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mrsfancyferrari · 1 month ago

Text

Want You

Summary: LN4 + "But I don't want them, I want you." 🥧🏈

Song: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You stand in the mirror, pacing back and forth as you fix your hair for the third time. Tonight is one of those nights where the universe feels electrically charged, a perfect blend of thrill and anxiety swirling in your gut.

Layla, your best friend, has just finished getting ready and is practically beaming with excitement beside you.

Her skin glows under the soft lights of your apartment, and her dress hugs her figure perfectly. You can’t help but feel slightly overshadowed by her beauty.

"Do I look okay?" you ask, biting your lip, your eyes darting from her to your reflection.

"Are you kidding? You look amazing!" Layla exclaims, twisting a lock of her hair, her eyes sparkling. "But you really need to get out there more. You’re gorgeous in your own right!”

You chuckle, brushing off her compliment with a wave of your hand. "Yeah, well, even if I am, who's going to notice when you're around? You’re the one who gets all the attention. "

"That's not true! But anyway, tonight we’re supposed to have fun, not talk about that,” she says, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “Now, remember the plan?”

You nod, though your heart feels heavier with those words. “Right. We’re meeting Lando and the guys at the club. I just hope he doesn’t think I’m some awkward third wheel. He’s popular.”

Layla rolls her eyes playfully. “You say that every time. You two are friends. Besides, I think he likes you more than you think.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond, your mind racing back to the day Lando had randomly entered your life during a charity event you were volunteering for.

He was charming, funny, and incredibly humble for someone so famous. But the thought of anything romantic blossoming between you seemed absurd, especially when Layla was practically the embodiment of what everyone desired.

At the club, the bass vibrates through the floor, and colorful lights dance around the crowd like fireflies in the night. It’s an atmosphere alive with energy, but you feel your heartbeat quicken at the thought of seeing Lando.

You spot him near the bar, a bright smile on his face as he talks to some friends. Dressed casually, Lando is effortlessly cool, like a magnetic pull that draws everyone’s attention.

“There he is!” Layla exclaims, her excitement infectious. You watch her eyes grow wide like a child spotting a shooting star.

“Go! Go talk to him!” you nudge her, unable to keep the urge to play matchmaker at bay.

“No way! I’m not going without my wingwoman,” she whispers urgently, grabbing your wrist.

With a resigned sigh, you stride forward, Layla trailing closely behind. The moment Lando sees you, his face lights up, and he waves enthusiastically.

The way his presence commands attention is almost intoxicating.

“Hey! You made it!” he greets, pulling you in for a quick hug. You can smell his cologne, fresh and invigorating. Suddenly, your shyness mellows into warmth, though a tiny inner voice reminds you that you’re about to play cupid.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your demeanor suddenly a mix of confidence and nervous fluttering. “Lando, this is my best friend Layla. You should hang out with her more—she’s awesome!”

Layla’s cheeks flush, and a playful smirk spreads across her face, but you can’t help but feel anxiety gnawing at you.

“Nice to meet you, Layla,” Lando says, his bright green eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope!” Layla giggles, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers as if she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands.

“Yes, definitely,” he chuckles lightly, shooting you a glance that feels a bit mischievous. “I always wanted to meet the friend who keeps you so grounded.”

You fight to keep your composure, trying to bury the layer of jealousy creeping in. “Well, tonight’s all about celebrating. We should hit the dance floor!”

Hours pass with drinks flowing and laughter echoing. You dance, reveling in the rhythm while keeping a watchful, almost possessive gaze on Layla and Lando. They banter, and you notice how easily they connect, the chemistry undeniable.

A part of you feels satisfied, hoping for the sparks to ignite. Yet, another part steals glances at the way Lando laughs—could he truly like her?

“Hey,” you hear a familiar voice call, pulling you from your thoughts. Lando approaches, his brow slightly furrowed. “I was looking for you. Want to join us?”

You swallow, glancing at Layla, who is leaning against her car, her smile bright. “Um, sure. Just one moment.”

He watches you, a look of concern crossing his face. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yeah but you know, Layla really lights up the floor.”

“She does,” he nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “But I think you’re just as fun. It’s nice having both of you here.”

“Nice being here with you.” The words spilled from your mouth before you could bite them back.

Before you nerves could take over, you added, “You know, if you’re interested, Layla would love to get coffee or something. She’s crushing on you.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Lando’s face, followed by an understanding nod. “Yeah, I picked up on that. But honestly?” He paused, searching for your eyes. “I think I’d prefer hanging out with you instead."

Your breath hitched, and you felt a giddy thrill dance in your chest. “Really? You mean that?”

“Definitely,” he said, leaning forward with a grin. “You’re fun to talk to, and we have a great vibe. I really like spending time with you.”

“Wow, I… I wasn’t expecting that,” you stammered, a mixture of confusion and excitement swirling inside you. “I mean, Layla is great and all, but—”

“Look,” he interrupted gently, his eyes softening. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I’d love to get to know you better. Just you. No Layla.”

The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting soft golden rays across the small living room where Lando and you sat. Your head ached, pounding in rhythm with your heartbeat, and the remnants of last night's festivities loomed over you like a heavy cloud.

Lando chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t anything too wild, don’t worry. Just that you really like spending time with me… and that you might like me in a different way.”

Your face burned even hotter, a mix of embarrassment and panic flooding your senses. “Oh my god! Lando, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to… I don’t remember any of that! It’s embarrassing.”

“Hey, don’t stress,” he said, a warm smile crossing his lips. “It’s not like you announced it to the whole party or anything. Just me, your trusted partner in crime. Besides, it's actually kind of sweet.”

His words were laced with a sincerity that calmed the storm brewing inside you, just a little. “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” Lando nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, how often do you get to hear someone’s true thoughts when they’re tipsy? It made my night a lot better.”

“Are you serious? I was a mess!” You tossed a pillow at him, your heart still racing from the earlier confession. “I can't believe I let that slip.”

“You were not a mess, you were just… liberated,” Lando smirked, leaning back on the couch and folding his arms behind his head. “And honestly, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. In fact, it kind of makes me happy.”

“Ugh, Lando, you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you replied, your voice wavering as you tried to muster a hint of displeasure.

“No, I’m not.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I mean, how often do you get to hear someone’s true thoughts when they’re tipsy?”

“Are you serious? I was a mess!” You tossed a pillow at him, your heart still racing from the earlier confession. “I can't believe I let that slip.”

“No you weren't.” His face lit up with a smile that was infectious. “First things first, though—let’s get you over that hangover.”

You chuckled softly, grateful for the shift in energy. “Right.”

“Exactly,” Lando said, standing up and moving to the kitchen. “How do you feel about greasy food? Because I believe that’s the primary cure for hangovers.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “Always a solid choice. I could go for some toast or maybe even pancakes.”

“I can whip up something interesting,” he called back, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice. “But it might not be traditional breakfast food. I’ve been experimenting a little.”

“Oh boy, this should be good,” you said, following him into the kitchen, the earlier tension still lingering, but now more like a hopeful promise than a cloud of uncertainty.

Lando looked back over his shoulder with that charming grin that made your heart race. “Just trust me. You’ll love it.”

As he rummaged through the cabinets, you felt a flutter of excitement amid the remnants of your embarrassment. Maybe today wasn’t just about curing a hangover. Maybe it was the start of something new—something sweet and just a little bit wild.

The kitchen filled with the aroma of sizzling ingredients, laughter, and casual banter, the gravitational pull of your connection drawing you closer.

And for the first time that morning, as the sunlight spilled in and the soft music played, you felt truly, undeniably alive. . . .

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the McLaren paddock as the roar of engines filled the air. You had arrived earlier than expected, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Lando had invited you specifically to watch him race, and you had decided to bring Layla with you, thinking it might make the day more enjoyable.

But now, as you watched the interactions unfold around you, you began to regret that decision.

“Look at them,” Layla said, nudging your arm and pointing toward the racing cars as they zipped around the track. “Isn’t it incredible? I still can’t believe we’re here!”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to suppress the tension knotting up your stomach.

Lando was on the other side of the paddock, surrounded by his team, engrossed in the pre-race hustle. He looked effortlessly cool in his race suit, flashing that signature smile that made your heart skip, and exchanging laughter with his crew.

You could see the admiration in Layla’s eyes, the way her gaze followed him, almost too fondly.

“Do you think he’ll win today?” Layla asked, her voice bright with enthusiasm. “I mean, he’s been so on form lately. This might be his season!”

“Yeah, I hope so,” you managed, but your heart sank a little at the way she spoke about him, as if Lando was already hers, as if you didn’t even exist in the context of their perfect relationship.

As the anticipation built, Lando finished up with his team and made his way over to you both. With a warm grin, he wrapped you in a tight hug, his comforting scent of fresh cedar and sunlight enveloping you.

“Hey, you made it!” he exclaimed, pulling back to look into your eyes. He waved cheerfully at Layla, who returned the gesture with a beaming smile.

With a playful tap on my shoulder, he kept his attention locked on you. “I bought your favorite snacks in case you get hungry. Just ask anyone in hospitality and they'll give them to you.”

“Oh, Lando, you didn’t have to,” you said, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“I knew you didn’t eat much,” he replied, with a hint of teasing in his tone. “Gotta keep you energized, right? What would the fans say if they saw you fainting in the stands?”

You chuckled, the lightheartedness of his comment managing to ease some of the tension in your chest. “I appreciate it, really. Thanks, Lando.”

“Of course!” He flashed that dazzling smile again, and your heart skipped yet again, wishing it wouldn’t betray you so. “Are you excited for the race?”

“Absolutely,” You said with a grin. “I can’t wait to see you speed past everyone. You’re going to crush it!”

Lando’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “I’ll do my best. And if all goes to plan, maybe we can celebrate afterward?”

“Definitely!” you replied a little too quickly. “That would be amazing!”

As Lando left to get ready for the race and you walked to the garage, Layla nudged you playfully. “Haven't you seen the way he looks at you?” she said, a teasing smirk on her face.

“How do he… look at me?” you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

“Like he's helplessly falling in love,” Layla teased, her tone light but with a touch of sincerity.

Your cheeks heated. “Oh, come on. He’s just friendly. You know how he is.”

“Friendly? Girl, he’s practically glowing when he sees you! It’s more than friendly.”

You didn't reply but her words were replayed in your head for most of the day. . . .

The roar of the engines and the excitement of the crowd filled the air as you settled into your seat, your heart racing along with the cars on the track.

You had been eagerly watching Lando drive with impressive precision, your admiration mixed with nerves as he expertly navigated the twists and turns of the circuit.

But as the laps dwindled down, your stomach began to rumble louder than the cars. You leaned over to Layla, who was just as engrossed in the race aside from the occasional glance in your direction.

“I'm going to grab some snacks Lando got for me. Want anything?” you asked, trying to mask your growing hunger with a light-hearted tone.

“No, I’m good! Can’t believe you have personal snacks from the Lando,” Layla teased, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you made your way to the hospitality room, the bright lights and lavish decor a stark contrast to the rawness of the track.

You felt a rush of nostalgia thinking about all the times Lando had surprised you with silly little gestures, like snacking during breaks or rescuing you from long queues at events.

As you entered, the atmosphere abruptly shifted. A tall, undeniably handsome man leaned casually against the bar, a cocky smile on his face that could light up the room.

He had perfectly styled hair and a confidence that was palpable. You instinctively felt your pulse quicken, but not in the way you were used to with Lando.

“Hey there,” he drawled, his voice smooth like velvet as he turned to face you. “What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing all alone?”

You blinked, taken aback. It was the first time someone had openly flirted with you in public, and the realization made your cheeks flush.

“Um, just grabbing some snacks,” you stammered, glancing back toward the snack table. “Not much to see here.”

He moved closer, leaning forward on the bar, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I’d hardly call you ‘not much to see.’ You definitely stand out from the crowd. What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s…” you hesitated, almost forgetting your own name for a moment. “It’s Y/N. And you are…?”

“Ethan,” he replied, extending a hand with an air of confidence. You hesitated but eventually shook his hand. “So Y/N, do you come to the races often?”

“More often than you’d think,” you answered, forcing a smile.

Your mind kept drifting back to Lando, his curly hair bouncing with every turn, his infectious laugh, his enthusiastic spirit. You couldn't help but mentally compare every detail of Ethan to Lando, a habit you couldn’t shake off.

“What do you think of the race so far?” Ethan asked, diverting your thoughts back to the present.

“Oh, it’s exhilarating! Lando’s doing really well,” you replied, your voice faltering slightly as you mentioned his name. “He’s a great driver.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Lando? The Lando?”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other for a bit. He’s… well, great,” you added sheepishly, not wanting to divulge too much about your friendship.

“Sounds like you’re a bit smitten,” Ethan teased, his eyes sparkling with playful banter.

You cut him a look, a blush creeping up your neck. “No! It’s not like that. We’re just friends!” The resolve in your voice felt weak against the wistfulness laced in your words.

Would Ethan ever understand the depth of what Lando meant to you?

The race continued, and Ethan shifted his attention from the track to you. “While I might not have curly hair or that… infectious laugh, I can still try to impress you,” he said with a smirk.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I can’t deny you’re charming, Ethan. But the thing about Lando—”

“Is that he’s Lando,” Ethan interrupted, his voice low as though the name itself held some power. “I get it. You’ve got this history that I can’t compete with.”

He looked down, running a hand through his hair. The gesture seemed so reminiscent of Lando, yet distinctly different.

You couldn’t shake off how much every flick of Ethan’s hair and every smile he flashed felt in stark contrast to Lando’s bouncy curls and radiant grin. He smiled, sure, but it felt like a shadow of something brighter.

Just then, a staff member waved at Ethan from the other side of the grandstand, beckoning him over for photographs. “I’ll be right back!” he said, throwing you one last flirtatious grin before he slipped away.

You decided to take the chance to get back to your seat, curious as to why the cheers around the paddock were getting louder.

“Did you get your snacks?” Layla asked, her eyes still glued to the screen where the race was unfolding.

“Yeah,” you replied absentmindedly, still feeling the flutter of excitement from Ethan's attention. As you focused on the race, your thoughts danced back to him intermittently.

The atmosphere was electric; Lando was still in the lead for qualifying, much to the delight of the crowd, and your heart raced not just from the race—but from the momentary thrill of flirtation.

“Come on, come on, Lando!” Layla shouted, her enthusiasm infectious. You mirrored her excitement, your eyes following the sleek McLaren as it whizzed around the track.

When Lando crossed the finish line, securing pole position, the roar from the team was deafening. Everyone in McLaren was ecstatic, their cheers echoing the adrenaline that surged through the air.

"Yes, Lando," you said, smiling as the cameras captured the jubilant scene.

With Lando’s triumph, you watched as the team swarmed to congratulate him. You couldn't help but chuckle at his signature grin, the way he seemed to glow with the thrill of victory.

But as you looked closer, you realized that despite the chaos around him, Lando’s gaze was searching the crowd.

“Do you think he’ll spot us?” Layla asked, her eyes narrowing, trying to catch a glimpse through the throng of people.

“I doubt it. I mean, look at him! He’s the star of the show right now,” you replied, attempting to downplay the hope that fluttered in your stomach.

Still, your thoughts were interrupted as Layla suddenly grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd.

“C'mon! We need to get a closer look!” she shouted over the noise. Your heart raced for a different reason now, excitement growing as you maneuvered through the ocean of fans, team members, and media.

You just managed to catch a glimpse of Lando standing on his car, fist raised triumphantly in the air. “Look at him! He’s on top of the world!” you exclaimed, your voice barely audible over the cheers.

“I know! He’s incredible!” Layla responded, beaming at Lando’s joyous display.

Amidst the clamor and celebrations, you decided to yell out, “Lando, over here!” hoping he might hear you.

To your surprise, he turned in your direction, a radiant smile breaking across his face. He scanned the crowd, and for a heartbeat, your eyes locked. His smile grew broader, and you felt warmth flood your cheeks.

Then, without a thought for the crowd around you, you made your way over to him. You squeezed through a chaotic throng of jubilant fans, the buzz of celebration swirling around you, until you reached the area near the barriers.

There he was, laughing and exchanging high-fives with the team. You couldn't help but grin as you approached.

“Lando!” you shouted over the noise, arms open wide.

He spotted you immediately, and a look of pure joy washed over his face. With almost immediate instinct, he lunged toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

The strength of his excitement was palpable, and you squeezed him back, your heart racing.

He chuckled as he lifted you slightly off the ground. “I did it! I can't believe it!” he cried, setting you back down gently. “Did you see that last lap?”

“Are you kidding? It was amazing! You were so fast!” you exclaimed, your voice rising above the cacophony.

As he pulled back, he looked down at you with his bright eyes sparkling in the fading light. “I couldn’t have done it without all your support. You were here every step of the way.”

“You’ve worked so hard, Lando. You deserve this,” you said, your gaze drifting for a moment as you felt the warmth of his presence envelop you.

But then, staring at him with the backdrop of the ecstatic crowd, your heart felt odd. Being so close to him, you suddenly found yourself stammering. “I—uh, I mean… you really did great.”

Lando tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You alright?” He took a small step closer, his arm still around your waist, making you acutely aware of the physical closeness between you, which felt both comfortable and electric.

“Uh, yeah, totally fine,” you replied quickly, but your voice was barely above a whisper. You caught a brief glimpse of Lando's gaze flitting to your lips, and it sent a jolt of connection rushing through you.

“I just… I mean…” You struggled to finish your thought, the reality of your best friend stepping into the limelight making you feel both thrilled and ridiculously nervous.

“Just what?” he teased gently, his smile unwavering but those eyes—oh, those eyes were searching, digging deeper.

“Just… I didn’t think you’d get pole position! I mean, I thought maybe, like, third or fourth?” You laughed nervously, but his gaze didn’t waver.

“Hey, you should always believe in me!” Lando said, but there was a soft intensity behind his words that made your heart race all the more. “If I can get here today, then you have to promise you’ll always believe in me, no matter what.”

You paused, looking earnestly into his bright eyes, biting your lip. “I promise. But you’ve gotta promise me too; no matter how famous you get or how many trophies you win, you won’t forget about me, okay?”

“Never,” he said softly, but the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. He lowered his voice, his teasing demeanor fading slightly.

“You’ve been my constant through all of this, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Lando’s words lingered palpably in the air between you. You felt like the entire world had faded away, the crowd’s roars dimming into background noise. “I just… I could never replace what we have.”

“Exactly,” he said, moving a fraction closer, eliciting butterflies to flutter chaotic within your stomach. “Remember that time you thought I’d mess up in Monaco, and then I didn’t? I was convinced I could do it because you believed in me.”

You laughed, flushing at the memory. “Yeah, and you laughed at me for just being realistic.”

“Realistic is boring! You should know that by now. In racing, and in life, you gotta dream big,” he said, voice lightening as humor returned to the moment.

Just as you were about to respond, Zac approached. “Hey! Lando! Congrats, mate!”

He clapped Lando on the back, breaking the synergy you had created. “That was an incredible race! You crushed it!”

Lando’s hand left your waist as he turned to engage with Zac, his infectious excitement pulling him into the conversation. “Thanks, man! I can’t believe it! I was so nervous the entire time!”

You stepped back slightly, allowing the two of them to revel in the adrenaline of the moment. Lando beamed, his eyes sparkling as he spoke animatedly with Zac about the race strategy.

You watched as he made his way to get weighed and interviewed, your heart fluttering with a mix of pride and something else you weren’t quite ready to admit.

“Really, though, I don’t understand why you’re still on the fence about it,” Layla said, stepping beside you as you discreetly observed Lando.

Her voice was laced with curiosity as she nudged your shoulder. “He’s been so into you these past few weeks. Did you see how he looked at you when he saw you?”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your gaze still fixed on Lando. “Yeah, well, I saw that. But just because he looks at me a certain way doesn’t mean he likes me. He’s excited about the race, Layla. I’m just… there.”

“You’re not just ‘there.’ You’re practically glowing in his vicinity. It’s like he only sees you when he talks!” Layla insisted, her tone shifting to teasing. “You could light up an entire stadium with the way he smiles at you.”

“Okay, maybe he enjoys spending time with me,” you conceded, your cheeks warming at the thought. “But that doesn't exactly scream ‘I like you.’”

“Maybe not,” she replied, tilting her head as she watched Lando waving at fans and signing autographs, “but you’ve got to admit, there’s something more. I mean, look at him! The energy is off the charts!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the conversation light. “You know how he is. He’s a charismatic guy. He’s like that with everyone.”

“Maybe. But wouldn’t it be amazing if he was like that with just you?” Layla’s voice softened, and she nudged you again. “Take the leap! Ask him how he feels—it doesn’t have to be a grand declaration.”

The sun was beginning to set over the racing circuit, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky as Lando settled himself into a high-backed chair in the paddock lounge.

It had been a day filled with adrenaline, the thrill of achieving pole position lighting up his thoughts.

The victory celebrations had been electrifying, but they were quickly overshadowed by a single purpose that surged through him like fuel to an engine—he wanted to see you again.

After the debrief, he had scanned the crowd, searching for you, his excitement building with each passing second. He had been talking about trying a new restaurant in town, and he couldn’t wait to explore it with you.

But the moment he stepped into the bustling lounge, he spotted you, and his heart sank just a little.

You were laughing.

Not just a polite chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh that lit up your face. You were engaged in conversation with Ethan Smith, the American actor who had been brought in as a special guest to support the race.

Lando could see the chemistry between you two—it was glaringly evident in the way Ethan leaned in slightly, his playful jokes coaxing out laughter and smiles that made your eyes sparkle.

“Hey, you look like you’re going to kill Ethan,” Layla, your best friend, teased as she sidled up to Lando, noticing the tense atmosphere that had suddenly enveloped him.

“Who?” Lando asked, tearing his gaze from you for just a moment.

“Ethan Smith? One of the most famous actors in the US? You don’t know him?” Layla's voice was filled with disbelief.

“Nope, and I don’t like him either,” Lando grumbled, eyes narrowing as he watched Ethan wink at you.

You giggled, and Lando felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest. He stood up properly, unable to resist the pull any longer.

As he stormed over, Layla rolled her eyes, giggling softly in amusement. “Good luck, hero.”

Lando approached, trying to keep his expression neutral even while he could feel a competitive spark igniting within him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” he said, forcing a smile as he sidled up next to you, “but I thought we were going to check out that new place together.”

You turned to him, your smile blossoming even wider. “Lando! You were amazing out there today! I still can’t believe you got pole position!”

“Thanks! It was a good day, but I’ve got even better plans,” he added, shooting Ethan a pointed look. “I’m taking you out for dinner remember.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered and amused by Lando's sudden intrusion. “Oh, is that so? Looks like you’ve got some competition, Norris.”

Lando’s jaw twitched slightly. “I don’t see any competition, honestly. You’re just a—”

“Just a what?” Ethan interrupted with a smirk, leaning back casually. “Just a huge star who happens to be having a lovely conversation with someone he finds incredibly charming?”

You giggled again, a sound that made Lando’s irritation simmer down just a fraction. “You guys, come on. I’m just trying to enjoy the evening here.”

“Exactly,” said Ethan, flashing you a disarming smile. “And you deserve it! Besides, I was just giving her some advice on how to handle the media.”

“Media?” Lando questioned, crossing his arms. “I didn’t realize you were running a media workshop.”

Ethan shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, just sharing the wisdom I’ve gained. It can be tough, huh? Like staying out of the limelight while everyone’s watching you, waiting for you to slip up.” He shot a harmless smile, but Lando felt the jabs in his stomach.

You frowned, sensing the tension. “You guys, let’s not make this into a competition. Lando, you were the one who wanted to go out tonight.”

Lando looked at you, and then back at Ethan. “Right,” he said, softening his tone as he fixed his eyes solely on you. “I just wanted to celebrate with you a little, that’s all.”

Ethan grinned, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Looks like you’ve claimed your prize, my friend. I was just enjoying the company. I’ll step back.”

Lando glanced at Ethan with a nod, appreciating the concession, but still feeling a little victorious as he turned back to you. “So, are you ready to go eat? That new place is supposed to be amazing.”

You looked back to Ethan, and then nodded, a sweet smile curling on your lips. “Yeah, I’m ready. Sorry for taking up your time, Ethan.”

Ethan waved it off with a playful wink. “No problem! Have fun out there, you two. Just remember, she was laughing with me first!”

As you and Lando began to walk away, he turned back to you with a raised eyebrow. “You know, just for the record, I think he was flirting with you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh please, he’s just a friendly guy! Besides, I already have someone I’m interested in.”

“Good,” Lando muttered, feeling a rush of relief and warmth flooding his chest. “Just making sure.”

He smiled down at you, his heart feeling a little lighter now. “Let’s go enjoy our dinner and make some headlines of our own, huh?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, linking your arm through his as you both made your way out, leaving the tension behind you.

Lando couldn’t help but smile at the thought of spending the evening with you, feeling that maybe the only competition that truly mattered was the one he could embrace.

The evening air was cooler than expected, igniting a small thrill of anticipation as you stepped out of the car. You looked up at the restaurant’s glowing sign, your heart fluttering a little.

This place was newly opened, a fusion of modern and vintage charm, and you were eager to see if it lived up to its reputation.

As you adjusted your jacket, you glanced at Lando, who was standing beside you with an easy grin, his eyes sparkling like the city lights around you. Ever since he came into your life, each moment felt a little more vibrant, a little more alive.

“Have you seen the menu?” you asked, looking up at him, excitement bubbling in your voice.

He nodded, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I did, and I can tell you right now, I’m going for that pumpkin risotto. It sounds incredible.”

You laughed. “Pumpkin risotto? It seems a bit heavy for someone who just came off a race, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, I need my carbs!” he retorted playfully, nudging your shoulder with his. “Especially after that race last week. I burned more calories than I could count, you know.”

“Fine, but I’m holding you to it. If you fall asleep in the middle of dinner, we might have a problem,” you teased back, stepping inside the restaurant.

The atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace—soft lighting, a hint of herbs wafting from the kitchen, and laughter echoing from nearby tables. You felt a buzz of excitement in your veins as you and Lando were led to a cozy corner table.

“So, what are you going to have?” he asked, picking up the menu and scanning it with genuine interest.

You shrugged, pretending to gauge the choices with utmost seriousness. “I think I’ll try the seafood linguine. It’s been ages since I’ve had good pasta.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You know, I love when you get excited about food. It’s one of those little things that makes you… well, you.”

A warm blush crept onto your cheeks. “I didn’t realize you were so observant, Mr. Norris.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I notice the important things. Like how you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking, or how your eyes light up when you talk about your favorite books.”

“Okay, now you’re just getting mushy.” Your voice barely hid your embarrassment, but the fluttering in your chest was unmistakable.

You loved how easily he could make you smile.

Their server arrived, and you both ordered. As you waited, the conversation flowed easily, moving from playful banter about Lando’s racing experiences to sharing your dream travel destinations.

“I really want to visit Japan,” you said, your eyes dancing with the thought. “The culture, the food, the cherry blossoms… it seems magical.”

Lando leaned back, an amused smile plastered on his face. “You’re a romantic at heart, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, biting your lip. “What about you? Where would you go if you had the chance?”

He paused, his expression thoughtful. “Probably somewhere quiet. Racing is intense, so I think I’d like a peaceful beach. Just to sit, reflect, and maybe learn to surf.”

“Surfing, huh?” You quirked an eyebrow. “You? I can already picture you wiping out spectacularly.”

“Oh, I’d definitely faceplant! But I’d get back up,” he said, his laughter infectious. “Just like on the track. That’s what makes it all fun, right?”

Before you could respond, your food arrived, and the divine aroma filled the air. You both dove into the dishes eagerly, enjoying the burst of flavors that danced on your tongues.

“This is amazing!” you exclaimed, savoring a mouthful of your linguine. “You have to try this.”

Lando took a bite of your pasta and nodded approvingly. “Wow, that’s really good! But I’ll stick to my risotto for now.”

As dinner continued, the conversation turned more personal. Lando shared stories of his childhood, his dreams, and the pressures of being in the limelight, while you opened up about your own aspirations and the challenges you faced.

“Sometimes, it’s overwhelming,” he confessed, a hint of vulnerability lacing his words. “I mean, I love racing, but it can feel like everyone’s expectations are just weighing down on you.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand on his. “But you’re doing something incredible, Lando. You’re following your passion and inspiring people along the way. Just don’t lose sight of what matters.”

His gaze locked onto yours, lips curving into a smile that reached his eyes. “You always know what to say to make me feel better. I’m lucky to have you around.”

In that moment, you understood something deeper was blossoming between you—a connection that transcended the thrill of racing. It was a shared dream, a mutual understanding, and an undeniable chemistry that lit up the evening.

As the night wore on and the plates were cleared, you felt a mix of contentment and longing. The restaurant buzzed with laughter and conversations, but in your little corner, it was just you and Lando, caught in your own world.

“Next time, we should pick somewhere even more adventurous,” he suggested, a playful gleam in his eyes.

You leaned back, thinking of the possibilities. “That sounds perfect. Let’s make it a tradition.”

Lando grinned, and in that moment, you knew this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You just hope that your feelings won't get in the way. . . .

Layla’s coughs echoed through the empty hall as she wrapped herself tighter in a soft blanket on the couch, trying to drown out the sound of the outside world.

It felt bitterly unfair that her body had rebelled against her just when she’d been looking forward to watching the race with you.

“Hey, Layla,” you called from the kitchen, where you were prepping a few snacks. “I’m heading out now. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

She turned her head slightly, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed. “No, really, you should go. I’d just be a downer. Besides, I’d hate to get Lando sick. He’s got that race this weekend!”

“True, but…” you hesitated, feeling the weight of the unspoken words. “I mean, it would have been nice if we could all hang out together. I was kind of hoping you'd be there.”

Layla's smile was faint but brightened her pallid complexion. “I think you’re hoping for more than just ‘hanging out.’ You like him, don’t you?”

You sighed. “Maybe? I mean, after last night’s dinner… I just can’t tell if it was all in my head.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, quickly followed by a cough. “You actually thought he was, what? Just being polite? You guys were practically flirting all night.”

“Flirting? Really?” You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I thought he was just being friendly. Charming, even. He’s always like that.”

“Yeah, but that look he gave you? Come on! It was like, 'how do I impress you?’ and 'you’re amazing’ wrapped in one.” She coughed again, and you felt guilt worming its way into your chest.

“Maybe he was just being a nice guy. Or he was bored...” you trailed off, unsure.

“Or maybe he’s into you, and you just don’t want to see it,” she countered, her voice softening. “You should go talk to him. Tonight could be your chance!”

You ran a hand through your hair, pondering Layla's words. What if? What if that spark you felt between you was mutual?

You took a deep breath as you nodded. “Okay. I’m going. Just to check in on him.”

“Good! Now go knock his socks off!” Layla replied, her enthusiasm cutting through her congestion. As you waved goodbye, a quiet mix of excitement and apprehension simmered in your stomach.

You arrived at the paddock, the unmistakable hum of excitement buzzing in the air. The energy of fans waving flags and donning their favorite team colors could be felt all around; it was palpable and infectious.

You took a moment to soak it all in, engaging with the fans milling about, sharing smiles and snapshots that captured the thrill of race day.

But amidst the joviality, you couldn't shake off the knot in your stomach. Lando had been acting differently lately, receiving an outpouring of negative comments and disproportionate criticism on social media.

It made your heart ache to see someone so talented being torn down and misunderstood, especially when he had always been so kind and considerate.

Today was supposed to be about racing, but you had a growing worry that Lando might not be able to shake off the weight that was pressing down on him.

Once you greeted the last group of fans, you made your way through the paddock with purpose. The noise faded slightly as you approached Lando's garage—his sanctuary, where he would armor up for the battles on the track.

The energy there was different; it was practically electric, the team buzzing around, making final adjustments to the car and going over the last-minute strategies.

Still, your focus was solely on Lando.

You searched for him in every nook and cranny, peeking into the bustling pit area and checking around the hospitality suites. But a feeling of dread began to take root when you couldn’t find him.

“Maybe he’s in his driver’s room,” you murmured to yourself, trying to push down the worry that lingered like a shadow.

At the door, you hesitated, your heart racing. You knocked once, then twice, listening for the sound of his voice.

When no response came, you slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open, half-expecting him to be absorbed in some last-minute race preparation. Instead, the scene that greeted you was far from it.

Lando was curled up on the small, worn sofa, hands wrapped around his knees. He jumped slightly at the sight of you, his eyes wide, a mix of surprise and vulnerability.

“Oh Y/N, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, forcing on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You frowned at the sight of him, the dim light casting shadows across his face, revealing red-rimmed eyes. Your heart sank. “Lando… what’s wrong?”

You lowered yourself onto the sofa next to him, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, but it did little to ease your concern.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he replied too quickly, the practiced lightness in his voice clashing with the heaviness in the room.

You could see the slight tremor in his hands, and your worry deepened. You reached out, tentatively placing a hand on his knee.

“You’re not fine,” you said softly, searching his face for the usual spark you loved. “I can see it. Talk to me?”

He looked away, glancing out the window at the racetrack where the cars were roaring around the circuit.

You followed his gaze but quickly turned back to him, determined to break through the wall he had put up. “Does it have to do with the race? Is it the pressure?”

Lando shook his head, something between sad and grateful passing over his features. “It’s not that. Just… a lot on my mind, you know?” His words were heavy, like anchors sinking in deep water.

“That’s okay,” you said, shifting closer to him. “I’m here. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor behind it. “You’re always here, Y/N. That’s what I like about you. You make it easier.”

“Then let me help you,” you insisted gently, nudging him with your elbow while you tried to coax out a more genuine response.

“Can I get a hug?” you asked, knowing that physical closeness might be the best way to pull Lando out of the shell he’d crawled into.

He hesitated, eyes darting around the room like a deer caught in headlights. Then, hesitantly, he leaned into you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

The warmth of his body was comforting, but as he buried his face against the curve of your neck, you felt the tell-tale signs of him holding back. You hugged him tighter, hoping he could feel the strength of your support.

“Let it out,” you whispered, holding him as he exhaled deeply, searching for words that seemed stuck in his throat. “Please.”

You rubbed his back in soothing circles, the silent rhythm cocooning you both in a bubble of softness. You didn't care if you were basically sitting on his lap; all you cared about was Lando.

“It's just... a lot,” he murmured finally, his voice muffled against you. “The media, the fans—they're relentless. I don’t think I can do it today.”

“Shhh…” you soothed, leaning back slightly to bring his gaze toward you. His big, dark eyes looked lost, a storm brewing behind them. “You’re stronger than they think. You love racing, remember? You belong out there.”

He looked away, swallowing hard. You could see the emotions swirling within him, battling between fear and desire, doubt and determination. “But what if I mess up again? What if…”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently. “What if you do great? You can’t let fear write your story for you. You have to give yourself a chance.”

His fingers found your waist as he held you closer, the intensity in his grip conveying everything words could not. “I just don’t want to let anyone down,” he confessed finally, his breath warm against your ear.

“You won’t,” you assured him, your heart racing with the intimacy of the moment. “Not with me by your side. You have me, Lando; I believe in you.”

With every squeezed breath, the hug felt too tight, arms closing around you, squeezing you, pressing together, inch by inch. You could feel his hesitance melting into something else, something deeper, something that felt like your very own electricity.

Lando was the unpredictable force that set your heart aflame. Those arms wrapped tightly around you felt intoxicating, like a drug that sent your pulse racing when the rest of the world faded away.

His phone buzzed, jolting you both back to the reality of the upcoming race.

“It’s Oscar,” he muttered, annoyance tugging at his features. “I don’t want to go; I can’t face the pit or the cameras.”

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze fully. “Well, I can’t do this for you, but I can be right there with you. You need to let them see how you feel. It’s okay to show vulnerability, Lando.”

He took a deep breath, and you could see the gears in his mind turning. “What if it’s not enough?” he muttered, but the fire in his voice was finally wavering.

“Enough for who?” you pressed. “You don’t have to perform for them. Just do your race, and I’ll be right there cheering for you.”

“Really?” He looked at you, the hope flickering in his gaze almost enough to make you lean in and kiss him.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You grinned, feeling the air shift between you, filled with the promise of something more.

Suddenly, Oscar’s voice boomed from the other side of the door, urgent and loud. “Lando, it’s time for the race!”

Lando groaned, clearly annoyed at being forced back into reality. “I guess I can’t hide in here forever, huh?”

“Nope. Now come on, let’s get you out there and show them what you’re made of.” You smiled, standing abruptly and holding out your hand to him.

He hesitated for a heartbeat before taking it, and you felt that warm pull between you. The brief moment of intimacy melded into something more solid as he clasped your fingers. He rose to his feet, tilting his head slightly to find your gaze once again.

“Thanks,” he said softly, his voice clear and stronger now. “For everything. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably get a lot more nervous,” you teased lightly, nudging him playfully. “But seriously, let’s go. You’ve got a race to win.”

As Lando Norris crossed the finish line for the fourth time that season, the entire track erupted in a symphony of cheers and celebrations.

You could barely contain your excitement, adrenaline surging through you as you pulled off your headphones, the sounds of the race still echoing in your mind.

All that mattered was Lando—your brilliant, talented Lando.

You joined the staff, a vibrant mix of engineers, mechanics, and strategists, who were all equally charged up. The atmosphere was electric, the air thick with the scent of burnt rubber and victory champagne.

You barely noticed the chaos unfolding around you as everyone rallied around the pit area. The crew, those unwavering supporters who had helped you get closer to Lando before, ushered you closer, their enthusiasm infectious.

“Come on! Right this way!” one of the crew members shouted over the noise, grabbing your hand and leading you through the throng.

You felt your heart race as the crowd’s energy swirled around you, anticipation making you giddy.

“Lando! Lando! Over here!” you shouted, waving your arms above your head like a lunatic.

A couple of crew members pointed in your direction, assisting the chaotic dance of the crowd.

And then it happened. His eyes met yours—green and bright like emeralds sparkling in sunlight. Time seemed to slow as he brightened at the sight, a genuine smile breaking across his face.

Without hesitation, he tore away from the crowd, sprinting toward you. The world blurred around you, the cheers fading until nothing mattered but the two of you.

When he reached you, it was like everything else faded away. He enveloped you in the biggest hug, his head tucked tightly against your neck.

Warmth washed over you, and you couldn’t help but laugh with pure joy.

“You did it! I knew you could!” you shouted, the excitement lacing your words as your arms wrapped around his neck.

His grip tightened as he pulled back to look into your eyes, the sexual tension thick between you. Lando's gaze lingered on your lips momentarily, and something about the way he held his gaze left your heart racing.

“I couldn’t have done it without you cheering me on,” he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” you teased playfully. “You’ve got the talent, but I like to think I add a bit of magic.”

Lando chuckled, a sound like music that echoed around you, making your heart flutter. “Well, keep that magic close then, okay?”

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, just a breath away from your lips. Your breath hitched as the world fell away again, your cheeks flushed with warmth and perhaps a bit more than embarrassment.

“I—I should let you go celebrate with everyone,” you said, almost feeling shy as you took a step back, the rest of the team rallying around him with congratulations.

“Hey,” he said softly, his gaze never wavering as he reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “You’re coming with me, right? We have to celebrate together after!”

You blinked, surprised. “Really? Don't you want to celebrate with only your team?”

“I want to celebrate with you too!” He smiled, an infectious grin that made your heart skip a beat. “We’ll carve out our own little celebration. Just us after.”

Your heart soared. You nodded eagerly. “Okay!”

After the podium celebrations ended, the crowd dispersed, and the atmosphere filled with the crackling excitement of victory turned to an afterglow.

Lando Norris, with his signature grin and a trophy held high, had basked in the limelight, soaking up the roaring applause of the fans.

But that was only a moment for him; now, he was dragged away to the media center, leaving you standing at the edge of the pit lane, heart fluttering with the kiss he had planted on your cheek moments before.

You leaned against the pit wall, watching as he disappeared behind a barrage of cameras and reporters.

The warmth of his fleeting affection lingered on your skin, and a smile crept across your face despite the noise around you.

“Thinking about him, I see,” a voice interrupted your thoughts. You jumped slightly, caught off guard as you turned to see Ethan approaching.

He wore a knowing smirk, one that made your stomach twist of embarrassment.

“Oh, hi Ethan, what are you talking about?” You feigned nonchalance, crossing your arms.

“Lando, I’m talking about Lando,” Ethan replied, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Look, it’s clear you’ve got this enormous crush on him, but let’s not kid ourselves. He doesn’t like you like that. He’s just being friendly.”

Your heartbeat quickened for a different reason now—a mix of frustration and hurt. “What do you mean he doesn’t like me? He just won a race, and he kissed me, it was sweet.” You tried to sound more confident than you felt.

“Sweet?” Ethan scoffed. “That was just a celebratory peck. You know how he is with his fans. He flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean he has a thing for you.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing back against his doubt. “But it felt different. The way he looked at me before he left… Ethan, we’ve talked, we’ve laughed.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Look, you’re a great person, and I get that you want to believe he’s into you. But do you really think he’s capable of liking someone with all of this fame and pressure around him? He’s got a busy life, and girlfriends are just more trouble in that world.”

The frustration bubbled in your chest. “You sound like my mom,” you shot back, unable to hide the sharpness in your tone. “You don’t even know him like I do.”

“Fair enough,” Ethan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But you’ve got to admit, you’re setting yourself up for a huge disappointment here. Just... don’t get your hopes too high. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

His exasperation was genuine, but it only deepened your resolve. “And I wouldn’t want to live my life scared to try because of what ‘might’ happen.”

Ethan sighed. “Okay, I’m not trying to ruin your fantasy. I just want you to be realistic.”

“Realistic or pessimistic?” you countered.

He laughed softly, the tension in the air easing just a bit. “Alright, let’s call it realistic, then.”

“Lando doesn’t like you that way,” Ethan had said, concern etched on his features.

Those words replayed in your head like a broken record, setting a tight knot in your stomach every time you thought of the charming driver.

Just as you attempted to shake off the lingering doubt, a staff member materialized out of thin air, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Lando wants to see you now.”

“Thanks!” you called out, excusing yourself from Ethan’s company.

You felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety as you navigated through the hubbub of the garage, pushing aside doubts that had lingered since your morning conversation with Ethan.

Finally standing before Lando’s driver’s room, you raised your hand and knocked gently. “Come in,” his voice called out, warm and inviting.

You opened the door to find Lando leaning against the wall, a genuine smile lighting his face, so different from the frown of earlier that day. “Hi, champ!” you greeted him, a spark of joy igniting within you.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, standing upright as he approached you. “I’m really glad you’re here.” His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, and you could feel an electric tension crackling in the air between you.

You both settled into a rhythm of lighthearted conversation, laughing and reminiscing about the week’s events, but underneath every playful jab and shared joke, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the chemistry that simmered between you.

Lando’s gaze felt heavy on you, filled with unexpressed words that lingered just beyond reach.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension as you stare into Lando's eyes, a mix of confusion and yearning coursing through every nerve in your body.

You can feel the warmth of his presence enveloping you, a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach as you try to decipher the myriad emotions swirling between you.

“So,” Lando began, his voice almost a whisper, eyes glistening with something serious, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

His voice quivers with uncertainty, the weight of his unexpressed feelings hanging heavily in the atmosphere, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your mind raced back to Ethan’s words: “Lando doesn’t like you, Y/N. He’s just playing around.” You shook your head slightly. You wouldn’t let yourself believe that.

You couldn’t allow the confusion between friendship and something more to blur in your mind; it was too painful.

He said, his tone firm yet tender. “I like you, Y/N.”

“You don’t, you can’t,” you protest meekly, recalling the stinging words Ethan had casually tossed your way, words that left a lingering ache in your chest.

The notion that Lando might not harbor genuine feelings for you feels like a betrayal, an unwelcome specter haunting the edges of this beautiful moment.

“Y/N—” His voice was earnest, but you shook your head, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay.

“Please don’t joke about that. If you don’t like me—if you’re just messing around—then don’t joke about it.” Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the bubble of hope forming in your chest.

“Why do you think I’m saying this?” he asked, his voice low and laced with emotion. “Why would I bother if I didn’t mean it? This isn’t just some casual fling for me. I care about you, and it’s driving me insane keeping it all bottled up!”

You took a step back, your back hitting the closed door. “Lando, please, you can’t say that!” Tears began to stream down your cheeks unbidden.

“Why not?” he challenged softly, moving closer again, his gaze intense. “Why can’t I? Are you really going to deny what’s been between us? You feel it too right?”

The truth in his words shattered your defenses. “Lando, I—” Your voice broke, and the words tumbled out, heavier than you imagined.

“I’ve never been someone’s first choice before. It’s hard to believe that you actually want me.”

“Then believe me,” he urged, his hand gently cupping your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

Lando’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he whispered, “You deserve to hear it, and I mean every word.”

You melted into him, your head resting against his chest while he held you tightly—firmly yet gently, a safe haven amidst your unraveling emotions.

He didn’t flinch as the tears soaked his shirt.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, sniffling against his shoulder. “I don’t want to lose this.”

“You won’t lose me. Not ever,” he promised, pulling back slightly so he could look into your eyes. “Just give us a chance. I won’t hurt you.”

After a long while, you managed to calm down, your heart still racing but your breaths a little steadier. Lando pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes; the concern etched on his face warmed you.

“Can I kiss you?” Lando asked, his voice laced with just a hint of uncertainty, as if he feared this moment would evaporate into thin air.

Time seemed to stand still as you considered his question. You could feel the heat radiating between you, a magnetic pull that drew you closer.

This was the moment you had both been dancing around, the very reason for the tension that crackled in the air.

You felt a flutter in your stomach at the question, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. “Yes,” you finally breathed out, the single word filled with yearning.

His eyes sparkled, and he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted. But you didn’t; if anything, your heart raced as he brushed his lips against yours, soft and hesitant at first.

His lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes of the feelings you both had kept hidden for too long. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in a warm embrace, filled with the promise of love and acceptance.

As the kiss deepened, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. It was as if everything you had fought against—the doubt, the fear—melted away, replaced with the certainty of Lando’s affection.

You knew, right then and there, that you had finally found someone who would stay, who truly wanted you for who you were.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, your hearts still racing from the intensity of it all. “I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you murmured.

“Don’t be,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I finally got to you.”

And in that moment, surrounded by a haze of newfound love and vulnerability, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful.

Something that you both deserved. . . . .

572 notes · View notes

l0vergirlwrites · 2 months ago

Text

always, forever ; jj maybank

synopsis: after the events in morocco, you can’t help but think about how you almost lost the love of your life.

warnings: general angst themes, mentions of blood & death & weapons, established relationship with jj, mentions of season 4 episode 10

note: obx season 4 actually didn’t end the way it did btw!! this is how it should’ve ended!!

the warm night air at poguelandia was filled with laughs, cheers, & various conversations between the pogues as the radio blasted in the background. it was a pogue style celebration for getting the crown, for fighting tooth & nail, & for being a team.

while the rest of the pogues were on the upper level by the hammocks, feet pounding against the wood with each jump or dance move, you had situated yourself on the main level’s porch, your eyes trained on how the current in the marsh moved, the way the willows bent to the wind, and the fireflies floating through the atmosphere.

you should’ve felt more happy, bursting with joy with each beer you nursed, dancing by jj’s side like there was no tomorrow. but part of you just couldn’t shake the near death encounter you both experienced.

*~*~**~~*~**~*~**~*

the sand was everywhere, whipping at your bodies quickly as you ran through narrow pathways. jj’s hand was tightly holding yours as you led the two of you, his other securing the blue gemmed crown to his waist. gunshots & yelling men could be heard in the background, making you run faster out of fear.

“turn right up ahead!” jj yelled through his bandana covered mouth, squeezing your hand as a signal.

you turned, coming face to face with a wooden door which seemed promising. one minute, you were opening the door. the next, you were in the arms of a dangerous man.

groff had a knife to your neck, pressing hard into your skin as a warning of what he was really capable of. you struggled to breathe in his hold, chest rising up & down frantically as you stared at jj.

the blonde moved slowly towards you, negotiating a trade off between him & the man who’s supposedly his real father. in a swift motion, the crown was in groff’s possession & you were safe in jj’s embrace.

you remember his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, his broken voice assuring you that you were okay when your fingers dug into the clothing on his back.

however, this moment was short lasting because jj let you go so he could face groff one last time.

once you saw groff’s blade twitch in his hand, you pulled jj back as groff moved forward. his knife luckily didn’t go deep into jj’s side, & you had kicked it out of groff’s grip. soon enough, groff was kicked into a ditch below & jj had clutched his side.

the cut was easily remedied by your caring hands, ripping off some of your clothes to press into his side. you were crying by this point, being comforted by jj’s voice & hands as he slid down against the wall. your hands pressed into the wound to keep pressure on the slow bleeding, trying to remind yourself that it was minor & it could’ve been worse.

it could’ve been way worse.

**~*~*~***~*~~**~*~~**~*~*

“was wondering where you went, baby”

you blinked hard, running a hand over your face before turning to the blonde. you smiled at him as he sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his embrace.

“i didn’t go far” you mumbled as you pressed a kiss into the skin on his shoulder, lips touching an old scar of his while you squeezed his knee.

jj couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your hand on his knee wearing the ring he stole for you on your ring finger. “knew it’d be the perfect fit” his thumb pad ran over the silver ring, turning his head to look into your eyes.

you didn’t say anything else, just needing to kiss him because words were too difficult. “i really love you” you breathed out against his lips, unable to hide your smile when he kissed you harder at your omission, his hand on your cheek holding you in place.

jj repeated those words back to you as he pulled away, his thumb running across your bottom lip in thought. he could tell the events from morocco were weighing down on you, he could see it in the way you looked at him.

you were scared that he might vanish somehow after coming so close to it. the thought of it weighed down on him too.

“i’m not going anywhere, you know that right?” he spoke softer now, eyes trained on yours despite his hand pulling one of your free ones to his heart.

with your palm pressed against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat beneath his skin. it made you tear up involuntarily. “i know,” you nodded, clutching the material of his shirt. “i just… m-my mind won’t let me forget it”.

your eyes drifted to his left side, where you could see some of the medical bandaging you had put on earlier peeking out from under his shirt. his cut was healing, he was okay—but you knew it was gonna leave a permanent scar.

jj nodded understandably. he himself had his own internal battles with what happened, the small injury he had sustained.

“if it weren’t for your quick thinking, i—“ he stopped himself from saying it. “you saved me, baby” jj smiled, wiping the stray tear that fell onto your cheek without a second thought.

“well, you saved me first—“ he shut you up with a kiss, brushing his nose against yours.

“we’re always gonna save each other. i know that” you whispered against him when he pressed his forehead into yours, his arm around your shoulders securing you to him—to remind you that nothing will come between you two.

“always” jj agreed, a sappy laugh escaping his chest when you hugged him, your face seeking comfort in the crook of his neck.

he melted into your touch, breathing in the scent of your perfume like a vice as he let out a few tears of his own.

“it’s us against the world for life. always, forever” & you couldn’t agree more.

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

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Hiiiii could you do a fic where reader is pregnant for the first time? I need more soft!young president coriolanus so so bad

Soft as Snow || Young President!Coriolanus snow x reader

A/n: thank you for this request anon!! I need more soft coryo too 🥹

Warnings: fem!reader, mention of death

Wc: 860

Divider by @firefly-graphics

In the opulent sun room of the presidential mansion that you call your home, you sat in a plush chair with a bowl of fresh lychee perched carefully on your pregnant belly. The brightly lit room, adorned with decadent furnishings, seemed to reflect the weight of the world you carried not only as the First Lady but also as a soon-to-be-mother.

The door cracked open and Coriolanus entered with an air of authority that seemed to dissipate as he laid eyes on you, his precious wife. Coryo gestured the servants to leave the two of you alone as his steely gaze softened, and a small, genuine smile graced his lips as he approached.

"May I?" he gestured toward the empty space on the chair beside you. You nodded with an eager smile and he took a seat, his eyes fixed on your protruding belly which was covered by the softness of your silk dress. Gently, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "How are you feeling, my love?"

His voice, usually reserved and commanding to people outside of his inner circle, held a tenderness and softness that sent a comforting shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but smile at the sincerity in his question.

"I'm well, Coryo. Our baby seems to be quite content by these lychees," You chuckle as your rub your stomach. Coryo smiles, lychees were a rare fruit to come by this time of year but he made sure that you were fed only the most juiciest, ripe, lychees.

"I'm glad," he hums. His hand finds its way to your belly, fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of your dress, ghosting over your skin underneath. "It's a remarkable thing, life," he mused, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions—awe, anticipation, and a hint of vulnerability.

You watch him knowing where his mind was at. The thought of his mother dying during birth along with his baby sister. You knew that he was scared. Scared that maybe you would have the same fate as his late mother. But you assured Coryo, that times have changed and that you would be alright.

The weight of his responsibilities seemed to momentarily fade as he focused on you and the life growing inside you. Your fingers dipped into the fruit bowl, a lychee in between your fingers as you bring it to your lips, Coriolanus watching with fascination. The atmosphere hung in a delicate balance, as if time itself had slowed down to savour this tranquil interlude.

"Have you thought about names," he asked, breaking the silence. You chuckled softly, the sound echoing through the room, "I have actually. Vicky," you watch Snow's features contort into a mixture of emotions.

"Vicky. like my mothers-" "Yes, like your mother's name." You interrupt him as your thumb brushes over the back of his hand, a comforting gesture that spoke volumes. "I love it. Vicky Snow," He says with a smile on his face.

As you continued to share the bowl of fruit, the conversation drifted from politics to dreams, hopes and the shared future that awaited your family. Coriolanus, a man known for his strategic mind and politics, revealed a more vulnerable side, a side reserved for you, his wife carrying his child.

Time slipped away, and the room glowered in the soft hues of twilight. Coriolanus stood, his eyes lingering on you with an affectionate gaze. "I've got state matters to deal with, my dear. Just know, you and our child are always on my mind."

Days turned into weeks, and the swell of your belly grew more pronounced. The Capitol buzzed with excitement over the impending arrival of the newest member of the Snow legacy. Coriolanus, ever the stoic leader, became a pillar of support, attending to your needs with a grace that contradicted his ruthless reputation.

One evening, as the two of you stood on the balcony overlooking the Capitol, he wrapped his arms around you, his hands resting protectively on your belly. The lights of the city below shimmered like a sea of stars, and for a moment, it felt like the world paused to witness the union of power and vulnerability.

As the days dwindled down to the eagerly anticipated arrival, Coriolanus stood by your side, a beacon of strength. The birthing room, stark and sterile, contrasted sharply with the opulence of the Capitol. Yet, in that space, you found an intimacy that transcended the political stage.

The first cry of your newborn filled the room, and Coriolanus held the tiny bundle in his arms with a reverence that bordered on awe. His usually composed demeanor crumbled, replaced by the unfiltered joy of fatherhood.

"She's so beautiful, just like her mother," He whispers, his eyes never leaving the small face nestled in his arms. "Thank you, thank you for gifting me a gift beyond measure," Coryo looks at you as you couldn't help but let a teardrop roll down your cheek as you gazed at the future you had brought into the word.

You couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected beauty that had blossomed in the heart of the Capitol's calculated power.

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frostbitten-writer · 16 days ago

Text

Bathtub nights

Pairing: Ekko x gn!Firefly!reader

Tags: established relationship; no description of R; nakedness??? I don’t know how to name it, but no smut or suggestiveness; FLUFF

A/n: just a simple, cute one-shot that I thought about while daydreaming, so yeah, enjoy 🫶🏻

The rustling sound of leaves and the creaking of wood were the only things that could be heard in the slow night. The hideout was full and peaceful, the little ones kind of helping with the feeling of pure chaos. You were usually stuck with them during the day, but not that you were complaining, it’s just the fact that you saw Ekko even less. He was always so stiff and serious, never eating or caring for himself. The wrinkles and lines on his forehead were giving him a few more years than he had, making his young face look older. So that’s why you’re here, balancing the tray with his favourite dish in your hands while walking up the steps to his workshop, which, unfortunately for you, was at the top of the tree.

The wooden door creaked open and you slipped your head into the room, only to see an even more slumped version of Ekko sitting at his desk. To the sound of your steps, he turned around, and you could see his stiff face softening ever so lightly from your presence. The workplace was untidy and yet cozy, just like Ekko. The whole atmosphere was just screaming him. The room was illuminated by a small, warm lamp that made Ekkos eyes seem even warmer, the little specks of gold shining so bright, you almost felt your body melt.

Carefully setting the plate of food and bread down in the mess of his desk, you sat on his lap and wrapped your arms loosely around his neck while looking down at him with a tender smile.

“Hey..” He rasped out, voice groggy from several hours of silence, his callused and dirty from metal hands snaking up to your hips.

“Hi, tree boy, already studied everything about trees and their existence, or is there something more?” You joked, lips forming into a lazy grin, one hand coming up to one of his dreadlocks.

“Not yet, but I’m close to it..” He smiled, clearing his throat a bit before giggling quietly to you tickling him with his hair.

He looked at your face with a certain softness that only he could give to you, the expression of love no one else got to see. If you stared a bit longer into his eyes, you could promise you saw his pupils forming into hearts.

“What’s that that you brought..?” He mumbled, peeking at the plate with a mysterious meal.

“A bit of food, your favourite.. hazelnut soup~” You hooked his chin between your fingers, tugging his head back straight to face you, his big doe eyes looking at you with interest.

“Really..? You’re so good to me.. how did I get with you..” He mumbled and rested his forehead against your shoulder, his eyes drooping closed.

“Well, I have to feed you with something if you don’t eat yourself..” You teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, kneading the lumps and muscles.

He whined a bit at the sensation, head lolling to the side.

“I just- I didn’t have time to do so.. I feel like time’s running away from my grasp..” He whispered sincerely, looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“It’s okay, you just need some rest.. how about we take a warm bubble bath?” You suggested, doing your best to persuade him.

“You just want a reason to get me out of clothes..” He mumbled, his voice still tired but playful.

“Maybe~” You giggled quietly, jumping out of his grasp and then taking hold of his wrist. “Let’s go, space boy!”

He only chuckled, the steamy soup long forgotten while you two ran down the spiral steps.

Many Firelights stopped in their tracks at the sound of something or someone running down the stairs like a madman, their surprised expression growing back to neutral as they saw you two giggling and laughing. They all knew the effect you had on Ekko, they saw it by the way he would smile. Not the smirk he’d do when a plan worked, but a genuine one, an ecstatic grin.

When you reached your shared apartment, you slipped into the room, going straight to the bathroom, hands still clasped together.

The steam was rising smoothly from the tub, the mirror already fully fogged, making the room humid and warm. He was about to ask how you managed to get it full, if you had already thought about it before asking him at the workshop, but he quickly shut himself up to the smell of the new oil or soap you borrowed.

“I found a new lavender and vanilla oil at the topside, smells amazing, right~?” You purred out with a grin, his expression confused and yet happy.

“Of course you did, found it.” He rolled his eyes affectionately, tugging at the hem of his shirt and pulling it off.

You both were now settled down in the bathtub, foam and bubbles flying around in the mist. He held you against his bare chest, your back rubbing against his skin, his long legs enveloping you from both of your sides. His dreadlocks were wet, his muscles finally getting their rest.

“Now that's a way to end the day, right..?” He whispered and pressed some lazy pecks to your shoulder. You only hummed in response, shifting sideways to face him, your damp hand wiping his face paint off.

“You always do that..” He giggled quietly, closing his eyes affectionately to let you get to his nose and forehead.

“And you love it..” You watched the drops of white colour roll down his cheeks. The smile on your face grew intimate, the chaos temporarily fading away.

“I do..” He whispered back, kissing the inside of your palm before tackling you and pressing gentle and chaste pecks all over your face…

Support banner: @/cafekitsune

#frosty’s works #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #ekko x you #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #ekko #ekko league of legends #fluff #ekko fluff

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cherienymphe · 1 year ago

Text

Smells Like Teen Spirit (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON/DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, attempted murder + suicide, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, underage drinking, jealousy, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ cont.

summary: Being one half of the royal couple of Figure 8 isn't what it's cracked up to be.

The first time Rafe hit you, it was on your birthday.

Like every year, your parents threw you a big party that hosted no less than a hundred people. A good number of those people were friends from school and familiar faces you’d grown up with. The other bunch were family friends that had more in common with your parents than you. You took their pretty cards filled with money and thanked them with a smile, relieved when they scampered off to congregate with the other forty somethings.

It was the same party every year. Half the people of Figure 8 in attendance, an abundance of gifts you could barely keep up with, and a light scold or two from your mother to smile and greet the next person who came in. Your hair was flawless and your dress was the perfect length.

The only difference this year was the presence of a boyfriend at your side.

“Rafe, if my dad sees us, I will never hear the end of it.”

Your tone was light and teasing, and you said it with a smile, but there was a hint of seriousness there. It really didn’t matter how older you grew to be, you were sure you’d always be your daddy’s little girl. The older man already hadn’t been the most excited when you told him you were dating Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son, and you were positive that the Cameron family’s reputation was Rafe’s only saving grace.

You’d just turned eighteen then after all and was already flaunting your new adult status.

The blue-eyed boy in front of you merely chuckled, tightening his arms around your waist and leaning in to kiss you again. The house and the yard were filled with almost too many people, so you hadn’t hesitated when Rafe discreetly guided you upstairs.

“He’s too busy talking about his new boat, isn’t he?” he wondered. “He’ll talk all night if they let him.”

You lightly tapped his chest, but you didn’t voice any disagreement.

Your back was leaning against your bedroom door, the muffled sounds of some classical music reaching your ears through the wall. Rafe’s hands were tight on your waist, and you both felt and heard him chuckle again, his lips still pressed against yours. Only this time, he kept laughing—softly and to himself—and you gave him a slight frown when he pulled away.

“I was just thinking…” Rafe pulled you close again. “How hilarious it would be if he was going on and on about that damn boat…none the wiser to his daughter getting fucked on her birthday right upstairs.”

This time you hit him a little harder, and Rafe only laughed again.

“You’re not funny,” you scolded, deflating a little as you pulled away from him. “Way to ruin the mood.”

You said it quietly as you sat down on the edge of your bed, but Rafe heard it clearly, and when you looked up at him, you recognized the look on his face instantly.

“Funny,” he started, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door. “Mentioning sex usually has the opposite effect on most people.”

You rolled your eyes with a turn of your head, looking towards your window. The atmosphere was different, now, and you didn’t know if it was your fault or Rafe’s. He joked like that sometimes, and you knew it, so you could recognize that maybe you were being too sensitive.

The topic at hand, however, was a sensitive one for you.

“I really don’t want to have this fight, right now,” you mumbled.

You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t return it, determined to just stare down at the people in your yard. The air was thick, the tension even thicker, and you reached up to rub your arms, trying to rid them of the goosebumps that had appeared. Rafe hated being ignored, and you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue the conversation because you knew what was brewing.

Rafe was the perfect boyfriend. He was pretty—the kind of pretty that even some girls would be jealous of. He came from the kind of family that taught him about manners and respect. He never hesitated to do what he could to make your life easier despite growing up wanting for nothing. You didn’t think it was possible for an already spoiled girl to be spoiled some more until you started dating Rafe and he proved you wrong. He treated you like a princess, so yes. Rafe was the perfect boyfriend.

Mostly.

“I’ve been really understanding, you know…”

Rafe’s voice was low, and your gaze dropped to your lap.

“…but we’ve been dating for what? Eight months?”

You swallowed, eyes burning.

“Do you know how hard Topper and Kelce would laugh at me if they knew my girlfriend of almost a year refuses to have sex with me?”

You scoffed, finally looking at him, brows pulled together.

“You make it sound like I’m punishing you,” you breathed. “Rafe, this has nothing to do with you, I… I’m just not ready.”

“…and still no ETA on when you will be, huh?”

You blinked at him, lips parting at his callous tone and words. You looked away, blinking back tears because you would hate it if you cried on your birthday of all days.

“You’re being an asshole.”

You whispered it, and you heard Rafe huff.

“I’m not trying to be,” he told you, and you heard him move closer. “…but come on. I get it…”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you, and you felt his hand on your face, fingers grazing your cheek.

“You’re nervous, and it seems scary, but you’re treating me like I’m some stranger on the street, and not…your boyfriend. You know I’ll take care of you. I always take care of you, and that’s why I don’t understand it,” he bit out. “I treat you like gold, and here I am, eight months in and wondering if you even feel the same way.”

You whipped your head around to stare at him in disbelief, looking between his eyes. You didn’t know how he could be serious, but as you gazed at him, you realized that Rafe was very serious. You took a moment to scoot away from him just a tad.

“I show you everyday how much you mean to me, Rafe…but because I won’t have sex with you that means I don’t love you? So just forget all the other stuff, I guess,” you sneered.

Rafe reached for you when you started to turn away, shaking your head and lightly pushing at his hands. Today was your birthday, and you were fighting with your boyfriend…because sex was something you just weren’t ready for. You snatched your arm out of his hold, standing on unsteady legs.

“When you first brought this up, I told you then that I wasn’t ready, and you made it clear you were okay with waiting. Was that a lie?” you asked him, meeting his gaze.

Rafe ran his hand down his face, huffing to himself.

“No, but I just didn’t think I’d still be waiting almost half a year later.”

He was standing, now too.

“So, why are you? No one’s forcing you to stay here, Rafe,” you sadly told him with a shrug. “You don’t have to be with me if sex is that damn important to you. There are plenty of other girls out there who will happily give you what I don’t want to.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“…and I know because I see the looks they give you…and the looks they give me.”

You were used to envy. You’d been on the receiving end of it all your life. Growing up on this side of the island guaranteed that from birth, but you also knew it was because your standing was only rivaled by Sarah Cameron. If Rafe’s sister were anyone else, you might have found yourself involved in some one-sided rivalry, but Sarah was a lot like you.

Just a girl born into fortunate circumstances.

However, what you weren’t used to was envy because of the man you loved. When it came to your house and your lifestyle and everything else, it never bothered you because no one could take those things from you. Rafe, on the other hand… You knew what he was like and what he was used to. It was why you’d been very honest about your sexual history and lack thereof from almost the beginning. If Rafe was going to leave you for someone else all because you wouldn’t have sex with him, you would have rather he do it early.

Not now…not eight months in because now you loved him, and the thought made you want to cry, and it would take just as many months to get over him.

“If I wanted any of those other spoiled bitches then I wouldn’t be here,” Rafe told you. “Besides, you think I’m just going to walk away with nothing after investing so much time and money and energy into you?”

You reared back at that, eyes widening just a tad, and Rafe seemed to realize how that came out. He sighed, reaching for you just as you stepped away from him. You heard him curse when you left the room, ignoring the sound of him calling your name as you hurried to mix yourself in with all of your guests downstairs.

Rafe talked about you like some business investment he was waiting to get a return on. It hurt, a lot, and while you wanted to believe he hadn’t meant it like that in his head, you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was really how he saw you. Your mother smiled at you when she saw your face, none the wiser to your temporary absence. Your own smile was forced as she introduced you to their new golfing buddies.

You didn’t know when Rafe came back downstairs, only quickly glancing away when your eyes connected with his after some time. If your parents noticed your distance from him, they didn’t comment on it, and after a while, you barely noticed it yourself. You immersed yourself in your friends, halfway listening to boyfriend troubles and semester woes.

This was the only thing you and Rafe ever fought about. Plenty of your friends had boyfriends before who tried to pressure them into doing things they didn’t want to do. You were always the friend to tell them to dump them without hesitation, so why hadn’t you done the same? Was it because Rafe was so perfect in all other aspects of your relationship? The back and forth hadn’t ever been so serious before…not until tonight.

As you sipped on the drink you weren’t supposed to be having, you remembered the hurt you felt when Rafe implied you didn’t love him. What a crazy thing to say. You treated him just as well as he treated you, never mind the fact that you told him every day how much you loved him…but because you wouldn’t fuck him that meant otherwise?

It was enough to make you angry.

“Finally stopped hiding from me…?”

You tensed up for half a second, relaxing with a sigh as you heard him come closer. You were out by the water, now, sitting on the boat dock with one leg swinging. It had been nothing but just you and your thoughts for a good thirty minutes, and you guessed it took that amount of time for Rafe to realize you were no longer in the house.

“I don’t know yet,” you honestly told him.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t,” Rafe quietly said, getting straight to the point.

“…but I don’t know. You don’t even think I love you just because I won’t have sex with you. For all I know, that’s exactly how you see me,” you mumbled.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the guy ruining my birthday!”

You were looking up at him, now, tearfully, and you shook your head. Saying it aloud made you realize just how shitty it was, and you sniffed, pulling yourself to your feet.

“Just go home, Rafe…”

He stopped you from walking by him, and you ignored anything he was trying to say. The more he leaned in, that was when you smelled it, and your frown deepened at the stench of alcohol on his breath. You didn’t know why the smell made you so angry. It was a party, after all, but maybe it was the fact that if anyone of the two of you deserved to drown their sorrows in booze, it was you. Not Rafe. Pushing at his chest, you scoffed.

“One argument…and you’re already getting drunk?”

You jerked your face away from his hand, glowering at him.

“Don’t you want to at least wait for Ward to give you the daily disappointment speech?”

The slap wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was hard enough to make your face burn.

You were staring at the water from when your head had whipped to the side, and when a nightly breeze blew by, kissing your skin, only then did the dull burning sensation fade away into a painful one. Your lips were parted in shock, and you were slow to reach up and touch your cheek. The silence was loud, and when you finally looked at Rafe, he looked as shocked as you felt.

All of your breath had left you, and your brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to reconcile your boyfriend with the same guy who’d just slapped you. It didn’t seem real, and yet the dull pain you felt said otherwise. A few tears escaped against your will, and it was only then did Rafe move. His face fell, but you were already backing away.

“Y/N-.”

“Don’t touch me,” you tearfully spat. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t listen, grabbing your arms anyway, and you were still in too much shock to really fight back. Rafe cooed at you, trying to take your face into his hands no matter how much you protested. You wanted him far away from you, and your brain was unsure of how to achieve that, still grappling with the memory of his palm connecting with your cheek.

“Hey, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Baby, stop.”

You shoved at his chest, hitting it, but he wasn’t deterred. He only rested his free hand on the back of your head, holding you against him, and the feel had more tears spilling over. You kept trying to get away, but Rafe refused to let you, repeatedly apologizing and shushing you. You could feel the cool metal of his ring against your scalp, his lips there too as he kept telling you he was sorry.

Your chest was so tight, and it ached just as much as your face. Your mind was still fighting to make sense of what had happened tonight, and despite Rafe’s apologies for his entire behavior, you told yourself that this was the last straw. Rafe had ruined your birthday in more ways than one, and you were done. You had to be.

…because you deserved better.

The first time you had sex with Rafe—with anyone ever—you’d been terrified.

…and drunk.

An entire month after your birthday, and you didn’t know if you were more shocked or angry that you stayed with Rafe. You had been so determined to leave him that night. He had ruined your birthday beyond repair, and you knew that anytime you looked back on the night you turned nineteen, you’d only remember Rafe slapping you on the dock.

…but you’d also remember his profuse apologies, and the tears in his eyes as he begged you to forgive him.

He was drunk. That was what he kept saying, that he was drunk and acted before thinking. It was barely a reason and certainly wasn’t an excuse, so why did you stay? It was stupid to stay…and yet you did. You let Rafe kiss your face and lead you back to the party that had long died and smile in the face of the parents whose daughter he’d just hit.

You’d answered the phone as he called you, taking almost half an hour to just tell you again how sorry he was and how he didn’t know what came over him and how it would never happen again. You’d never known Rafe to be so apologetic in all the time you’d been dating him. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for the circumstances, and the whole time, you’d only been able to listen in silence with your fingers grazing your face.

You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for days, going over it in your head again and again. Torn between listening to your gut and telling yourself that it had just been a one-off thing, a bad drunken night. After all, what you’d said to him hadn’t been the nicest, knowing how he felt in regard to Ward and his relationship with him. It didn’t make it right…but you had provoked Rafe. You’d said it to hurt him…to make him angry… Right?

…but that wasn’t the case a month later.

Things between you and Rafe hadn’t been the same since. He still doted on you, and your parents still adored him, and you were reluctant to admit you still loved him, but you could never get that night out of your mind. You could never forget how swift it had been, how no thought to you had been spared. Rafe had only been focused on retaliating, hurting you, and it was something you often struggled with. You believed it wouldn’t happen again…but what if it did?

Without even realizing it, you became less argumentative with the blond. You gave him less pushback, you smiled more and became more agreeable to his suggestions. You spent more time with him, making him happy. You believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again, but in the back of your mind, something in you was doing everything you could think of to make sure it didn’t.

…and that was why you still didn’t quite understand how the fight had started.

Something about Topper…or Kelce.

You were so drunk, it was hard to remember.

“I saw you!”

You had blinked at Rafe from your place on the couch, staring up at him in wonder and confusion. Another Friday meant another party, and promising your mother you’d be back by a certain time, you’d allowed Rafe to help you into his truck. Nothing about the night had been out of the ordinary, and it was why you found yourself wracking your brain.

“Rafe, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you softly told him, trying to understand why he was so mad.

The only son of Ward Cameron knocked the glass of water right out of your hand, and you flinched at the action, blinking at the sight of shattered glass on the floor. You’d gotten it to try and help you sober up before you went home, and you stared at the spilled water with parted lips. You were too drunk to fully grasp the severity of the situation you were now in.

Suddenly Rafe was there, too close, leaning down over you with his hands resting on the back of the couch. You leaned back and away from him, eyes wide as he looked at you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. Like he was so disgusted with the sight of you, and again, you wracked your brain to understand what you’d done. To understand how to fix this.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been cold, icy, and you hadn’t missed the tick of his jaw. The alcohol in your system hindered your thinking, and that had seemed to make Rafe angrier, like he was furious you couldn’t put it together. Read his mind. Overwhelmed, you hadn’t been able to stop a few tears of frustration from escaping, and that just seemed to really send him over the edge.

“You were in his lap,” he had bit out, and only then did you finally understand.

Your odd relationship with your boyfriend these days had driven you to drink more than you ever had. You’d been sloppy…clumsy, and Topper was nice enough to help you back to your feet after you’d quite literally fallen right onto his lap. You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but one look into Rafe’s eyes had you swallowing it down.

He was very serious…and very angry.

You reached for him, but Rafe only slapped your hands away, straightening and looking down his nose at you. It was a look that made you feel so…cold, and with one blink, you remembered that you were alone. Sarah was God knows where, and the remaining Camerons had gone out to eat. The house was usually empty during this time, but it wasn’t this Friday night.

It consisted of you…and your angry boyfriend.

“I should…I should go. Call my mom,” you mumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

Your attempts to get by Rafe went unsuccessful, and with each block to your path, something deep within your gut just…dropped. Your gaze met a familiar blue one, and nothing about it was warm, welcoming. Rafe seemed to be so mad at you about something so silly, but instead of just talking about it later when you were both much clearer headed…he didn’t want to let you leave.

“Is that what you’re gonna do?” he’d mocked, a mean look on his face. “Call mommy and daddy to come get you?”

Sarah.

You reminded of him of Sarah.

That was what he’d said, what he’d thrown at you. His tense relationship with the other girl was no secret to anyone, least of all you, and you winced at every insult he threw at you. Spoiled brat. Perfect princess. Uptight prude. It shocked you for a lot of reasons, but mostly because Rafe wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t sober, but you’d hardly seen him drink all night and not nearly as much as you, and he was insulting you with confidence, throwing all of these things at you that you never knew he felt.

“I’m just going to go home, okay? You’re being an asshole, and I don’t know why, so I just…”

At some point, your back was grazing the wall, and Rafe was hovering before you, a look in his eye like leaving was the very last thing he wanted you to do. Every move of yours was mirrored, every turn met with one of his own, and for the first time ever…you were afraid of your boyfriend.

When Rafe hit you that night, you hadn’t been scared. Not really. You’d been angry…shocked…disbelieving. Not scared though. You’d just wanted to be away from him, you had even wanted to hit him back, but not once did you remember feeling scared for your life. Not like this night, and you couldn’t keep it together.

“Rafe, please, I just…I just wanna go home,” you choked out, touching your temple. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You were so confused as to how you got here. The night had taken such an unexpected turn, and more than anything, you wanted to sleep it off and write the whole thing off as a bad dream. You wanted to get some more water and take a shower and skip to the part where you had a pounding headache in the morning. You didn’t understand how a night of partying had turned into an argument with your boyfriend.

Although, you supposed it wasn’t much of an argument. Mostly Rafe yelling at you and you trying to understand why. Rafe was determined to make this into something it wasn’t, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to let you leave without dead-ing this whole thing, you frowned at him.

“I fell. You know I fell, you know…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe rolled his eyes, and something in you was telling you that Rafe was going to believe what he wanted to believe. He was determined to make something true, and it startled you to realize that you’d lost this argument before it even began. Slipping from in between Rafe and the wall was a mistake.

A mistake that had consequences.

Your purse was halfway across the room before you could even grab it good, Rafe suddenly in your face again. He was yelling about a whole bunch of nothing, and when you turned from him again, Rafe made sure it was the last time, gripping your upper arm so hard that you actually cried out. His other hand followed suit, and he shook you, hard enough to make your head whip back and forth.

The only time he listened to you was when you asked him to let you go.

…and he did just that…shoving you in the process.

The kitchen counter slowed your fall only a bit, but it added to the pain more than anything else. Trying to get up proved fruitless, because Rafe was there, kneeling before you with one hand on the counter. The other was on your face, forcing you to look at him. You were too drunk to make full sense of everything he was saying, to grasp the danger you were in. When you finally did, it was too late.

…because Rafe was already ripping the dress he bought you a week ago.

You thought it was a joke at first—some awful and insensitive scare tactic—until you were reaching up to pull at the hand around your throat. Your other hand slapped at the cabinets below in panic, and with a knee between your legs, it was impossible to close them. You knew that you were alone, but that fact didn’t stop you from crying out.

“You really expect me to just watch you throw yourself at my friends? Huh?”

The kitchen floor was cool against your back.

“…and laugh about it?”

He was fumbling between you both, and the room was spinning too much for you to understand why. You felt nauseous, and Rafe was hurting you, and you were cold. Not to mention that your head had started to hurt, but you also realized that everything was hurting.

“But you won’t even touch me.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut…only lower.

The pain of Rafe’s intrusion had you wailing, and the difference in your reactions couldn’t have been starker. It was hard to decipher, but you were sure that Rafe had moaned, a low drawn-out sigh as he sheathed himself inside of you. You could feel Rafe’s chest heaving against yours, could feel his heartbeat, could even hear his shaky breath.

You, on the other hand…

You couldn’t move. You felt frozen, restricted by something unseen, and when you tried to fight against it, you gasped. One shift had you wincing, and tears spilled over almost immediately. Your hands were pressing against his chest, now, desperately trying to push Rafe away, pushing off of you… out of you. It was no good, Rafe in a whole other world you weren’t privy too as he pulled back.

The feel had you wincing again, and you thought…

Well, you thought wrong.

Your relief was short-lived, and Rafe ignored everything you said as he started to thrust inside of you. His hips barely left yours, only enough to create friction, and you pushed your forearm against his neck, fighting to get him to stop. The pain wasn’t something you could wrap your head around, and you didn’t know if you were grateful or not that you were so drunk.

Every snap of Rafe’s hips made you cry harder, harsh sobs escaping and echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. The sound of your bawling was only rivaled by the groans that escaped Rafe, your boyfriend pointedly ignoring your plight. One of his hands pushed against your face, forcing your head to the side…as if he didn’t want to see your face.

See the reality of what he was doing to you.

You thought at some point that the pain would go away, subside, but it felt like it only got worse with each thrust of his cock. Rafe was a man on a mission with only one objective in mind, and you were having the hardest time sorting your thoughts, realizing that in this moment you were a means to an end. An objective to be met through the use of your body.

…but you supposed it was more than just that.

Rafe was always entitled, a trait you found somewhat endearing much like towards an entitled child, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he’d feel entitled to you too. Before the night of your birthday, you knew the one thorn in your relationship, the one thing to actually put a crack in your relationship. Deep down somewhere, you expected Rafe to just leave you. After all, why wouldn’t you?

There was no universe in which you’d ever consider the possibility of the alternative.

The possibility that your boyfriend would just take what he wanted.

It didn’t last long—or maybe that was the alcohol in your system sparing you—but you couldn’t even be relieved. Even after Rafe pulled out, spent and satisfied and out of breath, the pain still remained. He was talking, and you didn’t know if he was talking to himself or you, but you paid it no mind. You could still feel him deep in your gut, and you rolled onto your side, curling into yourself.

You didn’t hear him the first time, but the second time Rafe told you to get up, he was forcing you to your feet. It hurt, and you could barely walk, and your confusion only grew. His hold was tight, and his tone sounded off, and you discovered why when headlights from the yard bled through the windows and into your line of sight.

He was rushing you to get upstairs, but you kept stumbling from both the pain and your blurry vision. Rafe didn’t let you go until you were just inside of his room, and as you collapsed to the floor, you could hear the door opening downstairs. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted to, and you hadn’t even realized Rafe had left—to give some half-baked excuse for the broken glass, no doubt—until he returned, suddenly kneeling at your side and begging you to stop crying.

You tried to push him away, but your movements were sluggish, weak, and you weren’t able to hold your own as he pulled you to your feet. Rafe stumbled into the bathroom with you, an arm around you and holding you up as he started the shower. You didn’t want him touching you, but you were physically unable to stop him. Every step hurt and made you stumble, every wave of your arm made you sway, and when the warm water ran over you both, there was nothing you could do as he washed away every remnant of his assault.

You were at Rafe’s side on his birthday, a small smile on your lips as he kept an arm around your waist. Rose thanked you for coming, not that she would expect anything different, and Wheezie asked if you would be staying over. The youngest Cameron had taken a liking to you—all of them did really—and she looked forward to having you around. You wanted to tell her no, but that wasn’t what you said. Instead, you said:

“Its’ Rafe’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I?”

The dark-haired girl beamed, adjusting her glasses, and her satisfaction was contagious. You knew that Rafe’s dynamic with his family was tricky at the best of times, and while you were sure they loved you just fine, something in you also wondered if they liked who Rafe was when he was around you. They were happy to host you for as long as they could.

They had no idea that it was only 24 hours earlier when Rafe tried to kill you.

Trying to leave Rafe resulted in the last thing you ever expected.

That night—and all the other nights that followed—haunted you. When you closed your eyes, you could only see Rafe at his lowest, holding you down and hurting you. You could only feel the pain of him forcing himself inside of you, and the pain that lingered when he was no longer there. The memory of bloody water swirling down the drain was a constant in your mind. As well as the memory of Rafe putting you in his bed, pulling his shirt down to your knees.

You should have left the night of your birthday, you should’ve gotten out then, and none of it would have ever happened, but you told yourself that late was better than never. You told yourself that you learned your lesson and you didn’t have to experience any more hurt to leave. Your eyes were open, and while you didn’t know if you’d ever go against Rafe legally for what he did, you did know that you were leaving him. You had to focus on each step at once. Trying to think so far ahead was enough to scare you.

Right now, you just needed to leave him.

His entire visage had been eerily calm as you broke up with him, voice shaking as you did. Even he hadn’t been able to deny how your relationship had deteriorated, become something unrecognizable and unhealthy. The morning after, you felt like you were existing outside of your body. You could see Rafe leaving apologetic kisses along your face as you stirred, but you couldn’t really feel it. You couldn’t feel his hands either, not until they found a home between your legs, at least.

Your protest was almost immediate, but Rafe had assured you it was fine…and you were scared.

So, you believed him.

Experiencing pain and pleasure at the same time was foreign to you. Rafe’s previous assault was not something to be ignored, but it felt odd to come around him and hiss from the pain of it at the same time. He was gentle, pressing his lips to yours and grazing his fingertips against your skin. His thrusts had been slow and careful, but the damage had been done, and every push of his hips brought out conflicting reactions.

That was how it always went.

Even after the pain and bruises were long gone, you couldn’t stop being afraid of Rafe. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t respect any kind of refusal from you. What kind of relationship was that? How could you thrive in that? Rafe may have been your first everything, but you weren’t naïve. He was an abusive asshole…and you were just too scared to do something about it.

Until last night.

You thought it would be easy. You even remembered internally laughing at yourself for how dramatic you’d made it in your mind. You thought… You thought that Rafe would move on, let you go. After all, he’d finally gotten what he wanted, and you had even exhaled when he nodded, a soft ‘okay’ soon to follow.

“Let me drive you home,” he’d said.

“Okay,” you’d replied.

You didn’t know why you thought it would be that easy.

Things with Rafe hadn’t been easy in months, and your attempted breakup was no different.

You realized that when the needle on the speedometer started to rapidly climb, the sound of Rafe’s revving engine loud in the truck. You asked him what was going on, where he was going, even though deep down you knew. You knew Rafe better than anyone probably, so you knew the answers to your questions before you even asked them.

“Rafe, stop,” you’d begged, reaching for his arm, but the blond simply fixed you with a wry smile.

“Why?” he’d wondered with a shrug. “So, you can leave me? Why would I want that?”

The houses and trees were flying past you outside the window, and you never felt more powerless than in the moment you were trapped in Rafe’s truck, unable to do a thing as he raced down the road towards the end he’d already picked out for the both of you. Any attempt to grab the wheel only resulted in Rafe jerking it—jerking the vehicle in the process—and scaring the shit out of you.

Retracting everything you’d said earlier only resulted in a harsh slap to the steering wheel, a dry laugh from Rafe soon to follow.

“You think I believe that load of shit? Huh?”

“Rafe-!”

“You just tried to break up with me not even thirty minutes ago,” he screamed.

He wasn’t wrong, and you still wanted to, but you were more afraid of dying than living a lie. You pleaded with your boyfriend, assuring him that you didn’t mean it. He only laughed again, and you got the feeling that Rafe was genuinely amused by you. By your tears, by your fear, and by your desperation.

Your heart was racing so fast it could be classified as painful. Your hands were sweating and constantly sliding against the door from where you tried to hold on to it. You pulled at his arm when he swerved into the other lane, swerving back just in time to miss an oncoming truck. Your stomach twisted painfully, bile rising in your throat, and at this point you couldn’t even see the road because of your tears.

“Rafe, please, please just talk to me,” you cried.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, blue eyes focused on the road with not a glance spared towards you, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. You looked out of the window again, unable to make out a thing, and when you reached for Rafe this time, he didn’t slap your hand away. He didn’t protest when you wrapped your arm around his waist, leaning into him and resting your hand against his chest.

You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, and you didn’t know if you stopped fighting as some unconscious tactic or simply because you were accepting what was impossible to escape. Rafe had to have been going a hundred miles an hour, this kind of speed something your brain could barely fathom. It was after some time when you felt his hand on your head and some time after that when you gradually felt the truck slowing.

You were still shaking long after it came to a stop in some wooded area, and the silence in the vehicle was loud. Rafe was just playing with your hair while you trembled against him, and when he stopped, it was only to trail his hand to your neck, gripping the back of it harshly as he forced you to sit up. You knew you looked as distraught as you felt, but Rafe…

Rafe looked calm and in control and nothing less.

His blue eyes ran over your face, drinking in your trembling lips and wet cheeks, lingering on your wide eyes the longest. You felt him rub his thumb along your skin, and when he hummed, it harshly pressed against the side of your neck. Suddenly, the corner of his pink lips curved just the slightest, and nothing about it was soothing.

“I wasn’t serious… You know that, right?”

You didn’t respond because he wasn’t kidding, and you both knew it. Rafe shifted, moving closer, and he brought his other hand up to touch your cheek, wiping your tears away. He studied your eyes, leaning in and grazing your lips.

“It was just…something I didn’t mean. You understand though. Doing things…saying things we don’t mean,” he slowly said to you, swiping his tongue between his lips. “Right…?”

The drop in his voice and the slight raise of his brows had you swallowing, and he was looking at you like he dared you to disagree. Fighting the urge to throw up, and with a shaky nod, you told Rafe what he wanted to hear.

“Right,” you whispered, and he chuckled.

“Alright,” he breathed with a blinding smile, pulling you into his side. “Kelce is throwing together some small thing at his house. I told him we might stop by…”

He trailed off, leaving room for a comment, and you only shrugged.

“That’s fine with me.”

Your voice was barely audible, but Rafe heard you fine, starting the truck and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I knew it would be.”

You’d been quiet the whole night, and you’d been quiet all day, only existing as silent support to Rafe on his birthday. If anyone noticed your reserved demeanor, no one commented on it. No one knew that as you wished Rafe a happy birthday, you were afraid of what could happen if you didn’t smile hard enough. When he kissed you, you could only think of how he’d kissed you after threatening to kill you both. Every time Rafe held your hand, it felt like a chain tethering you to him.

You dreaded the moment the party would thin out and everyone would start trickling from the home in pairs, heading back to the comfort of their own homes until just Rafe and his family remained. Eventually they would call it a night too, and you and Rafe would be alone, and you wouldn’t have a choice but to kiss him back when he eventually kissed you.

…and kiss you he did.

“You almost ruined my birthday, you know,” he mumbled into the kiss, making you pause for half a second.

Your only response was a quiet apology, and Rafe sighed into your mouth.

“That’s okay, baby,” the blond purred. “You know I’ll let you make it up to me.”

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and that was why you let him undress you. You let him wrap his arms around you and hold you close and press kisses to your skin. It was surreal to have sexy with someone you were afraid of, like you were being held hostage in your own body. If Rafe noticed—and you were sure that he did—he didn’t care.

He was content to lay you down and bury his face into the crook of your neck. In fact, you were sure Rafe liked your fear, liked that you were so scared of him. You thought it made it all the more fun for him to push his cock into you and feel you tremble in fear. You just knew there was something in Rafe that took great pleasure in making you momentarily sacrifice your fear of him for ecstasy instead.

He forced your head back, and your chest arched upwards into him. You gasped at the feel of his tongue on your skin, gliding over a hardened bud and tasting you. His hips came down slowly, like he was savoring the feel of you clinging to his cock. He sighed with every thrust, and you were never able to swallow down your own moans once Rafe started stroking that fire building within you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, nipping at your lip as he plunged his cock into you.

One of your legs were thrown over his shoulder, and the stretch burned in a way that wasn’t painful but wasn’t the best either. One of your hands was wrapping around his arm, trying to ground yourself as the other twisted into his sheets. You couldn’t stop gasping, clenching down on him every time Rafe hit that spot in you that made you lose your breath.

When he pushed your leg back more, you yelped in pain, but Rafe only hummed. His thrusts became rougher, and he only hummed again when you hissed. Your hand rested on his chest, pushing against him slightly—a nonverbal communication—but Rafe ignored it.

“Rafe…”

His hips were slapping against yours, and you couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it. Your other hand came up too, and he slapped it away, that same hand wrapped around your throat only moments later. You let out a choked cry, reaching up, but Rafe didn’t stop, continuing to fuck you and choke you.

“Look at me-look at me,” he quietly spat.

Too afraid not to, you did, your distressed gaze meeting his even one in the low lighting. He was so close, nose almost brushing against yours, and he looked between your eyes. His hand tightened around your neck, making your heart skip a beat, and his free hand covered your breast, squeezing it, and your free leg kicked at the sheets.

“I will kill you.”

Your nails pressed into the skin on his arm.

“Do you understand me? You try to leave me again…and I will kill you.”

Your heart was threatening to burst from your chest, and the ceiling behind Rafe’s face was starting to blur. The edges of your vision were growing faint, darkness creeping along the outer rim.

“I will dump your body on the side of the road, and I will get away with it.”

His words and cadence were slow, purposeful, and you knew that Rafe was entirely serious. Tears had long spilled over, and you couldn’t stop crying. Rafe shook you, your neck straining from the action, and the whole time he kept fucking you. His lower movements didn’t stop once, sliding into you over and over and stroking your walls all the while he threatened you.

He roughly let you go, and you coughed, touching your throat and shaking uncontrollably. When Rafe shifted, your leg falling to the bed, you pressed your hands to your face, sobbing into the palms of them. Rafe caged you in, thighs meeting yours with every thrust, and he didn’t seem to care at all at the sight of your distress. In fact, he kissed the back of your hands, humming with every stroke, and you could only think that if you had broken up with him on your birthday then he wouldn’t be threatening your life on his.

Ward Cameron may have felt a lot of things about Rafe, but he wasn’t going to let his only son go to jail.

You should have known that when you called the police, throat tight and phone call tearful as they asked what your emergency was. Telling the woman on the other side of the phone that you were hiding from Rafe Cameron inside of the bathroom wasn’t easy. Telling her that he had a gun was even harder, and something in you wondered if they would’ve been as urgent if they hadn’t heard his booming voice from the other side of the door as he threatened you.

You were sitting on the steps when a familiar car pulled into the driveway behind the cruiser, and you felt your face crumble. There was some relief as the older man went back and forth with Shoupe, but it dwindled the longer it went on. When Ward turned his head towards you, you dropped your gaze, eyes tracing the blood on your foot from where a few shards of glass had nicked it. You didn’t dare look up, not even when you heard his footsteps approaching despite the loud protests from the Sheriff.

When Ward said your name, it was cautious—gentle—and you shook your head.

“No.”

Your name rolled off of his tongue again, and you interrupted whatever he was going to say.

“No, no, no! No,” you cried.

You knew what he was going to say, where this was going, and you refused. You were tired, so tired, and each time you’d tried to do the right thing after your disastrous birthday, you got screwed over. Each time, Rafe was one step ahead or using that charming smile and devious words to convince you it would never happen again. Every slap, every shove, every hand around your throat was proof of all the lies that left his lips.

You were sure that the only truth Rafe had ever told was when he said he’d kill you.

It was silent between you two for some time, and you heard Ward sigh. You bit your lip, worrying it so much you started to taste blood, and you sniffed, wiping your face as you refused to look at the man. When he took another step towards you, you flinched, and only then did you look up to see the way Ward’s face fell.

You watched him press his lips together, only a thin line, now.

“I want you to tell me what happened.”

You scoffed.

“You know what happened. I’m sure Shoupe told you,” you forced out, and Ward exhaled through his nose.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder, looking at his son in the back of the cop car.

“I want to hear it from you. I want to know how a couple’s quarrel turned into-.”

“A couple’s quarrel?” you repeated in disbelief, tears falling as you exhaled. “He threw a vase at me. He put a gun in my mouth.”

You couldn’t tell how Ward took your words, but he did put his hands on his hips.

“Now, Y/N…you know it’s a crime to lie to the police.”

His response didn’t surprise you, and you nodded, your laugh humorless. Ward knew you were telling the truth, he knew just how unhinged Rafe could be, but he didn’t want him in jail. He couldn’t have the Cameron name tarnished by the arrest of his only son on domestic violence charges. Ward would rather handle this in private, away from prying eyes…and it disgusted you.

“I’m not lying, and you know I’m not lying,” you choked out.

“Why would Rafe do this? Right out of the blue?”

You were on your feet, now, sneering at the other man.

“It’s not out of the blue. Rafe has been treating me like shit for months!”

“…and this is the first we’re hearing of it…?”

The eldest Cameron tilted his head to the side, studying you, and you felt your breath leave you. You watched him touch his chest, gaze soft as he seemed to plead with you.

“Now, I’m not saying that’s not true…but you know that’s what they’re going to ask you. They’re going to ask you why you didn’t tell anyone…and they’re going to note how convenient this all is.”

You knew that, and you looked away, hands falling at your side.

“Rafe says you dropped a vase, and it started an argument.”

“He’s lying-.”

“…and anyone can say you’re the liar.”

You pressed your hands to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell. Even through your lids, you could see the change in colors from the flash of the squad car, and when you opened your eyes again, the procession of red and blue lit the yard.

“That gun is legally his…and no one saw him do what you claim he did.”

“Why are you protecting him?” you loudly wondered, looking at the man in disbelief.

You’d eaten dinner with his family, even watched his daughter some nights, and he’d smiled in your face on numerous occasions, treating you like his own. Now, though…when push came to shove…Ward Cameron was showing you that you were not one of his own. Rafe was his own…and you were now a threat.

He took a step towards you, and you reached out to grip the rail to keep yourself from falling.

“I am just telling you what will happen if you continue with this,” he slowly started, and you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him. “They will take Rafe away, and I will pay his bail, and he’ll come home with me. There were no witnesses, and everything is pure speculation, a simple case of he said she said.”

You knew that he was right, and you felt yourself start to shake.

“…and in that scenario, I can’t help you.”

You knew what he was saying. You knew that he was talking about protecting you from more than just scrutiny and the law—he was also talking about protecting you from Rafe. Your lips parted, and you shakily exhaled. You felt like you were going to collapse, legs unsteady, and when you looked over…your eyes finally met a familiar blue pair.

You were positive that Rafe hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since they’d put handcuffs on him. If looks could kill, you were sure that you’d be six feet under, and you frantically blinked. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, and your stomach churned at the memory of his hand on the back of your neck. His other held the gun, angrily forcing the weapon into your mouth as he sneered at you.

Something about returning the smile from some pogue at The Wreck—blond and rowdy and kind of familiar.

You recalled that his name was JJ.

The fight had started almost as soon as you got inside, and you shuddered at the flare of pain in your arm, recalling the way Rafe had shoved you into the wall. You’d only slid down just in time to miss the flying vase. Just thinking about it was enough to paralyze you with fear…and then you thought about what would happen should you choose to have a legal battle with Rafe and his family.

…and lose.

You let out a choked sob, looking away, and letting your face fall into your hands. You collapsed back down onto the steps, Ward’s voice reaching you.

“You tell Shoupe this was all one big misunderstanding…and I can do so much more for you. …but I can’t help you if you go through with this.”

You couldn’t stop crying, because you were trapped…and you knew it. Your parents had money too, just as much as the Cameron’s, but that only evened the playing field, it gave you no advantage, and you were back to square one of your word vs Rafe’s. You knew he would be far more forgiving if you just…did what Ward said. You knew that if you went through with this and lost, Rafe would wring your neck.

“I won’t let my son go to jail, Y/N. One way or another…”

You knew he was telling the truth, the conviction in his tone matching the certainty in your chest.

“…but at least this way, I can help you.”

Your knees bounced as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your tearful gaze focused on the perfectly manicured grass. You curled in on yourself, head falling, and your shoulders shook from your sobs.

“He scares me,” you struggled to say, and Ward placated you.

“I know…I know he does, but you have to let me help you.”

You pulled the ends of your sleeves over your hands, wiping your face. The night was still lit up with red and blue, and you closed your eyes, stomach sinking. It took everything in you to give Ward a shaky nod, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Ward waved the other man over.

You felt like you were betraying yourself, arm still aching and throat still raw from all of your screaming. A lot of your trembling was still from what had happened hours ago, and like that day in his truck…and the night of his party…you’d really thought you were going to die. You couldn’t go through that again, but Ward said that he would protect you because you knew Rafe better than anyone, and you knew that if you tried to press charges against Rafe and didn’t succeed…

He would kill you.

“Y/N wants to talk to you.”

You glanced up at the sound of your name, holding Ward’s gaze for a few seconds before finally meeting Shoupe’s.

“I want… I don’t-I don’t wanna press charges.”

Your words tumbled out, and for a moment, you were sure that Shoupe hadn’t heard you properly. You came to realize that he heard you fine, and his confusion wasn’t from a lack of understanding. You watched him rest his hands on his hips, looking between you and Ward.

“Now, Y/N…” he started, seemingly trying to organize his thoughts. “I heard that phone call. I heard what you said and I heard him yelling.”

“It was just a regular argument, Shoupe,” you whispered with a shrug. “It was stupid. A stupid vase…”

“That he threw…”

The pause was heavy, and you glanced away.

“That I dropped.”

You shook your head when he said your name, and you licked your lips, gaze pleading as they met his again.

“Please, just let him go. He didn’t do anything to me. It was a stupid fight that I exaggerated because…I was angry and things got out of hand, and this just went way beyond what I intended, so…”

The other man didn’t look like he believed you, at all, and you watched him glance at Ward—who hadn’t said a thing—before looking back to you. He sighed, fixing you with a look you couldn’t name.

“Are you sure…?”

Your only response was a nod, unsure if you could lie any more without breaking down. With an aggravated sigh—aggravation at you or at Ward, you didn’t know—Shoupe signaled to his deputy to let Rafe go. Ward was pulled to the side as the two men had a hushed and heated conversation, going back and forth, while your gaze rested on Rafe.

You felt like you were doing the worst thing possible as you watched them guide him out of the backseat. He looked far from happy as they uncuffed him, and just like all night, his gaze refused to leave you. The flashing red and blue bathed him, blue eyes glinting almost dangerously, and you pressed your lips together while you watched him rub his now free wrists.

The other men were distracted as Rafe slowly made his way over, and you didn’t dare move. You were too scared to, and as much as you wanted to pull your eyes away, you couldn’t find the strength to. It was just hours ago that you’d stared into that face as he yelled at you for something as harmless as a smile. Only hours ago, he was pushing you around and threatening you.

…and now those same hands were reaching for you and pulling you to your feet.

You cried for so many reasons as Rafe wrapped his arms around you, rocking you from side to side and shushing you in what was meant to be a soothing voice. They were tight, and you cried harder, apologies slipping past your lips before you realized what you were doing. Rafe was always quick to forgive if you were quick to apologize.

“I know,” you heard and felt him murmur into your hair.

“Please, please don’t…”

You both knew what you were begging for, and he gently shushed you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out again, repeating it as many times as you thought you should, hoping and praying that it was enough. “You have to know that…”

Your words died in the air at the sound of his voice.

“I should be angry with you…but I understand,” he softly told you. “You were scared, and you should’ve been.”

You sniffed, staring at the red and blue grass.

“I went too far, and you were right to be scared.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there, telling you the words that brought you temporary relief.

“I forgive you.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction

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everylhs · 2 years ago

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#orv #everylhs #lee hyunsung #lhs #bonus lgy #bonus kdj #bonus sys #bonus ljh #bonus michio #bonus asuka ren #group shot!#also loved the larger spread. the fireflies adds to the atmosphere #orv ep133

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sehunniepotwrites · 4 months ago

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with a little pixie dust | mk.l

It’s just a little faith and trust, and with a little pixie dust, your wildest dreams will be yours.

SYNOPSIS. There are so many ways your friend group could have chosen to celebrate your graduation from university but they chose the one way that fit their childlike antics most of all–going to Disneyland. With all the screams of joy and laughter filing the atmosphere, you see why people call it The Happiest Place on Earth. It’s where magic comes alive, hearts soar to the skies, and where dreams come true. With your dream job already lined up for you once you get back from this vacation, you wonder if your last and wildest fantasy–the one that carries Mark Lee endearingly close to your heart–will take flight. (But don’t worry; your best friends, with a little help of pixie dust, are determined to make it come alive by the end of night.)

GENRE. Fluff, Comedy, Best friends-to-lovers!AU, Theme Park!AU, Disneyland!AU, meddling/matchmaking friend group, all the romantic tropes that come with a theme park setting

WORD COUNT. 11.9k

WARNINGS. a lot of Disney references (movies, songs, parks, etc.), profanity, food/drink consumption, theme park rides, nothing too crazy tbh

PARK ANNOUNCEMENTS. I understand that not everyone has been to Disneyland. Because I want to paint the perfect picture in your head as you read through the fic, each scene will be titled with the land/area they are in and a picture of the land/area will be hyperlinked with a visual. It's unnecessary to click them but it would be a lil helpful! <3 DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work.

Your graduation commencement came and went. The spectacle flew by so slowly but so quickly at the same time. You can’t exactly describe how you’re feeling now that you’ve graduated–relief is mixed in with panic, happiness mixed with dread. It’s a jumble of emotions you can’t quite comprehend but alas, that is the wonder of adulthood.

The happiest takeaway from your college experience is not the expensive degree you earned but the special friends you made. Karina was the first friend you made in college because she was your roommate. She introduced you to her high school friend, Jeno, who then dragged you two to the ginormous welcome event. It was there you met Donghyuck and last but definitely not least, Mark Lee.

The other two boys were attractive, yes, but there was something about Mark that drew you to him. Donghyuck talked as much as him, sure, and Jeno’s attractiveness was on another level than Mark’s but that boy immediately caught your attention. Maybe it was the way he spoke and never completed a thought or the way he’d laugh so unabashedly, losing all control of his body that got to you. He was so incredibly endearing that your heart just claimed him. Years later, when the friendship is stronger than ever, that beating muscle in your chest refuses to let Mark go.

One morning the summer after graduation, you wake up in a hotel room with an alarm blaring at 6:00am. You roll over and groan, blindly reaching to stop the device. Karina is rustling inside the sheets next to you, hoping the noise will go away. Jeno and Donghyuck are on the other bed snoring up a storm. Mark, on the other hand, rolls uncomfortably on the pull-out couch.

On normal days, the alarm set for six in the morning would be a sin but today is not a regular day. It is the day your group saved up for.

The five of you, with your similar interests in movies and theme parks, wanted to go to Disneyland together for years. After graduation, you finally had the money and freedom for it.

Your hypothetical plan finally made it out of the group chat—that is your driving force to get up. While doing so, you hit Karina’s side and she grumbles in response. The two of you agreed you’d wake up earlier since it would take you longer to get ready. The guys, however, could sleep in.

As you quietly pass by the couch, Mark asks, “Is it time to get up already?” He must’ve heard the shuffling. There's darkness under his eyes. You can tell he didn’t sleep well last night. On top of his eyes struggling to open up, his voice sounds incredibly hoarse and filled with fatigue.

“No,” you answer, patting his messy head of brown hair. His body reacts positively to your touch, eyes closed and neck stretching to meet your touch. He releases a relaxed sigh as your fingers card through his thick strands.

Lowering yourself to his level, you continue to play with his hair. “Sleep well last night?”

“Nah, not really, like dude, this shit really isn’t comfortable,” he complains with a deep exhale, “but I volunteered to take the couch so…”

“Move to mine,” you tell him, gesturing to the unmade bed. You hear the water running and figure that Karina jumped into the shower to help wake herself up. “Try to get a little more sleep, I’ll wake you up in a bit.”

Too tired to fight back, Mark languidly moves towards the bed. Once close enough, his body drops onto the mattress and he wiggles his way under the covers. You watch him until his breathing evens out. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep; after all, he did most of the driving on your road trip down to Southern California. Satisfied, you move to start your morning hotel routine.

The fresh smell of coffee hits you as you do your skin care, apply your makeup, and brush your teeth. Karina’s done in the bathroom shortly after and you claim it to change into your outfit of the day. When the final touches of your look are finished, forty minutes have passed and it’s time to wake up the rest.

You wake Jeno first because he’s the easiest and whisper that there’s fresh coffee waiting for him. Donghyuck throws a bit of a fit when you shake him awake, stuffing his face in his pillow. He gets up after a few threats from Karina, whining over how mean she is to him.

Part of you wants to let Mark rest for a little bit longer, especially after knowing how exhausted he is. There’s the option of letting the other three go first while you wait for Mark to wake up naturally. The other half of you, however, thinks about two things: how much money you all spent getting these tickets and how you promised each other to be at Disneyland from open to close to make your splurge worth it. Being Mark’s best friend, you know how disappointed the guy would be if you stayed behind with him. So with no choice left, you wake him up.

You do so gently, your hand immediately going back to his unruly hair. You comb back his bangs and hold them in place. “Mark, it’s your turn now, everyone else is almost ready.”

As soon as he hears your voice, he stirs. Mark blinks the sleep away, and suddenly, you are the first thing he sees. With you sitting on the bed next to him and your hand still in his hair, Mark thinks he’s still dreaming. “Hmmm?”

“It’s your turn, Spidey,” you say, taking a sip of coffee. “We’re all ready.”

He buries his head in your lap for just a second, wanting to keep this little moment with him a little longer.

“Okay,” he finally says a minute later, before slipping out of bed.

Karina claims her rightful place next to you on your shared bed, still warm from Mark’s little nap. She shoots you a look and you ignore her knowing stare. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she challenges you, perfectly drawn eyebrows raised in question.

“That,” you gesture to her face.

“Oh, you mean the look I’m giving you when you share a little cute moment with your best friend who is most definitely more than a best friend, fine, I won’t do that,” Karina pretends to give up, her hands raised in surrender.

You shush her at once, looking over to the boys that are currently fighting over the sink. Mark’s already dressed in some black cargo pants and an oversized Spider-Man shirt. He’s in the midst of styling his hair, struggling with one strand that will not stay in place. You hear his frustrated huffs and puffs while Jeno and Haechan chuckle at his antics.

“Does my baby need help?” Donghyuck teases, reaching for Mark’s hair.

“Yo, dude, no, stop! You’re gonna mess it up!” Mark shouts, backing away from him. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

“But you can’t do it on your own, my sweet baby, I’ll help you,” Donghyuck continues with the bit.

You remove yourself from Karina’s conversation and break the two idiots up.

“C’mere,” you gesture towards Mark.

He instantly comes to you, dipping his head down to your level as you lean against a piece of furniture. Your fingertips curl that one strand just the way he likes it, framing his forehead, and smile when it’s all finished. So focused on his hair, you almost don’t notice how close his face is to yours. Your breath hitches and you lean back to create more distance.

Removing your hand from his hair, you smooth the non-existent wrinkles on his baggy tee.“There you go, not hard at all.”

“Right,” he murmurs back, body frozen in place but his large, pretty eyes still aimed at you.

You clear your throat. “I, um, need to–”

“Oh yeah no, sorry,” he stumbles over his words, moving so you can get through. You shuffle past him, pretending to do a last minute check of your crossbody bag. His stare lingers on you as you fuss over your belongings and put on your Mickey ears.

You try to shake away your thoughts but Karina won’t let you. She slides up to you with a playful smile. “Not even eight in the morning and you’ve already had two little moments. When’s number three happening?”

“In your wildest dreams,” you snap back with a hiss, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Wanting to avoid the conversation from moving further, you open the door. “Let’s move, slowpokes, we gotta go!”

“Or yours,” Karina takes the last word as she exits the room.

You can’t argue with your roommate because she’s right. You've been wanting to be with Mark and calling him yours since your first year. Yes, there were times in the past when it seemed like he wanted the same–moments just like the two you just shared–but nothing was explicitly said or done. Feelings were left unsaid. They lingered in the air until the romantic vibe fizzled out and the moment ended. To love and be loved by Mark Lee is your wildest dream. It’s the one you’re sure will never come true. However, there’s a sort of magic in the air in Disneyland–a magic that will make even the impossible possible. You wonder if that bit of magic will apply to you, too.

✨ TOMORROWLAND

7:45am arrives and your friends are following you like little ducklings following their mother. Without you, they would be lost causes.

It’s not your first time in the parks so naturally, you are the one who takes charge. You have all the tickets on your phone, scanning them one by one at the main entrance gate as your friends go through the turnstiles. They wait patiently until you are the last one through the gate.

Karina holds your hand, giggling as you stroll through Main Street, happily taking in the sights and sounds of Disneyland. Mark, Jeno, and Donghyuck are behind you, phones out to capture anything and everything in sight. You hear them excitedly discussing the map, mentioning things that they want to do, and you mentally take note of them all.

At exactly 8am, the ropes held by the cast members drop, signaling the official opening of the park. You quickly lead your friends towards the right of the famous castle and fight your way into Tomorrowland for Space Mountain. As one of the most popular attractions, it’s not so bad in the mornings when you’re one of the firsts in line. Jeno mentioned this ride in the past and you are determined to get him on it.

The crowd is packed like sardines and Karina links her arm through yours as people shove their way through. Amidst the craziness, someone grabs hold of your free hand from behind. From the way his hand fits in yours, you can tell exactly who it is. Jeno’s hand is much larger than this one and it’s a lot rougher than Donghyuck.

You turn your head to see Mark who asks you a question with a simple look. He knows you’re not too fond of crowds and is using this silent exchange as a check-up. You appreciate the gesture, much like how you appreciate every other way Mark looks out for you, and reassure him with a squeeze of his hand. You’ve frequented the park many times over the years so despite the mass of people, you know the theme park like the back of your hand. Mark returns the action and brushes his thumb against your knuckles. He doesn’t let go as the crowd dissipates into the ride queue and you don’t mind that at all.

As much as you love this dark roller coaster, you partially dread going on the ride, or any ride for that matter. The uneven number in your group guarantees that one person will be a single rider throughout the day and you are certain that will be you. Jeno and Karina have been dating for a while now, so it makes sense that they ride together. Even with Mark’s hand still in yours, you’re certain he’ll sit with Donghyuck. When it comes to Mark, Donghyuck loves to cling to his best friend, no matter how annoyed the older one gets. It’s their thing and has been since childhood so who are you to get in the way of that?

The wait goes by quickly, especially with the entertaining debates your friend group comes up with while queued up. It takes your group a mere thirty minutes to get to the front of the line. Once assigned your rows, you wiggle your hand out of Mark’s grip and silently move toward the last gate to make room for Donghyuck.

“Wait, where are you going?” Mark masks his hurt with a confused tone.

“To the back,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” his tone drops and you can barely hear him through the echoing sounds of the ride. “I thought–”

“Huh?” you shout from the back row.

Seeing you in the last row, Donghyuck pauses for a second as if contemplating on where to go. “Wait. Why are you here?”

“What do you mean? Are you saying I can’t be here?”

“No. You’re supposed to be–” Your mischievous friend is cut off by the gates opening and the employees instructing you to enter and lower your lap bars. You do what they say and Donghyuck sighs before moving to sit with Mark.

You notice the frustrated look on Donghyuck’s face and an exasperated one on Mark’s but it’s too loud in the room to hear whatever serious thing they’re discussing. You try to lean in closer to catch a glimpse of their conversation but by the time the safety checks are done, you’re launched into darkness at a high speed with the ride soundtrack and Mark’s screams of terror filling your ears.

The ride ends quickly and you all rush to find your photo. Everyone in your vehicle looks like they enjoyed the ride minus Mark, who hid his handsome face in Donghyuck’s arm. The green-eyed monster makes a short appearance in your mind and you wonder how it would’ve been if you stayed with Mark. Would he cling onto you like that too, with his arm looped through yours and his face buried in your neck?

“Why didn’t you tell me this was a roller coaster?” Mark whines as you take a picture of the screen. You immediately send it to your group chat and Giselle, the one person missing on this trip, reacts to it right away.

“Because I knew you’d try to get out of it, you scaredy cat.”

“Rude,” he scoffs, clinging onto you as you lead them to a breakfast spot.

“Spidey, it’s really not that bad.”

“Yeah, says the thrill seeker,” Mark pouts at you, which makes you pinch his cheek. It’s not as soft as it used to be, his baby fat from your first year long gone. It’s replaced by the prominent bone structure that only highlights the features that you secretly want to kiss. “Warn a guy next time.”

“Okay, okay but you still did it! I’m proud of you!”

“Yeah but…” His voice trails off.

“But?” You echo, wondering what Mark wants to say.

He looks shyly at you, a faint redness painting his skin, “Can you sit by me next time?” He asks because you make him feel brave even when he isn’t.

Mark’s timid request has you grinning from ear to ear and your heart beating faster than any roller coaster you’ve been on. Your best friend is expecting an answer, you can tell by his teeth sinking into his thin bottom lip and brown boba eyes widening with each second.

“I mean, you know, like, sitting with Hyuck is cool,” Mark stutters when you don’t answer, trying to explain himself, “but I’d–well, I thought you were gonna sit next to me?” His voice raises at the end due to nervousness and you can’t help but giggle.

“You mean, you were gonna leave poor Hyuck all alone?” you poke fun at him.

Mark deadpans, “He’d survive on his own.”

“I mean, I’ve been here before and it’s everyone else’s first time. I’m okay riding by myself,” you push back with a frown, trying to convince Mark and yourself for that matter, “I just want to make sure everyone is having a good time.”

“I get that but–”

“We’re here!” you cut him off, stopping in front of a quick-service restaurant. You gesture to the door and the others go inside.

Donghyuck, Jeno, and Karina make their way in. You move to follow them but Mark stops you with a hand to your wrist. He hesitates, his mouth opening and closing, and you patiently wait for what he needs to express. The boy lets out a long exhale.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that riding with Hyuck is fun and all but I…” He pauses again. Mark has this habit of not finishing a full thought and you think this is one of those times. Despite that, you listen attentively. “I want you to be my ride partner today, okay?”

And again, your heart shoots to the moon. Its fuel is the adrenaline that runs through your veins as you process his words. A hint of a smile begins to peak out as Mark fuses in front of you.

“I mean, like, I’ve been to theme parks with Hyuck since we were kids, I’m not missing much with that and I just–I kinda–you know–want to experience things with you today.”

The way he confesses this, like every other thing Mark does, is adorable. You hope your forgetful brain will store this memory along with the rest of your core ones. He’s about to go off on another rant, you can tell by the small puffs of breath he takes and the redness that’s flushing his ears, so you end it before it starts.

You cup a hand over his cheek to stop him from going even further and your fingers sense his rapidly beating pulse. “Okay,” you reply softly.

That one word alone has Mark’s expression changing from an unsure one to the brightest face you’ve seen him make all morning. He rivals the sparkles on top of the castle and the bright sun that’s shining over you.

“Really?” He perks up.

“Yeah,” you giggle at his change in mood, “now let’s get some food in you, Spidey boy.”

✨ THE CASTLE

“Get out, Hyuck! Why are you like this?” Karina yells from her spot beside Jeno, clearly frustrated with your friend.

Karina and Jeno stand at the side of the castle, far enough from the crowds but close enough to still get their picture with the iconic landmark. Donghyuck is just out of frame, ready to jump in to ruin whatever adorable shot the couple is trying to take. It doesn’t really matter since you’re continuously snapping away on Karina’s phone. Knowing those two, more than one picture will turn out beautiful. Looking at them, how could they not?

“Because you’re taking too damn long and I want pictures too!”

“You already got yours!” Completely used to their bickering, you shake your head behind the camera.

She’s right. You’ve already taken everyone’s solo pictures at this picturesque spot–Karina taking the longest–and now there were requests for group or partner shots. Jeno, being the perfect Instagram boyfriend, helped take the shots of you and your girl best friend with no pointers needed. You thought you were almost done with this photoshoot but you guessed wrong.

“Not with Mark though!” Donghyuck shouts back, pulling Mark to his side.

“Yo, wait, what?” Mark squeaks.

“You got good enough shots, so move!” Donghyuck has no shame when shoving the resident couple away and dragging Mark to the exact place they stood. You shoot Karina an apologetic look, handing her phone back, right before you grab hold of Donghyuck’s device.

The younger of the duo, as affectionate as he is, has no problem hugging Mark tightly for a picture. Mark sighs but goes with it without much of a fight. You take pictures of Donghyuck hugging Mark from behind, clinging onto the older’s arm, forcing him into making a heart and standing back-to-back. As this goes on for several minutes, you endlessly snap pictures, not even looking at the screen anymore. While doing so, you miss the hushed conversation that happens at the other end of the camera.

“Why am I doing this with you?” Mark hisses in between a grin. His arm around Donghyuck tightens and the younger one almost chokes at the sudden attack. “Are we done yet?”

“Why? Is there someone else you want to take pictures with?”

“Shut up.”

“I will not,” Donghyuck whispers under his breath, wiggling out of Mark’s grip. His volume raises as he announces, “Mark, catch me!” With that, the mischievous kid jumps onto Mark’s back and the elder of the duo has no choice but to do what he says.

Mark groans, “Why are you so annoying?”

“I will continue to be annoying until you man up,” Donghyuck nuzzles his forehead into Mark’s hair with a smirk. “I could keep this going or–”

With that, Mark lets go of his friend’s thighs and Donghyuck slides down with a helpless yelp. The boy is dramatic while dropping to the ground but Mark pays little attention to the action. Instead, he smiles shyly at you.

You raise an eyebrow at the duo’s suspicious actions. “Are you guys good or can we move on now?”

“I–um, actually–” He’s stuttering over his words more than usual, a red tainting his normal skin tone. You know he’s embarrassed but you can’t figure out what’s making him feel this way. The chaotic duo is up to their usual antics of Donghyuck being irritatingly touchy and Mark slowly losing his patience with it all so there’s no visible variable in your eyes. So, what’s the difference in this situation?

“What’s up?” When he doesn’t answer right away, you take that as a sign to keep moving. You turn your body away from him, adjust the straps of your bag to feel more comfortable, and get ready to move on. The park app on your phone is open to all the current wait times and you note that Fantasyland has low numbers, determining the most logical choice for your next destination.

You open your mouth, preparing to spill out your plan to explore Fantasyland when Mark’s feeble voice breaks the silence.

You don’t quite hear him the first time, leaning towards him in hopes that will help you focus on his voice alone. The excitement around the area only increases when the park marching band makes their way to the center of the castle for their afternoon set. Mark huffs in frustration when you fail to hear him for the second time.

But as they say, the third time’s always the charm.

“Take a picture with me!” he yells when the band goes silent. The flush on his face increases tenfold and you almost coo at how flustered he is. His eyes were wide, almost begging for you to grant his request. His ears match the color of his Spider-Man plush hanging on the belt loop of his bottoms.

Wanting to tease him a little more, you say, “We already took a group picture, Marky.”

You hold back your laugh when his hand goes back to fumble with his hair. He muses it, the strands now messy, making him look even more endearing than ever.

“Yeah but–you know what I mean,” Mark’s voice drops at the end, his lips forming a pout. How desperately you want to peck his cheeks but you refrained, still scared of crossing that line. His brows furrowed. “You know what, never mind, dude, let’s go.”

Just as he began to walk away, you tugged him back into place. “I know what you meant, Spidey, I just wanted to mess with you.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he sulks and your fingers reach out to pinch his cheeks. It’s not quite a kiss but it’s close enough.

You run your fingers through his messy hair, quickly fixing it and Mark just lets you, enjoying the little touches you are so willing to give.

“Hyuckie, can you please?” Donghyuck knows exactly what you’re asking of him, taking the phone out of your hands. He sets your phone to 0.5, bends down to get a better angle, and begins to snap away. All the while, you and Mark are a bit awkwardly standing side-by-side for the pictures. Your bodies are stiff--his hand is barely around your waist while his other hand is holding up a peace sign. You copy his pose, your fingers automatically making a V.

“You guys,” Donghyuck sighs, grabbing the attention of Karina and Jeno, “at least act like you’re having fun with these pics. We’re at fucking Disneyland right now.”

Karina laughs at how hopeless the two of you are. She takes pity on you and jumps in to give directions on how to improve your poses. “Mark, if you can just tighten your grip around her waist–”

Mark gulps, his nerves at an all-time high. Your best friend underestimates his own strength as he does what he is told. It happens a little too abruptly and you’re suddenly lurching into his body. Your head lightly hits his chest and you place a hand on the spot to create a little distance. He immediately fusses over you, looking down to check if you’re okay and it turns you into a giggling mess.

“I’m fine, it’s fine,” you reassure Mark with a bright smile on your face.

Once he notices that you are nothing but smiles, the curve of Mark’s pretty mouth matches yours. It brightens his handsome face so much that it matches the glitter found at the castle tops. You take a mental picture of the face he makes, eyes and nose scrunched up with happiness, and the golden glow of the summer sun illuminating his beaming aura.

Mark shakes his head and chuckles, pulling you into a hug. You sink into his hold, your chin perching on his shoulder.

In your mind, Mark Lee is your (awkward) Prince Charming. While you stand together by the castle, you cherish every second he makes you feel like royalty. He rocks you for a couple of seconds, swaying to the song playing in his head, and then pulls away. His stare, however, never leaves yours. You don’t dare break the connection. Your eyes curve up into little crescent moons and your hands drift back down to his chest. You feel the slight heaving from his laughter and it makes you giggle even more.

“Stop laughing at me,” he says with a smile.

“Never,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him.

The two of you are so caught up in your little moment, that you forget that your friends have phones in their hands, documenting everything that just occurred.

“Oh, that one’s cute,” Karina says, snapping the two out of your shared reverie. Jeno and Donhyuck’s heads peak over her shoulders to look at the picture she’s talking about and they hum in reply. Then, she lifts up the phone to your eye level. You and Mark lean forward to take a closer look but the boy refuses to let go of you as you scroll through the selection.

Your finger swipes through what feels like thousands of photos before landing on one that catches your eye. In the photo, you’re so consumed in your laughter, lids closed happily and your dazzling smile half-covered by your hand. Mark holds you in his arms, fondly looking at you with sparkling eyes.

You stare at it a little too long, taking in the way he looks at you. You steal a glance at him and he’s wearing that same soft smile as he scans the photo. It made you wonder if your best friend always looked at you that way. You wonder if this was your first time making note of it.

You pull yourself out of it, knowing that if you ruminate on it anymore, you'll sink into a deep neverending ocean. Your finger taps the bottom of the screen and the heart fills up, adding the picture to your favorite album. You just know this is a picture that had to be included in your photo dump.

“I like this one,” you muster out, fighting the urge to make eye contact with him.

You feel a squeeze around your waist, one that lingers for a moment, and hear him whisper, “I like this one too.”

Mark says it with certainty and with a hint of longing like there’s a deeper meaning behind his words.

There is, of course, a message buried in his words. Mark likes how it’s just the two of you in the picture. He likes how it encapsulates how happy the two of you are in each other’s company. He likes it because it shows how in love with you he is. Mark especially likes it because it has you in it.

Mark Lee likes–no, loves–anything with you in it.

Mark loves you.

Point blank.

Mark loves you.

And Mark hopes that by the end of the night in this magical place, where anything can happen, he can gather enough faith and trust in himself to tell you how he truly feels.

✨ FANTASYLAND

While strolling through Fantasyland, where all things fairy tales come to life, you make a pit stop at a store filled with costumes for princes and princesses. Your friends were amazed to see that deeper into the store, there was a salon that catered especially to children. All the kids sitting in the salon chairs were beaming with excitement as they got their hair and makeup done while dressed up as their favorite characters.

Karina coos as a little princess dressed as Rapunzel passed by her. She ran her fingers through the skirt ends of the costumes, admiring all the different dresses, while the boys immediately reached for the plastic weapons and shields. You hear their dramatic noises as Donghyuck stabs Jeno with a sword. Mark’s familiar laughter bounces off the walls as the fight continues, his hand shakily recording the ridiculous exchange.

“What is this place?” Karina asks curiously, turning to you for an answer. You knew she would love this place–the girl, although people perceived her as a tough girl, loved anything that had to do with princesses.

There’s a sparkle in her eye, which only brightens when she approaches the section belonging to her favorite princess. Karina grabs hold of a pretty character headband, removing the one that’s on her head and tries on the new one. She spins to face you, silently asking if it looks good on her, and you nod enthusiastically, giving her a thumbs up.

“Welcome to the Bippity Boppity Boutique,” you reply happily. Pointing to the cast members working on their guests, you continued, “They’re called Fairy Godmothers in Training. They help the kiddos with their makeovers.”

“Have you done it before?” Mark pops up out of nowhere, a little out of breath from the play fighting he did with the other two. He must’ve joined in the little spar after taking some pictures.

“Yeah, when I was little. I was Cinderella,” you laugh, remembering how pleased you were to be in the chair. You remind yourself to look for those photos; it’s been a while since you’ve seen them. “Can’t do it now as an adult though. Sorry, Rina.”

“Then why’d you bring me here?” She pouts at that, “To torture me? That’s mean. There goes my dream of being a princess.”

Mark bites back a chuckle at her bitter response and Karina has no trouble slapping his shoulder to shut him up. You choose to ignore the childish exchange.

“Well,” you start to say, inching towards the counter where a cast member eyes you curiously. “We can’t get full makeovers but we can get pixie dusted.”

“Pixie dusted?” Mark echoes, tilting his head in confusion. Your fingers twitch and you fight the urge to pet his head.

“The fairy godmothers have wands with them and they basically sprinkle glitter on top of your head while you make a wish. It’s really cute!”

The light in Karina’s eyes glows even brighter than before. “Really? Oh my god, can I do it?!” she asks, bouncing on the heels of her feet.

“I knew you’d like it,” you giggle.

“Babe!” She calls Jeno over.

His head pops up over a display, resembling a puppy hopping out of a hole they just dug. “Yeah?”

“Get pixie dusted with me,” Karina requests, reaching out for him with her wiggling fingers.

Jeno quickly sets down the toys he was playing with, leaving a whining Donghyuck behind, and follows his girlfriend’s lead blindly.

You and Mark watch them silently, both with smiles on your faces, as the couple holds hands and closes their eyes. The worker mumbles a little spiel as she taps her wand, the glitter raining down on their heads. Your camera is at the ready, finger holding down on the burst button for this special moment, capturing Karina’s tiny squeals and Jeno’s chuckles as the pixie dust settles in their hair and on their skin.

“Anyone else?” The Fairy Godmother in Training asks politely, looking at you expectantly.

Mark nudges your side. “You gonna do it?”

“Of course. I’ll never pass up getting pixie dusted,” you say matter-of-factly, stepping forward.

“I want to do it, too,” Mark proclaims, stepping with you.

You laugh and warn him, “You wanna deal with glitter in your hair? It’s going to stay there for days.”

He shrugs, “They grant wishes, right? Maybe I need mine to come true.”

“Oh, yeah? And what wish is that, Spidey?”

He holds a slender figure to his lips. “If I tell you, then it definitely won’t come true. And I need all the help I can get with this one.”

You eye him suspiciously and when he doesn’t give it up, you sigh in defeat. Preparing yourself for the glitter, you bow your head down and close your eyes with your fingers linked together in the tightest hold. Your best friend nudges his forehead against yours and you let out a surprised giggle.

Just like Mark said he needs all the help he can get. He isn’t wishing for any regular thing. He wishes for something more precious than that–your heart.

Sure, this is most likely playing make-believe but Mark Lee wants to believe in it. Maybe this is the little bit of magic he needs. Some might say he’s too old for this sort of thing but he wants to believe in fairy godmothers. He wants to believe in the shiny powder that they call pixie dust. He wants to believe in the magic that you do.

So when the glitter pours down on him, Mark shuts his eyes tightly and grips your hands with all his might.

Mark wishes for your wish to come true,

Mark wishes for your happiness.

But most of all, Mark wishes to be yours.

Your next stop is quite the staple in the park and it’s a must-do on your list. Luckily, they all agree with you and suddenly, you are in line for the iconic teacups. For the summer, the wait isn’t too long–a mere fifteen minutes before it’s your group’s loading time. Before getting on the ride, the five of you decide to break into two groups instead of all squeezing into one tiny spice.

In their excitement, Karina and Donghyuck rush to claim a vehicle. Donghyuck lightly shoves Karina’s side when he realizes they are both aiming for the same cup, causing her to lose her balance. She groans once he hops into the pink teacup with hearts decorating the sides and scurries to grab another pink cup.

“Why are you two like this?” You shout after them, shaking your head.

“When are we not like this?” Hyuck shouts back, his arms already spread across the rim of the cup. He calls you to join him and you do, closely followed by Mark.

Once you are seated and the door to the vehicle is closed, Donghyuck’s expression changes. “We need to spin this baby as fast as we can and we need to last longer than”–he sends a playful glare towards Jeno, whose hands are already resting on the wheel–“them.”

“Oh god, not this shit again,” you roll your eyes.

The boys have an ongoing competition when it comes to spinning rides like these. Whoever spins for the longest period wins; the losers have to treat the winners to a prize of their choice. In the past, it’s been food, plushies, and anything else you can think of.

“Can we just be normal for once?”

“Bubs,” Mark laughs, “when are we ever normal?”

“Touche.”

Donghyuck dramatically drops his hands on the wheel, “Are you ready?”

There’s really no point in this competition. Although Jeno has a stronger build than you, Mark, or Donghyuck, there are only two of them in their cup as opposed to the three of you. There’s a clear winner. Despite that, you copy your mischievous friend’s actions, a smile breaking through your unamused facade. “Alright, Hyuck.”

The spiel is blasted over the speakers, the music begins, and off you all go. Laughter surrounds you as the ride begins to spin. Your hands speedily make work and giggles spill out of your mouth when your hands pile on top of Donghyuck. Your friend matches your enthusiasm, his face crinkled in concentration as he turns the wheel, his whole body moving along with the teacup. You steal a glance at Jeno and Karina; seeing them only fueled your competitiveness and motivation to win this useless contest.

Mark, on the other hand, did not add to the spinning. He just watches his best friends, phone in hand. The device captures the most candid moments of you—smile wide enough to hear your laughter through the screen, hair flying in the wind, hands either gripping the wheel or Donghyuck when the cup goes a little too fast.

Mark snaps a picture of you and Donghyuck cackling, bodies thrown over each other in the height of their fun. Even when your gorgeous smile is aimed at his best friend and not him, jealousy isn’t coursing through his veins. A warm feeling does instead—Mark just loves to see you happy.

He captures one last picture of you, your bright grin shining at him, and your hand reaching towards his camera. If someone were to play that Live Photo back, they would hear the giggles living in your voice as you call Mark’s name to join in on the fun.

This picture is the one he saves in his favorites folder and of course, in his heart.

✨ AVENGERS CAMPUS

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” you ask Mark although the answer is obvious. Ever since you got in line, the boy beside you fidgeted with anything and everything possible. When he wasn’t playing with the keychains on your bag, he messed with the drawstrings of his cargo pants. He had a hard time staying still.

“No one asked you, Bubs," Mark hisses. His voice softens a moment later when he apologizes for snapping. The fussiness he exhibits is adorable in all kinds of ways and you fight the urge to mess with his hair in the meantime. You know it would only make him feel worse.

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know,” you reassure him as the people in front of you step forward. “It’s not every day you meet your childhood hero.”

“Isn’t this–I don’t know–a bit childish of me to feel like this? I mean, it’s just a guy in a suit.”

“Hey,” you say, hating the way your best friend tried to bring himself down, “we’re here to let our inner child out. If you’re nervous or excited or whatever you’re feeling, just feel it.”

Mark sighs as the line moves again. “Right. You’re right.”

You laugh, ruffling his hair, “Aren’t I always?”

The boy groans, fingers immediately rising to fix his fringe. “Don’t mess it up, dude, it’s almost my turn.”

A soft giggle escapes your lips instead of an apology. You’re so fond of him. “You’re too cute.”

His cheeks flush with a bright red which only increases his cuteness factor. Mark, flustered as ever, opens his mouth to ask what you mean by that. His sentence is interrupted by the character attendant calling for the next person in line. Your best friend’s nerves are at an all-time high at this point and he looks to you for support.

You shake your head negatively and gesture to the phone in your hand. “This is all you, I have to take your pics!”

Mark sticks his tongue at you in retaliation before taking a deep breath. He approaches the awaiting figure with a cautiousness you’ve never seen from him. But with all due respect, Spider-Man is standing right there in front of him. If your favorite comic book and superhero character of all time stood in front of you, you’d probably react the same way.

“H-hey,” Mark stutters out. You stifle a laugh as you snap the first picture of Mark and Spider-Man shaking hands.

“Hey, man, what’s your name?” Spider-Man greets enthusiastically. He gestures to Mark’s Spider-Man shirt, “Love the shirt.”

“It’s Mark,” he manages to say, “I’m a big fan. We just went on your ride and it was so cool.” Mark gestures to the building behind them, which housed the ride. It was an interactive ride that tasked the riders to help Spider-Man save the Avengers-themed area by shooting webs with motion-tracking technology. “My arm’s kinda tired though, I don’t think I could shoot webs like you.”

His rambling comment makes Spider-Man chuckle, his voice muffled through the red mask. “Yeah, I guess slinging webs isn’t for everyone. But hey, maybe if you train more, and go on the ride a few more times, you’ll be just as good as I am. We’re always looking to recruit new members to the team. You look like you’d be a great addition.”

Mark’s eyes glow with delight as the actor continues to shower him with compliments. “Yo, wait, that’d be so cool!”

“Should I show you some poses to start off with?” Spider-Man excitedly suggests. Mark easily complies and happily follows all the instructions the superhero gives him. While doing so, they stare right into your camera and you snap several photos of each pose.

The joy radiating off of Mark’s face is enough to make your heart soar to a new height. The merriment he and your other friends exhibit as they make their way through the park is why you keep coming back. Disneyland brings everyone’s happiest self out and you will never grow tired of seeing people’s youthfulness shine through.

“Got ‘em!” you shout from your place, giving the duo a thumbs up.

You laugh as both of them return the thumbs up with a lightning-quick speed. Many people pointed out Mark’s speedy reactions, calling them his Spidey senses. Seeing Mark stand tall right next to Spider-Man himself, reacting the same way the character does, makes the term all the more fitting for your friend.

“Hey, you wanna jump in with us for a picture, too?” Spider-Man calls out to you.

“Oh!” you exclaim, not expecting that at all. Your sole goal was to take Mark’s picture with his hero. The thought of you joining in for a picture didn’t even cross your mind. “Sure, why not?” you grin, quickly handing the phone to the attendant on standby.

You swiftly shuffle into position, copying Spider-Man’s iconic pose, as the cast member takes a couple of shots on your phone. They prompt you to pose for the professional camera they have on hand as well and the three of you switch up your poses. The wide smile on your face is identical to Mark’s as the flash goes off. A feeling higher than contentment floods your entire being. You’re happy, incredibly so, to be in this moment with Mark and his hero.

You’re happy.

You see Mark dive right into another rambling burst with the prettiest little sparkle in his eye and you’re in love.

You’re happy and in love with Mark.

Standing by for just a second, you see Spider-Man turn to you and nod his head in acknowledgment. Wordlessly, you open your arms to ask for a hug and the character accepts. “Thank you for making my Spidey’s day,” you whisper as Spider-Man squishes you to his side. “It means a lot to us.”

The actor catches onto the nickname and comments, “He’s your hero, huh?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s my everything,” you confess under your breath and your face immediately heats up upon realizing what you said to a complete stranger.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

The moment passes so quickly, that Mark doesn’t even grasp that two of his favorite people held their own side conversation. You give Spider-Man one last wave, retreat back to the attendant who hands you your phone, and stand off to the side to swipe through the pictures. Mark stops his little rant to watch you with a slight tilt of his mouth.

“She’s a good one,” Spider-Man brings Mark out of his thoughts, “We could use a recruit like her too.”

“She’s really special,” Mark lets out a fond laugh as you happily show your friends the pictures you’ve captured. “She’s my MJ, man.”

The character beside him laughs, not out of ridicule, but because of the similarities the two of you share. “Does she know that?”

“Nah,” Mark’s hair ruffles with the breeze as he shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Better let her know soon then,” he pats Mark on the back, gently pushing him in your direction. “And don’t let her go once you have her,” his hero adds as an afterthought.

Mark turns back to give Spider-Man one last smile, “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Mark Lee doesn’t have you in the way that he wants to, at least not yet, but once he does, there is no way he is letting you out of his sight. He may be the one who carries the heroic nickname but you are the one who has caught him in your web of love. Wherever you go, you have his whole heart.

You are his whole heart.

How can Mark Lee ever live without his whole heart?

✨ CARSLAND / SH-BOOM

“Hurry up, hurry up!” you call to your exhausted friends, who drag their feet behind you.

“But we’re tired,” Karina whines as her steps grow heavier. She’s stolen her boyfriend’s hat to beat the heat but has little luck doing so. Jeno, noting this, turns his portable fan to face her. She wearily smiles at him, squeezing the hand conjoined with hers to thank him.

Donghyuck echoes Karina’s sentiments but you ignore their complaints altogether.

There’s no time to slow down, you think, as you make note of the time. The sun is about to set and your group still hasn’t reached the spot you want–no, need–to be in. You understand their exhaustion because you feel the same way but deep down, you know the hustling will be worth their while.

“You guys, just do what she says,” Mark comes to your defense, giving you a reassuring glance, “I mean, she hasn’t let us down this whole day. I’m sure whatever she’s rushing us for will be worth it.”

You weave and bob through the crowds with ease and your friends fall in line behind you. You pass through the entrance of Avengers Campus and lead them straight into Carsland. A mass of people are gathered at the entrance of the land and you cringe at how packed it is. But upon hearing Donghyuck gasp with excitement, you grin and bear it. In the past, your friend mentioned that Cars was one of his favorite childhood movies. Since you’ve found that out, you’ve gifted him a Lightning McQueen present every year for his birthday.

“Holy shit, bro, I’m in Radiator Springs,” Donghyuck clutches your arm, “This is the best thing ever.”

“Oh, believe me, Hyuckie, it gets even better,” you say, pulling your friend along with you. You giggle at his reactions to every little detail you point out–how everything is built to scale, that all visitors are meant to be cars, how every third blink of the traffic light is slower just like the movie–and his brown eyes widen in childlike wonder.

Once again, Mark stands back as you take care of Donghyuck. He appreciates all the thought you put into this trip–making sure you know everyone’s specific interests and adjusting the day’s itinerary to meet everyone’s wishes. Jeno wanted to get on every thrill ride possible, so you purchased the Lightning Lane express passes to guarantee he had a good time. Karina wanted to feel like a princess, so you took her to the Boutique to get pixie dusted and scheduled time in the Fantasyland area to take as many pictures as she wanted. You spent a bit of time in Avengers Campus so Mark could get the entire Spider-Man experience. And now, you’re expertly guiding Donghyuck through Radiator Springs, equally excited as your friend who’s experiencing everything for the first time.

When everyone else voiced how worn out they were throughout the long summer day, you kept the spirits up and took care of each and every one of them. You may have not outwardly mentioned how spent you were but Mark caught onto the signs. While you were busy tending to each person's wants and needs, Mark found himself taking care of you. You’ve done so much for the group, he wonders what exactly he could do in return.

“Alright, stop right here,” you stop in the middle of the land, granting the group the perfect view of the land, “and face this way.”

“Why are we stopping? Isn’t the ride right there?” Donghyuck points to the end of the area. “I thought we were heading there.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “there’s something we gotta do first.”

“What’s everyone standing around for?” Jeno asks, hugging Karina from behind.

The others take a look around to see that a large crowd has formed in this area of the park, all facing the same way. Everyone is eagerly waiting for the same thing you are, their phones propped up in the air. You take another peek at your weather app and it deems it around one minute before sunset. Perfect.

“Well, my good sir, you are about to find out,” you answer cryptically.

You squeeze Donghyuck’s hand. “You ready, Hyuck?”

“For wha–” His sentence is cut off by the area loop music increasing in volume. Everyone around you cheers as Sh-Boom by The Chords starts to blast through the speakers. “Oh my god.”

The rest of Donghyuck’s sentence is trapped between his teeth as the neon lights, starting from the furthest point of the area, begin to light up. It’s an exact replica of the movie, the lights flickering on with the beat of the old-time music. The bright lights resemble your friends’ expressions, the giddiness of experiencing this iconic moment apparent on their faces. Donghyuck is practically glowing with childlike wonder, bouncing on the balls of his feet. You snap a photo of him as he continues to take it in. Jeno sways Karina back and forth, his arms wrapped around his girlfriend’s waist and chin resting on her shoulder as she records the whole thing.

Smiling, you turn to look at Mark whose eyes are solely trained on you. His phone is in hand, aimed in your direction, and you assume he took a picture of the lit-up signs behind you. “Isn’t it so pretty?” you ask, hands gesturing to the entire area.

Mark’s gaze doesn’t falter, doesn’t leave you when he answers, “It’s the prettiest.”

A heat spreads to all parts of your face and body at his flirtatious response. You turn away from him, too embarrassed to meet his soft stare. “It’s one of my favorite times of the day. My family always came here at sunset just to watch it. It’s fun watching everyone’s reactions and seeing people dance to the music, like them”–you point to a dancing couple, the man spinning his partner and the woman laughing gleefully–“I dunno, it just makes me happy.”

“I can see why,” Mark chuckles.

Your gaze lingers on the duo and Mark spots a look of longing in your eyes. Your best friend sees a chance, one as clear as day, and with all the bravado he can muster, Mark takes it. He tugs you towards him and you gasp at the sudden movement.

“What?” you whisper.

Mark sticks out a hand for you to take and bashfully says, “Dance with me.”

“What?” you repeat in shock, eyes dropping from his face to his outstretched hand.

“You heard what I said,” your best friend chuckles, “Dance with me.”

Instead of waiting for a response from you, Mark takes your palm in his and gently places his other hand around your waist. Your breath catches in your throat, anxious eyes meeting his own, and the boy shoots you a reassuring smile. He takes the lead, guiding you through a few swing steps as you dance on the street. You’re a little unfocused through it all, your mind wandering from the warmth of his touch to his unfaltering look.

“Have you always known how to swing?” you ask as he leads you into a spin.

Mark dances with an ease you don’t expect from his clumsy self. You’re used to his harder, sharper style of dancing he exhibits when you all go out dancing–the lighter style catching you completely off-guard. It makes you fall for your best friend a little more than you already have.

He nods as he catches you in his arms before turning you around again. “Yeah, I learned from watching my parents dance. I only really danced with my mom, though. I guess I was just–” Mark coughs, shaking his head.

“Just what?” You egg him on, wanting to hear what your crush has to say.

“No, never mind, it’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” you quip.

“Nah, it’s stupid,” Mark tries to dismiss it, distracting you with another spin.

With him being the perfect leader, your sneaker-clad feet move in time with him, following wherever he goes. “Nothing you say is going to be stupid,” you add, squeezing his palm.

You know you’ve won the argument when Mark sighs. He’s so close to you now, you can feel his breath hit your face. There’s a hint of fresh spearmint, coming from the gum you offered him earlier. Any closer and your lips can press right into his, completing the romantic moment that you could only dream about.

Mark gulps nervously as you look up at him with confusion. The words come tumbling out before he can stop himself from making a fool, “I guess I was just waiting for the right partner.”

There’s more to Mark’s sweet reply than meets the eye. Once again, you burn up at the implications. You shouldn’t assume the meaning behind your crush’s words but something about the way he said it makes you believe that you are the partner he is waiting for. To be deemed worth waiting for is a girl’s deepest fantasy and your heart swells in your chest at the thought of it all.

Despite the rapid thoughts running through your head, the only thing you can spit out is a quiet, “Oh.”

Mark renders you speechless at the favorite part of the day and in your favorite place in the entire world; he pockets this as a big win. With his warm hand resting at your waist and the other clutching your calm, Mark leads you into a flurry of sequential moves. Never once does he bump into another person in the crowd, he navigates through the small space you’re granted so gracefully. Dancing with him brings you to such a natural high, you feel lighter than air.

The laughter that spills from your lips fills his heart with joy and as the song reaches its end, the arm at your waist tightens enough to usher you into a dip. As your torso lowers, his body follows your own. He keeps you in this position, his pretty brown eyes glued onto your shaking pupils. He’s so near, that your sight triangulates from his eyes down to his grinning lips. You notice the pink that tickles his skin, from his squishy cheeks to his pierced ears.

As Mark pulls you back up, you circle your arms around his neck and give him the biggest hug in existence. You whisper a light and heartfelt, “thank you,” in his ears and Mark responds by pulling you closer.

While the song that played through the speakers announced, “Life could be a dream,” Mark Lee deems that his life already is. To him, his life is a dream and that’s because you’re in it.

✨ FIREWORKS

The sun has set and your entire group is tired but the day’s not quite over yet. The five of you are amongst the throng of people seated on the asphalt, bodies splayed in all sorts of configurations. Karina and Jeno are in front of you, whispering happily as they go through all of their pictures together. Donghyuck has no problem taking a nap on the floor, using some plastic bags as his makeshift mattress and Karina’s new plushie as a pillow. Mark, on the other hand, is seated on your right and silently playing a game on his phone.

The extent of your tiredness didn’t hit until you sat on the floor, a groan leaving your mouth as you fought to find a comfortable position. The ground really isn’t the best place to sit but you have to camp out for the best view of the castle and the fireworks. You find yourself hugging your legs and resting your face on your knees to keep yourself warm. The weather is a lot cooler than it was earlier in the day and the slight breeze has you shivering.

“You okay?” Mark asks, still looking at his phone.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“You keep moving around like you’re uncomfortable or something,” Mark pauses his game and notices the goosebumps on your skin, “Bubs, are you cold?”

“Yeah, just a little bit but I’ll deal with it.” You leave out the fact that you’re tempted to buy a sweater from a gift shop, just as you do every single time you get cold in the parks. It’s an expensive tradition you need to break. Plus, there’s no more room in your closet for more cozy crewneck sweaters.

Another quiver runs through your body as the winds blow through the area. Mark frowns as you tighten the grip around your legs. He immediately shrugs off the zip-up he wore, draping it around your curled-up shoulders. The warmth of the fabric combined with the smell of his cologne hits you all at once.

“Mark, I told you I’m okay,” you pout at him as he gets up from his spot. He stops you from taking it off, his palms firm on your back. “You’re gonna get cold.”

He disagrees, pulling the hood over your head. “Nah, I run hot anyway. I don’t want you to get sick or anything so just leave it on, okay?”

“But–”

“For me?” Mark pushes. He smiles when you pout even further, knowing there’s no way you can beat him in this conversation. “That’s my girl,” he adds, a hand coming to cup the back of your neck. A sudden urge comes over him and before he even places what he's doing, Mark plants a tiny kiss on the top of your head. You feel the slight pressure of his lips between the fabric and your head is reeling the second he pulls back.

“I’ll be right back,” Mark whispers before setting off into the crowd.

You’re frozen in place, the ability to respond nonexistent in your mind. You simply watch as he fades away and then, the shyest smile breaks through. There are no clouds left in the sky but you’re officially on Cloud 9, your heart beating rapidly in your chest, and your face buried into the sleeve ends of his jacket.

True to his word, your best friend returns fifteen minutes later with a plastic bag in one hand and a hot drink in the other. Mark pulls out the coziest Disney-themes blanket you have ever seen, folds it in half, and then places it onto the floor. He motions for you to sit on it and you smile even wider. “Better?” he asks as you settle crisscross on the soft fabric.

A relieved sigh slips past your lips as the soft material rubs against your skin. “So much better.”

Mark plops himself right beside you. His bare arm presses against yours in an attempt to fit on the blanket. There’s lots of space left but you don’t mind, snuggling right up to his side. He chuckles at your action, draping his arm around your hoodie-clad shoulders to pull you closer. “Got you a hot chocolate too, passed by the cafe across from the gift shop,” your crush gently places the drink in your hands.

“You really didn’t have to,” you mutter, hiding your smile behind the drink.

“Wanted to.”

“Thanks,” you reply in between your tiny sips.

“Anything for you, Bubs.”

With his arm around you and your body cozied up to his side, the time passes quickly. You’re in your own world, your quiet conversations drowned out by the chatter of the large crowd surrounding the castle area. The cocoa is passed back and forth between his hand and yours, an indirect kiss shared each either of you takes a sip. You laugh over things that happened throughout the day, from Mark’s burnt tongue to all the hideous ride pictures your friends took while wholeheartedly enjoying themselves.

When Mark takes a big sip, you crack an unexpected joke that leaves him choking on the drink. Your roaring laughter attracts the attention of the others around you but you are so into Mark, you don’t even notice. He’s a sputtering mess, with the hot drink all over his cheeks and hands. You help him through it, one hand patting his back and the other reaching up to wipe away the liquid with his sleeve.

“You’re so silly,” you whisper fondly as your thumb rubs against his soft cheek.

“No, you just caught me off guard,” Mark replies, nuzzling into your hand. The moment feels a little too intimate, especially when his fingers reach up to connect with yours, but you don’t want it to end. It finally feels like something good is happening. It feels like the dream you’ve kept deep in your heart is coming true and you don’t want to fight it.

You pay no attention to the way your friends are staring knowingly at you like this was all meant to happen. Your eyes are solely trained on Mark and how he holds you so delicately as if you were a bubble about to burst. Mark keeps you tucked into him until the five-minute before the fireworks announcement blasts through the speakers.

Mark is the first to get up off the blanket and you hate how easily he does so. The feeling of pins and needles travel down your legs as you try to get up. You moan in pain, struggling to get up. When you finally rise from the ground, your knees buckle and you lose your balance. A little noise slips out as you stumble, your clumsiness almost leading you straight into another person. Strong hands from behind immediately fly to your hips to keep you steady and you fall right back into Mark’s sturdy chest.

His hands remain at your hips as you turn to look at him. You mumble an apology and he clutches your waist a little harder. “Who’s the silly one now, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Even as the moment ends, Mark’s hands stay in place. The only movement he makes is a minuscule tug that molds you into his chest. He hears no complaints from you, just a pleased little sigh, that signals you’re one hundred percent okay with what is happening.

The surrounding lights dim, projections on the castle come alive, and music that could only be described as magical begins to play. It’s the scene of your dreams–you are in the hold of someone you love as fireworks light up the sky. The show’s just begun and here you are, wishing you can stay in this moment forever.

Seeing as how he’s made it this far, Mark puts on his bravest face and circles his arms around your waist. You hum in approval, resting your hands right above his. He replies by tangling his digits with yours and you smile so widely, it’s brighter than the pyrotechnics shooting off above you.

The soundtrack isn’t new to you; it’s the show the park features every summertime, so you find yourself humming along to every section and transition that passes. By the time the love-themed section bleeds through the sound system and the castle glows with pinks and reds, you tell your best friend, “This is my favorite part.”

He says nothing in response, too busy admiring you instead of the show. Mark rests his chin on your shoulder, his gaze directed at the side of your face. He takes in the sight of the glow the lights cast on you, your lips curled up as you mouth each and every lyric.

It’s quite obvious that he’s staring at you. Even if you didn’t catch him from the corner of your eye, you feel Mark’s steady breath hit your neck and cheek. Your entire body radiates heat upon this realization. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to calm the hopeless romantic inside you.

You want to look at him, you really do, but you’re scared of what will follow after you meet Mark’s eyes. But when he whispers about your favorite song playing, your heart swells at his great memory, and you turn.

The tip of Mark’s nose grazes yours after your sudden movement. You’re right there, less than a breath away from him, and his eyes are filled with immense tenderness. In your years of knowing Mark Lee, you’ve never seen him look at another person the way he’s looking at you at this moment. It’s a look filled with endearment and affection, leaving your heart swelling in your chest.

You barely hear the boom of the fireworks shooting off, not when Mark’s eyes flitter down to your parted lips. He’s captivated your heart and soul, you can’t help but nudge your nose against his as you inch closer. It’s a silent signal, one he understands without further explanation. Your best friend shuts his eyes, calls upon the glittery pixie dust that sits in his hair and makes his final wish of the night. He wishes for the strength to make his next move.

Mark’s soft lips touch yours most delicately; the press is merely there, and it throws you for a loop. The kiss makes you so incredibly giddy, that you turn your head even more and your hand anchors itself to his cheek. It keeps you steady as he dives in for seconds, this one more eager than the first. With your favorite love song in the background and the fireworks booming in the distance, you are happier than ever.

You are so happy that your wide grin and little giggles cause Mark to break away for a short moment. He plants another peck amid your laughter and soon he’s chuckling too. The arms around your waist lock you in place as he burrows into the crook of your neck, placing the tiniest kiss where your pulse hammers against your skin.

Mark’s feet are on the ground but he feels like he’s flying. His heart has grown wings, allowing him to soar to new heights. He feels like he can touch every little star in the sky. Kissing you in this land of make-believe, underneath the fireworks, feels like a miracle and he fears that he will never come down again.

He’s pretty sure the gleam in your eyes mirrors his own. It’s so pretty and bright and magical–it encompasses all the emotions stirring in his chest. They start from his heart, bubble up through his neck, and the words he’s been meaning to say spill out as a crescendo booms throughout the area. “You’re my wish come true.”

Turning in his hold, you circle your arms around his neck. You draw him closer, your lips ghosting against his to say, “And you are mine,” before closing the sentence with another kiss.

You’ve always loved fairytale endings–how the prince always gets the princess at the end of the story. When he grins against your lips, you realize you’ve been in one the entire time. The story of you and Mark is more than a dream that filled your head. It’s more than something you wished upon a star for. Your story is the slowest burn that led to the greatest happy ending.

All it needed was a little faith, trust, and a whole lot of pixie dust.

TAGLIST. (tagging my gen taglist and friends that I think will be interested in it hehehe) @winwintea @johtenrecs @lavendersuh @itsapapisongo @nctsworld @hotdogct @smileysuh @suhnnyskiess @jaemdonuts @haetrack @bat-shark-repellant @bebsky

FINAL PARK ANNOUNCEMENT. Hey everyone! Long time no post. I think the last time I posted a fic was in either December or January? I'm happy to be back for a hot second. This fic was inspired by many things: Mark calling his fans "his MJ," my personal visits to Disneyland over the years, and especially the trips I've gone on with friends that I've met on this site. Hehehe. I really hope you all enjoy this rainbow of magic and fluff. Please let me know what you think of it. Your feedback keeps me going! Love always, Nikki <3

#nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct x reader #mark lee #mark imagines #mark scenarios #mark fanfic #mark fluff #mark lee x reader #mark x reader

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anika-ann · 6 months ago

Text

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - S.R.

Part 1 of 2

Type: two-shot, idiots-in-love, feel-good fic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 7,3k

Summary: It's just a bunch of Avengers and SHIELD agents who often cooperate on missions - hanging out and getting to know each other better on a camping trip. What could possibly go wrong?

A few things. A few things could and they all seem to have you at the centre. Luckily, you have a hero in shining armour to help you in the time of need.

Warnings: allusions to NSFW, minor injuries, mention of misogyny, brief reference to PTSD, language, attempt at humour, FLUFF , Steve being a menace

A/N: written for the Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Congrats @bigtreefest and thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - in this one, you shall find “why’s it…sticky?” and modified “here, you can share with me”. I hope to finish the second part in time 😁

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰 Several Agent of SHIELD characters are involved - I don't think you need any knowledge of the show to read this

The afternoon North Carolina sun warmed your skin pleasantly, even as you found yourself panting after the having climbed up the hill you. The backpack with an attached sleeping bag and a tent pack was growing heavier and heavier on your shoulders with every step, but the view and the company – most of it anyway – were certainly worth it.

Everyone seemed affected by the fresh air and exercise the Great Smokey Mountains provided, the atmosphere light and content as this was, for most, the first trip in a long time that had nothing to do with a mission.

Sure, one could argue there were some strings attached, as the ‘mission’ was to solidify relationships within the group – several Avengers and several SHIELD agents who were often outsourced for Avengers-level missions – but still: no one was shooting at you. And you wouldn’t have to write a report. That counted for something. For a lot, in fact.

Plus, the path was the goal. The destination, while set precisely according to Steve’s plan, might as well be just about anywhere.

You glanced at him as he walked by your side, smiling absently. The corners of his lips only twitched higher as he noticed you watching him, his gaze flickering to you as well.

He looked as if he was born to do this. A halo of dark blond hair around his head ruffled by the wind, sunlight painting them almost golden. The heaviest backpack of all sitting on his wide shoulders, straps around his broad chest and thin waist. Legs clad in light track pants that hugged his thighs and ass in the best way possible, a downright magnetic sight--- no.

Uh-huh, no.

No thoughts of that sort. You had forbidden yourself from that, at least for the duration of this trip, because you had known Steve would be a literal walking thirst-trap, the sheer happiness surrounding him making his glow ten times brighter. You had forbidden yourself from thinking like this, because this was not an appropriate observation to make about a colleague, a superior no less, even as everybody else probably thought along the same lines.

It didn’t matter that you wanted to throw hands at the mere idea of someone else making that observation as well. You didn’t exactly have the right to do that and it was a lost fight before it even started. Steve Rogers was simply too beautiful and essentially perfect in all his imperfections, and god knew that those imperfection had nothing to with his body. Ass included-

Gaze quickly snapping up back to his face, you found him smiling at you warmly, a soft dusting of freckles adorning his cheeks from the prolonged exposure to sun. The same phenomenon could be observed on his bare arms; a constellation of freckles, where angels had kissed their kindest, prettiest and most loyal creation; a constellation of places where you’d love to press your lips and linger, breathe in the scent of his skin and taste it.

God, he was breathtaking and all kinds of alluring. The nature around you was too, sure, the smell of pines and sandy rocks whispering of vacations and good times, but the way he-

“Whoa!” you yelped as you suddenly found yourself tumbling towards the ground, foot having slipped on a rock, you supposed.

Hands outstretched, you had no chance to break the fall, only to slow it, the burden on your back completely changing your momentum.

The second your palms as much as brushed the rocky floor, you were being held by your waist so firmly that none of your actual weight landed on the ground. You would recognize the arms holding you anywhere – just like the scent of sandal wood, musk, man and comfort, suddenly wrapping around you.

The safest place on Earth.

Steve’s arms.

Your stomach made a little flip-flop as his hands squeezed you gently and helped you up, only releasing you when his eyes found yours, silently asking if you were okay.

You responded with an embarrassed smile.

“Whoa, you okay?” Daisy rushed to your side, bless her, breaking the brief moment you had allowed yourself to bask in the sweet worry in Steve’s gaze and in the heat his body was radiating, despite the fact you could feel everyone staring at the newly nominated klutz of the group of superspies. You.

Heat of embarrassment flooded your skin under everyone’s scrutiny – and more so under the judgement in Agent Hopkinson’s glare, the jerk. Then again, you could hardly blame him for looking down on you right now.

Allegedly one of the deadliest agents known to the world; bested by a few rocks on a hiking trail and Steve Rogers’s smile.

You chuckled self-deprecatingly, quietly thanking Steve and turning to Daisy to assure her that besides your pride, nothing had been seriously wounded.

“I’m fine,” you said, scratching your forehead with a poor attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Must have missed a step, I don’t even know how…”

You did know how. You knew it precisely. You hadn’t been watching your step, too mesmerized by the beauty of your favourite Captain – and favourite person in the world. The man with the most honest, goodest, fiercest and most beautiful soul you had ever met, your closest friend.

“I do,” Agent Melinda May commented dryly, a pointed look aimed at your feet, revealing the culprit – and making you wish the Earth could swallow you, especiallysince it was her, the second in command at SHIELD – and one of the most admirable women in history of anything. And she had just seen you, an agent for both Avengers and SHIELD, a master of martial arts, to trip on nothing like a five-year-old. For the same reason too. “Your shoelaces are undone.”

“…thanks. And sorry. Go ahead. I think I can tie my shoelaces on my own,” you chuckled again, swallowing the shame even as you were among friends. Albeit some of them more reluctant than others.

“Clearly not,” Agent Hopkinson remarked, not missing the opportunity to belittle you, making you sigh as you crouched down, taking extreme care not to as much as wobble despite the heavy backpack.

Case on point, you supposed.

Having worked for SHIELD for years now, acting as the main liaison for situations where Avengers needed help, be it due to too many hostiles or the nature of the job leaning more towards spy-work that alien-invasion-work, your general experience was that tolerance and cooperation were the way. Some people were less pleasant than others, that much was true, but one should handle disagreements, various personality traits and different views on life. You certainly could; your approach to conflict, your supposedly calming presence and search for harmony in a team and the calm composure you maintained under pressure to quickly weigh your options, had even earned you your codename, Libra.

You genuinely believed tuning down an attitude for the sake of the mission was the custom, the golden rule.

And then you encountered Agent Martin Hopkinson. He was the exception. And a pain in your ass.

He got along alright with most people despite his arrogance; but you and him were a trainwreck happening in slow motion. He did not like you. Whether it was jealousy of your position, misogyny, or both, or something completely else, you wouldn’t know. But he was bitter and biting, always looking for a flaw, always making snidey comments.

You could handle that – an insult here, a mean comment there. After all, you could take a punch, a stab, a gunshot wound. You could take down men twice your size with your bare hands and just a little wit, if you tried hard enough. You had faced soldiers, rapists, murderers; Agent Hopkinson was but a small hindrance, annoyance on legs. But by god, your fists itched whenever he opened his mouth. And the feeling was mutual.

However, as a professional, you worked hard not to reciprocate his aggression, even as it only ever remained verbal; the same could not be said about him. And he didn’t care zilch about who heard him be ‘smart’ with you either, which, in turn, led to several reprimands; and on one delightful occasion, to Steve almost breaking his jaw when he heard him utter a comment about Coulson pimping out the pet agent again, clearly meaning you. The wrath Steve had showed was nothing hort of holy, and holy was the miracle that Hopkinson was still alive; the fact he barely toned down his attitude was just idiocy.

But had you mention Steve was an angel? A fiercely loyal protective friend, a gentleman, who might swear on occasion and be a little shit par excellence, but god should help anyone whose behaviour towards others offended him. He might be an angel, but was an avenging one.

A caring one too.

As soon as you stood up again, Steve was carefully cradling the backs of your hands, examining the teeny scrapes over your palms with about five droplets of blood in total, frowny gaze flickering to your knee which you hadn’t even realized you had grazed too.

“We should disinfect that.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you laughed, even as you let him examine the barely-there bleeding, knowing there was no use trying to resist. “Thank you for caring, but it’s literally just a scratch… I’ve had worse.”

He shook his head, his expression darkening a bit. “That’s not comforting and you know it. And any wound, if infected, can be dangerous – I know I don’t have to tell you that.”

You knew instantly what instance he was referring too, a small shudder running up your spine. Yet, the rational part of you argued that there was no comparison, even if the cut on your arm over a month back had not been all that deeper and wider than this.

“That was literally a poisoned blade, Steve-“

“We were about to take one more break before reaching the destination anyway,” he interrupted you, unrelenting. “Let’s head up to that clearing and we’ll rest for a bit. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“Steve-“

“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Bobbi uttered nonchalantly as she passed you, joining the others who had gone ahead already.

You sighed. Bobbi Morse – an agent with a clever sense of humour, sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude, a good friend – and she was using all of her powers against you. Wicked.

“It’s just a-“

“Captain’s orders,” she almost sing-sang, earning a grin from Daisy who only shrugged, as if to confirm her words.

You sighed, rolling your eyes; acutely not aware that Steve was still holding your hands in his and your body was heating up from inside at the prolonged contact – particularly your chest and something deep within your belly.

You looked up at him, mildly annoyed and rather amused at his insistence and protectiveness. And even though you wouldn't admit that out loud, touched.

“You’re overbearing. You’re lucky I like you,” you scolded him in a whisper.

He only grinned, his worried gaze clearing and lightning up at your feigned outrage, and squeezed your hands before letting go.

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

You bit your cheek as you nodded, reminding yourself for at least the tenth time since you had set off hiking: friends. The keyword of this trip was ‘friends’.

It was just really hard to actually remember that when Steve looked at you like that, talked like that, and you could still feel the warm imprint of his hands on yours.

Steve Rogers was a man impossible not to fall for; from almost absurd handsomeness to even more absurd goodness he lived by, from his sharp wits to effective moves, from the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled to the tenderness in his touch. His sense of humour equalled to the one of duty, his drive and determination in leading interlacing with a soul of an artist and a simple man who appreciated the most ordinary things.

You had clicked instantly; your friendship bloomed almost effortlessly, working alongside him making for many opportunities to spend time together. Despite barely having met about three months ago, the times you owed him your life for were numerous; and the few times he owed you his, even as there was no such thing as keeping score, only strengthened your bond. Moments where you thought you wouldn’t make it out. Long nights at motels or in a stake-out cars, filled with mindless chatter, profound talks and comfortable silences. His goddamn smiles alone, always feeling a little warmer, fonder, when directed at you.

The fact he had quickly slipped into a habit of calling you Lee, a nickname derived from your codename with a wordless implication of you being his refuge, with that damn smile on his plush lips, was making something in your ribcage tremble with affection.

You had fallen hard. But who wouldn’t? You were only human.

And his proximity, his friendship, his affection, they were most precious to you; no matter which form they’d have, you’d take it.

Even if it meant inappropriate thoughts and your heart racing fast enough to collapse from exhaustion when he cleaned your scraped knee and palms with such care and focus one might believe they were fatal wounds.

Your heart would tremble less if he hadn’t kneeled in front of you as he did so, but you supposed Steve Rogers was just that kind of deadly. He cradled your hands in his huge ones as if they were as fragile as butterfly wings, smiling when he was done; and grinning when you said Thank you, nurse Rogers, the words carrying both humour and respect for his late mother.

His smile resembled the sun so much you almost missed how the actual sunrays grew less and less warm. It was only a few minutes later – every one of them making you aware of the either knowing or incredulous looks following yours or Steve’s every move, almost enough to make you self-conscious when snacking – when you realized you were getting cold.

The solution was easy; and despite how effective it would have been in chasing away the cold and lifting your spirits, it did not involve hugging Steve. Instead, you dived your hand down your backpack through the layer of snacks and other small necessities towards your clothes for the occasion.

And your hand reached something it most definitely shouldn’t have.

“What the-“ you murmured, still acutely aware of all the gazes on you, now joined by Steve’s. “Why is it… sticky?”

Puzzled and horrified – and suspicious, because Hopkinson might have never played a prank on you, but lines always had to be crossed for the first time someday – you threw out the things from the top, pulling out what was normally one of your favourite sweatshirts.

Fairly soaked in a rusty-red oily substance that now resided in your luggage.

Not that it hadn’t been there before – but before, it was safely stored in a Tupperware container along with the thin marinated steaks you had been tasked to carry for the team’s first dinner above fire, Hunter carrying the grate.

“What is it?” Bobbi asked, frowning at the poor article of clothing you had intended to wear.

You didn’t have to sniff it to answer; mostly because the scent of spices was strong enough to answer for you.

“It’s the… marinade from our dinner,” you informed her with a grimace, a small whine escaping you as you went to inspect the rest of your clothes with dread and irritation rising. Because you already knew that the sweatshirt would not be the only thing having been hit. There had been enough to marinade to drown Steve and Bucky in – that was why you had triple-checked it was secured when you had pulled the straw for carrying it in your backpack. “How is that even possible?! I swear I checked it at least five times! I used rubber bands and a plastic bag and- ugh.”

“It probably gave out with all the moving around,” Natasha said, compassion evident in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed.

And it was. You were only just beginning to feel the mountains part of your destination. You weren’t even shivering – and god knew you had been exposed to much worse conditions with fewer clothing. It wasn’t even raining. You had been through much worse – this was but an inconvenience.

Kinda like Hopkinson himself.

Your gaze flickered to him as he himself put on a thin hoodie, your gaze narrowing in subtle suspicion; but there was no way. He almost looked as if he was pitying you. Genuinely. Though not enough to share his clothes; not that you’d accept if he had offered. But that was beside the point. The point was he probably wasn’t to be blamed for your current misery. Not where marinating your clothes was concerned anyway.

It was probably all on you. It seemed your Tupperware skills still needed some work. Goddamnit.

“It is fine,” you spoke to yourself more than anyone else. “I’ll walk the cold off and then stay close to the fire-“

Your heart skipped a beat as you felt a presence by your side, a large navy-blue hoodie entering your sight; it was as if talking about your potential inconvenience summoned him.

An angel by your shoulder.

With a soft frown and a welcoming smile, he set the hoodie next to you as your hands still held onto your tainted clothes.

“Hey… here, you can have mine.”

You opened your mouth to protest, the words dying in your throat when you met Steve’s gaze. The golden hour had arrived, highlighting the freckles and the god-like warm glow of his smile. Your fingers reflexively twitched in the fabric of the t-shirt in your hands as the urge to run them through Steve’s hair instead hit you like a sledgehammer.

Friends, you reminded yourself again. FRIENDS.

He was offering a friendly gesture. It was no different than borrowing boxing wraps from Hunter for training if yours had torn, borrowing a dress from Natasha because none of yours fit the theme of a party, or borrowing heels from Daisy because they matched better than anything you owned. There was nothing special about this and no one would think twice.

Yet, it was a gesture you had to turn down, no matter how gentlemanly it was – no matter how at home you knew you’d feel in that hoodie. The idea alone was tickling along the most sensitive parts of your body and for that alone you should refuse.

“Thank you, Steve… but that wouldn’t be fair,” you said. “You shouldn’t be cold because of me.”

Plus, I know this one is your favourite, you wanted to say, but bit your tongue, aware that the scene was already out-of-chart intimate as it was. It certainly felt like it.

“I won’t. You know I run pretty hot…”

You are hot, you wanted to say – but a little choked noise from Hopkinson and Bucky had you quickly set your mind straight.

Until Steve pulled out the big guns – rather literally. Long fingers wrapped around your bare forearm, goosebumps erupting on your skin despite the nearly burning sensation, breath catching. It did not help the situation that something you didn’t dare to identify for the sake of your sanity flashed in Steve’s eyes when he touched you.

Friends. Friends, friends, FRIENDS-

“See. All warm. And it will stay that way even without a hoodie. Take it. Please,” he added. And soon, a content smile appeared on his face, because he recognized the signs of you yielding.

A girl had to pick her battles. Arguing with Steve was not one of those which you had no chance at winning – it would be like trying to move a ton-worth block of concrete with bare hands. You had enough experience with that – fighting with Steve on the matter of your comfort, not moving concrete – and there was no winning. He respected your choices, yes, but he’d fastened straps of a parachute on you himself if it came to it, even if it meant he wouldn’t have one himself; he was a sweet hypocrite like that.

“Fine,” you sighed, smiling just a bit. “If you insist… thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

You would swear you heard at least three people mutter under their breath: I bet.

Thoroughly warm and comfortable despite the numerous miles in your feet and tens of pounds on your back, you trailed behind Hunter and Bobbi, who were fighting animatedly – and most lovingly – about which European brand beer was the finest. For a couple who had been married and divorced, once talking about each other in not so nice terms including Bobbi being called ‘a demonic hell-beast’, they sure appeared very much in love – but every bit professional when it counted. They were lucky to find each other again, that was for sure. It made one long for a love like that; explosive as they were, you wouldn’t shy away from calling them soulmates. They belonged with each other; they were lucky to have find one another.

As you tugged at the sleeves of the hoodie you were wearing, long to easily hide your palms, you wondered if you were being lucky or cursed on this trip so far. Tripping. Spilling sauce onto your clothes. Withstanding Hopkinson’s moody glares of which exactly one resembled a shred of compassion and only lasted until you put on the hoodie of the Captain America himself. And yet, surrounded by colleagues, friends and Steve, on a trip with a sun that had slowly begun its descent at your back, you had to count your blessings.

Lucky. You were luckier than most.

Daisy had joined you for a bit, walking side by side with you when the path allowed it, meaningless chatter altering with meaningful; a natural course of conversation between close friends who were together for a few hours with nothing else to do but take it step by step, literally, admire the nature and talk.

Steve had promised it would only take less than an hour and you’d make it to where you were supposed to set camp. He had fallen behind, walking with Natasha and Bucky, who, judging by his tone and Steve’s groans, roasted the team captain about something with Natasha’s occasional but effective help.

Now, about what you assumed was twenty to thirty minutes later, the last challenge of today’s journey awaited you; fording a river.

A rather cold river.

The weather was nice, sure, and you were having a good time; but the idea of warding through water reaching your thighs was not all that alluring.

But of course, Steve Rogers was the man with a plan.

Walking down the river and finding a relatively shallow section of the river with several large rocks, all you had to do was to step from one slightly slippery stone to another without face-planting or letting your heavy backpacks break your balance. Easy – or it should be for a group of athletic agents.

Yet, Bucky and Steve were discarding their shoes in a blink, rolling up their pant legs, ready to dip in and get wet so other wouldn’t.

Your heart skipped a startled beat, a lump growing in your throat, as you watched Steve regard his friend, already knee-deep in water, with the tinniest bit of hesitance.

Cold water. Cold water.

In the early June, the water couldn’t be colder than fifty, fifty-five degrees; but if the supersoldiers planned to stand there until all of you crossed the not-so-unsignificant distance while they’d assist, they would certainly feel it. And while history taught you both Steve and Bucky could clearly take the cold better than anyone, the idea of being the person knee-deep in the water was anything but pleasant.

Especially to someone who had already laid his life by diving a plane into icy waters of the North Atlantic.

Without a second thought, you left the line forming at the best crossing point, walking down the bank to crouch at Steve’s side.

He noticed your presence in an instant, snapping his head to you, an all-easy smile forming on his lips. As if you couldn’t see the brief flash of anxiety before he hid it. As if you couldn’t see his carotid pulsing wildly. As if he, the supposedly fearless man to all, could hide the one flicker of apprehension he allowed himself to feel from you.

“Are you sure about this, Steve?” you asked, voice as low as possible as not to attract attention.

As you met his gaze, understanding flashed in his eye. A silent conversation; he knew why you came to him, where your concern came from.

And in a very Steve Rogers fashion, he ignored it. He just gulped and squared his shoulders and rose to his feet, suddenly towering over you again.

“Of course I am.” Of course he was. “It will be much easier than all of us fording through.”

You sighed, looking at him pointedly as you swallowed your irritation – and worry. That was not what you were questioning and he knew it. And you weren’t questioning his dedication or his ability to help either; just the decision to put himself through discomfort anyone else could have taken upon themselves, when it meant more hardship for him than others.

“I know. It just… it can be literally anyone else-- hell, I can do it.”

You could. You’d warm up after soon enough, judging by the terrain awaiting you. It was a better option that him going in there to freeze his toes off at and bring him back to--

To prove your point, you reached for the backpack buckles on your belly to take it off.

Steve’s hand was on your forearm stopping you before you could undo a single one, squeezing.

As your head snapped back to his face, there was a little crack through the mask he had put on, showing just the slightest hint of anxiety now. But there was a fresh wave of warmth in his expression too; gratitude lit up the blue of his irises the way the sun lit up the summer skies, dreamy and sweet.

His thumb pressed into your forearm gently, stroking, reassuring. You felt the tension melt from your shoulders faster than a butter on the stove, something stirring deep inside your bones as you took a shaky inhale.

“Thank you, Lee, but I’ll be fine,” he said, one of his eyebrows arching, a little quirk to his lips. “And we don’t want to undo the work the hoodie has done on you.”

Right. The hoodie. His hoodie. Yes, you were very much aware you were still wearing it, while he remained in a t-shirt that was at least one size too small for him and did all things delightful for his already insanely impressive physique.

Not the point.

You opened you mouth to argue, only to be interrupted by a shout from behind you.

“Oi, punk! You gonna help or just stand there enjoying the view?”

As you both turned to Bucky, you could see him helping Agent May cross the river, already halfway through.

Steve let go of your forearm, smiling at you once more.

“At least take the hoodie,” you insisted. He shook his head, your mouth opening on empty, deeming your effort fruitless.

“I have a jacket if I want… don’t need the hoodie,” he assured you, his grin earning a glint of danger that made your stomach flip-flop funnily, the heat in your abdomen burning hotter. “Plus, it looks much better on you.”

With that, he set off, jogging towards the water, and leaving you stand there with cheeks exploding with heat.

Damn you, Steven Grant.

Shaking your head, you returned to the line, anxiously watching Steve climb down into water, a shudder running down his spine.

“Come on. I saved you a spot,” Daisy said, gesturing for you to stand in front of her, earning an eyeroll from Hopkinson who stood behind her. “Everything okay with you and Steve?”

The phrasing had your head snap up with a startle, heart speeding up.

“What?”

What did she mean by that?! You and Steve?

No. There was you. There was Steve. Two separate entities. Friends.

Checking up on each other. Wearing each other’s clothes. Typical friends.

You relaxed when all you found in Daisy’s gaze was genuine care and curiosity, no trace of implying anything. Right.

You smiled back. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Hunter and Bobbi followed after May; then it was your turn. The sight of the river, while beautiful, got a little less pleasant as you stepped on the first stone, testing just how slippery the surface was. It wasn’t awful – you could handle that, even as you felt the extra load on your back disturbing your balance.

But hey – the worst that could happen was you taking a cold bath. Just another inconvenience, right?

Yet, you didn’t have to worry. You didn’t even make it to the second large stone when a familiar pair of warm hands wrapped around yours, offering a gentle but firm support.

You met Steve’s reassuring gaze, a message without words: I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.

You send one back, squeezing his hands: I know. You makeme feel safe. You okay?

A tiny nod on his part and then you were on your way, careful taking step after step, always testing the surface first, making sure your every move was secure before shifting your weight. From one to another, you made it halfway to the deepest part of the crossing without any issue, actually enjoying the little adventure – which had obviously nothing to do with Steve’s touch, because you were not at all disappointed to see Bucky heading back from the other side of the river where he had left Bobbi to take you off of Steve’s hands. Not at all.

You were just stepping on the next stone when you felt a sudden drop in weight on your shoulders and back, an embarrassing yelp erupting from your throat as you scrambled for balance.

A fleeing thought of this trip being cursed for you indeed flashed through your mind as you braced yourself for the impact into cold water despite still trying not to have it come to that.

And it didn’t.

A splash sounded next to you, a few drops cooling your ankle, but that was it; you stood tall and firm on the irregularly-shaped stone, a hot vice of a grip on your hips, your hands having found purchase on just as hot and solid surface nearby.

Steve’s hands securely holding your hips.

Your hands on his shoulders.

Attentive blue eyes looking up at yours to assure both you and himself that you were okay.

Your face heated up, but the rest of your body was set on fire; indecent images of a wholly different situation with Steve’s hands having a steel-like grip on your hips and his eyes boring into yours flooded your mind, a wildfire of visceral need spreading through every single cell of your body and lightning it up. Steve was all about touch. Steve was all about eye-contact. You knew with absolute certainty that he’d never once let his gaze wander from your face when he’d sheathed himself inside you, feasting his eyes, because he lived for capturing images of beauty and he was a giver, the pleasure of people he loved being his own--- and you wouldn’t dare to look away. Your eyes might flutter shut at the sensation of utter-

Forcing yourself to snap back into present – into reality –, looking everywhere but at Steve as your whole body burned, a floating object caught your eye behind Steve’s back. A dark prolonged object, neatly packed, carried away by the stream.

Your tent. The thing that had fallen into water and nearly knocked you off balance was your tent, slowly sinking lower and lower as it slowed down its path down the river.

Great. Really great.

You were fucked.

How did it even-

“I got it!” Bucky hollered, changing course, heading to retrieve what was supposed to be the roof over your head for the next three days.

He’d get it; you weren’t worried. It was fine.

And the tent would be fine too. It was in the waterproof case. It would--- it would be absolutely soaked, because it was sinking. The entirety of the tent had gone under water, including the protective layer that was meant to save you from rain should it come to it.

There was no cloud on the sky but you had a feeling there’d be water dripping on you all night anyway.

How could it have fallen off? You had secured it with the buckled straps to the bottom of your fairly new backpack, checking repeatedly – every time before you put the backpack on again – that it held.

Then again, maybe you hadn’t done that after the fiasco – and the lovely result of it – with your marinated clothes. So you might be cursed, but by your own fault, really-

A squeeze to your hips brought your attention back to Steve, making you realize you were still standing in the middle of the river, stalling.

“I’m sorry, moving on, moving on,” you babbled, only to have him still your movements, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“You okay?”

Funny you should ask.

“Are you?”

You reciprocated the scrutiny; eyes roaming his handsome features, you searched for any signs of discomfort – not from having to hold you, but from still soaking his legs in the cold water. All you found was a reassuring smile; and yet, you couldn’t but brush your thumb inconspicuously over Steve’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort, incidentally along the hem of his t-shirt. An emotion flashed in his irises, eyes darkening a fraction, the grip on your flesh turning almost bruising before he began to release it, taking one of your hands again and then the other. You licked your lips – and you’d swear Steve’s gaze flickered to your mouth at that – standing up straighter.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky dropping your tent on the bank of the river.

“Thank you, Bucky!”

“No problem, dollface. Get moving though, my old knees aren’t built for this cold anymore,” he said, causing you to glare at Steve accusingly.

He had lied.

Of course he had fucking lied.

And he had the audacity to grin when you looked at him with accusatory and genuinely worried eyes.

“Let’s get you to the other side, shall we?”

“I packed your favourite snack, but I just decided I’m gonna eat it alone,” you threatened your vengeance for him for not being honest.

Steve feigned hurt so well you might as well believe it; but the hold on your hands remained gentle and secure as he helped you continue the path. “That’s cold, Lee.”

The corners of your lips quirked up.

“I know it’s cold. Now was it so hard to admit it?” you questioned as you beckoned to the water – causing Bucky to chuckle and Steve to deadpan when he instantly realized your trickery.

“You should be around more often, dollface,” Bucky said, approaching you and taking up on Steve’s task.

Steve just grunted and made his way to help Daisy. You felt your face heat up further at Bucky’s remark, grateful no one else could hear the exchange.

…were you though?

“I’ll take your words for it… and Steve?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, clearly not really offended. “Thank you for catching me.”

His smile, no matter how small, said it all and felt like the softest blanket to wrap around you on a cold winter morning; I’ll always catch you.

Always.

Just as you had expected, once you all made it through the river, you reached the camp spot in no time; and just as you had expected, your tent was a lost cause. You could build it, hoping it would dry out overnight at least bit, but actually sleeping in it was out of question unless you wanted to wake up soaked up and sneezing.

In a brief moment of self-pity you granted yourself, you planted your butt on the ground, laying the drenched parts of your tent next to you, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it as you stared at the traitorous pieces of equipment, including the buckles that had been meant to hold the package to the backpack but had given out.

While everyone busied themselves with unpacking their temporary shelters as well – Natasha with Bucky, Bobbi with Hunter, May, Daisy and Hopkinson each on their own in the lightest and therefore smallest tents possible, Bobbi took note of your state, smiling compassionately.

“Are you okay? The water really did a number on that thing, huh?”

You reciprocated her smile wryly, no less grateful for her care.

“Yeah… But you know what? I win. Sleeping outside? I can stargaze. I’ll be fine,” you said, shrugging and rising to your feet to get to work. You could build the tent to have it dry out at least and wash your clothes in the lake you had settled at. “I’m just… gonna sleep by the fire under the open skies, in… borrowed, non-marinated clothes and with no sleeping bag, because with my luck, it’s probably full of bugs or itching powder or something. It’s fine. God knows I slept in conditions a lot worse than that.”

And wasn’t that the truth. You had slept in much better conditions too, but that was beside the point. You tried to summon the memories of horrible nights spent in damp clothes, freezing, teeth clattering so hard the sound made it impossible to fall asleep; unbearable heat, loud noises, even just annoying persistent chatter. Sleeping under the open skies was practically a blessing in comparison. A dream.

And you did not want to remember nights that had been very different, because that would only make you miserable at your predicament.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” Steve called out lowly, placing another hook in the ground, using his foot to step on it and dig it deeper. “Not when the solution is obvious.”

Your heart skipping a beat at the obvious solution, you barely had time to breathe in to respond when someone else did – in an extremely irritated manner.

“Seriously?! What, you gonna lend her your tent too?” Hopkinson spat, rising from where he had been crouching by his tent. “Maybe even keep her warm through the-“

Steve lunged his direction so fast you didn’t even have time to be offended by the implication.

But Bucky, the supersoldier he was, was much faster; his metal arm stopped Steve in his tracks, palm pressing against Steve’s chest before he could make the almost-breaking-Hopkinson’s-arm a pleasant memory for the man.

Still, Hopkinson had enough wit to shut up and step back hastily, raising his hands defensively. His face turned white as a sheet of paper; good. He had some brain left then, it seemed. How he had survived for so long you had no idea.

Gulping – and shamelessly satisfied at the fear in Hopkinson’s eyes, because Jesus he did not just say that, even as you had thought about exactly the same – you turned your gaze back to Steve and Bucky.

And something in your core exploded hot, a tug so violent and visceral it was almost painful.

If Steve had looked at Hopkinson like he could break his arm all those weeks back when he had made his stupid comment, now he looked like he could break every single bone in his body, snap the guy in half and enjoy it. And he’d enjoy doing it for you. To defend you.

Steve’s smile was always a beautiful sight and so was the softness he could look at you with at times; but the rage in his face now, the fire in his eyes, on your behalf, were nothing short of breathtaking.

Avenging angel indeed.

He might not be carrying a flaming sword, nor had his shield on his arm, but that made him no less menacing, no less divine; and no less beautiful.

“Do we have a problem, Agent Hopkinson?” Bucky asked calmly, despite the clear effort with which he was holding Steve back still, even as Steve visibly didn’t move a muscle.

You were barely moving at all too; your chest was heaving, the rest of your body strung tight with effort not to let show just how affected you were by Steve’s near literal white-knighting.

“No, sir,” Hopkinson saluted, nodding stiffly, before he scrambled to finish building his tent.

“Good.”

Few seconds of deafening silence was only interrupted by the scrape of shoes against ground as the camp slowly came back to life again. Bucky shot Steve a look before he let his metal arm down, watching Steve avert his still flaming gaze from Hopkinson with shoulders remaining squared; and so alluringly wide you just wanted to run your hands over them, just as breathless at the sensation as you were now-

“I mean, makes sense you’d share,” Daisy broke the silence, everyone visibly relaxing. “It looks like your tent is pretty big, eh?”

Your eyes went wide.

Loud cough erupted from Hunter’s direction as he spitted the water he had been drinking; Bobbi patted his shoulders, amusement clear on her face. Bucky’s face twisted in a questionable grimace; Natasha pursed her lips, seemingly one second from making a comment. May bit back a smirk; Hopkinson was only showing his back, but he clearly froze in his movements.

Steve just looked shocked – shocked enough to snap from the anger that had overtook him on your behalf.

You would think it would take Daisy a few seconds to realize how she had worded her statement, accidentally referring to a figurative ‘tent’ men grew in certain situations – but judging by her seemingly innocent smile and the sparkle in her eye, she knew exactly what she had implied. And she had done so on purpose and with delight.

She was right, however. Steve’s temporary dwelling was probably the biggest one at your site and it even included a vestibule, where all the equipment which was meant for everyone was to be stored. His tent had the most space for the reason he could put his backpack to the vestibule alone.

Steve cleared his throat, taking a few steps to you, a relaxed smile having found way back to his face.

“…are you comfortable with sharing a tent with me?”

You reciprocated his smile, shrugging, even as you had to work hard to swallow your amusement at Daisy’s comment. One that was very much on point.

Yes. You were very comfortable sharing a tent with him indeed. More than, actually, but not everyone needed to know that; and you could feel several knowing gazes on you as you answered as levelled as possibly.

“I mean… we have shared a room before for a mission. I’m fine… are you? Comfortable with that, that is?” you asked, perfectly polite, considerate and friendly, even as your heart was racing in your ribcage.

There was no reason for the racing heart though. Because this was okay for friends to do. Absolutely. If you having shared the room sometimes included sharing a bed, which had naturally resulted in cuddling, body heat searching body heat, no one needed to know – especially not Agent Asshole Hopkinson. What happened in a motel room stayed in a motel room. Always.

A cute crinkle appeared in Steve’s eye as he gave the answer you already knew.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Of course, it’s fine.”

More than, whispered his gaze, so you averted it and busied yourself with gathering the wet parts of your tent, clearing your throat.

“Good… that’s good. Thanks. I really appreciate it, Steve.”

“Any time, Lee.”

You could feel his gaze on you, the warmth of his smile like a soft blanket on your back. It was going to be a long, long night.

Part 2

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