#i'm sorry updates are still going to be slow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

euphorajeon · 5 months ago

Text

if it's a dream (i'll come around)

— request: jeongguk + yes or no - jungkook

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff

— word count: 3.1k

— warnings/tags: idol!jk, college student!oc, best friend!jk, most likely inaccurate desc of new york, jk is still pining, jk orders food excessively (again), cliches (sorry)

— summary: something in the new york air makes jeongguk feel a rush: a rush to admit, a rush to tell, a rush to take a leap. he's just not sure whether you feel it too.

— author's note: it's finally here!! i'm sorry for taking so long to write this request. thank you areyousure!jeongguk for inspiring me to finish this request. hah. i hope you still enjoy!! (its unedited. maybe i'll come back someday to edit.)

a continuation of opposite of sun and light of the morning. please read the first two parts before reading this!

masterlist

Jeongguk never thought that it could be so hard to walk around New York.

There are people everywhere, going in a thousand different directions than him, and they walk so fast Jeongguk struggles to keep up even with his long legs. The shops he caught his eyes on were always full too, making him turn away from the door and look for other places that aren't so filled to the brim. Maybe he should’ve gone somewhere not as touristy as Times Square.

But above all, the hardest part of his stroll today is walking alongside you and having to feign nonchalance about it.

Jeongguk’s life as a singer doesn’t really allow him to have much free time, and even when he does, you either have work, class, or anything in between. As a result, the both of you can’t meet often. Jeongguk is so used to just seeing your face on his phone screen, talking to you via a video call connection, that seeing your form walking beside him throws him off balance.

It’s a good thing your face is mostly covered by the camera in your hands, otherwise Jeongguk would’ve spent the entire day with a blush dusting his cheeks just from holding eye contact with you.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Jeongguk squints his eyes past the camera lens covering your face, searching for your eyes which are shaded by the faded black cap sitting on your head. You only respond with a shrug, gesturing towards the camera as if to remind Jeongguk of its existence. He sighs, lifting your cap with a finger so he can look at your eyes. “Bun.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to me, you know?” you huff, trying to balance the device in your hand so Jeongguk’s face is still in frame. “I’m your cameraman for today, not your best friend.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Camerawoman,” he corrects, “and who says I’m not allowed to talk to you? Do you think I talk to myself the entire time I’m filming vlogs like this?”

“Seems like it,” you say. “Sometimes they’re funny, but most of the time they just make me think ‘what even is he saying?’”

A slow grin spreads on Jeongguk’s face, his eyes still trained on you instead of the camera. When you look away from the small screen of the device in your hand, Jeongguk feels like his smile could split his face into two, and it must look bizarre on camera, but he doesn’t care. What he does care about is—

“You watch my vlogs?”

Suddenly, Jeongguk feels like he is not a popular singer with fans all over the world who tune in to his regular vlog updates, but just Jeon Jeongguk, a boy with a crush to impress. The way you unintentionally confirmed that you watch his vlogs makes him feel all giddy inside that it slipped his mind that you already said the same thing this morning in his hotel room.

Maybe this is what people mean when they say love makes one stupid.

“Only to see what other stupid shenanigans you do this time,” you mumble, dabbing around your face with the back of your free hand. It suspiciously looks like you’re trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, but Jeongguk immediately throws that thought away from his mind. It must be the New York heat that’s making your face hot like this.

“Just admit you enjoy seeing my face on your phone that much,” Jeongguk says cheekily, settling for a response that’s annoying, teasing, but familiar for the both of you. Maybe he’ll address the not-blush on the apple of your cheeks some other time.

“Where was this confidence about me watching your Times Square performance, huh?” You punch his shoulder lightly, which he’s sure makes the image of him on camera shake and blur. “Saying I ‘ghosted’ you because your performance is ‘bad’. What nonsense was that.”

“Hey, I was really worried about you, okay?” Jeongguk pouts. “Besides, I still need your opinion on my performances, whereas my vlogs are usually just me messing around. It’s different.”

Whatever response you have prepared in your mind gets interrupted by your phone ringing, which startles you so much you almost drop the camera from your hand. Good thing Jeongguk has fast reflexes, immediately enclosing his hands around yours before you could do any damage to the device. Upon checking the caller ID, your expression turns to one of worry.

Jeongguk takes the camera away from you. “Take the call,” he says. “I’ll just be here.”

While you step away to do just that, Jeongguk takes the opportunity to finally pay attention to the camera that he has been ignoring for the past few minutes, checking himself out on the small screen and running his fingers through his hair while holding eye contact with the lense. He goes on social media often enough to know that his fans will cut this specific clip from the vlog and fangirl over how good he looks while doing that.

Sometimes he wonders whether you see those clips and have the same reaction as his fans. Do you see them and scroll past them like they’re nothing? Do you scoff at his antics? Do you shake your head with a small laugh?

There’s also a possibility of you not even seeing those clips at all, but Jeongguk likes to think he’s popular enough that his clips can’t help but still end up in your feed. (Also, it hurts his little heart too much to imagine otherwise.)

You come back to him from your phone call with anxiety written all over your face. Jeongguk doesn’t even need to inquire before you squeak out your concern yourself.

“The deadline for my midterm paper has been moved. It’s now due in five hours. Jeongguk, what do I do?”

The both of you end up going back to Jeongguk’s hotel to fish out your brick-ass laptop from your gigantic backpack, the camera in his hands still recording. You’ve told him that he could continue exploring New York on his own, bringing the camera noona like the initial plan was, but Jeongguk insisted on coming with you instead. Why would he go with anyone else when you are here?

Still, though, because he doesn’t want to lose the sense of exploring a new place, he drags you to a dessert cafe near his hotel, offering to hold your laptop in his arms while you walk the short distance to the cafe. Despite your protests, Jeongguk manages to convince you to leave the camera on for the entirety of this laptop fiasco, capturing every moment from the laptop tug-of-war in Jeongguk’s hotel room to his grin in response to your sulking face when you’re both seated in the dessert cafe.

His video editor would hate him for this, but Jeongguk doesn’t care. You’re here, in New York with him, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try his hardest to preserve any memories you make here.

“I don’t understand why you’d rather be stuck here with me than be out there exploring sunny New York in all its glory,” you huff while waiting for your laptop to turn on. It takes a while, Jeongguk notices, but your pout prevents him from saying anything about it. “What idiot has free time in New York and chooses to spend it cooped inside some random cafe?”

Jeongguk pretends to adjust the camera sitting on the table—angled in a way that it captures his face only—so he doesn’t have to look at your face when he says his next words: “Your idiot, Bun.”

You level him with a flat stare. “So you admit you’re an idiot.”

If it means being yours, sure, Jeongguk thinks. He really should stop thinking thoughts like these lest he blurt them out in front of you, on camera.

“I’m gonna order, what do you want, Bun?” Jeongguk asks as an attempt to steer the conversation away from idiots with feelings.

You look up from your (finally on) laptop screen with your head in your hands. “Anything except americano,” you mumble. “Thanks, Jeon.”

“Sure, Bun.” Jeongguk stands up from his seat, grabbing the camera to bring with him to the cashier. “You sure you don’t want anything else?”

The way you shake your head dejectedly is so uncharacteristic of you, given you’re both in a cafe filled with the smell of baked goods—something that usually brings a light of excitement into your eyes. Jeongguk can only imagine how stressful it is being a college student and having your midterm deadline be moved to hours earlier, and to experience all this while being jet lagged from a 14-hour flight prior surely doesn’t help.

Jeongguk has to physically hold himself from ducking down to engulf you in a hug, squeeze his arms around your frame until your frown is turned upside down and he can bear witness to your smile once again. For now, he can only wish that the cafe sells the type of bread you like so he can at least alleviate some of your burden with the sweet treat.

When he goes to the cashier to order, his polite smile is responded with a gasp from the cafe worker, clearly recognizing him as the popular singer. His smile turns into something more genuine—albeit a bit shy also—when the worker mentions that she’s a fan of his. After exchanging some pleasantries with her, Jeongguk proceeds to order. He just doesn’t realize how many desserts and pastries in the display case he’s pointed at until the worker asks him a question.

“Are you here with your crews?” she inquires, still tapping away at the computer screen in front of her. When Jeongguk only stares at her with wide eyes, she continues. “We can provide individual utensils for each of you if you’d like,” she offers.

Oh. Oh. Jeongguk thought she was asking for conversational purposes. “Uh, just two sets would be fine. Thank you.”

Still, it doesn’t register in his brain that he’s ordered too many pastries for two people until he’s coming back to your table with only both of your drinks on the tray in his hands. He sets your drink down next to your laptop, on which you’re typing furiously like you’re a madman chased by a tight deadline (in a way, you kind of are.)

Only when three cafe workers come back to back to your table to drop off his order of various kinds of desserts and pastries does he realize that he might have gone overboard with his order. Jeongguk can only flash a guilty smile your way when you tear your eyes away from your laptop to gape at the array of desserts in front of you.

“Are you trying to feed an entire village?” you ask incredulously.

“Hehe,” Jeongguk offers. “I was thinking about you and how you looked so stressed out because of your deadline and I just … ordered pretty much everything … for you.” He scratches his head sheepishly while setting the camera to its initial position on the corner of the table. He hopes the camera doesn’t pick up the way his cheeks blossom with heat. Or if it does, he hopes the editor cuts this part out.

Jeongguk doesn’t know if he imagines this part or not, but your eyes soften at his words and your next words are more gentle in tone. “Thank you, but there’s no way I would be able to finish all of these by myself.”

“Did you forget that you have Jeon Jeongguk for a best friend?” There’s a smug smirk on his face now, replacing the sheepish one he was sporting a few minutes ago. He likes it when you’re soft with him, vulnerable in a way only he’s allowed to see, but that’s exactly the problem: you’re both on camera, and whether or not this gets shared to the world, it’s still not as private as he would’ve liked. So he’s back on his annoying best friend persona to stop your vulnerable side from coming out.

You roll your eyes at him, but there’s a sliver of a smile on your lips.

The both of you spend the next few minutes enjoying your desserts and drinks, with Jeongguk cutting the desserts into bite-sized pieces so you can eat them with ease. He also does not forget his job as an entertainer, showing each and every one of the desserts to the camera and making sure his delightful hums are loud enough for the camera to pick up. He’s humming along to the song being played in the cafe while chewing when it suddenly plays an intro of a song he knows by heart—and judging from the way you look up from your laptop, you do too.

“Did they know you’re here?” The smile on your face is teasing.

“The cashier recognized me, said she’s a fan,” Jeongguk explains, turning his head in the direction of the cashier, trying to find the aforementioned worker. Upon making eye contact with her, Jeongguk mouths a thank you! with a smile, which she responds with a thumbs up.

“You must have made her day by coming here. Her whole week, even,” you chuckle, going back to typing on your laptop. The smile quickly drops from your face as you’re forced to go back to thinking mode for your midterm paper. Jeongguk nudges a fork full of pastry into your hand, silently asking you to eat.

“Then would you still say I’m an idiot for choosing to be here with you?”

Jeongguk said he’d leave this topic alone, revisit it later when he’s got the courage to do so, but what can he do? Your presence here with him makes him overwhelmed with feelings that sometimes it slips in between his words.

The only response he receives from you is silence. Jeongguk doesn’t know whether it’s because you didn’t want to respond or you simply just didn’t hear him. It’s most likely the latter as any attempt he makes to make you eat the desserts are useless as you’re too immersed in your paper. He ends up just feeding you bites after bites of desserts, grateful and giddy that you take them without protests as you’re typing.

As he’s cutting up more pastries for you to eat, the song changes to ‘Yes or No’, the fifth track on his latest album that he performed live two days ago at Times Square. He remembers you telling him that your friend, Yeseo, became a fan after listening to this song. Jeongguk tries to suppress a smile by biting his bottom lip as he listens to the lyrics of the song.

Are you feeling the rush?

Are we falling in love?

Say yes or no

In an interview, Jeongguk told the public that no songs from his album are based on his personal life, although he hopes he still delivered the messages of the songs well enough. What he doesn’t say, however, is that he thinks of you whenever he listens to or performs this song. It’s a song about a person in love and still wonders whether the other person is feeling the same way. Sometimes he wishes he could be honest and sing the words to you, pour out his feelings along the way, and he wishes you could feel the same way.

Jeongguk stops his activities of cutting desserts into bite-sized pieces and leans his back against his chair, staring at you. You’re still hyper-focused on your paper that you don’t notice his gaze, typing away on your laptop without a care for the love pouring out of his eyes.

Jeongguk knows you love him.

You love him enough to answer his video call at two am when you were studying. You love him enough to sacrifice sleep to watch his performance. You love him enough to book a flight to New York immediately after even though you still have a midterm paper to finish. You love him enough to walk around JFK with a heavy backpack hanging off your shoulders. You love him enough to join him exploring New York instead of resting off your jet lag.

But does that mean you love him enough to return his feelings the way he wants you to?

As he ponders the answer to that question, his hand moves on its own accord to continue feeding you the dessert he has cut up. You continue accepting the food he feeds you, and Jeongguk thinks maybe he needs to stop being selfish and just be content with whatever he has with you right now: friendship.

Although, in this moment, feeding you desserts while you do your paper, he feels like your college boyfriend he wished to be nights ago when you were a mere video on his phone. He already dresses the part—jeans and oversized hoodie—and feels the part, but that’s the thing about parts, isn’t it? That they’re not real, that they’re only there in his head.

You have cream on the corner of your lips from a particular big cut of dessert Jeongguk just fed you, and it feels like autopilot when he leans forward to swipe the cream off your lips with his thumb. He slots the thumb in between his own lips, sucking the cream clean off his skin. The innocent round of his eyes are met with the shocked round of yours, unblinking as you stare at the thumb previously on your lips, now on his.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

You shake your head. There’s an unmistakable crimson on the apple of your cheeks. “Nothing,” you say, clearing your throat. The blush on your face remains, and if Jeongguk’s sight serves him right, deepens instead. “Just, remember that you’re on camera the next time you want to do that.”

“So I can do it again if I turn off the camera?”

Jeongguk surprises himself by how steady he sounds. A tad too serious, too, and if he’s not careful, you might take it that he really wants to do it again, for real. His heart hammers in his chest as his hand inches towards the camera, fingers ready to turn the device off.

“Jeongguk,” you say slowly in a warning tone. “Namjoon will kill me if you try anything funny.”

Letting out his signature big grin, Jeongguk retracts his hand from the camera.

“Sorry, Bun. I’ll let you finish your paper in peace now.”

If you have cream on your lips again, maybe he’ll swipe it off with his lips instead. Maybe later, when he has the courage to. Maybe later, when he’s let you know how he really feels.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

a/n: thank you for reading! i still have 1 (one) more idea for this couple pair of bestfriends but not sure if i have the brain capacity to actually write it out ahaha let me know if you want to see more of them though :D

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #fanfic #fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts au #bts college au #jungkook college au #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #idol!jungkook

1K notes · View notes

novascharms · 21 days ago

Text

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 14.9 chapter index — next. chap.

c.w — smut, p in v masterlist

a.n — you did read that right. this has turned into a 15000 word monster... i'm not sure how it happened. ANYWAY. this is very late and i'm so very sorry. gramps went into emergency surgery, i started school and had the worst period cramps of my life but we all good, everything is much better now. i will be updating the other four parts very soon. (hopefully tee hee)

epilogue - part one

sunday, march 2nd

rafe was a heavy sleeper. you never knew that—not until now. he slept like a log, completely undisturbed despite the world moving around him. even with the sun pouring through the windows, turning his hair and eyelashes a shade of gold so soft it looked spun from honey, even with the familiar morning symphony of your family filling the house—your sister's giggles echoing from the yard as she played with your mom, your little brother waddling through the living room, bottle clutched in his tiny hands as he repeatedly bumped his head against rafe’s thigh—he didn’t so much as stir.

he should consider himself lucky. you, on the other hand, could wake up from the mere sound of a door creaking open down the hall.

you tried to imagine him in your bed instead of sprawled across your couch, head buried in your pillows, wrapped up in your blanket. would he sleep on the left or the right? hopefully the left, since you slept on the right—closest to the window, where the first light of morning always found you.

did he dream? or did he have nightmares? did he mumble in his sleep? would you wake up to hear him speaking in slurred, sleepy gibberish, too out of it to make sense?

did he sleep in sweats? pajamas? a button-up? shirtless? that felt very much like rafe, but you didn’t know. not yet, at least.

did he linger in bed for thirty minutes before dragging himself up, or was he like you? someone who counted down from five to one and forced temselves up at one.

endless possibilities.

and something inside you whispered that you would find out. maybe not today. maybe not tomorrow. but the day would come, and when it did, you'd cherish it.

you'd watch him just like you were watching him now, cataloging every detail—the way his lashes rested against his cheek, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. you’d memorize how his hair fell, how his lips looked impossibly soft, how the little crease between his brows never quite smoothed out, even in sleep. and you'd be allowed.

you wouldn’t have to stop yourself from reaching out.

you wouldn’t have to fight the urge to kiss him.

because he would be yours. completely, irrevocably yours.

“take a picture, it'll last longer.”

your sister’s voice snapped you from your thoughts. you barely spared her a glance, still leaning against the archway separating the living room from the dining room, cradling a mug of now-cold tea in your hands.

“go away,” you murmured, voice quiet but firm.

she was right, but she could be right somewhere else.

you'd been staring at him for well over fifteen minutes, still in your pajamas, unable to make yourself move, unable to be anywhere else. you had already called off work because the thought of leaving right now—leaving him—felt unbearable.

were you one of those girlfriend? the kind who couldn’t stay away, who hovered and obsessed?

girlfriend felt too soon.

but then again, rafe had told you he loved you. twelve hours, thirteen minutes, and fifty-four seconds ago, to be exact.

your dad passed by, replacing your cold mug with a fresh one, steam curling in the air. you thanked him absentmindedly, fingers wrapping around the warmth.

what kind of boyfriend would rafe be?

you already knew he was touchy, that he liked kissing, that he had a habit of nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours, of holding eye contact just a little too long when you weren’t paying attention. he liked to watch you, studying you as you tutored him, as you cleaned, as if every little thing you did was worth committing to memory.

but what about the rest?

would he bring you flowers? take you to the movies, or more late-night drives along the coast? would he want to sit on the beach with you until the sky turned soft with morning, or would he prefer extravagant dates, something grand and exciting?

what kind of gifts would he like?

would he appreciate personalized things—carefully written ‘open when’ letters, little boxes filled with things meant just for him—or was he more materialistic? would he want his favorite cologne, designer watches, the kinds of things that held status?

or would he prefer something he could do? something he could experience—a trip, an activity, something he could share with you or his friends?

you’d probably just get him all of it. just to be sure.

you’d only had one boyfriend before—not that you and rafe were official yet, but still.

being a girlfriend the first time had been… odd.

like having a boy who was a friend, and sometimes he kissed you, and it was just… fine.

but with rafe?

it felt nothing like that.

and god, you wanted to do it right.

maybe there was a research paper somewhere on how to be a good girlfriend.

not that it mattered. rafe made it easy.

he made your heart stutter, your stomach twist, your cheeks burn. he made you want to be good to him. to be perfect for him.

and maybe that was impossible.

but you would try.

rafe stirred, his arm lifting sluggishly to rub at his eyes, fingers dragging through the remnants of sleep. the motion caught your little brother’s attention immediately, his tiny head snapping up, curiosity flickering across his face at the sudden movement in the room. once he realized rafe was awake, he held out his arms in a way that said 'pick me up before i hurl this bottle at someone.'

"hey, buddy…" rafe rasped, voice thick with sleep as he reached for him, lifting him effortlessly and settling him onto his chest.

you stayed still, watching in silence, your body at ease yet your heart hammering against your ribs. it was as if you could physically feel it swell, stretching wide with a warmth so intense it made your breath hitch.

and then, as if he could sense it, his eyes found yours. sleepy, unfocused, but piercing all the same. that disarming gaze of his tugged at something deep within you, pulling you toward him like gravity itself. god, you wanted to go to him. to press yourself against him, burrow into his warmth, tuck your face into the crook of his neck and let the rest of the world fall away.

"morning."

his voice was quiet, rough around the edges, heavy with sleep. it was almost ridiculous how the sound of it sent tingles through every nerve in your body, warm and electric, curling low in your stomach.

"morning."

your own voice was steadier than you felt, but your feet wouldn’t move. he looked so cozy—messy hair, sleepy eyes, the laziest, softest smile pulling at his lips. he was huggable, he was yours, and the ache to touch him, to climb into his space, to sink into his warmth, made your fingers twitch at your sides.

his head rested against the couch arm, eyes impossibly tender as they traced over you.

"gonna stay over there?"

he was almost smiling, teasing, but something expectant threaded through the words—something hopeful.

your little brother wiggled off his chest and padded away, but rafe didn’t look away, didn’t so much as blink. he was watching you now, watching the hesitation in your stance, the way your weight shifted like you were trying to resist something inevitable.

"i'm enjoying the view."

you grinned, and the corner of his lips twitched, a smirk creeping in slow and lazy.

"taking in the sights?"

you nodded.

"like what you see?" his brows lifted slightly, smirk deepening. "hope i’m up to standard."

another nod, another hum of approval.

and then, softer—almost pleading—

"c’mere."

your body moved before your mind could catch up. one second, you were standing. the next, you were there, sinking into him, his hands finding your waist as your knees pressed into the cushions.

the need to touch him was unbearable, searing through your veins, clawing at your ribs.

and then, finally, it hit you—you can.

as much as you want. as long as you want.

because he was yours.

not some far-off dream.

not a delusion.

real.

your hands found his chest first, smoothing over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin through the cotton. slowly, they traveled upward, fingers brushing over his throat, his jaw, until your palms cradled his face, your thumb tracing the high point of his cheekbone.

rafe turned into your touch, his lips brushing against the heel of your palm.

"sleep okay?" he murmured, though there was a knowing edge to it, a quiet concern that made your stomach twist.

because you both knew why he was asking.

last night, by the time you’d finally come inside, you were wrecked. tear-streaked, hiccuping, clinging to rafe like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. you hadn’t wanted him to sleep on the couch. you had fought him on it, insisted, pleaded, but somehow—you weren’t even sure how—he had won that fight. maybe it was the exhaustion. maybe it was the way your body had already been shutting down from the sheer weight of the night.

"me? i'm not the one who slept on the couch."

you narrowed your eyes, fingers still cupping his face, and his lips quirked at your pointed tone.

"i slept good," he assured you. "hard surfaces are better for your back, you know?"

you snorted, unconvinced. "got facts now, huh? copying me, cameron?"

he chuckled, tilting his head against your palm, lashes fluttering briefly as he stretched out with a groan.

"didn’t you know? i’m coming for your spot."

your smile widened. "you sure you want that? i go to the library for fun, you know?"

rafe made a face, and you laughed.

"still want me?" you teased, only half joking.

he tilted his head slightly, considering. for half a second.

then, he kissed you.

soft. chaste. a barely-there press of lips that still managed to steal the breath from your lungs. and god, you didn’t care that he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet—you’d kiss him like this forever if he let you.

when he pulled back, his nose nudged yours.

"the real question is…" his voice was low, careful, like he was treading unsteady ground. "will you still have me?"

you exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment, just soaking him in.

the past twenty-four hours had been an emotional wreckage. you had him, then you lost him, then you had him again in the span of a few, heart-crushing, life-altering hours.

it was enough to make your head spin.

enough to make you terrified that you could lose him just as easily.

"that's a silly question."

your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, and he melted into you, hands slipping around your waist, tugging you even closer until you could feel his heartbeat against your own.

"is it?" he murmured, his fingers dragging along the length of your spine, leaving shivers in their wake.

"it is," you whispered. "m’never letting you go."

his hold tightened.

"you promise?"

the words were barely audible, spoken against your skin, fragile in the way only he could be.

you squeezed him, felt his heartbeat against your own.

"cross my heart."

after a surprisingly normal breakfast, rafe had stepped outside to take a phone call. judging by the rare, genuine smile pulling at his lips, you were pretty sure it was sarah. his sister was one of the few people who could make him look like that—unguarded, softened.

you were elbow-deep in soapy water, stacking dishes into the drying rack, when your mom poked her head into the kitchen. her eyes twinkled with thinly veiled curiosity.

“so,” she started, dragging out the word as she leaned against the counter.

you turned, brows lifting. “so?”

her gaze flicked meaningfully toward the glass doors, where rafe was pacing the length of your backyard, phone in hand. “do you have a boy who is a little more than a friend?” she asked, feigning nonchalance.

a smirk tugged at your lips. “mm, are you asking if rafe is my boyfriend?”

“am i asking if the boy who has been sleeping on my couch and practically living in my house for the past two months is your boyfriend now? yes, i just might be.” she deadpanned, eyes shifting between you and the boy outside.

you smiled to yourself, wiping down a plate. “nope.”

“no?” your dad’s voice came out of nowhere, making you nearly jump. you turned to see him standing in the doorway, confusion written all over his face.

your mom echoed his disbelief. “no?”

you nodded, amused. “not yet.”

your dad huffed, crossing his arms. “not yet? well, what the hell is his plan? because i’m not about to have some kid walking in and out of this house—”

before he could finish his sentence, the sliding door creaked open. rafe stepped inside, still distracted by his phone, but when the room fell into a tense silence, his eyes flickered up.

his brows furrowed. “uh… hey, guys…” his gaze found yours, searching. “am i interrupting or…?”

you shook your head a little too quickly. “no, no. they were just wondering what time we got home last night.” you turned to your parents, forcing a casual tone. “around ten, i think. you had only just gone to bed.”

your mom pursed her lips before smiling at rafe. “uh huh. well, hope the couch wasn’t too terrible. it’s not exactly made for sleeping.”

rafe waved a hand dismissively. “it was fine. i should’ve asked before crashing, it was kind of a last-minute thing.”

your dad, who moments ago was seconds away from throwing him out, suddenly beamed. “that’s alright, you’re always welcome here, son.”

you gawked at him, utterly incredulous, but he ignored you.

your mom grabbed your dad’s arm, tugging him toward the hallway. “well, we should go because…” she shot him a pointed look, silently urging him to come up with an excuse.

“because…” he faltered, then suddenly snapped his fingers. “we have children! yes, we should check on our other children. the little one’s been, uh… constipated lately—”

their voices trailed off as they disappeared down the hall, leaving you blinking after them.

“your parents are funny,” rafe murmured, stepping up behind you. you barely had time to react before he dropped his head atop yours, the warmth of his body settling against your back.

“they’re weird,” you corrected.

he chuckled, a quiet, deep sound. “they’re a little weird.”

his breath was warm against your temple, the closeness of him making your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t sure how to name.

“want me to help you dry those?” he asked softly.

you nodded, unable to stop the smile curling at your lips. “here.”

you handed him a mug, and he slid away just enough to grab a dish towel, falling into step beside you.

"were you on the phone with sarah?” you ask quietly, unable to hide your curiosity.

rafe nods, still absentmindedly drying the dish in his hands. “yeah, she was asking if i was eating dinner with them tonight. we’re in that phase where my parents act super happy that she’s home—before they start picking fights with her.”

your brows pull together. “they didn’t know she was coming back?”

“no, they did. it was only really a surprise for me.”

your stomach twists a little at that. “sorry it didn’t go exactly as planned,” you murmur, voice laced with quiet regret.

rafe doesn’t answer right away. instead, he gently takes the cup from your hands, setting it down on the counter before his fingers slip around yours, warm and firm. “i’m the one who should apologize,” he says, voice thick with sincerity. “it happened at my house, with my friends. i invited you. i should’ve—i should’ve been better. if i knew—”

“you already apologized,” you cut in softly. “a couple of times, actually. and it’s okay. you didn’t know.” you hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat. “i also have fault in this, you know?” you look away for a second before meeting his eyes again. “i was scared. scared to communicate, to let you all the way in, to trust you sometimes. i can say without a doubt that if i’d handled a few things differently, we wouldn’t be where we are.”

rafe tilts his head side to side, clearly disagreeing. “you don’t have any fault in this.” he tugs you closer, guiding your arms around his neck. “how were you supposed to trust me when you already knew what i was like? maybe not in detail, but the vague image was always there—even before cora said anything. you were protecting yourself. it’s one of the most human responses.”

your lips part, ready to argue, but he beats you to it. “but,” he exhales, a tiny smirk playing at his lips, “i doubt i’ll win this fight, so let’s just agree to disagree.”

he kisses you once, then again, softer this time, like the words themselves weren’t enough to settle it. your lips twitch with a smile you can’t control.

“agree to disagree,” you whisper against his mouth before pressing a few more kisses to his lips, unable to stop yourself.

he lets out a small chuckle, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, slow and affectionate. you think you could live in this quiet forever.

“what time are you leaving?” your voice is quiet, already heavy with the weight of missing him before he’s even gone.

“soon,” he murmurs, his breath warm as it brushes against your temple, “but i’m coming back.”

your brows knit together, searching his face, his eyes, the way his lips barely quirk like he knows something you don’t. “you’re coming back?”

he nods, fingers grazing the curve of your jaw like he’s memorizing it. “there’s this girl…”

your smile is instant, soft and knowing. “mm?”

“she’s been running through my mind for so long,” he says, voice dipping lower, threading through your hair, “and i’m crazy about her.”

your grin spreads, helpless against the pull of him. “sounds serious.”

“yeah.” he smirks like he’s got a secret, and god, you love when he looks at you like that. “and i haven’t taken her on a date yet.”

you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest in mock scandal. “you haven’t taken her on a date yet?”

he shakes his head, feigning shame. “shameful, right?”

“absolutely. they should lock you up and throw away the key.”

his laughter rumbles between you, deep and warm, and you wish you could steal it, keep it somewhere safe. “damn,” he grins, pulling you closer. “throw away the key and everything?”

you nod solemnly. “except… if you can redeem yourself.”

he hums, amused. “redeem myself?”

you tip your chin up. “mmhm. like telling her where exactly you want to take her.”

his lips hover over yours, his voice a murmur against your mouth. “no can do. state secrets.” he presses a kiss to you, then another, softer between each word. “and we leave at four.”

your head spins. you barely register what he’s saying because all you can think about is the way he tastes, the way his hands tighten on your waist like he’d rather not let you go at all.

then he pulls back just enough to tilt his head, studying you like he’s about to say something important. “you should tell your parents you’re sleeping at hazel’s house,” he says casually, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, “and bring an overnight bag.”

your eyes widen. “an overnight bag?”

his smirk deepens at your reaction. “mmhm.”

“are we staying at your house?” you ask, suspicion creeping in.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “give me a little more credit than that.”

you narrow your eyes but let it slide. “okay… how should i dress if you won’t tell me where we’re going?”

he exhales, like he’s carefully picking his words. “it’s… outside. we’re walking around. not hiking or anything, but walking. like, imagine a museum—but it’s not a museum.”

you blink. “imagine a museum, but it’s not a museum?”

he nods, his grin tilting. “and bring warm clothes to sleep in.”

your stomach flips at that. he must notice because he laughs softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “no, we are not sleeping outside.”

relief floods you. “thank god,” you mumble. “i’d do a lot of things for you, but camping? not one of them.”

rafe grins, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. “camping is actually fun, you know,” he teases, his words muffled in your hair.

you let out a tiny, skeptical laugh. “yeah, the bugs, the grass, the dirt… my dream.”

his chest shakes with laughter, pressing his lips to your forehead. “you’re such a pessimist. they’re not bugs, they’re just little critters. it’s not grass and dirt,” he grins, “it’s nature and fresh air, and it’s good for your soul.”

“no, i’m a realist. and ‘critters’ do not sound better than bugs.”

his laughter softens, something deeper settling in his eyes as he looks at you. his arms tighten, holding you like he’s grounding himself in you, in this moment, in everything you are.

“you’re good for my soul,” you whisper, barely a breath between you. “that’s enough ‘good for the soul’ for me.”

his body relaxes against yours, the air shifting, something warm and certain pressing between your ribs. he leans down, lips brushing the top of your head, his breath stirring your hair.

“think it’s enough for me too, baby.”

you’d read somewhere that the brain falls in love in 0.2 seconds. a fraction of a moment—less than the blink of an eye—and suddenly, chemicals flood your system. dopamine, oxytocin, adrenaline. the same kind of high that leaves people breathless, euphoric, addicted.

you never really believed it. 0.2 seconds? seriously? your brain had to have more fight in it than that. love seemed more complex, something slow-building, something earned. but now, pressed against rafe’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his arms wrapped securely around you—you realize it wasn’t just true. it lasted a lot longer than that.

and god, were you in trouble.

eventually, rafe pulled himself away, murmuring something about needing to shower and change. he promised he’d be back at four, but you were too restless to wait. by two, you were already ready to go.

you cleaned your room, checked over your schoolwork, called off volunteering, helped your mom downstairs—anything to burn through the extra energy buzzing beneath your skin. and still, there was too much time left.

with nothing left to do, you were ready to just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling until you got a text from your friends.

“hey!” you greeted, too bright, too excited.

three pairs of eyes blinked at you through the screen, varying degrees of shock and mild concern staring back.

“hey… y/n,” hazel started cautiously, brows furrowed. “are you okay?”

only then did you remember—they had no idea what had happened after ivy left.

by the time you finished telling them everything, their reactions were wildly different.

hazel, unsurprisingly, remained skeptical. her lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her arms, eyes narrowing in that way that told you she was biting back several very strong opinions. “you need to be careful,” she warned. “i wouldn’t have taken him back on principle.”

you rolled your eyes, already bracing for a future where hazel inevitably fell in love and her poor, unfortunate partner suffered under her stubborn, unshakable sense of justice.

devon, on the other hand, was thrilled. she’d always liked rafe the most, but devon liked everyone that could make her laugh. and since she found almost everything funny, her enthusiasm wasn’t exactly a surprise. “this was all adriana and cora’s fault,” she declared confidently. “it only seems complicated because of misunderstandings.”

honestly, she wasn’t completely wrong.

ivy was the last to react, but only because she needed everything explained twice. she kept getting lost in the names and timelines, but once she caught up, she leaned back, thoughtful. “i get where hazel’s coming from,” she admitted. “but… i’ve never seen someone look at another person the way rafe looks at you.” she shook her head, like even she couldn’t believe it. “he’s in love with you. and i think you guys deserve a real chance.”

your chest tightened, an ache so sweet it almost hurt.

hazel made valid points. you couldn’t deny that things could have been handled better, that rafe had a past, that there were risks.

but love had to count for something.

the way he touched you like you were something delicate and precious, the way he kissed you like he’d been starving for you, the way he looked at you—like you were the most important thing in the world.

you had to see this through. you deserved to try.

by the time the conversation was winding down, your phone buzzed with a message from rafe—here—and before you could even process it, the doorbell rang. the timing made you smile, a giddy, unshakable thing that only grew as you imagined him just downstairs, waiting for you. waiting to kiss you the moment you reached him, to pull you close in the car, to sit beside you, hands brushing, the warmth of him something you could sink into.

there weren’t enough words to describe what it felt like to be in love with rafe. he was lightning in your veins, a thrill in your pulse, the kind of presence that made your skin hum and your heart stumble over itself. every bit of him exhilarated you—the way he looked at you, the way he laughed, the way just existing near him felt like standing at the edge of something breathtaking.

“alrighttt,” ivy teased from the tiny rectangle on your laptop screen, dragging out the word with a knowing smirk. “go get your man before you implode.” she waved a hand, shooing you off.

“i’ll text every hour, okay?” you added, mostly directing it toward hazel, who nodded, lips quirking.

“have fun!” devon grinned, throwing up a thumbs-up.

“fun with protection,” hazel added flatly, and your jaw dropped, eyes going wide.

“hazel!” you gasped, half-laughing, half-scandalized.

she only shrugged, entirely unbothered, and waved you off as you ended the call.

you shut your laptop, the nerves settling in properly now, fluttery and insistent. you rushed down the two flights of stairs, your heart thumping louder with each step, and before you even reached the bottom, you could already hear his voice, deep and familiar, threading through the hallway.

“no, the season’s over,” rafe was saying, his tone easy, patient.

your mom hummed, and then—ohhh, drawn out like a realization had just dawned on her. “so, it’s like the seasons of the year? like winter, fall—”

you nearly winced before you heard rafe chuckle, cutting in quickly, “no, no, no.” he sounded amused, not condescending, his usual charm at play. “it’s one season. the season runs from mid-august to mid-november. that’s when we play in the big arenas. the rest of the year is off-season training, then pre-season prep, and sometimes, we have non-official games against other teams.”

“mm,” your mom nodded, absorbing the information. as you stepped up behind her, she turned, startled for a second before her face softened. “oh! i was just talking to rafe about his soccer schedule—it’s quite intensive, actually.” her expression shifted to that motherly concern she always wore when she thought you were stretching yourself too thin.

you bit back a grin, already knowing what was coming.

“it’s like what i tell y/n, you know?” she said, turning back to rafe, who raised his brows, clearly entertained. “always with her head buried in those books. i keep telling her, anything with ‘too much’ or ‘too little’ in front of it is bad. too much studying, and her little head might break.” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “i worry—”

“okay, mhm, i know, mom. i know,” you interjected, nodding quickly as you looped an arm through hers, gently steering her toward the living room before she could launch into another full speech.

rafe, for his part, was valiantly holding back a laugh, his lips twitching as he watched you usher your mom away. you shot him a look, but the fondness in his eyes made your stomach flip.

“your mom complaining because you study too much? that’s unheard of.” rafe teases the moment you step back into the foyer, an embarrassed smile tugging at your lips.

“my mom is unheard of,” you correct, but the words barely register as you take him in. he looked good. he always did, but tonight—tonight he looked unfairly good. black cargos, a deep green sweater snug against his frame, the edge of a white shirt peeking out beneath it. his hair, effortlessly tousled in that way that made him look like he had just rolled out of bed—but you knew better. he did that on purpose.

before you can say anything else, he hooks a finger into the hem of your shirt, tugging you forward. you don’t resist, smiling as the space between you vanishes.

“hi,” you murmur, tilting your chin up as his hand cups your face, thumb brushing featherlight over your cheek.

“hey,” he breathes back, leaning in—so close you can almost taste the mint on his breath. but just as his lips are about to touch yours, he stills.

his voice drops to a whisper. “your sister is staring at us.”

your eyes snap open in horror. mortified. and annoyed.

sure enough, when you turn your head, there she is, standing in the hallway like a tiny executioner, arms crossed, smirk sharp.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you mock, throwing her own words from this morning back at her.

without a beat of hesitation, she pulls out the little flip phone your dad gave her.

“oh my god! don’t actually take the picture!” you gasp, exasperated. behind you, rafe’s quiet chuckle vibrates through your back.

she doesn’t even acknowledge you, just huffs, arms crossing tighter. “dad!” she calls out, voice ringing through the house. “y/n won’t let me take a picture of her and rafe kissing!” she storms off.

you squeeze your eyes shut, dying inside, but rafe only laughs again. the sound is warm, reassuring—just like the way his arms slip around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

“you look pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your shoulder, lingering. “and you smell good.” his mouth trails higher, ghosting over your neck, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

your fingers tighten in his sweater as you exhale, tilting your head just enough to capture his lips in a soft, fleeting kiss. “thank you.” your voice is quieter now, just for him.

you pull back slightly, hands drifting to his shoulders as you study him again. “hmm…” your grin curves slow, playful. “you look nice, but i still can’t tell where we’re going from this outfit.”

he smirks, leaning down for another kiss, this one deeper, slower. when he pulls back, his voice is lower. “that’s kind of the point with surprises.”

you laugh softly as he grabs the duffel bag from your hands.

“we should get going.”

you nod, stepping away. “yeah, i just need to say bye to my parents. i’ll be right out.” you’re already turning when he murmurs his agreement, stepping out the front door.

inside, you find your parents in the living room. your mom is braiding your sister’s hair, her fingers moving with practiced ease.

“hey, i’m heading out. i’ll see you guys tomorrow after school?”

your mom glances up, eyes sweeping over you like she’s checking for something. “you don’t have a thicker sweater? it’s quite cold.”

“it isn’t that cold, she’ll be alright,” your dad interjects, offering you a thumbs-up. “just text us when you get to hazel’s, alright?”

you nod quickly, then turn back to your mom. “i’ll take my good coat, and worst case, i’ll ask rafe for a sweater.” you offer her a reassuring smile.

she studies you for a beat longer, then softens, giving you a warm nod. “okay. have fun.”

you turn on your heel, snatching your coat from the wall hook in one fluid motion before stepping outside. the crisp air rushes to greet you, cool against your flushed cheeks, curling around your skin like a whisper of excitement. the door clicks shut behind you, sealing away the warmth of inside, but you don’t mind—not when rafe is here, waiting.

he leans against his car, fingers idly playing with his keys, the metal glinting under the dim glow of the streetlights. he’s distracted, his head tilted down, but the second you step out, he pauses. his eyes find yours instantly, scanning your face, his lips parting just slightly. “all good?” his voice is gentle, edged with something soft, something careful.

you nod, unable to contain the giddy energy bubbling inside you. your feet carry you to him quickly, almost skipping, like a child running toward something they’ve been waiting all day for. “all good, good, good.” you beam up at him, stretching onto your toes to press a quick, eager kiss to his lips.

his chuckle is quiet, warm, but his arms instinctively settle around your waist, keeping you close. “you’re happy,” he observes, amusement laced in his voice.

your grin widens as you nod. “i’ve got every reason to be.” the words are as much for him as they are a reminder to yourself.

his nose brushes against yours, the smallest touch, but it sends a shiver down your spine. “i love seeing you smile,” he whispers, like it’s a secret meant only for you.

and because it’s him, because it’s always him, you smile even more. “i love you.”

his forehead rests against yours, his eyes locking onto yours like they hold the whole world inside them. “i love you too, baby.”

the drive to your destination is both too slow and far too fast, stretching time and collapsing it all at once. you want to savor every second, but you also ache to get there, wherever there is.

every car ride with rafe is something special. even the short ones, when he’d drop you off at the retirement home, where you’d linger in his car long after he had already parked, just talking, stretching the moment, neither of you wanting to leave, not ready to say goodbye. but the long ones? those were the best. time felt slower then, like the world outside the car didn’t matter, like all that existed was the steady hum of the engine, the soft music threading through the speakers, and the effortless conversation between you.

talking with rafe was easy. being with him was easy. you were always full of things to say, stories to tell, and he was always ready to listen, to laugh, to add his own thoughts like your words were puzzle pieces he was eager to fit together. the soft melody playing in the background only made it all feel more domestic, more right, like something you could do forever.

“remember when we were at the beach, and you said you should have more fun?” he asks suddenly, breaking the quiet hum of conversation.

you nod, thinking back to that day, the way you had sighed and confessed it like it was a secret. “yeah. this is something fun?”

he grins, nodding. “it is.”

your mind spins with possibilities. “is it…” you pause dramatically, narrowing your eyes at him, “roller skating?”

his laugh is easy, shaking his head. “you already guessed that one.” he tilts his head toward the windshield. “we’re almost there, though.”

your gaze follows his, and in the distance, bright lights glow against the night sky, unmistakable and familiar. your heart stutters.

“the fair!” you nearly scream, your excitement bubbling over into your voice. you turn to him, wide-eyed. “oh my god, i haven’t been back in years. i never—”

“find the time?” he finishes smoothly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

you nod, eyes shining. “thank you, thank you!” the words spill out as you grab his face, pressing frantic kisses all over his cheeks, his nose, anywhere you can reach. he just laughs, letting you, his hands resting on your waist.

“this is gonna be so fun.” you bounce slightly in your seat, your gaze snapping back to the road, watching as the fair grows closer, the colors sharpening, the lights glittering. anticipation buzzes under your skin. “i hope you’re ready to spend the next fifteen hours here, because i am not leaving until we’ve played every game. oh! we have to go on the ferris wheel.” you turn back to him, eyes pleading. “and we have to do the duck fishing game! a lot of people find it kinda boring, but i always loved it as a kid. you get fun prizes!" you ramble, the memories flooding back, making you smile at the thought of it all.

"anddd!" you continue, as rafe parks the car and unbuckles your seatbelt for you, "we can do the can knockdown and the basketball shootout! though i’m not very good at that..." you tilt your head, biting your lip.

"basketball shootout? that’s my game," rafe says, his tone teasing yet reassuring. "don’t worry, i'll show you how to score." a grin spreads across your face, and you can’t help but lean in, kissing him again, your lips lingering against his, sharing a moment of warmth.

when you step out of the car, rafe briefly checks his parking, but you're too eager to wait. you tug gently at his hand, your excitement bubbling over. "okayyy! let’s go!" you urge, practically bouncing on your toes.

"okay, someone’s excited," rafe murmurs with a smile, pulling you close, his arm sliding around your shoulder as you both start walking toward the fair, the lights ahead like a dream come to life.

the fair was alive with energy, a constant hum of voices blending with the sounds of laughter and music. the air was thick with the scent of cotton candy and popcorn, and you could feel the vibrant pulse of excitement as people swarmed the grounds. scattered among the crowd were a few familiar faces from school, most of them nodding or waving at rafe from a distance, though there were one or two who actually stopped to chat with him for a moment.

you dove into the carnival games, clearly more excited than anything else. your enthusiasm was contagious as you breezed through everything, from the ring toss and pick-a-duck to the basketball shootout, can knockdown, and the bb gun shooting booth. you even tried your hand at the hammer strength test and the wheel of fortune. each game offered a prize, and by the time you were done, you had racked up so many stuffed animals that rafe had to make a quick trip to his car to stash a couple in the backseat. you kept only the one he won for you, clutching it close as if it were a prized possession.

"i’ve got a perfect name for him," you grinned when rafe returned, slipping his hand into yours. you hugged the bear tight to your chest.

"yeah?" he asked, a curious glint in his eyes.

"rafe jr!" you exclaimed, your face lighting up with mischief.

rafe paused, turning to look at you with a playful smile. "he’s your son. isn’t he adorable?" you ask him.

"i think he’s our son," rafe said, his tone teasing but warm.

you hummed thoughtfully, "yeah, from nine a.m. to ten p.m., he can be our son. but at night, he’s all yours. i need my eight hours of sleep," you joked, and rafe gave you a mock disapproving look.

"unbelievable," he muttered, feigning indignation as he took the bear from you. "give me my son. you don’t even deserve him," he laughed, shaking his head as you giggled.

"let’s do the mirror palace," rafe said suddenly, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the next attraction.

"oh, no," you groaned, a playful whine creeping into your voice. "i suck at mazes. do you know how many bruises i've gotten because of this place?" you complained as he led you into the line. he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close.

"you were probably between six and ten years old the last time you were here," he teased, his lips brushing your shoulder. "but don't worry, we’ll stick together. i’ll make sure we get out without any bruises."

you couldn’t help but smile at his reassurance, finding comfort in his presence. "okay," you agreed, your voice soft. "can we do the ferris wheel too?" you whispered, hopeful.

he gave you a tender smile and nodded. "we’ll do the ferris wheel, baby," he whispered back, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. you smiled faintly, feeling the warmth of his affection, and he kissed you again, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away.

the line for the maze isn’t long, and rafe makes the wait feel like nothing at all. "hey, two tickets, please," he says, voice low but casual as he pulls his wallet out, handing over a stack of bills. the cashier, with a soft smile, takes them, passing back two tickets with practiced ease. "here you go," she says, her tone polite but robotic, "no running and no backtracking. have fun." the words sound like a rehearsed mantra, something she'd said to every other person before.

"no backtracking?" you ask, your voice tinged with nerves as rafe laces his fingers through yours, pulling you toward the entrance. "what if we get lost? what if we—"

"baby, we won't get lost," he laughs, that deep, confident sound that always manages to settle your racing thoughts. he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head, the warmth of his lips grounding you. "this is a game for little kids. we’ll make it, no problem." you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s probably right. you nod, taking another step forward into the maze, the twisted corridors pulling you further in.

the maze is oddly quiet, aside from the occasional echo of laughter or giggling in the distance. the floors beneath your feet are dotted with glowing lights that form shifting patterns, while above, the ceiling is impossibly high—so high that you can't quite make out its end, thanks to the mirrored surface reflecting everything around you. it all feels like a strange dream, the kind where you’re falling endlessly but never quite hit the ground.

"god, this is so weird," you mutter, as rafe gently tugs you back just in time to avoid you running into yet another mirror. "i swear, we’ve been down this hallway already." you stop in your tracks, scanning your surroundings. rafe continues walking, but his hand, still clutching yours, halts him after a few steps.

"we haven’t been down this hallway yet," he says, looking over his shoulder at you. "i’d know." his tone is teasing, but you can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

"all the hallways look the same," you protest, "how would you know?"

"i’m a pro at this," he grins, tugging you closer. "you just don’t believe me." his hands settle on your waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of your shirt. "or trust me," he murmurs, lips barely grazing your ear as he pulls you even closer.

"i’m too young to die, and i can’t die in a maze, rafe," you whine softly, your voice barely audible. he chuckles, the sound warm against your skin.

"don’t be whiny," he teases, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you can even respond. your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him closer.

"i’m not whiny…" you protest, though the words are muffled as his breath fans across your lips. your eyes flutter closed, and you exhale softly, the warmth of his presence overwhelming in the best way.

"really?" rafe’s voice is low and teasing as his lips brush against yours, barely making contact. "because you sound pretty whiny to me." his hands slide up your back, sending a chill through your spine as his lips trace the curve of your jaw. he pulls you flush against him, his body pressing into yours with a teasing urgency.

"rafe…" you sigh, words getting caught in your throat. you want to beg him to kiss you, to press you up against one of these endless mirrors and kiss you until you're breathless, but somehow, the words won’t come. instead, you lean into him, your lips chasing his in desperate need.

"yeah, pretty girl?" rafe’s voice is rough, husky, and it makes your knees feel weak. your heart races in your chest as you try to form a coherent thought, but all you can focus on is him. his presence. the heat between you. your lips are barely a breath away, and you lean in, chasing him as your fingers tangle in his hair.

he pulls away just enough for you to feel the loss, his lips brushing against your skin. "tell me," he insists, his voice barely a whisper, but it carries an urgency that makes your breath catch. he kisses everywhere but your lips, trailing soft, teasing touches along your jaw and neck. his nose skims your skin, the sensation making your body shiver.

"want you to kiss me…" you manage to murmur, almost begging, your hands tightening in his hair. rafe hums, the sound vibrating through your chest.

"wasn't too hard now, was it?" he whispers, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing mockery of what you’ve been yearning for. and before you can respond, his lips crash against yours. it’s frantic, hungry, as if he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you. you’re pushed up against the mirror, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body.

his hands find their way to your waist, pressing you harder against him as his tongue slips into your mouth, coaxing a soft gasp from you. the kiss deepens, and it’s no longer just a kiss—it’s consuming, overwhelming, a blur of heat and touch. the world fades away, and all you can think about is rafe. his lips. his hands. him.

the kiss drags on, relentless, until you’re both left gasping for air. rafe pulls back slightly, brushing his lips against yours with a soft smile. "don’t think that’s ever gonna get old," he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied. he takes your hand, tugging you along deeper into the maze.

eventually, though, he does get you both out. you’d almost lost hope twice, ready to scream for help, but somehow, you made it out together.

with his hand nestled in yours, fingers laced together like a quiet promise, you wandered through the fair, the golden glow of string lights casting soft halos over the crowd. laughter and the distant chime of game bells filled the air as you played a few more rounds, the scent of caramel and fried dough clinging to the night. finally, you reached the ferris wheel, its towering silhouette outlined against the deep blue sky.

"line's a little long," rafe noted, eyes flicking toward the slow-moving queue stretching toward the ticket booth. he exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. "i'm gonna head to the food stand and grab us something small while we wait. that okay?"

you nodded quickly. "okay."

he leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against your lips before you could say anything else. you caught his sleeve as he pulled away, adding, "can you also get me some water?"

"mm, be right back," he murmured, squeezing your fingers before slipping into the crowd.

left alone, you took the moment to respond to a few messages, the ferris wheel’s bright lights reflecting in your screen. the line inched forward, and just as you pocketed your phone, rafe reappeared, pressing a warm pretzel wrapped in a napkin into your hands.

"here," he said, and you quickly took a bite, the buttery salt melting on your tongue.

"you didn't get anything?" you asked, noticing he only held your bottle of water and a can of coke.

"not hungry enough for anything right now," he shrugged, tucking his arm around your shoulder as the line moved forward again. without a second thought, you held up your pretzel to his lips.

he grinned and took a bite, murmuring a muffled, "thanks," as he chewed. you smiled and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

at the register, rafe pulled out his wallet, handing over cash for two tickets. standing closer to the wheel now, he tilted his head up, studying it. "jesus," he muttered under his breath. "when you're this close, it’s really high..."

you grinned, nudging him. "got a little fear of heights you forgot to mention?"

he rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "no fear of heights," he countered, feigning nonchalance. "just didn’t think it’d be this tall."

when the attendant swung open the little cabin door, rafe let you step in first before sliding in beside you. the seat was softer than expected, and as the wheel began its slow ascent, he draped an arm around you, settling comfortably.

"you can see the whole island from the top," you mused, eyes sparkling as you glanced at him.

rafe smirked. "yeah?"

"mm-hmm," you hummed, then added mischievously, "and don’t worry—it goes reallll slow."

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "i’m not scared of heights," he insisted.

"uh huh." you shrugged, taking another bite of your pretzel.

the cabin continued its gentle climb, and a small window near the side caught your attention. curiosity got the best of you, and before rafe could react, you popped your head out for a better view. the wind brushed against your face, cool and sweet, but before you could even take it all in, rafe's hand was gripping your waist, tugging you back in with a firm urgency.

"okay, that's enough," he muttered, brows drawn together, his jaw tight.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up as he shot you a glare that wasn’t nearly as serious as he wanted it to be.

if he wasn’t so tense, you might’ve asked to go again. but seeing the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his grip on you lingered even after the moment had passed, you decided against it. you’d spare him—for now.

ooh! a photobooth!" you yell out, excitement bubbling over as you grab rafe’s hand and pull him toward the big red box in the distance. the glossy surface gleams under the carnival lights, and you practically bounce on your feet as you take in the example pictures displayed on the side. “look at this! i think it’s new…” your fingers trail over the smooth panel, eyes scanning the details. before you can even turn to ask rafe if he wants to take some, he’s already ducking inside, reaching back to tug you onto his lap with effortless ease.

“let’s see…” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin as he scrolls through the options on the screen. you pull the small curtain shut, enclosing the two of you in the intimate space, the air thick with anticipation. “black and white or color?” rafe asks, his chin resting on your shoulder, voice low and unhurried. you tilt your head in thought before deciding, “uhh… black and white.” the choice feels right, timeless. you fish out a couple of coins from your pocket, sliding them into the slot with a soft clink.

“okay, ready?” rafe asks, his blue eyes flickering with amusement as he watches you. you nod, grinning. but then a thought crosses your mind, and you blurt out, “wait, how many does it take?”

“four, i think,” rafe replies just as the first flash goes off. instinctively, you stick your tongue out, only realizing after that your hair is a mess. laughter spills from your lips as you quickly try to smooth it down, but rafe is faster—his fingers weave through the strands, gently fixing it as the countdown begins again.

“oh, god, the countdown is so fast!” you squeal, both of you scrambling to pose, but it’s useless—you end up just laughing at each other, faces flushed with amusement.

“that one is cute. look at your smile,” rafe grins, tilting his head to study the preview. your cheeks warm at his words, a touch of shyness creeping in. rafe notices, his own smile softening before he leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek just as the third picture snaps.

the final countdown begins, and rafe’s fingers—gentle yet firm—grasp your chin, turning your face toward him. “last one,” he murmurs, a teasing glint in his eyes. you don’t hesitate. instead, you wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him in, lips meeting his in a kiss just as the last flash goes off.

when you pull away, rafe chases your lips for a second, stealing another soft kiss before finally letting you slide off his lap. you push the curtain open, stepping out into the cool night air, the distant hum of carnival rides and laughter filling the space around you.

seconds later, the photo strip slides out from the machine. you grab it eagerly, holding it up. “they came out so cute! look!” you beam, showing rafe as he steps beside you.

his gaze flickers over the strip, a small smile tugging at his lips. “they did. the black and white looks good,” he agrees, his fingers effortlessly intertwining with yours as you both start walking again, your eyes still fixed on the little captured moments.

they were perfect.

"i had so much fun, thank you for bringing me here," you say, glancing at rafe as the two of you walk through the parking lot, the cool night air settling over your skin. the distant hum of traffic, the flickering neon signs, the soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement—it all feels like a dream you don’t want to wake up from.

"i’m happy you liked it," rafe replies, his voice carrying a certain secrecy that immediately piques your curiosity. "but the date’s not over yet."

you blink at him, lips curling into a smile. "it’s not?"

he shakes his head, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "nope. one more surprise. now get in." he nudges you playfully, holding the passenger door open like the perfect gentleman he pretends not to be.

your heart flutters as you slide inside, excitement buzzing through you despite the dull ache creeping into your feet. the night is stretching on, dark and velvety, but instead of feeling tired, you feel alive, giddy with the thought that the evening isn’t over yet.

"can i try to guess this one?" you ask the moment you buckle in, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

rafe chuckles, shaking his head as he starts the car. "you know, it wouldn’t kill you to let it be a surprise. ever heard of ‘curiosity killed the cat’?"

"and what brought it back?" you counter smoothly, neatly tucking the photobooth pictures into your bag. "the truth."

he scoffs, tapping his fingers against the wheel. "even if i gave you hints, you’d still be terrible at guessing."

your mouth drops open in exaggerated offense. "no! your hints just suck!"

"oh, my hints suck?" he laughs, shooting you a knowing look. "i literally said you might walk away with some prizes, and you thought i was taking you to a casino."

you roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile stretching across your face. "it was a solid guess! a casino is a place where you can win things!"

"try thinking about why i asked you to bring warm pajamas."

you pause, tilting your head as you study him. he’s taking you somewhere cold, that much is obvious—but where? and why?

the rest of the ride is spent grilling rafe, who remains infuriatingly tight-lipped, dodging every one of your guesses with a smug grin. the city lights blur past in streaks of gold and red, and eventually, the car rolls to a stop near the docks.

you step out, scanning your surroundings. the air is thick with the scent of salt and freshly grilled seafood, the restaurants nearby buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses. but none of this explains why he told you to bring warm pajamas.

he takes your hand and leads you past the restaurants, past the shops, past everything—until you’re stepping through a smaller, tucked-away entrance that spills out onto the docks, where at least fifty boats are lined up in neat rows.

"are we getting on a boat?" you ask, glancing at him in surprise.

he still doesn’t answer. just pulls you along, his grip firm but gentle.

"rafe, i—"

the words catch in your throat.

because suddenly, you see it.

a boat, different from all the others, its edges wrapped in warm golden lights that twinkle against the dark water. flower petals are scattered along the deck like something out of a dream. a table is set for two, draped in crisp white linen, with two gleaming cloches covering the plates beneath. and above it all, the sky is painted in breathtaking shades of pink and lavender, the last remnants of the sunset bleeding into the horizon.

you don’t move. you don’t breathe.

rafe steps onto the boat first, setting the bags down before turning back to you, his expression softer now, almost nervous. he holds out a hand. "c’mon."

your fingers tremble as they slip into his.

"rafe," you whisper, voice barely above the lapping of the waves, already feeling the sting of tears gathering behind your eyes.

rafe reaches behind you, fingers brushing against the back of the chair as he grabs something—then, turning back to you, he reveals a bouquet of flowers.

"before you say anything, i just need to do this," he murmurs, voice quieter now, as he hands them to you.

your hands tighten around the bouquet instinctively, but you barely register the softness of the petals, too caught up in the way his eyes flicker, how his throat bobs as he swallows.

"there's a note inside," he continues, rubbing the back of his neck as if he's trying to steady himself. "i wasn’t sure if i’d be able to say what i needed to say, so i wrote it down. but now that you’re standing right in front of me..." he hesitates, glancing down at the bouquet, then back at you. "i think i want to read it to you."

your breath catches.

he reaches into the bouquet, pulling out a small, neatly folded note, his fingers careful as he smooths it open. the sun is dipping lower, casting everything in gold and amber, and for a moment, you just watch him. the glow of the fading light makes his features impossibly soft, the strands of his tousled hair illuminated like something out of a dream.

his eyes scan the paper, then flicker up to you. he exhales sharply.

"god," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

your brows pull together. "you don’t have to—"

"no, no," he interrupts quickly, waving a hand. "it’s not that. it’s just... you—" he exhales again, almost frustrated with himself. "you look really good right now. i can’t think straight."

your heart stumbles over itself.

heat spreads across your cheeks, and you bite back a grin, stepping closer to him. "you’re awful."

"i’m awful?" he scoffs, tilting his head at you, a smile curling at the edges of his lips. "you’re the one over there, completely wrecking my concentration."

his voice is soft, teasing, and the way he’s looking at you—like there’s no one else in the world—makes your chest ache. without thinking, you rise onto your toes, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss.

he kisses you back, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. but as soon as your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, he pulls away with a pointed look.

"see?" he murmurs, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

you throw your head back in laughter. "okay, okay! i’m sorry! you have my undivided, uninterrupting attention."

his lips twitch into a smirk before he clears his throat, bringing his attention back to the note in his hands.

his voice is steady as he begins to read.

"last semester, our science teacher told us that romantic love activates the same brain regions as drug addiction—especially the dopamine reward system."

he glances up at you briefly, the corner of his mouth lifting like he already knows how silly he sounds. but he keeps going.

"at the time, i didn’t think much of it. honestly, i probably forgot about it five minutes later. but a week after our first tutoring session, that random fact came rushing back. because by then, i wasn’t just falling for you—i was being consumed by you. every little thing you did, every quirk, every expression. the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something so intricate i could barely follow. the way you smiled. the way you blinked, even."

he pauses, his jaw clenching for a second before he continues.

"i couldn’t understand why i couldn’t stop thinking about you—why you had settled so deeply into my mind, in my bones, under my skin. and then, suddenly, i did. that fact from last semester snapped back into place."

his voice is quieter now, more careful, like every word is something he needs you to hear.

"you’re the first thought in my mind when i wake up and the last thing i think of before i fall asleep. you are my favorite part of every day."

you feel your breath hitch, your hands tightening around the bouquet.

"i will always feel sorry for anyone who never gets the chance to know you the way i do—to be wrapped in your kindness, to hear your laughter over and over, to know what your lips feel like, to be loved by you."

his gaze flickers up to yours, a quiet intensity in his eyes.

"you are extraordinary, and i know you’re going to go places neither of us can even dream of."

he hesitates, his fingers gripping the edges of the paper slightly, like the words are heavier now.

"if you’ll let me, i’d be honored to stand by your side for as long as you’ll have me."

a beat of silence.

"will you be my girlfriend?"

you don’t realize you’re crying until you’re frantically wiping at your face, nodding—nodding so hard it almost makes you dizzy.

"yeah?" rafe breathes, a laugh slipping from his lips as he pulls you in.

"yes!" you cry, grinning through the tears. "are you serious?"

his hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he shakes his head with a soft smile. "you can’t cry on our first date," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

"you can’t make me cry on our first date," you sniffle, voice barely above a whisper.

"touché," he murmurs.

and then his lips find yours.

the kiss is slow, unhurried—like he has all the time in the world. like he wants to take his time. his fingers slide into your hair, holding you close, and when you press against him, you don’t know if you want to smile or cry all over again.

but you do know one thing.

there is nowhere else you’d rather be.

rafe pulls away, his lips barely ghosting over yours as he exhales, his nose brushing against your skin like he’s memorizing the feel of you. “let’s sit, yeah?” his voice is low, gentle, and you nod, but not before pressing the softest kiss against his lips. he smiles against your mouth, then steps back, pulling out your chair with an effortless sort of grace. you settle into the seat, placing your flowers carefully beside you, the delicate petals brushing against your arm.

your arms tighten around yourself as you take in the scene before you—an intimate table set under the open sky, flickering candlelight casting golden hues across the linen, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the boat. it’s beautiful, breathtaking, and it knocks the air right out of your lungs. your throat tightens as tears well up, your voice trembling despite your best effort to steady it. “how did you plan this all in one day?”

rafe’s brows knit together like the question itself is absurd, and he reaches across the table, his hand warm as it closes over yours. “one day?” he echoes, shaking his head, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. “baby, i’ve been planning this for two weeks. three if you count the seven days straight i begged my dad for the boat.” he says it so matter-of-factly, like it was the most natural thing in the world to spend weeks making something perfect just for you.

your breath stutters as you swipe at your damp cheeks with the back of your hand, overwhelmed. “t-this is…” the words get caught in your throat, and rafe watches you, his face soft with affection but laced with the slightest bit of concern.

“baby.” he moves before you can blink, dropping to his knees beside your chair, his hands resting on your thighs as he looks up at you, all blue eyes and steady presence. “if i knew this would make you cry this much, i would’ve just taken you to mcdonald’s.” his lips twitch into a teasing grin, and the laugh that bubbles out of you is watery but real. you lean forward until your forehead touches his, exhaling shakily.

“no, n-no, it’s perfect… i j-just…” you try to gather yourself, grounding yourself in the way his hands hold you like you’re something precious, something he never wants to let go of. you breathe deeply, eyes flickering between his. “i think i’ve been telling myself for so long that i didn’t want this—the romance, the grand gestures, all of it. convinced myself i didn’t need it, because it’s easier to not be disappointed by something when you’ve made yourself believe you never even wanted it in the first place. but now…” you swallow hard, your fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt. “this whole date, this entire day… it’s been incredible. and i can’t believe i let myself miss out on you for almost two decades.”

rafe’s gaze flickers with something unreadable, something deep. he cups your face, tilting it ever so slightly. “i’m here now,” he murmurs, the words like a vow. “and i’m not going anywhere for at least another couple of decades.”

he pulls you into his arms before you can respond, guiding you against his chest, his chin resting atop your head. his fingers thread into your hair, grounding, soothing. “i’m sorry i’m such a mess,” you mumble into the warmth of his skin.

“you’re my mess,” he murmurs, lips pressing softly against your temple.

it takes five tissues and a few deep breaths before you’re composed enough to properly sit down and eat. you lift the cloche, and immediately, the rich steam curls into the cool evening air. the scent hits you next—warm, savory, mouthwatering, like something fresh out of a five-star kitchen. your eyes sweep over the dish, taking in the careful presentation, the attention to detail. “this looks delicious…” your voice is tinged with awe as you glance up at him, suspicious. “who made this?” a part of you half-expects a chef to step out from behind the mast.

rafe leans back in his chair, smirking. “i did.”

you arch a brow. “no, you didn’t. you were with me all day.”

his grin deepens as he watches your skepticism unfold. “where do you think i went after i left your house this morning?”

you narrow your eyes, still not convinced. and he just laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe you’d doubt him.

"i should probably explain how i planned all of this," he says, voice smooth, almost sheepish, like he's letting you in on some grand secret. you nod, twirling your fork into the soft, buttery pasta on your plate, waiting for him to continue.

"this boat is my family's, but really, it's my dad's. no one touches it without his permission, and he’s very… very particular about it." rafe exhales a small laugh, shaking his head as if recalling some past scolding. "but i wanted to do dinner here. thought it’d be more fun, more private. so i asked him—begged him, really—promised i wouldn't break anything, or at least, i'd try not to." his lips curve into a smirk before he leans in slightly, his voice dropping as if this is the part that matters most. "and finally, when i told him i really wanted to impress you… he said yes." he watches your face, gauging your reaction. "i think he likes you, which is a first."

your heart lightens, the weight of uncertainty easing just a little. his father likes you? you hadn’t been sure.

"really? he seemed a little…" you hesitate, searching for the right word.

"frigid?" rafe supplies, already nodding like he knew that’s what you were going to say. "yeah, he’s cold. has a hard time showing affection, all that shit. but he’s a good dad. we have our ups and downs, but he loves us, wants the best for us—most of the time." there's something almost distant in the way he says it, like he's repeating a fact rather than feeling it, but you don't press.

he exhales, shaking off the moment. "anyway, the plan was always dinner. but then, after i picked you up from the elderly home two weeks ago, we went to the beach, and you said you wanted to start having more fun." he glances at you, eyes twinkling under the warm glow of the string lights. "so i started thinking—what’s fun? i mean, dinner’s great, dinner and a movie is great, especially with you, but i wanted something more. i thought about a roller rink, ice skating, maybe an aquarium or the zoo. but the fair just felt… right. versatile, fun, a little chaotic."

you smile, warmth settling in your chest. all of those options would have been perfect, because they'd be with him.

"initially, everything that happened yesterday wouldn’t have happened," rafe admits, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his features. you nod, a little sad at the reminder.

"the plan was simple. you’d stay over at mine, we’d be lazy, stay in bed till noon. my parents and wheeze were coming back at two, so i figured i’d leave you with her for a couple hours. topper’s dad owns the yacht club right by the dock, so topper set it up so we could use their kitchen. i was gonna cook, come back, pick you up, take you to the fair, and text topper when we were close so he could go back, heat up the food, plate it here, and leave." rafe shakes his head, smiling at how much effort it had taken. "same plan, really, except we were at your house instead of mine. i cooked, picked you up, took you to the fair, texted topper fifteen minutes ago, he came, reheated everything, plated it, and left."

you stare at him, stunned. "jesus… that’s…" you start, grinning as you shake your head in disbelief.

rafe laughs, running a hand through his hair before picking up his fork. "yeah. and i hope you like it, because this is literally the only meal i can make."

you chew, smiling against your bite. "you know, you could’ve saved yourself a lot of time if you just ordered the food."

he shrugs, like the thought had never even crossed his mind. "i wanted to cook for you."

your heart stutters, just a little. "well, it’s really good," you admit, nudging his foot lightly under the table. "even if it’s the only meal you can make."

he grins. "better than nothing."

it took nearly two hours to finish eating, though neither of you minded. conversation flowed so easily, conversation leading to laughter, to teasing, to the occasional soft gaze that lingered just a little too long. the food sat half-forgotten between you, growing cold while you got lost in each other. the whole evening made you forget—truly forget—every dark cloud that had loomed over you in the past months. none of it mattered here. none of it existed. all that was real was this moment, the warmth of rafe's presence, the way he looked at you like nothing else in the world held his attention.

after the last bite, rafe took the wheel, guiding the boat a little further out into the open water. not too far—just enough so the shore looked like something out of a dream, the golden glow of restaurant lights stretching across the waves, bars and shops humming with distant life. you curled up together on the bow, your head rising and falling with his steady breath, his arms wrapped securely around you. the throw blanket, already there like it had been waiting for this moment, draped over both of you. when you tilt your head up, you find his eyes already on you, like he had been watching you all along.

"thank you for this," you whisper, voice barely louder than the gentle slosh of water against the boat. "this has been the most fun night." your eyes glisten in the soft light, emotions swelling in a way that makes your heart ache in the best way.

"you don’t need to thank me," he murmurs, brushing his lips over yours, a fleeting, teasing touch. "i did it with pleasure. you’re my favorite person to be around, baby."

your smile is small, but it holds so much, and you find his lips again, kissing him once, then again, and again, unable to stop yourself. "still gonna thank you," you breathe, nuzzling into him. "i would've been happy with just a mcdonald’s date, but you went the extra… extra mile. you didn’t have to do that."

rafe scoffs, his face twisting in a way that tells you he hates the mere thought. "you’re too good for a mcdonald’s date," he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. his lips trail down your jaw, slow and deliberate. "you’ve gotta know your worth…" the words are a murmur against your skin, his mouth lingering along your jawline, up to your ear. his teeth catch your earlobe gently, the softest bite, and your fingers dig into his bicep instinctively.

"please…" the word leaves you in a breath, but the way it sounds—soft, needy—makes rafe tense for a beat.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. you’re so close your noses brush, sharing the same air. he’s asking you something without speaking, his gaze searching yours. you nod, slow and certain, and then his lips are on yours, the kiss stealing the breath from your lungs as he eases you down onto the soft cushions beneath you.

the kiss is dizzying, has your mind floating, thoughts scattering like grains of sand in the wind. rafe kisses you like he’s been starving for it, like tasting you is the only thing that makes sense. his hands are impossibly warm, feverish against your skin, and soon he’s caging you beneath him, pressing closer, deeper. his lips leave yours only to travel down your neck, and your breath stutters, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

"rafe…" his name is barely a whisper, a plea, as your hands tug at the fabric of his shirt. you need him closer.

he doesn’t make you wait. his shirt is off in a second, discarded somewhere in the dark, and his hands skim the hem of your top, fingers toying with the fabric before he pauses. his gaze finds yours again, softer this time. "you’re sure?" he asks, voice quiet, careful.

you nod, your hands sliding into his hair as you pull him in, kissing him slowly, deeply. "i’m sure," you murmur against his lips.

he pulls your top over your head, tosses it aside like nothing else matters but this. his mouth is on your skin immediately, mapping you out with slow, careful devotion, like he has all the time in the world. he kisses down your neck, lingers there, like he wants to memorize the way you shudder beneath him. his lips trail lower, between your breasts, his tongue and teeth leaving red marks behind—deep, burning reminders that you’ll feel long after the night is over.

"god, you're so fucking beautiful," rafe groans as he unhooks your bra with a precision that should be concerning—but the thought barely forms before his mouth is on you, his lips wrapping around your nipple, and suddenly, you can’t think at all.

your breath catches in your throat, a soft, shuddering gasp spilling from your lips as heat shoots straight through you. your fingers tangle in his hair, instinct taking over as you pull him closer, urging him on. "oh… oh—" the sound escapes you in a breathless whimper, pleasure twisting sharp and sweet through your body. your free hand fists the throw blanket beside you, lips parting as your head tips back into the pillow. the sensation is overwhelming, toeing the line between pleasure and something almost too intense, too much—but you don’t want him to stop.

rafe switches between your nipples, sucking and teasing until they’re left swollen, aching, but before you can even process the sensation, he’s moving lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. the warmth of his breath sends a shiver through you, but your mind stays hazy, pliant, following wherever he leads.

two firm taps against your thigh. "up," he murmurs, and without thinking, you obey, lifting your hips like it’s second nature. he strips you bare in one swift motion, your skirt and underwear slipping down and away before you can so much as blink. the cool air kisses your exposed skin, but the heat of rafe’s mouth follows a moment later, his lips dragging slow, purposeful kisses from your lower stomach downward, inching closer, closer—

your breath catches. he pauses. his gaze flickers up to meet yours, something dark and unreadable swimming in his eyes. "tell me you want it."

at first, the words sound like nothing more than a demand, thick with lust. but when you really look at him—when you see the way he holds himself there, waiting—you realize he’s asking for more than just permission. he’s asking for certainty.

"i want it," you whisper, the plea slipping out without hesitation, breathy and soft. "please…"

something shifts in his expression, something unreadable yet electric, and then he’s gone—no, not gone—he’s there, right there, between your legs, his mouth stealing the very breath from your lungs.

the moment rafe’s tongue drags through your folds, pleasure slams into you so hard your mind blanks. your hands fly to your mouth, muffling the moan that tries to rip free, but it does nothing to quiet the way your body trembles beneath him. his grip tightens on your thigh, firm and unyielding, holding you in place as his tongue plunges deeper, tasting you, savoring you like a starving man.

everything else fades—thoughts, time, reality—until the only thing left is sensation. his mouth. his tongue. the slow, torturous way he builds you up, pushing you higher, higher, until you’re on the verge of tears.

"rafe… rafee…!" his name tumbles from your lips in a soft, breathless cry, your hips rolling helplessly against his mouth, desperate for more, for anything, for everything. your back arches, fingers tangling in his hair, clutching tight like you don’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.

he doesn’t stop. not as your body trembles, not as pleasure coils tighter, hotter, unbearable. not as tears burn the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it. he keeps going, tongue lapping and lacking along your sweet cunt, dragging you to the very edge of bliss until you’re trembling, right there, ready to break—

and then he pulls away.

"no… no, no—" the whimper leaves you before you can stop it, pure desperation twisting in your chest as your hands fumble down between your thighs, chasing the release he so cruelly denied. but before you can touch yourself, rafe tsks, catching your wrists with ease.

"uh-uh," he murmurs, his voice thick with something dark and dangerous. still gripping your wrists, he rises to his knees, unbuckling his pants with deliberate slowness. the hunger in his eyes makes your breath stutter.

his bulge alone leaves little to the imagination, but when he finally pushes his pants down, your lips part slightly, breath hitching as you take him in.

you'd seen him before—felt him before, had his cock in your mouth, remembered how he'd stuffed your mouth, memorized the way he stretched your throat—but somehow, the reality of it fitting inside you hadn’t fully processed until now.

your pulse quickens. there’s no way. no way in hell—

but rafe is already leaning down, tilting your chin so your gaze locks with his and only his. his eyes are molten in the dim light, steady and unshakable as he brushes his lips over yours, a whisper of warmth. "trust me, yeah?" his voice is low, rough, but so, so gentle. "just gotta trust me… i’ll make you feel good, i promise." it's hard not to believe him.

your stomach flips, nerves twisting with something softer, something deeper. slowly, you nod, and rafe rewards you with a lingering kiss—soft, patient, meant to soothe.

as his lips trail down your jaw, your arms instinctively loop around his neck, pulling him closer. he keeps you distracted, kissing you deeply, pulling you under his spell as his hands guide your thighs apart.

your breath stutters when you feel him there—thick and hot, his tip gliding through your slick folds, teasing, testing. your body tenses. "r-rafe…" you stammer, voice unsteady, eyes flying open to meet his.

he’s already watching you.

"you’re okay," he murmurs, pressing a reassuring kiss against your lips, his thumb stroking your hip. "you’re alright."

then he’s pushing in, forcing your cunt to expand and take all of him and your eyes fill with tears.

your walls stretches around him, foreign and overwhelming, a gasp breaking free as you clutch at his hair, fingers curling tight. the stretch is slow, unrelenting, inch by inch as he sinks deeper, forcing you to take him, molding you to fit him.

"breathe," he urges, his voice firm but soothing, and only then do you realize you’ve been holding your breath. you exhale shakily, thighs trembling around his hips.

"fuck," rafe rasps, his forehead nearly touching yours, breath warm against your lips as he sinks into you, slow but deep, stretching you, filling you completely. the moment he starts to move, sliding in and out of your slick, trembling heat, a shudder wracks through you, pleasure blooming so intensely it steals the breath from your lungs.

your nails dig into his shoulders, your body clinging to his instinctively, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of sensation. "oh god—rafe, god—" his name spills from your lips in a broken sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, not from pain, not from anything but the unbearable bliss of having him like this, of being his.

you wrap your leg around his waist, and his body answers before his mind does, his hips rolling forward, pushing deeper, pressing impossibly close. a guttural groan rips from his throat, his hands gripping your hips like he never wants to let go. "fuck, baby," he groans, voice thick and ragged, "you feel so fucking good…"

he thrusts into you again, and again, and again, each movement more intense than the last, like he’s trying to carve himself into you, like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, as if you weren’t already his.

rafe’s fingers dig into your hips, gripping so tight you think you’ll wear his bruises for days, a mark of this moment, of him. his thrusts are relentless, slamming into you, pushing you higher, higher, until the pleasure is so consuming it’s nearly unbearable. the ocean roars around you, but it’s nothing compared to the symphony of moans and breathless cries spilling from your lips, to the desperate slap of skin against skin as he takes you apart piece by piece.

he looks wrecked—utterly, beautifully ruined—his jaw clenched, eyes dark and hazy, drowning in lust, in you. "fucking christ," he grits out, voice wrecked, nearly a growl, his head tipping back as your walls flutter around him, gripping him like you never want to let him go.

you can’t think, can’t form a single coherent thought beyond the white-hot pleasure slamming into your every nerve. he fucks you senseless, over and over, hitting that devastating spot inside you again and again until you’re sobbing, whimpering, utterly wrecked beneath him.

"rafe… m’gonna— i can’t— n-need—" you babble, voice breaking, tears slipping down your cheeks as the pleasure coils tighter, unbearable, uncontrollable.

"hold it," he pants, forehead brushing against yours, his own restraint fraying, his body trembling with the effort. you want to obey, want to listen, but you can’t—god, you can’t. "please… please!" your voice is nearly unrecognizable, high and desperate, trembling as he shifts, lifting your thigh higher, forcing himself even deeper.

"just a little longer, babygirl," he rasps, mouth trailing over your parted lips, kissing you like he’s savoring your surrender. but you can’t kiss him back—you can’t do anything but take it, take him, take every last ounce of pleasure he gives you.

"i c-can’t… can’t—!" your body is wrecked, overstimulated, pushed past the point of reason as he pounds into your already trembling, sore cunt.

"that’s it," he groans, voice tight, desperate. "so fucking good, baby… doing so good for me." his rhythm falters, thrusts growing sloppy, more frantic, his control unraveling as he chases his own high.

"cum, baby."

his words crash over you like a tidal wave, and before you can even process it, you’re breaking—shattering—pleasure detonating through you so violently your vision goes white. your entire body trembles, clenches, your mind floating into oblivion as you come harder than you ever have, tears slipping from your lashes, lips parting in a silent scream.

your heart is racing, hammering so wildly you think it might just burst right out of your chest.

rafe eases out of you carefully, and you wince at the overwhelming sensitivity, your body thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. his hands are on you instantly, soothing, tracing gentle circles along your waist as he watches you with quiet concern. "you good?" he murmurs, voice low, intimate, like it’s just the two of you in the whole world.

even as exhaustion settles deep in your bones, as every muscle in your body hums with the ache of what you’ve just done, you nod. "that was…" you trail off, searching for the right words.

rafe’s lips twitch, but he stays quiet, waiting, his blue eyes filled with something unreadable. then, playfully, he tilts his head. "good..? bad..? overwhelming..? underwhelming..?" he teases, voice soft, coaxing, and that boyish grin—the one that always gets you—spreads across his face. even like this, damp skin glowing under the moonlight, hair a wild mess, he looks devastatingly beautiful.

you smile, stretching out the anticipation before answering. "really, really, really…" you pause just to see him raise a brow at you. "good. like, seriously, mind-numbingly good."

rafe chuckles, the sound warm and low, and he leans in to press the gentlest kiss to your lips. "yeah," he whispers against your mouth. "you did give me that impression."

you laugh, giving his chest a weak shove, and he just grins, sinking down beside you with a deep, satisfied sigh. his arm curls around your waist, and instinctively, you tuck yourself against him, head resting over his heart, listening to its steady, soothing beat.

a few beats of silence pass before he breaks it, voice amused. "you know there’s a bedroom down there, right?"

your head snaps up, eyes narrowing. "rafe. are you serious?" disbelief laces your voice as you gesture to the makeshift bed and the throw blanket tangled around your legs. "we had sex here when there was a perfectly comfortable bed waiting right below us?"

he’s already laughing, pulling the blanket higher over your shoulders as he tugs you even closer. "but now you can say you’ve had sex under the stars," he offers with a smirk, like it’s the best selling point in the world.

you roll your eyes, but your lips betray you, curling into a smile as you settle against him again. "yeah, that’s really something i’m gonna go brag about," you say dryly, and rafe chuckles, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

your heart swells, impossibly full, and when you lift your head, his lips graze yours, the touch so light it’s barely there. then, in the quiet, in the peace of the night, he whispers, "i love you…"

you kiss his nose, his cheek, then his lips, slow and tender. "i love you too."

a.n — they finally did it. YAY. i hope this was up to everyone's standards. more coming soon. leave a comment cause i rlly love to chit chat with y'all!

chapter index — next. chap

taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa @fveapplestall @chalametlover444 @slutglimreqpers @uarmyhopeworldwide @junxe3 @bakuhoethotski @wintercrows @magicalflowerstranger @kinderwh0r3 @bigjuli444 @singlethreadofivy @stylestarkey @squirreljoe

let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

#novawrites #teachme #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader #teach me #smut #fluff

428 notes · View notes

ofstarsandvibranium · 4 months ago

Text

Stuck in the Moment

Fandom: Marvel (CEO AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It was just supposed to be a regular day at work. But a huge storm hit the city. The power goes out and you're stuck inside the elevator with an incredibly attractive man. So with nothing else to do, you two get to know each other while waiting to be rescued.

A/N: technically, CEO's son AU but whatever

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You quickly close your umbrella and rush inside. Even with the umbrella and a raincoat, you're still partially drenched.

A storm has hit the city. You hear the occasional roar of thunder and flash of lightning, raindrops pelting against the pavement and windows of your work building.

You flash your badge and walk through security. You shoot a smile to Stan, one of the older security guards, "Keeping warm, Stan?"

"As best as I can, Y/N!" he replies, zipping up his jacket further up towards his neck.

You gather with the group of people in front of the elevators. Two doors open, and people start filing in. Both elevators fill up quick, so you decide to hang back and wait for the next one.

You hear someone approach you and they sigh. A soothing, deep voice follows, "Jeez. Did not mentally prepare myself for this much rain."

You turn your head, your eyes meeting striking blue ones. The owner of the voice is as handsome as he sounds. You chuckle and quickly look away, "I know. Even with my umbrella and raincoat, I still wasn't as prepared for this storm."

"I forgot an umbrella hence," he gestures to his drenched suit jacket.

You snort, "Gotta keep a small, compact one with you at all times around this time of year. Never know when a storm will happen."

"Definitely going to follow your advice," he says with a grin.

The elevator door nearest you opens and he gestures, "After you."

"Thanks," you reply, stepping inside and the handsome man filing in behind you. You press the fifth button while he presses the eleventh.

You can't help but comment, "You must be a high profile person if you're going to the top."

The man shyly shrugs, "I suppose," he nods to the fifth button, "You're in the marketing department?"

"Yup. I'm part of the social media team."

"Ah. You guys get to have all the fun."

You giggle, "It's not all fun, but, yeah, we do like-"

The elevator slows, but not because it's approaching your floor. The light's flicker and the elevator creaks to a halt. Your body sways at the stop. The lights flicker again and then you're engrossed in darkness.

You groan out in annoyance, "Oh come on!"

The man with you takes out his phone and turns the flash on. He faces it to the ceiling, illuminating the elevator, "You okay?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Same," he sighs, "Guess the storm created a power outage. Might be some time until the power comes back or until we're rescued."

"Great."

Your phone starts to buzz and you pull it out of your bag. You answer it, "Kate?"

"Hey! Are you at work already 'cause looks like the entire building is experiencing a power outage."

"Yuuup and I was unfortunate enough to be riding the elevator when the power went out."

"Shit. Okay, what floor are you on?"

"I think we're in-between three and four."

"Oh good, you're not alone!"

"Nope. I'm with-" you pause, and look to the man, "Sorry, I never got your name."

"Bucky."

"Hey, Bucky. I'm Y/N. I'd say 'nice to meet you' but I wouldn't call our current situation 'nice'"

He chuckles, "I get it and likewise."

"Who the hell is Bucky? I've never heard of a Bucky before."

"Not now, Kate. Anyway, I should probably save as much of my phone battery as possible. Keep me updated on the power and such."

"Will do! Stay safe and don't die!"

You snort, "I'll try not to." You end the call and look back at Bucky.

"Since you're probably like an executive or something, do you happen to have contact to any other higher ups about this power outage?"

He nods and gestures to his phone, "Getting several text messages from people. I've let them know we're stuck here and they've already contacted the fire department. But considering the storm and everything, might take them a while to get here."

"So guess we have to get comfortable," you set your bag down and slip off your raincoat. You set it on the floor and sit on it. Bucky looks at you with a cocked brow and you shrug, "What? The floor's wet!"

Bucky chuckles to himself and finds a dry spot in the corner. He slides down the wall to sit on the floor, "So, Y/N from Marketing, tell me your life story." You look at him confused and he shrugs, "Might as well get to know each other since we might be stuck here for a while."

______________________________

Within the first hour, learn that Bucky is the eldest sibling and he has a younger sister. His best friends are named Steve and Sam. He's a huge nerd that loves Star Wars and Star Trek. He went to Columbia University to study business, which is why he's now working here.

You told him about your childhood, that you and your best friend, Yelena, moved to the city for school and ended up staying. You express your passion for social media marketing and, ultimately, how you ended up working for Barnes Co., thanks to Yelena's sister, Nat.

"How long have you been working here?" Bucky asks you.

"It's going to be my two year anniversary in a few months."

Bucky slowly nods, "Can't believe you've been here for two years and I've never seen you around."

You give him a shrug, "It's a big building. Lots of people work here. Besides, you work with the higher ups, so I doubt you'd even see me around."

You take this moment to look over him with the minimal lighting you have. He clearly makes a lot of money from what you can tell. His shoes and suit are obviously designer. Hugo Boss or Armani or something. His watch is definitely a Rolex and probably costs more than your entire life.

Bucky shakes his head, "I know, but I do try my best to get to know everyone who works here. The company is what it is because of everyone who works here, not just the CEO, CFOs, and executives."

"That's nice to hear, Bucky. I mean, I knew that this company really values its employees, but to hear someone close to the top say so, is really reassuring."

He shyly chuckles, "Well, uh, yeah, um," he clears his throat, "So, uh, you seeing anyone?" he winces at how unsmooth that came out.

But you chuckle, "Are you asking me out?"

"Me? No, no. Just, ya know, we talked about our childhood, our jobs, only topic we haven't hit is our love lives. Besides, it'll probably a little bit longer until we're rescued. They're working on getting the people on the first two floors out first." Bucky does his best to be as nonchalant as possible and you find it so adorable. You never expected a guy like him to be a little shy.

"Riiiight. Well, I've dated, been in a few relationships, but nobody's really stuck around for long. Kind of getting tired of the whole dating game, so haven't really put much thought into relationships lately. What about you?"

He nervously rubs the back of his neck, "I, uh, hate to say that I dated around a lot when I was younger. Not super proud of myself for that. But as I grew older, started wanting a more stable relationship. Was in one for a long time with a woman. Thought we were going to get married and everything, but then I found out she stuck around because of my growing wealth so-"

"Yikes."

"Yeah. Went back to dating and sleeping around and it got old again quicker than before. I guess I'm kind of like you, focusing on myself and work. Doing my best to just survive in the world."

You slowly nod, "Well, what a pair we make, huh? I mean, look at us," you gesture to yourself and him, "Stuck in an elevator, sharing our life stories, getting to know each other. Honestly, thought a situation like this would be so much worse, but I'm glad it was you that got stuck with me in this situation."

Bucky laughs, "Same here."

"Buck?" you hear a muffled voice from the other side of the elevator doors.

"Dad?!"

"Yeah, you guys okay in there?"

"We're okay!"

"Good! The fire department's here. They're getting you guys out. Just hang tight!"

"Not like we can go anywhere!" Bucky replies and you laugh. He grins at you as you wait for the doors to pry open.

______________________

The entire building was evacuated. Several people stayed back to make sure everyone was safe. Nat and Kate stayed in the lobby waiting for you to be rescued.

When you exited the stairs door, they rushed over to you.

"Holy shit, are you okay?!"

"Yeah. Me and Bucky just hung out that entire time," you gesture to the man who follows behind you.

Nat looks over your shoulder and her eyes widen, "You were stuck in the elevator with James Barnes?"

"James?" you turn to face Bucky as he approaches you, "I thought your name is Bucky."

He nervously clears his throat, "Uh, well, kinda. Technically, my name is James Buchanan Barnes, but those closest to me call me Bucky."

Your realization has your eyes widen and you take a step back, "You're George Barnes' son."

He sheepishly waves, "Hi."

"Well...that's...cool." You didn't know what to say, honestly. You're a little surprised by the reveal. You quickly go through the info that Bucky shared with you in the elevator shaft. He never mentioned his dad or anything that could hint at the position he holds. He deliberately held that info from you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Bucky says with a guilty expression on his face.

You shake your head, "No, it's-it's fine. I mean, I knew you worked a high position but didn't think...that high."

He snorts, "Yeah, um, I just hope you don't see me differently."

"Not at all. I met you as Bucky, the sci-fi nerd who sucks at flirting, so that's how I see you."

"Sucks at flirting? Yeesh, guess that's what happens when I haven't dated in a while."

You laugh, "Happens to the best of us."

"Son, you ready?" George Barnes approaches Bucky.

"Yeah," he nods to his dad and looks back at you, "See you around, Y/N."

"See ya," you give him a small wave and turn back to Kate and Nat. They look at you like you grew another head, "What?"

"The son of George Barnes, James Barnes, son of the CEO of Barnes Co., was flirting with you?!"

You scoff, "I wouldn't really say he was flirting with me. More like attempting to flirt. It doesn't matter. Not like he'd actually want to date someone like me," you shrug it off and pull on your raincoat, "Ready to go?"

_____________________

Everyone was working from home the following day to ensure that the building was safe to occupy when the power came back.

The weather is still poor but not as bad as the day before. Still, you decide to step outside, choosing a cafe to work from rather than your shared apartment with Yelena.

You’re answering emails while sipping on a warm beverage when you get a new message on Slack from James Barnes:

JB: You’re looking cozy over there in your corner.

You immediately look around and spot him on the opposite side of the cafe. When your eyes meet his, he gives a wave. He quickly gathers his things and you keep your eyes on him as he moves across the cafe to your table.

“May I join you?”

“If you’d like.”

He sits across from you and you lower your laptop screen, “Not gonna lie, kinda creepy that you did that, Barnes.”

He shyly shrugs, “I guess I really do need to brush up on my flirting hm?”

You giggle, “Yeah, I suppose you do.”

“Maybe I can practice with you?”

You give him a coy look, “I guess you can.”

#Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky imagine #Bucky Barnes imagine #CEO AU #marvel imagine #marvel AU

585 notes · View notes

artficlly · 26 days ago

Text

smog & spirits: eye for an eye (series)

Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader

Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, smut, p n v, unprotected sex, table sex, light fingering, hair pulling, begging, past wounds, physical violence, angst, wound description, threats, some fluff, protective bucky, bucky barnes had issues, criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: hi!! i spent all of jan doing my 50k word challenge on the daughter of rotsál first draft, but i thought i'd take these first few days of feb to update this fic! i also released a smutty/fluffy oneshot called sweatpea you should check out! my birthday and uni is coming up soon so i'm gonna try squeeze in some more work on the daughter of rotsál draft before that and maybe one more update / another one-shot but i'll see how i go! anyway, enjoy this is a spicy one! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

taglist: @nash-dara @sebastians-love permanent taglist: @globetrotter28

main masterlist | series masterlist

The shipment warehouse was a vast, hollowed-out space. Shadows stretched long beneath the dim, hanging bulbs. The scent of aged wood, alcohol, and rust lingered in the air, the faint remnants of the whiskey that passed through here on its way to buyers. Though mostly empty, clusters of wooden crates were stacked against the far walls, some sealed, others pried open to reveal their glass cargo, bottles of dark amber liquid reflecting the weak light. Scattered metal production tables dotted the floor, their surfaces scratched and stained from years of work. These were the stations where workers packed the shipments, but now, the tables sat abandoned, save for one.

At the centre of the warehouse, in front of one of the tables, three men sat bound to chairs. Rope bit into their flesh, tight enough that their fingers were already turning an ugly shade of blue. The table before them had been repurposed for something far crueller than packaging liquor. A collection of weapons lay across its surface—blades, hammers, pliers, each one arranged with careful deliberation.

By the main entrance, Steve and Sam stood guard, their figures solid and unmoving, you eyed them cautiously as you passed through the threshold. They didn’t quite meet your eye, and you wondered if they could hear the deafening pulse that roared in your ears. The cold night air filtered in through the open doors behind them, a scattering of ash decorating the stone floor.

Bucky entered beside you, his steps slow and deliberate. But you could feel the unspoken tension rolling off him in waves. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his shoulders squared rigidly, his jaw tight. The walk over from the Sootline had been silent, even if you could practically feel the heat of rage radiating off him. He didn’t seem eager to talk to you, even if his gaze would occasionally flicker to you to make sure you still followed along behind him. Maybe he feared he would find judgment in your eyes because he never held them for long.

“Bucky—” You called out softly, but the gangster shied away from your touch, the fabric of his sleeve slipping through your fingers.

He strode forward, each step heavy, his boots striking against the stone with a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound echoed through the warehouse, filling it like a countdown ticking. You knew him. You had to remind yourself of that. You knew this man—the sharp edges of his cruelty, the weight of his fury, the way violence coiled beneath his skin like a second nature. You knew him intimately; you had felt the warmth of his breath, the roughness of his hands, and the steel of his will.

And yet, in this moment, he felt distant. Unreachable.

Even if he was angry, even if he had been cold and dismissive, his rage was not aimed at you. This was because of you. Because of what happened. The thought should have been comforting, a reassurance that you were not in his path and that his wrath had a different target. And yet, the knowledge did little to ease the weight pressing against your bruised ribs; it didn’t stop the breath from hitching in your throat as you took in the scene before you.

You were safe. You knew that.

But safety did nothing to silence the unease creeping through your veins.

The Iron Rats reacted the moment Bucky neared them. Two of them shrank back, their chairs creaking as they futilely tried to recoil from him. Their eyes darted between Bucky and the weapons on the table, their breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. One of them had already begun to tremble, his lips forming silent prayers, his body betraying him as he shook against the restraints.

But the third man—the one at the end—was different. He didn’t cower, didn’t flinch. He simply stared ahead, eyes hollow, his expression unreadable. It was as if he had already accepted whatever was coming and made peace with the inevitable.

“Barnes.” You snapped louder this time, voice clipped. The gangster paused his movements, not even turning to look back as he raised his hand, silencing you with a raise of his index finger.

“I was considerin’ if the bird needed to see this.” He finally broke his silence, voice low with a dangerous edge. “But I think she needs’a understand, don’t ya think?”

His hand struck forward, grasping one of the cowering men’s chins, forcing his head to look in your direction. You could tell his grip was bruising, even from a distance, the skin around his thumb growing white at the pressure. “She needs’a understand what happens to dirty fuckin’ rats that come crawling into my territory.”

Bucky released the man with a sharp shove, and the Iron Rat nearly sobbed in relief, his chair rocking back violently from the force. His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Bucky barely spared him a glance. Instead, he dragged his fingers down the front of his suit jacket in one broad stroke as if ridding himself of the filth he had just touched.

Then, without looking, he reached for the table, his fingers curling around the worn handle of a butcher’s knife. The blade was thick and heavy, meant to cleave through bone as quickly as meat. As he lifted it, it scraped against the metal tabletop, the sound sharp and grating—final.

Bucky turned to you, his fingers curling around the handle, weighing it in his grip like an executioner deliberating his next stroke. His gaze pinned you in place.

“Left or right, doll?”

The question landed like a punch to the gut.

“What?” You stammered back in response.

“Left or right?” His voice was eerily steady, too casual for the brutality hanging in the air. It was as if he were asking you to pick a wine for dinner, not deciding which limb would be lost. Your throat tightened. The Iron Rats were barely breathing, one whimpering, his chair creaking under his tremors.

You forced your voice to work. “Barnes, don’t you think we’ve caused enough damage?”

You knew you'd made a mistake the second the words left your lips.

Bucky’s head snapped towards you, his jaw ticking, something dark and dangerous flickering behind his eyes. The shift in him was immediate, electric. He abandoned the bound man without hesitation, closing the space between you in a few sharp strides. Your pulse stuttered.

He was on you in seconds, looming, his presence suffocating. You turned your head instinctively as his breath fanned hot across your cheek, but there was no escaping him.

“No.”

The single word was like a hammer shattering stone.

“We ‘aven’t caused nearly enough damage after what they did.” His voice, low and venomous, left no room for argument. His free hand clenched at his side, fingers twitching with barely contained rage. “You think I’m gonna let these filthy fuckin’ rats walk away after puttin’ their hands on you? Huh? After hurtin’ you right under my fuckin’ nose?”

Your breath caught, your ribs tightening under the weight of his fury. He leant in, close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear. His words were a vow, a sentence carved in stone when he spoke next. “You’re under my protection. Mine. You’re mine. So fuckin’ choose, doll. Left or right?”

Your stomach twisted. The Iron Rats were silent, frozen, waiting for your answer as if it were their final prayer. You swallowed.

“…Right.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth curled, but there was no warmth in it. It was a razor-sharp thing, all teeth and no kindness. His eyes gleamed with something feverish, something manic.

“Good girl,” he purred. The praise was smooth, almost sweet, but his grip on the knife tightened, knuckles whitening around the handle. And then he turned. The Iron Rat barely had time to process what was happening before Bucky moved.

The butcher’s knife came down in a single, brutal arc.

A sickening crack filled the warehouse as steel met flesh and bone, followed by a scream so raw, so agonised, it turned your stomach. The man convulsed against his restraints, his bound arms jerking wildly, but there was nowhere to go.

Blood splattered across the metal tabletop, dark and glistening. It pooled. Dripped and painted the concrete floor beneath him. His severed hand tumbled to the ground with a dull thud, fingers twitching uselessly in the growing puddle of red.

Bucky barely spared the carnage a glance. “You touched her,” he said coldly, voice devoid of sympathy.

“So I took your fuckin’ hand.” He tilted his head, considering the sobbing, writhing man before him. “Consider it generous that I ain’t takin’ both.”

The Iron Rat howled, his body convulsing. Tears streamed down his face, his cries dissolving into choked, incoherent pleas for mercy. Bucky wasn’t listening. He wiped the blade clean against his sleeve, smearing crimson across the dark fabric like a war trophy. Then, slowly, he turned to the second man, pointing the stained blade at him.

“Your turn.”

The second Iron Rat thrashed in his chair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. His eyes, wild with terror, darted between Bucky and the ruined stump of the first man. Blood still poured from the wound, pooling beneath the chair, seeping into the cracks of the warehouse floor. The stench of it—sharp, metallic, raw—hung thick in the air.

“Please,” he sobbed. “Please, I—I didn’t even—”

Bucky slammed a heavy hand down on his shoulder, silencing him with a violent jolt. The Iron Rat flinched, chest heaving, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. Bucky turned to you again, the knife glinting under the dim warehouse lights.

“Left or right?”

Your fingers curled into your palms, nails digging deep enough to leave crescent moons in your skin, but the sting barely registered. Your mind screamed at you, an urgent, panicked voice clawing at the edges of your thoughts. Stop this. Say something. Tell him it’s enough.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew the truth now, Bucky wouldn’t listen. Any sense of cold calculation had snapped within him, as if his father himself had possessed his body. His blood was up, his fury ran red-hot and unchecked. Reason was a foreign concept to him in this moments, swallowed whole by vengeance and violence.

Your breath felt thin as you watched him, as you remembered what was left of Varlan Crey. The Rat King, so smug, so untouchable, had been brought to his knees. Felled not by magic or blades, but by the sheer, unrelenting wrath of Bucky Barnes. He had survived, maybe by the hand of a small mercy. Or maybe just dumb luck. Because you had seen it—the flicker of real, unguarded fear in Crey’s eyes. The raw understanding that, for the first time, he had stood at the very edge of death and only barely stepped back in time.

You swallowed, throat dry as dust. “Left.”

A shuddering breath left the Iron Rat, some final, pitiful sound before—

Bucky moved.

The blade came down hard.

The crack of severed bone and the wet, visceral tear of flesh split through the warehouse. The man’s scream ripped through the air, raw and broken, his body jerking violently against the chair. Blood sprayed across the table, warm and thick, dripping onto the floor. His severed hand landed with a sickening slap, fingers twitching before they went still.

Bucky tightened his grip on the man’s shoulders, keeping him from toppling the chair over as he convulsed in agony. He wiped the blade again, slow and deliberate, his gaze flicking to the last Iron Rat—the one who hadn’t made a sound.

The man met Bucky’s eyes with an eerie, empty calm.

No trembling. No pleading. Just quiet resignation.

A slight, bitter smile played at the edges of his lips as he tilted his head, gesturing to his left hand, which was secured against the arm of the chair. A soldier offering himself to the executioner.

Bucky exhaled sharply, amused. “Good choice.”

And then he brought the knife down.

The man grunted as the blade severed flesh and bone in one clean stroke, but he didn’t scream. His body twitched, stiffening against the pain, but he bit it down. His severed hand dropped onto the table this time, fingers curling inward, as if gripping something unseen. Blood seeped from the wound, a slow, steady stream.

Bucky studied him for a moment, almost impressed.

Then, satisfied, he tossed the knife onto the table with a dull clang. The first two Iron Rats were still crying, writhing, staring at their stumps like they could somehow undo what had been done. The third just slumped in his chair, pale and shaking, but silent.

“I think I should take an eye next, for even lookin’ at you. What’d you think, doll?” Exhaustion lay heavy in your bones as your eyes fluttered shut briefly. Bucky was upon you again, his gaze softer now, the fury still burning beneath the surface but tempered. He reached for you, his bloodied fingers grazing your arm in a touch that was meant to be comforting. “Eye for an eye, after all.”

“I don’t…” You stammered but leant into his touch by default. Steve and Sam had adverted their eyes, their expressions unreadable as they pressed their lips into a line.

“I’ll choose for ya, how’s that sound, doll?” He rubbed a bloodied thumb across your cheek. You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping something in your eyes could pull him away. But his eyes settled on the faded split in your lip, and his gaze hardened. “They have to pay.”

Bucky stalked off towards the array of weapons displayed along the table once more. The knife he chose gleamed under the dim light, and Bucky tested the edge against his thumb. A single bead of red welled up but he paid it no mind. His attention was elsewhere—on the trembling man before him, the one still staring at his bleeding stump, breath hitching in raw, animalistic terror.

“Please,” the Iron Rat sobbed, voice wet, desperate. “Please, Barnes, I can’t—I—”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders like the weight of their begging was nothing more than an inconvenience. His hand was steady, practiced, as he tapped the knife tip against the man’s chin, tilting his face up.

“Didn’t fuckin’ ask for pleas,” he murmured, voice eerily even. “Left or right?”

The man shuddered violently. He turned slightly, eyes flicking to you as though you could save him as if you had any say. You swallowed, your tongue thick and useless, pinned in place by the weight of Bucky’s presence and the inevitability of what came next.

When no answer came, Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Left it is.” The knife sank into the man’s left eye in a swift, brutal motion. A high and raw shriek tore through the room, sending a shudder through your bones.

You flinched, but only slightly. The movement barely registered.

You had seen Bucky covered in blood before, had seen him like this before—violent, efficient, merciless. Yet you had also seen him in moments far removed from this carnage.

You had watched him bleed and had pressed your hands to his wounds to keep him from slipping away. You had felt his warmth seeping between your fingers, his breath shallow but steady as he let you take care of him. He had trusted you then, let you see him vulnerable when he could have just as easily pushed you away.

He had defended you against the Rat King, standing between you and the man who had wanted to carve you apart. If it hadn’t been for him, would you have been at the mercy of the Iron Rats? Tied to a chair like the three men before you? There had been no hesitation in him then, just like there was none now. And it was all for you.

The thought made your stomach tighten, but not in fear. Not entirely.

Bucky wiped the knife clean on the Iron Rat’s pant leg, a simple, thoughtless movement, and turned to the last man. The final Iron Rat had been silent the entire time, watching the carnage with eerie detachment. Even now, as the scent of blood thickened the air and his fallen comrades moaned and sobbed, his expression barely shifted. He only blinked, slow and deliberate, as Bucky approached.

“Ya know what I’m gonna ask,” Bucky said, voice quieter this time.

A pause.

Then, a small sigh.

“Right,” the man murmured, resigned.

Something flickered in Bucky’s expression—curiosity, maybe. Approval. He didn’t make him wait. The blade sank deep, and though the Iron Rat tensed, his breath hitching sharply, he made no sound. Blood welled, thick and dark, spilling down his cheek, but he simply slumped against the restraints, his ruined eye weeping crimson.

Bucky lingered, staring at him, head tilted slightly. Considering. Perhaps even disappointed.

Bucky only clicked his tongue before turning back to you. The shift was subtle but immediate. The hardness in his expression softened, his eyes no longer carrying the cold fury he had wielded so effortlessly moments before. His hand, still warm despite the blood smeared across his fingers, reached for you, grazing your waist.

“See, doll?” he murmured. “Now they know.”

Your breath caught.

You should have felt horror. Revulsion. But instead, as you looked at him—his jaw speckled with blood, his chest rising and falling evenly, the fire still smouldering behind his eyes—you felt something else entirely. Something that made your fingers twitch, something that made your chest tighten.

Maybe, just maybe, this was more than just lust.

You weren’t sure whether that should’ve terrified you.

But at that moment, staring up at him, your heart still pounding, you weren’t sure you cared.

—

Bucky quickly issued his orders: everyone was to leave but you. Sam and Steve moved without hesitation, grabbing a bloodied, barely conscious Iron Rat by the scruff of their necks and dragging them towards the exit. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the cold warehouse air, thick and rich, settling into your lungs with each breath.

Bucky didn’t watch them leave.

He stood with his back turned, broad shoulders taut, tension coiling through his body like a predator still primed for the kill. His suit jacket lay discarded on the blood-splattered table. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled to his elbows, the fabric marred with streaks of red. His hands—still wet with it—hung at his sides, fingers twitching slightly as if the violence hadn’t yet left his system.

You hesitated before moving, carefully stepping past the grotesque remnants of severed hands littering the floor. You focused on him instead, on the way his body seemed stretched too tight like he was waiting for another enemy to appear from the shadows.

Slowly, cautiously, you reached out, smoothing a hand over his forearm. The muscles beneath your fingers were rigid but warm, his pulse steady despite the chaos he’d unleashed.

“You showed them your hand,” you murmured, your voice soft and testing. “What will you do now?”

Your fingers traced a slow path up his arm, featherlight over the muscle, following the curve of his shoulder. When he didn’t pull away, you grew bolder, stepping around him until you stood before him. His face was speckled with blood; the scarlet splattered across his jaw and streaked along the bridge of his nose. His blue eyes, cold and unreadable just moments ago, stirred—just barely—as they settled on you.

“They needed to be taught a lesson,” he said simply, his voice still edged with the lingering embers of rage. A repetition of the words he’d spoken before.

You sighed through your nose, your hands splaying across his chest. His shirt was warm beneath your touch, the steady rise and fall of his breath grounding you. You pressed yourself flush against him, seeking—what? Comfort? Reassurance? An answer you weren’t sure you wanted?

“Yes,” you conceded, your voice quieter now, steadier. “But you’ve shown ‘em your hand.”

Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric, gripping him, holding him there with you. “You’ve told ‘em another woman is close to you—other than your sister. One that commands enough of your attention for you to do this.”

His eyes flickered with amusement. “Ya scared, doll?”

“No.” The answer was immediate, instinctive—but the certainty of it wavered, even in your own mind. Was that really the truth? “I just want to understand why you’d expose a weakness like that.”

He snorted softly, his bloodstained hands coiling around your waist, holding you there. His grip was firm and possessive but not forceful. There was no threat in his touch, only something else, something deeper, something that made your stomach twist.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to hope. Maybe he would finally say something—something real. Something sweet. He always left you with vague declarations of ownership and lust.

Because he cared, he had to—right? No man would do what he had done tonight if he didn’t care. No man would make a spectacle of his violence, an open display of his wrath for the sake of a woman if she meant nothing? He had carved his rage into flesh and blood for you and left a message in the ruined bodies of those men. You mattered to him.

Didn’t you?

But when he finally spoke, his words weren’t what you wanted.

“You have your worth, spirit-raiser.”

A flicker of disappointment bloomed in your gut. You could have pulled away. Should have, maybe. But you didn’t because you needed something from him: reassurance, protection. Proof that he would stand between you and whatever enemies would inevitably come for you now that he had placed you in the centre of this war.

Perhaps tonight had been proof enough.

Conflict and confusion pressed heavily in your chest, warring with the heat between you.

Fuck Becca’s warnings.

There was something here, wasn’t there?

Your hand slid up, fingers ghosting over the rough stubble of his jaw. You cradled his face, pulling him closer. His breath was warm, tinged with the faint scent of whiskey and blood, and for a moment, you hesitated—just a moment—before pressing your lips to his.

Bucky responded instantly, like a man starved, his eager hands gripping your waist with a bruising intensity as if grounding himself in your presence. A sharp wince pricked at your ribs, but the hunger in his kiss quickly drowned it out. His lips moved against yours with fervour, rough and consuming, parting only to let his tongue sweep into your mouth, claiming and demanding. You melted into him, your body yielding beneath his, heat pooling low in your stomach as his touch ignited something primal in you.

He moved with purpose, guiding you backwards. His hands were restless, roaming up your spine, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your blouse, searching, craving skin. The cool air kissed your exposed flesh as he fumbled with your buttons, the urgency in his touch making his movements clumsy. You gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss as your own hands wandered lower, gliding down the firm planes of his chest. The taut muscle beneath his white collared shirt flexed beneath your palms, solid and unyielding.

His breath hitched slightly as you dragged your nails over the crisp fabric, feeling the faint thrum of his heartbeat beneath. You felt the shudder in his body as your fingers found the buttons of his vest, slipping them free with deliberate ease. Bucky’s hands found your breasts, moulding the soft flesh through your brassiere with a rough, needy grip, his thumbs sweeping over the peaks in slow, teasing circles. Your head tipped back, a breathy sigh escaping your lips as heat coursed through you.

The vest was discarded in a swift motion, tossed aside without care, and before you could fully react, Bucky’s strong hands lifted you effortlessly, hoisting you onto the cold metal of the production table. The chill of it sent a shiver through your body. Still, the heat between you and him was overwhelming, obliterating any thought. His body pressed between your legs, the hard line of him nestling against you through the fabric of your skirts.

His mouth devoured yours again, possessive and unrelenting, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a sharp, fleeting bite before his tongue soothed the sting. You whimpered quietly into his mouth. Clinging to him, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to earn a low groan from deep within his chest. His thumb grazed over your nipple, teasing through the lace, and your breath hitched.

The world beyond this moment ceased to exist. There was only Bucky—his touch, his breath, his desire pressed into your skin like a brand. And you welcomed it. Welcomed him.

You could already feel the hard length of him, pressing insistently against your inner thigh through the layers of fabric. His heat was unmistakable, searing even through the barrier of clothing, and a shiver rolled through you. The anticipation was unbearable. You reached for his belt, fingers nimble and eager—

But Bucky chuckled, low and deep, knocking your hands away with an easy flick of his wrist. His pupils were blown wide, dark pools of hunger that drank you in as you leant back on your elbows, your body sprawled out before him. His lips were swollen, slick with the mingled taste of you both, his breath warm against your skin. Your chest heaved, one breast exposed where he had tugged it free from your brassiere, the cool air sending a shiver through you.

“Greedy, ain’t ya?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, but his touch was anything but teasing. His hand slid beneath the heavy fabric of your skirt, fingers dragging up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You barely had time to process the sensation before he grabbed the delicate waistband of your tap pants and tore them down your legs, the lace rasping against your skin as he wrenched them past your ankles and boots.

The discarded scrap of fabric landed somewhere on the warehouse floor, forgotten. His hands were already on you again, possessive, insatiable. You let out a low groan, head falling back as he trailed a digit through your wet slit, humming in delight as he found you already dripping with desire. “Don’t need an arousal potion for this, do we?”

You ignored his quip, instead wrapping your legs around his waist. He chuckled at you, rewarding your eagerness by pressing one of his digits into your cunt. You clenched around him with a whimper, hips rocking as you internally begged for more friction.

“Let me hear your noises, doll.” Bucky commanded, his spare hand trailing up your thigh. You whined softly, bucking your hips once more in a silent plea. The gangster smirked down at you, pressing a second digit into you as you squirmed beneath him.

“Please, Bucky.” You mewled, pulling him closer with the legs hooked around his back. He obliged, slowly pumping his fingers in and out. You could hear the squelching of your wetness, your body shuddering with impatience at the leisurely pace.

“You want more?” He purred, teasing you with a quick flick of your clit with his thumb. You clenched around him involuntarily, a breathy gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure rocked up your spine, a new wave of electricity flooding your gut.

You pushed yourself up, hands grasping his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt as you pulled your bodies flush. The heat of him seeped into you, intoxicating, overwhelming. Your mouth found the column of his throat, breath hitching as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his exposed skin. His pulse thrummed beneath your lips, quick and heavy, and you traced it with your tongue, savouring the salt of his skin.

Bucky let out a sharp exhale as you dragged your mouth along his adam’s apple, teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh before sucking a bruise into his neck. His grip on your thigh tightened, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, but you didn’t care. You wanted them. You wanted him to brand himself into your skin the way he had branded himself into your mind.

“Please,” you breathed against his ear, voice hushed, desperate. Your tongue flicked along the shell, teasing, before you nipped at his earlobe, letting your teeth catch just enough to make him groan. “I need you inside me.”

The words sent a shudder through him, a growl vibrating deep in his chest. “Turn around, bend over the table. Now.”

Your head tilted, temple resting against the firm plane of his shoulder as you gazed up at him, your breath uneven. His fingers twitched inside you, a steady rhythm still building, each pump igniting a slow, unbearable heat in your core. A sharp gasp left your lips as pleasure twisted through you, your body tensing in response.

“My ribs—” you managed to gasp, wincing as the dull ache reminded you of your bruises.

Bucky stilled for a moment, a flicker of something soft crossing his face, a rare moment of tenderness blooming between the two of you. His breath was warm against your cheek as he considered your words, his free hand smoothing over your hip as though grounding you.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured, low and reassuring, though the husk of his voice betrayed his restraint. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

Gentle. A rare promise from a man like him.

Then, just as quickly as he had stilled, he withdrew. A wet heat lingered in the absence of his fingers, and you shuddered, your walls clenching around nothing. A soft whimper escaped before you could stop it, your body betraying the ache of emptiness. You unhooked your legs from around his waist, knees wobbling as you moved, turning yourself around atop the table.

The cold metal kissed your stomach as you laid your front flat against it, one breast still bare from where he had pulled the fabric away. A shuddering breath left you, anticipation thick in your veins as you braced yourself against the surface, your hips lining up with the edge.

Behind you, you heard the sharp metallic clink of his belt buckle, followed by the slow rasp of leather sliding free. The head of his cock pressed against your slick opening, teasing but not quite entering. You whined into the table as his large hands stroked up the back of your thighs, gripping the flesh.

“So wet,” he muttered. His voice was thick with hunger as he pushed your skirts up, bunching the fabric around your waist, leaving you utterly exposed to him. His hands trailed down, calloused palms smoothing over the curve of your ass before he spread you open, admiring the slick evidence of your need. “So good for me, huh, doll?”

A desperate whimper left you, your body shivering under his touch. You pressed your folded forearms beneath your chest, arching your back in an attempt to save your bruised ribs from the unforgiving metal table.

Then, at last, he pressed into you.

A gasp tore from your throat, your body instinctively tensing as he stretched you open. The intrusion was thick and slow, overwhelming at first, your cunt clenching down against the pressure of him. Your teeth sank into the flesh of your thumb, muffling the choked moan that threatened to spill free. Bucky cursed under his breath, withdrawing just enough before easing back in, working you open with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Ya like this, don’t ya?” His voice was low and strained, his grip tightening on your hips as he pinned you in place. The firm drag of him inside you sent sparks of heat flooding through your veins. “Like me claimin’ you? Like knowin’ I’d fuckin’ tear through them bastards just to keep ya safe?”

A broken moan left you, your body trembling against the metal. Your fingers curled into fists, nails biting into your palms as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust pressing you further against the table. The slick, filthy sounds of your bodies moving together filled the empty warehouse, the echo of skin meeting skin mixing with your ragged breaths.

Bucky groaned, his hands wrapping around your hips as he rocked into you harder, deeper, pulling you back onto him with every thrust. Your mind swam, the bruising grip of his fingers the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Tell me, doll.” His voice was rough, a demand wrapped in silk and sin. His hips snapped forward, driving into you so deep it left you gasping. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“Please—” The word came out in a small, needy sob, your voice trembling as pleasure coiled tight in your belly.

Bucky growled, a deep, guttural sound. One of his hands abandoned your waist, sliding up the length of your back before tangling in your hair. His fingers twisted into the strands, yanking your head back with a sharp tug. A strangled moan burst from your lips, your back arching instinctively. Your nails scraped against the metal table, searching for purchase as he fucked into you harder, faster.

The steady, brutal rhythm of his hips grew relentless. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure up your spine. A filthy symphony of desperate moans, ragged breathing, and the wet, obscene sounds of him driving into you echoed. Bucky groaned, the sound low and primal as he chased his release. His grip on your hip was vice-like, anchoring you in place as he pounded into you without mercy. You could only hope Sam and Steve weren’t lingering nearby to hear the sinful chorus of your pleasure.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as your body tensed, pleasure spiking hot and fast through your veins. Your legs trembled beneath you, knees nearly buckling as your orgasm coiled, threatening to snap.

Then he tugged your hair again, the sting mingling with the pleasure in a dizzying rush, and you came undone.

Your cunt clenched around his cock, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your body spasmed beneath him. Stars burst behind your eyelids, pleasure flooding through you in rolling waves. Wetness dripped down your inner thighs, evidence of your release slicking his length as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

Bucky let out a deep, shuddering moan, his hips stuttering as he followed you into bliss. His grip on you tightened, his cock pulsing as he spilt inside you, filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum. He kept thrusting, his movements growing erratic, chasing the last remnants of pleasure as he wrung out every drop of ecstasy.

His fingers slowly uncurled from your hair, his grip loosening as the tension drained from his body. You collapsed against the table, breathless and spent. You lay motionless beneath him, allowing him to use you as he rode out the final waves of his release, his heavy breaths mingling with yours.

Gods, you were going to need to take an anti-pregnancy potion after this.

PART EIGHT

284 notes · View notes

deerspherestudios · 9 months ago

Text

Day 3 Progression Post! 🍄

Hello fireflies! The long awaited progression post is finally here; the amount of sprites may be overwhelming but keep in mind it includes duplicates of the same pose with minor expression changes haha. So realistically once I have a base pose I can knock out 5-6 in one go!

Day 3 has been beta-tested by my lovely fiance, and while they say the writing is good I still wanna include some separate interactions so the MC feels more natural to players (this goes for people who wanna flirt with Mychael vs. wants to be casual with him but still friendly!)

Just like I did for Day 2, I’ll be linking this post in the pinned one on the blog <3 Sorry this took ages to take off, the past few months have been a major up and down for me creatively, but I'm glad I managed to get this list together! Anyhoo, here’s the asset list for Day 3:

Progress 1: 100% 🎉

SFX : 16 / 18 ✅

BGM: 10 / 10 ✅

Progress 2: 100% 🎉

Item Art: 5 / 5 ✅

Item Art (Redraw): 1 / 1 ✅

BGs: 8 / 8 ✅

Progress 3: 100% 🎉

CGs: 8 / 8 ✅

Progress 4: 100% 🎉

Sprites: 79 / 79 ✅

Progress 5: 100% 🎉

Beta Test: ✅

BGM Credit List: ✅

Content Warning List: ✅

A lot of these are subject to change; it's a little intimidating since (as the dev) I feel like there's so much yet so little content for Day 3? It could be the slow burn. You'll be the judge of it once it's out haha. As always, thank you for the support and patience! <3

Here's the Patreon if you'd like to support me to receive early updates and behind-the-scenes content!

#mushroom oasis vn #cheea chatter #bts #i just realized the assets are DOUBLE from Day 2 #I HOPE THIS ISNT THE CASE FOR DAY 4 #BUT UH #WE'LL SEE #also shoutout to my patrons who got to see the list early!#im excited to share updates as progression continues

806 notes · View notes

gigiszn · 1 month ago

Note

gwi-nam smut....😈

JUST A DREAM — gwinam x fem!reader

۫ ꣑ৎ ｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄! LADIES one at a time.. im only one sexy woman.. but since y'all asked so politely (and 10 times in my inbox) here is your GWINAM SMUT.. also i'm so sorry if i haven't gotten back to you but rn based on requests i'm also writing a gwi-nam fluff and a thg story! plus updating cheong-san fic tmrw prob idk whenever i feel like it okay?!?!?!

y'all know the smut gonna be good when you never even HEARD of the warnings (i didn't know the names of the kinks until i googled them)

tw: somnophilia, dom!gwinam, sub!reader, humiliation, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, begging, p in v, oral (f receiving), begging, hybristophilia, hair pulling, slapping, creampie, no use of y/n (though no name or features are described).

as always, you're responsible for the media you consume. read if u want, don't if you don't.

wc: 2.3k

۫ ꣑ৎ ｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

The hours had dragged on, each second thick with tension. One moment, you and On-Jo had been sitting close, sharing a quiet laugh as she nervously gushed about Bare-Su. Her voice had been light, teasing, but there was something raw in the way she spoke—something unspoken between you, an energy you couldn't quite place. Then, without warning, the world had shattered around you. The laughter faded into the harsh reality of your classmates turned monsters—feral, mindless creatures, chasing you down with a hunger you could feel deep in your bones.

The panic had set in quickly. The hallways had become a maze, the sound of shuffling footsteps and eerie growls echoing around you. You’d lost On-Jo, lost track of everything. Alone, terrified, you had found a classroom to hide in, slamming the door behind you, and for a brief moment, it had seemed like you were safe. But that security was short-lived.

The zombies had found the door, clawing at the wood, their nails scraping as they drew nearer. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever. The fear gripped you, cold and suffocating. You refused to let it end like this—not after you’d had to kill one of your own. You had to survive.

Taking a deep breath, you checked the door one last time. The sounds of the undead grew louder, and you knew it was only a matter of time before they broke through. Without thinking, you darted out of the classroom, running as fast as you could, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Each step was desperate, each breath labored. Your heart pounded, not from exhaustion, but from the raw terror that fueled you forward.

You spotted the music room just ahead, a glimpse of hope in the chaos. You pushed open the door, slamming it behind you, your back pressed against it for a moment, trying to catch your breath. The quiet that enveloped you felt surreal after the chaos outside. The room was still, untouched, as if time had stopped. The air smelled of dust and old wood, but there was a certain calm to it, a strange peace you didn’t think you’d ever feel again.

You quickly scanned the room. It was empty, save for a broken piano and scattered instruments. In the corner, there was a closet—small, tucked away from view. You moved toward it with quick steps, but then froze. A body lay crushed under the piano, clawing at the air above you in a desperate attempt to eat your brain, a grotesque reminder of the horrors outside.

Shaking your head, you pushed the thought aside. You needed to focus. The last thing you wanted was to think about the things you’d just barely escaped. You moved to the farthest corner of the room, a chair in the corner catching your eye. With a tired sigh, you sank into it, your body aching, your mind still racing.

The room was silent again, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to relax. Your muscles, tense from the fight and the fear, finally started to release. Your breathing slowed, but it was difficult to let go completely. You hadn’t let yourself rest in what felt like forever. The memories of the chaos—of your friends, of the ones you had lost—were fresh and raw in your mind.

You closed your eyes for just a moment, exhaustion overtaking you. The outside world felt far away, the sounds of the zombies muffled. Here, in this room, you were safe—for now.

And that was all that mattered.

۫ ꣑ৎ ｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

A growing sense of pleasure blooming in your cunt snapped you out of your slumber, each sense reawakening. Your eyes shot downwards, the sight of an all too familiar boy filling your vision as he looked up from his seeming frenzy against your now throbbing clit.

Every part of you screamed to run, to get the hell back in that supply closet. It wasn't normal to be awoken by a tongue fucking into your hole, yet something about the far-from-vanilla scene had you gripping the sides of the chair.

"G-Gwinam.. What the fuck are you do..doing?" You stammered out, chest heaving. Your question was left hung in the air, filling the silence surrounding you. The only sounds able to be heard were the sound of his tongue lapping against your clit. The sight was erotic, your hands scrambling to catch a grip on anything, finally settling for his hair. You tugged instinctively, Gwinam's mouth opening in a groan that reverberated against your pussy.

Your legs twitched, nose and brows scrunching as you felt your climax arriving. The coil in your stomach was tightening, like the feeling at the brink of a rollercoaster. "I-I'm gonna.." You muttered out, lips curling into a pleasure-filled frown.

"You better fucking hold it, you slut," He warned, stopping his abuse against your clit. You grimaced, staring down at him as your hips jutted upwards.

His tongue swirled and delved deeper into your hole, two fingers joining his mouth. Your legs shook, hands pulling tighter on his hair.

Gwinam could feel his hard-on rub against his pants, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried not to focus on the overwhelming pressure he felt as you tugged on the strands of his black hair.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore.

"I-I can't.." You whined out as the coil inside you unleashed and broke. The rollercoaster had fallen, and your cum was now spilling out onto your thighs and his face.

He licked and slurped at your clit as you rode out your high, a post-nut clarity washing over you as your eyes widened. You were far too loud, and the zombies would surely come. Without thinking, you pushed him down, stumbling as your legs shook while you tried to make your way to the supply closet.

Suddenly, Gwinam's strong forced pushed you against the wall, forearm against your neck. You attempted to claw at him, but he simply used his free hand to pin them upward. "Where y'gonna run now, huh?" He teased, biting down on your neck, "You don't wanna listen? I'll show you how to fucking listen, whore."

A loud slap emitted, a pink stain echoing against your cheek.

Tears brimmed your eyes, slowly falling down your face as a choked sob escaped your throat. You struggled against him, watching the sadistic smirk plaster on his face, eyes widened as the pupils traced the line of your salty cries.

"Please, Gwinam. W-We'll die." You stammered out, eyes widened as you tried to search for any trace of humanity in his eyes.

You didn't find it.

"You're so fucking hot when you cry." He groaned, pushing his mouth against yours roughly. It seemed he didn't have a care whether you kissed back, shoving his tongue down your mouth.

You wanted to resist, really, you did.

But the way he rutted his hips against you knew that you didn't want anything more than for him to fuck your brains out.

A moan fell from your mouth and into his, Gwinam's grip on your neck finally releasing as he used that hand to pull up one of your thighs. In a synchronized daze of horniness, you both grinded against each other in a desperate attempt to chase your high once more.

He grabbed your arms, dragging you to the window. Your face was pressed against it, breasts smushing against the glass as his hands carelessly fondled your ass.

Gwinam stuck in two fingers, stretching your tight pussy for what was to come. "If you cum before I let you, I'll kill you."

You knew he was serious. You just didn't have it in you to care.

One hand snakes up your back, wrapping around your neck as if he was the serpent and you were the forbidden fruit.

Squeezing, you let out a broken sob, purple bruises forming in the shape of his fingertips. He pressed his hips against yours at your cries, eyes rolling to the back of his head. There was nothing more erotic to him than fucking you while there were zombies mere metres away from you.

Agonizingly slow, he pulled your skirt down. With a huff, you impatiently forced the fabric down, pooling at your ankles. With a raspy chuckle, he leaned in close and pulled your ear lobe, "You just really can't wait to have me cum in you, isn't that right?"

He had you at a loss of words, biting your lip until it bled. Gwinam pulled you back by your neck, back pressed against his hard chest, "Answer me when I talk to you, slut," He warned, squeezing tighter.

With all the might you had left in you, you breathed out, "Y-Yes.. I can't wait.." Hearing your tears behind your words had precum dripping and his cock practically begging to burst.

Knowing he wouldn't last much longer if you both kept up with the constant teasing, his hands finally let their grip off you and to his pants. Your hands now pressed against the glass, your head dropped to avoid the painstaking scene of dead and dying classmates on the field outside.

As Gwinam finally dropped his pants and boxers, he let out a freakish grin seeing your distaste toward the chaos outside. Grabbing your jaw, he forced you to stare ahead as his pink tip circled your soaked hole.

It was all too much. You felt your pussy throbbing as you tried to find any way to make the dominance Gwinam was exhibiting less arousing.

"Watch them as I fuck you, Mouse," He purred into your ear, pushing his hard cock in slowly. You felt him stretch your fleshy walls, a soft groan sounding from both your throats simultaneously, "You wanna be good for me, don't you?"

You nodded with a whine, turning back to look at him with round eyes. He ran a finger across your lips before turning your head back to the window, angling his dick at your entrance.

As per his usual style, he gave no time in letting you adjust, immediately setting his rough pace. Each thrust let out a loud slap that echoed, angering the zombie under the piano further.

Your senses were slowly diminishing until you were just as brain-dead as the zombies—minus the dead part. Your hair pulled back by his hand, the one on your jaw now letting go and squeezing your ass. Though he had now let go of your face, you still remained looking out the window.

You wanted to be good for Gwinam. You were good for Gwinam.

Your emotions built up in your chest. Every erotic and devastated emotion. You wept as you watched the few survivors that made a break for the schools gates get eaten alive, slowly cracking and turning.

"Fuck—I love it when you cry, baby," He moaned, throwing his head back as his pace quickened.

Your eyes squeezed shut, feeling the slight overstimulation only enhance the pleasure you were feeling. Gwinam reached down, thumb instantly finding your clit and rubbing fast circles, matching his perfect pace against your throbbing cunt.

Your hole squeezed against his dick, and he 'tsked', "Don't you think about cumming." You nodded, placing a hand on your stomach. You could feel his dick sliding in and out of you, each time stretching your hole so that it would only ever be the right size for him.

He was marking you as his, and you didn't want it any other way.

Gwinam's hips stuttered, pace growing sloppy and uneven, "I'm gonna cum in you, okay baby?" He growled in your ear, licking a stripe down your jaw and to your collarbone, "I'm gonna make you mine, and you're gonna take my cum."

You felt yourself reaching the edge at his words, soft cries releasing from your throat as all you wanted to do was squirt all over his veiny length.

"Please.. Please let me cum, Gwinam, I'll be good," You whined, rutting your hips backwards against his, meeting them in the middle and bringing you both so much closer to your edge.

He shook his head, pulling your hair and causing a shriek to emit from your throat. He wanted nothing more than to have you creaming all over him, but he knew the pleasure he felt from commanding you was even better.

Gwinam bent forward against you, and he groaned as you reached back and pulled his hair. He grabbed your neck as he felt his high approach, knowing he wouldn't be able to take it much longer.

Finally giving you permission, Gwinam bit his lip, nodding his head, "Yeah, baby. Cum with me. I want you to cum." He muttered almost incoherently, and his approval was enough to snap the coil once more.

Following after you seconds after, you both continued your desperate movements against each other until the ropes of his semen remained inside your vagina.

The floor underneath you was dampened by your shots of cum, legs faltering. You fell against the window, Gwinam grabbing you by your waist and carrying your half-naked body into the supply room.

You were practically asleep as your body fucked-dumb was weak. He lay you on a sofa in the closet, not bothering to cover you up.

He knelt down, licking a stripe in your pussy filled with his cum. He could taste himself, salty and warm, the overstimulation causing your hips to jut upwards as your half-asleep self muttered under your breath.

Gwinam stood up, staring at you for a moment, before turning and heading toward the broadcasting room.

Maybe when you woke up, you'd think it was all just a dream, and would go back to fearing for your life—But the cum spilling out of you made you know that whatever had happened was real—and you knew you would want more.

#all of us are dead #all of us are dead ff #aouad #cheongsan #gwinam #onjo #gwi nam #gwi nam x reader #gwinamxreader #gwinam smut #aouad smut #nayeon #bare su #suhyeok #suhyeok x reader

321 notes · View notes

lynxgriffin · 8 months ago

Text

Hiatus Notice

Hi all, didn't want to make this post on my birthday, but I do need to do it now: I'm going to need to take a hiatus from drawing due to my wrist being hurt again.

Anyone who watches my streams knows that I still try and do my stretches while working all the time, so getting hurt again so badly that I can't work at all is nothing short of completely devastating to me. I have spent most of my time crying nonstop about it. All I can do now is the proper next steps...stop and rest, talk to my doctor about it, and hopefully get any physical or massage therapy I need so that I can recover and get back to work ASAP.

I don't know what my timetable for recovery would be right now, but I'm really hoping it's not as long as last time. I just know I won't be able to share any art until I'm better and can draw regularly again.

This just sucks because I already feel like I've been slow at things, and I had multiple things in the works...Eldritchrune comics, and also a project I was working on for the next anniversary. I apologize that it's going to be a wait before I can share any art again...even once I get back into drawing, my job still comes first.

I will update here more once I hopefully know what to do from my doctor, and I can still answer asks, but no art for awhile. I'm so sorry about the wait...trust me when I say this is my biggest nightmare, and I've been an emotional wreck about it.

And artists: please learn from my miseries and take care of yourselves, especially if you draw professionally. Take breaks, stretch frequently, drink lots of water, do NOT overwork, listen to your body, listen to your doctors and therapists. The world doesn't treat us as such, especially nowadays, but you are athletes. Take care of your body the same way an athlete would.

Thanks again for your patience.

#wrist health #...again #what a way to start my 40s #I may take the time to at least work on ER scripts for future comics and the ending in the meanwhile #since I can at least type (slowly) with my left hand #but do need to mostly rest...

483 notes · View notes

alesbianperson · 11 months ago

Text

football player!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: At the football play you visited to support your best friend, something happens that you didn't expect.

warnings: smoking (weed); slightly implied loser Ellie at the end; swear words; girls kissing (what a surprise); my writing idk

authors note: so firstly I mean football as soccer and not american football, but its not important to the plot so it can be interpreted as either; secondly, sorry for being so inactive I actually needed fucking half a year just for this its actually embarressing, I'm really slow at writing I don't know why, but I'm trying to be more active. I also didnt proofread so sorry for grammar mistakes or something anyway I hope you enjoy this!!

ALSO BIG DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN AND THE FACT THAT HE SUPPORTS ISRAEL!! If you don't know whats going on in Palestine, please go educate yourself because its highly important.

Here are a few links, so nobody can say it's too complicated or annoying to search for information (besides its really fucking heartless, cruel and totally not human to say "I dont wanna put effort in researching" while people are literally suffering and dying because of a genocide):

General information/updates

Brands to boycott

How you can help Palestine

Palestine masterposts: 1 2

--☆--

This evening was the final football game of the season. Everyone was so excited, and your best friend played in the school team, so of course, you came to this game to support her. You already arrived a bit late because you took a nap and didn't hear the alarm, so you quickly searched for your friends who were already sat and luckily saved you a seat. When they saw you coming in, they waved you over to them.

"What took you so long? The game has already started!" One of them said before switching their attention back to the field. "Sorry, I overslept." You explained yourself sitting down on your seat. "You didn't miss much, just a foul from the other team. They're so annoying and clearly playing anything but fair." Another one of your friends said, rolling her eyes while offering you a bag of chips. You declined and began searching for your best friend between all the other players, running on the field. Not even five seconds later, you found her. With the ball in front of her, she ran towards the goal. You joined the cheers of everyone from your school, sure that this was going to be such a great goal until:

A girl from the other team came out of nowhere, running towards her, tackling her to the ground. You gasped. "That was another foul!" One of your friends exclaimed, standing up to better see what the referee would say. But instead of also looking at the referee, your gaze still hasn't left the girl, responsible for the foul.

She looked pleased with herself. What an asshole! You thought to yourself, but couldn't deny that the way her eyes sparkled in the light and her auburn hair moved in the wind was mesmerising. Too distracted by her features, you realised a bit late that she was eyeing you too. A smirk on her lips, she winked at you before walking off the field, your eyes still on her.

"Too bad that bitch just got a yellow card. She deserved more, right?" Your friends, already discussing the decision of the referee, were turning to you since you were the only one who didn't comment on it. Heat rushed into your cheeks as you realised you hadn't listened the whole time, busy gushing over that girl. "Yeah.. definitely more." Was all you said to not keep the attention on you.

"Guys," you added after a short pause, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick. I'll be back."

"Sure."

"But hurry, they're already playing again."

You just slightly nodded before walking off to search for the bathrooms. To your luck, they weren't far away from your seats, so it didn't take too long to find them. As you closed the door behind you, a strong smell of weed filled your lungs. Holding a hand in front of your mouth, you coughed reflexively.

"Having trouble breathin', princess?"

You turned around to see the girl who fouled your best friend sitting on the sink, her legs slightly swinging forwards and back. She still wore her tricot but now had a grey, dirty, worn-out jacket over it. The half up half down bun she had was messed up, probably because of the constant running on the field, and between two of her fingers, she held an already half smoked joint.

Her smile rose as she noticed your gaze lingering on her again. "Y'want a photo? It'll last longer." She chuckled, finding this old ass joke very funny. You rolled your eyes at her words but couldn't help the smile, forming on your lips. "What are you doing here anyway, don't you have to play?" She blew out the smoke she held in her mouth before answering your question. "My coach replaced me. Said I needed a break before playing again." You just nodded because you didn't know how to keep the conversation going. For a few seconds, you both just looked at each other in silence. After taking another drag from the joint, she leaned forward, offering you to do the same.

"No, thanks. I don't smoke."

"Thought so." She chuckled. After a short pause, she added: "Not in a rude way, of course. Y'just don't look like you'd do drugs." Even though you knew it was childish and totally stupid, you now wanted to prove to her that you were indeed someone who could take drugs. So you took the joint out of her hand, carefully brought it to your lips, and inhaled.

You probably shouldn't have inhaled this deep because now you were coughing like someone poured tons of sand down your throat. It surely felt like it. When you calmed down a bit, you looked up again, handing the joint back to the girl on the sink, who was clearly amused. "What a brave girl." She said with a shit eating grin on her face. "Come here, I'll show you how it's done right."

She gestured between her spread legs. As you moved towards her, she leaned in, reducing the space between the two of you. "Open your mouth." She then proceeded to take a drag from the joint. As she moved closer, your breath hitched. Your eyes wandered from her gorgeous green ones down to her lips, and heat rose in your cheeks again. Without breaking eye contact, she blew the smoke she had in her mouth into yours. Reflexively, you closed it.

"Now hold it in."

And that's what you did. The smoke filled your lungs, this time a lot less painful than your first drag. After a few seconds, you exhaled slowly, a small smile of pride on your face.

Your faces were still very close, and silence fell upon the both of you again. The tension thickend. Her emerald green eyes stared directly into yours, abruptly blinking down to your lips. "Can I kiss you?" Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, fading into thin air. A smirk grew once again on her lips before nodding and then proceeding to lean in and closing the gap between the two of you.

Once her lips were on yours, she cupped your cheek, her fingertips brushing slightly over it. You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Her lips were so soft. You couldn't really describe the feeling, but it felt good. Like you were on cloud nine. You quickly synced with the rhythm she set, leaning forward so that her back met the wall behind her.

Your hands wandered behind her neck, beginning to tug on her hair slightly. A soft groan escaped her lips at the sudden impact, which sounded like music to your ears.

A smile formed on your lips once she broke the kiss to catch her breath. "What're you smiling at?" She looked at you irritated, which just caused you to chuckle.

"I don't know. You're.. pretty."

Silence followed after that.

"Pretty enough to get your number?"

Ellie wanted to bash her head against the wall at her cringe comment. She thought she'd definitely crossed the line now. But you just began laughing, quickly covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the sound.

"Sorry. Don't get me wrong I-", you interrupted yourself by holding up your finger to signal her to wait and began searching for your phone in your purse. Fuck. You thought as you realised you left it in your jacket with your friends and hurriedly searched around for something to write on. Ellie just watched you amused, catching on to your plan. She snatched a pepertowel out of the spender and offered it to you. You just gave her an awkward smile, fishing a half empty kajal out of your purse and scribbled your phone number on it.

As you handed it to her, she took it with the same smirk she had in the beginning. "As sad as it is, I think I have to go back on the field. My coach probably misses me by now." She added hesitantly while sliding off the sink and walking towards the door. "Cool meeting you, though." The click of the closing door was the last thing you heard before you were completely alone in the bathroom.

With the paper towel still in her hand, Ellie made her way over to the rest of her team, almost jumping with joy and thanking every mighty power for letting her survive the whole conversation without completely losing her mind or embarrassing herself. She'd definitely save your number as soon as she could. Actually contacting you was a whole other story.

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou x reader #wlw #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #football player!ellie williams #ellie the last of us #sapphic #tlou ellie

871 notes · View notes

hs-is-loml · 5 days ago

Text

Secret Never Meant To Be Told. (s.w)

Pairing: Sensei Wolf/Feng Xiao x Fem!Reader

Summary: A former Cobra Kai/Miyagi-Do student joins the Iron Dragons, intent on uncovering more about Terry Silver. But along the way, she finds herself drawn to someone she never expected. Her new sensei. Fast forward to the Sekai Taikai, and her carefully balanced double life begins to crack. When Wolf catches her speaking to someone she shouldn’t, suspicion flares, forcing a confrontation she isn’t ready for.

Type: one-shot

Warnings: READER IS LEGAL AGE, age-gap, minor slow burn for a one-shot, everyone knows except for them, forbidden kiss, friendship with Axel because he needs a friend, UNEDITED.

a/n: i'm back with my latest hyper-fixation. i also didn’t expect this to be this long, but i hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 5.4k

masterlist

Your phone buzzes in your hand while you’re waiting to board the plane to Barcelona, and you notice Robby’s contact pop up on the screen. You hesitantly look around to see if anyone who would get you in trouble is around but find no one aside from Axel near, you decide to answer the call. “Cover for me for a few?” you whisper to Axel while standing up from your seat.

“Yeah, be quick.” Axel nods reassuringly to you.

“Y/n? You there?” Robby’s concerned voice comes through the phone. You hear in the background, “Dude, I told you it wouldn’t be a good time to call!” sounding like Miguel.

“Yes. Sorry, just making sure I won’t get caught,” you mutter in a low voice, finding an empty spot near the gate. “I can’t talk for long. I board in 15 mins.”

“I’m with Miguel right now, and we just wanted to check in on you. How are you holding up?”

You let out a sigh before a small smile settles on your lips, “As good as I can be. Sore as hell, though Wolf’s no joke with training. He has Axel and me up by 5 a.m. every day to train for the past two week since he’s named us captains.” You look over your shoulder to see Axel signaling to you to hurry up. “Silver hasn’t shown up in the dojo lately, but he keeps in contact with me for updates on the tournament. He’s meeting us in Barcelona on the first day of full events.”

“I wish we could do something to help you, Y/n. They’ve been keeping you on this too long,” Robby says, frustrated with his dad and Mr. LaRusso. “Be safe, okay? We’ll see you soon,” and the line goes dead.

When you turn around to start heading back, you’re met with Wolf’s hard stare piercing into you as he approaches Axel and your seats. You see him say something to Axel but can’t make out the words.

“Personal call?” Wolf questioned you in a dry, unimpressed voice as you sat back down. “I thought I said no distractions,” he leaned down to coldly mutter close to your ear while placing a firm grip on your shoulder, causing you to lean back and meet his eyes again.

“It wasn’t one, Sensei,” you answered through the loud announcements to tell passengers that boarding would start soon, causing him to release his tight grip and sneer while walking away from you.

Axel let out a breath of relief next to you, “Always lucky. If that were me, I would’ve paid the price by now.”

“Axel-” You warn.

“I am just saying no one could get away with the things you do,” he remarked while grabbing both your bags and leading the way to the plane entrance. “I mean, come on. He let it go, just like that? No way. Not to mention he doesn’t even like it when we’re too close together.”

While we were waiting for the people in front of us to find their seats, my neck snapped to turn to him taken aback by what he just said, “Now, you’re going too far-” I scoffed.

“Am I?” Axel breathed down by your ear pressing closer to your back with his front. “Look up.”

Sparked by curiosity, you tilt your chin up and look around the plane and find Wolf’s icy glare already on you and Axel. You look long enough to see him clench his jaw. “I’m still not getting your point...”

“You will soon enough. He’ll snap sooner rather than later,” he let out a deep chuckle.

You stand next to Axel and Zara, waiting for your bags to come out. Zara points out her luggage to Axel, asking if he can help her get it, leaving you alone waiting for your suitcase. You see it finally drop down to the conveyor belt and you wait for it to come around to your side. You lean down to reach for the handle, but you see a tattooed hand grab it for you. “I could’ve taken it.”

“I’m sure you could,” Wolf smirked, setting your bag down beside you before walking off.

Before you can think too much about what just happened, your phone screen lights up with a new message from Miguel saying landing in 3 hours! sensei larusso said that he’ll text you our room numbers later if you find a moment to get away from the team

You hear your name being called, so you begin walking over to the team and like Miguel’s message before putting your phone away. “Texting a boyfriend?” Zara teased, raising her eyebrow to you in curiosity.

You turn to glare at her before replying, “Wouldn’t you love to know.”

“Can’t have our captain distracted with a long-distance boyfriend, now can we?” she questioned back as the team started to make their way to the bus that was taking everyone to the hotel.

“Enough, Zara, keep your voice down,” you warned, giving her a pointed look.

“I don’t know how you got the captain’s spot after suddenly showing up a few months ago, but I won’t have you embarrassing us during the tournament.”

“If I remember it correctly, I beat you for this spot,” you reminded her before making your way to sit next to Axel, who saved you a spot near the front of the bus.

“Do you always have to argue? Is it an American thing?” Axel shook his head at you in amusement as you settled in your seat. “You know I think you would be happier if you just ignored her.”

You scoffed lightly. “I need some type of entertainment, and it just so happens that arguing is the most interesting thing that happens around here.”

The speakers boom as Gunther begins his introduction for the Sekai Taikai, “Welcome, competitors, senseis, sponsors, and esteemed guests to Barcelona, this year's home of the world's greatest karate tournament, the Sekai Taikai.” He pauses as loud cheering erupts in the arena room. “The Sekai Taikai boasts a rich and proud history. And if you are here, it's because you embody all that the Sekai Taikai stands for. Leadership, respect, sportsmanship. Captains, step forward and tie on your headbands.”

The room tensed the moment the captains stepped forward onto the mat. Conversations stuttered, eyes narrowing as teammates straightened their shoulders. You glanced at Axel before he gave you a nod of reassurance. You center the headband in your hands then raising to your forehead to tie it back.

“Captains, you will have the honor and privilege to compete in our televised tournament of champions. But that is only if your dojo does well enough in our team competitions to make it to the final four. Once the tournament is over, we will then tally all the points your dojos have earned. The dojo with the most points wins the Sekai Taikai. Team events begin tomorrow,” Gunther adds to his speech. “Each event counts. They will all be a surprise. But today, it's about enjoying our host city and making new friends.”

You break your focus away from Gunther speaking and catch Tory’s stare. You felt your pulse jump. It takes you aback for a moment, realizing what gi she has on. Even more so when you look behind her to see John Kreese smirking back at you.

“We have a field trip arranged for our competitors. And for our senseis, a cocktail mixer with our distinguished sponsors, some of the world's finest martial arts brands. It's a beautiful day to make a first impression. And I suggest you enjoy it, because tomorrow, your lives will change forever. Good luck, and welcome to the Sekai Taikai!” Gunther finished sending everyone off to figure out where to go next.

You planned not to go on the stupid field trip and instead find some solace in your hotel room, but by the looks of it, Wolf knew what you were thinking to do. “I’m not going.”

“You will go,” you could tell in his voice that there wasn’t any room for you to argue. “You will represent the team and show you are better than every single one of them. I saw that girl who surprised you from the Cobra Kai dojo. I will not have you show any weaknesses. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sensei,” you hissed out in reply.

“Good girl. Now go make sure the team comes back in time for last-minute training after dinner tonight,” he murmured, his voice dipping slightly.

“Y/n!” you glance behind you to see who called your name, to find Tory alone in by the aquarium with you.

“Tory-” you breathed out in ease. You quickly approach the girl and pull her into a quick embrace. “I heard what happened. I’m so sorry about your mom.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, Tory. Don’t do that to yourself. It’s okay to not be okay,” you leaned back to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

“You couldn’t have known,” she shook her head and looked down before telling you, “I think I made a mistake coming here. I’ve ruined every relationship I have by coming here with Cobra Kai.”

“I understand why you did it, and I don’t blame you for it. You deserve the spot of being captain. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“They hate me-”

“No. They just need to get over themselves and realize this isn’t about them.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, Tory. It’s been hell being in Hong Kong these past few months, but I don’t regret it,” you admitted to her. “The training they have us do is on another level. Not to mention, Silver trusts me more now, away from everyone.”

“I’m sure it helps that your other sensei likes you,” she told you jokingly.

You let out a small snort, “No.”

“Oh, I saw the way he pulled you to the side earlier after we were dismissed from the introduction ceremony…” she revealed, but before she could continue, you heard a loud commotion, causing you to dart away from Tory to see what was going on.

You come to find people crowded together and see Robby talking to a guy from Cobra Kai, “What, I gotta kick above that line?” you heard Robby ask.

“Oh, what have you gotten yourself into,” you muttered under your breath. “Robby,” you called out in warning, catching people's attention in the room.

You felt a nudge at your side, “You know him?” Zara points to Robby with a smirk, “Wanna introduce me?” Axel stood next to her and gave you a look of disapproval. You ignored

At first, Robby didn’t really notice her. But then, his eyes flicked back. For a second, it was enough to make him forget what he was about to say. The others behind him let their gaze flicker over their old teammate with careful neutrality, lingering just long enough for a silent exchange. Miguel looked over like he wanted to say something but knew it wasn’t the right time. “Y/n,” Robby muttered lowly, but the silence in the room allowed for many to hear, confirming any suspicions of us knowing each other. “I got this,” he said before taking a step back to focus on his kick. He landed higher than the rest, but as you side-glanced to the Cobra Kai guys, you could tell they weren’t worried.

Before Kwon goes up to make his kick, you blurt out, “Care to make things interesting and let me go after you? I get the rooms if you lose, and you get two if I do.”

“For you, princess, sure,” he smirked at you doubting your abilities. He chalked his shoe and kicked, which landed higher than Robby’s. You knew this was a risky call, given the circumstances. “All you, now.”

Axel exhaled sharply, shaking his head just enough to make a point. Next to him, Zara had muscle twitched in her jaw with her expression screaming, ‘Are you serious?’ You just hoped deep down no one would tell Wolf about this once you guys got back, but you knew better than to hope for such things. You took a running start and grunted, “Ais!” as you kicked the board. You let out a heavy breath as you land back on your feet.

“No way…” you heard someone say.

“Unbelievable,” Zara let out in disbelief.

“Who is she?” “Did you see that??” “I didn’t know someone could kick that high.” “What dojo is she from?” murmurs filled the room, causing you to look at your mark that was just above Kwon’s kick. You let out a laugh and smirked at the Cobra Kai guys while holding out your hand for their cards.

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave your bags in the hallway,” you grinned, taking the hotel cards.

People started to flow out of the space, and you let out a yelp of surprise as Miguel and Hawk took you in their arms in cheers. “Oh, thank god you were here.”

“Had to make sure you idiots didn’t get yourselves in trouble,” you laughed. “It seems I was cutting it a bit close on timing. Anyway, here are their hotel cards. I don’t need it.”

“You don’t want your own room?” Demetri questioned while Robby took the cards from your hand.

“No. I have my own room already,” you told them.

They raise their eyebrows at you skeptically, and Miguel asks you, “How’d you manage that?”

“Silver is to thank for my room,” you revealed. “He wanted to make sure I had no distractions while I’m here.”

“Of course, he did,” Robby scoffed at the mention of Silver. “What else does that maniac have you do lately?”

“Train until I feel like my legs are going to fall off,” you joked, trying to lighten up the tension. “I know he has people watching me to make sure I’m 'on track' with progress. He reminds me every time that if I lose here, that won’t be the worst thing I experience-”

“You’ve got to tell Sensei LaRusso and Lawerence about this,” Miguel butts in concern.

“I can handle this, Miguel. I’m already too far in. Anyway, I got to go and make sure my team is back in time for training. I’ll see you guys out on the mat, okay?” I turn walking away from them.

It was late. Too late for training, but no one dared to complain. Tomorrow was the first of team events, and every second counted. “Just wait until Sensei Wolf hears about what you pulled earlier,” Zara sneered at you loudly as the team filled the space.

Wolf entered the room looking directly at you, “Hear about what?”

“Nothing. I did what you said to do earlier. I showed them I’m better,” you said, voice firm and unwavering while crossing your arms in front of you.

“And how did you do that?” he walked up until he was close enough to stare down at you.

“I won. Doesn’t matter how.”

“Fine,” he backed off before turning back to face everyone in the room. “Tomorrow will be the first day of team events. You will all show them we do not lose. That we are invincible.”

“Yes, Sensei,” people responded around the room. The team dropped into fighting stances, getting ready as they launched into synchronized movements, their punches and kicks slicing through the air. You’re faced against Zara, who lunges at you. Managing to block her attempt, you, in a blur of motion, struck back with a controlled sweep to her legs. Zara barely had time to react before she hit the mat, hard.

Sensei Wolf circled them like a predator, his sharp eyes scanning for weakness. When someone faltered, he noticed. He always noticed. He tsked in disappointment as Zara pushed herself off the mat.

“You’re going to pay for that one, bitch,” she spat out at you.

“I don’t think I will.” your eyes met Sensei’s, and he gave a sharp nod.

Wolf studied you for a long moment before speaking. “Again. All of you. Faster. No hesitation.”

We stood stone-faced as Gunther introduced the round of events. “Welcome to our first event. I hope you’re all well-rested and ready for a new and unique competition. We call it the “Captain’s War.” We told you how important your captains will be, So let’s see how well you protect them.” From the corner of your eye, you see Miyagi-Do look at each other nervously. “Four dojos will take the mat. Only one will be left standing. If you hit the mat, you’re out. If one of your captains hits the mat, your entire team is out for this round. Check the boards to see your group, decided by random draw. Group A, you’re up.”

“You know what to do,” Wolf growled as he gripped onto mine and Axel’s arms. He let go of Axel, pulled me back for a moment, and leaned down to my ear, “Let them come to you. Then, take them out. Don’t let them get back up.”

You listen for the other dojos' plans for attack and take note of Kwon’s as he tells his team, “We take Miyagi-Do first. They're weakest. Let them come to us. Then we fight the other dojos.” You already know that won’t work, and Tory knows it too.

You switched your attention to Miyagi-Do and saw the words “Protect the egg” fall from Miguel’s mouth. “Ready? Begin!” Gunther booms from the speakers.

You stay back with your team as you watch the others take each other out one by one. You can tell that Miyagi-Do won’t last long when Tory breaks straight through their front line. Everyone can see the team arguing with each other, unable to agree on their next move. The other Cobra Kai members went after another opposing team. None of them seemed to notice us as we stood tall, waiting for our moment.

“Falchi Della Notte captain down. They are out. Only Cobra Kai and the Iron Dragons remain alive,” came through the announcers.

“All six are still standing,” Tory mumbled in disbelief.

“What is your strategy now?”

“Same as before. We’re outnumbered two to one. Pierce the front line, go straight for the captain,” you hear her say to the two guys while she looks directly at you.

“Okay.”

No words were needed between you and Tory but the tight line of your mouth said enough. Your teammates break their form as Tory, Kwon, and Yoon begin to charge, halting them mid-in their tracks. “What are they doing?” Sensei Kim questions from the side. You keep eye contact with Tory as your teammates begin to walk around you and Axel.

“I’ll take the girl. You two get the big guy.”

The fight erupted between the guys. Cobra Kai spread out trying to divide and conquer, but they realized it didn’t matter that they outnumbered us. Axel sidestepped Kwon’s punch with ease, his counterstrike landing hard against the guy’s ribs. A sharp exhale of pain followed, but Axel didn’t give him a second to recover. Then, he switched with a quick sweep to Yoon, and he hit the mat with a solid thud. Tory looked away from you to notice her teammate down. You take a moment to glance at Axel but don’t dare to spare another second looking.

Axel’s expression was calm but calculating. He shot forward like lightning, closing the gap before Kwon could reset. A quick one-two punch to Kwon’s stomach doubled him over, allowing Axel to make the quick grab to push him, and Kwon’s back crashed down, hitting the mat.

Tory knew she had to play this smart. You were faster, sharper, and you had the skill of waiting for the right moment before attacking. Tory tested the waters first. She sent a quick jab, a feint, then a real strike.

You didn’t even flinch. You weaved between the attacks, your footwork crisp, light as air. Then, you struck. A snap kick that Tory barely blocked in time, stumbling back from the impact. Tory grunted, adjusting her stance. She needed a better approach. She stepped in again, faster, aiming for your ribs, then your head.

Blocked. Blocked.

Tory’s stomach twisted, she could tell you were reading her like a book. Before she could rethink her approach, you made your move. A fake low kick then a switch-up. Tory reacted to the low feint, but you were already airborne. A spinning roundhouse.

The heel of your foot crashed against Tory’s temple. Tory’s vision blurred and her balance wavered. She barely had time to react before you swept her feet out from under her. Tory landed on the mat hard. Hitting it in frustration.

The crowd’s cheers were distant, muffled beneath the pounding in your ears. The referee’s hand rose to signal the victory, but none of that mattered. Not yet. “Both Cobra Kai captains go down. The Iron Dragons win.”

You turn to look for Wolf and realize he’s already watching you. He smirks at you, giving you a nod of approval. Your stomach flipped, and your breath hitched, your heart slamming against your ribs. The weight of his gaze pinned you in place, more intense than the fight itself.

You make your way to the elevators to head back to your hotel room for a quick shower before the next event. When you were close to reaching the doors, a hand grabbed you from behind you, causing you to yelp before you could realize that it was Miguel pulling you to a private room.

“Miguel! You can’t do that here!” you screeched, hitting his arms. “I was this close to punching you,” you huffed out while pinching your fingers close together as an example.

Miguel let out a laugh, watching you get worked up. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I just didn’t know when I would get another chance to see you alone. You are either always with the giant brute or your killer sensei. Who, by the way, I think is completely into you.”

“Who? Axel? He’s like the big friendly giant.”

“No, pendeja!” he flicked you on the forehead. “Your sensei! That man never takes his eyes off you. Like, ever.”

“Wolf? No, he’s just like that,” you played off.

“So he looks at everyone like he wants to devour them?”

“Miguel!”

“What? I’m just stating the obvious here. Which you want to pretend isn’t true.” Your cheeks flush with heat as you think about Wolf. “See, you’re blushing!”

“No, I’m not,” your hand flew to cover your cheeks.

“Whatever. Enough about them. I want to talk about the captain’s war from earlier. I need advice.”

“Like the fact you should’ve been captain and it’s super obvious that Robby isn’t focused because of Tory being Cobra Kai?”

Miguel shook his head in amusement, “Yes, exactly that.”

“I think you guys need to all sort your shit out before you come back onto the mat because it’s ruining you guys from actually having a chance here. Everyone can tell that you’re not together as a team, and they will use that to their advantage every single time.”

“What, like how the Iron Dragons are a team?” he scoffed, remembering how you and Axel took the fight.

“No, that’s different. Axel and I are enough as captains alone. But you guys have Robby whose head is so far away from the tournament and Sam barely even looks like she wants to be here,” you tried to explain to him. “The rest of you need to work together to make sure they don’t bring you down, unlike how the captain’s war went for you guys today.”

“Bring us down?”

“Miguel, I saw what happened earlier. Everyone did. You took two guys from Cobra Kai at once today, but Robby couldn’t even get past Kwon. I just don’t want to see you fail. I know how much this tournament means to you,” your voice came out sharp, exasperated like you’ve been holding it in for too long. “Forget about Stanford. Forget about the team issues. Forget about everything. Just fight and do it for yourself. Prove to them the leader you are.”

“Okay,” his voice was hesitant, as if unsure of the words. You took it as a sign to pull him back in for another hug, leaning your head on his shoulder, “You should take some of your own advice and do something for yourself,” you heard him murmur into your hair.

“If only it were that easy,” you sighed while pulling away.

“It could be.”

“Not with him. Not with Silver whispering into his ear,” you scoffed at the thought.

“Maybe after all of this then?”

“Maybe,” you said wistfully.

Miguel walked out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You let them linger in your mind, thinking about the what you were risking by starting something with Wolf. You had a mission while being here. To prove you have what it takes to be a champion, and you weren’t going to let anyone take that away from you. This could risk you everything you worked for these past few months and ruin your cover to learn more about Silver. If Wolf found out, you wouldn’t just be losing your spot in the tournament. You’d lose him before you even had a chance to have him.

But maybe he was worth the risk.

You stepped out of the room and looked around carefully to see if anyone you knew was around. Just your luck, you saw Sensei Wolf talking to a group of what looked like other senseis in the lobby. His eyes flickered to the side, catching you. His head tilted like he was confused or more like processing something.

You beelined for the elevator in hopes of avoiding him. You were close to making it alone in the elevator, but a foot stopped the doors from closing. To only reveal Wolf with a sinister look written across his face. He stepped in, and the doors closed behind him. He continued to close the gap between you until you were trapped leaning against the wall with your face turned away from him.

His hand flew to your neck, applying a firm but gentle pressure, guiding your gaze back onto him. “What were you doing in that room?” Wolf hummed, eyes scanning your face.

“Needed a moment alone,” you let out quietly.

“Alone?” he drawled. His grip on your throat tightened for a second, and you noticed his jaw clenched with tension.

“Yes.”

“Do you think I am a fool?” he jeered, making no effort to hide his disdain.

“No, sensei,” you replied in a breathy tone as you tried to push yourself more into the wall to gain some distance between you two.

The elevator rang and opened its doors to your floor, and Wolf dragged you into the hallway. His grip now fell onto your wrist, leading you to your hotel room. “Open the door.”

You fumbled around your bag for your keycard. You quickly unlock the door and walk in, setting your bag on the bed. He comes in, slamming the door behind him shut. You stay silent, not knowing what to say that won’t anger him more. You already knew you got caught, but you didn’t know how much he knew.

“I am going to give you one more chance. What were you doing in that room?” his voice ringed with steel behind each word. “Do not lie to me again.” he sounded low but forceful, voice tight with suppressed anger.

You let out a breathe you were holding, rubbing your temples when you answered him with, “Why does it matter? I give you the results you want. So why does it matter what I do?” You were pushing your luck, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving in.

Wolf let out a single, humorless chuckle, “It matters when I think you’re not here to win.”

“This tournament is everything. I will not fail.”

He closed the distance in two sharp steps, stopping just short of colliding. His breath was warm against your face as he growled, “Then tell me what were you doing in that room.”

“I was talking to a friend-” your voice failing you at the end as your breath hitched at the close proximity between you two.

“Friend. Is that why you looked so guilty walking out?” he spat out.

You broke your gaze from him and turned your face away, “Nothing happened.”

“Say that again,” Wolf used his finger to redirect your face to meet his eyes.

“We only talked. Nothing happened.” you were hesitant, paused between words, voice softer than usual.

“Then what are you hiding.”

“Nothing.”

“I SAID DO NOT LIE TO ME AGAIN,” he yelled into your face, making you take a step back until your legs hit against the end of the bed.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you tensed.

“And you don’t get to lie to me. So tell me what you were doing with that boy from the pathetic Miyagi-Do,” he sneered. “Wouldn’t want him to get hurt now?”

“He’s nothing, Wolf. He’s just a means to an end,” you explained cautiously, lying through your teeth.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed all the secret looks and phone calls and the constant hiding of your phone from anyone who could see,” Wolf pointed out. “I know you’re hiding something.”

“If you knew then, why do you care now?” your voice was tight, wondering if you really want to the answer to this or not.

“You’re my champion,” he stated slow and deliberately.

“Yet, I don’t know what you want from me anymore,” you sighed.

“Everything.” Wolf pulled you to him by your hips, making you gulp at the action. You’re holding on by a thread to your self-restraint. His lips broke out in a small smirk that was close enough to brush against your lips, mumbling, “Give in.”

Your breath was uneven, hot against his skin as you whispered, “I shouldn’t.”

“But you can.” and neither of you moved away.

Instead, he raised one hand to brush his fingers against your jaw, featherlight, as if memorizing the shape of you, as if giving you one last chance to walk away. Your lips parted slightly, a breath caught between want and restraint.

Then it snapped.

He crashed into you, his lips searing against yours. You gasped into the kiss, hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more. His grip tightened at your hip, anchoring you to him.

You knew you were being reckless, but at the moment you couldn’t care anymore. You were doing this for yourself. You move your hands to go around his neck to try and pull yourself up to him. The kiss was fast and feverish, making you gasp slightly and allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. You kissed until all the breath left your lungs and even then you never wanted him to stop.

His teeth grazed your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine. Your hands found his hair, pulling it with need. The world blurred around you. The way you fit together like a secret never meant to be told.

Then a noise. A knock against your hotel door.

A reminder of reality.

You tore apart, chests heaving, eyes wild. His lips were red, swollen, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you, something raw and untamed in his gaze.

Heavy silence stretched between you.

“We shouldn’t have-” you started, voice barely a whisper.

His thumb brushed your lip, tracing where his kiss had just been. Claiming.

“I know.” His voice was low, rough. And yet, neither of you held any regret.

#cobra kai #cobra kai season 6 #sensei wolf #sensei wolf x reader #sensei wolf x you #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai x you #lewis tan #iron dragons #fanfic #cobra kai fic #cobra kai fanfiction #reader insert #feng xiao #feng xiao x reader #sensei wolf cobra kai

229 notes · View notes