#one piece fa art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-cimmerians · 11 months ago

Text

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

#fannish shenanigans #fandom history #rare ass personal post

5K notes · View notes

rainboweemart · 4 months ago

Text

Opening art commissions tomorrow!! ✨

Please look forward! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

#I’ve been receiving multiple art requests ( mostly after posting that egghead fa #so I decided to go for it and try doing comms! 🤩#It’s gonna be my first time going public.. kinda nervous haha 💦#art comms open #art commisions #one piece #my art

24 notes · View notes

vxnuslogy · 2 months ago

Text

— 1:43 coincidences.

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

premise: kinich wasn't one to indulge in the creative waters of writing or english. but for a chance to know you, he'd willing jump into the ocean.

— warnings: none

— author's note: this was supposed to be for his birthday but i got lazy half way through so yeah. this is also a part 2 of 11:11 wishes and i highly recommend you read this one first!! art credits to @.n249g on twt. | 2.3k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @mikashisus @https-sourlimes ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms in my pinned!!

english—writing class to be specific—was one of kinich’s least favorite subjects in school. not to say that he didn’t appreciate books and stories, he just simply preferred the more straightforward subjects like p.e. and math. he never really could wrap his head around the ideas of using so many literary devices to make a statement sound flowery. why can’t author’s simply say that the sky was blue or that the sun has set? kinich, more often than not, found them all unnecessary.

until you, that is.

kinich met you by coincidence during one of his basketball practices. a loud shout of his name from the stands and an enthusiastic mualani made him cringe internally as his teammates wiggle their eyebrows. with a roll of his eyes, kinich drops his water bottle on the benches and readied himself for whatever mualani wanted to do. his head curiously tilted to the side when he caught sight of you.

you and mualani were the same height, you held her bag in your arms as you scroll through your phone. kinich must have stared a bit too hard. you looked, meeting his eyes with a curious but embarrassed gaze. suddenly all the metaphorical pieces of literature he once found exasperating had an entirely new meaning as you flashed him an embarrassed smile. he found himself captivated–unable to look away even when mualani came to obscure his view of you. with a heavy breath, he tried his best to keep his attention on her words, but he ended up missing the way your lips turned upward and eyes turn into small crescents.

it would’ve been cute, dare he say romantic, with the way you kept stealing glances at him. kinich felt a certain itch at the back of his mind to at least smile back, but he never got the chance to. not when a stray basketball flies past his head and nearly hit you all the way from the stands.

“hey! watch it!” mualani shouts. hands gripping the metal bars tightly, ready to jump down and pick a fight with the player who had nearly hit you.

kinich stood there, baffled and perplexed about you. he found your way of tugging at mualani’s arm amusing as she yells and points an accusing finger at ororon. you shake your head with a sigh and offer him an apologetic smile when he should be the one doing that. with his own heavy sigh, kinich turned around and crossed his arms, a scolding look in his eyes as everyone avoided his gaze.

“kinich you better put your team in place or i’ll do it myself!” the volleyball captain in the stands yelled with an angry huff. she copied kinich’s pose and narrowed down her eyes but she simply looked like an angry kitten.

kinich’s ears picked up on your airy giggle and felt the hairs on his arms rise. karma must be coming back to bite him in the ass because now, at this very moment, he wished he’d paid enough attention in english class to find a way to describe the way you captured him with just one glance.

much his teacher’s surprise, kinich finally began to participate in english class. he would raise his hands to answer questions and when called, he’d try to answer even if he struggled. all of his classmates concluded something must have happened—you can’t really blame them for being curious, after all, kinich only took interest in very few things.

he began to frequent the local bookstore too. drifting from one aisle to another, eyes skimming over the spines of the books he once took for granted. ironically, he found himself indulging in a newfound fascination with how words worked. a certain wish deep in the columns of his chest to find a way to describe you in the same way. that’s when kinich ceased all his skimming. ever since that day, he’s been thinking about you, more often than he should.

he knew you and mualani were close—attached to the hip with the way you grew up together. the council president would often brag about your achievements as if they were her own during breaks from meetings. mualani always had something to say about you—all ranging from nice, embarrassing, and intriguing. you also ate lunch together. kinich would always notice how mualani packs extra lunch and when the bell rings, you’re always outside the classroom. bag slinged over your shoulder, a book under your arms as you entertained yourself with your phone.

during all of these times, kinich’s eyes will always slide over to your figure. trying to capture your mystique on paper with his rookie capabilities in writing. and for the second time, he must have stared too much because you ended up catching his stare. your eyes glossed over the opened book on his desk, the many sticky notes with messy notes, pens and highlighters matching the book cover, and how he keeps tapping his pen on his notebook. his finger’s twitched, heart lurching forward into your arms when your eyes twinkled with familiarity of his actions.

he was doing an activity for english class. and that’s when it all clicked into place.

you flash him a smile as mualani tangled your arms together and tugged you to the direction of the cafeteria. no wonder your laugh sounded so familiar, it was the same sound he heard during english when he paid attention to everything but the lesson. the book under your arms had the same colored annotations as his and even the blue bracelet on your wrist looked familiar. you were the student sitting a few seats back from him.

“what a coincidence,” he murmurs, shifting his attention back to the activity due tomorrow. but his mind betrayed him for the second time because instead of writing down his interpretations in the notebook, the word “beautiful” was instead jotted down. and kinich isn’t talking about the book.

dismissal hours and kinich did not mix well. while others packed their things to go home, he stayed behind to work with the council on the bulletin board. with a thud, he dropped to the floors as the others laugh. mualani ruffled his hair and promised they’ll be quick today, which he highly doubts with the way there was paint on her face and poorly hidden paper planes made out of spare papers. he shook his head in amusement and started getting to work.

by the time the clock hit 5, everyone had bid their farewells and kinich was left alone boarding the last bus of the day. he mindlessly paid the bus fare and looked for any available seats. the grip on his school bag tightened ever so slightly when he caught sight of a familiar mop of hair and blue bracelet in one of the seats. like a sailor being captured with a siren’s song, kinich made his way to you and cleared his throat.

you look up at him with the sun in your eyes. and he wonders if you’re aware of them. “is this seat taken?” a beat of silence passed before he caught the way your eyes widened and shook your head no. kinich swore he could hear the drumming of his heart as the sun sets behind you, casting a golden glow that makes you even more captivating.

“oh no, no! not at all,” you stammer out with a crooked smile. kinich nods in thanks and sits down. this must be the awkward presence of a blooming crush the books he’s read were talking about. he wanted to bury his head in his hand in sheer embarrassment. of course he concludes he had a crush on you as you’re sitting next to him. of course he just had to be awkward as you steal glances at him every now and then, trying to think of a way to strike up a conversation.

“are you done?” you ask and kinich has never reacted to a sound so fast in his life. “with the book review i mean.” another smile, another reason for kinich’s heart to beat. he cleared his throat and looked away, muttering a soft yes under his breath. you don’t speak another word after that and kinich curses mualani for sleeping over at a friend’s house today.

now, kinich wasn’t one to abuse his position as a council member nor did he ask teacher’s for favors–but there’s a first for everything. with a knowing mualani behind him, he takes a shaky breath in and knocks on the faculty door to excuse his english teacher to ask to be partnered with you.

it was such a bizarre and surreal feeling. kinich was simply about to go to bed after basketball practice when mualani had decided to blow up his phone with messages and screenshots. conversations with you filled with all capital messages, numerous exclamation marks, and sobbing emojis he began to associate with you began to fill his mind as his heart started to expand.

“ I WISH HE’D BE MY PARTNER FOR THE BIOGRAPHY PROJECT 😭 😭”

kinich never paid any attention to the project despite having more interest in class—he didn’t have any particular interest in anyone, except you. so for you to wish to have him as the subject of your written creativity, how could kinich resist? and there wasn’t any difficulty in convincing your teacher too. a poorly executed excuse of maybe having your creativity rubbing off on him was all it took for the two of you to be paired up.

when he leaves the faculty, mualani greets him with a knowing smirk, her hands behind her back as the two quietly make their way back to the never ending task that is the bulletin board. the girl made sure not to point out the excited glint in his eyes and how a smile threatened to spill from his lips when you passed by and waved at her.

“you’re such a goner,” mualani teased with a shake of her head. she only stuck out her tongue at him when kinich tried to kick her shin. but he didn’t try to deny anything, all he could think about what kind of questions he’ll ask you in the span of a month.

“blue. you were wearing a blue bracelet when we first met and i really liked it.”

“and”

“it suits you”

“is that a weird thing to say?”

it was embarrassing how quickly kinich closed his phone and put it on silent mode. that was something so unlike him to say—even his punctuations and spacing of messages felt out of place. but could you blame him? that damn blue bracelet complimented the tone of your skin, how light seemed to bounce off it and become a magnet–begging for him to hold.

and was it wrong of him to assume you liked green because of him? he noticed earlier this week that your gaze lingered longer whenever he wore his jersey jacket and this one hoodie xilonen gifted him. “the color reminded me of a calming walk in the forest,” you had said when he sat down in front of you as he asked why you were staring (leaving out the part of the giddy feeling he’s captured your undivided attention with just a piece of clothing. he then wonders what you’d look like if you were the one to wear it.)

could you give his poor heart a break? after all you nearly injuring yourself trying to make it to class wasn’t on his agenda for the day (but he’ll never admit how nice it felt for you to cling to him). he never meant for your fingers to brush as you picked up the papers on the floor, nor did he mean to look away so quickly—missing the way your cheeks turned pink.

kinich’s gaze flickered over to that blue bracelet again as you checked your appearance on your phone, then it moved to your bag, and like a sailor following the north star, he took it from your back and said, “let’s go to class.” his voice was quiet—dare he think shy—as he covered half of his face with a curled fist.

you denied his offer to bail you out of a lecture from your teacher and he promptly agrees. but kinich knows, deep down in the ocean of his heart that you won’t get in trouble when he’s by your side. maybe it was the adrenaline–or maybe just you–he loved to chase. he took steps and steps in your direction to pluck a stray leaf stuck in your hair. he doesn’t miss the whiff of your perfume—woody with hints of citrus and some cinnamon in the mix.

you smell like sunshine and the partner he wants for the rest of his life.

after the biography project, kinich finds himself sitting with you in a park after classes got canceled. you asked him to push you on the swing set and he complied without much of a fight.

“i wish you’d be my partner for this project, and wouldn’t you know, it actually happened.”

“oh, i know.”

kinich laughs, something he does more with you, at your dumbfounded expression. the realization that mualani had snitched on you and that he went out of his way to make sure it happened like you wished for sent your cheeks ablaze. kinich loved the sight of you under the afternoon sun as he goes in front of you, on one knee like those cheesy prince charmings in stories you always gushed about.

“be my partner for life, that was my 11:11 wish today.”

if you were to ask kinich what his favorite season was, he would answer summer within a heartbeat. summer was the season when you met, the colors of the sun bathing you in all his favorite colors as you cheered him on from the stands during basketball matches with his name on your back. the many ice cream runs where you both complain about the heat, or when you drop by the council room to try and cool off because the ac is stronger. summer had you in it, but kinich wouldn’t mind experiencing the other seasons with you too.

#—stellaronhvnters.#kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact kinich #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

466 notes · View notes

etheraltides · 2 months ago

Text

MY SUNSET ˚✧ﾟ

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Artist!Reader

Summarize: Reader is painting while she waits for Rafe to come home.

Warning(s): none, I guess. Rafe's daddy issues.

A/N: Something cozy cause we're all humans, right? Feedback is always heartwarming!

The evening sun cast a warm glow across the beach house, settling into soft, golden patches on the walls. Rafe stood in the doorway, loosening his tie with one hand, his other rubbing at his neck. His face showed exhaustion – a subtle droop in his eyes, a faint frown line between his brows that deepened with every passing day. He let out a sigh, dropping his briefcase by the door with a dull thud. Being the man of the family could be exhausting sometimes.

Your eyes were trained on the canvas while you brushed steady strokes on it. The loud music playing on the headphone helping you to not overthink your decisions about this piece. You wanted it to be natural, something from deep within you.

Rafe knew that after calling out for you a couple of times and getting no responses where to find you.

You were so focused on the painting that you didn't even notice when he opened the back door and walked down the stairs, moving behind you. He waited until you moved the brush away from the canva to lean down and place a kiss on your cheek.

He smiled agaisnt your skin as you jumped in place, dodging your srained brush when you placed your hand on your chest.

"How long have you been here? I didn't see you coming." You smiled at him, your cheeks burning from the jumpscare as you placed the brush down, wiping your hands on the cloth.

"I just arrived and assumed you'd be here."

You titled your head to the side, a small smile on your lips as you notice his tired eyes and heavy shoulders. “Long day?”

He looked down, a faint smile breaking through his fatigue. “You could say that” He murmured, unbottoning the fa few buttons of his shirt and making his way over to you.

You were sitting cross-legged on the outside couch, dry paint smudged on your fingers and a touch of blue staining your cheek, making you look like a work of art yourself in Rafe's eyes. Brushes and a half-finished canvas rested on the table nearby, and Rafe’s eyes softened at the sight of you. There was something utterly comforting about coming back home to you - like when that orange sunray hits your skin during a sunset.

He slumped down beside you, his shoulders sagging, and you reached out without thinking, your hand tracing lightly over his shoulder. “You’re so tense.” You remarked, your fingers pressing gently into the tight knots at the base of his neck.

You couldn't remember the last time Rafe took a break. A real one and not those parties Topper and Kelsey were always inviting him to.

Rafe closed his eyes, a sigh slipping from his lips as he leaned into your touch. “Feels like I’m carrying the world around” he muttered, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You chuckled softly, shifting to kneel behind him. “Well, the world can wait. Let me help.” Your hands found his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the firm muscle, working through layers of tension with slow, careful strokes.

Rafe’s shoulders rose and fell with each breath, his head dipping forward as he surrendered to your touch. You could feel him loosening under your fingers, the hard lines of his posture softening. His breathing grew slower, deeper, as though your touch had grounded him.

"You and those magic hands, huh." You could hear the smirk in his voice, chuckling.

You leaned in, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “Think you can relax for a few minutes?”

His lips curved, eyes still closed, and he mumbled, “I’ll try.”

You continued working your hands down his back, your fingers firm but tender, kneading out knots with a gentle persistence. You felt his shoulders drop further, his body melting under your care. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching occasionally as he let go of the stress of the day. You tilted your head a bit to watch his face, his expression easing from its usual guarded tension to something softer, almost vulnerable.

Rafe’s voice came, a low murmur. “You know… I don’t think anyone’s ever done this for me before.”

Your hands paused, just for a beat, and then resumed their steady rhythm. Your heart sank with realization. “Really?” You brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Then it’s about time.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “Guess I got lucky with you.” His head tilted slightly, a faint glint in his eyes as he looked back at you.

Your smirked, rolling your eyes, though your cheeks warmed. “Well, someone has to keep you in line.” You gently squeezed his shoulder, a playful edge to her touch.

Rafe’s lips twitched, his gaze softening as he moved his hands to your waist, bringing you to straddle his lap. “And you’re perfect for the job, aren’t you?”

Your fingers slowed, your hands resting on his shoulders as you shared a quiet look. You could feel his heartbeat steady beneath your touch as you moved your fingers down to his chest, and something unspoken passed between them - a silent understanding, a comfort found only in each other’s presence. Home.

Rafe lingered under your touch a little longer, breathing in that familiar scent of paint and something floral, your presence a gentle balm to the weight he carried daily. The silence between you was thick with an unspoken intimacy, but he found he didn’t mind it. For the first time in hours, he felt at ease.

After a few minutes, you slid down beside him on the couch, leaning your head back against the cushion, your fingers still tracing absent patterns along the exposed skin of his chest. He tilted his head to glance at you, a hint of curiosity sparking in his gaze as he noticed the streak of paint on your cheek again.

“Still working on that painting?” His voice was softer, the edge worn off by your presence.

You followed his gaze to her paint-streaked fingers, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah… lost track of time. It’s been tough getting it right. I just...” You paused, looking off thoughtfully before turning back to him. “You ever feel like something is close to being perfect, but you can’t quite… capture it?”

Rafe considered her words, his gaze flickering down to your nails scratching the paint off your skin and taking your hand in his, a stark contrast to his own. Smaller, warmer. Your dedication to your art, to something so different from his structured world, was something he admired - quietly, almost reverently.

“All the time.” He said, his voice low. “It’s like there’s this… picture in your head, but you can’t reach it. Can’t even touch it sometimes.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against a tender spot you had just relieved. His mind went back to the role model of a son his dad expected him to be and how he could never get even close to that, even when he thought he was making progress. “But I’m guessing yours involves a little more paint."

You smiled, a soft laugh slipping out as you reached over, your fingers grazing his cheek, leaving a faint blue smudge. “Looks like you’re part of the art now, too.”

Rafe gave her a mock glare, though his eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. “Glad I could help,” he said dryly, but he didn’t wipe it off. Instead, he leaned in, kissing your shoulder. “So, what’s this masterpiece gonna be?”

You hesitated, tucking your legs beneath you as you angled toward him, your expression almost shy. Rafe couldn't understand how humble you were and sometimes even insecure about your art when everything you did was breathtaking. “It’s… it’s supposed to be a mix of things. Like… nature and people and everything kind of blending together. But it’s tough. Every time I think I have it, I look again, and it’s just not there yet.”

Rafe’s gaze softened. “You’ll get there.” The words held more confidence than he often felt himself. “You always do.”

You looked at him, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “You’re biased.”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong, though.”

Both of you settled into a comfortable silence, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm draped around you almost instinctively. The world beyond the backyard faded away, the pressures and stresses replaced by the quiet hum of familiarity, of being home.

After a few minutes, you stirred, breaking the silence. “You know… we could both use a break.” Your voice was light, but there was a note of longing in it.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, curious. “Thinking of a getaway?”

“Maybe.” You looked at him, your eyes bright with something he hadn’t seen in a while. “I mean, we talk about it all the time, but… I don’t know. What if we just went somewhere? Just us. No work, no deadlines. Just… you and me and a week with nothing but time.”

He considered it, the idea settling over him with surprising appeal. Work had been unrelenting, and the idea of stepping away - for a short while - sounded like the relief he hadn’t realized he needed. And the thought of you beside him, somewhere far from the noise of his daily life, was… tempting.

“Anywhere in mind?” he asked, his voice a shade lighter, almost teasing.

You tapped her chin thoughtfully, your eyes drifting as though you could already see it. “A beach maybe… with clear blue water, warm sand. Or… I don’t know, maybe somewhere with lots of art and history. Or a cozy cabin with nothing around us but trees and stars at night.”

Rafe chuckled, amused by your enthusiasm. “So… every vacation idea, basically.”

You nudged him playfully, your laughter filling the room. “It’s called variety, Rafe. Ever heard of it?”

His lips quirked up, and he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers. “Alright, let’s say… I’m in. Where’s the one place you’d want to go first?”

Your eyes softened, a dreaminess overtaking her expression as you mulled it over. “Italy,” you said finally. “Can you imagine? All that history, the food, the art… and the coastline. We could spend days wandering through old streets and galleries, then head to the beach by sunset.”

The way you spoke about it painted a vivid picture, and he found himself wrapped up in the idea, too but truth be told: he'd go anywhere with you. Even being locked in the bedroom with you would be a dreamy vacation. “Italy” He repeated, rolling the word around as if it were a foreign but tantalizing concept. “Never been. But I could go for that. Though… if we’re going, you’re gonna have to handle the language part.”

Your grin widened, your eyes dancing at the idea of trying to use all the Italian you learned by yourself a few years ago, at the possibility of leaving the country for the first time. “Consider it done.”

They talked late into the night, exchanging dreams and ideas for that trip, letting themselves get lost in fantasies of cobblestone streets, Italian sunsets, and lazy mornings. Rafe found himself captivated by the way your eyes sparkled, the way your voice softened whenever you spoke about the art, the people, the life waiting beyond their world.

At some point, he had leaned back, his head tilted against the couch, watching you more than really listening, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with their imagined vacation.

Your voice dropped as you continued talking, your words like a gentle rhythm in the background, and he realized you had a way of drawing him in, pulling him out of the exhausting reality he was constantly entrenched in. You were his escape, his sanctuary.

Eventually, your words trailed off, and you glanced over, her eyes catching him in a lingering, soft look. “Are you sure you're really in for this?”

He blinked, surprised by the intensity of the connection he felt in that moment. “Yeah.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it held a depth of sincerity. “With you? Absolutely.”

For a while, you simply looked at each other, the quiet promise of your shared dreams hanging in the air. You moved closer, tucking yourself against him, your hand resting on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.

And as they drifted off, the night wrapping them in its quiet embrace, Rafe knew that no matter where life took them - Italy, the beach, or even just their own city - you'd be there beside him.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outerbanks #rafe cameron x you

310 notes · View notes