#this will be a t shirt... maybe a print...

[blxksun]

18+, minors and ageless blogs dni

camboy!lee know who didn't even start out (or think of doing it) because of his own thoughts. getting thirsty comments in his cat caretaking videos. comments about how hot he was, that jaw, those eyes, weird comments about sitting on his nose, how big his arms were, his thighs, those veins, those hands. and then one from a "mrknowskittycat: please tell me you have a link, please tell me you have a link, please tell me you have a link" and one day being affected by them.

camboy!lee know who does it because he finds desperation funny, not his, (even though the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants reeks of desperation), but the viewers. they'd been still waiting to get him out of his clothes.

camboy!lee know who doesn't even have a schedule for when he goes live, because he knows people will show up anyway. and quickly too. especially since the title is, "playing today".

camboy!lee know who, even now, still finds it funny. he doesn't even do anything on the livestream. he just sits there in a t-shirt that has the sleeves cut off and the light gray sweats. of course he's freeballing, it's comfortable, not because the comments that are thirsting are amusing. definitely not.

camboy!lee know who has a light smirk on his face as he reads the comments that are particularly needy. "is the print not enough?, you just have to see it don't you?", "if you want me to play so bad, play with yourself first, tell me about it, i might get fomo", "i don't punish my kittens, i just don't give them treats, who knows maybe i'll cave, give you one"

camboy!lee know who moves slightly in a stretch and lets out a groan. laughing when ping! ping! ping! ping! comes in. "you guys gift for a stretch, how kind, still doesn't convince me you want me to play". tone condecending, smirk still tight on his lips, and a tiny breathy laugh accompanying it.

camboy!lee know whose breath catches when he sees a familiar name in the chat. "onlymrknowknows": i just joined, because i was watching your old streams. i was so pent up from all your teasing that since seeing you my hand has been in my pants. i just got paid so i'll tell you all about it <3". finally, just who he was waiting for.

camboy!lee know who tells the other viewers to tell 'onlymrknowknows', thank you and that they should take notes on how to get what they want out of him. moving his hips up to slowly shimmy his sweats down to mid-thigh. hard cock, almost as veiny as the rest of him, clear essence shining at the tip, springing up as it was finally free.

camboy!lee know who stroked his cock with vigor, as the detailed report of viewer masturbation came through on his screen. front teeth the only thing showing as he moaned. struggling to keep his eyes open to read because 1. the image in his head is going crazy right now and 2. he needs to know when they cum. he really wants it to be at the same time. his tough and nonchalant facade completely disregarded, because he teased himself by teasing the viewers, everything felt way too good right now, his thumb rubbing just right on his tip. and he whimpers. the tough guy whimpers, and then breathily whispers out "f-fuck, look, you got shit-what you wanted, please, i need you to cum with me, please, please, fuckkkk please ah- oh god!" and it's so whiney.

camboy!lee know who doesn't even get to see the last message come through, because it hit him. eyes screwed shut and hips practically levitating out of the chair. he cums pathetically, shooting up onto his tee, some landing on his thigh. and the nerve of him to come down, face flushed, open mouth panting, teasing eyes and smirk becoming ever present. "okay , i played, bye". leaning up, ending the stream immediately, leaving viewers wondering when he'd be back next.

blxksun2025 do not copy or translate my works. happy reading !

a/n definitely making one for the other two, might do a poll for that one as well. this is a work of pure fiction, nothing in this work is a true reflection of the real person this fanfiction is based around. vote for the next one here

[voie-lacte3]

best friend! reader

✩ 17. funniest person alive. senior in (upcoming) highschool. chickfila. obsessed with spiderman. steals masons clothes. protective af. can drive. queen of selfies. matches energy really well. posts everything. old justin bieber + taylor swift. calls mason's mom "mom". most oblivious person. pitbull named charlie. body tea. certified yapper. jokingly bullies mason.

best friend! mason thames

✩ 18. golden retriever energy. dark + dirty humor. respectful gentleman. charismatic rizz master. never shuts the fuck up. coffee ice cream. private person. has known you since forever. clingy and touchy af. flirty. popular. passenger prince. is always down for fast food. j.cole + the weeknd. always smells good. professional giggler. does whatever he feels like. obsessed with spoiling you.

how they met...

the little devil spawn 5 year old mason thames was, did not like sharing. and everyone knew.

he liked his juice boxes cold, his crayons organized by color, and the dinosaur nap mat in the corner all to himself, thank you very much.

so it was a surprise when mrs. ivy knelt down next to him and said, "mason, we have a new friend joining us today. can you show her around?"

he blinked up at her, unimpressed. "what if i don't wanna?"

but then you walked in— messy space buns, sparkly twinkle-toes, clutching a spiderman backpack like your life depended on it. you looked nervous. like maybe this wasn't where you were supposed to be. like maybe you'd rather be anywhere else.

and mason?he stared. stared a little too long, in fact. so long that the teacher nudged him gently and whispered, "mason, say hi."

so he did.

or tried to.

"uh... hi," he mumbled, tugging at the hem of his green dino t-shirt. "d'ya like dinosaurs?"

you blinked at him. then nodded slowly. "but only the long-neck ones. not the bitey ones. the bitey ones are mean."

he gasped. "you mean the t-rexes?!"

you scrunched your nose. "they're stinky."

and right then and there— little devil spawn mason decided he liked you. because no one had ever called a t-rex stinky before, and you said it like it was law.

twenty minutes later, mason was dragging you to the reading corner, 2 coloring sheets in hand, whispering like it was a secret, "i don't like nap time either. mrs. ivory always prints out something for me to color, here." he hands you a t-rex, "you color my favorite, i'll color your favorite."

he sat beside you, keeping a full two inches of space between your knees because boundaries, obviously. but when you handed him a crayon (purple, slightly chewed on), he gave you a shy little smile.

"i’m y/n," you finally introduced, making a silly face. "i’m mason," he mumbled back, looking at your dinosaur. "...he looks cool."

"thanks. his name is sir chomps-a-lot."

when nap time was over, the 2 of you exchanged papers, a huge smile on your face as you stared at the messy scribbles. "its beautiful mason!"

soon it was snack time, you pulled a fruit roll-up from your bag and he had goldfish.

you offered to share.

"but these are rainbow goldfish...." he said, pouting. "and we're best friends, we gotta share stuff," you replied solemnly.

he didn’t question it, just let you stick your hand in his pouch of goldfish anyway.

by recess, you were stuck like glue. he showed you where the monkey bars squeaked, and you taught him how to swing without dragging his feet. you played pirates, except your ship was actually the slide, and you kept making him walk the plank (even though he kept laughing too hard to jump off).

when the bell finally rang and the teacher clapped her hands, mason frowned.

frowned so much his mom questioned him when he came out the doors. "you okay sweetheart?" "no! i made a new friend today and now i have to wait till tomorrow to see her" he pouted, crossing his arms.

at the same time you squeal, "mommy!!" and race into your own mom’s arms— inches away from mason.

then it happened. your mom walks towards mason and his mom, "hey you guys ready?"

little mason's eyebrows furrowed, "did you invite her for dinner or something?" "mommy thats my new friend!" both woman chuckle, "mason, this is our new neighbor mrs. l/n, she and her family moved across the street a couple days ago"

you and mason both gasp, "WE'RE NEIGHBORS!!?"

"YOU LIVE ACROSS THE STREET?!"

mason grabbed your hand like it was instinct. "that means we can play every day."

you jumped up and down, both moms chuckling, watching as their kids walk ten steps ahead—planning backyard picnics, popsicle parties, and the ultimate mission: building a blanket fort big enough to stretch across the street.

a/n: kindy shitty...sorry guys

| check out the rest of this au!

tags: @bluebvrriee @v4mpire-bit3s @neroloops @m-e-m06 @icollectrubberduckies @tuttifrutt1 @unsaidjaelinrose @sorry-for-party-rocking-rah @courta13 @thegr8estpuff @90zl1ps @user168537 @katie-the-bookworm @cecedelove @ktaerssoi @celestiiql @hyukabean @slutforchrissturniolo2 @greekgirldream @superlegend216 @charleymaymay @daphyyyy8888 @care-eliza

[heartmush]

clocking in… 🐟🐟🐟🐟

[nekrosmos]

Can I- is there a chance I can see the edited/newer version of the Konig art you did 👁️👁️

OF COURSE !! I mostly just tweaked the eyes and the colors a bit, and slapped some grainy texture on top owo

[sjonni33]

also you can get this shirt with this REALLY cool design i made for the annual raw paw design challenge! 🌐

[boyjoan]

theoretically if i were to want to design my own t shirts what medium would I use

[closetofcuriosities]

Björk Bootleg Tee

[astrowake]

I felt going off of the mental orbit when we’re at a mall and I was tryna figure out if there’s anything here that I’d like to buy for my rebirthday on the 25th…

[nekohrine]

okay fine. i will make my own merch. at work

[gender444]

im going in next saturday to do more screenprinting and when i get home ill probably do my huge $5/shirt weekend sale cause i rlly do want to get these OUT of my apartment!!! a lot of them are misprints + i bought all the shirts bulk so idrk the best way of presenting them so ppl can pick from them..? maybe ill make a main post that links to the sale post and i can organize shirts by size in there or something IDKKKK but if u are at all interested in one of my combination lock T shirts the idea is all of them are flat rate $5 which will cover shipping anywhere in the USA :p

[daydreamingtomatos]

comedic anime sweatdrop because someone is oversimplifying a complex topic that i can't claim to be fully educated on and my direct input would not be helpful

[mochateadri]

alright heres where im at thus far with the patches

i printed out all my designs on half of my light fabric, and the results are mehh most i can probably end up selling but i am still debating, the tiny design i made keeps printing a lot thicker lines than intended and i cant tell if its from the ink building up or if im inking it too much

ive also had to order a soft brayer instead of the hard one i have because the hard brayer doesnt pick up ink evenly on the glass i roll the ink on, i think because its a pretty low quality roller, hoping a soft brayer wont have that problem. i also ordered a baren to help press more even and another ink color (that i thought i bought already lol)

im also going to cut away more of the backing of the stamps because im getting a lot of chatter on the prints which is fine and all but theyre smudging instead of printing clean so they just look bad

[yourworldiseternallycomplete]

started this post with "is it cringe" which i dont agree with as an inquiry in like a fundamental ideological way so restarting

i lowkey really like online ceramics type stuff lol especially the bill evans merch... i dont have money like that for oc but i do really love the bootleggy screen printed thing like all my current fave shirts are like that...

[kobracola]

the worst thing about trying to thrift mcr merch online is the frankly offensive number of listings that'll describe the shirt as super rare and vintage and y2k early 2000s scenemo babygirl hot topic is selling that exact print for twentyfive dollars. the official mcr store is selling it for thirty. kys

[callsign-bobsgirl]

Baby On Board

Pairing: Bob Floyd x f!Reader Summary: There seems to be a misunderstanding between you and the Dagger Squad about your husband's callsign. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: Unbeta-ed, rusty writing and one clumsy allusion to smut. Otherwise none.

When the gang found out that Bob could actually talk to women, they were shocked.

When the gang found out that Bob had been talking to, coming home to, and loving on the same woman for the past ten years, they were somehow less shocked.

What shocked Bob — although in retrospect it probably shouldn’t have — is just how adamantly everyone insisted on getting to meet the Mrs. Bob Floyd. The mystery that the quiet WSO kept under wraps. This Friday at the Hard Deck, seven o’clock.

Which is what he groaned into your neck early that afternoon after Mav had sent everyone home early as a reward. The two of you lazed about on top of the covers, the box of clothes half unpacked and forgotten at the foot of the bed the minute Bob walked through the bedroom door.

“I was hoping to keep you to myself for just a little longer,” your husband whined; turned humming as you ran your hand through his hair.

“I’m more hurt you didn’t immediately tell them about your hot wife in Lemoore,” you muse, “I mean what if I came down to surprise you, hmm? What if I popped down to the Top Deck before we permanently moved down huh? And that … Flameman or whatever tried to hit on me because he didn’t have it burned into his skull that I’m the lovely Mrs. Floyd hmm? What then?”

Groaning, Bob lifted himself to his elbows, pressing kisses to your jaw, “When we meet Hangman at the Hard Deck, he’s probably gonna hit on you anyways, if nothing else than to try and get a rise out of me.”

“Ah yes, you and your famous impulsive temper,” you tease.

Sliding a hand from Bob’s torso up to his shoulder, you quickly flip him over so you’re on top. Grinning cheekily you lean back on your haunches, getting to work on Bob’s belt while he fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt, waiting for his turn to strip you of the offending cloth.

“I’ll talk to my sister, see if she can’t reschedule some stuff for Friday,” you say, reaching your hand down your husband's briefs and getting a pleased hum in response.

—

When the two of you walked into the Hard Deck, you for the first time, you let Bob lead you through the crowds of people and he pointed out the different ranks of aviators, the obvious gaggles of tag chasers, and the old-timers who were loyal to the bar. You did your best to listen but you were busy smoothing down the sundress Bob loved so much and it was really loud in here.

“Stop worrying,” Bob leaned down to say in your ear, “You can run miles around these guys.” The WSO paused for a second, “Maybe not … physically, but in every other way.”

You laugh as you slap the back of your hand against his chest, “will Phoenix be here at least?”

“You see the guy in the Hawaii print?”

“Uh-huh”

“See the woman who just jabbed him with the pool stick?”

“Yeah?”

“Phoenix.”

The two of you approach the pool table everyone is crowded around but before you can announce yourself, a boyish-looking man with amber skin whistles and waves across the pool table, bringing everyone’s attention with him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bob!”

Everyone clamoured to meet the new arrivals, but you didn’t miss how one of them — a blond, cocky-looking son of a bitch with a toothpick dangling from his lip — held back, only to eventually push his way past an ‘LT. Fitch’. 

“Well Darlin’, it sure is nice to finally meet you,” his grin sure does take over his face, huh, “callsign Hangman, but you can call me Jake,” he says with a wink.

You share a look with Bob — who had just returned from the bar with your cocktail and his peanuts — and yeah, Hangman was exactly as you imagined him.

Saying a quick thanks to your husband and making sure to drag your fingers across Bob’s as you take the glass from him, you turn back to the other blond who won’t stop with the cocksure smirk. If Bob hadn’t warned you that Jake, for all that he was like … well this, was harmless and wouldn’t actually try anything; you’d be throwing the drink in his face.

But you also figured the alcohol would do better in you than on him.

Later in the evening, after everyone had had a few drinks and you’d loosened up, Topman sauntered back over to your stool where you were admiring your husband bent over the pool table.

“I gotta admit, I am mystified at how our Baby on Board managed to snag you,” the pilot kept going, finally getting a chuckle out of you.

‘Cause yeah, ‘Baby On Board’, that was funny you’d give Bagman that one. You didn’t get why it made the rest of the squadron look at you weird though.

“What?” you ask. 

You also couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling when Rooster swatted the back of Hangman’s head, but Phoenix is the one who elbows herself up to Hangman, going between glaring at him and raising her eyebrow at you.

“You … you do get what Bagman’s saying about Bob here, right?”

You nod, still not getting where the miscommunication lies.

“That Bob is … you know, a baby?” she explains.

Right as you emphatically exclaim, “fucks!”

And boy if that didn’t get the guys hooting and hollering, as your husband’s face turns bright pink.

Did these guys not get it? There’s a reason your Robby was one of the only two squadron members who’d even made it down the aisle. The way his hair was never out of place in uniform, how it bounced when he was out of it, and how soft it felt between your fingers. Those blue eyes that demanded your attention and turned you into a puddle when they darkened. Did his squad think you could let him do more than an hour of yard work in the summer, chest all sweaty and glistening before you beckoned him back into the privacy of the house? Or even worse, when he danced from the kitchen to the living room, carrying mugs of hot chocolate, on Christmas in those ‘family matching’ pyjamas.

‘Bob is a baby’ for the best of the best in the navy, these people were fools.

“I don’t get what the big fuss is,” you tell the aviators, “honestly, with every year that passes I half expect a kid to reach out from wherever he’s been deployed over the years.” Which gets another round of laughter out of your husband’s colleagues.

Robby knew you knew how insanely in love with him you were and how much you trusted him, and you knew how deep his devotion to you was — which is why instead of defending himself he just hid his red face in your hair. Already hearing the jokes he’ll face on base next month. You bringing a hand up to clumsily yet comfortingly cup his jaw helped though.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Payback says sincerely, “it's just that the Bob we know, the Bob we work with … it's kinda hard to see the Bob you know in him.”

And that’s when you realize. If Robby hadn’t told his squadron anything about you, then he definitely hasn’t said anything about …

“No I get it, my Robby can be on the quieter side, and probably downplays his moves at work” You hear Robby groan in your ear, knowing exactly what you’re about to reveal; and you gear yourself to revel in the shock you’re about to create. 

“But he did get three kids out of me.”  

The yelps of surprise and demands of proof had everyone in the bar glancing over at the pool table, but you and Bob just laughed at them as he handed over his wallet: showing off the five of you in the small ID window.

_____________________________________________

A/N: this is 100% from my own misunderstanding of Hangman's joke the first few times I watched the TGM, I truly thought he was implying Bob must always have a baby on the way because look at him??? Anyways, first time posting in the fandom. Come on over and say hi! And ... idk, live laugh love long and prosper.

also s/o to @sailor-aviator for helping my brain when it wasn't braining ♡

[calypso-rt]

this is my first req ever but im obsessed with your honeymoon fic and i can't stop thinking about eloping with rafe??? just going away and getting married without telling anyone. just us two. vows are intimate af. soft emotional rafe. coming back to the obx as mrs. cameron. AHHHH pls <3

elope

-> Rafe x F!Reader

Summary: When a spur-of-the-moment decision leads to a chaotic, love-drunk elopement, you and Rafe Cameron find yourselves navigating married life with zero preparation, but with plenty of laughter, stolen kisses, and the smug satisfaction of returning to the Outer Banks as Mr. and Mrs. Cameron. 𓏌

-> ily anon for your sweet words and unique request, hope I made ur first request worth it <3

✈︎ The Getaway

It starts as a joke. A stupid, reckless, deliriously in-love kind of joke.

You’re both sprawled out on the couch, legs tangled, some movie playing in the background that neither of you are actually watching. Your fingers are absentmindedly tracing patterns on Rafe’s arm when you sigh dramatically.

"What if we just ran away and got married?"

You expect him to smirk, maybe throw back some witty remark about how you’re already his anyway. Instead, he lifts his head, eyes glinting with something dangerously close to excitement.

"Say the word, baby."

You scoff, assuming he's messing with you. "Yeah, okay, Rafe."

"No, really." He’s upright now, turning to you completely. "We could. Just go. Right now. You scared?" His lips twitch like he’s challenging you.

You roll your eyes. "Oh please. If anything, you’d be the one chickening out."

That’s all it takes.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re throwing clothes into a duffel bag while Rafe is… well, not. He’s just standing in your doorway, watching you with the dumbest grin.

"Rafe, pack something," you huff.

"I’ll just buy stuff there," he shrugs, ever the rich boy.

"Where’s your bag?" you demand.

He shrugs. "Figured I’d just wing it."

"RAFE."

"What?" He laughs. "Babe, I got my wallet, and I got you. What else do I need?"

You groan, but before you can argue, he’s tugging you out the door, fingers locked around your wrist as if he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You won’t.

By the time you get to the airport, you’re both giddy, high off adrenaline, grinning like a couple of kids sneaking out past curfew.

"Are we actually doing this?" you ask, clutching onto his arm as he coolly slides his black Amex across the check-in counter.

Rafe just smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Babe, we were married the second you said ‘What if?’"

...

A Chaotic “I Do”

Turns out, when you spontaneously elope, you don’t exactly get a say in where you end up.

You and Rafe take the first flight out, purely because it’s the next one boarding. And now? You’re standing in the middle of an airport, squinting at a Welcome to the Bahamas sign.

"Okay, solid choice," Rafe says, sliding his sunglasses on like this was all part of the plan.

"We literally picked it at random."

"Yeah, but still. Ocean, sun, you in a bikini? Feels like fate."

You both go straight to the nearest beachfront shop, which is exactly what you’d expect: cheap sunglasses, “I ❤️ the Bahamas” T-shirts, and neon-colored swimsuits.

"Babe, look at these!" Rafe holds up a pair of matching floral-print button-down shirts.

You wrinkle your nose. "Absolutely not."

Rafe tosses one in the basket anyway.

By the time you check out, you have the most ridiculous wedding attire: a flowy white sundress for you (not quite a wedding gown, but it works), and some linen pants and a half-unbuttoned shirt for Rafe (because of course).

You both needed a place to get married. The only available option? A tiny beachside chapel run by an old woman named Martha, who takes one look at the two of you, disheveled, sun-kissed, grinning like fools, and nods approvingly.

"Y’all are one of those love-drunk couples, huh?" she says, already reaching for a pen.

"You have no idea," Rafe smirks.

The ceremony is absolute chaos.

There’s no music, just the sound of waves crashing outside. The ring situation is even worse. Rafe had to buy a cheap one from a souvenir shop (it’s literally got a tiny turtle on it, but he swears he’ll get you a real one later).

Martha starts speaking, but you barely hear it because Rafe keeps whispering things in your ear:

"I still think we should’ve gone for the floral shirts." "Babe, stop laughing, you’re gonna ruin the moment." "Damn, you look good in that dress. Gonna have a hard time focusing, baby."

You swat at his chest, but your cheeks hurt from smiling.

And then, somehow, you’re at the part where she asks if you take Rafe to be your husband.

You don’t even hesitate.

"I do."

Rafe’s eyes soften just a little. "Yeah," he says, voice warm and thick with affection, "I do, too."

And just like that, you’re married.

"Now kiss your bride," Martha says, and Rafe doesn’t waste a second, dipping you down in the most dramatic kiss, nearly toppling both of you into the sand outside.

"See, baby?" he murmurs against your lips. "Told you we were married the second you said ‘What if.’"

...

The Honeymoon Phase

🍊 Breakfast in Bed (Kind of…)

You wake up to the smell of something…burning.

"Oh, no."

Before you can even sit up, Rafe bursts through the door, balancing a tray with way too much confidence for someone who is actively sloshing orange juice everywhere.

"Morning, wifey," he grins, way too pleased with himself.

"Rafe—"

"Made you breakfast." He plops the tray onto the bed, which, by the way, now has a bright orange stain soaking into the sheets, and gestures proudly.

It’s… a mess. The toast is questionable, the eggs are slightly charred, and there’s a very concerning amount of butter on the pancakes.

"You set something on fire, didn’t you?" you ask.

"What? No. Maybe. Doesn’t matter." He shoves a buttery, sticky, orange juice-soaked pancake toward your mouth. "Eat up, Mrs. Cameron."

🏝️ Beach Walks (feat. Rafe’s Need to Be Dramatic)

The sand is blazing hot, and you try to walk normally, but one step in and you immediately yelp, hopping from foot to foot.

Rafe laughs, but before you can even complain, he scoops you up effortlessly, arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

"I gotcha, baby."

"Rafe—"

"Shhh, just let me be your hero."

You roll your eyes, but you don’t protest.

"Y’know," he smirks, adjusting you in his arms, "technically, carrying my wife across the sand is, like, tradition or something."

"That’s for crossing a threshold, not—"

"Baby. Let me have this."

⚭ Introducing You as ‘My Wife’ Every Chance He Gets

It starts off cute.

Like when he checks into the hotel: "Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Cameron."

Or when he orders drinks: "And one for my wife. She just married the luckiest guy in the world."

But then? He just doesn’t stop.

☀️ At breakfast: "My wife will have the French toast. She deserves the best, obviously." ☀️ To the surf instructor: "My wife’s never surfed before, but she’s a natural at everything, so I’m sure she’ll be great." ☀️ To random people: "Oh, you like her dress? Thanks, my wife looks good in everything."

At some point, you just start staring at him every time he says it.

"What?" he grins.

"You really love saying that, huh?"

"Saying what?"

"‘My wife.’"

"Well…" He leans in, kissing your temple. "It’s my favorite thing to call you."

And just like that, you’re completely ruined for him.

...

💍 The Ring

You're standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your hair, mentally preparing to leave this dream-like trip behind. The past few days had been perfect: messy, chaotic, and perfect.

"You ready?" Rafe's voice is casual... too casual.

"Yeah," you sigh, turning to face him. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

And that's when you see it.

A small, velvet box in his hands.

"Rafe—"

"Hold on," he interrupts quickly, flipping the lid open before you can say anything else.

And there it is.

The ring.

It’s beautiful, an actual engagement ring, nothing like the cheap little band you impulsively grabbed at the tourist shop before the ceremony. The diamond catches the light, shimmering, sparkling. It’s classic, elegant, and somehow… so you.

"You—" Your voice catches in your throat. "Rafe, when did you—?"

He rubs the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish, which is insane considering it’s Rafe Cameron standing in front of you. "I might’ve, uh, left the hotel at, like, four in the morning to find a jewelry store."

Your mouth opens, then closes. "You did what?"

"Babe, you deserve a real ring." His voice is softer now, serious in a way that makes your heart do dangerous things. "Something that actually… I don’t know, means something. Something that lasts."

You blink. "Rafe."

"I know we did this all backward, but…" He grins, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it onto your finger. "Had to get you something that actually makes people jealous."

You laugh, but your eyes are already misty as you look down at your hand, his hand still wrapped around yours.

"It’s perfect," you whisper.

His smug little smirk softens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good. ‘Cause you’re never getting rid of me now, Mrs. Cameron."

...

🏡 Back to the Outer Banks As Mr. & Mrs. Cameron

The Pogues’ Reaction

JJ nearly chokes on his beer when he sees the gold band on your finger.

"Shut the fuck up," he says, eyes wide as saucers. "You married Rafe?"

"Congratulations," Kiara deadpans. "Or… condolences?"

Pope just rubs his temples, processing the insanity. "You guys were barely even dating!"

Rafe throws an arm around your shoulder, looking insufferably pleased with himself. "Guess we’re just efficient."

Sarah stares at you, then at Rafe, then back at you. "You— You eloped? Like, actually eloped?*"

You shrug, suppressing a mischievous smile. "Well, yes."

"Bro," JJ turns to Rafe, baffled beyond belief. "You’re a psychopath."

Rafe just smirks. "And now she’s stuck with me forever."

The Kooks’ Reaction

Topper’s jaw drops. "You did what?"

"Married her," Rafe repeats casually.

"You can’t just— That’s not—*" Topper just splutters for a second. "Why wasn’t I invited?"

"There was no invite," you explain, smirking at his distress. "It was very in the moment."

"So you—" Kelce pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to comprehend this absolute madness. "You just ran off and got married. Just like that."

"Yup."

"You’re both insane," he says, but there’s a smile creeping onto his face. "But also… kinda iconic?"

𓏌 Married Life

Everyone’s still reeling from the news. Your phone hasn’t stopped blowing up.

JJ threatens to throw a “belated bachelorette party” despite it being entirely too late.

"You do realize you’re a Cameron now, right?" Topper reminds you every chance he gets, as if you somehow forgot.

Rafe won’t stop introducing you as his wife, relishing every second of people’s reactions.

You catch him randomly grinning at you like a lovestruck idiot.

"What?" you ask one night, curled up on the couch together.

"Nothing," he murmurs, smirking. "Just like saying Mrs. Cameron in my head."