mrsstarkey1

[mrsstarkey1]

nothing good (getaway car) - d.s.

yn is in a loving relationship with a guy she has no complaints about. tom(blyth, holland, hiddleston, take ur pick) is amazing. only problem? it's too good. restless, always searching for an exit, she never expected to find it in drew starkey. one lingering glance from across the bar and suddenly, she’s slipping into the passenger seat of a getaway car she knows is bound to crash. but that’s the thing about running—it only ever feels good until the chase is over.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: slight smut, infidelity, cursing

obx masterlist

The theater is dark, the screen flickering with golden light, but you can’t focus.

Tom is sitting beside you, his hand resting on your thigh, the way a good boyfriend’s should. He’s completely absorbed in the film—his film—the one he’s poured his heart into. Every time the audience reacts, he squeezes your knee in excitement, like he’s saying, Did you hear that? They loved it.

And you try. You really do. You keep your eyes on the screen, laughing at all the right moments. But your mind drifts, the way it always does.

Because here you are again—bored.

It’s always like this. You get restless, your fingers itch for something new. You don’t mean to be this way. You don’t want to be this way. But no matter how good a man is, no matter how many red carpets or candlelit dinners or whispered I love yous you collect, you always end up feeling like this.

Detached. Distant. Disconnected.

Tom leans over, whispering, “That was my favorite scene. Did you like it?”

You force a smile, turning to him, trying to shake yourself out of it. “I loved it.”

His brows furrow slightly, blue eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod quickly, turning your attention back to the screen. “Of course. I’m just tired.”

He believes you. Because why wouldn’t he? You’re the perfect girlfriend—always there, always smiling, always saying the right things.

But tonight, you’re not sure how much longer you can pretend.

The weight of it all presses against your chest—too many eyes, too many expectations. You can feel Tom’s hand at the small of your back, warm and steady, a silent reminder of the role you’re supposed to play. You force a smile, let him guide you through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces, laughing at jokes you barely register.

And yet, beneath the shimmering lights and flowing champagne, something inside you itches, restless and uncontained.

It’s loud. Too loud.

Hollywood types fill the room—directors, actors, agents, all talking too fast, laughing too hard. Tom is in his element, shaking hands, flashing that charming grin. You squeeze his arm. “Go socialize, movie star. I’m gonna grab a drink.” 

He hesitates for half a second before kissing your temple. “I won’t be long.”

You nod, already turning toward the bar.

But once you get there, you don’t leave.

One drink turns into two. Two turns into—who’s counting? The ice in your glass melts as you swirl it idly, your mind still elsewhere.

And then, you feel it.

A pair of eyes on you.

You look up, and there he is.

Drew Starkey.

Sitting across the room, leaning back in his seat, one arm draped lazily over the back of the booth. He’s watching you, a slow smirk playing on his lips, the kind that makes your stomach flip in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

You should look away.

You don’t.

He tilts his head slightly, as if to say, What’s a pretty girl like you doing drinking alone?

And that’s when you realize it—this is the moment. A moment you experience all too much. The point of no return.

You can get up, find Tom, pretend you never locked eyes with Drew Starkey across a crowded room. You haven’t done anything wrong, yet. 

Or you can pick up your drink, take a sip, and see what happens next.

You don’t look away.

Neither does he.

It’s a game of chicken now, the kind you shouldn’t be playing when your boyfriend is just across the room, laughing it up with his costars. But Drew doesn’t seem to care about that little detail—not with the way his lips curl at the edges, amused, like he already knows exactly how this will play out. 

And then—he stands.

You exhale slowly, turning back to your drink like you don’t notice. Like you don’t feel the heat of his gaze cutting through the crowd as he moves toward you.

A beat. Then, a voice, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.

“You looked lonely.”

You glance up. He’s already leaning against the bar, a lazy confidence in the way he takes up space. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his collarbone, sleeves rolled up in a way that feels entirely calculated.

You arch a brow, playing along. “And you just couldn’t let that stand?”

Drew tilts his head slightly, eyes flickering over your face. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he orders a drink, “Old Fashioned, please,” before turning his full attention back to you.

“Let’s just say I’m a humanitarian.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Saint Drew Starkey, patron of lonely girls at bars.”

He smirks, tapping the rim of his glass before taking a slow sip. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

The conversation is easy, effortless, a kind of push-and-pull that makes something in your chest tighten. You’re intrigued—because of course you are. Because he’s intriguing.

And hot as hell.

You knew that before, in a vague, yeah-he’s-attractive kind of way. But now that he’s right in front of you, now that you can see the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his blue eyes flicker under the dim bar lights—yeah, you get it.

He studies you like he’s trying to figure something out.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing sitting at a bar alone at her boyfriend’s movie premiere?”

There it is.

He knows who you are. He knows who you’re here for. And he’s still standing way too close, still watching you like he wants something.

The smart thing to do would be to laugh, brush him off, go find Tom.

Instead, you tilt your head, tapping a nail against your glass. “Maybe I like a little space.”

Drew hums, like that answer doesn’t surprise him. Like he already knew it.

And then, he leans in—just enough for his voice to drop into something lower, more dangerous.

“Or maybe you’re just looking for an exit.”

Your breath catches. "Is that an observation?" You tilt your head to search his eyes, "or an invitation?"

Drew’s lips twitch like he wasn’t expecting you to match his energy so easily. He takes a slow sip of his drink, watching you over the rim before setting the glass down with a quiet clink.

“Depends,” he muses, running a finger along the condensation on his glass. “Would you take it if it was?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. He’s good—too good. The kind of smooth that should make you wary. Key word being should.

Instead, you angle yourself toward him, elbow resting on the bar as you meet his gaze. “You always talk in circles, or is that just for me?”

Drew smirks, tipping his head slightly. “Maybe you make it more fun.”

His voice is easy, teasing, but there’s something beneath it. A challenge. A dare.

Your fingers tap against the bar. You should excuse yourself, find Tom, do anything but sit here, entertaining this.

But instead, you lean in just slightly, close enough that his scent—something sharp, something expensive—wraps around you.

“You think I’m here for fun?” you ask, lips barely curving.

Drew hums, eyes flickering to your mouth before dragging back up. “Here—meaning sitting at this bar with me?”

You nod once, unsure of his angle.

He pretends to think it over, tilting his glass in his hand. Then, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach tighten, he murmurs, “No. I think you’re here because you hate events where you have to pretend to be in love with your boyfriend.”

Your fingers tighten around your drink. The ice clinks against the glass.

Because he isn’t wrong.

And the fact that he sees it so clearly? That should bother you.

But you find yourself leaning in just a little closer. "And what makes you think I’m pretending?"

Drew smirks, slow and knowing. "Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t still be sitting here."

You stare at him, your brain and heart running on overdrive.

You know what should happen next. You should finish your drink, put on a smile, and go find Tom—stand next to him, wrap an arm around his waist, remind yourself that he’s good. That he’s kind, and sweet, and proud of you. That you’re supposed to be his.

But of course, you don’t.

“And if I left?” you ask, voice quiet, just for him. “Would you follow?”

His lips twitch, his amusement barely concealed. “That depends. Are you running?”

Your pulse jumps. You swallow, setting your glass down. 

Because yes. Of course you are. You always do.

Drew watches you carefully, fingers tapping against the bar. He could call your bluff. Could smirk and let you go back to your perfect little life. Could make it easy for you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost against your cheek. “You want an exit?” he murmurs. “I’ll give you one.”

You don’t have time to second-guess.

Because suddenly, your feet are moving. Your heart is pounding.

You don’t check to see if Tom notices. You don’t check to see if anyone does. You just slip through the crowd, past glittering gowns and crisp suits and clinking glasses, and push through the doors into the cool night air.

A sleek black car is idling by the curb. The driver barely glances up before stepping out to open the door.

Drew nods at him, then looks at you. A silent question.

You take one last breath of hesitation. One last chance to stop this before it starts.

The second you slide into the car, a laugh bubbles up in your throat—light, breathless, entirely uncontrollable.

Drew gets in after you, shutting the door with a quiet click, and that’s it. You’re gone. No cameras, no flashing lights, no careful smiles. Just the two of you and the city slipping past in a blur.

You press a hand to your lips, still grinning, the adrenaline coursing hot through your veins. This is so bad. Reckless. Messy. But God, it feels good.

Drew watches you, amusement flickering in his eyes as he leans back, stretching an arm along the seat. “You always run this fast?”

You shoot him a look, “Only when there’s something worth running to.” He's good, you've seen that throughout the night. But you know you're better.

His lips twitch, and instead of answering, he reaches forward—plucks a chilled bottle of champagne from the car’s minibar like it was meant for this exact moment. The foil crinkles, the cork pops, and you flinch before giggling again, head tilting back against the seat.

“Jesus,” you exhale, watching as he pours, the bubbles rising in the glass.

Drew smirks, passing one to you. “To running.”

You clink your glass against his, eyes glinting under the streetlights. “To the story of my life," you mumble.

The champagne is cold and sharp against your tongue, fizzing like the thrill still buzzing under your skin. You take another sip, letting your body sink into the moment, into the warmth, into the sheer wrongness of it all.

Drew watches you over the rim of his glass, gaze flickering to your lips before dragging back up. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.

Because you know.

This is the part where you should hesitate. Where you should remember Tom, the careful life you just stepped out of, the lines you’re about to cross.

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, setting your glass aside, hands bracing against the seat as you crawl onto his lap, fabric slipping high on your thighs.

Drew hums, low in his throat, hands finding your waist like it’s second nature. “You move fast.”

You smirk, fingers curling into the undone knot of his tie. “You just noticed?"

Then his lips are on yours, hot and insistent and God help you, you can't remember Tom's name.

The kiss is messy, rushed, all tongue and need, like you’re making up for lost time neither of you even knew you missed. You fist a hand in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth.

The car takes a sharp turn, and Drew pulls back just enough to look at you, lips swollen, eyes dark. His fingers ghost over your jaw, then trail down, slow, deliberate.

“This is the part," he licks his lips, eyes scanning over your face, "where you tell me if you want to go home, or to the hotel on the end of the street."

You could play coy. You could make him chase. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, lips brushing against his, and whisper, “Make sure it's a suite."

The grin that spreads across his face is pure sin. 

The next few minutes are a blur of heat and hands and whispered things you won’t remember in the morning. The car stops, a door opens, and Drew is pulling you out, his grip firm around your wrist.

You follow him through the back entrance, avoiding the glow of security cameras overhead. The way he moves—quick, confident, like he’s done this before—sends a thrill down your spine. Inside, the lobby is quiet, dimly lit. A night worker barely glances up as Drew approaches the desk, exchanging a few low words you can’t quite catch.

It’s the way it happens so smoothly, the way the worker nods without question, slipping him a key card like it’s routine, that has something twisting deep in your stomach.

You should probably wonder. Ask questions. But instead, it just turns you on more.

Drew glances back at you, lips twitching like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He slides the key into his pocket and reaches for your hand, his grip firm, leading you toward the elevators.

The moment the doors slide shut, his hands are on you again—palming at your waist, pressing your back against the cool metal, mouth hungry at the curve of your jaw.

The ride to the top floor is torturous. Every second feels stretched too thin, charged with heat. When the doors open, he doesn’t let go of you, walking backward down the hall like he can’t bear to break the contact.

The second the suite door shuts behind you, Drew’s on you again—his hands firm on your hips, his mouth already seeking yours like he’s been starved for it. His kisses are deep, urgent, but teasing too, like he enjoys dragging this out just to watch you fall apart.

Your fingers work quickly at the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, reveling in the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. He lets you undress him without protest, but his hands aren’t idle—his fingers skim under the hem of your dress, pushing it up inch by inch, teasing.

As he tugs it over your head, he leans in, breath warm against your ear. “You always this impatient, or am I just special?”

You scoff, raking your nails down his chest. “Shut up and take your pants off.”

His low chuckle vibrates against your skin, but he obeys, kicking them off to be long forgotten. The two of you leave a careless trail of clothing across the hardwood floor, stumbling blindly toward the bedroom.

You pull back for a breath, chest rising and falling, but Drew doesn’t let you go far—his lips immediately attach to your collarbone, teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin. A sharp sigh escapes you, your head tilting back to give him more access.

Your eyes flick around the room, momentarily distracted. "God, this place is nice," you murmur.

Drew hums against your skin, his lips still working their way lower. “Yeah? You thinking about interior design right now?”

You chuckle, fingers weaving into his hair as you tug lightly, forcing his gaze down to yours. "No, baby, only thinking of you," you tease, looking at him through your lashes.

A slow smirk spreads across his lips, dark and knowing, before his hands slide down to your thighs—gripping firm before lifting you with effortless strength. You barely have time to react before he all but throws you onto the mattress, the plush bedding sinking beneath your weight.

He towers over you, his eyes raking over your body like he’s committing every inch to memory. Then, he tilts his head, voice rough yet laced with amusement. 

"You know," he muses, finger tracing down your bare stomach, dancing around the fabric of your thong. "I don’t feel great about stealing Tom’s girl, especially on the night of his big premiere," he tsks. "He’s a great actor. Seems like a great guy."

You freeze for half a second, your brows lifting as your eyes snap to his. The smirk playing on his lips is lazy, arrogant—like he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to get under your skin.

Your fingers ghost over the waistband of his briefs, "Are you saying you want to stop? Hmm? 'Cause I'm sure he'd be happy to come take your place. I mean, you've already got me all hot and ready for hi-"

Drew lets out a sharp breath—almost a laugh, but darker. His mouth ghosts over your jaw, trailing down your neck, teeth grazing over your pulse point as he mutters, "Careful."

Heat pools low in your stomach, and you don’t bother fighting the grin tugging at your lips.

"Then shut up the fuck up about Tom."

He huffs out a low chuckle against your skin. "Who?" 

That’s enough talking, you both decide. 

His lips are slow, teasing, dragging across your skin in a way that has you gasping, hands grasping at him, nails digging into his back. He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every breathy moan he pulls from your lips.

And when he finally gives in, it’s fast and slow all at once—like he can’t get enough of you, but also wants to make this last. His touch is firm, controlled, but there’s a hunger beneath it, an urgency that makes heat coil low in your stomach. His hands roam your body, memorizing, mapping, claiming.

He’s good. Too good. The kind of good that makes you dizzy, that makes you forget your own name, let alone the one of the man you left behind tonight.

“God,” you breathe, fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves against you, burning skin on burning skin. He makes a noise in the back of his throat at the sound of your voice, like he’s reveling in the way you come undone beneath him. His name spills from your lips, a whisper, a plea, a curse all at once.

Drew’s mouth finds yours again, swallowing every sound, every broken breath. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he knows this can’t last but wants to make it count anyway.

And you let him.

You let him pull you under, let him ruin you in the best possible way, let him set a fire to everything you thought you knew.

Because for the first time in a long time—you feel something.

And it’s intoxicating. 

Drew is asleep beside you, his arm hooked around your waist, his breathing slow and steady. The room is dark except for the city lights bleeding in through the window, painting streaks of gold across the sheets.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind still running in circles. You stare at the ceiling, your heart pounding with something that isn’t just adrenaline. It’s something deeper, something heavier. The weight of everything you just did, everything this means.

You should leave.

But as you shift slightly, testing the idea, Drew’s grip tightens in his sleep, his arm flexing just enough to pull you closer, as if even unconscious, he can sense you trying to go.

You freeze.

A sharp inhale. A pause.

Your eyes flick toward the hotel desk. A notepad and pen sit untouched beside the lamp, waiting.

You think about what you’d write.

I’m sorry. No. Too simple. Too empty.

This was a mistake. A lie.

Don’t follow me. You don’t even know if you mean it.

The words swirl in your mind, shifting, twisting, refusing to settle.

You press your lips together, staring at the blank page from across the room.

And you wonder if you’ll actually write anything at all.

---

requests open!

[mrsstarkey1]

nothing good (getaway car) - d.s.

yn is in a loving relationship with a guy she has no complaints about. tom(blyth, holland, hiddleston, take ur pick) is amazing. only problem? it's too good. restless, always searching for an exit, she never expected to find it in drew starkey. one lingering glance from across the bar and suddenly, she’s slipping into the passenger seat of a getaway car she knows is bound to crash. but that’s the thing about running—it only ever feels good until the chase is over.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: slight smut, infidelity, cursing

obx masterlist

The theater is dark, the screen flickering with golden light, but you can’t focus.

Tom is sitting beside you, his hand resting on your thigh, the way a good boyfriend’s should. He’s completely absorbed in the film—his film—the one he’s poured his heart into. Every time the audience reacts, he squeezes your knee in excitement, like he’s saying, Did you hear that? They loved it.

And you try. You really do. You keep your eyes on the screen, laughing at all the right moments. But your mind drifts, the way it always does.

Because here you are again—bored.

It’s always like this. You get restless, your fingers itch for something new. You don’t mean to be this way. You don’t want to be this way. But no matter how good a man is, no matter how many red carpets or candlelit dinners or whispered I love yous you collect, you always end up feeling like this.

Detached. Distant. Disconnected.

Tom leans over, whispering, “That was my favorite scene. Did you like it?”

You force a smile, turning to him, trying to shake yourself out of it. “I loved it.”

His brows furrow slightly, blue eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod quickly, turning your attention back to the screen. “Of course. I’m just tired.”

He believes you. Because why wouldn’t he? You’re the perfect girlfriend—always there, always smiling, always saying the right things.

But tonight, you’re not sure how much longer you can pretend.

The weight of it all presses against your chest—too many eyes, too many expectations. You can feel Tom’s hand at the small of your back, warm and steady, a silent reminder of the role you’re supposed to play. You force a smile, let him guide you through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces, laughing at jokes you barely register.

And yet, beneath the shimmering lights and flowing champagne, something inside you itches, restless and uncontained.

It’s loud. Too loud.

Hollywood types fill the room—directors, actors, agents, all talking too fast, laughing too hard. Tom is in his element, shaking hands, flashing that charming grin. You squeeze his arm. “Go socialize, movie star. I’m gonna grab a drink.” 

He hesitates for half a second before kissing your temple. “I won’t be long.”

You nod, already turning toward the bar.

But once you get there, you don’t leave.

One drink turns into two. Two turns into—who’s counting? The ice in your glass melts as you swirl it idly, your mind still elsewhere.

And then, you feel it.

A pair of eyes on you.

You look up, and there he is.

Drew Starkey.

Sitting across the room, leaning back in his seat, one arm draped lazily over the back of the booth. He’s watching you, a slow smirk playing on his lips, the kind that makes your stomach flip in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

You should look away.

You don’t.

He tilts his head slightly, as if to say, What’s a pretty girl like you doing drinking alone?

And that’s when you realize it—this is the moment. A moment you experience all too much. The point of no return.

You can get up, find Tom, pretend you never locked eyes with Drew Starkey across a crowded room. You haven’t done anything wrong, yet. 

Or you can pick up your drink, take a sip, and see what happens next.

You don’t look away.

Neither does he.

It’s a game of chicken now, the kind you shouldn’t be playing when your boyfriend is just across the room, laughing it up with his costars. But Drew doesn’t seem to care about that little detail—not with the way his lips curl at the edges, amused, like he already knows exactly how this will play out. 

And then—he stands.

You exhale slowly, turning back to your drink like you don’t notice. Like you don’t feel the heat of his gaze cutting through the crowd as he moves toward you.

A beat. Then, a voice, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.

“You looked lonely.”

You glance up. He’s already leaning against the bar, a lazy confidence in the way he takes up space. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his collarbone, sleeves rolled up in a way that feels entirely calculated.

You arch a brow, playing along. “And you just couldn’t let that stand?”

Drew tilts his head slightly, eyes flickering over your face. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he orders a drink, “Old Fashioned, please,” before turning his full attention back to you.

“Let’s just say I’m a humanitarian.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Saint Drew Starkey, patron of lonely girls at bars.”

He smirks, tapping the rim of his glass before taking a slow sip. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

The conversation is easy, effortless, a kind of push-and-pull that makes something in your chest tighten. You’re intrigued—because of course you are. Because he’s intriguing.

And hot as hell.

You knew that before, in a vague, yeah-he’s-attractive kind of way. But now that he’s right in front of you, now that you can see the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his blue eyes flicker under the dim bar lights—yeah, you get it.

He studies you like he’s trying to figure something out.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing sitting at a bar alone at her boyfriend’s movie premiere?”

There it is.

He knows who you are. He knows who you’re here for. And he’s still standing way too close, still watching you like he wants something.

The smart thing to do would be to laugh, brush him off, go find Tom.

Instead, you tilt your head, tapping a nail against your glass. “Maybe I like a little space.”

Drew hums, like that answer doesn’t surprise him. Like he already knew it.

And then, he leans in—just enough for his voice to drop into something lower, more dangerous.

“Or maybe you’re just looking for an exit.”

Your breath catches. "Is that an observation?" You tilt your head to search his eyes, "or an invitation?"

Drew’s lips twitch like he wasn’t expecting you to match his energy so easily. He takes a slow sip of his drink, watching you over the rim before setting the glass down with a quiet clink.

“Depends,” he muses, running a finger along the condensation on his glass. “Would you take it if it was?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. He’s good—too good. The kind of smooth that should make you wary. Key word being should.

Instead, you angle yourself toward him, elbow resting on the bar as you meet his gaze. “You always talk in circles, or is that just for me?”

Drew smirks, tipping his head slightly. “Maybe you make it more fun.”

His voice is easy, teasing, but there’s something beneath it. A challenge. A dare.

Your fingers tap against the bar. You should excuse yourself, find Tom, do anything but sit here, entertaining this.

But instead, you lean in just slightly, close enough that his scent—something sharp, something expensive—wraps around you.

“You think I’m here for fun?” you ask, lips barely curving.

Drew hums, eyes flickering to your mouth before dragging back up. “Here—meaning sitting at this bar with me?”

You nod once, unsure of his angle.

He pretends to think it over, tilting his glass in his hand. Then, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach tighten, he murmurs, “No. I think you’re here because you hate events where you have to pretend to be in love with your boyfriend.”

Your fingers tighten around your drink. The ice clinks against the glass.

Because he isn’t wrong.

And the fact that he sees it so clearly? That should bother you.

But you find yourself leaning in just a little closer. "And what makes you think I’m pretending?"

Drew smirks, slow and knowing. "Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t still be sitting here."

You stare at him, your brain and heart running on overdrive.

You know what should happen next. You should finish your drink, put on a smile, and go find Tom—stand next to him, wrap an arm around his waist, remind yourself that he’s good. That he’s kind, and sweet, and proud of you. That you’re supposed to be his.

But of course, you don’t.

“And if I left?” you ask, voice quiet, just for him. “Would you follow?”

His lips twitch, his amusement barely concealed. “That depends. Are you running?”

Your pulse jumps. You swallow, setting your glass down. 

Because yes. Of course you are. You always do.

Drew watches you carefully, fingers tapping against the bar. He could call your bluff. Could smirk and let you go back to your perfect little life. Could make it easy for you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost against your cheek. “You want an exit?” he murmurs. “I’ll give you one.”

You don’t have time to second-guess.

Because suddenly, your feet are moving. Your heart is pounding.

You don’t check to see if Tom notices. You don’t check to see if anyone does. You just slip through the crowd, past glittering gowns and crisp suits and clinking glasses, and push through the doors into the cool night air.

A sleek black car is idling by the curb. The driver barely glances up before stepping out to open the door.

Drew nods at him, then looks at you. A silent question.

You take one last breath of hesitation. One last chance to stop this before it starts.

The second you slide into the car, a laugh bubbles up in your throat—light, breathless, entirely uncontrollable.

Drew gets in after you, shutting the door with a quiet click, and that’s it. You’re gone. No cameras, no flashing lights, no careful smiles. Just the two of you and the city slipping past in a blur.

You press a hand to your lips, still grinning, the adrenaline coursing hot through your veins. This is so bad. Reckless. Messy. But God, it feels good.

Drew watches you, amusement flickering in his eyes as he leans back, stretching an arm along the seat. “You always run this fast?”

You shoot him a look, “Only when there’s something worth running to.” He's good, you've seen that throughout the night. But you know you're better.

His lips twitch, and instead of answering, he reaches forward—plucks a chilled bottle of champagne from the car’s minibar like it was meant for this exact moment. The foil crinkles, the cork pops, and you flinch before giggling again, head tilting back against the seat.

“Jesus,” you exhale, watching as he pours, the bubbles rising in the glass.

Drew smirks, passing one to you. “To running.”

You clink your glass against his, eyes glinting under the streetlights. “To the story of my life," you mumble.

The champagne is cold and sharp against your tongue, fizzing like the thrill still buzzing under your skin. You take another sip, letting your body sink into the moment, into the warmth, into the sheer wrongness of it all.

Drew watches you over the rim of his glass, gaze flickering to your lips before dragging back up. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.

Because you know.

This is the part where you should hesitate. Where you should remember Tom, the careful life you just stepped out of, the lines you’re about to cross.

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, setting your glass aside, hands bracing against the seat as you crawl onto his lap, fabric slipping high on your thighs.

Drew hums, low in his throat, hands finding your waist like it’s second nature. “You move fast.”

You smirk, fingers curling into the undone knot of his tie. “You just noticed?"

Then his lips are on yours, hot and insistent and God help you, you can't remember Tom's name.

The kiss is messy, rushed, all tongue and need, like you’re making up for lost time neither of you even knew you missed. You fist a hand in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth.

The car takes a sharp turn, and Drew pulls back just enough to look at you, lips swollen, eyes dark. His fingers ghost over your jaw, then trail down, slow, deliberate.

“This is the part," he licks his lips, eyes scanning over your face, "where you tell me if you want to go home, or to the hotel on the end of the street."

You could play coy. You could make him chase. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, lips brushing against his, and whisper, “Make sure it's a suite."

The grin that spreads across his face is pure sin. 

The next few minutes are a blur of heat and hands and whispered things you won’t remember in the morning. The car stops, a door opens, and Drew is pulling you out, his grip firm around your wrist.

You follow him through the back entrance, avoiding the glow of security cameras overhead. The way he moves—quick, confident, like he’s done this before—sends a thrill down your spine. Inside, the lobby is quiet, dimly lit. A night worker barely glances up as Drew approaches the desk, exchanging a few low words you can’t quite catch.

It’s the way it happens so smoothly, the way the worker nods without question, slipping him a key card like it’s routine, that has something twisting deep in your stomach.

You should probably wonder. Ask questions. But instead, it just turns you on more.

Drew glances back at you, lips twitching like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He slides the key into his pocket and reaches for your hand, his grip firm, leading you toward the elevators.

The moment the doors slide shut, his hands are on you again—palming at your waist, pressing your back against the cool metal, mouth hungry at the curve of your jaw.

The ride to the top floor is torturous. Every second feels stretched too thin, charged with heat. When the doors open, he doesn’t let go of you, walking backward down the hall like he can’t bear to break the contact.

The second the suite door shuts behind you, Drew’s on you again—his hands firm on your hips, his mouth already seeking yours like he’s been starved for it. His kisses are deep, urgent, but teasing too, like he enjoys dragging this out just to watch you fall apart.

Your fingers work quickly at the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, reveling in the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. He lets you undress him without protest, but his hands aren’t idle—his fingers skim under the hem of your dress, pushing it up inch by inch, teasing.

As he tugs it over your head, he leans in, breath warm against your ear. “You always this impatient, or am I just special?”

You scoff, raking your nails down his chest. “Shut up and take your pants off.”

His low chuckle vibrates against your skin, but he obeys, kicking them off to be long forgotten. The two of you leave a careless trail of clothing across the hardwood floor, stumbling blindly toward the bedroom.

You pull back for a breath, chest rising and falling, but Drew doesn’t let you go far—his lips immediately attach to your collarbone, teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin. A sharp sigh escapes you, your head tilting back to give him more access.

Your eyes flick around the room, momentarily distracted. "God, this place is nice," you murmur.

Drew hums against your skin, his lips still working their way lower. “Yeah? You thinking about interior design right now?”

You chuckle, fingers weaving into his hair as you tug lightly, forcing his gaze down to yours. "No, baby, only thinking of you," you tease, looking at him through your lashes.

A slow smirk spreads across his lips, dark and knowing, before his hands slide down to your thighs—gripping firm before lifting you with effortless strength. You barely have time to react before he all but throws you onto the mattress, the plush bedding sinking beneath your weight.

He towers over you, his eyes raking over your body like he’s committing every inch to memory. Then, he tilts his head, voice rough yet laced with amusement. 

"You know," he muses, finger tracing down your bare stomach, dancing around the fabric of your thong. "I don’t feel great about stealing Tom’s girl, especially on the night of his big premiere," he tsks. "He’s a great actor. Seems like a great guy."

You freeze for half a second, your brows lifting as your eyes snap to his. The smirk playing on his lips is lazy, arrogant—like he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to get under your skin.

Your fingers ghost over the waistband of his briefs, "Are you saying you want to stop? Hmm? 'Cause I'm sure he'd be happy to come take your place. I mean, you've already got me all hot and ready for hi-"

Drew lets out a sharp breath—almost a laugh, but darker. His mouth ghosts over your jaw, trailing down your neck, teeth grazing over your pulse point as he mutters, "Careful."

Heat pools low in your stomach, and you don’t bother fighting the grin tugging at your lips.

"Then shut up the fuck up about Tom."

He huffs out a low chuckle against your skin. "Who?" 

That’s enough talking, you both decide. 

His lips are slow, teasing, dragging across your skin in a way that has you gasping, hands grasping at him, nails digging into his back. He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every breathy moan he pulls from your lips.

And when he finally gives in, it’s fast and slow all at once—like he can’t get enough of you, but also wants to make this last. His touch is firm, controlled, but there’s a hunger beneath it, an urgency that makes heat coil low in your stomach. His hands roam your body, memorizing, mapping, claiming.

He’s good. Too good. The kind of good that makes you dizzy, that makes you forget your own name, let alone the one of the man you left behind tonight.

“God,” you breathe, fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves against you, burning skin on burning skin. He makes a noise in the back of his throat at the sound of your voice, like he’s reveling in the way you come undone beneath him. His name spills from your lips, a whisper, a plea, a curse all at once.

Drew’s mouth finds yours again, swallowing every sound, every broken breath. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he knows this can’t last but wants to make it count anyway.

And you let him.

You let him pull you under, let him ruin you in the best possible way, let him set a fire to everything you thought you knew.

Because for the first time in a long time—you feel something.

And it’s intoxicating. 

Drew is asleep beside you, his arm hooked around your waist, his breathing slow and steady. The room is dark except for the city lights bleeding in through the window, painting streaks of gold across the sheets.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind still running in circles. You stare at the ceiling, your heart pounding with something that isn’t just adrenaline. It’s something deeper, something heavier. The weight of everything you just did, everything this means.

You should leave.

But as you shift slightly, testing the idea, Drew’s grip tightens in his sleep, his arm flexing just enough to pull you closer, as if even unconscious, he can sense you trying to go.

You freeze.

A sharp inhale. A pause.

Your eyes flick toward the hotel desk. A notepad and pen sit untouched beside the lamp, waiting.

You think about what you’d write.

I’m sorry. No. Too simple. Too empty.

This was a mistake. A lie.

Don’t follow me. You don’t even know if you mean it.

The words swirl in your mind, shifting, twisting, refusing to settle.

You press your lips together, staring at the blank page from across the room.

And you wonder if you’ll actually write anything at all.

---

requests open!

[mrsstarkey1]

getting rafe hooked on dress to impress

my fav thing i’ve ever written i can’t even lie

word count: 1.2k

obx masterlist

you yawned loudly and abnoxiously as you walked into rafe’s bedroom. you kicked your shoes off, grabbing one of rafe’s t-shirts from his drawer, changing out of your uncomfortable clothes. “didn’t think you were coming back, it’s late as fuck.” rafe said, looking at you oddly as he sat up on the bed against the headboard.

“longest fucking day of my life. need to unwind.”

rafe smirked, reaching his whole body over the bed to grab your forearm. "like the sound of that," he mumbles.

you let yourself move toward him, but you groan, “not like that.” rafe momentarily pouts, but doesn’t let go of your arm. in fact, he pulls you closer onto the bed with him urging you to cuddle up into him.

he snakes his arm around you, soft fingers tracing circles into your side. "wanna talk about it?"

you yawn and shake your head, "nah, can we just watch a movie or something?"

rafe nods, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand. "you don't wanna watch some chick-flick do you?" he asks, grimacing already.

you sigh dramatically, “i guess not. fast and furious?”

rafe obligies, satisfied with your suggestion. you get comfortable on the bed, your head rested on rafe's shoulder and your phone rested on his chest as you scroll through tiktok.

about 20 minutes later, you see a video about the new halloween update on dress to impress and gasp before you can stop yourself. rafe jumps slightly, eyes wide. “jesus christ, what’s wrong?”

"sorry, nothing," you grin apologetically, "can I borrow your laptop though?"

he looks at you like you've lost your mind, but he still grabs his macbook from the nightstand, handing it over to you. you sit up excitedly, leaning up against the headboard.

you open the laptop and sign into your roblox account, side eyeing rafe as he gives you an odd look. "the fuck are you doing?"

"playing a game," you respond innocently.

he raises his eyebrows, "roblox? wheezie used to play that shit.. when she was 8," he says, judging you hardcore.

you glare at him, "you don't understand," you sigh. "just watch me play, it's genuinely fun."

he watches you click on dress to impress, making a disgusted face. "yeah I can't defend you on this one," he says and you shove his shoulder.

"well have you ever played dress to impress?" you ask him.

"obviously not," he says, his sassy side on full display.

"well don't judge then. just watch and i'll let you play a round when i'm done," you say with a smile, patting his cheek softly.

"hell nah," he says, directing his attention back to the movie.

you shake your head, giving up on getting him to play. you start a round, looking around at all the new pieces they added. the theme is holiday for your first round, so of course you do halloween.

you notice rafe's eyes on the computer screen as his curiosity clearly starts to creep back in despite himself. he watches as you piece together combination of a witch hat, spiderweb dress, and dark boots.

“what even is this shit?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly intrigued.

you grin, not taking your eyes off the screen since you only have a minute left. “you compete with other people to make the best outfit based on a theme. you'd be pretty good at it, you've got great style," you say, trying to persuade him.

he gives you a look, shaking his head, "sounds dumb as fuck," he says, and you just laugh. he's silent for a moment before turning slightly to have a better view of the screen, "so what you just like... dress them up and shit?"

you nod, watching the time run out. "yes, then everyone votes on each outfit and the top 3 get on the podium. see," you point to the screen, "the voting's starting now."

an outfit that's completely off theme struts down the runway and you grimace, "see like that one's ugly as fuck so i give it a 1. oooh look, this ones mine," you say with a proud smile. "doesn't she look great?"

rafe shrugs, "i guess."

you ended up getting third place, losing to two terrible outfits. you curse under your breath, before turning to him. “you wanna try a round?” you smile, looking up at him.

rafe scoffs, glancing back at the movie, but curiosity gets the better of him. “alright, fine, hand it over.” he takes the laptop.

"okay the theme is beach day," you tell him.

he hums in response, looking around at the clothes aimlessly. "rafe, you gotta pick something that actually matches,” you say, stifling a laugh as he pairs a yellow bikini top with neon green shorts.

"shh, I have a vision," he says, dismissing your words. "wait why the fuck doesn't she have a face?"

"you gotta go to the makeup and hair room, over there," you point at the screen.

he scrolls through the makeup options, finally decided on one. "mhm, she bad ain't she?" you chuckle, knowing rafe is secretly loving this.

time runs out just as he adds the coconut drink, and you see him watching the screen eagerly, waiting for the voting to end. one girl dressed in long pants and a jacket walks out and he looks over at you, disgusted, "this bitch didn't even look at the theme." all you can do is laugh and nod your head in agreement.

when rafe places second, he smirks, looking way too pleased with himself. "ha," he says, "i did better than you."

you roll your eyes. "yeah you're done playing," you say, snatching the laptop back.

the next night, you texted rafe that you were gonna come over after your morning shift and you didn't get a response, which was odd. you let yourself into his house with the key he'd given you. "rafe?" you called out, walking into the living room. "you here?" no response.

you furrowed your eyebrows, walking up the stairs. maybe he was just in his room, you thought, taking a nap or something. you creak open his bedroom door, met with the scene of him sitting on his bed, looking intently at his laptop.

his eyes shoot up to look at you and he slams his laptop closed, guilty look in his eye. you raise your eyebrows, "what were you doing?" you question him, walking toward the bed.

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, shaking his head. "nothin.'"

your eyes narrow, "were you watching porn?" you joke, sitting down next to him.

he sighs, "worse.." he trails off. he mentally debates for a minute, before pulling his laptop back into his lap, opening it slowly to reveal dress to impress on full display.

your hand shoots to cover your mouth, laugh escaping your lips anyway. all he does is glare at you, "this is your fucking fault."

you lean into him with a laugh, "I know I know, sorry. don't be embarrassed, rafe." you press a kiss to his lips.

as you kiss him, you can’t help but laugh again, glancing at his screen. "okay wait that's actually a cute outfit. you're getting good," you nudge him, "fashionista," you add quietly with a chuckle.

he looks at you straight-faced, "I'm only playing this dumbass game because you dragged me into it. i was just bored so,” he gestures to the screen.

“sure, rafe, whatever you say,” you tease, cuddling up beside him. "feel free to keep playing, don't stop at my expense."

he scoffs, but gives in and restarts the game.

you wrap your arm around his middle and watch as he puts together outfit after outfit, the grin rarely leaving your face.

you just love your little fashionista.

----

requests are OPEN 💌

[mrsstarkey1]

could be different - rafe cameron

a/n: new obx season ik thats righttt

// for the sake of story, sophia does not exist ! love her tho xo

// also so rusty guys if this is dogshit just tell me

summary: after the turtle incident at the beach, you have an unexpected conversation with rafe cameron

word count: 1.9k

obx masterlist

••

you stared out at the ocean, the waves rolling in steady and perfect. today felt different—like everything was lined up just right, the surf calling you louder than usual.

“yo, grab your board, let’s go,” jj said, practically bouncing with excitement.

you smiled and grabbed your hot pink surfboard from the sand, ready to join them in the water. just as you were about to run in, the low rumble of trucks caught your attention. three of them pulled onto the beach, kicking up sand. you already knew who it was.

being a former kook, you had a low tolerance for topper and kelce. rafe was another story—complicated—but you wouldn’t exactly call him your favorite person either.

the trucks drove by obnoxiously, the engines roaring louder than they needed to. you silently hoped they’d keep going. “please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” kie muttered beside you.

of course, topper’s truck swerved back around, kicking up more sand as it came to a stop. you sighed, hanging your head. this wasn’t going to end well.

topper strutted over to john b like he owned the beach, and the inevitable showdown started. you stayed back, sitting on the sand with your sunglasses on, doing your best to act like you didn’t care. you’d stopped getting involved in this pogue vs kook mess a long time ago. it only ever led to frustration.

your gaze drifted across the beach, settling—unintentionally—on rafe cameron. arguably the most annoying guy in north carolina. arrogant, reckless, always looking for a fight.

but hot damn was he fine.

you hoped your sunglasses hid your staring, but rafe’s eyes found yours anyway. for a moment, your gazes locked, tension hanging in the air. you forced yourself to look away, heart picking up its pace despite your best efforts.

rafe was bad news nowadays and you knew it. but no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, something always pulled you in.

jj’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “what are we all still standing around for? lets fucking surf!”

you catch a few waves, wiping out on the last one—not a bad fall, but enough to call it a day. you lug your board up to shore, tossing it down by your towel.

for a while, you lie back, soaking up the sun, drifting off in your own thoughts, completely unaware that rafe’s been watching you from across the beach.

later, as everyone’s packing the boards into the twinkie, the day feels like a huge success. kie slips the last board into place, and you all start piling into the van.

“guys,” kie suddenly exclaims, her voice high with excitement, “there’s a turtle hatch!”

you gasp and jump out of the van immediately, your eyes wide with excitement. together, you watch as dozens of baby turtles start their journey toward the sea, crawling through the sand.

“they’re so cute,” you smile, watching them with an almost childlike awe.

“so tiny,” sarah whispers, a grin spreading across her face.

“we gotta make a path for them,” john b says, already moving toward the turtles, clearing a way.

“yeah, turtle highway,” jj jokes, making you laugh as the group works together to make sure the turtles have a safe journey to the water.

but just as things feel perfect, you hear the distant rumble of an engine. your head whips around, spotting a truck tearing down the beach—straight toward you and the turtles.

“hey!” you scream, waving your arms wildly, trying to get their attention.

panic flashes through your group, everyone shouting and waving their arms, trying to make the truck stop.

“stop! there’s a hatch!” kie yells, her voice desperate.

the truck doesn’t slow down. if anything, it speeds up. your heart leaps into your throat as it barrels toward kie, who jumps out of the way at the last possible second.

“what the fuck?” you shout, your pulse racing.

the truck spins in the sand, kicking up dust and revving its engine. then, as if mocking you, someone throws a drink out the window, the liquid drenching you and kie.

“are you guys okay?” sarah rushes over, her face pale.

you nod, too angry to form words. kie runs to check on the turtles, kneeling down in the sand. her voice cracks as she picks up one of the tiny creatures, now lifeless. “no…”

you’re sick to your stomach. they think they own this place, think they can do whatever they want. but almost hitting kie? killing a defenseless baby turtle?

you take the turtle from kie, your hands practically trembling with rage. “what are you doing?” sarah asks, concern lacing her voice.

“enough is enough,” you mutter, storming across the beach.

jj trails behind loosely, always ready for confrontation.

“really, top?” you shout when you’re close enough, making the kooks turn toward you. “you almost killed kie. you feel good about that? still got that dumbass grin on your face?”

they all look at each other, unsure of how to react. topper shifts uncomfortably, trying to play it cool. “look, y/n, i get it—”

“no, you don’t,” you cut him off, holding up the tiny turtle for all of them to see. “look what you did.”

the group looks away, unable to face the damage they’ve caused.

“no, look at it,” you snap. “there was a turtle hatch, and you ran right over it. do you seriously think this is okay?”

no one answers.

ruthie speaks up, an obnoxious smile on her face. “it’s just one turtle. there’s like, a hundred of them.”

you whip your head toward her, fighting the urge to slap her, “yeah? why don’t i run you over with a truck then? there’s like a thousand bitchy kooks, right?”

topper scoffs, looking you up and down. “i don’t know why you’re acting all high and mighty, y/n. you’re just a wannabe pogue now, but deep down? you’ll always be one of us. a spoiled kook pretending to fit in.”

his words hit harder than you’d care to admit. you open your mouth to fire back, but before you can, rafe steps forward, jaw clenched.

“top, shut up.”

topper looks at rafe, surprised. “what, man? i’m just telling the truth.”

“let’s just go. not worth it,” rafe mutters, his voice low, turning away from the group.

you lock eyes with rafe for a brief second, your anger still simmering, but his quiet apology lingers in your mind. “just stay the fuck away from us,” you snap before turning on your heel, heading back to your friends.

even as you leave the scene behind, the interaction stays with you. topper’s words. rafe stepping in. it all plays on a loop in your mind, like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

the rest of the pogues decide to head back to meet pope, but you tell them you need some space, some time alone. the beach feels quieter now, just the waves and a few stragglers as the sun begins to set on the water.

you’re watching the water intently when a voice comes from behind you, “hey.”

you nearly jump, your heart pounding as you turn around. it’s rafe, standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets, a cautious look on his face.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice softer than usual. he glances at the ground for a second before looking back at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “look, um, about earlier…”

you cross your arms, your guard still up, but the way he’s standing there, almost unsure of himself, catches you off guard. rafe never looks unsure.

“the turtles, that was fucked,” he continues, his voice low. “i should’ve stopped it.”

you raise an eyebrow. “but you didn’t.”

“yeah.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i’m sorry.”

you don’t respond right away, the tension between you thick in the air. you can tell he’s waiting for something—for you to lash out, or maybe just get up and walk away. but for some reason, you stay. “you can sit, if you want,” you say.

he hesitates, and you think for a moment that he’ll just walk away. but no, he plops himself down right next to you.

you sit in silence for a few minutes, and to your surprise it’s not awkward silence. it’s comfortable. it reminds you of years ago when you considered rafe a friend.

what you say next shocks yourself, “i’m sorry about your dad, rafe. we haven’t really um- talked, since then.”

his eyes shoot over to you, clearly also surprised by your words. he clears his throat, “thanks,” he says softly, looking back out into the ocean.

you stare at him, taking in his features now that he’s sitting so close. the hard edge in his expression is gone, replaced by something softer. his eyes, normally sharp and guarded, are distant as they reflect the fading sunlight, a mix of blue and gray that you hadn’t noticed before. his jaw clenches, then relaxes, as if he’s holding back words he doesn’t quite know how to say.

“i didn’t really expect you to say that,” he admits, his voice low, almost lost in the sound of the waves.

“i didn’t expect to say it,” you reply, offering a small, unsure smile.

rafe turns his head slightly, looking at you now with an intensity that makes your heart skip. the cool, cocky demeanor you’re used to isn’t there. instead, he looks… real. vulnerable, even.

“you always were different from the rest of them,” he murmurs, as if to himself, his gaze lingering on your face. the compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget the mess of emotions surrounding everything that’s happened.

the air between you shifts, heavy with something unspoken, but it doesn’t feel suffocating. it feels like a thread connecting you both to a time before everything got complicated.

without really thinking, you reach over, your hand brushing against his. it’s subtle, just a light touch, but it’s enough. his hand turns over, palm up, and for the briefest second, you let your fingers rest there, feeling the warmth of his skin.

he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. “thanks for letting me sit,” he says quietly, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. you nod, words failing you for once.

you stare at him again; the sun catches in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that feels out of place, and you realize how easy it would be to fall into this moment, to let the history between you blur everything else.

but you know you can’t.

“you know,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, “my loyalty is always gonna be with the pogues.” you meet his gaze, making sure he knows you mean it. “that’s never gonna change.”

rafe looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then he nods, like he expected it but still needed to hear it. “yeah, i know,” he mutters, glancing down at where your fingers are still lightly brushing his hand. he doesn’t pull away, though. “doesn’t mean we can’t sit here and talk, right?”

you smile faintly, appreciating the honesty, the way he didn’t try to change your mind or make you feel like you had to choose between him and the people you care about. “no, it doesn’t.”

for a second, his face softens even more, like the weight of the world has been lifted, just for this fleeting moment between the two of you. and despite everything—despite the kooks and pogues, the drama and the history—sitting here next to him, watching the waves in comfortable silence, feels right in a way you can’t quite explain.

you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, rafe could be changing for the better.

••

requests are open 📩

[mrsstarkey1]

if i theoretically had a fic w rafe cameron based on the song “that would be enough” from hamilton should i post it 🤔🤔🤔🤔

i feel like it may be too niche

[mrsstarkey1]

could be different - rafe cameron

a/n: new obx season ik thats righttt

// for the sake of story, sophia does not exist ! love her tho xo

// also so rusty guys if this is dogshit just tell me

summary: after the turtle incident at the beach, you have an unexpected conversation with rafe cameron

word count: 1.9k

obx masterlist

••

you stared out at the ocean, the waves rolling in steady and perfect. today felt different—like everything was lined up just right, the surf calling you louder than usual.

“yo, grab your board, let’s go,” jj said, practically bouncing with excitement.

you smiled and grabbed your hot pink surfboard from the sand, ready to join them in the water. just as you were about to run in, the low rumble of trucks caught your attention. three of them pulled onto the beach, kicking up sand. you already knew who it was.

being a former kook, you had a low tolerance for topper and kelce. rafe was another story—complicated—but you wouldn’t exactly call him your favorite person either.

the trucks drove by obnoxiously, the engines roaring louder than they needed to. you silently hoped they’d keep going. “please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” kie muttered beside you.

of course, topper’s truck swerved back around, kicking up more sand as it came to a stop. you sighed, hanging your head. this wasn’t going to end well.

topper strutted over to john b like he owned the beach, and the inevitable showdown started. you stayed back, sitting on the sand with your sunglasses on, doing your best to act like you didn’t care. you’d stopped getting involved in this pogue vs kook mess a long time ago. it only ever led to frustration.

your gaze drifted across the beach, settling—unintentionally—on rafe cameron. arguably the most annoying guy in north carolina. arrogant, reckless, always looking for a fight.

but hot damn was he fine.

you hoped your sunglasses hid your staring, but rafe’s eyes found yours anyway. for a moment, your gazes locked, tension hanging in the air. you forced yourself to look away, heart picking up its pace despite your best efforts.

rafe was bad news nowadays and you knew it. but no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, something always pulled you in.

jj’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “what are we all still standing around for? lets fucking surf!”

you catch a few waves, wiping out on the last one—not a bad fall, but enough to call it a day. you lug your board up to shore, tossing it down by your towel.

for a while, you lie back, soaking up the sun, drifting off in your own thoughts, completely unaware that rafe’s been watching you from across the beach.

later, as everyone’s packing the boards into the twinkie, the day feels like a huge success. kie slips the last board into place, and you all start piling into the van.

“guys,” kie suddenly exclaims, her voice high with excitement, “there’s a turtle hatch!”

you gasp and jump out of the van immediately, your eyes wide with excitement. together, you watch as dozens of baby turtles start their journey toward the sea, crawling through the sand.

“they’re so cute,” you smile, watching them with an almost childlike awe.

“so tiny,” sarah whispers, a grin spreading across her face.

“we gotta make a path for them,” john b says, already moving toward the turtles, clearing a way.

“yeah, turtle highway,” jj jokes, making you laugh as the group works together to make sure the turtles have a safe journey to the water.

but just as things feel perfect, you hear the distant rumble of an engine. your head whips around, spotting a truck tearing down the beach—straight toward you and the turtles.

“hey!” you scream, waving your arms wildly, trying to get their attention.

panic flashes through your group, everyone shouting and waving their arms, trying to make the truck stop.

“stop! there’s a hatch!” kie yells, her voice desperate.

the truck doesn’t slow down. if anything, it speeds up. your heart leaps into your throat as it barrels toward kie, who jumps out of the way at the last possible second.

“what the fuck?” you shout, your pulse racing.

the truck spins in the sand, kicking up dust and revving its engine. then, as if mocking you, someone throws a drink out the window, the liquid drenching you and kie.

“are you guys okay?” sarah rushes over, her face pale.

you nod, too angry to form words. kie runs to check on the turtles, kneeling down in the sand. her voice cracks as she picks up one of the tiny creatures, now lifeless. “no…”

you’re sick to your stomach. they think they own this place, think they can do whatever they want. but almost hitting kie? killing a defenseless baby turtle?

you take the turtle from kie, your hands practically trembling with rage. “what are you doing?” sarah asks, concern lacing her voice.

“enough is enough,” you mutter, storming across the beach.

jj trails behind loosely, always ready for confrontation.

“really, top?” you shout when you’re close enough, making the kooks turn toward you. “you almost killed kie. you feel good about that? still got that dumbass grin on your face?”

they all look at each other, unsure of how to react. topper shifts uncomfortably, trying to play it cool. “look, y/n, i get it—”

“no, you don’t,” you cut him off, holding up the tiny turtle for all of them to see. “look what you did.”

the group looks away, unable to face the damage they’ve caused.

“no, look at it,” you snap. “there was a turtle hatch, and you ran right over it. do you seriously think this is okay?”

no one answers.

ruthie speaks up, an obnoxious smile on her face. “it’s just one turtle. there’s like, a hundred of them.”

you whip your head toward her, fighting the urge to slap her, “yeah? why don’t i run you over with a truck then? there’s like a thousand bitchy kooks, right?”

topper scoffs, looking you up and down. “i don’t know why you’re acting all high and mighty, y/n. you’re just a wannabe pogue now, but deep down? you’ll always be one of us. a spoiled kook pretending to fit in.”

his words hit harder than you’d care to admit. you open your mouth to fire back, but before you can, rafe steps forward, jaw clenched.

“top, shut up.”

topper looks at rafe, surprised. “what, man? i’m just telling the truth.”

“let’s just go. not worth it,” rafe mutters, his voice low, turning away from the group.

you lock eyes with rafe for a brief second, your anger still simmering, but his quiet apology lingers in your mind. “just stay the fuck away from us,” you snap before turning on your heel, heading back to your friends.

even as you leave the scene behind, the interaction stays with you. topper’s words. rafe stepping in. it all plays on a loop in your mind, like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

the rest of the pogues decide to head back to meet pope, but you tell them you need some space, some time alone. the beach feels quieter now, just the waves and a few stragglers as the sun begins to set on the water.

you’re watching the water intently when a voice comes from behind you, “hey.”

you nearly jump, your heart pounding as you turn around. it’s rafe, standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets, a cautious look on his face.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice softer than usual. he glances at the ground for a second before looking back at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “look, um, about earlier…”

you cross your arms, your guard still up, but the way he’s standing there, almost unsure of himself, catches you off guard. rafe never looks unsure.

“the turtles, that was fucked,” he continues, his voice low. “i should’ve stopped it.”

you raise an eyebrow. “but you didn’t.”

“yeah.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i’m sorry.”

you don’t respond right away, the tension between you thick in the air. you can tell he’s waiting for something—for you to lash out, or maybe just get up and walk away. but for some reason, you stay. “you can sit, if you want,” you say.

he hesitates, and you think for a moment that he’ll just walk away. but no, he plops himself down right next to you.

you sit in silence for a few minutes, and to your surprise it’s not awkward silence. it’s comfortable. it reminds you of years ago when you considered rafe a friend.

what you say next shocks yourself, “i’m sorry about your dad, rafe. we haven’t really um- talked, since then.”

his eyes shoot over to you, clearly also surprised by your words. he clears his throat, “thanks,” he says softly, looking back out into the ocean.

you stare at him, taking in his features now that he’s sitting so close. the hard edge in his expression is gone, replaced by something softer. his eyes, normally sharp and guarded, are distant as they reflect the fading sunlight, a mix of blue and gray that you hadn’t noticed before. his jaw clenches, then relaxes, as if he’s holding back words he doesn’t quite know how to say.

“i didn’t really expect you to say that,” he admits, his voice low, almost lost in the sound of the waves.

“i didn’t expect to say it,” you reply, offering a small, unsure smile.

rafe turns his head slightly, looking at you now with an intensity that makes your heart skip. the cool, cocky demeanor you’re used to isn’t there. instead, he looks… real. vulnerable, even.

“you always were different from the rest of them,” he murmurs, as if to himself, his gaze lingering on your face. the compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget the mess of emotions surrounding everything that’s happened.

the air between you shifts, heavy with something unspoken, but it doesn’t feel suffocating. it feels like a thread connecting you both to a time before everything got complicated.

without really thinking, you reach over, your hand brushing against his. it’s subtle, just a light touch, but it’s enough. his hand turns over, palm up, and for the briefest second, you let your fingers rest there, feeling the warmth of his skin.

he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. “thanks for letting me sit,” he says quietly, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. you nod, words failing you for once.

you stare at him again; the sun catches in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that feels out of place, and you realize how easy it would be to fall into this moment, to let the history between you blur everything else.

but you know you can’t.

“you know,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, “my loyalty is always gonna be with the pogues.” you meet his gaze, making sure he knows you mean it. “that’s never gonna change.”

rafe looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then he nods, like he expected it but still needed to hear it. “yeah, i know,” he mutters, glancing down at where your fingers are still lightly brushing his hand. he doesn’t pull away, though. “doesn’t mean we can’t sit here and talk, right?”

you smile faintly, appreciating the honesty, the way he didn’t try to change your mind or make you feel like you had to choose between him and the people you care about. “no, it doesn’t.”

for a second, his face softens even more, like the weight of the world has been lifted, just for this fleeting moment between the two of you. and despite everything—despite the kooks and pogues, the drama and the history—sitting here next to him, watching the waves in comfortable silence, feels right in a way you can’t quite explain.

you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, rafe could be changing for the better.

••

requests are open 📩

[mrsstarkey1]

new szn of obx means i have inspooo

fell off the face of the earth but i’m ready to write for my bby rafe!! and the other ones ig 😆

SEND REQUESTS!

here’s my obx masterlist in case u forgot

[mrsstarkey1]

AWWEEE thanks so much for including me 🥹🤗

𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝜈𝘰𝑢𝑟𝑖𝘵𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝘵𝑒𝑟𝑠.

TOP GUN.

@sometimesanalice

@roosterforme

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@hangmanssunnies

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@attapullman

@thewulf

@mothdruid

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@tip-top-cloud-surfer

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@writingdumpster

@foreverrandomwritings

OUTER BANKS.

@xveenusx

@moremaybank

@sevenwivesofrafecameron

@obxologies

@mrsstarkey1

@strstab

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@maybankswhore

@fandomxpreferences

@winchester-books

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@onsunnyside

@sunraies

@boneblushed

@hydrngea

THE WALKING DEAD.

@optimist-pine

@d1xonss

@weretheones

@cultofdixon

MARVEL.

@webslingingslasher

@waitimcomingtoo

@literalia

@cosmal

@luveline

@spiderfunkz

@mediocre-daydreams

@mvltisstuff

@chvoswxtch

@ohcaptains

@thyme-in-a-bubble

@violentdelightsandviolentends

@chellestrash

@gxtitobxby

@biblio-smia

BTS.

@onlyswan

@thvhoe

@gimmethatagustd

@jkstompers

@bratkook

@sxtaep

@jimilter

@whatifyoulivelikethat

@kimvvantae

@missgeniality

RED DEAD REDEMPTION.

@cowboydisaster

@twola

STRANGER THINGS.

@hungharrington

@appocalipse

@munsonsreputation

@lovebugism

@strangerstilinski

@taintedcigs

i LOVE all of these writers make sure you give their fics a read and show them some love!! if you want to be removed and want your fics to stop being recommend msg me :)

[mrsstarkey1]

soooo cutie

illicit affair [rc]

I pairing: (non canon) rafe cameron x female reader

I précis: keep your friends close and your enemies in your bed.

I content/warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol/being drunk, enemies to lovers/enemies with benefits, reader and rafe hate each other but are in the same friend group, allusions to sex, some angst, fluff

I word count: 8,422

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You breathe, stumbling over your words as Rafe’s lips move up your neck. 

“You say that every time baby.” He murmurs, his words vibrating on your neck. “But you know we’re not doing anything wrong.”

His lips catch on your jaw, lingering and leaving soft bites. His actions elicit a content sigh from your lips. 

Keep reading

[mrsstarkey1]

😚😚😚😚

initial - rafe cameron

not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me

summary: blurb inspired by the song call it what you want by taylor swift. requested by @rafeslovergirl

word count: 0.7k

warnings: none

“My baby’s fit like a daydream..” you sing not-so-quietly to yourself as you move around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for yours and Rafes breakfast.

Rafes eyes stay glued on you as you sing and subtly dance around the kitchen. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him that you’ve been singing the same song for nearly an hour, but he's far too infatuated by you to ever consider asking you to stop.

He gets up from his stool by the island swiftly, moving around the table to stand behind you. Wrapping his arms around you loosely, he presses a kiss to your neck, just above the fabric of his t-shirt you were wearing. You lean back into him with a giggle, continuing to hum the same tune as you crack an egg over the skillet.

"What's that song you've been singing all day?" Rafe finally gives in and asks you, mumbling the question into your skin. 

You smile a little, tilting your head up to look at him. "Call it what you want by Taylor Swift, it's been stuck in my head for days. Are you asking because you like it?" you ask with a smirk, fully knowing Rafe's music taste is definitely not Taylor Swift.

Rafe gives you a look, "not particularly. I was just wondering what song I've been listening to you sing all morning," he said with a small smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.

You smile into the kiss, only breaking free when the eggs start to make a sizzling sound. "You should listen to the song though, it's really good," you add in a somewhat joking tone, as you move the eggs onto two plates.

Rafe simply hums in response. He tightens his arms around you for a moment before stepping back and moving to one of the cabinets to grab some salt and pepper, helping you with breakfast. 

As you eat together at the kitchen table and make plans for the day, Rafe makes a mental note to listen to ‘call it what you want’, later. 

—

The next day, you're tangled together with Rafe in his bed watching TV- well, kind of watching TV. 

“I have something to give you,” Rafe mumbles against your lips, pressing one last lazy kiss to your face before pulling himself off the bed.

You groan a little at the sudden loss of contact, leaning back against your pillow with a sigh. “What’s the occasion?” you ask, curiosity evident in your voice.

"No occasion," he says, smiling a little to himself as he pulls a small velvet box out of a bag in the corner of his room.

You sit up against the headboard, legs crossed and anxiously awaiting this mystery gift. You watch him intently as he smiles widely until he reaches the bed, sitting down so his body is facing toward you. He holds out the box for you to take, an excited glimmer in his eyes. 

You examine the black velvet box for a second, the Cartier label not going unnoticed by you. “This is so expensive, Rafe. Did I forget an anniversary or something?” you ask with a slight laugh, grabbing your phone to check the date. 

Rafe smiles and shakes his head, grabbing the phone from you. “No, no anniversary. Just wanted to do something nice for my girl. Open it,” he pleads impatiently, placing the box in your hands. 

“Okay, okay,” you say with a chuckle, undoing the ribbon around the box. When you open the lid, your eyes immediately shoot up to meet Rafes. “You didn’t…” 

“Do you like it?” he asks softly, wide smile playing on his lips as he sees the answer in your expression. 

You nod intently, too distracted by the shiny gold to form any words. You pull the necklace out of the box, holding it up in the light. You trace your thumb over the gold ‘R’ hanging on the chain with a beaming smile. 

Gaze moving back to his face, your suspicion is confirmed. He listened to the song.

“Because you own me?” you ask with a knowing smile. 

He grins and shakes his head, “nope, because I really know you.”

taglist(lmk if u want added!) @rafes-bae @willowpains @housekeeperjjswife @addisbooks @sofiatheseconf @rafecameronsofine @rosie-anne

REQUESTS OPEN!

check out my obx masterlist || latest rafe fic

follow me & reblog my posts and i’ll do the same for u!!

[mrsstarkey1]

June fic recs <3

These are some fics I've enjoyed reading this month! You can find more fics I've loved under the tag "edith's fic recs! 🪄"

DREW STARKEY

kinda famous by @runningfrom2am

amicable by @starkeystar

mastermind by @mrsstarkey1

all the girls you loved before by @maybankslover

red carpet preparations by @dlwritings

new addition by @totalswag

RAFE CAMERON

butterflies (series) by @surftrips

I think I found the love of my life by @maybankslover

I haven't read many fics as of now, but these are some I read and absolutely loved!! Support all these lovely authors and don't forget to like and/or reblog their content if you enjoy it :) <3

[mrsstarkey1]

BESTIE DID IT AGAIN!!! go read rn.

it’s nice to have a friend

a/n : it’s finally here! perfect pick part 2!!! sososososo sorry for the wait. irl stuff got in the way of me working on this. again. severely unedited. sorry 🫣

notes : fic can be read as a one shot or connected to perfect pick 2. part 3 tbd. this one is full of rafe fluff!

summary : maybe rafe was a little bit more than just ur best friends brother.

part one | series masterlist | masterlist

there was a period of time between your tenth birthday and your eleventh where you and rafe were actually friends. real friends. almost comparable to the way you and sarah were.

——

for some reason sleep feels impossible tonight. even though sarah’s deep into her oblivion. even though her ceiling is darkened and even though the room is quiet save for the gentle ticking of the alarm clock on her nightstand.

you decide to blame it on thirst, pulling yourself out of your sleeping bag and carefully slipinhg out her bedroom while walking on the tips of your toes.

you’re familar with the layout of tannyhill. It’s practically been your second home ever since you were born. you’ve had hundreds of sleepovers with sarah and spent many holidays with the cameron’s; your families were just so close.

you make your way towards their kitchen and startle a little when you realize someone else is there,too. you still suck at reading manual clocks but you guess that it’s sometime after midnight.

“ah!” you yelp and the person turns around while agressivly shushing you.

“why are you screaming?” rafe whisper yells as he sets a pint of ice cream onto the island.

“you scared me.” you respond with a much quieter tone, looking down at your feet and avoiding eye contact.

you hear a snicker come from him, “are you wearing unicorn pajamas? aren’t you ten?”

you wrap your arms over your chest, insecurely covering up the horn of the large creature printed into your nightgown.

“isn’t it too late at night to be eating ice cream?” yoy quip back.

rafe gestures to the clock on the wall beside him. “isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“isn’t it past yours?”

you can faintly tell that he rolls his eyes at that, and he brings a spoonful of ice cream up to his lips.

“what flavor it that?” you question, approaching his spot behind the island.

his voice is muffled due to the ice scream still melting in his mouth, “didn’t you say it’s too late to be eating ice cream right now?”

“i’m just asking what flavor, rafe.”

he’s quiet for a moment before responding with a sigh. “chocolate.”

he tells you because he knows it’s your favorite. you’re a chocolate girl through and through- it was the flavor of your birthday cake at your party a couple of weeks ago, as it had been for all your previous birthdays before.

your eyes light up and his chest swells in a weird way he puts off as a delayed brain freeze. “can i have a bite?”

to your surprise he says yes, pulling out a spoon from the drawer besides him and handing it to you. he holds the pint close to you so you can take a scoop, and just when the metal of the utensil touches the cold desert he raises the container up so you can’t reach it.

he’s only a year older than you, but even the slight difference makes him a whole lot taller than you. you hop and chase him all around the kitchen in attempt to retrieve the ice cream and it makes you so angry that he’s having fun in your suffering; almost as much as it makes you feel like you’re gonna melt because he’s having fun. with you.

you let out a huff and stop your chasing, and he finally walks back towards you and let’s you have the pint.

You snatch it out of his grasp, making your way to the kitchen stools with him following closely behind you. he brings his spoon too, and you roll your eyes when he nudges you for some more of the ice cream. you tilt the container in your hands towards him and he digs into it once more.

The lopsided smile he sends you in response is enough to freeze your heart and melt any annoyance you felt towards him.

—————————-

you knuckles rap against his bedroom door. the same pattern as you’ve been doing for the past 4 months, sneaking out of sarah’s bright pink bedroom and into rafes contrasting blue.

he lets you in and you find solace ontop of his large gaming chair, having unofficially claimed it as your own. rafe let’s you take over it without complaint, lately opting to to settle beside the wall across from you instead of his own seat.

you get tossed a dvd case and you barely catch it. your eyes graze over the cover and take in the title. you let out a huff, “why do we always watch the movie you choose?”

rafe pauses for a split second before responding.

“but it’s the dark knight.”

you throw the case back at him, the plastic hitting his arm. “ouch.” rafe mutters, rubbing at the aggictated skin.

“this is a boy movie.”

he snorts. “i’m a boy.”

you cross your arms over your chest. “i’m not.”

it’s true, he always manages to convince you to watch what he picks out. but the dark knight is the best action movie ever. can’t you just let it slide one last time?

you glare at him and rafe relents, as he always does when it comes to you. he lets out a sigh and slides his box full of dvds towards you. “fine. find an alternative.”

it seems like you know exactly which movie you want to watch. you pull it out and feed it into the dvd player, grinning.

“we’re not watching it.”

“why? are you too scared, rafey?”

He scoots on the floor closer next to you. “No. Its just a stupid movie.”

You giggle, pulling his blanket off his bed and wrapping it around your torso. “You’re just a scary cat.” You shrug.

“am not.”

“are too.”

rafe sucks in a tense breath. he knows he can’t get out of this.

“turn it on?”

“are you sure you won’t pee your pants, rafey.”

he reaches forward and grabs the tv remote, clicking the play button.

(surprisingly, rafe proved you wrong. he did not pee his pants. even if there were multiple close calls. you guys made it to the movie without any accidents, somehow shuffled close together and sharing the same navy throw blanket; a comforting warmth shared between the two as he falls asleep with his cheek on your shoulder. his mother catches the two of you in the morning. snaps a picture with her phone without saying anything, and retreating back to her bedroom with a smile spread across her face)

——-

whenever you had sleepovers at the cameron’s, you’d always be the first one up. even if you were the last one asleep.

okay. you were the second one up, after mrs. cameron.

you had an unspoken sleepover routine. you’d usually be up by seven thirty, and there’d be pancake batter on the griddle for you starting at seven fifteen; always the first to enjoy a fresh stack of mrs.cameron’s signature blueberry pancakes.

you shut the door to sarah’s room, rubbing your eyes as you shuffled towards the kitchen.

“morning, mrs. cameron.” you greet while stifling a yawn. you blink a couple times, adjusting to the absurdly bright room.

it’s not mrs. cameron in the kitchen. instead, you’re met with rafe behind the island, again. pouring whole milk into a bowl of cereal.

“moms still asleep.” he says, words rough on the edges.

you don’t respond, opting to climb onto one of the island stools in silence. you watch his brow furrow as he making sure the perfect ratio of milk falls into his breakfast. the feature is similar to the way his mother forhead wrinkles while she meticulously pours a ladle full of bluberry batter onto the griddle.

“what cereal?” you mumble, shifting so your hands settle between the seat and your legs.

rafe tightens the cap of the milk, then shoved it back into the kitchen aid fridge. “pebbles.”

you open your mouth to ask about the flavor, but he responds before anything comes out.

“cocoa pebbles. you want some?”

you nod, begining to pull yourself off the stool so you can make yourself a bowl. but instead, he pushes his bowl towards you.

“have it. i’ll make another.” he offers with a tight lipped smile.

“thanks,” your heart stutters at the gesture. you take the spoon and swirl the cereal around so the milk can become chocolatey. you take a sip of it, enjoying the sweetness on your tongue.

he makes himself another bowl and brings it to the stool besides you.

“why are you up so early?” you question while he settles onto the seat and he shrugs.

“i guess i just wanted to see you before you left.”

the words almost make you choke on your cocoa puffs, the milk almost pouring out your nostrils. you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“you really wanted to be blessed with my obnoxious presence this early in the morning?”

“i don’t think you’re obnoxious, y/n.” rafe confesses, voice quiet as if he wanted you to be the only one to hear.

suddenly, it felt like the necklace which laid under your pajamas was burning a hole on your neck. you pull it out and start playing with its pendent in between your thumb and your index finger.

“i don’t think you’re obnoxious either.” you say, because you don’t know what else would be right to say in the moment. he looks expectantly at you with a soft gaze, eyes flickering from your own iris’s to the silver chain you’ve exposed. his lips curve into a smile which mirrors your own.

“yeah?”

“yea.” you confirm, tilting your head towards him with a brightening smile before looking back down at your bowl of now soggy cereal.

“yeah.” he breathes again, bringing his spoon up to his lips to take a bite of his breakfast.

you two remain smiling, even after you’ve departed from tannyhill.

————-

taglist (let me know if u want to be added or removed!)

tagging those who asked to be tagged in part 2 @kkmstblog @spicykimchiiii @whore4drew @diorgirl444 @outerbankspov @maybankslover @writtenwordslover @drewstarkeyirlgf @vert-pomme @octaviareina @everythingmarveltopgun @hangmanshomecoming @fallingwallsh @millies0bsimp @pickingviolets @fulla02 @denise417 @mad-die45 @callsignwidow @leclerc16s @yomnajir @ash5monster01 @spear-bearing-bi-witch @grxcisxhy-wp @iluvpills @user09 @cat-or-kitten @bellstwd @mrsstarkey1 @illicitfixations @willowpains @penny4yourthoughts @book-place @sangytv @sweetestdesire @mvybanks @rafesmoon @a-aexotic

reblog + comment and i’ll do the same for you <333

[mrsstarkey1]

thank u for tagging me girl!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Hello! I just wanted to say how much I love your quiting for rafe and was wondering if you could give me some acct reccs bc I need more...ily bye

hi love, thank you so much for reading my fics 💗💗

here are some of my favorite blogs that write for rafe !!

- @onsunnyside <3

- @folkloreslovechild <3

- @novxturient <3

- @mrsstarkey1 <3

- @mvybanks <3

- @glodessa <3

- @bussyslayer333 <3

[mrsstarkey1]

AW STOP UR THE SWEETEST 🥹 thanks so much for the reblog and kind words !!

initial - rafe cameron

not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me

summary: blurb inspired by the song call it what you want by taylor swift. requested by @rafeslovergirl

word count: 0.7k

warnings: none

“My baby’s fit like a daydream..” you sing not-so-quietly to yourself as you move around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for yours and Rafes breakfast.

Rafes eyes stay glued on you as you sing and subtly dance around the kitchen. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him that you’ve been singing the same song for nearly an hour, but he's far too infatuated by you to ever consider asking you to stop.

He gets up from his stool by the island swiftly, moving around the table to stand behind you. Wrapping his arms around you loosely, he presses a kiss to your neck, just above the fabric of his t-shirt you were wearing. You lean back into him with a giggle, continuing to hum the same tune as you crack an egg over the skillet.

"What's that song you've been singing all day?" Rafe finally gives in and asks you, mumbling the question into your skin. 

You smile a little, tilting your head up to look at him. "Call it what you want by Taylor Swift, it's been stuck in my head for days. Are you asking because you like it?" you ask with a smirk, fully knowing Rafe's music taste is definitely not Taylor Swift.

Rafe gives you a look, "not particularly. I was just wondering what song I've been listening to you sing all morning," he said with a small smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.

You smile into the kiss, only breaking free when the eggs start to make a sizzling sound. "You should listen to the song though, it's really good," you add in a somewhat joking tone, as you move the eggs onto two plates.

Rafe simply hums in response. He tightens his arms around you for a moment before stepping back and moving to one of the cabinets to grab some salt and pepper, helping you with breakfast. 

As you eat together at the kitchen table and make plans for the day, Rafe makes a mental note to listen to ‘call it what you want’, later. 

—

The next day, you're tangled together with Rafe in his bed watching TV- well, kind of watching TV. 

“I have something to give you,” Rafe mumbles against your lips, pressing one last lazy kiss to your face before pulling himself off the bed.

You groan a little at the sudden loss of contact, leaning back against your pillow with a sigh. “What’s the occasion?” you ask, curiosity evident in your voice.

"No occasion," he says, smiling a little to himself as he pulls a small velvet box out of a bag in the corner of his room.

You sit up against the headboard, legs crossed and anxiously awaiting this mystery gift. You watch him intently as he smiles widely until he reaches the bed, sitting down so his body is facing toward you. He holds out the box for you to take, an excited glimmer in his eyes. 

You examine the black velvet box for a second, the Cartier label not going unnoticed by you. “This is so expensive, Rafe. Did I forget an anniversary or something?” you ask with a slight laugh, grabbing your phone to check the date. 

Rafe smiles and shakes his head, grabbing the phone from you. “No, no anniversary. Just wanted to do something nice for my girl. Open it,” he pleads impatiently, placing the box in your hands. 

“Okay, okay,” you say with a chuckle, undoing the ribbon around the box. When you open the lid, your eyes immediately shoot up to meet Rafes. “You didn’t…” 

“Do you like it?” he asks softly, wide smile playing on his lips as he sees the answer in your expression. 

You nod intently, too distracted by the shiny gold to form any words. You pull the necklace out of the box, holding it up in the light. You trace your thumb over the gold ‘R’ hanging on the chain with a beaming smile. 

Gaze moving back to his face, your suspicion is confirmed. He listened to the song.

“Because you own me?” you ask with a knowing smile. 

He grins and shakes his head, “nope, because I really know you.”

taglist(lmk if u want added!) @rafes-bae @willowpains @housekeeperjjswife @addisbooks @sofiatheseconf @rafecameronsofine @rosie-anne

REQUESTS OPEN!

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[mrsstarkey1]

Hey! I’ve been inactive af w everyone recently so I feel like meeting some new people idk anyways hey! How are you today? I love love loveeee your work

heyyy!!!

sorry it took me a minute to reply to this! thanks sm for reaching out <3 i’ve been SO inactive too so i feel u. i’m good today just so busy w school and work haha!! message me to chat more if u want 💗

[mrsstarkey1]

#self plug !

carnival

request: “can i request something super fluffy with rafe?” by @lanadelreyfan16

summary: rafe takes you to the carnival to cheer you up

word count: 1.5k

notes: rafe cameron x reader, rafe lowkey ooc

—

“rafe, where are we going?” you ask for the millionth time, leaning your head back against the headrest dramatically.

“you’ll see,” he says simply, a smile playing on his lips; one that you can’t see because of the piece of fabric covering your eyes.

you let out a long sigh and you hear him chuckle lightly. you let your own lips twitch into a smile at the sound, excitement bubbling in your chest as you wonder where rafe could possibly be taking you.

this past week, you’d been sort of out of it, in a funk. you were exhausted all the time, emotionally and physically drained from school, work, and just life in general. you tried to not let it show, but rafe noticed almost immediately. so lately, he’d been by your side at all times, just making sure that you were okay.

this morning, he’d woken up earlier than normal, awaking you by pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “what’s goin’ on?” you mumbled, forcing your eyes open.

“nothin, baby. i’m just going out for a bit, just wanted to let you know i was leaving. i’ve got a surprise for you later,” he whispered, with a grin you could only vaguely see through your tired eyes.

“mhmm, can’t wait,” you murmured lazily.

rafe smiled, leaning down to press a short kiss to your lips. “i’ll see you soon. i love you.”

about an hour after you���d woken up today, you had been laying in your bed watching tv when rafe facetimed you. you answered immediately, and were met with rafe’s grinning face on the screen. he simply said, “get ready. i’m picking you up in 10,” before hanging up.

then you texted him - omg rafe. what do i wear??

he’d responded with - something comfortable

you’d scoffed at the vague response, but couldn’t fight the excited smile from spreading on your face - the first genuine smile you’d smiled in awhile. you changed quickly into jean shorts and a cropped tank top that you knew rafe just loved. finally dressed in real clothes for the first time this week, you already felt better.

rafe’s truck came to a stop after about 10 minutes. “we’re here,” he breathed out, a nervous undertone in his voice.

“yay,” you say quickly, unbuckling your seatbelt. “can i take the blindfold off?” you plead, turning your body toward him.

“no,” he says simply, and you hear his door open. you sigh, leaning back in the seat. in just a moment, rafe is at your door, opening it quickly and grabbing your arms to guide you out of the car.

your feet hit the ground and you’re immediately confused. it’s not concrete, you can tell. grass, maybe? “rafe, where are we?” you whine out, impatience coming to the surface.

rafe let’s out a hearty laugh that you can feel coming from his chest as you lean into him as you walk. “you’ll see, baby. doesn’t this make it more fun though?” he asks proudly.

“i guess,” you mumble, focusing on your steps so you don’t fall. you’d never been a coordinated person. which is precisely why rafes hands are placed tightly on your shoulders as he guides you to wherever the hell you’re going.

rafe suddenly comes to a stop, and you can hear people talking and laughing a little distantly in front of you. rafes hands move from your shoulders, and you can sense him moving around to face you. “okay, you ready?” he asks knowingly.

you nod quickly, muttering a soft “duh.” rafes hands go to the sides of your blindfold, gently pulling it up and off your head, letting you see his smirking face. your eyes stay on his for a moment, a smile starting on your face. your gaze shifts to behind rafe, landing on a big flashing sign that read, “carnival”

your mouth drops open, and your eyes glance around excitedly at all the carnival rides, food trucks and games. rafe watches you intently, awaiting verbal confirmation that you like the surprise. you meet his eyes after a moment. “i didn’t even know there was a carnival in town,” you said with a smile. “this is so great, rafe,” you added, taking a step forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

rafe let’s a relieved smile take over his expression, and his eyes light up looking down at you. "you really like the surprise?" he asks, proud smile indicating he knows your answer. you simply nod and tilt your head up to bring your lips together for a short kiss. "let's go get a funnel cake," you mutter against his lips.

you drag rafe around the carnival grounds, hand laced with his as you walk around enthusiastically like a child in a candy store. "look, rafe! that game has those big teddy bears as prizes," you say giddily, pointing at the one of the game booths.

rafe smiles at your pure excitement over a giant teddy bear, "let's go play," he says, leading you this time. rafe greets the man running the game, handing him some tickets that he’d purchased earlier in exchange for some metal darts. “you wanna try?” rafe asks you, holding out a handful of darts to you.

you nod, taking a few from him. you play for a bit, but you can’t seem to make more than 2 in a row to get the big prize.

“god damnit,” you groan in frustration as the dart you threw misses the balloon and falls to the ground. “I can’t get it,” you sigh dramatically, looking at rafe with a dramatic frown.

rafe returns your expression, “let me try it, baby,” he says, pressing a short kiss to your temple.

you hand him a dart, and watch lovingly as he focuses on pulling his arm back just right. when he releases the dart, your eyes linger on him as his features tense, waiting to see if he hit the balloon. your gaze is only pulled from him when you hear the deafening pop.

rafes eyes widen, and he lets a smile develop on his features, turning his head to direct it toward you.

“we have a winner!!” the man in the booth announces enthusiastically, ringing a bell in his hand.

“no way! you did it,” you say with a giddy smile, quickly wrapping your arms around him for a tight hug.

he chuckles into your shoulder, “well don’t sound so surprised.”

rafe reaches his hand that is not wrapped around your back out to grab the teddy bear, but you beat him too it. you pull it close to your chest, an ear to ear smile on your face - one that rafe could look at for hours.

“thank you,” you say with a giggle, pulling rafe back in for an embrace. his arms tighten around you, uncontrollable smile plastered on his face.

“can we go on the ferris wheel now?” you crane your neck up to ask him, pleading smile on your face, (though you don’t really need to do more than say the word for him to do anything for you.)

rafe smiles down at you, “course we can. don’t know if they’ll let you bring that on there, though,” he jokes, gesturing to the stuffed animal in your arms.

“i’m not gonna take no for an answer,” you say with a smile, clutching the bear in your arms as you begin to walk toward the ferris wheel.

after waiting in an annoyingly long line, you, rafe, and your teddy bear all get into one of the ferris wheel capsules.

you lean into his chest as the ferris wheel starts to move, letting out a breath as you take in the view. you can’t help but notice that off feeling you’d been feeling for the past week, that weight on your chest, that exhaustion, was all gone.

“thank you, rafe,” you say, just as you hit the top of the ferris wheel.

rafe shifts toward you, “for what? the bear?” he asks with a grin.

you smile, glancing down at the stuffed animal. “no. well, yes, that too. but i mean thank you for bringing me here, and for being here for me this past week,” you say softly, turning to face him. “i know i haven’t been the most pleasant to be around,” you add with a small laugh.

rafe grins, shaking his head a little. “i always enjoy being around you, y/n. i just hated seeing you not feel like yourself. i’m glad this helped though, you seem happier,” he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder tightly.

you nod and smile, “i feel a million times better. all because of you, baby,” you say, leaning in closer to him to press your lips to his. you feel rafe smile into the kiss, and his hand move to the back of your head to pull you closer.

you pull apart only to take a breath, resting your forehead against his. “i really like that bear too,” you whisper, “i think he might take your side of the bed.”

rafe raises his eyebrow, “i’m gonna have to throw him off of this ferris wheel.”

taglist(lmk if you want added!): @willowpains @rafes-bae @housekeeperjjswife @addisbooks @sofiatheseconf @rafecameronsofine @rosie-anne

check out my obx masterlist + most recent fic

REQUESTS OPEN!!

if you follow me & reblog my posts i’ll do the same for u !!

[mrsstarkey1]

carnival

request: “can i request something super fluffy with rafe?” by @lanadelreyfan16

summary: rafe takes you to the carnival to cheer you up

word count: 1.5k

notes: rafe cameron x reader, rafe lowkey ooc

—

“rafe, where are we going?” you ask for the millionth time, leaning your head back against the headrest dramatically.

“you’ll see,” he says simply, a smile playing on his lips; one that you can’t see because of the piece of fabric covering your eyes.

you let out a long sigh and you hear him chuckle lightly. you let your own lips twitch into a smile at the sound, excitement bubbling in your chest as you wonder where rafe could possibly be taking you.

this past week, you’d been sort of out of it, in a funk. you were exhausted all the time, emotionally and physically drained from school, work, and just life in general. you tried to not let it show, but rafe noticed almost immediately. so lately, he’d been by your side at all times, just making sure that you were okay.

this morning, he’d woken up earlier than normal, awaking you by pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “what’s goin’ on?” you mumbled, forcing your eyes open.

“nothin, baby. i’m just going out for a bit, just wanted to let you know i was leaving. i’ve got a surprise for you later,” he whispered, with a grin you could only vaguely see through your tired eyes.

“mhmm, can’t wait,” you murmured lazily.

rafe smiled, leaning down to press a short kiss to your lips. “i’ll see you soon. i love you.”

about an hour after you’d woken up today, you had been laying in your bed watching tv when rafe facetimed you. you answered immediately, and were met with rafe’s grinning face on the screen. he simply said, “get ready. i’m picking you up in 10,” before hanging up.

then you texted him - omg rafe. what do i wear??

he’d responded with - something comfortable

you’d scoffed at the vague response, but couldn’t fight the excited smile from spreading on your face - the first genuine smile you’d smiled in awhile. you changed quickly into jean shorts and a cropped tank top that you knew rafe just loved. finally dressed in real clothes for the first time this week, you already felt better.

rafe’s truck came to a stop after about 10 minutes. “we’re here,” he breathed out, a nervous undertone in his voice.

“yay,” you say quickly, unbuckling your seatbelt. “can i take the blindfold off?” you plead, turning your body toward him.

“no,” he says simply, and you hear his door open. you sigh, leaning back in the seat. in just a moment, rafe is at your door, opening it quickly and grabbing your arms to guide you out of the car.

your feet hit the ground and you’re immediately confused. it’s not concrete, you can tell. grass, maybe? “rafe, where are we?” you whine out, impatience coming to the surface.

rafe let’s out a hearty laugh that you can feel coming from his chest as you lean into him as you walk. “you’ll see, baby. doesn’t this make it more fun though?” he asks proudly.

“i guess,” you mumble, focusing on your steps so you don’t fall. you’d never been a coordinated person. which is precisely why rafes hands are placed tightly on your shoulders as he guides you to wherever the hell you’re going.

rafe suddenly comes to a stop, and you can hear people talking and laughing a little distantly in front of you. rafes hands move from your shoulders, and you can sense him moving around to face you. “okay, you ready?” he asks knowingly.

you nod quickly, muttering a soft “duh.” rafes hands go to the sides of your blindfold, gently pulling it up and off your head, letting you see his smirking face. your eyes stay on his for a moment, a smile starting on your face. your gaze shifts to behind rafe, landing on a big flashing sign that read, “carnival”

your mouth drops open, and your eyes glance around excitedly at all the carnival rides, food trucks and games. rafe watches you intently, awaiting verbal confirmation that you like the surprise. you meet his eyes after a moment. “i didn’t even know there was a carnival in town,” you said with a smile. “this is so great, rafe,” you added, taking a step forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

rafe let’s a relieved smile take over his expression, and his eyes light up looking down at you. "you really like the surprise?" he asks, proud smile indicating he knows your answer. you simply nod and tilt your head up to bring your lips together for a short kiss. "let's go get a funnel cake," you mutter against his lips.

you drag rafe around the carnival grounds, hand laced with his as you walk around enthusiastically like a child in a candy store. "look, rafe! that game has those big teddy bears as prizes," you say giddily, pointing at the one of the game booths.

rafe smiles at your pure excitement over a giant teddy bear, "let's go play," he says, leading you this time. rafe greets the man running the game, handing him some tickets that he’d purchased earlier in exchange for some metal darts. “you wanna try?” rafe asks you, holding out a handful of darts to you.

you nod, taking a few from him. you play for a bit, but you can’t seem to make more than 2 in a row to get the big prize.

“god damnit,” you groan in frustration as the dart you threw misses the balloon and falls to the ground. “I can’t get it,” you sigh dramatically, looking at rafe with a dramatic frown.

rafe returns your expression, “let me try it, baby,” he says, pressing a short kiss to your temple.

you hand him a dart, and watch lovingly as he focuses on pulling his arm back just right. when he releases the dart, your eyes linger on him as his features tense, waiting to see if he hit the balloon. your gaze is only pulled from him when you hear the deafening pop.

rafes eyes widen, and he lets a smile develop on his features, turning his head to direct it toward you.

“we have a winner!!” the man in the booth announces enthusiastically, ringing a bell in his hand.

“no way! you did it,” you say with a giddy smile, quickly wrapping your arms around him for a tight hug.

he chuckles into your shoulder, “well don’t sound so surprised.”

rafe reaches his hand that is not wrapped around your back out to grab the teddy bear, but you beat him too it. you pull it close to your chest, an ear to ear smile on your face - one that rafe could look at for hours.

“thank you,” you say with a giggle, pulling rafe back in for an embrace. his arms tighten around you, uncontrollable smile plastered on his face.

“can we go on the ferris wheel now?” you crane your neck up to ask him, pleading smile on your face, (though you don’t really need to do more than say the word for him to do anything for you.)

rafe smiles down at you, “course we can. don’t know if they’ll let you bring that on there, though,” he jokes, gesturing to the stuffed animal in your arms.

“i’m not gonna take no for an answer,” you say with a smile, clutching the bear in your arms as you begin to walk toward the ferris wheel.

after waiting in an annoyingly long line, you, rafe, and your teddy bear all get into one of the ferris wheel capsules.

you lean into his chest as the ferris wheel starts to move, letting out a breath as you take in the view. you can’t help but notice that off feeling you’d been feeling for the past week, that weight on your chest, that exhaustion, was all gone.

“thank you, rafe,” you say, just as you hit the top of the ferris wheel.

rafe shifts toward you, “for what? the bear?” he asks with a grin.

you smile, glancing down at the stuffed animal. “no. well, yes, that too. but i mean thank you for bringing me here, and for being here for me this past week,” you say softly, turning to face him. “i know i haven’t been the most pleasant to be around,” you add with a small laugh.

rafe grins, shaking his head a little. “i always enjoy being around you, y/n. i just hated seeing you not feel like yourself. i’m glad this helped though, you seem happier,” he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder tightly.

you nod and smile, “i feel a million times better. all because of you, baby,” you say, leaning in closer to him to press your lips to his. you feel rafe smile into the kiss, and his hand move to the back of your head to pull you closer.

you pull apart only to take a breath, resting your forehead against his. “i really like that bear too,” you whisper, “i think he might take your side of the bed.”

rafe raises his eyebrow, “i’m gonna have to throw him off of this ferris wheel.”

taglist(lmk if you want added!): @willowpains @rafes-bae @housekeeperjjswife @addisbooks @sofiatheseconf @rafecameronsofine @rosie-anne

check out my obx masterlist + most recent fic

REQUESTS OPEN!!

if you follow me & reblog my posts i’ll do the same for u !!