mayanneaa

[mayanneaa]

𓂃　 ⁺ ₊ full throttleˊ˗

chapter one ; psychopomp

⭒ synopsis ᵎ 〜 it was supposed to be just another late night in a garage that smelled like oil and rust. but then she showed up. car looking like hellfire, grimy tank top, eyes like she's been to places most don't come back from. ellie williams drags you into the underworld of street racing. she races like she's got a death wish. fast, reckless, and alone. you're the right person in the wrong seat and the only shot she's got left. ⭒ content ᵎ 〜 street racer!ellie x mechanic!reader . afab reader . modern au . brief mention of weed . whole lot of tension ⭒ word count ᵎ 〜 3.6k ⭒ notes ᵎ 〜 will have smut eventually. im still not entirely happy with this but i promised this chapter and im already late enough! will be working on chapter two as soon as i can!

It was a year of sunset-glazed rooftop gardens and broken air conditioning units — July of 2039. These warmer months brought along flowers and harvest, but they also dragged pollen and mosquitoes with them. No one’s ever grateful for the winter cold until allergies kick in, and the summer heat is never welcomed until you’re held up in the frozen snow, shivering violently in a downpour of ice. You were standing over a flashy Mazda MX-5, working to swap the engine with that of a Supra’s 2JZ. Chapped flecks of white paint were peeling onto your jeans, and you briefly wondered if car wrap services should be your next side hustle. The harsh smell of the garage was something you weren’t sure you’d ever grow accustomed to. It was greasy floors, flickering fluorescent lighting that threatened to fall from the sky at any minute, the tinge of burnt rubber. There wasn’t anyone left there with you, not at this time of night. They had all cleared out long ago, but you were never the type to discard a project you had already started. Especially when you knew you could finish it if you just gave it another hour.

You hear it before you see it, the sharp rattle of a ruined car sliding into your garage like it owned the entire world. Right then, only one of two things could occur: 1. the sun explodes in a bright white blasting fury across the entire earth and boils you dead, or 2. you’re forced to stay a whole lot later than you initially planned for. You’ve placed your bet on option two. A matte black Nissan 240SX, complete with a faded red stripe that wrapped around the midsection. It was full of makeshift repairs– duct tape holding up the front bumper, scrapes covered by black sharpie. The kind of thing you’d see on a first-time driver’s car. While you weren’t too well-versed in the street racing underworld, it certainly doesn’t take an idiot to see that this car has been in a race (or twenty). The left side sank down heavy to the floor, surely the cause of that incessant rattle and a definite sign of a shot suspension. You squinted into the deeply tinted windshield, searching for any sign of life beneath glass. You tried to imagine who could be driving such a thing: a tall, skinny man, dark brown hair that is just beginning to gray at the edges, ratty unkempt beard framing his chiseled jawline.

That’s not who comes out.

Instead, it’s her. Stained wife beater, jeans one size too big, converse that are falling apart at the seams, and sun-touched auburn hair cut back into a harsh mullet that framed the freckles dotting across her face.

“Hey,” she said, as if this was normal. As if she was always rolling up to random mechanics with her car sounding like judgement day had come.

You should’ve told her to leave. Should’ve said you were closed and to come back tomorrow. But something about the look in her eyes caught your attention, made you feel like you were the last chance she had. So, you scoffed right back. “Hey?”

“You fix cars or just stand there looking confused?” Her voice was deep and tired, but weirdly sharp. Everything about her screamed trouble. 

“Right now?” You glanced down at your watch. The neon green letters flashed tauntingly back at you: 11:27pm. Yeah, option two was looking real possible right now.

The girl merely shrugged, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her sagging jeans. “If not, I’ll find someone else.”

As much as you hated to admit it, her words lit a flicker of irritation in your chest. It felt like a challenge. Like she was saying you couldn’t do it. “I didn’t say no.”

The corner of her mouth twisted up into a smirk– quick, you couldn’t help but think that she didn't mean for you to catch it. “Didn’t sound like much of a yes either.”

You tossed the oily rag you kept in your waistband up onto the workbench, wiping your palms against your thighs one last time for good measure. “Depends how bad you screwed it up. Looks like you drive this thing like you hate it.”

“I get that a lot,” she said, not even blinking. “But it still runs. That’s gotta count for a little bit of brownie points, right?”

“We’ll see.” You shook your head, stepping around her to reach the wreck she called a car. You stole a glance into the open passenger side window as you sauntered around. The dash was cracked, the glove box hanging by hopes and dreams. You took note of the roll cage, the lack of backseats, the rather bare interior. Definitely a racer. A faded out sticker on the rearview mirror caught your eye: if you can read this, i’m already gone.

Outside, tires screeched and a woman screamed. Just background noise in this part of the city. The overhead lights buzzed like angry mosquitoes and you flicked on the beaten radio to drown out the uncomfortable background noise. Static, then a guitar riff, then the sound of a man’s voice. 

Well, come and get it now–

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here in a dingy garage so late at night?” Her voice was pure tease now.

“Flattery’s not gonna make me work faster,” you quipped, flashing her a glare over your shoulder.

“Didn’t say I was trying to be fast,” she said, trailing after you with her hands still deep in her pockets, lazily strolling along like she all of a sudden had all the time in the world. Like she didn’t just disturb your entire night.

You grinned, looking back over your shoulder again with a mischievous glint now dancing in your eyes. “Good. ‘Cause judging by your suspension, you’re not great at going fast anyway.”

She chuckled, low and rough and warm all at once. “Touché.”

You circled back around to the front of the car, crouching down to the concrete floor to get a better look at the sagging frame. She leaned against the matte black hood, arms crossed, watching you with a heat that roasted your skin. You fought to not stare at her arms. The muscle dragged you in, and some part of you longed to trace your fingers along her tattoo. 

“You never told me your name.”

“Williams. Ellie Williams.” Her tone was casual, short. It held a louche quality that hinted at depravity. You yearned to know more, but you held your tongue. “You?”

“___.”

There was something electric hanging in the air now, humming under the harsh buzz of the fluorescent garage lights. You wiped your hands on your jeans again, more to keep busy now than anything else.

“Suspension’s fucked,” you said finally, tapping the left side of the hood. “I’d bet you bottomed out hard. Frame’s probably cracked too… if you were lucky enough to hit a curb instead of some other racer.”

Ellie gave a low whistle. “Bottomed out hard, huh?” she repeated, pushing off her car slow and easy until she was standing just a little too close. Close enough that you could smell the vague scent of gasoline and something sharp-sweet on her. Leather, maybe, and smoke. “I’ve heard that before.”

A blush passed over your cheeks and your heart threatened to sink down into your stomach. You breathed hard, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

She lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused at your fidgeting. You let the blush take over as you popped the hood, the overbearing smell of hot oil engulfing your senses almost immediately. Ellie moved to be at your side, her shoulders brushing yours as she leaned in for a look.

“Something wrong there too?” she asked.

“You sure you wanna know?” you were the one teasing now, giving her a sideways glance.

Ellie shrugged, accompanied with a lazy tilt of her head. “Already here. Might as well hear all the bad news.”

You rattled off a condensed list. Bent control arm, possible steering rack damage, probable oil leak. She just nodded along like you were reciting a grocery list and she was your incompetent husband.

“No big deal,” she sighed, her breathing ragged and uneven. “How long will it take to fix?”

You stared at her, struggling to hide the dumbfounded look plastered across your face. “You’re either incredibly rich or incredibly stupid.”

She smirked. “Why not both?”

That pulled a breathy laugh out of you before you could stop it. A real one, not the hollow kind you gave old men trying to sweet-talk their way into a discount.

“Give me an hour to tear it down,” you said, stepping back and wiping the sweat that had accumulated on your brow. “See if it’s worth saving, then another to fix it.”

Ellie nodded, but it didn’t seem like she was really listening all too well. She leaned her hip against the workbench, freckled arms crossed over her grimy shirt, staring at you like you were the main event and it wasn’t at all a possibility that she could lose her car.

“You’re not gonna hover the whole time, are you?” you coughed, fake annoyance dripping from your teeth.

“Maybe,” She grinned fully this time. Lazy, cocky, dangerous even. “Unless you can’t handle a little pressure.”

You snorted under your breath and ducked your head back into the engine bay, hiding the stupid smile that was threatening to spread across your face.

“Trust me,” you muttered, “you’re not that scary.”

Ellie leaned down to meet you under the propped-up hood, hovering her lips just beside your ear. The feeling of her breath careening down your neck made you shiver.

“You haven’t seen me drive.”

The next two hours passed in a blur of wrenches, grease stains, and the sharp intensity of Ellie’s gaze burning into the back of your neck. She didn’t hover, not exactly, she lingered. She rarely spoke, just leaned against the bench or paced slow circles around the garage, an unlit joint dangling from her lips. Every time you turned to grab a tool, there she was, tossing it to you without a second thought. Each time your fingers would brush she’d smile like she had just won a point, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

At some point, you stopped pretending not to notice.

You slammed the hood closed, a lot harder than necessary, and tried to shake the uncomfortable heat prickling on the back of your neck.

“You’re good to go,” you said, tossing a rag onto the bench beside Ellie. “Mostly.”

Ellie shoved off the wall, sauntering over to you until she was all in your space again. Not that you moved away. “Mostly,” she repeated, that familiar grin spreading across her face. “That your professional opinion?”

“Professional opinions are extra,” you grinned back, taunting.

She chuckled low under her breath, eyes flickering over you in a way that made your entire body tense up. Slow, less like she was sizing you up and more like she wanted to memorize your every curve.

“Good thing I’m a generous tipper,” she said, her voice dipping a little lower.

“Treat it like glass,” you said, tugging at your shirt collar uncomfortably. “Or you’ll be back in a week and it’ll be a whole hell of a lot worse.”

“Good,” her eyes were suddenly serious, a dark look crossing her face in a way that made your pants almost fall clean off your hips. “Was planning on coming back anyway.”

You raised a brow. “Yeah? What else you need?”

She shrugged, a casual but deliberate movement. You could tell she was trying to seem cool. It was kind of cute. “A mechanic.”

“...You offering me a job?”

“Depends,” she spoke carefully, stepping in closer. The air between you crackled with electricity. “You any good at fixing more than busted suspensions?”

Before you could answer she had stepped back, grabbing a pen off of your bench and taking your hand in hers. Her touch made you buzz and you watched intensely as she messily scribbled her number onto your palm in dry black ink. She dotted the “i” in her name with a heart.

“Think about it,” she said, tossing her keys up and catching them one-handed, the metallic clink ringing out in the otherwise quiet garage. “Might be the best bad decision you ever make.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The air was thick with the smell of exhaust, burnt rubber, and pure, unabashed adrenaline. Neon lights glared off of chrome-polished fenders as nearly over a dozen cars lined the abandoned shipping yard, idling like predators waiting for prey. Engines revved and music blared from someone’s speakers. Half the crowd buzzed with pre-race excitement, the other half just buzzed.

Pulling your hoodie tighter around your face, you stepped into the crowd. You had left your own car further away like Ellie had instructed you. It was much less impressive among the racers’, a plush blue Volvo 240 Turbo. Understated, beat down to hell, but modded up to god and back. You grabbed the metal toolbox out of your passenger side, the cold handle grounding you in a way that felt anything but solid.

You had never attended a street race before. You’ve heard of them, sure, even modded a few cars for some, but never actually been to one. You didn’t dress for it, didn’t plan for it, just showed up. Ellie had texted you the location, didn’t say anything else about it– not that you asked.

A familiar rumble cut your thoughts short. It was a low, unapologetic grumble that definitely turned heads in the crowd. It seemed Ellie had a reputation. You turned just in time to see her car slide beside you, the engine purring a whole lot smoother than the last time you heard it. Your handiwork, still holding strong. Somehow.

Ellie stepped out like she owned the place, something you were starting to realize was a normal behaviour for her. She was donned in the same stained jeans as before, this time with a couple new oil smudges. A bright red cropped leather jacket was covering up her old stained wife beater, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her forearm muscles and faded tattoo. You watched closely as her eyes scanned the crowd before locking onto you. Something gleamed in her eyes. Relief, maybe. Moreso amusement.

“You showed up,” she said, strolling over with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets with a feigned air of no fucks given.

You shrugged lazily, trying not to smile. Trying not to give her that satisfaction. “You said you needed a mechanic.”

Ellie nodded slowly, lower lip twitching like she was fighting not to speak her mind. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Yeah, well,” you responded, setting your toolbox down beside her front tire, “I guess I make a lot of bad decisions.”

She grinned, wide and reckless, a strand of her auburn hair falling in front of her eyes. “Perfect,” she drawled, “You’ll fit right in.”

Suddenly, the crowd fell silent, the music that thumped from someone’s trunk was shut off, and an air of competitiveness fogged your senses. Ellie leaned across the hood of her car, eyes glazed over with excitement and a hint of menace. “Flags drop in ten. You might want to hurry it up, little miss mechanic.”

You weren’t entirely sure what flags down meant, but you were sure that it wasn’t time to ask questions. You dropped to your knees, kneeling beside the front wheel. Your fingers brushed the brake rotor.

“These things are whispering their last words,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

Ellie pulled a toothpick out of her pocket and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly. You couldn’t help but think how she looked like a llama. “Then tell ‘em to scream louder.”

You shot her a look over your shoulder. “I have a feeling you’re about to be a nightmare to keep alive.”

She only grinned in response. That signature, stupidly charming Ellie grin. She continued to stare at you with an infuriatingly calm gaze as you popped the hood one last time, eyes scanning the turbo lines. Then, you wiped your hands clean on a rag you had tucked into your belt.

“Fluids topped, pressure’s solid, clutch might hate you by the end of it.” You slammed the hood shut with a smirk. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”

Ellie stepped towards you, still grinning wildly. “You always this sexy before a race?”

You raised a brow, feigning vexation. “You want sexy, go find someone that doesn’t know what a brake pad is.”

Her grin turned crooked, it somehow made her even more attractive. “Aw man, but none of them look half as good leaning over an engine.”

Before you even got a chance to fire back someone was yelling from across the lot. “Engine’s hot! You’ve got thirty seconds to line up, and don’t come crying to me when you get smoked!”

She turned to her car, toothpick now discarded on the asphalt, hands already gripping the door handle. “Next time, you ride with me.”

Then she was gone. You watched as she slid up to the starting line, your eyes transfixed on the smoke that pooled out underneath her car and evaporated into the air. The crowd was screaming now, voltaic above the war cries of the engines. The spotters hunched over the overpass began to shift. Your heartbeat reverberated off your eardrums and threatened to hop out of your chest entirely. You blinked, and they were gone. Ellie disappeared around a bend with her tail lights flickering like a cigarette in the dark. You’d never seen anyone drive like that before. All you could think to do was hold your breath.

At first, it was just one siren. Just one, thin and far off. The crowd shifts, anxiety rippling through the crowd and boiling the water around you.

Then the world exploded in red and blue. People screamed around you, but for an entirely different reason now. There’s movement all around you, folding chairs falling and people scrambling to climb chain link fences. You turn to run, but there’s nowhere to go. For a moment, you felt the sickening feeling of being trapped.

Then you hear it– tires drifting in the gravel. A black shape was barreling out of the smoke, angled right toward you. Before you could even think to move there was a passenger door flying open and a familiar face staring you down.

“In. Now.”

You didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Just dived in, half-falling into the passenger seat as the air behind you is completely swallowed by flashing lights.

Ellie was white-knuckled around the steering wheel as you shot forward and sliced through the night.

“You came back,” you say, breath coming out uneven and shaky.

City lights blurred past as the two of you skidded between two factory buildings, into an alley that was much too narrow for your comfort. The engine roared as she switched from third to fourth to third again, riding the clutch like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Behind you, someone’s bumper crunches into a brick wall.

“Couldn’t leave you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together as she tried to focus, eyes scanning for any possible exit. Any way to get you back to safety. Ellie was burning with recklessness now, she was in her element. You’re completely entranced as she maneuvers the car with such finesse that it almost scares you. Almost. She curses and yanks at the wheel, sending you slamming into the door and ricocheting off your seat. Ellie glances over at you, partly apologetically and mostly with arrogance. The emergency brake is dropped and the car is sent drifting between two green dumpsters. You clutch the handle above your head to avoid being sent tumbling around the car again.

Ellie shuts the car off with a harsh click and you finally let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. She drops her seat down, with you following suit in the movement. Smoke was pouring out of the hood now, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought of you needing to do more repairs so soon.

It’s silent for a while, the two of you intently listening to the sound of the sirens disappearing into the city. Until, finally, Ellie’s voice tears through the tension.

“You shouldn’t go back to your car until tomorrow. Place’ll still be crawling with pigs.” She didn’t look at you when she said it, eyes still focused on the ceiling of her car. “You can crash at mine.”

You glance at her, blinking rapidly. Crash? At hers? You thought back to when you had first met Ellie in your garage. Back when you wouldn’t have ever expected to be running from police with a girl who looked like hell had sent her back.

“If you want,” she says after you’re quiet for too long, shyer this time.

You nod in response, still not trusting your voice to not break at the first syllable. The corner of her mouth twitches, not quite a smile, but on the edge of one. Neither of you speak as the engine hums to life and you peel out of the alley.

You can’t help but feel like you just crossed a line you won’t be able to uncross.

⭒ taglist ᵎ 〜 @mayanneaa

[mayanneaa]

deception masterlist !

ellie williams x fem!reader

“ There's a fire starting in my heart

Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

Finally, I can see you crystal clear

Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your shit bare

See how I'll leave with every piece of you

Don't underestimate the things that I will do ”

- Rolling in the deep, Adele

main masterlist

summary: There was just one rule in your marriage: no lies. Funnily enough, it was already broken by the time you met Ellie Williams, your wife and sworn nemesis.

content general warning: based on the movie Mr. & Mrs. Smith. reader's appearance will not be described. canon typical violence— will add as i go.

total word count: 0k

comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

all images used are from pinterest, and with visual purposes only.

prologue (coming soon!)

chapter i. meet the williams

chapter ii. family matters

...

[mayanneaa]

so true omg

getting tumblr asks is like receiving a letter in the mail to me. you understand.

[mayanneaa]

OMGGG ive got something in my eye it stings so bad someone help me take it out

[mayanneaa]

omg i got the fenty beauty gloss bomb stix its so pretty and smells DELICIOUS yall i swear

[mayanneaa]

okay.

i’m cooking up an ellie williams x reader angst (with happy ending tho)

the bad (or good?) news is that it is going to be LONG.

[mayanneaa]

damn im rereading my works from here and why are they kinda fire…. like..

[mayanneaa]

grammys are soooo rigged bc WDYM billie didn’t win!!!! and she lost to BEYONCE????

[mayanneaa]

I hope you are well, sorry if there are any errors (English is not my native language), I love your stories, I would like you to write one of anguish, sadness, as sad as you can, about Rafe. I would appreciate it very much

hii thank you for requesting!!! it's pretty short and maybe not THAT sad and angsty but i hope you like it hehe i need more angsty ideas idk i'm just too happy atm for this lmaooo

always and (not) forever.

[mayanneaa]

always and (not) forever - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY : rafe breaks up with you right after you get accepted to stanford university.

WARNING(S) : angst, swearing, not really proofread

A/N : can you tell i just watched to all the boys: always and forever? (divider by @roseraris )

WC : 0.7k

masterlist.

Your heart’s pounding more and more as you click on the email you just got.

It’s late at night, only the crickets outside accompanying your growing emancipation. You squeeze the hem of your pajama shirt, biting your lip almost to blood.

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for forever— the week of acceptance letters from Stanford.

You can’t really remember when exactly you decided that a university across the whole country was good for you. It just… happened.

Your boyfriend, Rafe, wasn’t particularly excited for you to study so far away since he wanted to go to the one in-state. You managed to convince him that you’ll be well.

The email is long, but after the first words, you don’t even bother reading more. You got in.

A scream escapes your lips, quickly muffled by your hands. You sit there wide-eyed, the faint light of your laptop’s screen falling on your face.

“Oh my God.”

You immediately grab your phone, trembling fingers dialing Rafe’s number. He answers faster than the first ding.

“What’s up, baby?” His voice’s a little raspy and low as if he was falling asleep.

“I got into Stanford,” you whisper, the words feeling unreal once they leave your mouth. “Can you believe it, Rafe?”

He doesn’t say a single word before he lets out a faint hum. “That’s… great. I mean, you’re happy, right?”

“Yeah, of course!”

There’s a silence— a moment where you can let your emotions cool off a bit, followed by Rafe clearing his throat.

“Actually… Can we meet?”

You knit your eyebrows. His voice is steady but distant. Something you haven’t heard in a while. “Like, right now?”

Rafe hums in response, and you feel the confusion bubbling up. “Well, if you want to you can come over, but be quiet. My parents are asleep.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

You hang up the phone, your hand lingering as you glance at the laptop screen.

Was Rafe overthinking this whole ‘distance’ thing once again?

You’ve already told him a million times that it will work out. So why the sudden change of mind?

You slip your feet into your slippers and grab a hoodie you throw on on the stairs.

The light from Rafe’s motorcycle flashes through the windows, a quiet buzz filling the natural silence. You quickly open the door and get outside, a chilly breeze hitting your bare legs.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, crossing your arms on your chest.

Rafe takes off his helmet and looks at the ground. “I think we should break up before you go to Stanford.”

You grimace, scrunching your nose. “What are you talking about? Rafe, we’ve been through this. I know it’s hard to be this long distance, but we can do it—”

“No.” The word comes out of his mouth so quickly, you gasp under your breath. “Honestly, how do you see that? Going from what we are now, from me getting to your door in five fucking minutes to seeing each other once God knows how much time?”

“But… you agreed to that earlier…”

“I was wrong,” Rafe says as quietly as a whisper, his voice cracking. “I’m not going to watch it all fall apart in two, four, or even six months. It’s better if we just end it now.”

You squeeze your arms and clench your jaw so tight it almost hurts.

How dare he just stand there, not even looking at you, as your life seems to split in two?

“Don’t say that, Rafe. You don’t mean it…” You say, your voice is small, but you know better than this. Rafe doesn’t just say things.

“I do.”

Two words. Those two words were enough to let the tears pushing onto your eyelids fall.

“Are you serious? After all we’ve been through, you leave me because of some stupid belief that we will not make it?” You sigh, anger spilling out with each breath you take.

“Go, Rafe. I don’t want to see your face.”

He inhales sharply as if you just slapped him. Maybe you should’ve done that. Instead, you turn on your heels and storm into the house, not giving Rafe another glance.

All you hear is the engine running, and the quiet sound of your heart breaking.

taglist :

@amterasuu

[mayanneaa]

so sweet!!!!

JJ Maybank - Headcanon

Bf!JJMaybank x Soft!Reader

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Bf!JJMaybank who is extremely clingy, always finding a way to have his hand or his arm on you. Holding hands, arm over your shoulder, touching the small of your back. And you happily do the same, leaning in his touch, your head on his shoulder or your two arms around his.

Bf!JJMaybank who doesn't drink or smoke near you since he knows how much you hate the smell of both of those things. He tried to stop for you but he can't bring himself to.

Bf!JJMaybank who comes knocking at your window late at night because he doesn't want to sleep alone, or who seeks comfort after his dad gets mad once more and you just lay him down in your bed to take care of his wounds while peppering kisses all over his face. He pretends to hate it, acting like a tough guy, but truly he loves it when you do that.

Bf!JJMaybank who spends the only money he has on you, either by buying you things you love or buying stuff to create you gifts. He absolutely loves spoiling you and everytime the group goes out, he will grab something for you. At the beach ? Shellfish. In a forest? Flowers. He will always find something for you.

Bf!JJMaybank who confessed first, because he was drunk and got more flirty than usual. At first you thought he wasn't thinking right, so you just made sure he was going to bed, putting a pill and a glass of water on his nightstand. You only realized it was true when you heard his conversation with John B the next day, JJ saying he was an idiot for confessing while drunk.

Bf!JJMaybank who always compliments Soft!Reader. How couldn't he when he got the prettiest girl on the island ? Every single part of your body got compliments from JJ, often silly ones.

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[mayanneaa]

AHH, I just had an experience that Imma need your pretty beautiful talented ass to draw from! There was a shooting where I live and police came knocking on doors asking if anyone had heard or seen anything. I opened the door to a young hot ass police officer. Ahh he was built just like Drew (if only it was him) I think we were both a bit shook that the other one was same age and good looking (I'm all right) Maybe a request with au police!Rafe and an awkward Reader with that kind of scenario but maybe Rafe finds some way to ask her out, there at the door or some other way

AHAHAH girl omg, if only this would happen to me😔😔😔

the sound of firm knocking echoed through the quiet house, pulling you from your thoughts. you weren’t expecting anyone, especially not this late, and the events of the evening had already put you on edge. there’d been a shooting just a few streets over, and the neighborhood was abuzz with tension.

you padded to the door, hesitating for a moment before unlocking it and pulling it open.

standing on your porch, backlit by the flashing red and blue of a police cruiser parked at the curb, was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a pressed uniform. his face was sharp and symmetrical, his jawline strong enough to cut glass. but his expression wasn’t harsh—if anything, he looked as taken aback as you felt.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. his eyes—a piercing, almost startling shade of blue—met yours, and the air between you felt charged, though you couldn’t explain why.

“uh…” he finally broke the silence, clearing his throat as his hand rose to adjust his belt in what seemed like an unconscious gesture. “i’m officer rafe cameron, and... i’m here about the shooting.”

“oh!” you blurted, snapping out of your trance. “yeah. okay!”

his lips twitched into a small, apologetic smile. “sorry to bother you so late. i just need to check in, make sure everything’s alright. did you see or hear anything?”

you shook your head, feeling oddly flustered under his gaze. “no, just the gunshots… they were pretty loud, though.”

“yeah, they were,” he said, leaning slightly against the doorframe, his stance casual but still commanding. “you here alone?”

you raised a brow, folding your arms. “why? thinking of robbing me?”

his grin spread slowly, boyishly lopsided. “not tonight, no. besides, not my style.”

despite yourself, you smiled back. “good to know.”

he tilted his head, his gaze scanning you briefly before locking back onto your eyes. “seriously, though, we’re just trying to make sure everyone’s safe. if you need anything—anything at all—you can call me.” he reached into his pocket and produced a card, holding it out to you between two fingers.

you took it, brushing his hand accidentally in the process. his skin was warm, rough in that way that made your stomach do a little flip.

“thanks,” you murmured, glancing down at the card. his name was printed neatly along with a direct number. “i’ll keep it in mind.”

“please do.” his tone was low, and the way he said it felt… significant. “so, you’re sure you’re okay? no… lingering fears? nightmares?” his smirk was teasing now.

“i’ll manage,” you said lightly, leaning against the doorframe now yourself. “unless you think i need around-the-clock protection.”

his brows rose, and his grin turned wickedly playful. “depends. you asking?”

you felt a laugh bubble out of you, shaking your head. “goodnight, officer cameron.”

“goodnight,” he said smoothly, stepping back but lingering for a second longer than necessary. “you stay safe now, alright?”

with a nod, you closed the door, leaning your back against it as you exhaled. your heart was racing, and you couldn’t decide if it was from the earlier fear—or the way he had looked at you.

outside, rafe adjusted his jacket, his own heart pounding harder than it had any right to. he made a mental note to check in on this house again tomorrow, just to be sure everything was still fine. after all, it was his job to protect and serve, wasn’t it?

smirking to himself, he headed back to his cruiser.

this wasn’t exactly the worst assignment he’d ever been given.

MASTERLIST

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @honeyluvsatj ⟢ @zazidot ⟢ @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ⟢ @lunaleah ⟢ @maybanksangel ⟢ @wtfdudesblog. ⟢ @niktwazny303. ⟢ @outerbanksloverp4l ⟢ @slut4you ⟢ @hstbsl06 ⟢@percysley ⟢ @yesshewrites1 ⟢ @goldenvespa ⟢ @magicalyoura1 ⟢ @mattyskies ⟢ @flow33didontsmoke ⟢ @rafeyy ⟢ @angelicameron ⟢ @alexxavicry ⟢ @mayanneaa ⟢ @yncoded ⟢ @athenalovesgoodies

[mayanneaa]

gossip girl - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x reader

SUMMARY : you train jj to be a proper gossiper.

WARNING(S) : established relationship!! slight swearing but it's pure fluff!, not proofread

A/N : xoxo. my tummy hurts so fucking bad. also this one's ending might be a little shitty forgive me pls (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 1k

masterlist.

“JJ!” You exclaim, skipping through the Chateau, looking for your boyfriend. The air is sticky, filled with the smell of wood, salt, and beer.

You make your way through the living room and spot your boyfriend in the back, lying on one of the hammocks.

He covers his face with his arm, slowly swinging.

“Jay, you have to hear this!”

JJ sits up the second he hears your voice, his eyes almost shut. “Hi, baby.”

He extends his arms, and you quickly hug him, leaving a peck on his lips.

“Okay, so you better hold on to this hammock, because—”

“Woah, woah. Wait,” he says, rubbing his eyes and moving in the hammock, trying to give you some space. “What’s going on?”

You grit your teeth while sitting on the edge of the worn-out material, not being able to keep this to yourself any longer. “Ugh, remember when I told you my mom asked me to go help the Jones? They just moved back here but without Ben.”

JJ furrows his brows, “Ben? The father…?”

You nod, “Yes! Well, their daughter is our age, and, by the way, she’s super sweet! Maybe I should invite her over here—”

“You’re drifting off the topic, baby.” JJ reminds you, now fully awake and interested in your story.

“Yeah, right. When I got there, she seemed kinda sad and annoyed, so as the good person that I am, I asked her what was wrong, and she spilled the whole tea! Everything!” You ramble, animating with your arms, and JJ watches your every move with a slight smile, clearly amused.

“She said her father cheated on Ms. Jones with a girl who’s barely 20! Do you understand that?!”

JJ giggles under his breath, lying back down. “Yeah. That’s so fucking messed up…”

“Right?” you say before you take a deep breath, “She mentioned that that side chick used to live here and that we might know her, but i have no idea who could that be.”

“Damn, you gossip like an old lady.” Your boyfriend says, pulling you to his chest. You gasp, dramatically placing your hand on your heart.

“I will find out. I mean, who cheats on such a beautiful woman like Ms. Jones? Especially this… this Ben? He looks like he sneaked onto the Earth—”

“Woah, woah, chill!”

You sit on the couch in your living room, sipping the juice from the recipe you just tried out and trying to get through a book when you get a notification.

With a sigh, you reach for your phone to read the message you got from JJ. He’s supposed to pick up his hoodie, which he left there last week.

A few minutes later the comfortable silence gets broken with the loud ring of the bell.

JJ doesn’t even hesitate, he just comes in without a second thought. You take a look at his face and can immediately tell he’s not in the best mood. He immediately comes up to you.

“Hi,” you say as he leans in to kiss the top of your head. “What’s up?”

He grunts, “I had to go and fix the AC at the Jones house. They were talking so fucking loud my head feels like exploding—”

You let out a gasp, and your eyes glisten. “At the Jones? What were they talking about?”

JJ squints his eyes, “Uhh I don’t know? I stopped paying attention after some man joined in.”

You look at him, disappointment mixed with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah, they were arguing so I just did my thing and left.”

You groan. “You are kidding me. JJ, you could’ve heard something about the drama!”

He widens his eyes, a sheepish smile crawling onto his lips. “Ohhh, right… I’m sorry, baby.”

Your lips form into a pout, and JJ raises his eyebrows. “Nuh-uh, don’t pout at me for this. I’m not a gossiper, you know that.”

“Well, I know, I know…”

“But I promise I’ll tell you anything I hear.”

You sigh and hug him, breathing in his scent. “You better.”

You don’t even know when did you drift off to sleep, sitting on the back porch at the Chateau. The soft breeze and whistles of wind put you to sleep like a lullaby.

The front doors close with a loud crack, announcing that JJ has returned from the shop. You and the Pogues were supposed to have dinner tonight, and your boyfriend had to go and buy all the missing ingredients.

“Baby, you won’t believe it!”

You slowly open your eyes, eyelids fluttering from the orange sunset sky. You hum, and JJ runs outside, the grocery bag still in his hand.

“Did you get everything?” You ask, stretching your arms with a yawn.

“Yeah, I think so, anyway…” He speaks so fast you have to gain your consciousness quickly in order to understand what he’s saying. “Guess who I met at the store!”

You squint, trying to come up with a name in your mind, still fogged up with sleep. “Rafe?”

JJ shakes his head and you click your tongue.

“Topper?”

“No!” he gets a bit frustrated, a sight that makes you laugh. “What was a thing you were super invested in?”

Your eyes widen. “The Jones?”

JJ’s grin grows even wider. “Yes! Oh my God, would you believe that the man I saw is actually Ms. Jones’ new boyfriend? And that’s not the best part. He’s Ben’s cousin who’s much more successful too! This man owns four different restaurants and has three houses in Asia, Europe, and South America. He’s crazy rich!”

You gasp. “Wow. You really clocked all of this, didn’t you?”

He looks at you, a proud look on his face. “Duh. It was so much fun!”

JJ starts to tell you the story about how he had to follow them in different isles to hear everything and in the meantime, you check the grocery bag.

“…Then they moved to the dairy fridges, so naturally I went after them and—”

“JJ.”

“Huh?”

“You forgot half of the products...”

[mayanneaa]

i just started playing an elmwood trail yall its SO SO GOOD

[mayanneaa]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ waiting on you

xPOGUE!FEM!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request ⟢ you and rafe have a date, but when he doesn't show up, you decide to leave

WORD COUNT: +2.k

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: /

rafe wasn’t sure what had changed in him. maybe it was the endless longing looks he’d cast across the beach, the rare glimpses of you tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, or the soft way you always greeted people with a smile, even when they didn’t deserve it. whatever it was, his ingrained disdain for pogues had crumbled like a weak sandcastle against a rising tide.

but you were different.

for months, he’d watched from afar, debating whether he had the courage to approach you. and when he finally did, fumbling over his words like an idiot, you’d agreed to dinner without hesitation, flashing that sweet smile that made his heart stumble in his chest.

so ‘why’, rafe thought bitterly as he stared at his totaled car. did life seem determined to ruin everything?

you sat in the dimly lit corner of the restaurant, your once-bright smile fading with every passing minute. the flickering candlelight reflected your unease as you glanced at the time on your phone for the hundredth time.

you had debated even going to the restaurant in the first place.

as you stood in front of the mirror earlier that evening, nervously smoothing the fabric of your dress, kie’s voice echoed in your mind.

“are you sure about this? it’s rafe cameron, of all people. he’s a kook, and not just any kook—he’s, like, the kook. you don’t think this is some kind of game to him?”

cleo had chimed in, her tone skeptical. “girl, i don’t trust him as far as i could throw him. guys like rafe don’t change, no matter how pretty they smile.”

you’d waved them off, laughing nervously. “i know, i know. but he seemed… different. he was so shy when he asked me out. i think he really meant it.”

kiara had shared a pointed look with cleo. “just… be careful, okay?”

now, as you sat at the small table near the window of the restaurant, watching the candle on the table flicker, their words played on repeat in your mind. you’d arrived ten minutes early, too nervous to be late. but now, rafe was ten minutes late.

you told yourself not to panic. maybe he was stuck in traffic. maybe he’d lost track of time. he’d show up.

right?

you checked your phone again, scrolling back through the single text he’d sent earlier in the day: “can’t wait to see you tonight. :)”

you stared at the smiley face until it blurred, second-guessing everything. was it genuine, or was it mocking? was this all a setup?

a waiter passed by, glancing at your empty table. “can i get you something while you wait?”

you smiled weakly. “just water, please.”

another twenty minutes passed, and your heart sank lower with each tick of the clock. the couple at the next table kept stealing glances your way, whispering. you felt their pity like a heavy weight on your shoulders.

you glanced at the time again. forty-five minutes late.

the lump in your throat grew as you looked down at your hands, neatly folded in your lap. you’d spent so much time getting ready—choosing the perfect dress, applying your makeup carefully, even borrowing a pair of heels from kiara because you wanted to look just right. for him.

but now, sitting alone, you couldn’t help but feel foolish.

rafe was late.

almost an hour late.

the words you’d tried to push away resurfaced:

“guys like rafe don’t change.”

your phone buzzed suddenly, and hope flared for a split second, only to be crushed when you saw it was a text from cleo: “how’s it going? he show up yet?”

you stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. finally, you typed back, “no. still waiting.”

her reply came almost instantly: “you deserve better, babe. leave his ass.”

you bit your lip, blinking back tears. maybe she was right. maybe this had all been some sick joke.

you grabbed your bag, your stomach twisting as you stood. the waiter glanced over as you waved him down. “i think i’m just going to head out,” you said quietly, your voice trembling.

as you stepped out into the cool night air, a single tear slipped down your cheek. you wiped it away quickly, furious with yourself for letting it get to you.

by the time you got home, you’d convinced yourself of one thing: you should never have trusted rafe cameron.

back at home, you kicked off your heels the moment you stepped through the door. the sting of disappointment still sat heavy in your chest, and the first thing you did was strip out of the carefully chosen dress and toss it onto your bed.

the mirror caught your reflection as you pulled your makeup wipes from the counter. you looked tired, the streaks of mascara and the smudged lipstick serving as a cruel reminder of how much effort you’d put into tonight—for nothing.

you sighed, muttering under your breath as you scrubbed at your face, “should’ve listened to kie and cleo. God, i’m so stupid.”

once your face was bare, you slipped into your favorite oversized sweatshirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. the cozy clothes were a stark contrast to the effort you’d put into dressing up, and yet you felt oddly comforted by the familiarity.

the pang of humiliation hadn’t dulled, though. you grabbed your phone, scrolling aimlessly for a moment before finding cleo’s number.

it barely rang once before she picked up. “girl, tell me you left.”

you sank into the couch, cradling the phone to your ear. “i left.” your voice cracked despite yourself.

there was a pause before Cleo spoke again, her tone softer. “oh, babe. i’m sorry. you don’t deserve that.”

tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them away. “i just… i don’t know what i was thinking. i sat there like an idiot, waiting for almost an hour. everyone was staring at me, cleo. it was humiliating.”

“first of all,” cleo said firmly, “you’re not an idiot. he’s the idiot. secondly, you deserve so much better. kie and i said it before—rafe cameron is a walking red flag. i mean, the guy’s got more baggage than a damn airport.”

despite your mood, a soft laugh escaped you. “i know. i just… i thought he was different this time, you know? he seemed so genuine when he asked me out.”

cleo’s voice softened again. “sweetheart, you’re the nicest person i know. it’s not your fault you wanted to see the best in him. but now you know. lesson learned.”

you nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “yeah.”

the ache in your chest flared again, and you sighed, pulling your knees to your chest. “i feel so stupid. i should’ve never gone.”

“you’re not stupid,” cleo said firmly. “you’re brave. most people wouldn’t have even given him a chance. and hey, at least you looked amazing. his loss, not yours.”

before you could respond, a sharp knock at the door startled you.

you frowned, glancing toward the front of your house. “who…?”

“who’s knocking at this hour?” cleo asked, her voice cautious.

“no idea,” you murmured, standing up. “hold on, i’ll check.”

yout heart thudded in your chest as you crossed the room, your phone still clutched in one hand. peeking through the peephole, your stomach dropped.

rafe.

he stood there, looking like an absolute mess. his clothes were rumpled, there was a scratch on his cheek, and he was clutching his motorcycle helmet in one hand. his expression was riddled with something you couldn’t quite place—was it guilt? desperation?

“is it him?” cleo’s voice came through the phone.

you swallowed hard, hesitating.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“don’t let him in,” she said immediately. “i swear, if he tries to sweet-talk you—”

but you’d already unlocked the door.

as it creaked open, rafe’s head snapped up, his blue eyes meeting yours. he looked… wrecked.

“hey,” he said softly, his voice rasping.

you just stared at him, unsure whether you were angry, confused, or on the verge of tears again.

“what are you doing here, Rafe?”

“i—i screwed up,” he stammered, his words tumbling out. “can i—can i please explain?”

you kept the door open just a crack, leaning against the frame, your phone still pressed to your ear. cleo’s voice came through, sharp and protective.

“is he still there?”

you glanced at rafe, who shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his messy hair. his gaze darted to you, then down to the ground, like he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“yeah,” you murmured.

“listen to me,” cleo said firmly. “if he even tries to make some lame excuse, slam the door in his face. and text me how it goes, okay?”

you hesitated, glancing at rafe again. something about the way he stood there, looking almost… broken, softened the edge of your anger.

“okay,” you said quietly. “i’ll call you later.”

“don’t let him off easy, babe” cleo added before hanging up.

you slipped your phone into your pocket and crossed your arms, leaning against the door. “why are you here, rafe?”

he flinched at the coldness in your tone, his jaw tightening. “i—i had to come explain. please, just—can you give me a second?”

you raised an eyebrow, your skepticism clear. “explain? what’s there to explain? you stood me up.”

“no, i didn’t mean to,” he blurted out, his voice desperate. “i swear, i wanted to be there. i was on my way, but—”

“are you seriously lying right now?” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “because if this is your idea of damage control, it’s not working.”

“i’m not lying!” he said quickly, his words tumbling out so fast they almost tripped over each other. “i was driving to the restaurant, and some guy rear-ended me. out of nowhere. my car’s totaled, my phone died, and i—God, i didn’t know what to do.”

you stared at him, your anger faltering slightly at the sincerity in his voice. his hands were trembling, and he looked genuinely distraught.

“look,” he continued, taking a step closer. “i swear to you, i wanted to show up. i’d been looking forward to tonight for weeks. but after the crash, i couldn’t call anyone, and by the time i figured out a way to get here, it was too late.” he gestured vaguely to his motorcycle helmet.

“so i got my bike and came straight here.”

you studied his face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. Instead, you found something else—shame, regret, and a deep, unshakable sincerity.

“why didn’t you just go to the restaurant?” you asked quietly.

“i… i was afraid you wouldn’t be there anymore,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “and honestly, i felt like i’d already ruined everything. but i couldn’t just leave it like that. i had to see you, even if you slammed the door in my face.”

your heart twisted despite yourself. the frustration was still there, but it was tangled with something softer now—an ache you didn’t want to admit.

“so, you’re telling me you got in a car crash, lost your phone, and then scrambled to find a way to come apologize?”

he nodded earnestly. “yes. i know it sounds like some ridiculous excuse, but it’s the truth. i’m so sorry.”

you bit your lip, debating whether to believe him. every part of you wanted to cling to the anger and disappointment, to shove him out the door and lock the feelings away.

but the way he looked at you—like you were the most important person in the world—made it hard to hold on to the hurt.

“why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” you muttered.

rafe’s lips twitched into the faintest, nervous smile. “because i’m an idiot. and i was scared you wouldn’t believe me.”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “you’re right about one thing. you are an idiot.”

rafe winced but didn’t argue.

“fine,” you said finally, stepping back to let him inside. “but you’re explaining everything. and if i find out you’re lying—”

“i’m not,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “i’ll tell you everything. i swear.”

as he stepped inside, you closed the door behind him, your heart still racing. you weren’t sure where this was going, but for some reason, you weren’t ready to let him go just yet.

you crossed your arms as rafe stood awkwardly in your living room, helmet still clutched in his hand. the tension between you felt thick, but he looked so earnest, so desperate to make things right, that you found yourself willing to hear him out.

“so?” you prompted, raising an eyebrow. “start talking.”

rafe shifted his weight, glancing down before meeting your gaze again. “okay, um… so i was on my way to the restaurant,” he began, his voice low but steady. “i was already running late—i was trying to get there faster because i didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

you narrowed your eyes, not fully buying it yet. “and then what?”

“and then… some guy slammed into the back of my truck at a stoplight,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone. “it wasn’t anything major, but my truck’s bumper was a mess, and we had to pull over. the guy wanted to exchange insurance info, and i was trying to deal with all of that when i realized my phone had died.”

you watched him closely, searching for any sign that he might be making it up. but the scratch on his cheek, the way he kept fidgeting, and the genuine regret in his voice told you otherwise.

“i couldn’t call you or get a ride,” he continued, his words tumbling out now. “by the time i got everything sorted, it was too late to show up in my truck—it wouldn’t even start properly. so i went home, grabbed my bike, and came straight here. i didn’t want to leave things like that. i couldn’t.”

you stared at him, your anger softening despite your best efforts. “and why should i believe you?”

“because it’s the truth,” he said firmly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “i swear, i’d never stand you up. i’ve been wanting this date for so long, and the thought of ruining it… i hated myself for it.”

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. “i know i messed up, and i don’t blame you if you’re still mad. but i just wanted you to know that i wasn’t trying to hurt you. you mean too much to me for that.”

his words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. the sincerity in his voice, the way he was practically trembling with nerves—it was impossible to ignore.

finally, you sighed. “okay. i believe you.”

rafe’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he let out a breath like he’d been holding it the entire time. “thank you,” he murmured. “seriously. thank you.”

“but,” you added, holding up a finger, “you’re not off the hook completely. you still owe me a date.”

his face lit up, and for the first time that night, you saw the faintest hint of a smile. “i’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his voice soft but full of conviction.

“one hundred percent. no more making you come alone, no more waiting around for me—i’ll pick you up this time.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you mean that?”

“absolutely,” he said, stepping a little closer. “and, uh… i was thinking maybe i could make it extra special. like, i’ll pick you up on my bike, and we can ride out to the beach. watch the sunset. maybe grab some ice cream after?”

his words were tentative, like he was testing the waters, and you couldn’t help but feel the smallest tug at your heart.

“a motorcycle ride to the beach?” you repeated, pretending to think it over.

he nodded, his expression hopeful. “yeah. just you and me this time. I promise it’ll be perfect.”

you let the silence stretch for a moment, watching him squirm slightly. finally, you cracked a small smile. “okay. you’ve got one more chance.”

rafe’s face broke into a grin, the relief and happiness practically radiating off of him. “thank you,” he said softly. “you won’t regret it. i promise.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep, cameron,” you teased, though your voice was light.

“i won’t,” he said firmly, his eyes shining. “not this time.”

for the first time that night, you let yourself believe him.

MASTERLIST

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @honeyluvsatj ⟢ @zazidot ⟢ @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ⟢ @lunaleah ⟢ @maybanksangel ⟢ @wtfdudesblog. ⟢ @niktwazny303. ⟢ @outerbanksloverp4l ⟢ @slut4you ⟢ @hstbsl06 ⟢@percysley ⟢ @yesshewrites1 ⟢ @goldenvespa ⟢ @magicalyoura1

[mayanneaa]

stop im gonna cry😭😭😭😭 you’re one of my total favorites on here!!!!! 😭😭

sparkling - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : enemy!rafe cameron x kook!reader

SUMMARY : the country club announces a carnival ball, and your parents make you go there with the last person you’d want to be around — rafe cameron.

WARNING(S) : drinking, minor violence, swearing, not proofread

A/N : we're going full kook baby (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 4.6k (bear with me. BEAR WITH ME)

first part, "nights like this" is here!

masterlist.

You clench your teeth as you walk around the room, waiting for the dress to arrive.

To your surprise, it’s white outside the window, the soft snow covering most of your garden. You sit down on your bed with a sigh.

In two hours you’re supposed to be walking through the door of the country club, your dress flowing on the floor as you move plastered to Rafe’s side.

The last part still makes you fuming.

Obviously, it wasn’t your idea— your parents decided you’d look perfect with the oldest of the Cameron siblings. They seemed to forget that you literally despise him. And you’re pretty sure he feels the same about you.

If this ball was happening a year ago, you wouldn't mind. You'd probably be already all giddy, waiting for your prince on his white horse to come pick you up.

All because of a stupid party. Your birthday party.

It still replays in your head, as if there wasn't anything better to remember.

Rafe kissed you on the rooftop of Tanney Hill. Rafe, the guy you've been obsessed with since, well, fifth grade, kissed you to fulfill your birthday wish. Little did he know he actually fulfilled two of them that night.

But, nothing that's tied to Rafe is easy. Just as you were supposed to leave with him, you caught him with a girl all over him.

Is that enough of a reason not to be happy about being there, showing off by his side at the ball?

“Sweetie, your dress is here!”

Soon after that, your door creaks, and your mother comes in with a long dress in her hands.

It’s beautiful, that’s for sure-- silver, sparkling with tiny glitter pieces. The straps are thin, almost nonexistent.

"Isn't carnival all about being, I don't know, fun?" you say skeptically. "This is going to be so tense. Apart from the fact that I have to be there with Rafe."

Your mother glances at you, her eyes softening. "Ward asked us a long time ago, and you know how your father is about his 'promises'..."

You huff, resting your chin on your hand.

"Plus, you still didn't tell us what happened between you two that made you dislike him so much." You feel a similar sting in your heart. "And you don’t have to, just so you know.”

You give her a defeated look and get up. You trace your fingers down the fabric before you speak up. "I should probably try it on..."

Your mom gives you an excited nod. "Go on!"

She gently hands you the piece of clothing before disappearing behind the door. Do you have any other choice than to get ready? Not really.

You slip into the dress, your figure sparkling in the mirror with every minor movement. It flows over your body most beautifully— a little tighter in all the right places, but not tight enough to feel uncomfortable while sitting, eating, or dancing.

You spin around on your tiptoes, checking yourself out, and a small smile creeps up your lips.

The night before, you used all your most expensive skincare and had a very everything shower. If you have to suffer, at least you’ll look pretty.

You match your makeup to the theme—a whiteish sparkly eyeshadow and lots of highlighter, making you look like a mirrorball—in the best way possible.

With the last run of fingers through your hair you realize it’s almost the time to go.

It’s already dark outside, the moon radiating from the snowy beach in the distance. You grab your heels and bag, hearing your mother calling you from downstairs.

You take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay. It has to be.

The Camerons have just pulled up, their car’s engine dying soundly as you jump off the last step. You look down at your hands and can’t help but notice them slightly shaking.

The doors open, and Ward comes in first, with Rose close by him. Then, Wheezie runs in, dragging Sarah by her hand.

Rafe follows them like a ghost, all quiet when he closes the door behind him.

“Well, look who’s there!”

Your father directs these words to the oldest of the Cameron siblings. You glance at Rafe and see his eyes slightly widen as your dad comes up to him. Almost as if he’s thrown off by it.

He quickly regains his typical confidence and shakes the man’s hand, steady and sure.

“Hi!” Sarah comes up to you, a cheeky smile spread on her face. She looks as gorgeous as ever— her blonde hair pinned up in a half-updo, some strands hanging out and curling around her face.

You hug her, lingering for a bit before pulling away and noticing Wheezie looking at you.

“Well! There goes the princess,” you say, bowing in front of her, so low you’d fold in half. The young girl giggles, and you feel your heart warm up.

"Come on, girls! We're going to be late!"

Rose is already waiting by the door, tapping her heeled foot on the wooden floor.

You glance at the Cameron sisters, rolling your eyes.

"I saw that, young girl."

Sarah snorts behind your back, and you send Rose a sheepish smile. When you run your eyes around the room, you notice Rafe staring at you.

He has a total poker face. Not a single muscle moves when you examine his features, but his eyes speak, or rather scream a million words. There's a hint of anger, making you grimace.

You just have to show off for a little while by his side, and it will be over before you even notice.

You tell this to yourself as you walk out the door, still feeling his gaze on your back.

It's going to be a long night.

The parking lot outside of the country club is already filled with expensive cars when your family and Camerons arrive.

You get out and the cold air quickly hits you, a sharp breath sneaks out of your lungs.

“Okay…” You whisper to yourself, watching Rafe slam the car’s door as he and his family come out. “Remember, just a few hours.”

“Are you ready?”

You turn around and see your father already standing there with Rafe. How the hell did this boy get here so quickly?

“Do we really have to?” You try, eyeing Rafe and noticing his jaw clenching.

“Y/n…” Your father tilts his head and gives you one of his looks, and you know there’s no point in arguing any further.

You turn to Rafe, feeling a lump in your throat appear.

“You’re cold.” He says, looking you up and down. You grimace.

“Excuse me?”

Rafe gestures at your body, “You’re literally shaking.”

You look down, and he’s right— in all these emotions, you didn’t really see it. “Whatever.”

Now it’s him who twists his lips, as if he wants to say something, but changes his mind at the last moment.

“Why do we even have to show off together like some monkeys in a—”

“Are you two coming?” Your mother interrupts you by exclaiming, already waiting at the door.

You glance at Rafe once again and let out a muffled huff. “Let’s just get this done.”

The silent treatment is nice, you have to admit. He follows you without a word, and soon enough you are on the last step.

You take a shaky breath. Most of the people are already there. All the thoughts hit you at once— what if you accidentally slip? Or spill your wine? What if—

Rafe doesn’t let you finish that sentence in your head, because he opens up the door and clears his throat, giving you a signal to finally move.

You startle and quickly get in, immediately getting hit by the wave of warm air and the heavy smell of candles mixed into it.

Rafe’s presence by your side is radiating. You feel it, almost as if he was burning, just inches away from your arm.

You can’t help but remember the memorable night it all went down. It felt the same, yet so different.

Suddenly, Rafe puts his hand on your waist, making a shiver run down your spine. His touch is soft and barely even there as if he’s disgusted to even touch you. Despite yourself, you feel a sting in your heart, and can’t help but wonder how many times it will happen again tonight.

An older man comes up to you two. You know him from the golf field, or at least that’s what you think. He sends you both a smile, before reaching out for your hand and shaking it with such a power you’re almost sure your arm popped out of its place.

“Hello there, Ms. Y/L,” he says, then directs a nod towards Rafe, “Young Cameron. Tell me, what do you think about this?”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, looking around properly for the first time.

The whole place is decorated with such elegance— silver elements mixed with black and white. The glasses on the tables are already filled with champagne, waiting for the guests to come and try it. And, Lord, is that a live band performing on the stage?

The lights reflecting from the crystal accents gleam in your eyes, and you don’t even notice when the corners of your mouth have risen.

They must’ve spent a fortune on this.

“I’m glad you like it,” Mr. Cohen, if you remember his name correctly, says, his eyes trailing off to the dance floor, slowly being filled up with pairs ready for the opening dance. “Oh! Perfect timing. You’ll still get to join. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Your face falls. You discretely steal a glance at Rafe but aren’t able to see anything past his stupid neutral face. You look down, and he takes his hand off your hip in a second, stretching it out as if he got burned.

“Come on!” Mr Cohen hurries you, and you look at him while clenching your jaw. You send him the most polite smile you can make up on your face at the moment, and, defeated, slowly make your way to the crowd.

“You don’t have to do this.”

This is the second time Rafe has spoken up this night. Did he vow to only speak in single sentences for the whole ball?

You look at him skeptically, “As if you don’t know my parents. And Ward. Let’s just— get it done. After that, you can go to your friends, and I can go my separate way.”

He raises his eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. A few women smile at you when you and Rafe squeeze through the other pairs, finally finding a decent place.

The musicians start to play a soft and slow melody. The violin goes first, the sweet notes sounding through the whole room, accompanying the moving pairs.

Rafe’s hands find their way to your body. He holds you close, so close you can feel the tension in his muscles.

You try not to look at his face, because every time you do, your mind wanders. To the moments before that stupid kiss, to when it was just you and Rage against the world. If only you didn’t kiss, maybe everything would’ve been different.

You’d eventually move on, and seeing Rafe switch out his girls after less than a week would hurt less.

But, what matters is present. And right now, want it or not, you stand on the dance floor, so close to the boy you once swore you’d marry you can feel his irregular breath on the top of your head.

Rafe spins you around, and you realize you have dissociated for a while. He stares down at you, a shadow of a grimace sneaking up on his face. The heat rises to your cheeks, and you’re not really sure if it’s from anger, or maybe something else.

You swear you feel his touch on your waist tighten, the place where he’s resting his hand burning through the material. You clench your teeth. You’re almost sure your heart racing can be heard by the pairs near you.

It’s almost done.

You look around, trying to focus on anything else. The piano joined the melody, making it heavier. It builds up the rhythm, nearing the end. There are, what, two spins left before you’re finally free.

Yours, as well as Rafe’s movement, loosened up, his broad shoulders less tense than before, your body moving smoother as well.

When your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, at every feature. For the first time, you see something else in his eyes.

Regret.

He notices he’s been caught, and doesn’t seem to care. His eyes lazily move across your face, but the emotions change as quickly as they appear. You furrow your eyebrows as he spins you around for the last time as if you are the only ones on the dance floor.

Someone accidentally bumps into you, pushing you even closer to Rafe. Does this have to happen to you?

He grips you a little harder. The last chord plays out, essentially ending the dance, and you pull away as fast as you can. His breath hitches, almost unnoticeably. His hand lingers in the air for what feels like an eternity to you. You look in his eyes you’re unable to decode for the last time before giving him a stiff nod and getting off the parquet, your heels’ clicking lost between the steps of others.

The crowd thins out slowly, and Rafe’s gone from your eyesight before the next song starts.

You sit down at the long table. Dinner is about to start, and the waiters are smoothly spinning around, either getting all the food ready or adding champagne to the crystal glasses.

You lean back on the chair, take a long, deep breath, and explore the table with your eyes. Many people are still dancing, so not all the seats are taken. Each of them is already assigned. You’re reading the cursive letters on the note left by the seat next to you when someone’s voice appears behind you.

“I fear that we don’t know each other.”

You jump up in your place and turn around. A tall, dark-haired boy your age, or a little older, is standing there. He smiles and sits down on the chair beside you before he introduces himself, “Callum SMTH.”

“Y/N Y/L,” you answer, resting your chin on your palm. “I haven’t seen you around.”

Callum laughs, and you hold back from furrowing your brows. “I’ve been gone for my studies, but, finally, I’m back.”

You open your mouth to say something but get interrupted by the clinks of some utensils. Both you and the boy look up.

Rafe’s sitting down right there in front of you. His jaw tightens when he glances at you.

“Cameron? Is that you?” Callum says, and you raise your eyebrow. “Man, I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Rafe looks him up and down, forcing a smile that doesn’t even reach halfway to his eyes. “Yeah, and I wish it could stay this way.”

Your eyes widen while Rafe doesn’t look bothered. Callum grimaces and opens his mouth, so you quickly interrupt him by getting his attention back on you, “So, what are these studies about?”

The boy regains his confidence and starts rambling a seemingly learned-by-heart speech about some law studies in LA. You can’t help but sneak glances at Rafe between nodding and humming.

He sits still at the table, his broad shoulders straight as he looks around, obviously avoiding the sight of you.

Soon enough, the seats are full, and the president of the country club starts his speech. His monotonous voice makes it hard for you to keep your eyes open, forcing you to constantly blink in order not to fall asleep.

When he ends, you automatically join the applause, softly clapping your hands with a taught, polite smile.

Everyone gets to eating and chatting, and you immediately curse the person who set up the seating arrangements.

“So, Miss Y/L, how’s it going at school?” Ms. Thornton asks as you pour some juice into your glass.

You look up, your fingers intuitively tightening the grip, only to see everyone sitting close by looking at you with a curious expression— including Rafe, although his fave is more of a typical Cameron poker face.

“Well,” you start, and you feel your cheeks warm up from the attention. “It’s… fine. I started volunteering at the hospital, and—”

“Ooh, how ambitious!” Some older man exclaims, cutting his steak in half. “Isn’t it the same place our Rafe volunteered in his sophomore year?”

You lock eyes with him and watch as he takes a breath. But, instead of saying anything, he just nods.

“Speaking of Rafe,” An elegant, adult woman says, “Do you have anyone? You know, my cousin is already engaged with his fiancée. I’m sure someone has caught your eye!”

You almost choke on your drink, covering it with a small cough. Callum looks at you with wide eyes, but you dismissively wave your hand at him.

Rafe’s eyes are burning holes in you as he speaks up, his voice steady and calm, “I don’t think so. Not lately, at least.”

The woman gives him a hum and starts talking about her cousin’s upcoming wedding, and Rafe falls silent.

You can’t help but knit your eyebrows. You’ve never seen Rafe this quiet at an event like this— usually, he’d be chatting with some golf buddy or his father’s friend, or at least Topper or Kelce.

Tonight, they sit a few seats away, exchanging worried and suspicious looks.

You try to tell yourself it doesn’t bother you. His well-being is not your business or your misery.

And yet, that’s all you can think about for the rest of the dinner.

After everyone has eaten, the time for the dessert is very relaxing. Some people stayed at the table, and many returned to the dancefloor.

You now sit with Sarah and Wheezie, drinking one of the drinks offered to you by a waiter.

"And so, you know, I told her what I think about her, and she—" You don't get to finish because Ward comes up to the three of you.

He kisses his daughters on their heads and smiles at you.

“How are you all doing?” he asks, leaning on the chairs.

“All good, dad!” Sarah answers before she takes another sip from her glass.

“What about you?” he turns his head in your direction, a sly expression slowly creeping up on his face. “I must say, you and Rafe made a beautiful pair at the opening dance.”

Your breath hitches, unnoticed by the others. “I’m glad you liked it.” That’s all that escapes your lips.

“You know, I’m very grateful you agreed upon this. I’ve heard Rafe talking about you a lot, so I figured out I could ask your parents…”

He goes on, but you don’t catch any more words. It feels as if the world stopped— the music suddenly much quieter, overflowed by the racing pulse of your heart.

Rafe was talking about you.

All you’ve experienced from him for the past months were grimaces, snarky comments, or looks that could kill you.

And now Ward is telling you his son was fucking talking about you?

You open up your mouth, about to form a respond, when you hear gasps cutting through the air, followed by a loud bang.

You exchange a look with Sarah and both dart up to your feet.

“What the fuck is—” you say in between panting, going through the hall after your best friend.

You two have to squeeze through the people surrounding the scene. Sarah makes it out first.

“Rafe!” she calls out, and you practically feel your heart go all the way to your throat.

When you finally push the last person and manage to take a big breath, you can’t help but curse loudly at what’s happening in front of you.

Callum is on the ground, holding his hand to his nose, all covered in blood. Rafe is standing above him, irregular pants coming out of his lungs as he stares at the boy. He’s fuming.

Your eyes and Rafe’s lock together, and you see his expression change for a second before he shakes his head and storms out the room, going straight outside in the cold.

You come closer to Callum laying on the ground, quietly throwing cuss words under his breath. You’re frozen to the spot you are standing in.

The only thing you can hear in your head is your heartbeat. All the talking melts together. People pass by, accidentally bumping into your shoulders, but you can’t care less.

You should help Callum.

It’s the right thing to do. He was polite for the whole night, making small talk and passing you every juice you wanted, unlike Rafe who constantly shot glares at you and acted as if even the thought of touching you disgusts him.

But when you look out the big windows, and see Rafe’s tall figure making its way through the snow, you know. You just know.

Isn’t that a reoccurring thing? Whatever you’d do, you always end up near him. No matter how hard you’d try to stop it.

It’s like the gravity pushed you into his arms. Like the universe made it clear.

You and Rafe.

The little voice in your head calls you. You’re not sure id it’s real, or if maybe it’s just the illusion from the drinks you’ve had, but the word ring in your head.

Go.

Go.

And so you listen.

The freezing air hits you like a slap across the face. Your shoulders are fully exposed and you start to regret not grabbing your fur bolero on the way out.

“Rafe!”

He slows down and turns his head to you. His eyebrows are arched and knit, and you notice he clenches up his fists— the knuckles still painted red.

“Go inside,” he grumbles in a voice soaked with anger. “You’ll get sick. Leave me alone.”

You huff. “No. No, no, we’re not doing that,” you say as you almost catch up to him. He doesn’t stop, so you pull his arm. “Rafe!”

Rafe stops in his tracks, and you feel his hand shaking under yours. “Wha- What the fuck are you doing?! Now you’re just punching people? Talking about me so much that Ward himself asked my parents to make me—”

His face goes paler than the snow surrounding you.

“How do you know that?”

Your lips twist in a grimace. “Ugh, fuck that right now. Why did you punch Callum?”

Rafe looks down at his knuckles, and his voice comes out confidently, “He deserved that.”

“But why?” Your voice raises, and you feel the anger that’s bubbling up inside you going dangerously close to the edge. “Do you just hate the idea of me even talking with someone else? You can’t bear seeing me enjoying something or—”

“I did it because I care about you!” he shouts out, his voice trembling. Your eyes widen.

“You care about me, so you decide punching the first guy I’m just talking with?”

“He was talking shit about you!” he finally spits out, now animating with his hands. “Talking about how you’re just a dumb bitch who knows nothing about life because she lives off of daddy’s money. Was I supposed to just- just let him say that?”

You hold your breath, your brows furrowed, and Rafe continues. “Well, I couldn’t. Because, for fuck’s sake, I love you, Y/N!”

The bubble bursts with the last words. You push him away, your vision blurry by the tears hanging of your eyelids. “Yeah? You love me? Well, I think you presented that perfectly at the birthday party. When you decided it was a perfect timing to make out with some bitch while I was literally standing outside the door—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rafe stops you mid-sentence. You wipe your tears, and when you can see clearer, you see the frightened look on his face.

“Don’t act stupid, Rafe. If you wanted to just kiss me and check it off your list, you could’ve just said that instead of acting like you felt what I did too.”

He grimaces. “I have no idea what do you mean—”

You let out a frustrated laugh, still speaking loudly through the night. “Oh? You don’t remember? Taking some touron to your room when you were supposed to drive me home?”

You see the moment it clicks in his head. His face falls, and he turns around from you, letting out a shaky breath. “I have never kissed her.”

“Wow. You can’t even say that to my face—”

Rafe looks at you again. “I have never kissed her. I don’t know what the fuck did you see, but nothing happened. If you stayed there for longer you’d know that I pushed her away in a second and went to look for you, but you were already leaving with Topper.”

Your heart misses a beat. Or maybe two. He must be lying, right?

“No. Nononono, but- but if that’s what happened, why didn’t you…”

He snorts. “What? Talk to you after you admitted it was a mistake?”

You throw your hands in the air. “I freaked out! I thought I was just a new notch in your belt, so this was the only way I could protect myself from being hurt even more!”

“Do you know how I felt? I’ve liked you—fuck it, I’ve loved you—for two years and I finally got to kiss you, and then you just tell me to forget it?” Rafe says, his voice much quieter now.

You feel your cheeks grow red when he gets closer, his lips inches from yours. “I thought it was for the better-”

He doesn’t let you finish. He cups your face and pulls you closer, connecting your lips together.

Someone has to pinch you, because this does not feel real.

You cautiously wrap your arms around his neck, letting all the emotions spill.

If the kiss on the rooftop wasn’t like in all your bedtime scenarios, this one definitely gets closer.

It’s passionate, fierce— just like Rafe. It’s out of the world. He’s burning, the warmth going everywhere: from your lips to your cheeks, to your heart. You are almost sure his is beating louder than yours.

He sighs into your lips, breaking the kiss to get some air, and you feel your mind spiral. Rafe’s eyes meet yours, and there’s not a glimpse of the emotions from earlier.

“Do you believe me now?” he whispers, softly brushing his lips on the corner of your mouth.

You hum, “Maybe.”

“Good.” He pulls you to his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. You try your best to remain calm, although, if you were alone, you’d probably be jumping all over the ground. “By the way. Ho told you I was talking about you?”

“Ward... Didn’t know you were so devoted, Cameron.” You say with a giggle. He snorts and rolls his eyes.

“That old…” he mumbles, “Well. I can’t imagine otherwise.”

The corners of your mouth rise. You turn your head to the country club. “Don’t you think we should—”

You step back, or rather try to, but Rafe quickly pulls you back to him. “They’ll be fine.”

You let out a hitched breath.You don’t know what this exactly is. Or how it’ll go.

But you trust the universe with this one.

okay well !!! since you’ve reached this moment of the post i’d like to thank every single one of you for being as excited as i am for this one shot to come out, and sharing your energy with me through the comments asks etc. while i didn’t answer every single one of them, i want you to know that i see them, and i’m so so grateful.

this was super fun for me to write and for the first time i’ve felt such a motivation!!!

i know it’s kinda weird to get this dramatic about it but seriously, it means the world to me, especially considering that i started what, a month ago??

there’s not a SINGLE nonchalant bone in my body

i’m rambling now so as the ending note i hope you all enjoyed it ;)) tysm for waiting and sticking around, love youuu

| ۶ৎ taglist (thank you for liking it sm!! love you) :

@maybankslover @hypnotizedstarkey @akobx @f4irywor1d @binforfeelings @belle101200 @jkrafe @enjoymyloves @eloiavicki @thescooponsof @drewwhor @fallingwallsh @pillowprincess4him @mima116 @lex1031 @stayjellasbitches @dedpoetess @teenwolfbitches28 @drewrry @wellwellhereiam @tequilawithissues @houisfuck28 @midsoulz @whydoineedastupiduser @ltristessedureratoujours @eloiavicki @emeloyy @rafecameronsbitch @perfectmenarefictional @sunflower-hood @buckyssbestgirl @faithywaithy2006 @angvl3tears @lmg-stilinski24 @crybabyreads @enjoymyloves @lvrsvfx @drewstarkeytruelove @otheliesstuff @watersquirtpewpewboomm @drewstarkeyslover

if i missed anyone i'm SO sorry i tried to keep up

[mayanneaa]

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.