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rafescvntyclubgf · 6 hours ago

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𝓕𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂

🇱🇴🇸🇹 🇹🇮🇲🇪

��𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚉𝚘𝚎𝚢

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛; 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

cw | smut, swearing, pet names, unprotected p in v, fingering, cum tasting, oral (female receiving), heavy angst, reader gets hit by a car

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You adjust the weight of your shopping bags, looping them higher up on your arm as you step out of the bookstore. The crisp February air nips at your cheeks, but the warmth of the two coffee cups in your hands makes it bearable. You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, voice light with amusement.

“I still don’t get why you made me leave the bookstore,” you sigh.

Rafe chuckles on the other end of the line, the sound deep and familiar. “Because we got plans, princess—you’d still be in there if I let you.”

You roll your eyes as a smile slips across your lips. “Not true. I would’ve left eventually. Maybe.”

“Mhmm… Yeah, sure.”

You stroll carefully on the busy street, walking with the flow of traffic, getting in their last-minute Valentine’s Day shopping. “You almost done with your errand, baby?” You ask, shifting your bags again.

“Mhmm… Walkin’ toward you, sweetheart.”

“I got you your favorite,” you smile as you lift his coffee slightly, watching as he smiles.

“My girl. Thank you—” You barely register the car driving through the alley before the force slams into your side. The world tilts violently as your feet lift off the ground, coffee cups slipping from her grasp. You hit the pavement hard, pain jolting through your body. Your phone skids across the sidewalk, Rafe’s voice cuts off, and everything goes dark.

Your eyes flutter open, a steady ring sounding in your ears. People gather around you, rushing to see if you're okay and what’s happened.

“Oh my God—Oh my God, baby?” You blink up at a man crouching beside you, his face pale, hands trembling as his breathing comes out fast and uneven. You groan, wincing as you push yourself up onto your elbows, feeling your pulse bang in your head.

“I—I didn’t see her, man,” the guy panics, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, she-she-she fucking came outta nowhere—”

“Blame her again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” the man beside you snarls.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, his eyes returning to yours.

“Are you sure?” He asks anxiously, as his big hands hover over your body like he’s scared you’ll break. “Keep your eyes on me, alright?” The man asks gently as he strokes your cheek. His blue eyes are wide with panic, his strong jaw tight, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Who are you?”

His blood drains from his face completely as the words push through your quivering lips, stabbing him in the heart. His lips parted, but for a moment, no words came out.

“Baby, it’s me. It’s Rafe—” He whispers weakly.

Rafe? He looks down at you perplexed–a look in his worried eyes telling you his name should mean something to you. His voice is reassuring, like he’s hoping it’ll bring you a wave of clarity, but it doesn’t… It’s just a name.

“What’s happening?” You ask as you try your best to hold back tears.

“Hey, hey, easy,” he says quickly, his hand cupping your cheek, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb. “Just stay still, okay? The ambulance is coming.”

Your pulse thunders in your ears as you look at him—really look at him. His face twists in worry, his brows drawn together like this moment is doing nothing short of tearing him apart. But you don’t know him or how you got here…

You squeeze your eyes shut, panic creeping up in your throat, making it difficult to breathe. “I don’t understand.”

Rafe swallows hard, his grip slightly tightening. “It’s okay,” he says, though his voice wavers, trying to assure you both in one breath. “You—You… Uh,” he struggles before clearing his throat. “You hit your head on the ground. You just need a second, okay?” You weren't sure a second would matter because looking at him—this man who was holding onto you like you were his entire world—you felt nothing but empathy for a stranger. “You know me, sweetheart.”

“I don’t.”

Rafe looks away, trying to collect himself as tears pool in his eyes. “Where the hell is the ambulance, huh?” He screams, his voice breaking with sadness as he looks around. “What's taking them so long?”

Rafe’s never known fear like this… Everything that he knew to be true was gone in a moment. Your words shattered something inside him, but he refused to let go.

Rafe cups your face in his hand again, tracing his thumb over the soft skin of your cheek, trying to ground you both. “It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re okay. You’re just hurt. You hit your head—it’s just the concussion talking. You know me. You… You know me, sweetheart,” he smiles as his lips tremble.

He needed you to remember–needed you to feel what you had always felt when you looked at him. He needed the woman you were just a few short moments before, so he did the only thing he could think of doing.

He kissed you.

Rafe’s lips press against yours–soft and gentle—a silent plea for you to remember. But then he felt it: the slight hesitation, the way you tensed up, just barely, but it was enough.

He pulled back, praying he was wrong, hoping to see a sliver of clarity in your eyes, but all he saw was confusion. Rafe’s stomach twists, his hand drifting off your cheek, resting lightly on your hand instead, suddenly feeling like it didn’t belong there either.

Sirens wail in the distance as Rafe weaves his fingers in yours, holding you tight.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” he assures. His eyes stay locked on yours as they lift you into the ambulance. “I’m right behind you, okay?” The paramedics close the doors before he can say anything else–the emergency vehicle streaming down the road toward the hospital.

Rafe doesn’t waste a second, turning and running toward his car, fighting through people on the street as he digs into his pocket for his keys. He lifts them to the ignition–his whole body trembling as he turns the car over, speeding in the direction you went.

He reaches for the speaker, turning down the volume, trying his best to hold in his emotions as the song you were singing on the car ride there pours out the speakers.

His chest tightens, and his gaze locks ahead as his nose fills with the sweet smell of your favorite flowers, the large bouquet resting in the passenger’s seat.

This was supposed to be a perfect night.

Now, he’s speeding through the city, his pulse hammering, trying to convince himself that everything wasn’t falling apart. That he’d get to the hospital and everything would be fine–that that moment you needed would have come and passed.

That he would have his girl back.

He replays the kiss in his mind, over and over again, refusing to blink as he stares at the road ahead, knowing that if his eyes beat shut, the tears glimmering inside will give way.

The hospital comes into view, and the second he pulls into the parking lot, he’s out of his car, feet pounding against the asphalt as he sprints toward the entrance. The waiting room is packed; the hallways are bright and sterile.

“Ma’am,” he yells as he spots a nurse. “Y/N?” He asks with urgency.

“She’s in room 214 just down the hall,” she gestures down the way with a nod. “Follow me–”

Rafe runs past her, stumbling into the room and reaching for a full breath.

He bites his cheek as he sees you already lying in the hospital bed, tucked into a crisp white sheet. The lights are drawn low; your beautiful eyes shut.

Rafe looks down at you, seeing the little bruise blooming on your cheek with a slight gash beneath it.

His eyes flick to the sink in the corner of the room. Rafe saunters over, turning on the faucet, dampening a towel before stepping to your side. He presses it against your cheek; featherlight touches as he cleans it away.

“I got you, baby,” he whispers, his voice barely audible and laced with tears. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

Your lashes flutter open, making Rafe freeze, his beautiful eyes set on yours. You were scared, but nothing even close to how you were the first time you woke up. And even though you didn’t remember Rafe before this, you felt him.

Rafe pushes out a shaky breath as he looks down at you, brushing your hair off your face. “Hey,” he whispers.

You look at him, your lips parting, wanting desperately to say something, but nothing comes out.

Rafe gives you a soft, weak smile as he takes your hand again, brushing his thumb over the top. “You don’t have to talk. Just rest, okay? I’m not leavin’. I’ll be right here, okay?”

The room settles into a quiet rhythm—just the soft beeping of the monitors and the distant hum of hospital sounds filtering through the walls. Rafe hasn’t moved from your side.

The doctor pushes away the curtain before stepping inside, giving you both a reassuring smile. He flips through your chart, skimming your health history again. “How are you feeling?”

You exhale slowly as you look up at the doctor from your bed. “Okay. Just a little foggy; a little sore,” your voice breaks under pressure.

“You took a pretty rough hit, but your x-rays came back clear. No fractures, just bumps and bruises. That foggy feeling is coming from concussion–a mild traumatic brain injury or TBI.”

Rafe’s grip on your hands instinctively tightens. “Umm…” He asks uneasily before clearing his throat. “Is that why she can’t remember anything–”

“Yes, we’re looking at PTA or post-traumatic amnesia. Everyone handles it differently–”

“Differently?” Rafe asks. “How-How so?”

“For some patients, PTA lasts minutes—for some, months. Some things could come back in flashes, others over time. But given the nature of the injury, I’d say she has a very good chance of regaining everything.”

“You hear that, baby?” He looks down at you, his voice shattered but a little more hopeful than before. You smile and nod before looking back to the doctor.

“You just have to be patient with her; reassuring–”

“I can do that,” he answers quickly. Your heart breaks for him. At the moment, the reason he was sitting next to you is lost, but you know enough to see that he is struggling. He was scared, too. Your fingers squeeze him, giving him a small gesture of reassurance.

He looks down at you before swallowing hard, exhaling a shaky breath through a soft smile before returning to the doctor. “So, she’s gonna be okay,” he asks.

The doctor nods. “Yes. She just needs some rest, assurance, stability, and time.”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

Rafe keeps his hand on your lower back, leading you from the car up to your downtown apartment. Your eyes search around, taking in everything seemingly for the first time. It was new to both of you–the two of you moving in just weeks before.

“Any of this look familiar? He asks as he helps you out of your jacket. You shake your head ‘no’. Of course, he wants you to remember things… He wants you to feel comfortable and safe, but there was some solace in knowing you didn’t remember this as well because, for the moment, the only memory lost was him.

The apartment is beautiful, warm, and inviting–a love letter of your life together so far, picture after picture, memories that you’d eventually get back.

Rafe watches you closely as you take it all in, knowing the moment the photo was taken meant nothing, hoping for you to see how much he meant to you at that moment at least.

You follow Rafe as he moves into the kitchen, grabbing a vase off the table, taking out some older flowers, and replacing them with new ones. You smile brightly, melting his heart as he replaces them with red roses instead.

“Valentine’s Day?” You ask as you walk toward him, stepping into the kitchen. He sets the flowers back before returning to your side.

Rafe wraps his arms around you, pulling you gently against his chest, his chin resting lightly on top of your head.

“Yeah, baby.”

You both take a deep, needed breath. His cologne is rich, a warm vanilla with a hint of tobacco. You rest your head on his muscular chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Tears start to well in your eyes again.

“Hey,” he whispers, his hand tracing slow, soothing circles against your back as your fingers grip the fabric of his sweater like you need something to hold onto. “We’ll figure this out together, alright? No pressure. No rush.”

The emotion building in your chest was too much. All you could offer was a slight nod against him. Rafe presses a kiss against your hair, keeping it there momentarily.

“All you need to know is that this is your house, and I’m yours. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper shakily.

“Well,” he hums as he draws back slightly, meeting your eyes. “We can still do a few things we had planned,” he murmurs, his voice warm and gentle.

“We had plans?” You ask, hopefully.

Rafe nods as his hands run down your arms, lacing his fingers in yours before walking backward, pulling you toward the kitchen. “It’s Valentine’s Day, princess. Of course, we have plans.”

Princess… Rafe sees the way you react to it–your lips part slightly in a bashful smile, that same flicker in your eyes you had the first time he called you that. “You like that, huh?” He teases.

You giggle and bite your lip, finding yourself having to look away before looking back at the beautiful man before you–the man who wanted nothing more than for you to remember that he belonged to you.

Rafe pulls out a stool at the kitchen island, draping your shoulders in a cozy blanket before passing you a glass of water.

“Water?” You pout teasingly as he places the bottle of red wine on the counter back on the wine rack. He shakes his head and laughs before heading back toward you.

“You heard what he said, pretty,” he hums as he rests his hands on the counter, leaning in closer, making your heart race.

“You’re really taking care of me,” you smile.

“Of course I am. Not to brag or anything, but that’s kinda what I do,” he hums. “I mean, you said it yourself, sweetheart. I’m the best boyfriend ever. I'm smartest, funniest, and sexiest, for sure,” he chuckles and winks.

“Anything else?” You smile.

“Mmm… Mhmm,” he mumbles. “You’ve never loved a man before me. In fact, no men existed before me,” Rafe smiles devilishly.

You roll your eyes and smile. “Whatever you say.”

Rafe reaches under the counter, grabs a pot and a pan, and sets them on top.

“Wait—do you cook?”

Rafe bursts out laughing, looking back at you like there’s a story there. “Hell no… But you do,” he adds with a grin. “And it’s so fuckin’ good.”

“Yeah?” You smile; your love for cooking’s seared in your memory, but his reaction to your cooking’s brand new.

Rafe nods enthusiastically. “Baby, you have no idea. Your pasta? Life-changing. Your chicken parm? I swear–”

You smile against the rim of your water glass before taking a sip, listening to him rant and rave. “So,” he says playfully, “since I clearly have no skills in the kitchen, you’re gonna walk me through it.”

Your eyebrow lifts in amusement as a smile curls on your lips. “You want me to teach you how to cook?”

“Mhmm… And don’t worry, I’ll do all the actual work. You just sit there and be your gorgeous, sexy, bossy self, yeah?”

“Bossy?” You laugh as you put your hand under your chin, leaning into the counter. “I boss you around?”

Rafe smiles boyishly as he looks down at the ingredients list before him. “Don’t worry, princess, I love it,” he mumbles, his words sending a rush of warmth through your body.

“I don’t remember what I was gonna make.”

“It’s the chicken thing I like,” he answers as he sets the ingredients on the counter. “You made it for me on our first date. You said it was your specialty–”

“Chicken Cordon Bleu,” you answer with a smile.

“Mhmm,” he hums with a cheeky grin. “I mentioned that I had it before in college, and I didn’t know that it was something that didn’t come wrapped in plastic and put in the microwave, and you called me disgusting.”

Your hand covers your smile, not at all surprised with yourself. “I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” he chuckles as he sets the last ingredient on the counter. “You looked just like you did right now when you said it, so I was more focused on that,” he smiles, looking back at you in adoration.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” he smiles. Rafe pulls out the last ingredient before looking at you, waiting for instructions.

“Alright, first, you need to start the oven.”

“Start. The. Oven,” he repeats your words slowly as he walks across the kitchen to the appliance. He puts his hands on his hips, looking at the little buttons and knobs before leaning in. He presses the start button, and the oven quickly responds with a shrill beep, making him tense up. “Shit,” he chuckles. “I made it mad.”

“Temperature first, baby,” you smile. Rafe looks over his shoulder slightly before looking back at you with a smile, wondering if he heard you right.

“Push ‘start’ again?” He asks, purposefully getting the instruction wrong, hoping you’ll repeat it.

“Temperature first, baby,” you smile, seeing how much your words affect him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rafe walks back toward you, his beautiful eyes focused on yours. As he worked, Rafe kept talking, filling the kitchen with stories, little pieces of you.

“We went to Italy?” He says. “About two months ago… It was the best trip ever. You dragged me through every little café, every hole-in-the-wall restaurant. We ate so much pasta, holy shit. That bottle of wine I put away was from that trip–delicious, baby. So damn good,” he hums as he recalls the memory himself.

The smell of the food fills the kitchen, and that familiar aroma surrounds you. “And those?” You ask, gesturing to the counter at a small, white box with a bow.

“Perugina. Also from Italy. I’ve been savin’ them for Valentine’s Day,” he smiles as he cleans off the messy counter with a rag.

You untie the chocolate box ribbon, picking one up, popping it into her mouth. Rafe scoffs, scrunching his nose as his eyebrows pinch together. “Hey, you’re not gonna be hungry for my five-star meal.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, reaching into the box to grab one for Rafe before holding it to his lips. He hesitates momentarily, his soft eyes flickering between you and the chocolate before taking it between his lips. Your finger grazes the slight stubble on his jaw, your thumb dragging ever so slightly on his plump bottom lip, making his heart stumble.

“Good?” You ask, your voice laced with sensuality.

“So good,” he hums. Rafe grabs one himself, holding it up to your mouth. You take it between your lips, wrapping them around his fingers, lingering momentarily. The energy in the room shifts from light teasing to something deeper, which you could imagine would typically end with his lips on yours. The tension between you builds, and you feel a flutter in your stomach.

“Good?” He asks.

“Delicious.”

Rafe set the plates on the dining table, resting yours in front of you before taking a seat.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, nervously awaiting your reaction. “This is amazing…” You praise, watching as the tension in his shoulders fall. “So,” You say between bites, “tell me about you.”

Rafe smiles, tilting his head as he looks back at you. “What do you wanna know?”

“Anything. I feel like I should know everything, but…” You exhale, pressing your lips together before shaking her head.

“Hey, we’ve got nothing’ but time, aight? First date convo. The basics. What do you wanna know, princess?”

You nod in agreement, looking back at him as you think about what you want to ask first. “What do you do? For work?”

Rafe’s lips twitch, a bit of pride slipping into his expression. “I’m closin’ a huge deal soon. It’s been in the works for months.”

“Oh?” You ask, intrigued. “Business guy?”

“Commercial real estate, yeah.”

Your lips draw to the side as you push a glazed carrot around your plate, trying to think of something else. “And what do I do?”

Rafe scoots a little closer and smiles, resting his forearms on the table as he looks back at you proudly. “You own a restaurant.”

“I do?” You ask happily.

“Mhmm… For about two years now, I believe. A very, very successful one,” he praises you as you look back at him in wonder.

“Wow… What kind of restaurant?”

“Upscale New American Cuisine,” Rafe answered quickly. “And I still don’t know what that means. But, it’s one of the most well-known spots in Charleston.”

Your lips part slightly, a flicker of something crossing your mind. “The Social?”

Rafe’s breath catches, his heart skipping a beat. “Yeah, baby,” he answers gently.

“I’ve been thinking about that for years–since I graduated…”

“And you pulled it off,” Rafe adds.

Rafe watches you carefully, letting you sit with that realization for a moment, “That’s where we met.”

“Tell me about it.”

Rafe smiles and nods as he takes your hand in his. “Alright, princess… Umm. You were pissed at me.”

You burst out laughing again, just like you did before. Your hand covers your mouth, half-covering your smile. “Why?” You chuckle weakly. “There’s no way.”

“I swear. You didn’t know me yet, but you hated me that first night, for a while at least.”

“Why?” You ask, scrunching your nose in disbelief with yourself, especially considering how sweet he’s treating you now. It’s hard to think of another moment when you could be pissed at him, let alone hate him.

“Because I was late for my reservation,” he admits. “Like twenty… thirty minutes, maybe? I came in with a party of twelve, and you were slammed. You had given the tables away, and I shuffled in with all those people, totally expecting the table to be ready.”

“Uh oh,” you chuckle.

“Uh oh, is right… You told me to fuck off.”

“No!” You gasp.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you,” he laughs. “Nah. You told me, very professionally, that you gave my tables away and that if I wanted to eat, I would have to wait.”

“And what did you say?” You ask as you lean in a little more.

“I turned on the charm, obviously,” he answers smugly. “Charmed your panties right off you.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Mhmm… Flirted with you shamelessly,” Rafe adds. “I told you no one has ever looked this good kickin’ me out of a restaurant. And somehow, magically, ten minutes later, you had a table for twelve in the back.”

You smile and nod, looking back at Rafe as his eyes twinkle in the candlelight, looking back at you lovingly. “Everyone left, and I decided to stay for a drink, and before I could even look around for you, the prettiest woman I have ever seen in my life sat next to me. And, the rest is history.”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

Without hesitation, you curl up beside him, resting your head in his lap. Rafe takes a slow, steady breath, trying to control his emotions.

The movie plays softly in the background, but neither of you is paying attention, focusing more on each other.

Rafe tests the waters, leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead like he’s wanted to all night. The moment he pulls back, his eyes meet yours. And unlike before, when he kissed you in the street, the fear was gone.

You swallow hard, blinking up at him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you.”

Rafe looks down at you, and just like before, he’s unsure what he heard you or if it’s just some sweet dream. “Yeah?” He asks weakly.

You nod; your eyes never leaving his. “I don’t—I don’t remember everything,” you admit, her voice thick with emotion. “But I feel it, Rafe. I feel you.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens as he struggles to keep himself from falling apart completely.

“I know how much you love me,” you continue, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I can see it in how you look at me and how you’ve taken care of me all night. I’m so lucky to have you.”

Rafe’s vision blurs, but he doesn’t care, letting his tears roll down his cheeks. He turns his face into your palm, kissing the inside of her wrist before whispering, “You have no idea how much I love you, princess.” He wraps his big arms around you, pulling you in for a tight hug. He buries himself in your neck, feeling a wave of relief crash over him.

When Rafe lowers you again, you shift before he can react, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. The sudden movement widens his eyes; a surprised chuckle leaves his lips as his large hand instinctively rests on your hips.

“Well, this is unexpected,” he teases, his voice low and laced with affection.

You smile softly, scratching your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck before you lean in, letting your lips ghost over the top of yours. Rafe’s breathing matches yours, lips brushing ever so slightly. And, just when he can’t take anymore, he leans in, pressing a deep, lingering kiss on your lips.

His breath catches in his muscular chest, his grip tightening on your body as you melt into his warm embrace. Rafe’s heart pounds at the way you kiss him–no hesitation, no caution, fully. Just like the first night, you were together.

“Is this too much?” He asks gently between kisses.

“No,” you whisper. “Not at all.” Your hands rest on his stomach, drifting higher up the cozy material of his sweater, pressing against his chest, then pressing again.

You still, pulling back slightly as you meet Rafe’s eyes, his brows furrow in confusion until he realized what he had done.

Your hand rests over your mouth, your eyes wide as you beg the silent question.

Is that what I think it is?

Rafe freezes, his heart hammering in his chest as he gives you a slight nod. “Can I see it?” You whisper.

He exhales slowly, his lips twitching into a nervous and excited smile. “I can never say ‘no’ to you, princess.”

“Okay,” you answer as your eyes shimmer with tears.

Then, in one swift motion, Rafe lifts you to your feet, standing there before dropping to one knee, pulling out the box you felt in his breast pocket.

“I’m askin’ you again. But, if I’m showing you, I’m still gonna do this right,” he whispers, his voice low and thick with love.

Tears well in both of your eyes as you stare at each other, caught in a moment that’s bigger than all of the lost memories.

Rafe swallows hard, staring up at you from his knee with the engagement ring resting in the open box in his palm.

His heart pounded so fiercely he could feel it in his throat, his hands trembling slightly—not out of fear, but because this moment, you had always been the most important thing in his life.

He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking. “Sweetheart, I know things are complicated right now. And if I’m being honest, yeah—a part of me is sad that you don’t remember all the beautiful memories we’ve made. Because, God, baby, there are so many,” his voice breaks as he pushes out the last few words.

“If I’m bein’ completely honest, I would have proposed to you the first night I met you.” A soft, choked laugh escapes him, and he tilts his head, looking at you with the same love he always has.

“The second you rolled those pretty little eyes at me at your restaurant, I knew you were it for me.” You lift your arm, wiping your eyes along the sleeve of your sweater.

Rafe’s expression softens, even more, his free hand reaching for yours. He rubs his thumb over her knuckles and smiles.

“I love you,” he murmurs, looking up at you like you’re the only thing in the world. “I’ve loved you through every version of us—through every moment, every fight, every laugh. And I’ll love you through this,” Rafe promises. “I’ll love you while we figure it all out, while we rebuild every memory you lost, while you fall for me again—which, by the way, is inevitable because I’m incredibly charming.”

Your cheeks burn from your smile, and your eyes shut slightly, causing the tears to tumble down your cheeks.

“So, what do you say, princess? Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you whisper without hesitation. Rafe barely lets you finish before he slips the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking slightly.

The second it’s in place, he surges to his feet, cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you deep and desperate, filled with so much love it nearly steals your breath.

“I love you,” you whisper as your fingers trace the back of his neck.

Rafe grins, pulling you back in again, whispering a breathless ‘I love you too’.

Just like before, you move on instinct, jumping into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his trim waist as your body presses against Rafe’s, kissing him just like you have countless times before. And even if you couldn't remember all those beautiful moments just yet, your body knew him.

Rafe’s big hands grip your thighs, holding you tight. "We should go to bed,” you whisper through a soft smile.

Rafe chuckles, still breathless, his lips grazing your cheek. "You need to relax, princess."

"I am relaxed,” you murmur, nuzzling against your fiancé’s neck. "Please, baby. You said you can never say ‘no’ to me…”

He groans softly at your words, tightening his hold on you as he searches for your face.

"Okay," he whispered, voice thick and hungry. "But I'm takin’ care of you… Princess treatment. You're not doin’ shit but cummin’, alright?” He asks.

You nod, fingers threading through his hair. "I want you."

His chest ached at how you said it, like even though your memories were still scattered, you knew he was the one person who would always be there.

Rafe carries you toward the bedroom, your lips meeting again and again, slow and deep, each kiss stealing a little more of the space between you.

He works off his sweater and shirt between kisses, and you undo his belt and slacks. Your hands fall down his toned skin as your breathing grows heavier, smiling against his lips.

Rafe follows your focus, your emerald-cut diamond glistening in the low light. “I’m gonna take care of you, alright. Now… Always. Okay?” He asks.

“I know you will,” you whisper, making him smile against your lips.

Rafe carefully takes off your sweater, quickly raising his hands to caress your curves. He smiles as he takes in the red lace.

“This is new,” he whispers as his thumb brushes against the delicate material, making your nipple press against the fabric, whimpering at the subtle down.

Rafe reaches down, hooking his finger under the band of your leggings, looking up at you, silently asking for consent. You look at him and smile, giving him a slight nod. He pulls them down to your feet, kissing higher and higher.

“These are new, too,” he hums as he slips his finger under the band of your matching panties. The set is no doubt purchased for the man standing in front of you.

He reaches behind your back, kissing your shoulder as he unclasps your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders onto the floor. Rafe lifts you off your feet, and you find yourself in his arms yet again; this time, it’s skin on skin.

He sets you on the bed carefully, taking his time, looking at you underneath him. Rafe works slowly, biting the band of your red panties and pulling them down your thighs.

You can feel the chill of your wetness between your thighs as he breathes warmly against your sex. Reaching down, you rest your slight fingers on your clit as he watches, rubbing for a moment, teasing him, making him chuckle out a deep, dark laugh.

“No touching, princess,” he hums as he grabs your left hand, taking your middle and ring fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean up to the jewelry.

Goosebumps spread across your skin as he kisses your inner thighs, working closer and closer ‘til he’s kissing your clit.

You throw your head back into the pillow, thighs drawing in. Rafe grabs your knees, carefully spreading you wide, spitting on your pussy before sucking down, sliding two fingers into your soaked hole.

“So fucking wet,” he moans against your cunt, working you with his mouth just like you love, sucking, flicking, and kissing, leaving you crying out for more.

You feel yourself just seconds away from your release, but he already knows, quickening his pace, sucking down just a little more until your body comes undone. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him close as you pulse around his thick digits.

You relax around him, dissolving into the mattress as he continues to work his fingers in and out, watching your body continue to respond to his touch.

“How was that, princess?” Rafe asks with a smile, already knowing his answer. His long fingers are a mess with your climax.

You grab his wrist, drawing his fingers between your mouth, wrapping your lips around them, gliding them in and out like you’d suck him off.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans, watching you close. “We gotta get you feelin’ better. You’re so good at that…”

“Come here,” you smile, wrapping your hand around his neck and leading him to your lips. You look at the space between you, watching his thick cock, leaving a slight streak of precum on your stomach as he moves closer. “Fuck, baby,” you moan needily.

Rafe wraps his fist around his dick, tapping your clit, making your body jolt with sensitivity.

“Are you okay, baby?” He mumbles against your lips. “You wanna keep goin’?” Rafe asks as he traces his swollen tip around your soaked hole, pressing himself against it.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips. “I need you, please–” And just like when he was sliding on your ring, he could barely wait until you got the rest of the words out, filling your tight cunt like he was always meant to be there.

He lets out a deep groan, feeling the way your body pulls him in—the way the shape of you fits exactly how it should. “You feel that? Pussy was made for me, baby,” he breathes as he draws out, thrusting himself back in.

Rafe rolls his body into you, reaching that perfect spot inside you. Your body tightens around him, fingers twisting into the sheets.

You reach up, grabbing his cheeks, pressing a deep kiss against his lips; Rafe, swallowing your moans and pleasured cries.

Your back arches into him–nipples brushing against his chest. His chain falls on your chest, sticking to your sweat-glistened skin, making the tears pooling on your waterline fall as you see your initials etched in gold.

“I love you, Rafe… I love you,” you whisper as he picks up the pace.

“I love you more,” he soothes as he reaches up, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs. “Come on, baby. Cum on my cock.”

You bite your lip and nod, looking up at him as your climax comes hard and fast, your body pulsing with pleasure around his thick dick as he works you through your orgasm.

“Fuckkk,” he moans, drawing out the word as he empties himself inside you, his eyes screwing shut as you purposefully clench around him, making his body shudder.

He collapses on top of you, lips finding your forehead as he kisses, lingering as he catches his breath. Rafe moves a little lower, nuzzling his face against you, his voice barely above a breath as he whispers, “I love you.”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

267 notes · View notes

ducktoo · 2 days ago

Text

Getaway

Jo Yuri x M!Reader

Note: here’s to the hamster girl that got the big bag from the squid 🫶

It started with excitement. A group chat buzzing with memes about sunsets over the ocean, lists of must-try cruise activities, and an unhealthy number of debates over how many swimsuits one person actually needs. This was supposed to be the trip—five days of relaxation, laughter, and memories with your closest friends.

Then the excuses started rolling in.

First, it was Jihun. “Sorry, man, work’s piling up. I can’t take the time off.” His message was punctuated with a sad face emoji, as if that would soften the blow.

Next, Minji dropped out, claiming some vague “family emergency.” You tried to sympathize until you saw her Instagram story of her at a café with her dog, captioned Much-needed chill day.

By the time Seungmin admitted he “forgot” about his cousin’s wedding, you were already resigned to your fate. One by one, your friends bailed, leaving you holding the metaphorical bag—and the very literal cruise ticket.

Cancelling wasn’t an option. Non-refundable, non-exchangeable, non-everything, because you’d been too cheap to spring for the insurance. You’d planned for the luxury cabin, imagining yourself waking up to ocean views and feeling like royalty with your close friends. But with everyone else backing out, your budget evaporated faster than the group chat notifications.

Which led to this: you, booking a shared cabin with a stranger. It was either that or throw away the money you didn’t have to lose.

“You’ll be fine,” you told yourself as you stared at the confirmation email. “It’s just five days. How bad could it be?”

Yuri tugged the strap of her duffel bag higher on her shoulder, sighing as she handed over her cruise ticket at the check-in counter. She was supposed to be here with her family—her parents, her older sister—but life had a way of throwing curveballs.

Her sister had come down with the flu two days before the trip. Nothing too serious, but enough that her parents decided to stay home to take care of her. “You should still go,” her mother had insisted. “We already paid for your ticket. Think of it as a break.”

Yuri didn’t argue. A break sounded… necessary.

After Squid Game Season 2 aired, her world had been flipped upside down. Fame was exhilarating, sure, but it was also overwhelming. Endless interviews, promotional events, fans recognizing her on the street. It felt like she was constantly on, with no time to just breathe.

She’d thought about cancelling. Spending five days alone on a cruise ship wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But her mother’s words lingered: You need a break, Yuri. Go.

So here she was, trying to convince herself that five days of ocean views and buffet dinners could somehow make her feel like herself again.

The only catch? She’d been bumped to a shared cabin because of a last-minute shuffle in bookings. “It’ll be fine,” the cruise rep had told her over the phone. “It’s just a roommate. You’ll hardly notice them.”

Yuri rolled her eyes at the memory. Hardly notice them?

Yeah, right.

If this was anything like her recent luck, her roommate would either be a chatterbox who didn’t know the meaning of personal space or some fan who wouldn’t stop asking about the show.

She stepped into the tiny cabin, already dreading the next five days.

The cruise ship looms large in the harbor, its pristine white exterior gleaming under the midday sun. You pause for a moment, clutching your duffel bag, letting the salty breeze wash over you. The idea of going on this cruise solo still feels surreal, but with all your friends bailing at the last minute, you weren’t about to let the ticket—and your deposit—go to waste.

The fact that you’d been downgraded to a shared cabin? Well, that was a bitter pill you were still swallowing.

Cabin 512A. The number taunts you as you make your way down the narrow, carpeted hallways.

The luggage wheels behind you squeak, the only sound in the otherwise quiet corridor. You grip the keycard tightly, your heart thumping faster than it should. Sharing a cabin with a stranger was bound to be awkward, but you’d convinced yourself it couldn’t be that bad.

The door beeps as you slide the keycard, and you step inside. It’s… snug. Two single beds crammed into a space that feels more like a walk-in closet with delusions of grandeur. One bed is already claimed, judging by the neatly folded hoodie and headphones resting on it.

You hear a faint sound—a soft hum—from the bathroom. Your brows knit together. It’s familiar. Too familiar.

The door creaks open before you can dwell on it further, and your new cabinmate steps out. She’s small, dressed in an oversized sweater and denim shorts, her hair casually tied up. For a moment, her gaze locks with yours, her eyes wide and questioning.

“UH…hi,” she says, her voice soft but steady. “You must be my roommate.”

You nod, but you’re not really listening. Your brain is short-circuiting, trying to process what you’re seeing.

Jo Yuri.

Not just your cabinmate—Jo Yuri, the breakout star from Squid Game Season 2. You’d binge-watched the entire season when it came out a few months ago, captivated by her performance. She played one of the more appealing characters: the underdog who managed to power through the entirety of the season. People online had been calling her the “puppy of the season.”

And now, she’s standing in front of you, looking more ordinary than you ever thought possible. No makeup, no stylists, just a girl with messy hair and an easy smile.

“Uh… yeah,” you finally manage, trying to play it cool. “That’s me. Roommate. Hi.”

She chuckles, her smile widening. “You okay there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shake your head quickly, attempting to compose yourself. “No, no. It’s just… you look really familiar.”

Her expression shifts slightly, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Ah,” she says, her tone light but guarded. “You’ve seen it?”

You don’t need her to elaborate. “Squid Game?” you ask, careful to keep your voice neutral.

“Yeah.” She shrugs, leaning casually against the wall. “That’d do it.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you scramble to fill it. “You were great in it,” you blurt out, cringing internally at how fanboy-ish you sound. “Like, really great. One of the best parts of the season.”

Her lips quirk into a smile, but there’s a hint of weariness in it. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

You sense there’s more she’s not saying, but you don’t push. Instead, you gesture to your bed. “Uh, mind if I unpack?”

“Go for it,” she says, stepping aside.

The awkwardness lingers as you start unpacking, but you catch her glancing at you a couple of times, like she’s sizing you up. It’s weird—sharing a room with someone who’s been on your screen, who people have written essays and theories about online.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “So… what made you come on this cruise?”

You hesitate, debating how much to share. “Friends bailed,” you admit with a shrug. “Didn’t want to waste the ticket. What about you?”

She snorts, perching on the edge of her bed. “Needed a break. Too many people. Too much noise.”

“Isn’t that ironic?” you tease, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Considering, you know… you.”

Her laugh is light, genuine. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

The conversation eases after that, flowing like a gentle current. You don’t mention Squid Game again, and she doesn’t bring it up either. Instead, you talk about the ship, the itinerary, and the overly enthusiastic cruise director you’d both spotted during boarding.

But in the back of your mind, you’re still reeling. Jo Yuri, in the flesh. And somehow, you’re supposed to survive five days of sharing a cabin with her without making a complete fool of yourself.

You’re still reeling from the whole “roommate with a stranger” situation when Yuri suggests exploring the ship. It feels like the right thing to do—anything to avoid sitting in the cabin together, surrounded by the thick air of awkward silence.

“Uh… sure,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “Lead the way?”

Yuri raises an eyebrow at you, her expression somewhere between amused and unimpressed. “You’re really going to make me decide everything, huh?”

“No, no, I just—uh—thought maybe you… had a plan,” you mumble, stumbling over your words.

Her lips twitch into a small smirk. “Relax, I’m not gonna bite.”

You try, you really do, but relaxing is easier said than done when you’re walking shoulder to shoulder with someone like Jo Yuri. She’s effortlessly cool, with her confident stride and casual yet chic outfit that screams “I’m too cool for this, but I’m here anyway.” Meanwhile, you feel like a bundle of frayed nerves, overthinking every step and every word.

The first stop is the promenade deck. It’s lined with shops selling overpriced souvenirs, jewellery, and random knick-knacks you definitely don’t need.

“Look at this,” Yuri says, holding up a sparkly snow globe with a tiny replica of the ship inside. “A whole fifteen dollars for something that’s going to collect dust on a shelf.”

You laugh nervously, unsure if you’re supposed to agree or argue. “Yeah, it’s, uh… it’s definitely not worth it.”

She narrows her eyes at you, clearly catching on to your awkward vibe. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You blink, feeling your ears heat up. “I talk! I just… don’t want to say anything dumb.”

Yuri tilts her head, studying you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, she bursts out laughing. It’s not mocking—more like she finds your honesty refreshing. “You’re not as scary as you look.”

“I don’t look scary,” you protest, though your voice comes out weaker than you’d like.

“Mm, debatable,” she teases, nudging your arm.

You’re about to respond when the two of you pass by a small café on the deck. The smell of fresh pastries wafts out, and Yuri stops abruptly, sniffing the air like a cartoon character.

“Okay, we’re going in,” she declares.

Before you can protest, she grabs your wrist and pulls you inside. The café is cozy, with warm lighting and a display case full of pastries that look almost too good to eat. Yuri walks up to the counter, her eyes scanning the options with laser focus.

“Two croissants,” she says, turning to you. “And you’re paying.”

“What? Why?” you stammer, fumbling for your wallet.

“Because I’m cute and you’re trying to make a good first impression,” she says, deadpan, though her eyes twinkle with mischief.

You have no comeback for that, so you hand over the money and follow her to a small table by the window.

Yuri takes a bite of her croissant and lets out a satisfied hum. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is worth the overpriced cruise food.”

You nibble on yours, trying to act casual. “Yeah, it’s, uh… not bad.”

After finishing your snacks, the two of you wander out onto the open deck. The sea stretches endlessly in every direction, the horizon blending seamlessly with the sky. The sound of waves and the salty breeze are oddly calming.

“So,” Yuri says, breaking the silence. “What’s the first thing you wanna do tomorrow?”

You glance at her, surprised she’s asking. “Uh… I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be polite!”

“Polite is boring,” she says with a smirk. “But fine. How about karaoke? I saw a lounge near the theatre earlier.”

You immediately feel a pit in your stomach. “Karaoke? Like… singing?”

“No, like interpretive dance,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Yes, singing. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie, though the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of her is already giving you secondhanded anxiety.

“Good,” she says, her grin widening. “Because I’m definitely dragging you tomorrow.”

You wake up to the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship and faint footsteps outside the cabin. It takes a moment for you to remember where you are—and who you’re sharing the space with.

Rolling over, you see Yuri still fast asleep, her face buried in the pillow and her hair a chaotic mess. It’s oddly endearing, watching her like this, but you quickly snap out of it before she wakes up and catches you staring.

Not wanting to linger in the tiny cabin, you freshen up quietly and head to the deck to catch the sunrise. You don’t expect Yuri to join you, but just as the horizon starts to blush with orange and pink, you hear her voice.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asks, leaning on the railing beside you, still in her oversized hoodie. Her hair is slightly more presentable now, but you notice a faint crease on her cheek from the pillow.

“Something like that,” you reply, offering her a small smile.

For a while, the two of you stand there in silence, the morning air crisp and salty. The awkwardness from yesterday lingers faintly, but it feels more like background noise now, drowned out by the tranquillity of the moment.

“I’m starving,” she finally says, breaking the quiet.

You laugh. “I think they’re serving breakfast already. Want to head down?”

She nods, and the two of you make your way to the dining hall. It’s bustling but not chaotic, and you manage to snag a table near the window. Yuri piles her plate with fruit, eggs, and enough toast to feed a small village.

“Do you always eat this much in the morning?” you tease, gesturing to her plate.

She narrows her eyes at you, mock offense dripping from her tone. “I’m stocking up for the day. Don’t judge me.”

You chuckle and take a bite of your food, the atmosphere between you two finally starting to loosen.

After breakfast, the day unfolds naturally. You both decide to explore the ship, starting with the pool deck. The sun is warm, the water glistening, and you’re surprised to find how easy it is to talk to Yuri now.

“I can’t believe how big this place is,” she says, spinning in place to take it all in.

“Yeah, it’s like a floating city,” you agree.

She grins at you. “Still down for the karaoke? I’m kind of amazing at karaoke.”

“Oh really? Amazing, huh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t believe me?” she challenges, her tone playful.

“Surely someone here among us is not a singer, huh.”

The two of you continue wandering, checking out the shops, the gym, and even a small art gallery tucked away on one of the lower decks. Yuri lingers in front of a painting of a ship caught in a storm, her expression thoughtful.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, curious.

She shrugs but doesn’t look away from the painting. “I was just thinking… it’s crazy how people used to travel like this all the time, not knowing if they’d make it.”

“That’s kind of a downer,” you joke lightly, trying to break the mood.

She laughs softly and nudges your arm. “Sorry, I get weird sometimes. Let’s go find that karaoke bar.”

By the time evening rolls around, you’re both sitting in the lounge, sipping on mocktails with tiny umbrellas in them. Yuri sips hers thoughtfully, the sunset casting a golden glow over her face.

“I’m glad I didn’t cancel this trip,” she admits, almost to herself.

You glance at her, surprised. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s not so bad having a decent person to share it with.”

For a moment, you’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond. But then you see the way her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, and you realize she’s being genuine.

“Yeah,” you say softly, feeling the awkward tension between you two finally dissolve. “It’s not so bad.”

As the night stretches on, the ship seems to come alive with laughter and music, and you and Yuri find yourselves in the karaoke bar after all. She picks an upbeat song you don’t know but belts it out like a pro, her confidence infectious.

When she finishes, breathless and laughing, you can’t help but clap louder than anyone else in the room. She bows dramatically, blowing you a playful kiss before hopping off the stage.

“Your turn,” she says, sliding into the seat next to you.

“Oh hell no…” you protest, shaking your head.

“Too bad,” she replies, grabbing your arm and dragging you up to the stage. “We’re doing a duet. Here's a private lesson with a professional.”

And just like that, day two ends with the two of you laughing so hard you can barely breathe, the awkwardness from yesterday now nothing more than a distant memory.

Day three begins with a comfortable silence between you and Yuri as you both sip your morning coffee on the balcony. By now, you’ve grown accustomed to her quirks: the way she furrows her brows when she’s deep in thought, how she adds a ridiculous amount of sugar to her coffee, and how she taps her nails rhythmically on the table when she’s bored.

“You’re staring,” Yuri says without looking up from her phone, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

“Am not,” you reply quickly, turning your gaze to the horizon. The sun is already high, and the shimmering ocean stretches endlessly.

After breakfast, the ship announces its arrival at a nearby island, and Yuri excitedly suggests signing up for the snorkelling excursion. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” she says, practically bouncing in place.

You agree, not entirely for the snorkelling but because her enthusiasm is contagious.

The excursion is a dream. The guides take you to a secluded reef with crystal-clear waters teeming with marine life. As you put on your gear and dive in, the world beneath the waves feels magical. Schools of vibrant fish dart around coral formations, and the water is so clear you can see every detail.

At one point, Yuri taps your shoulder underwater and gestures wildly to a sea turtle gliding gracefully past. You laugh—or at least try to, but it comes out as a muffled gurgle. Yuri seems to find this hilarious, and even with her snorkel on, you can tell she’s grinning.

When you resurface, she flicks water at you playfully. “Did you see how close it was?!”

“I did,” you reply, trying to shake the water out of your hair. “But you nearly scared it off with your flailing.”

“I was pointing, not flailing,” she retorts, sticking her tongue out.

The day ends with a quiet dinner back on the ship. You both opt for a small, cozy restaurant instead of the bustling buffet. Over plates of grilled seafood and pasta, Yuri shares more about her life—her dreams, her fears, and the little things that make her who she is.

“You know,” she says, twirling her fork absentmindedly, “I didn’t expect to actually enjoy this trip. I thought it’d be awkward sharing a room with a stranger, but… it’s been nice.”

Her words catch you off guard, but you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it has.”

By day four, you and Yuri have become a dynamic duo. It’s no longer just about sharing a cabin—it’s about sharing the entire experience.

The morning starts with a group yoga class on the deck. Yuri insists on trying it, claiming it’ll be “relaxing.” You’re skeptical, especially when you realize how uncoordinated you are compared to her.

“Downward dog,” the instructor calls out.

You glance at Yuri, who’s already in perfect form, her movements graceful and fluid. Meanwhile, you’re struggling not to topple over.

“Need help?” she whispers, barely holding back her laughter.

“I’m f-fine,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your arms trembling. Don't even mention the fact that your back cracks with every slight movement.

Suffice to say, Yuri had a lot of fun holding her laugh when glancing at you.

After yoga, the two of you grab smoothies from the ship’s café and spend the rest of the morning lounging by the pool. Yuri pulls out a book she brought along, while you scroll through your phone. Every so often, she nudges you with her foot, pointing out something funny in her book or making a sarcastic comment about the poolside drama happening around you.

In the afternoon, the ship hosts a trivia competition. Yuri’s eyes light up when she hears about it, and she drags you to the event.

“You’re good at trivia, right?” she asks.

“Uhh…Define ‘good,’” you reply, already regretting your life choices.

The game is chaotic, with questions ranging from history to pop culture. Yuri surprises you with her knowledge of obscure facts—she nails the question about 18th-century composers but completely blanks when asked about the capital of Switzerland.

“It’s Zurich, right?” she whispers to you.

“No, it’s Bern,” you reply, smirking.

She glares at you, whispering back, “If you’re wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Despite a few missteps, you manage to place second. Yuri proudly dons the sailor hat prize and refuses to take it off for the rest of the day.

That evening, you attend the ship’s formal dinner. Yuri, dressed in a sleek black dress, turns heads as she walks into the dining hall. You’re about to compliment her, but she beats you to it.

“You clean up nicely,” she says, eyeing your outfit.

“So do you,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth in your cheeks betrays you.

The night ends with the two of you sitting on the deck, watching the stars. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the sound of waves and the occasional laughter of other passengers.

“This trip’s going to feel too short,” Yuri says softly, her gaze fixed on the sky.

You don’t respond immediately, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. Instead, you simply sit there, hoping the moment will stretch just a little longer.

The final day arrives with a bittersweet air. Breakfast feels quieter, and even Yuri’s usual sarcastic remarks are softer, almost hesitant.

“We should make the most of today,” she says, her voice determined but tinged with sadness.

And so, you do.

The two of you spend the morning doing all the things you hadn’t tried yet—arcade games, mini-golf, and even a cheesy photo booth where you both don silly props for the camera.

“Smile!” Yuri says, throwing her arm around your shoulder and holding up a fake moustache.

The resulting photo is ridiculous, but it’s one you know you’ll treasure.

In the afternoon, the ship docks at another island, and you both decide to go for a casual hike along the coast. The trail is quiet, with stunning views of the ocean. At one point, Yuri stops to take a photo, the wind catching her hair just right.

“Send me that one,” you say, pretending to be casual.

“Why? Planning to frame it?” she teases, but her cheeks turn pink.

The final evening arrives too soon. The ship hosts a farewell party, and the two of you join the crowd on the deck, dancing to live music. Yuri’s laughter is infectious as she spins you around, her energy lighting up the night.

And with the ship nears the port, reality sets in. The two of you return to your cabin to pack, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, as you stand by the railing one last time, Yuri hands you a folded piece of paper.

“In case we don’t run into each other again,” she says, her voice quiet.

You unfold it to find her phone number.

“Yuri—”

“Don’t say anything cheesy,” she interrupts, though her smile is soft.

When the ship finally docks and you part ways, you can’t help but feel like this is only the beginning of something bigger. But for now, you're contented with the short getaway with your lucky cabinmate, already reminiscing about it as you look at her back slowly disappearing to the crowd.

And hopefully, she enjoyed your company as much as she enjoyed yours.

#jo yuri #yuri izone #yuri fluff #izone fluff #squid game #squid game jun hee #junhee #x reader #kpop x reader

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my-castles-crumbling · 4 hours ago

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bad idea - February 2 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - slightly NSFW - word count: 226

“James,” Sirius whispered to his best friend as they walked towards the Great Hall, “this is a bad idea. He’s going to say no, and make a scene besides…”

“It’ll be fine,” James reassured him confidently, though Sirius personally thought his confidence bordered on delusion.

“Your funeral,” Sirius mumbled under his breath. And, just as he thought, as they approached the Slytherin table, he found himself receiving a disapproving glare. “Hey, Reg,” he said.

“Sirius,” Regulus responded stiffly. Then, he turned to James and broke into a grin. “Jamie.”

“Hi, Reggie! Say, can we borrow your broom for a bit? Sirius and I wanted to play a pickup game with a few other Gryffindors but my replacement broom hasn’t come in from when mine got destroyed last game,” James asked, completely at ease.

Icy gray eyes flickered from James to Sirius and back again. Sirius braced himself for impact. Regulus was very protective of his broom. But the Slytherin just shrugged. “Sure. Anything you need, love.”

Sirius gaped. “What the fuck? You’ve never let me use anything of yours, let alone your precious broom!”

Regulus, however, just gave Sirius a wry look. “Well, Sirius, you break my things when I let you use them. The only thing James breaks is my brain when he puts his hand on my c-”

“Oh, gross!” Sirius whined, stomping away.

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five-rivers · 1 day ago

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nervous

This fic is for the @infiniterealms remix event! Please enjoy!

“Stop it,” whispered Star, putting her foot on top of Paulina’s. “If you were going to freak out this much, you should have stayed home. Or at least not come to breakfast.”

“I don’t miss school. Or breakfast.” It was too important. The time before class was when rumors and information about what happened outside of school came to light.

Today, knowing the rumors would be vital.

She picked at her nails. They were new, the acrylics freshly applied, but they weren’t quite as even as they usually were. Not up to her usual standards. But she had to do it, just like she had to come in today.

Star put her hands over Paulina’s. They were shaking, too. “It’s going to be fine,” she said. “You just have to be, like, zen about it.”

“He didn’t even have anything on him.”

“I know. But we’ll work something out. Just- Just stop talking about it.”

Paulina took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Star and Paulina watched Valerie stalk across the courtyard, head held high, lunch tray exactly parallel to the ground. Despite not being in any sports, she moved with a tight, athletic grace. She drew eyes.

“She’s been getting full of herself lately,” said Paulina. “Like, she thinks she’s better than us. We’ve got to do something.”

“Aw, Pauli,” said Star. “Do we have to?”

“Like, yeah? Unless we want to just, you know, give up.”

“Give up what?”

“Uh, being on top? Duh.”

“I don’t know.”

“Listen, Star,” said Paulina, turning to face her. “I know you used to like her, but you’ve got to get over it. She’s the one who ditched us. And no one ditches us.”

Star looked down at her lunch, then nodded.

“Anyway,” said Paulina, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve got an idea.”

Paulina’s eyes drifted to where Valerie sat eating breakfast. She was wearing long sleeves, pants, and a hoodie. She hadn’t worn skirts or short sleeves since…

It was whatever. It wasn’t like Paulina cared. She was only looking because sometimes Valerie talked to the loser trio.

“We can check his locker,” Star was saying. “We’ve got the key. We just have to wait for a good time. We can take one more day.”

Paulina nodded and smiled shallowly. “Maybe.” Her smile quickly fell away, but as more people entered the cafeteria she covered up her general… mood… by examining her nails and checking her reflection in her new makeup mirror.

“That was great,” said Paulina. “Did you see the look on her face?”

“Mhm,” said Star, smiling tightly.

“It’ll keep her from looking down her nose at us,” said Paulina. She flipped open her makeup mirror, to check and make sure her lipstick hadn’t smudged. But what she saw wasn’t her face. It was something terrible. Something rotting and skull-like.

She shrieked and dropped the mirror, breaking it.

Suddenly, the hallway was empty and cold.

“Bullieeeeees…” groaned a sepulchral voice. “Bullieeeeeeeeeeeeees… You will regreeeeeeet…”

Paulina shivered.

“You alright?” asked Kwan.

“Just a chill.” She shot a smile at him. “They’ve changed the air conditioner settings or something, it’s like it’s blowing on me.”

The others started joking about how underfunded and cheap the school was. This allowed Paulina to turn her attention to the doors just as Sam Manson came in.

Even under these circumstances, Paulina couldn’t help but curl her lip at Manson’s appearance. Everything she wore was just so– so ugly. Even the way she dyed her hair was crude. The color was totally fake and flat. Her skirt looked like someone had taken a pair of scissors and a spray can to it. The less said about her grungy, safety-pinned jacket the better.

But more than that, seeing Manson reminded Paulina of the last time she’d had the displeasure of speaking to her.

It had been two days since they’d pranked Valerie, and those two days were the worst. Everything that could go wrong, did. She always had a backup outfit at school - no one was perfect, but she could look that way - but her spare skirt caught on the door of her locker and tore. And then there were… things. Things lurking in mirrors, or out of the corner of her eye. The feeling of something just outside the door whenever she went to the school bathrooms…

And Star was having some kind of problem with missing textbooks or whatever. It wasn’t important.

But Paulina knew exactly how to deal with this. Or, rather, exactly who could deal with this. It was just a matter of getting in touch with her knight in shining armor.

She knew just how to do it, though. She’d done it before. For one reason or another, Phantom always showed up most often around the loser trio. Probably because they sucked so much that they just, like, attracted ghosts who wanted to kill them or something, and Phantom had to spend all his time protecting them instead of dating Paulina, like he deserved.

Whatever it was, it meant that she could get a message to Phantom through them.

She waited for the right time to approach them - not because she cared about them, but because she could practically feel her reputation taking a hit just from being around them - and then put on her best smile and dragged Star along behind her.

“What do you want?” snarled Manson.

“Rude,” she said.

Manson’s eyes narrowed. “Get on with it. We want to get to class.”

She tittered in a way that she knew irritated Manson. “So, you guys see Phantom all the time, right?”

“N-not really,” said Fenton, not looking at her.

“As much as anyone,” said Manson.

“Well, you see,” said Paulina, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers, “I was wondering if you could give him a message from me?”

“You want to invite him to your birthday party through us again?”

“No,” said Paulina, rolling her eyes. That hadn’t worked well enough for her to want Manson in her house ever again. “It’s just, I’ve been having a bit of a ghost problem.”

“Me, too,” said Star, quickly.

Fenton looked up, brows pinched together. “You have?”

“It’s Poindexter,” said Manson. “You remember. From what they did with Valerie.”

“Oh,” said Fenton, expression shuttering. “Tuck, are you sure you have the right combination?”

“Dude, just use your key. You have it, right?”

Fenton started to search his pockets and backpack.

“It isn’t just anything,” said Paulina, “it’s, like, a huge problem whenever I’m at school.”

“Then stay home,” said Manson. “Or be less of a b–”

Fenton opened his locker with a bang, shoved back in the gadgets that tried to spill out, and started exchanging books.

“Sorry,” said Manson, clearly feeling anything but. “We’ve got class.”

Paulina growled a little inside. If it hadn’t been for Manson, then it never would have gotten this far. Phantom would have fixed everything.

When Foley arrived, he looked… Normal. He clearly hadn’t heard anything. He wasn’t upset enough.

Either way, he sat down next to Manson and they started talking.

“Come on, Pauli, let’s go,” said Star, tugging Paulina’s arm.

“Uh, what?”

“You said you’d help me do my hair before class,” lied Star.

Paulina wasn’t the kind of person to give up, and she wasn’t going to let Manson get in the way of making this stupid ghost go away and bother someone who actually deserved it. Like Lester, maybe. He was so annoying, and he’d had the guts to ask her to the last dance. So gross.

So, she waited until Fenton was alone and cornered him.

“Phantom and I don’t talk to each other,” he said, not looking directly at her, which was so annoying. He was supposed to have a huge crush on her. This was supposed to work. “I can’t help you with that.”

“But he’s always around you. I just need you to pass on one message.”

“I can’t help you,” repeated Danny. “My parents are ghost hunters, Paulina, they chase after Phantom and shoot at him. He doesn’t want to talk to me. I’m pretty sure Phantom has some kind of truce with Sidney, anyway.”

“Who?”

“You know, the ghost that’s haunting you? Sidney Poindexter? You’ll be fine, you just have–”

“That gross nerd?” Paulina needed to get rid of this ghost even more! She shuddered.

“Okay, fine,” said Star, who Paulina had almost forgotten was there, “so he doesn’t talk to you - like, who would–”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But you’ve got, like, stuff from your parents, right? Ghost hunting stuff. You could give that to us for, like, protection.”

Fenton backed away. “I really can’t.”

“Sorry,” said Star as they left the cafeteria. “But this’ll probably be the best time, before classes start and while those two are still in the cafeteria. You still have the keys?”

“Yeah,” said Paulina, touching her purse. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I do. I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were,” said Star. She sped up, lengthening her stride. “God, this would have been so much easier if he’d just been, like, a halfway decent person and helped us.”

One of the classroom doors next to them opened and Mr. Falluca walked out. Paulina froze for a second, but Mr. Falluca wasn’t even looking at them, instead focused on the stack of papers in his hands.

“Don’t just stand there looking guilty,” hissed Star. “Come on, Pauli. We have to keep going.”

Paulina swallowed and nodded.

“Come on Fenton.” This time, she’d caught him before school, when no one would see. “How often do your parents check your stuff? We won’t need it for long, you know? If they notice, can’t you just say a ghost stole it?”

“Okay, how about this? I don’t want to give you anything.”

“What?” demanded Paulina. “Why not?”

“You know that I dated Valerie, right?”

“And then she dropped you like a bag of moldy potatoes,” said Paulina. “Your point?”

“My point is that I still like her. And what you did to her…. Look. Just apologize to her. Really apologize, like, make amends and stuff, and you’ll be fine, okay?”

The hallway Fenton’s locker was in was empty, although there were sounds coming from a few of the classrooms.

“Okay,” said Star. “Keys.”

Paulina nodded, then dug them out of her purse to hand to her.

“Keep an eye out.” Star turned towards Fenton’s padlock. It was one of those weird ones that had both a combination lock and a backup keyhole. “God, why does he have so many keys?”

“I don’t know, just hurry, okay?”

“Yeah,” muttered Star. “Don’t worry, everything will be over soon.”

“Hey!” shouted Star. “Fenton!”

He stopped, looking back over his shoulder warily.

“If you don’t help us,” said Star, out of breath, “then–”

“Then we’ll tell everyone about your ghost detector,” finished Paulina. They’d scraped together every rumor about Fenton they could to come up with this.

“My… what?” said Fenton, blankly.

Paulina had to give him credit, he was a good liar. “You don’t expect people to believe you go to the bathroom that much, do you? And always right before a ghost attack? We know your parents gave you something. Help us, or we’ll tell everyone about it, and about how you’ve been keeping it to yourself so you can hide like a coward.”

“I– What? I don’t– I don’t have anything like that!”

She took back what she said about him being good at lying.

“If I can notice it,” said Paulina, “other people will believe it. You think you’re at the bottom of the social ladder now…” she trailed off, threateningly. Maybe if she hadn’t been so stressed, she would have tried a bit more honey, but sometimes vinegar was all you had.

A number of complex expressions chased across Fenton’s face, but they ended with something hard.

“No,” he said, and then he turned away and left.

“Ha! Got it.” Star dropped the lock in her pocket before pulling open the locker.

“What does he have?” asked Paulina, looking over her shoulder. “He has to have some kind of, like, shield or something.”

“I don’t know,” said Star, pushing textbooks to the side. “You’re seeing what I’m seeing. Here.” She pulled a backpack - not Fenton’s normal one - off the hook. “See what you can find in here.”

She pulled open the zipper, and inside was… money? A cheap flip phone? Lipstick? Two changes of clothes, one for a girl?

Paulina wondered what Fenton was into, but it didn’t matter now. She unzipped the smaller pockets and started rifling through those.

“What now?” asked Star.

It had been a few days since they’d last talked to Fenton, and, therefore, a few days since they’d spread around the rumor, but Fenton had been… unmoved.

Which meant that Sidney Poindexter was still a problem.

With an act of will, Paulina smoothed out her expression. “If we can’t get what we want by asking nicely, we’ll just take it.”

“But, like, how? He’s not coming to us.”

“Not yet,” she said. She thought about it. “Mama always said, if a man’s hiding one thing, he’s hiding a bunch else, too. We’ll slip him a note saying, like, if he doesn’t want his real secret to be spread around, he’ll show up.”

“And give us what we want?”

“No,” said Paulina. “I don’t think that he’ll give once he’s seen us. He’s got to carry his stuff on him, right? So we’ll just take it then.”

“Beat up Fenton by ourselves?” asked Star, dubiously.

“Or threaten him,” said Paulina. “We both bring something to threaten him with, okay?” Her Papa had a stun gun, and she was sure Star could scrounge up a baseball bat or something.

And, besides, she wanted to get Fenton back.

“There’s nothing in here!” hissed Star, frustrated. She slammed the locker closed, making Paulina jump. “What the hell.”

Paulina grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the nearest bathroom. “Can you not?”

“Can you not? It’s your fault we’re even in this situation!”

“My fault? What about what you did?”

Fenton was already there, leaning against the guardrail, when they reached the bridge in the park. During daylight, it was a popular spot for couples, but it was creepy and abandoned at night

“Oh, no, not this again. Haven’t you had enough fun with your stupid ghost detector rumor?”

“It’s not about fun, Fenton,” said Paulina. “Now, give it over.”

“Or what?” He stood up and walked a few steps closer to them, a strange expression on his face. “I don’t think you actually know anything, or you would’ve used it already.”

“Or this,” said Paulina, pulling out the stun gun.

“What the– Is that a taser?” asked Fenton, raising his hands and stepping back. “Are– Are you robbing me?” He glanced sideways at Star, apparently only then noticing her bat.

“Consider a donation to a worthy cause,” said Paulina. “Hand over your ghost stuff.”

“I don’t have any,” said Fenton.

“When you’re out here in the middle of the night?” asked Paulina, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, you wouldn’t even be haunted if you–”

Paulina saw red and hit the trigger. The electrodes flew from the end of the stun gun, right on target. Fenton yelped and fell to the ground, seizing.

It was… satisfying, for lack of a better word. She’d just been so– So frustrated, lately. All of her normal ways of blowing off steam at school had been blocked by that horrible ghost.

She pulled the trigger again.

But, before she could, Fenton had swiped away the electrodes, and now he was pulling himself up with the railing, hand over his face. What Paulina could see of it though–

Star came in, swinging her bat. She cracked Fenton right across the jaw and he tumbled over the railing and off the bridge. There was a loud cracking sound. Fenton hitting the pavement of the walkway below.

There was no other sound.

Paulina breathed in, breathed out.

“What did you do that for?” she asked.

“You didn’t see his face,” wailed Star. “He looked like– like he was going to kill you. I didn’t hit him that hard!”

Paulina shook her head and went down under the bridge. Star followed close behind. Fenton was… lying there. Broken.

But still breathing.

“We’ve got to search him,” said Star.

“Hm?”

“For his stuff.”

“Oh, right.”

“And then we’ve got to…”

“I know,” said Paulina. Then, dreamlike, she asked, “Can I borrow your bat?”

“We both did things,” said Paulina, finally. “The important thing is that we’re in this together, right?” Her voice trembled. “Right?”

Star nodded. “Right. So– So, we can, like, we have his house keys, too.”

“Yeah,” said Paulina. The Fentons had to have something in their house, even if their kid was apparently a moron who went around with absolutely nothing.

“And no one’s even noticed he’s gone yet,” continued Star. “We’ve just…” She stopped as she put her hand in her pocket. “I’ve still got his stupid lock.”

“Who cares?”

“His friends will notice if it’s gone. And we’ve got to get to class, anyway.” Star seemed to be calming down again. Good. She was surprisingly useful in a… situation.

In Paulina’s trunk was a thick canvas tarp.

She didn’t know why, exactly. It had come with the car.

Star went over it, pulling off tags.

Paulina broke two nails getting it back to the trunk.

They drove to the river.

“They’ll assume it was a ghost,” said Star. “Especially if they don’t find him.”

Paulina had just nodded.

Paulina followed Star as they left the bathroom. It was fine. They were going to put the lock back on the locker and it would all be fine.

But someone was standing in front of Fenton’s locker.

They turned, slowly, as if they were a character in a lame horror movie. But Paulina couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Fenton’s eyes met hers.

#danny phantom #infinite realms #infinite realms remix 2025 #infiniterealmsremix2025 #fic #my fic #phandom event

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00valentina-writes00 · 1 day ago

Note

Your fics are amazing! They comfort me during my 3 am reading sessions😭🫂

I was wonder if you could do Reader x Sevika, where like reader and Sevika are on a mission by Silco but things go wrong and Reader gets hurt and like Sevika gets worried like hell. (Make it really angsty to the wound PLEASEEE🧎‍♂️❤️)

✞⛧ Not you ✞⛧

Warnings: blood, severe injury, gun violence, near-death experience, angst, emotional distress, soft Sevika moments, hurt/comfort

The night is thick with smoke and gunfire, the air electric with the scent of burning metal. Silco’s orders were clear—get in, secure the shipment, and get out. Simple enough. You and Sevika had done far worse for him.

But things never go as planned.

You were halfway through the exchange when everything spiraled. A deal gone wrong. A setup. A fucking ambush. Sevika’s shouts had barely reached your ears before the bullets started flying. You had ducked behind a crate, pulse pounding, your own gun trembling in your grip.

And then—searing heat.

You don’t even register the pain at first, just the sheer force of it knocking you onto your back. A bloom of red spreads across your ribs, hot and wet. Your breath stutters. The world tilts.

Sevika’s there in an instant. You don’t even see where she came from, only that she’s dropping to her knees, her metal arm throwing off sparks as she shields you from another round of bullets.

“Fuck—baby—stay with me,” she breathes, her voice a razor’s edge of panic.

Her hands are on you, firm and shaking all at once. Her flesh hand presses down hard on your wound, trying to stem the bleeding. It hurts like hell. You groan, vision spotting black.

“Sevika…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, breath wheezing as the blood coats your lips. “Shit…”

Her eyes are wild, searching your face, searching for something—anything—to tell her you’re going to be okay. But even you don’t know if you will.

“Don’t fucking talk,” she snaps, but there’s no anger in her voice. Just raw desperation. Her hand shakes as she reaches up to cup your cheek, smearing blood across your skin. “You’re gonna be fine, y’hear me?”

The gunfire is still raging around you, but all you can hear is her voice. It’s ragged, breaking. You’ve seen Sevika mad before—furious, lethal, merciless. But this? This is fear.

Someone comes up behind her—a thug, the one who shot you, maybe—but before you can react, Sevika does. She twists, her metal arm catching the bastard by the throat and crushing it in one swift movement. He doesn’t even get the chance to scream.

Then she’s back to you, tearing off a strip of her already-ruined shirt, pressing it against your wound with a force that makes you cry out. Her teeth clench. “I know, baby. I know,” she mutters, voice thick. “But I need you to hold on.”

You try to. You really do. But the pain is all-consuming, dragging you under like a riptide. You can feel the warmth of your blood spilling out too fast, slipping through her fingers.

Sevika curses under her breath, and then suddenly, you’re being lifted. The world spins. Her grip on you is ironclad, her body solid and strong against your weakening one.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs, over and over, like a prayer. “I’ve got you.”

She’s running, dodging bullets, moving like a force of nature. You don’t know where she’s taking you, only that she won’t stop—not until she gets you somewhere safe.

Your head lolls against her shoulder. You try to focus on her heartbeat, the way it pounds, erratic and frantic. She’s never been scared like this before. Not even when her own life was on the line.

You try to tell her you love her, that you’re sorry, that it’ll be okay. But all that comes out is a wet, broken gasp before darkness swallows you whole.

You wake up to the smell of alcohol and something bitter. The pain is the first thing you register—sharp, deep, tearing through your ribs with every breath. You groan, barely able to move.

Then there’s a hand in your hair, warm and trembling.

“Hey—hey, baby.”

Sevika’s voice is hoarse. You blink blearily, vision struggling to focus. She’s there, hunched over you, looking like she hasn’t slept in days. Her shirt is stained with your blood, her jaw tight, her brows furrowed so deep you think they might stay that way forever.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she mutters, fingers tracing the edge of your face like she’s trying to convince herself you’re real.

You try to smirk, but it barely comes through the pain. “Not… dead yet.”

Her expression crumples.

She looks away, exhaling sharply. When she looks back, her eyes are wet. “You almost were.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

She shakes her head, fingers pressing against your palm, grounding herself in your warmth. “You lost too much blood. The doc said—” Her voice catches. She swallows hard. “Said it was a close fucking call.”

You squeeze her hand, or at least try to. You don’t have much strength left. “Guess I’m lucky.”

“Don’t,” she snaps, sudden and sharp. Her grip tightens around yours, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her point clear. “Don’t act like this is nothing. You almost fucking died.”

Her voice cracks on the last word.

You blink, watching her, the raw emotion in her face. Sevika doesn’t get like this. She doesn’t let herself get like this.

Not unless it’s you.

You try again, softer this time. “I’m sorry.”

She exhales shakily, pressing your hand to her lips, eyes shutting tight.

For a long moment, there’s silence. Just the sound of your ragged breathing, the way her grip won’t loosen, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she lets go.

Finally, she looks at you again, and there’s something fierce and broken in her gaze. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

And you swear, if you had the strength, you’d reach up and hold her the way she’s holding you.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika headcanon #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika i love you #arcane angst #arcane fic #arcane drabbles #arcane x y/n

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sotwk · 2 days ago

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Not A Bad Thing (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Inspired by the song lyric: "Don’t act like it’s a bad thing to fall in love with me." Not a Bad Thing by Justin Timberlake

Word count: 1.7 k Genre tags: romance, hurt/comfort, love confession, pining, idiots in love, friends to lovers Rating: Teen Content Warnings: Brief mentions of implied abuse. Tons of sap with a side of cheese. It's indulgent, okay? ;) To Read on AO3: LINK

Not A Bad Thing

Bucky Barnes x Reader

“May I come in?” he asked with gentility borne from manners of a bygone era. On top of that, he observed the etiquette of the digital age, and texted you that morning to ask first whether he could drop by for a visit.

Maybe saying yes had been a mistake. Maybe you should have heeded logic instead of gut reaction. But after last night, your mind remained too cloudy to process logic.

The vibe between you was suffocating as you settled into the living room, even with the TV on in the background to drown out the silence. As though this was your first time alone in a room together. Never mind the many all-nighters spent hanging out over boxes of Thai takeout, you pounding out thesis edits on your laptop while he snorted and guffawed at his latest survival show binge--a ritual developed over the course of a year that finally helped you cross the finish line to your Master’s. If only you had discovered sooner that the solution to your crippling focus and anxiety issues lived just two floors above you.

“I want to make sure you're okay,” Bucky finally said. Never one to hedge around a difficult conversation, one of the most refreshing things about his friendship. As he studied your face for answers his eyes were soft, not judging. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but duck behind the rumpled curtains of your unbound hair.

“I’m fine.” You inhaled a bracing breath and tugged the cuff of your sweater past your wrist. “It’ll be fine.” You’ve been repeating that to yourself all day, and were just about convinced of it.

“It will be,” Bucky agreed. “As long as that asshole doesn’t show his face around here.”

You straightened up abruptly. “Don’t say that--”

“I’m serious. If I run into him in this building again, or see him within a hundred feet of you, there will definitely be a problem.” You saw his gloved hand clench into a fist, and a conflicting mix of worry and satisfaction swirled in you. Preston had threatened to do the same to your oblivious neighbor multiple times, never realizing that it didn’t matter that he was a taller and bigger man and a self-crowned Alpha who always got his way. Bucky would have him eating carpet before he could take a swing.

“He’s not worth getting yourself into trouble over.”

“He’s not. But you are.” His calm tone was cracking, his demeanor darkening with each word. “He owes you an apology. He should be on his knees begging for forgiveness he doesn’t even deserve to get.”

“It was an argument.” You tugged on your sleeve again. “A bad one, the worst one. But the last one. He and I are done.”

Bucky said your name, sternly but gently, spoken in a way that seemed to pry off the shield you had flung up to keep him from the truth. Your pulse quickening, you dropped your gaze to the floor. “I don’t know how much you heard last night--”

“I heard all of it--and more,” he said. “I know last night was one of many. I know how he’s been treating you for weeks now. I hate myself for never saying a word about it.”

The admission should not have shocked you. Superhuman hearing would pick up regular conversations from the next building over, much less a couple of floors away, and Preston had taken to unloading his frustrations at increasingly high volume on his more recent visits.

“The way he spoke to you, the things he called you--” Bucky stopped short, his jaw tight with rage that he needed a moment to tamp back down.

Bitch. Whore. Despite the sting of Preston’s words, you felt a wash of relief that your now ex-boyfriend had taken off before Bucky appeared at your door last night to check on you. You wondered at the restraint it had taken your friend to hold off as long as he did, and to let you turn him away, if he truly had overheard everything.

Because of the other half of the story. The other things that Preston and you were yelling at each other about; the primary cause of all those escalating fights.

“It was my fault.” The statement jumped from your mouth, escaping you in your weakness. “He--he was already drunk and upset, and I made him even angrier. He was SO angry…”

You sniffled and pressed the heels of your palms against your welling eyes. Suddenly Bucky was crouched right in front of you, clasping two hands around your forearm. His ungloved thumb brushed lightly, but purposefully, over the bruised muscle underneath your sweater. He knew. Of course he did.

“Don’t put this on yourself,” he said. “Nothing excuses his behavior. Not even…” There was a pause, only for the second it took him to push through his hesitation. “....not even if the things he said are true.”

Your whole body stiffened in flight response, and when you pulled your arm away, he released his grip, again proving he was the exact opposite of Preston. Again demonstrating exactly how he had stolen your heart away from the guy you’d been with since high school, with you barely noticing.

“You did nothing wrong,” Bucky continued. “Neither did I. But I wanted to… I…” He laid his hand briefly over his mouth, a half-hearted attempt to stuff back in the cat already out of the bag. “I was tempted to. So, so badly. Even just to say something.”

“You wanted to warn me about him,” you said miserably.

Bucky shook his head. “I clocked his jealousy the day I met him, but I couldn’t blame him for that. Any guy with a brain should be scared of losing you. But after a while, I started to realize he did have a serious reason to worry.”

Realizing where this was heading, you felt a nauseating twist in your stomach. “I can explain. It--I didn’t mean to--” You bolted to your feet and stepped around him, propelled by the need to run from your own embarrassment. You moved as far away from him as possible before the wall stopped you.

Where should you start apologizing for this mess? For calling on him regularly to spend late nights, sometimes overnight, at your apartment, appointing him your “study buddy” as though you were some middle-schooler? For declaring him your “good luck charm”, making him feel obligated to keep coming? For ignoring the fact that you’d been spending far more time with the handsome neighbor than your own boyfriend, maybe as a subconscious retaliation for said boyfriend always choosing the company of his Goldman-Sachs colleagues over yours, while simultaneously accusing your grad studies of eating into “his” time? Or perhaps, the cherry on top that sent Preston over the edge: inviting Bucky to join last night’s celebration for the completion of your thesis, “just for the pre-dinner drinks”.

“The only thing I want to know is whether any of the stuff that guy went on like a lunatic about is true. Was he right?” Bucky pointed to you, then himself, in a back and forth gesture. “You and me…do you… are we--”

“Wait, wait.” He threw up both hands. “Don’t answer. If I make one more dumb mistake, I’d be just as much of a pig as he is.”

He strode forward, and there was just something in his approach that not only kept you from skittering away, but drew you in. Even as you stared at the toes of your socks, you shuffled a few steps closer.

“If you hadn't kept asking me to come over and keep you company, I would have found some way, any excuse, to invite myself,” he said. “The nights I've spent with you have given me peace I haven't felt in a hundred years. I was never going to give that up.”

As soon as he was close enough, he reached for your hand. Slowly, making sure you showed no resistance. The touch of his bare hand against yours for the first time sent tears flooding from your eyes, now that you could accept the fact that you've been so hungry for it this whole time.

“I should have said something the minute I saw things weren't right between you two. I knew you were too good for him, but I was a coward. I didn't know if I could handle not being able to convince you to choose me instead. I didn't want to risk losing you as a friend, even though I always wanted to be more. And have more of us, more of you.”

“Bucky.” Your voice was so small and tight in your throat you could barely hear yourself. “You're the one who's too good for me.”

He snorted. “No offense, but that's the biggest load of crock I've ever heard.”

“I handled everything wrong! I used you, I used Preston…”

“What else is a man supposed to do but make himself useful to the woman he loves?!” he exclaimed suddenly. “How else will you decide which one is worth your time?”

“But Preston--’”

“...he hurt you when he thought he might be losing you.” Bucky said. “While it killed me everyday to know you were with him. But if he’s what you wanted, I was willing to take what little piece of you I could have.”

“That's what drove him crazy,” you whispered. “He noticed you weren't holding just a little piece of me.”

His tense expression broke into a grin, and when you glanced up at the right time to see it, his gaze locked onto yours. You sniffed, swept your free hand over your splotchy cheeks, and smiled back.

“God…” he muttered, sliding his hand from your wrist up to your elbow, tugging you a bit closer. “You’re so beautiful.” For a second, he looked embarrassed. “Sorry. There’s a lot of things I’ve been holding back from telling you, and now the dam’s finally burst.”

“A lot of things?” Your hand ascended his shoulder to curl around the collar of his jacket. “Funny, I have only one thing to say.”

“I’m listening.” The arm he wrapped around your waist was impossibly gentle for something made of literal steel.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” This close to yours, his eyes were strikingly blue with intensity. “That makes you happy?”

“You’ve always made me happy.”

What little space remained between you disappeared in the circle of his arms, and he paused long enough to chuckle against the corner of your mouth. “And to think I’m finally just getting started.”

Want more Bucky? SotWK's MCU Masterlist

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #mcu fanfic #non-tolkien fic #mcu

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magical-reid · 3 days ago

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A New Hope

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Popular!Reader

Word Count: 1K

Summary: After Stiles unexpectedly scores the game-winning goal in a crucial lacrosse match, his reputation at school shifts, and your friends start pushing you toward him as a potential date. What starts as a reluctant agreement leads to a surprisingly fun evening, where you discover Stiles' sweet, genuine side, and before you know it, you're seriously considering a second date with the awkward yet endearing boy.

The roar of the Beacon Hills High crowd was deafening, the stands alive with the kind of energy only a last-minute victory could bring. The lacrosse team had done the impossible—beating Devenford Prep in the final seconds. But the biggest shock of the night wasn’t the win.

It was who had secured it.

Stiles Stilinski.

The guy who spent more time warming the bench than actually playing had somehow been in the right place at the right time, scoring the game-winning goal. As the team hoisted him onto their shoulders and the crowd erupted in cheers, you stood on the sidelines with your friends, more baffled than anything else.

“Stiles Stilinski?” you muttered under your breath. “Seriously?”

But over the next few days, the school seemed to be collectively rewriting its perception of him. Suddenly, he wasn’t just the “weird” kid who couldn’t stop talking or tripping over his own feet. He was the underdog hero, the quirky player who’d saved the day.

That was how you found yourself sitting at your usual lunch table, staring blankly at Lydia Martin as she grinned at you like she’d just hatched a foolproof plan.

“Okay, hear me out,” Lydia began, leaning forward conspiratorially. “You and Stiles. It’s perfect.”

You blinked, fork hovering over your salad. “Come again?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Lydia said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “You and Stiles. A date. Trust me—it’ll be fun.”

You frowned, shaking your head. “Lydia, he’s… not really my type.”

Lydia’s grin didn’t falter for a second. “You don’t have a type. And Stiles is sweet. Funny. Smart.”

“And kind of adorable,” Allison chimed in, smiling. “In that awkward-but-endearing way.”

“He’s also the weird kid who used to do that thing with the Jello during lunch,” you reminded them, raising an eyebrow.

Lydia waved a dismissive hand. “That was, like, freshman year. He’s changed. And honestly? You need someone who’ll actually treat you well. Stiles is exactly that kind of guy.”

“And if I say no?” you challenged, though your tone lacked conviction.

“Then I’ll remind you that I covered for you during that Chem lab incident,” Lydia said sweetly, her smile sharp. “Remember?”

You sighed. “Fine. One date. One.”

The day of the date came faster than you’d expected, and before you knew it, Stiles was pulling into your driveway in his blue Jeep. You hesitated before climbing in, giving yourself a mental pep talk. This was just a group hangout. You could survive one night.

“Uh, hi,” Stiles greeted when you got in, his nervous smile immediately betraying how much this meant to him. “You, uh… you look really nice.”

“Thanks,” you replied, startled by the sincerity in his tone.

The drive to the diner was mostly quiet, though Stiles kept stealing glances at you like he couldn’t believe you were there. When you arrived, the rest of the group was already waiting at a booth near the back.

“Hey, you two!” Lydia greeted cheerfully, sliding over to make room.

You took the seat next to her, and Stiles sat across from you, flanked by Scott and Jackson. It wasn’t long before the group began its obvious—and borderline embarrassing—campaign to talk Stiles up.

“He’s basically the reason we won the game,” Scott said casually, nudging Stiles with his elbow.

“Not to mention he’s got this, like, weird savant thing with math,” Allison added.

“And he’s surprisingly good at trivia,” Lydia said. “He’s the reason we didn’t lose that trivia night at Jungle.”

Stiles was practically squirming in his seat, his cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment. You leaned back, taking it all in with a raised eyebrow. “You guys are really going all in on this, huh?”

Lydia grinned. “Just trying to make sure you know what a catch he is.”

For his part, Stiles seemed determined to live up to their praise. He opened every door for you, pulled out your chair before you could even reach for it, and insisted on paying for your milkshake—despite your protests.

“You really don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said firmly, holding his ground. “It’s… I don’t know. The right thing to do?”

His earnestness caught you off guard. Most guys you hung out with didn’t bother with stuff like this, let alone insist on it.

At some point during the night, Lydia grabbed your arm and dragged you toward the bathroom, Allison and another girl following close behind.

“So?” Lydia asked the moment the door shut. “What do you think?”

You crossed your arms, shrugging like it was no big deal. “What do I think about what?”

“About Stiles,” Allison clarified, leaning against the counter. “You’re, like, actually having fun, right?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie,” Lydia interrupted. “You were smiling when he told that ridiculous story about Scott falling off the roof. And you’ve been laughing at his jokes.”

“I smile all the time,” you argued weakly, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Not like this,” Lydia said knowingly. “You like him, don’t you?”

“I—” You hesitated, looking between the girls as they stared you down. “He’s… different. I didn’t expect this.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

You bit your lip, unable to answer.

Back at the table, Stiles was in the middle of an animated Star Wars discussion with Scott and Jackson.

“And, like, there’s no way anyone can say Greedo shot first. It’s just—”

“Actually,” you interrupted, your voice cutting through the chatter, “the debate exists because Lucas changed it in the Special Edition. In the original 1977 release, Han shot first. That’s why people were so mad.”

The table went silent.

Every head turned toward you, and Stiles stared at you like you’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery.

“You… know that?” he asked, his voice almost reverent.

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the attention. “What? Just because I don’t wear a Star Wars shirt doesn’t mean I don’t know stuff.”

Stiles blinked, then blurted out, “Marry me.”

The table erupted into laughter, but you couldn’t stop looking at him—or the way his face lit up when you smiled back.

“Maybe ask me on a second date first,” you teased.

The grin that spread across his face made it clear: he absolutely would.

Part 2

#magical-reid #self insert #reader insert #fluff #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski self insert #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski reader insert

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multifandomgirl08 · 4 hours ago

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White Wedding (Mini Verstappen Series)

Dad!Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: The Full version of the wedding.

Warning(s): N/A

Words: 4.9k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

February 2, 2025

It had been a surprisingly warm day in Belgium for February. You had spent the morning at Victoria’s apartment getting ready for the wedding. You had coffee with Sophie before the hair and makeup lady came to get all three of you ready.

You and Max had chosen to have the wedding at a neoclassical castle in Kapellen. It was big enough given that the guest list had a little more than 100 people showing up. You have been a little concerned as it normally was still snowing in Belgium during this part of the year.

The woman who was doing your hair into loose waves pinned some of the ringlets back away from your face, spraying on the last bit of the hairspray when Victoria had walked into the room holding Luka.

“Ready?” She asked.

You gave her a nod back.

The drive over made some of your nerves come out. You were tapping your foot in the backseat. Sophie had eventually put her hand over your knee. You had stopped instantly leaning back, this was probably the longest you had gone without talking to Max since you had moved in with him.

Pulling up to the castle felt surreal. It had all been set up with white tent covers. You could see people outside, some straighten-ing chairs, and others moving around to fix flower arrangements.

Victoria had parked the car and got out.

“Come on, we should go up before anyone sees you.” Sophie said, opening the door.

You had walked through the back entrance of the house, taking in the fine crown molding just like you did the first time you and Max had walked through here together.

“It’s a little much, no?” He asked.

“Well you only get married once.” You said placing your hand on the banister that lead upstairs.

“Just once? What if I want to marry you again?”

“Then next time you can choose,” You said before feeling his hand grip yours.

You knew that this venue wasn’t exactly Max’s style. A beach Caribbean wedding was the original plan, but it fell through with the wedding date being a month before the start of the season and still wanting to go on a two week honeymoon.

“Fine, castle it is.” Max placed a kiss on your forehead. “I get first choice on food when we talk to the caterer though.”

You knew exactly what Max would want to serve everyone, kebabs with a few Italian inspired dishes added in.

“Okay, but we’re doing family style since it’ll be easier. We just need to make sure to have a vegan option for Lewis.”

“You always think of everything.” You leaned in a little more into Max’s side giving your shoulders a small shrug.

“Thank the wedding planner for being able to do this in less than 5 months.” Both you and Max shared a chuckle before walking outside to take a look at where the actual wedding would take place.

You had gone up to the master bedroom to see the dress that you had picked out was already hanging on the white silk hanger, in the Ivory color that you had chosen all those months ago forgoing the Dutch tradition of wearing white. Pnina Tornai really knew how to design a wedding dress. It was mermaid style with defined lace detailing that had a bone in strapless corset top.

“My brother isn’t going to know what hit him.” Victoria said, as she stood there in a blush pink dress of her own choosing.

You smiled at her before she helped you put on the dress, lacing up the corset strings, and tightened them just enough so you could still breathe. She had fastened the strings at the end of the corset and then left saying that she was going to check on Max.

“Can you tell him that I’ll see him down there?” You asked her. She nodded back to you.

“I will.” Before leaving the room.

Sophie had come in when you were putting in a pair of Van Cleef mother of pearl butterfly stud earrings in white gold.

You saw her from the mirror in the vanity. She was wearing a navy off the shoulder dress that cut off just after her knees and in her hands she was holding a black box.

“Halo, Y/N.”

“Hi, Sophie.” She walked further into the room, closing the door behind her. She moved to sit to the left of you pulling up a chair, before moving the black velvet box into your lap.

“I know, normally in the Dutch tradition the mother of the grooms don’t give the bride a gift, but I wanted to give you something that I wore on my wedding day to Jos... My marriage to Max’s father wasn’t the happiest, but it was a testament to how strong I became as a person as a result of being married to him. Marriage isn’t an easy thing, it’s constant work, you must take the bad with the good while you are together.” She took in a shaky breath. “My son is going to be your teammate in life, love, and in parenting.” She paused.

“So, I’m giving you this as a reminder to love Max with everything that you have, and with my hope that you'll make sure to listen to one another, and to be there when times are the hardest.” She finished, and then encouraged you to open the box.

You had pulled the lid open to reveal a diamond tennis bracelet, made of single carat stones in a white gold setting.

“My mother had it made for me, and I want to give it to you, and if you and Max ever have a daughter, I thought you could pass it down to her.”

You were a little blown away.

“Sophie, are you sure you don’t want to give this to Victoria? I’m sure when Tom is ready they’ll-“She didn’t let you finish your sentence and started to shake her head no.

“I have many pieces that will one day be hers. This is just for you.” Sophie took the bracelet out of the box and clasped it around your left wrist.

You didn’t know how to say thank you for this. So, instead you reached over and hugged her. She had slowly pulled away from you, taking your hand.

“Come, my son won’t wait all day.” You lightly laughed, quickly slipping on the 3-inch nude suede crystal encrusted Louboutin shoes onto your feet.

Sophie had walked down the stairs with you and ushered you into the living room but not fast enough that you didn’t see Max, who was standing there with Daniel, Martijn, and Max’s childhood friend Jack.

You could hear Nico’s voice, “Just walk and hold the pillow?”

“Yes, and when we need them, Daniel will ask for them. Just like in practice.”

“Okay Papa.” Nico said up to Max. “But why is Mama’s ring so sparkly?”

“Because Mama deserves a ring that’s pretty but not prettier than she is.” Hearing Max say that made a flash of tears fill up your eyes.

You only had a few moments before Sophie needed to walk out there before Max. You couldn't help but be a little nervous about walking down the aisle.

“Sophie,” Y/N said to her as they walked out of the room, hand in hand before the music started playing for her to walk down the aisle. “I just want to thank you. Thank you for raising Max the way that you did, and being there for him when Nico came into his life.”

You could see that Sophie was starting to tear up a bit. “My son loves you, and my grandson too. I couldn’t have asked for a better wife to my son even if I had a hand in choosing her myself.”

You gave her a nod and then she hugged you, pulling you in a little tight. She gave one of your hands a squeeze before walking out of the room, making sure to give you the bouquet of tulips, peonies, and hydrangeas all in shades of white or blue.

You could hear some of the music start from outside, with the hallway slowly clearing out after that.

Nico going first, hoping that he remembered to sit next to Tom just like at the rehearsal, and then with your friends moving to clasp arms with Martijn, and Jack. Victoria and Daniel went last as Maid of Honor and Best Man.

Sophie was supposed to walk out next with Max but you could hear her through the wall.

“I’m surprised that you’re not nervous.” She spoke.

“Nervous? No, everything feels right, like it should. I just want to see her.” You heard Max say.

“You will, and she looks beautiful.”

“Thank you for everything Mum, really.”

“She makes you happy, that is all a mother could want for her son.”

It fell quiet after that. The only sound was coming from outside, there was a key change and then the sound of an orchestral rendition of Lana Del Rey’s Young and Beautiful started to play.

That was your cue.

You had made your way out of the living room towards the doors that lead out into the lawn, through the open doors and saw everyone sitting there. You could see people from your side of the family, friends, co-workers, and Lewis (who insisted on sitting on your side of the aisle) sitting on the left side. Then on the right you could see a mix of Max’s family, the guys on the grid & Sebastian Vettel, some of the engineers from Red Bull, a few of the Team Redline guys, and then Christian and Geri who were sitting in the front row with Sophie, Tom, Nico, Luka, and Leo.

You looked down the aisle to see Max standing there, in a fitted black suit, giving you a watery smile, with a few tears falling from his eyes.

You gripped your bouquet tighter trying to move at the same pace of the song. You wanted to already be up there, standing next to Max.

A few more short steps before you were looking at Max, his eyes a watery blue, with a wide smile across his face.

You took a step up on the small platform, now standing next to Max. You gave him a reassuring smile.

Both you and Max looked at one another before the officiant started.

“Hello everyone,” The graying man said into the mic. “We are all gathered here today before friends, family, and loved ones to bring together Max and Y/N. By being here today in front of close friends and family, they are making a lasting commitment to one another, to love, to be present, to always listen to the other, to fight every battle as if they are one team, one family, to love the other with pure adoration, understanding, and a spark that doesn’t diminish over time.”

There was a silent moment before he continued, “I would like Max and Y/N to join hands for this next part so they may exchange vows and rings.”

You leaned down a little to hand over your bouquet to Victoria, who happily took it from your hands.

You stepped towards Max, mouthing a small, “Hi.”

He gave you a silent chuckle and a, “Hello.” back clasping your hands together.

“And the rings please,” The officiant asked, looking at Daniel.

Daniel gave a small shake of his head, silently saying that he didn’t have them and then pretended to check his pockets until Nico came up behind Daniel and pulled them out of one of the front pockets of Daniel’s suit.

Max laughed slightly, shaking his head at Daniel before the rings were in the officiant’s hands. You let out a small chuckle, same old Daniel. You had hoped that he would put his antics to rest on this one day.

“A circle is a symbol of Unity, Infinity, wholeness as well as eternal love. By wearing these rings, you are promising to uphold all of these meanings to one another from this day, until you’re last. Y/N if you will please?” He asked holding his hand open for her to take Max’s ring in her hand to slip it onto his finger.

“Max,” She started feeling the weaved carbon fiber that made up the design of his ring, slipping it onto his left hand. “I don’t know what my life would be like without you and Nico in it. I feel the most loved when I’m with you, and I feel lucky every day that you trust me, can joke around with me, and let me be your shoulder to lean on when you need it.”

She took in a small breath, “I’m in awe of the loyalty that you have for people, and then I remember that I’m one of those few lucky people who has it too. I love you; I just love everything about you, how you are never anything but yourself to people, that you're honest with everyone that you meet, and loving, to your sister, mom, nephews, our cats, and your son.”

You looked from Max to Nico, outstretching your hand towards Nico, asking him to walk closer to you so he could stand up on the altar with you and Max. You waited until Nico stood at your side and reached his little hand up to hold yours.

“Your son, our son means so much to me,” You could see that Max’s eyes were welling up with more tears. You kept a strong hold on Max’s hand while leaning down towards Nico, talking directly to him.

“Nico, I may not have been there when you were born, or when you experienced a few of your firsts. Regardless of those things, you’ll always be my son, and I won’t let anything, or anyone change that.”

Nico was quick to reach for you, wrapping his arms around the lace fabric at the bottom of the dress. “Mama.” You could hear him sob. He tightened his hold around your knees, and you looked up at Max seeing him give you the biggest watery smile that he could manage and pressed his lips together to stop his tears from falling.

You placed a kiss on Nico's forehead and then did your best to stand, but he didn’t let you go with his hands still on the skirt of your dress.

“You and our son are my family, and that will always come first to me. I promise to make this last, through every argument, every night spent away from one another, and every child that we may have in the future.” You finished off taking in a shaky breath.

The officiant just stood there and held out his hand for Max to start.

Max blinked trying to clear the tears from his eyes and then cleared his throat. “I remember when we first met,” He started and took a pause. “You told me that if something matters… I’d make time for it. I was surprised that you had given me a chance, and had been so patient with me, letting me set the pace through those eight months.” It had been hard, letting Max set the pace of the relationship early on. But you have been patient with him because you felt like he was worth waiting for. You felt him grip your hand tighter, his thumb tracing over your fingers like a track that he could drive in his sleep. “This was all before you had found out about Nico, when we were still trying to make us work, flying from London to Monaco just to spend a few hours together, it was also before you had become Nico’s mum.”

As Max spoke you could feel that he wasn’t as nervous to tell you these things. He wasn’t as nervous to let you know what going through those things was like for him.

“Once you found out about Nico, I felt like I had finally found someone who I could let myself be goofy and joke with. You understand me without me having to tell you things. You don’t push me to talk about things unless I let you. You are my lioness, my mijn leeuwin, protecting our cub, and building us a home while I’m off racing. You are the barrier from the outside world where I don’t have to worry about anything else. I know that you’re there, waiting for me to come home, always.”

Max had reached for the diamond encrusted ring, slowly slipping it onto your finger and then lifted your hand up to his lips placing a kiss on top of the band. He pulled away and you ran a finger over his chin feeling the light stubble under your finger. He gave you a big smile to the point where his eyes crinkled at the sides and watched as his lips slightly trembled.

“I promise to protect that with everything that I have, never take you for granted, to always listen to you, and make you feel like you are the most important thing to me, more than any trophy, or the miles that may separate us when I’m gone.”

“I love you.” You whispered to him when you felt a single tear fall down your cheek.

There were a few silent beats, almost as if the words needed to sink in before the officiant started again.

“Do you Y/N take Max to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day on, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” The officiant asked.

“I do.” You said without any hesitation in your voice.

“And do you Max, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day on, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickedness and in health, until death do you part?”

“Yes, I do.” Max smiled wide with his words.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The officiant said and then took a small step back. “You can kiss the bride.”

Max took a small step forward and then you did as well. Your lips met Max’s with his hand holding your waist and then dropping to the back of your dress running over the lace detailing and ribbon that made up the back of the corset. Your arms went around his neck pulling him in deeper. The hoots and hollers from the crowd muffled in your ears.

A few seconds later you could feel Nico’s hand drop from the skirt of your dress before you and Max pulled away from each other. You looked out to see that Nico was standing next to Sophie now before you felt Max take your hand so you could walk inside. Max took a few steps and then helped you down from the altar so you didn’t trip in your shoes.

Half an hour after the ceremony, the guests were already inside. Martin was behind the DJ booth with Lando standing by his side.

“I still don’t know why Y/N and Max didn’t take my offer to DJ the wedding?” Lando asked Martin.

“Maybe because I already offered, and it wasn’t as an exchange for a wedding gift.” He said turning down the EQ levels to the track that was playing.

Lando just shook his head before taking a sip of his drink.

“Has anyone seen the bride and groom yet?” Daniel asked Victoria and Tom who were standing a few meters away from Martin

“Not yet. Grand entrance and all.” Tom replied.

Daniel kept walking through the room, making his rounds as best man until he stopped at Sebastian and talked to him for a bit.

“Hey Seb,” Daniel greeted him.

“Daniel,” He greeted the Aussie with a hug.

“Max told me he wasn’t sure if you were gonna come.”

“Last minute RSVP. I wasn’t sure if I was at first. But happy that I could be here to see him settle down and get married.”

“He’s happy that you're here. Just waiting to see him and the Mrs. come down soon.”

“Well, before that, how do you feel about a little bet between former teammates?” Seb asked, placing his arm around Daniel’s shoulders.

“What have you got in mind?” Daniel said, leading Seb towards the bar. He saw Sophie come into the room from outside while holding Nico’s hand. The wedding photographer must have been done with them outside.

A few minutes later the music changed again and two sets of footsteps could be heard against the wood flooring. There was a loud cheer from all of the guests seeing Max and Y/N walk out from under the doorway.

From there the room broke out in upbeat music with people eating and drinking, with people breaking into little groups of conversation while occasionally walking over to the bride and groom to give them their congratulations.

The second course had been placed down on the tables and everyone was sitting in their seats with Daniel moving to stand to the right of Max.

Daniel gave a loud whistle trying to get everyone’s attention as they were all finally sitting down. “Thanks, thank you.” He started to say before moving to pick up his champagne glass.

“Hey guys, to those of you who don’t know me, I’m Daniel. The best man,” He said, holding the mic up to his lips with his free hand.

“I just wanted to get on here and say a few words about the bride and groom. Maybe a little more the groom then the bride, sorry Y/N.” Daniel saw her give him a little shrug. She didn’t take it personally.

“So yeah, Max. We’ve known each other a long time, since before you first started driving in F1, I think you were like 12?” Daniel joked knowing that Max was 13 the first time they met. “I couldn’t imagine then when we first met that I would be able to be the best man at your wedding to the fox that you just married,” The crowd gave off a few hollers and Daniel could see that Y/N only slightly shook her head at his comment with a light pink flush painting her cheeks. “You were a scrawny awkward looking kid when I met you, and now look at you. Married with a kid. I would be lying if I said there weren’t bets placed today on when there is going to be another one.”

There was a small round of chuckles heard from a few of the drivers in attendance.

“But I digress, mate, you’ve got yourself a good one there.” Daniel further raised his glass. “Y/N, you make Max happy, I just want to let you know that you’ve married into a family that not only loves you but has truly welcomed you with open arms. I hope Max, that you know how lucky you are to have her in your life. Women like her don’t come around every day.”

“To many more years for the two of you, to Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen.” Daniel finished off before everyone took a drink from their glasses.

A few moments later Victoria stood up next to Y/N and started her speech.

“To those of you who don’t know me, I’m not only Y/N’s Maid of Honor but I’m also Max’s little sister. I just wanted to officially welcome Y/N to the family, and let you know how excited I am to have a sister-in-law. I heard a lot about you when you and Max had first started dating. He would always want to talk about you, and when you met Nico it only seemed like he started to talk about you even more. Having said that, Max I love you. But if you screw this up, I get to keep her in the divorce.”

Max let out a big laugh and then reached for Y/N’s hand. She looked at him and he gave her a fake questioning look that said, Something I don’t know about. She just shook her head at him and then Max smiled at Victoria knowing that she was only joking.

“I don’t plan on letting that happen,” He interjected and heard a few chuckles from the rest of the wedding party. Max reached for Y/N’s hand and lightly kissed the back of it.

Victoria let out a laugh, “Regardless, as we’ve gotten to know each other really well over the years. You have truly become like a sister to me, being a sympathetic ear when I need it when it comes to the kids, and always being someone that I can rely on.” Victoria lifted up her glass, “To my brother and sister-in-law.”

Everyone drank from their glasses and Nico and Victoria’s boys drank from the little glasses filled with sparkling apple cider that mimicked the champaign.

Martin had stepped away from the DJ setup with an announcement of the first dance for the bride and groom with Geri taking the mic. Y/N’s eyes widened seeing Geri holding the mic as Max took her hand and led her to the center of the dance floor. Max pulled her into his chest as Geri’s voice filled the room to Ed Sheeran’s Perfect playing as they swayed to the music with him occasionally spinning her.

The song was coming to a slow close when Nico had walked up trying to slip between his parents. Max lifted Nico, dancing with them for a moment. Then set Nico down so he could dance with Y/N for a few moments while he went to dance with Sophie for the next song.

Nico ran off when the song had ended and Christian had walked onto the dance floor. “Do you mind Y/N?”

“Of course not Christian.” She said before he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ve heard it plenty of times in the last few days but you’re good for him. Not when it comes to him racing but just for who he is as a person.”

She gave Christian a nod, “He’ll never tell you this, but you’re a second set of parents to him,” She said gesturing to Max who had pulled Sophie onto the dance floor, “and a great grandfather to Nico.”

Christian gave her a nod back and then turned his head to see Daniel standing there.

“Father daughter dance is over. Mind if I cut in?”

“There has been a lot of cutting in.” Y/N said to Daniel.

“You’re in a room full of F1 drivers, it’s going to happen quite a lot.” Y/N rolled her eyes at him and then let Daniel pull her in. Christian walked back to his table and offered his hand up to Geri.

Max had pulled Y/N away from the dancefloor after the fifth driver on the grid had pulled her in to dance with them so that the wedding cake could finally be cut. It was a three tier white cake with the groom in a race suit that was fashioned to look like a tuxedo and the bride standing at his side.

They both managed to interlock their arms taking a bite from the cake, Max’s lips covered in the white ganache frosting and then she lifted the plate to his face and let it smear all over his skin trying to avoid his eyes.

The plate fell away and he had a devious expression on his face and she knew that she was in trouble. He reached for her and pressed a cake covered kiss to her lips before wiping any of the excess cake from their faces.

They left to clean up further and came back to the party with Daniel having the photographer's camera in his hand. He started taking candid photos. Daniel had gotten a picture of most of the wedding party and went looking for Max and Y/N after they had disappeared for a little too long to see them making out by the service entrance to the house and snapped a quick picture before leaving them to their fun.

It was a while later that Max and Y/N rejoined the party long enough to throw the bouquet out into the crowd of young “single” women; Daniel’s longtime girlfriend of two years had caught it and then they made a final round of all the guests before leaving the party. Daniel was the only one whose eyes went to the couple noticing Y/N’s hair fall out of her pin backed look.

“Have a nice time.” Sophie said as Nico stood with his parents holding her hand.

“We will,” Y/N said before Nico reached for her as he pressed his face into the skirt of her dress.

“We’ll be home in two weeks, be good for Oma, okay?” Y/N asked Nico. As they left to get into the car to leave for the hotel for their early morning fight, Nico gave her a nod and hugged Max with a silent goodbye hanging in the air, giving his parents a final wave.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127, @mysticalnightenthusiast, @green-thots, @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp, @ellelabelle, @lilypat, @dreamercrowd

#Mini Verstappen Series #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #mv33 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine

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heliosunny · 2 days ago

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CALEB AT MEOW'S CAFE - Part 2

Caleb had been acting strange for days.

At first, you chalked it up to his usual grumpy possessiveness. He had always been overprotective, his eyes darkening whenever customers got too friendly with you. But this was different.

His body was tense all the time, his ears twitching at the smallest sounds. His tail flicked erratically, never still, like he was constantly on edge.

Then came the moments where he completely froze mid-shift, mid-sentence, even mid-step, his breath catching like he was trapped in his own body. You’d catch him gripping the nearest surface, his jaw clenched as if he were in pain. But when you asked him what was wrong, he only muttered a low, “Nothing. I’m fine” and walked away. But he wasn’t.

And when you caught him collapsing behind the counter after the café closed, you knew something was seriously wrong.

“Caleb!” you rushed to his side, heart pounding as you knelt beside him. His entire body was trembling, his breath coming in ragged pants. His ears were flattened against his head, and his tail lashed wildly behind him.

His fingers dug into the floor like he was holding himself back from something.

“Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, strained. His pupils were huge, swallowing the purple of his irises.

“What’s happening to you?” you demanded, gripping his shoulders. His skin was burning hot, like he had a fever.

Caleb groaned, his tail curling around his waist in a feeble attempt to contain his erratic movements. “It’s… too much” he gritted out. “The sounds. The scents. The way you..” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, his fingers flexing.

Your brows furrowed in concern. “The way I what?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Everything about you” he muttered. “Your voice, your scent, your presence—it’s driving me insane.” His eyes squeezed shut as his ears twitched violently. “I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell every little shift in your emotions. My whole body...” He let out a frustrated growl, his hands curling into fists. “I can’t turn it off.”

Realization dawned on you. This wasn’t just some random sickness. His new feline instincts, his heightened senses were completely overloading him.

“Caleb” you whispered, your hand resting against his cheek. His skin was searing. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He exhaled sharply at your touch, his tail snapping against the floor. “Because if I focus on you, it gets worse.”

Determined to find a cure, you dragged Caleb (still unsteady but grumbling the whole way) back to the fortune teller’s booth the next morning.

The old woman was exactly where you’d last seen her, sipping tea like she’d been waiting for you.

She hummed in amusement as her eyes landed on Caleb’s trembling form. “I see the overload has begun.”

“You knew this would happen?” Caleb growled, his ears flattening.

She chuckled. “Of course. Your body wasn’t meant to handle such heightened senses without balance. You’re fighting them, aren’t you?” She leaned forward, smirking. “Suppressing what your body wants?”

Caleb tensed beside you, his tail bristling.

Your cheeks burned. “How do we fix it?”

The old woman sipped her tea, as if this were the most casual conversation in the world. “The curse is tied to denial” she explained. “He’s overwhelmed because he’s constantly holding back—refusing to embrace what his body craves. The longer he fights it, the worse it’ll get.”

You frowned. “So what does he need to do?”

The old woman’s gaze flicked between the two of you. Then, with a sly smile, she said, “He needs to ground himself. Focus on one thing that stabilizes him, that soothes the chaos in his mind.”

Caleb scoffed. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to be?”

The old woman’s smirk deepened. “You already know.”

The air in your apartment was thick with tension. Caleb sat on the edge of your couch, his head in his hands, his tail curled tightly around his thigh. His whole body vibrated with restraint.

You sat beside him, unsure how to approach this. “Caleb… what are you feeling right now?”

His jaw tightened. “Like I’m burning.” His hands curled into fists. “Like if I don’t find something to focus on, I’ll—” He exhaled sharply, ears twitching as his fingers dug into the couch. “Lose myself.”

Your chest tightened. “And what do you want to focus on?”

His breath hitched. His fingers twitched.

Slowly, he turned to face you.

“…You.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I—” He swallowed hard, his tail flicking anxiously. “Whenever you touch me, or talk to me, or even just look at me...it’s like I can breathe again.” His eyes darkened. “You’re the only thing that doesn’t feel too much.”

Heat spread through your cheeks. You weren’t sure what to say.

So instead, you reached out, cupping his cheek.

Caleb shuddered. His ears twitched violently, his tail loosening.

You brushed your thumb over his jaw. “Does this help?”

He exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch. “Yes.”

Emboldened, you let your fingers trail up, brushing one of his sensitive cat ears.

A low sound rumbled in his throat, half a sigh, half a growl. His tail flicked around your wrist, a silent plea.

Something deep inside you knew this was dangerous territory. But if this was the only way to help him, if this was what he needed.

You moved closer, letting your fingers trace the base of his ears, feeling the way he melted under your touch.

His hands snapped up, gripping your waist. Not pulling, just holding, grounding himself. His eyes were wild, desperate. “More” he whispered, his voice strained.

You complied.

Your fingers traced through his hair, smoothing over the sensitive nerves at the base of his ears. His tail curled around your leg, a soft, lingering claim.

And then, without thinking, you whispered, “I’ll be your anchor.”

In an instant, his lips were on yours, hot, desperate, needy. His grip tightened around you, as if afraid you’d disappear. His tail wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer.

The moment was dizzying, overwhelming, but not for him.

For the first time in days, Caleb’s body relaxed. The tension melted from his muscles, his senses stabilizing as he buried himself in you.

The overload was gone.

And as he pulled back, panting, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “You’re the only thing that makes this bearable.”

Your fingers curled into his uniform. “Then I’ll stay with you.”

His tail tightened around you. “Good” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Because now that he’d found his anchor, he wasn’t letting go.

#lnds caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #love and deep space #caleb x reader

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joyful-soul-collector · 2 days ago

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It'll Be Fine: Chapter 1

Summary:

It’ll be fine. It didn't have to be bad this time. He could dress as warm as possible, he could start paying to take the tram. It would hurt his wallet but he wouldn't have to be cold for as long. And that was ideal. Anything to stay out of the cold. OR Jayce is terrified of winter. But he has a crush on his lab partner, Viktor. So when Viktor invites him to a winter festival, Jayce decides he can brute force his way through the night, just like he does with everything else.

Tag List: @ihavea-natural-curiosity @milkywaysipper @fangirlshenanigans04 @voxconcordia @beetpatchkids @amiableamos (let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list!)

Link to Ao3!

Trigger Warnings: anxiety/phobia/PTSD surrounding the cold and winter

Winter came to Piltover like a shadow. Dark, and silent, blocking out the warm sun’s light. Jayce had been eyeing the skies for a couple weeks now. It'd been a few months since he started his research with Viktor under Heimerdinger's supervision. He loved it so far, he really did. There was something so nice about finally meeting someone who had the same passion and drive for science that he did. He hadn’t realized it was something he was missing before.

But more and more recently, he wished he didn't have to come to the lab. It meant having to walk through the city of Piltover, watching the sky grow darker and feeling the air grow colder every day. Snow had yet to show its ugly face, but it wouldn't be long now.

Well… not anything, not anymore. In years past, there would be days where he was far too terrified to step foot outside, he’d miss classes, miss events, all to avoid what he was certain was a frozen wasteland outside his front door.

But he couldn’t do that this time. Not with so much on the line. Not with Viktor waiting for him at the lab.

He never wanted to miss a day with him.

It’ll be fine.

This is what he thought over and over, as a mantra when he walked out the door and headed to the labs. If he just told himself it’ll be fine, there was no real reason for it to not be fine, right? Even as a chilly breeze blew against his neck, and his hands started to go numb from the cold air. Seeing his breath fog in the air was enough to send his heart pounding but he made it to the lab soon enough to keep his panic at bay.

He must've shut the door to the lab a bit harder than he thought because Viktor looked up at him with a start, pulling up his goggles. His honey-amber eyes looked Jayce up and down analytically, just as they looked at everything in this world.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, it's just freezing out there,” Jayce said, putting on a smile and a laugh. It felt tight on his face and in his throat, like wearing a coat that was too small. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, walking further into the warmth of the room.

“I suppose so,” Viktor said with a shrug. “It could be colder, I've always liked winter. At least, in Piltover. Winter in the Undercity is miserable.”

“I bet,” Jayce said, putting on another tight laugh, and internally wondering how the hell one could possibly like winter. “What are we working on today?”

“Well the hexgates blueprints need adjusting as the rune combination doesn't seem quite right…”

And with that Jayce soon forgot all about the coming winter outside. It was always easy to forget his worries in the lab with Viktor. He could let his mind be carried away by calculations and theories, and Viktor always helped fan the fire in his heart for science. Viktor himself was always nice to be around too. His mind was nothing short of beautiful.

But as the sun started to go down, Jayce felt the anxiety creep in again. When the sun went down it was colder. Much colder, and he still had to walk home. Normally he'd be fine staying up late, maybe even sleeping in the lab, but… It would be pathetic, wouldn't it? Sleeping in the lab just because he was afraid of the cold? And it was stupid, being afraid of the cold anyway. He can go out, go home, it'll be fine.

Especially if he left before the sun went down. It'll be fine.

Viktor looked up as Jayce began gathering his things.

“Heading out? Already?” he asked.

“Oh--Yeah I-I should probably head home before it gets too dark,” Jayce said, cringing slightly at the shake in his voice. Why did it do that, there's no need for it to do that.

“Oh,” Viktor said, sounding a little disappointed. Jayce’s heart fluttered a little, excited by the idea that maybe Viktor didn’t want him to leave. “Well before you go I meant to ask you something.”

Jayce turned around as Viktor stood up and walked over to him, fishing something out of his pocket. He handed it to Jayce with a smile.

“It is a winter festival,” Viktor said, pointing to the flyer. “It's in a week, I wondered if you might want to attend?”

Jayce swallowed. A winter festival. Of all things. Sure, Jayce had been thinking, rather often, about being with Viktor outside the lab, but a winter festival? The flyer said it went from 6pm to midnight. Booths, food, games, ice sculptures even…

He thought he might be sick. It's okay, he can make up an excuse, maybe his mom is planning something for that night, or Caitlyn needs help with schoolwork, something like that, it would be fine, he could just--

He made the mistake of looking at Viktor's face. Goddammit if he didn't look so hopeful. His amber eyes were so excited, so eager, Jayce had only seen him look like this for the sake of science. Again his heart skipped a beat, knowing that he was looking at Jayce with the expression he normally reserved for arcane discoveries. He really wanted Jayce to come with him, didn't he?

“Sure,” Jayce said, trying his best to match Viktor's excitement. “It sounds like fun!”

Viktor grinned.

“I'm sure it will be!”

Viktor rambled on for a moment or two about the festival, how fun it was, how he’d discovered it his first year living in Piltover and came every year since. His excitement wasn’t enough to quell Jayce’s growing nausea at the idea, but he put on a tight smile again for Viktor’s sake. Eventually, he and Jayce said their goodbyes and Jayce started on his way home, doing his best to beat the sun on the way.

It'll be fine, he thought, trying to ignore the sharp air against his face. He could dress in layers. He could have a warm drink while he's there. There would probably be fires to stand by, he could bring his warmer to press against his chest before he leaves, he could bring gloves, make sure his hands never get too cold. Really, it would be fine.

Jayce thought up this plan and many others as he quickly walked home, making it in the door just as the sun set completely. His hands were numb again, and his chest felt cold from the icy air. He checked over his hands quickly, before shaking them out and walking to the sink, letting his hands run under the warm tap for a moment. He lit a fire under his chimney and set the kettle on the stove before wrapping himself tight in a blanket. He ignored how shaky his breath was, and did his best to forget about the ache in his muscles.

It couldn't get much colder in just a week, right?

#jayvik #jayce #viktor #jayce x viktor #jayvik fanfic #jayvik fanfiction #arcane #jayce arcane #viktor arcane #arcane tv show #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic

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msklassickilla · 2 days ago

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Prada You Chapter 20

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy. The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author’s Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warning: Please be advised that this chapter contains harsh/foul language, mentions of underage drinking, age gap relationships.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 19: Truth & Lies

August 4th 1998

The sun was blazing down, the humid summer air making the basketball court shimmer like a mirage. I sat at the picnic table under the patchy shade of a scraggly oak tree, fanning myself with a folded flyer someone had left behind. Kiyah and Natasha were across from me, chattering away, their voices weaving through the sound of kids shouting and sneakers squeaking against the blacktop.

Kiyah’s face lit up as she leaned forward, dropping her chin into her hands. "Okay, so let me tell y’all about Big Daddy Jacob."

"Ooh, spill!" Natasha said, her eyes glinting with excitement. "Y’all getting serious, or is he still just a good time?"

Kiyah grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Girl, I like him a lot. Like, for real. And that lil’ night we spent together. Let’s just say… I did what needed to be done."

I let out a laugh, shaking my head as Natasha clapped her hands together, squealing. "You’re too much, Kiyah."

"Oh, it gets better," Kiyah said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. "I’ll be moving into his pockets shortly. I need them probation fees paid a.s.a.p."

The three of us burst out laughing, the sound carrying across the court. For a moment, everything felt light and carefree, like the weight of the past few weeks had lifted just enough for us to breathe.

"Alright, Nye," Natasha said, turning her attention to me. "Enough about Kiyah’s sugah daddy adventures. What’s up with your party? You ready?"

I shrugged, though a small smile tugged at my lips. "I’m getting there. Jey’s handling most of it. He already rented out a nightclub downtown and took care of the decorations, food, and music. Like I didn’t have to do none of that. All I gotta do is find an outfit."

"A whole nightclub?" Kiyah’s eyes widened. "Damn. That shit gon’ be nice as fuck. Girl, you better show out. That’s gonna be a night to remember."

Natasha nodded enthusiastically. "For real. This is big. I just know everybody gone be there."

"That’s exactly what I was thinking. Party gon’ be full as hell especially with all the boys being there," I replied, my smile faltering slightly. Outwardly, I was as excited as they were, but deep down, something wasn’t sitting right. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was coming, like a storm I couldn’t see but could feel in the air.

I pushed the thought aside, forcing myself to focus on the present. "It’ll be fun," I said, my voice firmer this time. "We just gotta make sure our outfits is on point."

The girls squealed; their excitement infectious. Kiyah reached over to slap my arm. "Don’t even stress it. We all gon’ look bomb. That’s our night to shut shit down."

---

August 5th 1998

The next day, I was standing at the sink, up to my elbows in soapy water, when I heard the front door open. Mama’s voice floated in, tired but warm. "Nyeya, finish those dishes and come talk to me."

"Okay, Mama," I called back, rinsing off the last plate and setting it in the drying rack. Wiping my hands on a towel, I made my way to the living room, where she was sitting on the couch, her shoes kicked off and her hair tied up in a scarf. She patted the cushion beside her, and I sat down, the heaviness in her gaze immediately putting me on edge.

She reached out, gently caressing my face. "You been alright?"

"Yeah, Mama. Why?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. My stomach churned, sensing that whatever was coming wasn’t going to be easy. The scratch on my face had begun to fade but I still felt uneasy under her watchful gaze.

Mama’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Nat told me she heard you and Kiyah was fighting at the arcade Saturday night."

My heart dropped. Nat had been a family friend for as long as I could remember, but I hadn’t expected her to run back to Mama with what she’d heard. How did that even get back to her to know that? Michael was right, eyes were everywhere.

"It wasn’t that serious," I said quickly, hoping to downplay the situation. "Just some girls running their mouths."

Mama’s eyes narrowed slightly. "And who’s this guy friend you’ve been running around with, the one you were supposed to be with?"

I froze, my mind racing. "He’s… he’s just a guy I’ve been seeing from around the way," I said vaguely, avoiding her gaze.

"Just a guy?" Mama’s voice was calm but firm, the kind of tone that demanded the truth. "How old is this guy, Nyeya?"

I hesitated, my hands twisting in my lap. "He’s… he’s 29."

Mama’s eyebrows shot up. "29? Nyeya, that’s a grown man."

"I know," I said quickly. "But he’s… he’s good to me. Jey don’t mean me no harm. Like he not using me like other guys would be, Mama."

Her expression softened slightly, but her eyes remained serious. "Is Jey the one you’ve been spending the night with? You should’ve known it was going to get back to me eventually."

She knew more than I thought. I swallowed hard, realizing there was no point in lying now. "Yes," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t believe all my bones was falling out the closet like this.

Mama sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Nyeya, I was your age once. I know how easy it is to get caught up, especially with a man who makes you feel like the world is yours. But you have to be careful. You have to be smart."

"I am," I said, tears stinging my eyes. "Mama, I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want you to be mad at me."

I hated disappointing my mama. She did so much for us. I knew who Jey was and if she knew the whole story, she’d definitely have good reason to be.

She reached out, pulling me into a hug. "I’m not mad, baby. I just want you to be honest with me. Lies don’t make things easier, they make them harder. And more than that, I want you to be careful. I’ve seen what this life can do. I’ve lived it. Your daddy… he was just like this man you’re seeing. And look where he ended up."

The mention of my father hit me like a punch to the gut. Mama rarely talked about him, but when she did, it was always a reminder of the risks that came with the life he chose. Slim had been the love of her life until a drug sting when I was two snatched him away. She had moved on, but the scars of that time still lingered.

"I know," I whispered, my voice shaky. "I promise I’ll be careful. And if it gets to be too much… I’ll leave."

Mama pulled back, her hands resting on my shoulders. "I just want you to be happy, Nyeya. Don’t let no man dim your light. Don’t give him that type of power. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, and I’m not gonna let anyone take that from you. You shouldn’t either."

I nodded, tears slipping down my cheeks. "I promise, Mama. You taught me to want better, to expect better. I won’t let you down."

She smiled softly, brushing a thumb over my cheek. "Good. Now, when am I gonna meet this Jey? Time for you to stop hiding him."

The question caught me off guard, but I managed a small smile. "Soon," I said. "I’ll talk to him about it."

Mama sighed, her tone softening even more. "Nyeya, I’m serious. If he’s the man you’re giving your time to, I need to know who he is and what he's all about. I don’t want you caught up in something you can’t get out of."

The conversation ended better than expected, but as I went back to my room, a heaviness settled over me. Mama’s words lingered in my mind, a reminder of the fine line I was walking. Jey had made it clear—ain’t no leaving. And deep down, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. But I couldn’t ignore the growing sense that this life, as thrilling as it was, came at a price I wasn’t ready to pay.

August 7th 1998

Friday night rolled around, and the air buzzed with the vibrant energy of summer. The Prada Bois’ car show was in full swing, taking over a sprawling parking lot at the park by the lake. The hum of car engines mixed with music blasting from the speakers that surrounded the DJ, and the scent of grilled meats and fresh panipopo hung in the humid air. Kids shrieked with laughter as they jumped in bounce houses, while groups of men hovered around their tricked-out cars, showing off gleaming paint jobs and customized interiors.

I arrived with Kiyah, Natasha, and Nataya. The twins had borrowed their mother’s car for the night under the guise of them going to some youth night at church, and Kiyah had wasted no time calling shotgun. I had squeezed into the back seat with Nataya, the four of us hyped for the night ahead. I wore my red bandeau top and favorite Tommy Hilfiger overalls, my gold bracelet from Jey gleaming on my wrist like a mark of loyalty—or ownership. A reminder that it always held more weight than it probably should have.

The scene was alive when we stepped out of the car. Bright headlights from parked cars cast long shadows, and the glow of string lights wrapped around tents gave the whole place a festive feel. Kiyah spotted Jacob leaning casually against a shiny black Impala, his Prada Boi chain glinting under the streetlights. She shot me a grin before making a beeline for him. Natasha, always drawn to the music, drifted towards the DJ, her hips already swaying to the beat.

That left me with Nataya, who didn’t even glance back as she marched straight to the food tables.

“Girl, you must be hungry?” I teased, catching up to her.

She shot me a grin over her shoulder. “You already know. Don’t act like you don’t be eating too.”

I laughed, shaking my head. By the time I caught up, Nataya was piling her plate high with barbecue ribs, potato salad, baked beans, and a generous helping of sapasui. Then she grabbed another plate and added grilled chicken, panipopo, and fresh taro.

“Two plates?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as we found a spot at one of the picnic tables. She was really taking advantage of the free food.

Nataya plopped down, balancing the plates with ease. “Baby, yes. Jimmy put me on to the island food. I gotta taste everything,” she said with a wink before digging in.

I sat across from her, my appetite gone as I watched her eat with enthusiasm. My gaze lingered on her oversized shirt and shorts, a far cry from Natasha’s mini dress. Her face seemed fuller; her movements slower. Something felt different.

“Nye, you okay?” Nataya asked, noticing my stare. “Why you not eating? You don’t like it?”

I hesitated, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “You on your period?”

I didn’t mean to say it out loud but the thoughts tumbling in mind had me curious. I needed some answers.

Her fork paused mid-air. “What? Why?”

“You just… seem different,” I said, trying to sound casual. “And you’re eating like you ain’t had food all day.”

Nataya laughed, shaking her head. “Girl, I always eat like this. You know that.”

That much was true, but something about her felt… off. I decided not to push it. If she had something to tell me, she would, eventually. But for her sake, I hope it wasn’t what I thought it was.

After we finished eating, I let the party pull me in. The music was too good to ignore, and I found myself bouncing in the inflatable castle with some of the kids, laughing like I didn’t have a care in the world. When the DJ switched to a 90s R&B mix, Natasha dragged me to the makeshift dance floor. I let the rhythm take over, swaying and spinning, losing myself in the moment.

Then I felt it—a heavy, piercing gaze. My eyes scanned the crowd and landed on Damian. He sat near a lineup of cars, one woman perched on his lap and another leaning into him, her hand grazing his arm. But his eyes were locked on me, dark and unreadable.

A chill ran down my spine. I turned away, focusing on the music and Natasha’s carefree moves. Loyalty, I reminded myself. My loyalty was to Jey. Damian was just… history.

Kiyah joined us not long after, her hand clasped in Jacob’s. She leaned in close, her voice low. “Taya’s not drinking. She wouldn’t take a shot with me. That ain’t like her ass.”

“But she’s eating though,” I replied, glancing over at where Nataya was now chatting with a group of women. My only suspicion deepened.

Kiyah and I exchanged a knowing look. “Her ass bet not be pregnant,” Kiyah muttered. “You know they mama, Ms. Deedria, don’t play like that.”

“It’s looking like she is,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “And if she is… that’s crazy. I thought it would be yo’ ass to have baby first.”

Before Kiyah could respond, the growl of engines turned our attention to the lot’s entrance. Jey and Jimmy had arrived, their cars gleaming under the lights. For once, Jey wasn’t intoxicated. He looked calm, clear-headed, and… grounded as he exited his car. His eyes found mine immediately, and he motioned for me to come over.

I nodded to the others before sliding his way. My heart fluttered as I approached him. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. He kissed me, his lips warm and familiar. “You look good,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling up at him.

We lingered in our own little world for a moment before he led me to a quieter spot. As he ate, he brought up something that made my chest tighten.

“When am I meeting moms?” he asked casually.

I had told him the day before that my mama knew who he was and that we were dating. I didn’t expect him to be so eager to meet her though. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted him to meet her.

“Soon,” I said. “Probably on my birthday. She always does something special for me.” We would normally celebrate along with my granny, Bernice, and some of my other family.

Jey nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That works. But I’ve been thinking. After your birthday, you should move in with me. Ain’t no point in you staying at your mama’s place no more.”

The words hit me like a brick. “Move in?” I repeated, my voice shaky. “Jey, that’s… that’s a lot. And a bit fast.” Jey was talking crazy.

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “How is it a lot? You already spending nights with me. Got some of yo’ clothes there as well. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is my mama and Michael,” I said. “I can’t just leave them. Michael’s heading to high school. And I be there when Ma work overnight to make sure he good.”

I did other stuff to make my mama life easier. She worked full-time and also did hair on the side. I couldn’t just leave her especially for Jey who I only knew for two months. I loved Jey but that was too much of a commitment too soon.

Jey’s jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his eyes. “Michael’s damn near grown. He can take care of himself. You gotta let him be a man. And I’m sure ya mama will be good.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been thinking about enrolling in community college this fall,” I said. “And maybe getting a part-time job. Just to have stuff to fill my time with.”

I had plans before I met Jey and I wasn’t trying to change them just because I was his girl now.

Jey’s hand brushed over the bracelet on my wrist, his touch both possessive and tender. “You can go to school, but you don’t need to work. I’ll take care of you, Nye. You know that. I need you with me though. I got us.”

His words should’ve reassured me, but they didn’t. I forced a nod, my mind swirling with doubts. We had been doing good. So, I choose not to argue.

As I glanced around the party, my thoughts wandered. The other Prada Boi wives and girlfriends seemed happy, but were they really? I watched Solo dancing with his girlfriend, Bronson laughing with his wife and kids, and Nataya sitting in Jimmy’s lap as he rubbed her stomach.

Was this truly the life I wanted? The question lingered, heavy and unanswered, as the party carried on around me.

---

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the parking lot as the streetlights flickered to life. The sounds of laughter and music filled the air, and the occasional rev of a car engine reminded everyone of the reason for the gathering. I leaned against a picnic table looking at nothing in particular, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had been growing in my chest since Jey’s earlier suggestion.

"Nye," Jey’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his hand extended toward me. "Come here. Stop thinking so much. Go have some fun, baby."

I hesitated, then let him pull me into a hug. His arms were warm and firm, but they didn’t ease the tension inside me. I wanted to believe in him, in us, but doubts still lingered. I told myself to let it go, at least for tonight. The party was winding down, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Jey kissed the top of my head before pulling away. He glanced toward the lineup of cars and nodded. "I’ll be over there with Damian. Come find me if you need anything."

I watched him stroll away, his confident stride unmistakable even in the dim light. He stopped by the hood of a sleek black car where Damian was already perched, a bottle of beer in his hand. My stomach twisted as I watched them exchange words. Their conversation looked serious, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Curiosity burned inside me, but I stayed rooted to my spot—until Jey’s eyes caught mine.

“Nye, come here,” he called out, his voice loud enough to rise above the chatter.

My heart raced. I told myself there was no reason to be nervous. Damian wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t dare. His ass bet not. That shit happened a long time ago. Forcing a smile, I walked over to them, my sandals clicking softly against the pavement. As I approached, Jey reached out and pulled me into his lap.

“Not you being anti-social, girl,” he teased, wrapping an arm around my waist. His tone was light, but I could feel Damian’s eyes on me.

Damian’s expression was unreadable. He took a slow sip of his beer before speaking. “Nyeya. Good to see you again.”

“You too,” I replied, keeping my tone polite. My guard was up, though, and I could feel the tension bubbling just beneath the surface. Don’t start no shit, won’t be no shit, sir.

Jey didn’t seem to notice. He leaned back against the car, completely at ease as he spoke to Damian about something— a deal, maybe, or plans for the weekend. I wasn’t paying attention. My focus was split between the warmth of Jey’s embrace and the cool detachment in Damian’s eyes. The moment felt like a game of chess, every word and gesture a calculated move.

Then she appeared. The woman from Tama’s pool party—the one who had been in Damian’s lap. She sidled up to him in a barely there dress, her hand resting possessively on his shoulder. Damian’s lips curled into a smirk as he introduced her.

“This is Dulce,” he said casually. “Dulce, this is Nyeya. Jey’s girl.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a polite smile. Dulce nodded, her attention quickly returning to Damian, who didn’t seem to mind.

Jey’s grip on my waist tightened slightly as if reminding me where I belonged. The conversation shifted to lighter topics as a few other Prada Bois wandered over, including Sami and Tama. They were laughing about something when Jey’s voice cut through the noise.

“By the way,” he said, his tone casual but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Nyeya’s gonna be moving in with me soon. My baby coming home for good.”

The group’s reaction was immediate. Cheers and congratulations erupted around us, with Tama slapping Jey on the back and Sami grinning broadly. “That’s what’s up, man,” one of them said.

I froze. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I forced a smile. Jey hadn’t discussed this with me— not really. He’d brought it up earlier, but I hadn’t agreed to anything. I mean I nodded but that wasn’t agreeance that was a ‘okay, whatever’ type of thing. And now here his ass was announcing it like it was a done deal. I couldn’t believe it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Damian’s reaction. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and the tension in his jaw was impossible to miss. When our eyes met, it felt like the air had been knocked out of me. There was an unspoken conversation happening between us, one that no one else could hear. I looked away quickly, feeling queasy.

Jey tilted his head to look at me. “You good, baby?”

I nodded, plastering the smile back on my face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

The party carried on around us, the laughter and music ringing hollow in my ears. As Jey chatted with the others, I leaned into his chest, letting his presence ground me. But my thoughts were a tangled mess. Damian’s warnings echoed in my mind, and for the first time, I wondered if I was in over my head. Even if I was, Jey wasn’t letting me go.

----

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sitkowski · 2 days ago

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time waits for me in bloom - nicholas ruffilo x cam (oc)

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x cam (OC) cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ gentle femdom, subby nicky, orgasm denial, chastity device (cock cage), praise kink, dirty talk, sexting (explicit pictures), oral sex (f receiving), handjobs, vaginal sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, they just love each other a lot word count: 4k author's note: here is the sequel to get me low (like a basement), aka this is nicky gets the cage. many thanks to illy for looking over this to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, i owe you my life boo 💓 title comes from "blue reverie" by erra. divider by @saradika-graphics 🔐

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups

Cam gets in late from the bar the second night Nicholas is gone on tour. It’s just her and the cats, and she’s glad for their company while he’s away. She showers the smell of spilled beer and smoke off of herself, and then puts on a pair of sweats and one of Nicholas’ shirts before crawling into bed. She grabs her phone to text him, just to let him know that she made it in from work safe and sound. They had talked before the show and Cam had been a little amused at the little edge in his voice. He’d said he was fine, he was handling everything okay.

It’s only been two days.

When her phone pings with a notification, she’s expecting a goodnight or something. They’re still in the same time zone right now and she knows he’s probably going to be either sleeping soon or bored while they travel. But when Cam opens the message thread, she sees that it’s a photo. And it’s not that she has any doubt whatsoever that he’s going to be wearing the cage like he told her would, but to see it like this is another thing entirely. It’s obvious that he’s locked himself in some gas station bathroom, where the lighting is terrible and there’s graffiti all over the stall door. All she can really see is his lower stomach, the little padlock that sits atop the cock cage, and a hint of the glittery silicone encasing him. Her mouth goes dry at the sight, and she has to think of what to say, what to do. Does she send him words of encouragement? Does she send him back a picture that will no doubt drive him a little crazy because he can’t do anything about it?

She makes a decision, shimmying out of her sweatpants so that she’s only in her underwear and Nicholas’ Labyrinth t-shirt. It takes her a minute to get comfortable and take the picture at the right angle. It’s not even that risque, not compared to what he just sent her, but she knows it’ll do the trick. Cam sends a second one right behind it, without the t-shirt, so that he can see the tiny gold key that goes to the lock on his cage where it hangs around her neck, sitting just above her breasts. This one, she attaches a message to.

Be good.

She doesn’t wait for a response, setting aside her phone and putting back on her clothes before picking up her book. And when nothing comes through her phone, she isn’t surprised either. Even with the silence, she knows that he’ll be good for her. She’s confident he’ll be able to handle the cage okay, and it’s not as if there’s any punishment if he can’t. Cam thinks he just wanted this challenge for himself, to see how deep into denial he could get with it. Of course there’s a part of her that likes the power having the key for the cage gives her.

It takes him four more days to crack, just a little. Cam wakes up in the middle of the night to her phone ringing. Her immediate thought is that something’s wrong, and she scrambles to answer. All she hears at first when she says his name is his choppy breathing, and panic swirls in her stomach.

“Nicky?”

“You gotta tell me, Camille,” he says, his voice strained. “You gotta tell me I can’t take it off.”

A little bit of relief settles in her, “Oh baby, are you hurting?”

She’s not sure where he is but he has to be alone if he’s calling her like this. She hears a thud, which is probably him knocking his head against a door. She pictures him locking himself away in the hotel room bathroom, trying to be quiet so as not to be overheard while he struggles to get control.

“You’re doing so well Nicky, I’m so proud of you,” she says because she knows that’s what he needs to hear and it’s the truth. “You’re going to wear that cage. Eight more days and then you’re going to come home and I’m going to take such good care of you.”

“I’m losing my mind a little, fuck. All I want to do is—”

“No, Nicholas, listen to me.” Cam makes her voice a little more stern and she hears his sharp intake of breath. “You tell me right now if you want to safeword out, and then you’ll go and wake Noah up and tell him you want your key. Is that what you want?”

The sound of the call changes and she can tell he’s put her on speaker. She hears the sound of water running and splashing, and then after a minute, he finally speaks again. “You know you’re the smart one in this relationship, right?”

She makes a face that he can’t see, filing that away to deal with once he’s home. “You said you could do this for me. But maybe I want you to do this for you, Nicky.”

“Eight more days,” he says. He still sounds shaky, but it’s kind of unavoidable. “I can do eight more days.”

“You can. And if you can’t, that’s okay too. But I think you’re gonna be just fine.”

He laughs, a little hysterical. “Ask me again in eight days.”

Cam chooses then to distract him and ask him about the tour, and it seems to work for a little while. It doesn’t really matter to her that it’s the middle of the night, she’s happy to talk to him as long as he needs her to. Eventually, neither of them can stop yawning and they say goodnight to one another.

The next few days seem to fly by and as far as she can tell, he’s handling it okay. There aren’t any more middle of the night phone calls where he’s begging to be let out, at least. She even asks Noah, without really asking him, how Nicholas is holding up. And while Noah’s got the second key, he’d only taken it under the explicit instructions that he was given no absolute details. He has to know what it’s for, but he’s perfectly capable of pretending to be deaf, dumb and blind about the situation unless Nicholas tells him his safeword. There’s doing a favor for a friend, like holding the spare key to his chastity cage, and then there’s talking about it.

Cam decides to meet up with the tour on the last day to surprise Nicholas. She books a hotel room for them for after the show because she’s got a feeling they’re not going to make it out of the state before Nicholas gets the cage off. It’s surprisingly easy for her to convince him she’s still at home, even when she all but sneaks off to the venue to pick up the pass that Bryan left for her. Everyone knows that she’s there, and she manages to avoid being spotted by Nicholas at all. He doesn’t even realize that she’s side stage.

It’s obvious how the cage is affecting him, she can see that much just from watching him out there. Nicholas’ playing might be fully controlled but the rest of his movements are frenzied and Cam stays out of his line of sight so as not to distract him. She watches as he paces between songs, and maybe she feels more than a tiny amount of joy at how worked up this has made him. Now, all she can think about is what’s going to happen when he realizes that she’s here. What’s going to happen when she gets him back to that hotel room? She can’t even imagine making him wait until they get home.

She moves even further out of the way as the show comes to an end. As the band comes off stage, they each see her as they go by and make their way back to the dressing room. Nicholas is last, and he doesn’t even realize she’s standing there at first, not until she calls out his name. Once he sees her, he passes his bass off to the first tech with free hands, and pulls Cam into his arms.

“You’re here!” he says, as if it’s not obvious. “I thought you were at home.”

He’s burning up like a furnace, but she still clings to him anyways, “I thought I’d come and surprise you. It’s day fourteen after all.”

His eyes go a little fuzzy and she sees the desperation in them. He’s got things that he has to do before she can fully steal him away for the rest of the night, and she gives him a guiding push towards the dressing room. She can feel how tense he is beneath her hands, but chooses to ignore it for now. The post show chaos is enough of a distraction for him, even though Cam can tell now that they’re closer together how twitchy he really is.

“It’s gonna be a long drive home,” Nicholas says at one point.

“We’re not leaving just yet. I got a room for us for the night, I figured we’d just leave in the morning.”

It seems to click in his head that as soon as they leave the venue, he’s finally going to be getting out of his cage. He gives her a grateful look and rushes off to wrap things up, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. Cam watches him go in amusement, mindful of the key that’s still around her neck, tucked beneath her hoodie.

By the time that the stage has been broken down and the equipment has been loaded, Nicholas looks as if he’s going to have some sort of breakdown if he doesn’t get to leave soon. If anyone else has noticed how off he is, they’re being very polite about it. For all Cam knows, they either already know or they’re scared that Nicholas will tell them exactly what’s going on and traumatize them all. She can never be too sure in this group.

He all but drags her out of the venue as they leave, and he’s practically squirming in his seat on the cab ride to the hotel. She was lucky he even thought to grab his bags from the bus before they left. But all it takes is one hand firmly placed on his knee and Nicholas seems to settle right away, blowing out a breath and leaning his head back against the seat.

“Not much longer,” Cam promises, and he gives her a jerky nod. “Hey, look at me. Are you absolutely okay?”

He turns his head and meets her gaze. His eyes are still a little unfocused, but he gives her another nod. “I’m okay. It’s just been a long two weeks. You’ll take it off once we’re in the room?”

“I promise, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He’s a little more subdued once they get to the hotel, and once they get into the room, he sits his bags down with hers and turns around to look at her expectantly. Cam takes her time in pulling off her hoodie and taking off her shoes. His eyes immediately go to the key where it’s standing out against the front of her shirt, and she sees his hands twitch at his sides.

“Go ahead and take off your clothes for me?” she asks softly.

Nicholas hadn’t bothered to change out of his stage clothes before they left the venue, and he leaves everything in a messy pile on the floor. Cam knows the flush on his face and chest is still lingering post show endorphins, but she also knows he has one goal right now. Stepping closer to him, she undoes the clasp on the chain and takes the key off of it. She watches the way he shifts around almost nervously, and she presses up to kiss him on the forehead before turning her attention to the cage.

His breath hitches and he stifles a whine in the back of his throat as she unlocks the tiny padlock and eases the cage off of him. She doesn’t touch him any more than she needs to and when she raises her gaze to him, she can see tears of relief gathering in his eyes.

“Why don’t you go take a shower, it’ll make you feel better,” Cam catches his jaw in her hand, squeezing just a little. “But no touching.”

He looks as if he wants to argue, already half hard and moments away from full on pouting. It’s cute. But finally he grabs his shower stuff from one of his bags and disappears into the bathroom. Cam waits until she hears the water start before she finally moves from where she’s standing. Taking a deep breath, she goes through the normal motions that she does every night at home; makes sure both of their phones are plugged in, changes out of her clothes into one of Nicholas t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts that she probably won’t even be in that long. The check out time tomorrow isn’t until eleven in the morning, and she plans to use as much of that time as she can to their full advantage.

The shower cuts off and a few moments later Nicholas appears in the bathroom doorway, haphazardly drying off. She still thinks about that day in the hotel room in Wyoming when they got back together every time she sees him like this. She can’t help but walk over to him, taking the towel and scrubbing it through his hair for him. He’s still tense and she knows exactly what he needs.

“Come over here to the bed,” she says, pulling him along.

She crawls to the middle, leaning back against the pillows and Nicholas moves to follow her. She stops him before he can get close enough, gesturing for him to turn around so that his back is to her chest. He does it without complaint, though she’s sure he might be a little confused. Before he can ask, she leans in and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, before reaching over and picking up a bottle of lube off of the nightstand. She can feel it when his breath hitches in his chest.

“Camille—”

“Shhh,” she pours some lube into her hand and reaches down, wrapping her fingers around Nicholas’ cock. “Just let me take care of you first, okay? We’ve got all night.”

His only response to that is to arch up into her touch, a quiet moan falling from his mouth as she moves her fist in a slow stroke up. She pauses at the tip, giving him a gentle squeeze only to make him louder. Not wanting to rush this, she repeats the motion, enjoying every noise she drags out of him with each twist of her wrist. His hips rock up into her touch greedily, and Cam peppers kisses along his bare shoulder to urge him on.

“My needy boy, keep making those sounds for me,” she murmurs. Nicholas whines and squirms, one of his hands clamping down on her thigh. “You’re so hard for me, aren’t you? It doesn’t seem like you’re going to last that long. It’s been two weeks”

Cam doesn’t tell him he’s not allowed to come. It seems so cruel after he’s done so well while he was away. And she tells him so as she cards the fingers of her free hand through his hair, tugging just a little on the damp strands. She can tell that he’s trying not to come yet though, that he’s trying to drag this out even though she promised him she’d take care of him, and she speeds up her strokes. Each desperate sound he makes sinks into her skin and turns her on even more. But this isn’t about her right now, and she gives him all of the attention he deserves.

“Don’t hold back on my account, Nicky, just let go.” she urges.

He curses and knocks his head back against her shoulder, body going taught as he spills over her fingers and his stomach. She’d be surprised how messy it was if it hadn’t been so long for him. Eventually he’s got to wrap his hand around her wrist and pull her hand away, gasping for air. He grabs for the towel to clean them both off before flopping back against the bed.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, and Cam grins, leaning over to kiss him.

“Did you miss me, or did you miss orgasms?”

She’s fucking with him, because she can. He lets out an exasperated noise and gives her a playful shove, crawling over her. “Shut up, I’ll show you orgasms.”

“Oh, you're gonna get bossy on me now, Nicholas?” she asks. She loves the way he blushes at that.

“I don’t know,” he says with mock indifference. “You gonna lie back and let me take care of you now?”

She loves him like this too, and the answering kiss he gives her knocks her head back into the pillows and makes her stomach twist pleasantly. One of his hands comes up to cradle her jaw and she melts into the mattress when his other hand starts pulling at the waistband of her sleep shorts. Cam opens her mouth for him, lets him lick his way inside, and she reaches down to help get her shorts off. They get tangled around her ankles, but she manages to get them off and toss them aside. Nicholas’ hands move to get her out of her shirt, and then they’re skin to skin, finally.

“You didn’t answer my question, Cam,” he says as he drags his nose up her cheek. “Can I take care of you now?”

How the hell can she deny him when he asks her like that? “Of course you can, baby.”

He ducks his head down, kissing her neck tenderly, before he starts to move down her body. Cam would tease him about his oral fixation but honestly she wants his mouth on her as badly as he wants to put it there. Anywhere he wants. Rising up on her elbows, she watches as he drags that mouth over her stomach, across her hips. He grips the undersides of her legs, pushing them up until she hooks them over his shoulders like he wants.

Cam sighs and sinks her fingers into his hair as he presses his mouth to her, a soft parody of a kiss that starts out slow but becoming more firm presses of his tongue as he tastes her, teasing over her clit. While she had no problem not teasing him tonight, he doesn't seem to have the same sentiment as he moves slowly in a deliberate way that says she hasn't been restricted from coming in fourteen days. A ridiculous sound escapes her lips and she scratches her nails over his scalp when he dips his tongue into her briefly before pulling back and licking upward again. When he lets go of one of her thighs long enough to slip one of his fingers inside of her, Cam shudders and her hips buck up.

She can feel his laughter against her, even when he never takes his tongue off her clit, but then he's adding in a second finger and causing her to squirm more. Her hips shift back and forth and he moves easily with her, letting her ride his face and yank his hair. She doesn't have to worry about hurting him, she knows he likes it. She was already on the edge to begin with, just from seeing him fall apart for her so easily earlier, but when he crooks his fingers up into that spot inside of her at the same time his lips close around her clit, she can't do anything but let herself fall back against the bed and let her orgasm wash over her.

Reaching down, she pulls him back up to her by the jaw and seals their lips together. She can feel him getting hard against her again and she reaches down to dig her nails into the flesh of his ass, just for him to twitch and grind into her. It doesn't matter to her that her entire body is still buzzing from her climax, she still needs him inside of her now.

Nicholas pulls back a little, “Turn over for me.”

He gives her the room she needs to roll over onto her stomach and she tries to stay still as he trails his lips up her back and shoulder. His hands are everywhere and she gasps as she feels him dragging his cock between her folds. When she tries to rock back and get him inside of her, he pulls back, laughing again.

“You’re gonna spend the drive home in that cage again Nicholas, I swear to god.”

“Promises promises,” he says with no small amount of glee at the idea that he has the upper hand here. “You’ve gotta have some patience, Camille. You said I could take care of you.”

She can’t exactly argue with his logic, Looking over her shoulder, she realizes that’s what he wanted. He wanted her eyes on him as he finally sinks fully inside of her. Her breath leaves her in a gasping rush, both of them freezing and reveling in the moment of being together like this again. Finally she gives in and she arches back into him. This time he lets her, his hands sliding up over the swell of her ass, tracing up her spine and sliding back down to grasp her hips. He pulls her back into each thrust and her mind starts to go fuzzy with overstimulation and the drag of his cock inside of her. Cam doesn’t think she needs to be touched to be able to come again, she thinks this is more than enough.

His forehead presses into the curve of her neck and she feels his teeth set into her skin. Her stomach clenches and she inhales sharply, mouth dropping open. It's just another sensation shooting through her body. One of her hands comes up to tangle in his hair, trying to keep him as close as possible. It’s in the back of her mind that every single hotel in the world has the most shitty insulation and they’re probably giving some poor soul an earful. Each lungful of air leaves her in a choking moan and every time Nicholas pulls back and starts mouthing at another section of skin she feels dizzy.

It's too much and she comes with a sob of his name. His hips piston into hers relentlessly, fucking her through her second orgasm as he chased his own. Cam can hear him whispering in her ear but his words are intelligible over the thudding of her heart in her chest. He finally comes, his fingers slotting between hers as he buries his face into her hair and goes still against her.

“Stay still for me,” he murmurs and Cam nods slowly. She doesn’t think she could move if he actually asked her to.

She hisses out a breath when he pulls out, long past embarrassed when she realizes she can feel his come dripping out of her. His touch skates over the back of her legs, and he nearly falls off of the bed to get another towel to clean her up with. She thinks about a shower, or taking advantage of the very big jacuzzi bathtub that this hotel room has, but it all requires moving. Sweat cools on her skin and eventually Nicholas lies back down beside her, pulling her over onto his chest.

“Thank you,” he says.

Cam’s eyebrows raise, “Are you thanking me for the sex, Nicky?”

He huffs out a breath, cheeks going a little pink. “I’m thanking you for believing that I could do what I did.”

“Oh, baby,” she reaches up to card her hands into his hair again, managing to lift herself up to press a kiss against his forehead. “I never doubted you for a second.”

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