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[osterfieldshollandgirl]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: after years together, you and drew have taken a step back to reassess your relationship while co-parenting your two-year-old daughter. It was drew’s suggestion to take time apart—a difficult decision he made in the hopes of gaining clarity. at first, you were fine with it, even convinced it was the right move. but as days turned into months, whispers of drew’s involvement with another woman start to surface, turning your emotional separation into something far more painful. torn between love, fear, and pride, you give him an ultimatum; either he returns home, or this separation becomes permanent. as both of you face hard truths, the love that you share may be the one thing that holds everything together.

warning(s): mentions of co-parenting struggles and relationship separation, emotional conflict and internal turmoil, angst with a hopeful resolution, soft cursing, miscommunication.

au’s: like, reblog and feedbacks are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @enjoymyloves @akobx @rubixgsworld @xoxohoneymoongirl @mileyraes @maybankslover @noobmazter69 @littlelamy @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry @bisexualcvnt @stuffyownswrld @anamiad00msday

You’re sitting on the couch, absently scrolling through your phone, but your mind is elsewhere. Your thoughts keep circling back to the one person you’ve been avoiding thinking too much about—Drew.

It’s was Drew idea that he wanted to separate for “awhile”. You didn’t fight it at first, even if the request had left you reeling. He needed space, time away from the constant strain of co-parenting and the pressures of work, and you told yourself you could handle it. After all, you needed the space, too. The nights of quiet arguments about whose turn it was to change a diaper, the unspoken resentment that built up over Drew’s erratic work schedule, and the loss of who you were as a couple had driven a wedge between you that neither of you seemed to know how to fix. The idea of stepping back, of giving yourselves room to breathe, felt like a reasonable step. Logical, even.

But no amount of logic could prepare you for the growing ache that came with his absence.

At first, the space had been a relief, allowing you to able to reset and focus on yourself. But then the days grew longer, lonelier. Drew still came by to pick up your daughter for the weekend, still texted you updates and occasionally asked about how you were doing. But those exchanges felt hollow, void of the warmth that had once been a constant between you. He was physically present for your daughter, but emotionally, he felt miles away.

And now… the rumors. You hadn’t wanted to believe them when you first heard them. Drew had been spotted with another woman—a few times, your friend casually mentioned. You laughed it off at first, chalking it up to idle gossip, something blown out of proportion by the public eye. After all, Drew was a rising star. People always had something to say. You trusted him—or, at least, you used to.

But the second time it was brought up, you couldn’t shake it. The image of Drew with someone else—a faceless, nameless person—wormed its way into your brain, clawing at your trust, your hope. He had asked for space, and you gave it to him, but you never imagined this space would mean he could be with someone else.

The sound of your daughter’s giggles pulls you out of your thoughts. She’s looking up at you, her bright eyes—Drew’s eyes—sparkling with joy as she holds up one of her blocks.

“Look, Mama! Big tower!” she exclaims, her tiny hands clapping together in excitement.

You force a smile, the knot in your stomach tightening. You don’t want her to see your sadness, don’t want her to feel the weight of the tension between you and Drew. She’s too young to understand, too innocent to be burdened with the complexities of adult problems.

“Wow, that’s amazing, baby,” you say, leaning down to kiss the top of her curly head. But even as you speak, your thoughts are elsewhere—back to Drew, back to the uncertainty that has been eating at you.

You can’t take it anymore. You grab your phone off the couch and head into the kitchen, needing some distance from your daughter so she doesn’t pick up on your growing frustration.

With shaking hands, you scroll through your contacts, finding Drew’s name. You hesitate for a moment, thumb hovering over the call button. Part of you doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to open up a wound that might not heal. But you can’t go on like this—not knowing, not feeling like you’re caught in some sort of limbo while your life hangs in the balance.

The phone rings, and each second feels like an eternity. When Drew finally picks up, his voice is familiar, warm even, but that doesn’t soothe the ache in your chest.

“Hey,” he greets, his tone light. “Everything okay?”

You swallow hard. “We need to talk.”

The casual ease in his voice disappears, replaced by a quiet tension. “What’s going on?”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. You’ve replayed this conversation in your head a thousand times, and yet the words feel heavy on your tongue, almost impossible to speak.

“I heard something today,” you start slowly, your voice trembling. “About you. About that girl.”

There’s a long pause, and you can hear him sigh on the other end. When he finally speaks, his voice is tight, wary. “What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“I heard that you’ve been spending time with someone,” you continue, trying to keep your voice steady but failing miserably. “Is it true?”

The silence that follows is suffocating, and your heart races, each second stretching painfully.

“Look, it’s not what you think,” Drew finally says, but his answer feels like a half-truth. It’s not enough.

“Then tell me what it is,” you press, your frustration mounting. “Because I’ve been sitting here, waiting, trying to make sense of this. You asked for space, Drew, and I gave it to you. But if you’re moving on… if there’s someone else…”

You can’t finish the sentence, the words too painful to say out loud. The thought of him with another woman, of your daughter being caught between you, is too much to bear.

“I’m not moving on,” Drew says firmly, but there’s something in his voice—a hesitance, a guilt—that makes you doubt him. “Yes, I’ve been spending time with someone, but it’s not what you think. She’s a friend, and that’s all. I swear.”

“A friend?” You can’t hide the bitterness in your voice. “Drew, people are talking. I’m hearing rumors, and it’s killing me. Do you know how hard it’s been to sit here, alone, while you’re out there with someone else?”

“I didn’t know,” he says softly. “I didn’t think—”

“Exactly,” you cut him off, your voice rising with anger now. “You didn’t think. You asked for space, but I didn’t think that meant you’d be out there with other women while I’m here raising our daughter.”

His sigh is heavy, remorseful. “I’m sorry. I should have been more honest with you. I didn’t want to make things harder for you, and I didn’t think you’d hear about it. But I see now that I messed up. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

You shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Well, you did. And I can’t keep doing this. I can’t sit here wondering if you’re going to come back, or if you’ve already moved on. I need to know where we stand, Drew.”

His silence on the other end is deafening, and for a moment, you think maybe this is it—maybe this is how it all ends.

“I don’t want a divorce,” Drew finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want this to be over, I want to come home, back to you and our daughter”

Your breath hitches, and you wipe at your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “Then come home.”

There’s another pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he considers your words. “I will. I’ll come home. I want to fix all the messed that I’ve made… for you”

A weight lifts off your chest, though the road ahead still feels uncertain. But for the first time in months, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s fragile, but it’s there.

“I’m not going anywhere this time, not now, not ever” he promises, his voice stronger now. “We’ll figure this out together.”

“Me and our baby girl will wait for you to come back home, Drew.”

As you hang up, you realize that while the wounds may not heal overnight, this is a step in the right direction. Drew is coming home, and for now, that’s enough.

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

Flashing lights teaser

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ lastest: prologue out now! | index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The internet goes crazy once again.

First was Drew’s visit to your set. Second was the confirmation of the relationship. Third? The hard launch that you posted. 

A picture of Drew, who’s hugging you from the back, his arms wrapped around your neck. His face is pressed besides yours, and he’s making the most lovestruck face to the camera. And so are you. Well, with the help of alcohol, you’re smiling as if Drew’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

With the caption, “Mine.”

Drew smiles proudly while staring at the instagram post, your first post in five years. He glances over at you in the car, only to see that you’ve fallen asleep, your head resting against the window. He reaches over and carefully moves your head to lay on his shoulder, thinking it would be more comfortable. 

You’re deep in sleep that you don’t even care, and Drew just stiffens his posture, to make sure even his smallest movements won’t wake you up. 

While you sleep, Drew just continues to stare at the photos he took of you today, an unexpected smile on his face. Which was just weird, so fucking weird.

-------------------------------

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: hello! this is my first ever story that i'm writing! sorry for some grammar mistakes tho... anyways, hope you enjoy this small teaser! if you enjoyed it, like to show support or comment! thank you <3

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

❝ 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 ❞

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . tyler owens x fem!reader .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° .

→ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: yourself and tyler go way back, further than you'd like to admit, but after a brutal end, it's been years since you've spoken. until one night when your roommate brings him home.

→ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: ANNNNGGSSSSTTTT, talks of fighting and yelling, reader and tyler having history, use of feminine pronouns and description, awkward asl atmosphere, sexual implication, longing, flashbacks will be in italics. ↳ wc: 4671 (not sorry)

→ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this came to me when i was sat on the couch with MY roommates hahahaahah - requests are open!

↳ ❝ [ i shouldn't have called, cause we shouldn't speak. you do make me hard, but she makes me weak - save all the jokes you're gonna make, while i see how much drink i can take. then be my mistake ] ❞

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Y/N, Emmie just texted me, she's found a male at the bar and he's coming back here" Your roommate Caroline slaps a hand over her mouth, biting back a laugh as you shake your head and chuckle. "I knew we should've joined her, but for some reason you refuse to go into that bar!"

"Carol, you know why I don't go there!" You scoff back, a playful smile on your face. You put the teaspoon in the sink and take a sip of the tea you just made, pushing a mug over the kitchen island to where Caroline sits. "I know that he tends to go there a lot and I just- I don't really want to be bumping into him and getting all weird and sad when I'm supposed to be having fun with my best girls"

"Yeah, yeah, Tyler this, Tyler that" You give her a disapproving look. "Ok, I'm sorry, that was rude. But I'm serious, Y/N, it's been four years. We never even met the guy, or even saw a photo! Surely if you were that spent on keeping him locked up in that little brain of yours for your eyes only, it can't have been that serious?"

"Oh, it was serious!" You defend, laughing and holding up your arms in mock offence. Carol wraps the blanket tighter around herself and leads you towards the couch, settling with her cup of tea, urging you to sit in front of her. "It was on and off like a strobe light, but I was crazy about him. And as far as I know, he was crazy about me. We just didn't mesh well. I mean, we had been together since we were fifteen, we grew out of each other, I guess"

"But you still have a photo of him in your wallet?" Your eyes widen at this statement, your face growing pale. "Relax, girl, I went in there to put your Costco card back and I saw a photo of some guy from the back. I assume it was him anyway and not some secret guy you've been hiding from us"

You bury your face in your hands in embarrassment, chuckling lowly to yourself. "That's Tyler alright"

"Y/N/N, will you just get in the truck?" Tyler said, holding his hand out for you to take. "Please?" You could never resist those puppy dog eyes, the one's you fell in love with all those years ago.

You smile at him, taking his hand and letting him lead you down the stairs of the porch towards his beat up old truck. Opening the door for you, he helps you climb in, a smile plastered across both your faces.

"Ty, where are you taking me?" You laugh, shaking your head at him as he just winks and shuts the door behind him, walking round the truck to slide into the drivers side.

"Now what would I gain from ruining the surprise, hm?" He turned the keys in the ignition and sped off down the dirt track of your parent's ranch, but instead of turning off onto the freeway, he heads in a different direction.

Deciding not to question him, you sigh and lean back into the headrest, staring at his side profile as he concentrates on the road. The furrow of his eyebrows, the clench in his jaw when he hits a particularly rocky piece of track, the slight smirk that flicks at the corner of his mouth when a song he likes plays on the radio.

"What are you staring at, pretty lady?" He jokes, glancing over at you and placing a hand on your thigh. "Something got your attention, hm?"

"Just my gorgeous boyfriend" You smile once again, interlocking your fingers with his hand that rests on your leg. "Thinking about how lucky I am to have such a beautiful man that loves me and drives me around and surprises me and buys me flowers and doesn't let me spend a dime."

"Yeah, you are pretty lucky" You both erupt into a fit of laughter as the truck pulls to a stop. He takes his hand off your thigh to take the keys out of the ignition and hops out the truck to open your door. "Here we are"

You look around you, confusion etching your features. "Tyler, this is the woods" He tuts at you.

"I knew you would say that. Just come with me" He takes your hand, leading you into the trees down a makeshift trail that's been made through hikers over the years. "You maybe know about this place, you maybe don't. I'm hoping don't"

You're walking for about 15 minutes before he tells you to close your eyes, grabbing your other hand to help you balance and show you the way. "Tyler, I am going to die out here!" You joke as you stumble over what feels like a branch.

"Relax, oh my Christ!" He laughs back, he pulls you into a stop as you find your feet on somewhat smooth ground. "Ok, keep your eyes closed. No peeking!" He lets go of both your hands and you feel him walk away, the crunch of his feet getting slightly further away before coming to a stop.

You take a deep breath, you arms still held out to the side slightly to keep your balance on the unfamiliar terrain.

"Ok, open" You open your eyes to find yourself on a wide cliffside at the edge of the woods, a picnic blanket sprawled out a few feet away from you where Tyler stood, and a basket full of what looks like all your favourite foods. A bottle of wine and two glasses sit comfortably on the blanket, and the city lights from below you glittered as the sun set below the peaks of the mountains miles away.

"Tyler, this is-" You place a hand on your heart, and you move your eyes to meet his, slowly walking towards where he was standing. "Tyler, this is incredible" You put your arm around his waist, pulling him in closely as you admire the intricacy of the set up. He places a kiss to your temple.

"I thought considering I'm leaving tomorrow for that storm, we could have a nice final date" He smiles, letting you go to sit down on the blanket.

"Nice?!" You exclaim, feigning offence. "Tyler, this is more than nice. This is perfect"

"Only the best for my girl" He winks, reaching for the wine and the corkscrew. "Now are you gonna sit down and enjoy this picnic with me, or are you gonna stand there staring?" He jokes again, fiddling about with the wine.

Before he could pester you again, you reach into your bag for your polaroid camera, an old thing Tyler got you for your seventeenth birthday that travels in your bag with you everywhere. Snapping a photo of him from behind, sat on the picnic blanket, the sun creating a silhouette of his frame, and all you could think in the moment was how beautiful he was, and how beautiful this could be.

"Earth to Y/N!" Caroline snaps her fingers from the couch opposite you. You flick back to reality, shaking your head and sheepishly apologising. "You OK?"

"Yeah!" You reply a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit tired"

"Do you mean tired or Tyler?" Caroline giggles as you half-heartedly fling a throw pillow in her direction. "Sorry, sorry! But seriously girl, it's been this long and he's still on your mind? He must've had you whipped, you haven't even been on a date since!"

"Yes I have!" You defend, placing your tea down on the coffee table and crossing your legs under your blanket.

"Fucking some guy on the gross sinks of the club handicap stall is not a date" She got you there. Suddenly, you hear the front door open, and Emmie's laughter echo around the hallway. "Christ, here she comes" Caroline sits up on the couch and fixes her hair, as if Emmie and her mystery man would come in the room anyway.

You were proven extremely wrong when the door is pushed open and your second roommate strolls in, three beers in hand. She throws one at you and one at Caroline, using her foot to keep the door open.

"I come bearing gifts!" Emmie exclaims, holding her own beer in her hands as you try biting the lid off the beer open. "We're gonna chill in here for a bit with you guys, Tyler's just taking his shoes off"

"Who?!" Caroline exclaims, as you choke on your own breath. "Who is gonna chill in here for a bit?" She looks between the two of you as you scramble on the couch to find the missing beer cap.

Confusion etches across Emmie's face, staring at you as you frantically sit back up, pushing your glasses back up your nose. "Oh shit!" She exclaims, her eyes widening in realisation. "Oh shit!"

"Oh shit what?" that all to familiar voice asks from behind her as he strolls into the living room, making eye contact with Caroline before turning towards you. His eyes grow wide, his hands immediately reaching to take his hat off and hold it to his chest. The hat that you bought him. That stupid, stupid hat that you spent a stupid, stupid amount of money on, but somehow all seemed worth it to see that stupid, stupid smile on his stupid, stupid face.

It seemed like forever that he was staring into you before Caroline broke the silence by clearing her throat. "Um, it's nice to meet you, Tyler. How are you, Tyler? What's going on, Tyler?" She raises her eyebrows at him, as you shoot her a glare.

"Uh- yeah, I'm good, you must be Caroline" He finally tears his eyes away from you to spare an awkward, tight-lipped smile. A familiar gut-wrenching embarrassment fills your body as you look down at your lap as it hits you that your ex-boyfriend is in your apartment, with the intention of fucking your best friend, and you're sat on the couch in your pyjama's drinking tea at 10pm on a Saturday night.

Emmie awkwardly sits on the couch next to Caroline, slipping her shoes off and mouthing a 'Sorry', reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone.

I'm so sorry, she texts you. I had no idea that was the Tyler, I'm gonna ask him to leave, tell him I don't feel well. I'm so sorry

You reply: you don't have to do that, i'm just gonna take myself off to bed

No this is my mess, Emmie's next text reads. I'll sort it all out.

Tyler's still standing awkwardly in the doorway as you launch yourself off of the couch and into the kitchen, pouring your beer down the sink out of pure humiliation. He still wore the same cologne, you could smell the sandalwood on his skin as you pushed past him, his warm flesh brushing against the bare skin of your arm. He still had that same look in his eyes all those years ago when he looked at you, that one of adoration.

You rub your eyes and look out the kitchen window of your apartment at the city lights, the rain pattering slowly against the glass panes as you sigh and lean your back against the counter. It was almost like mother nature was mocking you, laughing in your face as the memories of your last meeting with Tyler flooded your mind.

"Baby, just come back inside, we can talk!" He bellowed from his porch. "It's storming, Y/N, just come inside!"

You continue down his front path as the rain and hail slammed on the pavement. You didn't know what you were doing, your house was a forty-five minute walk from Tyler's place, but you knew you'd regret it if you gave in. Suddenly, his hand grabbed your bicep from behind, twisting you around. He saw your bloodshot eyes and puffy lips and immediately his features softened.

"Darlin', I'm sorry, please just come inside and we can talk it all out" His palm came up to cradle the side of your face, and you had to fight the urge to lean into his warm, tender touch.

"There's nothing to talk about, Tyler" You replied, shaking your head. Another tear rolled down your cheek, unrecognisable as the rain hammered down on your head. "You made your choice, let me make mine"

Tyler's eyebrows furrowed. "My choice? I choose you! I always chose you, I will always choose you!" His hand left your face, falling limp at his side.

"Tell that to Boone" You shook you head. "Tell that to everyone on that stupid fucking tornado chasing team! That's what you'd rather be doing!" He scoffs, wiping a hand down his face. "What? It's true! All I've done for the last decade is support you, I let you go off and do whatever it is you do in that stupid truck, I supported you in college when you didn't have a clue what you were gonna do with your life, I came with you on chases even though I fucking hate thunder, and I hate the danger, I do everything for you! And what do I get?"

"You get to be with me!" He cut you off, you were both yelling now, drawing attention from the neighbours as lights in the houses around you slowly turned on. "Isn't that enough? Am I not enough?"

"Don't you dare turn this on me!" You turn your back on him, wiping your face. You're too far in to let him see you cry. "Tyler, of course you're enough. I'm in love with you, I have been for ten years, but all I do in this relationship is hurt. I don't feel loved, I feel like you're not satisfied until you've got your adrenaline fix on some tornado hundreds of miles away from you. Am I supposed to sit on the porch knitting, waiting for you to show back up? God forbid my boyfriend cares about me and what I want!"

"If that's how you feel, maybe we shouldn't be together!" He exclaims, his hands flying into the air as the rain beats down harder and harder.

"Maybe we shouldn't!" Your shoulders slump as you stare at him, the hurt in his eyes clouding over as any ounce of hope he had in his body to remedy this is blown away by the wind and washed away by the rain. "We're not fifteen anymore, Tyler. I can't keep doing this, I can't keep hoping and praying that you'll come back to me alive. I just can't."

"Hey" Emmie's voice sounds behind you. You turn your head towards the kitchen door, where she's shutting it behind her. "I told Tyler I wasn't feeling well, and if I'm honest, he couldn't get out of here fast enough" She awkwardly chuckles and walks over to you, giving you a hug. "I'm so sorry, Y/N/N, I didn't know that was your Tyler. I would've never have spoken to him, let alone brought him home if I knew-"

"Emmie, relax" You reply, a dry laugh leaving your throat. "It's fine, there's no need to apologise. I was just shocked to see him, that's all. It's okay, I'm okay, I promise."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You climb out of the cab, Caroline and Emmie hot on your tail as the three of you link arms and giggle as you stumble towards the bar. The three bottles of wine you had in the refrigerator went down a treat as Emmie and Caroline coaxed you into drinking with them, and you let them convince you going to the bar that Tyler frequented was a fabulous use of your time.

It had been two weeks since your encounter with him, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't all you thought about. The look on his face, the smell of his skin and that goddamned hat that he still refused to part with all these years later.

You'd spent the majority of the past few weeks reminiscing on the relationship, thinking about what everything was and what it could've grown into. Where would you be today? On your own ranch, like your parents, but bigger, and would you finally have gotten that ring, maybe a couple of kids? Even today, when you pictured your future, it was always with him by your side.

The atmosphere in the bar was lively, music blasting out of the jukebox as you had to elbow your way to the bar for a drink. Your eyes take a scan of the room, but he wasn't in sight. A twang of disappointment struck you, as if you would've approached him anyway.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asks, but before you could open your mouth, someone responds for you.

"Black label, on the rocks" Tyler slides up beside you, the slight redness in his eyes indicating he was just as buzzed as you were. "Hey" He rests his elbow on the bar, passing the bartender his card and shooting you a smile.

He looked somewhat the same, his shoulders were broader and his smile no longer reached his eyes, but he was still your Tyler. The mischievous glint in his eye was gone, and he had grown some stubble, even with all the differences he was still just as charming as he was all those years ago.

"Hi" you reply, taking your drink from his hand and throwing it all down.

"Woah, slow down there, cowgirl" He laughed, his old nickname for you making shivers run up your spine. You glanced over your shoulder to find Emmie and Caroline, but they had scuttled off to a dark corner of the bar, no doubt to watch this interaction.

You had never felt more awkward in your life. All of a sudden the top you thought was cute three hours ago is too much for the atmosphere you're in, and your makeup is too perfect to be ruined by the tears that would inevitably fall within the next fifteen minutes.

Tyler nods his head towards the door, taking your hand delicately in his as he led you to the deck of the bar. Sparks shot up your arm and through your body at his gentle touch, his grasp far from firm, as if you were glass that would shatter. You follow him out and perch at an empty table overlooking the street.

"How are you?" He asked, looking at you, as if he could see inside your brain. You stare back, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm fine" You reply, nervously licking your lips and twiddling your fingers on your lap. This is so fucking awkward.

He gives you a knowing look. "No, you're not" He looks away from you and wipes his face with his hand, something he always did to stop himself from crying. "I know you're not, because I haven't been fine since we broke up. And we're cut from the same cloth, you and me, we've been interlinked since we met"

You were sat on the back porch of your parents ranch. It was a sweltering summers day, sweat licking at your skin as you shifted uncomfortably in the deck chair. Your friend Hannah was over, bringing a bottle of some sort of dark liquor with her as she sat next to you, pouring you both another glass.

"Say, when is your brother gonna be home?" She smirked at you as you playfully swatted her arm. "What!? He's hot!"

"Hannah, behave!" You laughed. "But it should be any minute now" You winked at her, reaching for your glass. Usually you wouldn't condone any of your friends getting with your twin brother, but Hannah had liked him for years and you kind of just wanted her to shut up.

As if on cue, the french doors of the patio slid open and your brother walked onto the porch, grabbing Hannah's glass and downing whatever concoction she had made for herself. She playfully giggled, and the sight made you sick to your stomach, but you laughed along anyway.

"Hello, Hannah" Your brother gave her her glass back before turning to you and grimacing. "Hello....thing...."

"Hello, ugly" you responded, pulling your sunglasses on top of your head and sitting up properly to face him. "Why did you have to come out here and ruin my time with my friend?"

"Um, it's hot, you fucking idiot, and the AC is broken, so Tyler and I are gonna chill out here. I see you have liquor, so we're gonna be enjoying that just as much as you are" He pulled up a chair opposite Hannah, so close to her that their knees touched. You wished he'd swallow his pride and make the first move, because you knew damn well Hannah wouldn't.

"Tyler?" Hannah asked, her eyebrows furrowing. "Who's Tyler?"

"I am" he said from behind you, a shadow was cast over your face as he moved to stand next to you. You looked up, and there he was, the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, and probably would ever see. "And you must be Y/N?" You nodded. "I've heard a lot about you"

"Good things I hope" You joke, a laugh bubbling out your throat as your brother clears his throat. "But if they're coming from my brother, I can't imagine it's anything but slander"

You all erupt into laughter, and that was it. After that day, Tyler never left your side.

You lean back into your chair, avoiding eye contact with Tyler. He wasn't lying, you two were eerily similar, and he'd always been the one person, aside from your brother, who could read you like a book. There was no denying your souls were hand crafted for each other.

"How's your brother?" He asks, a lame attempt at conversation.

"I thought you would know" You turned to look at him. "He married Hannah a few months ago. I was half expecting to see you there"

Tyler shook his head. "Corey hasn't spoken to me since we broke up. I think he's angry I broke his sister's heart"

Your lips form a tight line. "What do you want from me Tyler? Have you dragged me out here away from my friends to make pointless small talk or did you have anything of value to say to me?"

"Is it so wrong to want to talk to you?" He asks again, hurt brushing over his features before he regained composure. You roll your eyes and stand up, making your way back into the bar. Before you could walk in, Caroline runs over and slams the door to the deck shut in front of you, Emmie furiously pointing at Tyler, mouthing "fucking talk to him!"

You sigh in defeat and turn around to see Tyler smiling, shading his eyes from the heat lamp burning down on his skin.

"Guess you have no choice" He joked. "But I can't talk to you knowing your roommates are staring at us"

"Well, what do you propose?" You asked, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. You were not leaving the bar with him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You left the bar with him. You found yourself strolling down the street, buying a case of beer from the gas station and suddenly, twenty minutes later, you were sat on the cliffside Tyler took you to years ago, moderately buzzed from the mixture of beer and hard liquor.

"I still carry your photo in my wallet" You admit, looking at him on the other side of the bench. "The one I took of you here, in this exact spot, when you made us a picnic before you left on a chase"

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't done the same thing" He reached into his pocket and pulled a polaroid out of his own wallet. It was crumpled and faded, but you could still make out your own face in the moonlight, smiling up at the camera, eyes squeezed shut with Tyler's hat adorning your head. You laughed to yourself.

You settled into a comfortable silence, the subtle admission of lost love still hanging in the air, weighing down on you.

"Why?" He asked. You looked back at him. "Why did you keep it?"

"Why did you?" You retaliate, raising an eyebrow at him in suspicion.

"Why do you think?" He sighed and shuffled ever so slightly closer to you. "I remember when you broke up with me you told your brother I was the biggest mistake of your life. He came banging my front door down, probably ready to beat me to a pulp. I would've let him. But as soon as he told me that- as soon as he told me that you said I was a mistake, every bit of anger in me just dissipated. I was in love with you, hell, I am in love with you, and all I could do was question how I managed to fuck up so bad that our decade together felt like a mistake to you."

"You were never a mistake, Tyler" You whisper softly, choosing to ignore the fact he just admitted his love for you all these years later. "I was mad, mad that I let go so easily, and it was easier to blame you than admit that I broke up with you over something so- so mundane"

He had moved closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours on the bench as he leant down to put his empty beer bottle on the floor. He sat back up, putting one arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. You fit in the crook of his neck like a missing piece of a puzzle, and a satisfied sigh left your lips.

"Tyler?" You say, he hums in response. "You're in love with me?"

His shoulders tense as he sucks in a sharp breath. Maybe you should've continued to ignore it.

"Of course I am" he replies softly, lifting your head up and cupping your jaw. Finally, you lean into his touch, a smile tugging at your lips. "I have been for fourteen years. I could never love anyone like I love you, you're it for me"

You stare at him, allowing yourself to fall deeply into his gaze. His features had considerably softened since you first saw him in the bar. The glint of hope in his eyes had returned, and the crease in his brow has gone. The slow breeze pushed his hair slightly back, and you had to resist the urge to run your hands through his blonde locks.

He was slowly leaning in, and before you knew it, your eyes were fluttering shut as you felt his lips lightly graze yours. His other hand found the other side of your face, cradling you like you were the most precious jewel. Your hand instinctively goes up to hold his wrist, his skin rough against your palm.

"Can I- can I kiss you?" He whisper's against your mouth. You nod.

His lips finally pressed against yours, gentle and full of years of love. He tasted the same as he always did, the distinct flavour of vanilla from his chapstick he carried around in his back pocket. His lips slotted against yours perfectly as your arms made their way around his neck. For the first time in years, you felt at peace.

Tyler reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. "What do you say?" He whispered. "Be my mistake."

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

¡𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮!

Pt.2

Pairing: Rafe x Reader (strangers/enemies to lovers)

Warnings: language

-❂❂❂-

It was the next day, Rafe wore a white polo with navy slacks. His usual yet more ‘fancier’ outfit. He wanted to look good. Not that he needed to, but he did anyway.

You wore a light grey tank top, with blue baggy jean shorts and your adidas campuses. Topping the outfit off with a small silver chain, your rings and a pair of 2000s sunglasses.

The weather was nice, the suns shinned down on the high school.

You pulled up to school, rock punk music blaring. Your windows down, you pulled into your usual parking spot. Stepping out of your car your friends approached you. Starting up conversations, you leaned on the hood of your car.

Rafe sat in a small wall with his friends. He watched as you lean down to look in your wing mirror, to see if your hair was slicked back. He liked your style, never thought he’d be into a girl who wore baggy clothes. He was used to the tight fitted cali girls.

-❂❂❂-

You sat in one of the vacant music rooms, an empty room besides to small desks that are pressed to the wall. Some broken chairs. And obviously cased instruments.

You had your headphones on, only one side covering your ear. You had your borrowed fender (from your friend, cause she plays drums and had the guitar from her dad). The electric guitar sat on your lap, holding the neck of the fender in your left hand. You strummed the electric guitar to the beat of the song ‘Just A Girl’ by No Doubt.

Rage heard the guitar, he walked towards the music. Peaking into the classroom, to see you.

You sang quietly, not planning on anyone hearing in. “Take this pink ribbon off my eye…”

‘Oh my god, she sounds amazing’ he thought.

“I’m exposed and it’s no big surprise… don’t you think I know exactly where I stand??”

Your head bops as you play, Rafe watched in awe.

“Cause I’m just a girl in the world, a little ol’ me, well don’t let me out of your sight… oh I’m just a girl in the world, all pretty and petit, so don’t let me have any rights, ohhh I’ve had it up to here…”

Rafe muttered “oh fuck…” he watched as you play the guitar. In a world of your own. He watched you to know that he thought it was cool. But didn’t wanna scare you by you knowing he was watching. Not yet anyways…

“Oh I’m just a girl, take a good look at me, just your typical prototype, ohhh I’ve had it up to, here..”

You bop your head, feeling the music, your escape.

“Ohhh am I making myself clear??, I’m just a girl… I’m just a girl in the world, that’s all that you’ll ever let me be…”

Soon after, your strumming dragged, you subtly faded the song out. You turn some of the nobs on the fender.

Rafe thought this was the time to announce his presence. He quietly opened the door and leaned against the doorway. He crossed his arms, “nice play… wish I was that talented…”

You flinched slightly, you looked over your shoulder. “Rafe? What’re you doing here??” He chuckled softly, walking further into the room. “Head the great guitar, so I followed the music, and… it took me right here…”

He sat in the empty desk opposite where you sat. He asked “so? How long have you played?” You looked down to the guitar, you answered “about six years??” He let out a low whistle “damn, sweetheart, you got skills…” you chuckled “thanks…”

He asked “this yours? If so you got good taste…” He gestured to the white and pearl fender. You shook your head “nah, this is my friends, she’s letting me borrow it till I save my cash to get my own…” he took note of that. He nodded “right, you like your music then I take it?” You nodded. He didn’t bother asking what you liked. He knew. Topper and him had a little ‘get together’ so he could learn about you. He knows the majority about you now… or as much as Topper’s sister and Topper knew anyways…

-❂❂❂-

You walked down the hallway, scoffing when Brooks checked you out. You kept walking, heading to science.

Rafe saw the way Brooks checked you out. Rafe didn’t know your past. But the look Brooks gave you said something. He didn’t know what, but it was something. He also didn’t know Brooks had the hots for your sister. Rather than you.

-❂❂❂-

In science, you sat at the middle-left desk. With two of your friends and a random girl that never talked with you. You all had to dissect a frog. In your eyes, there was nothing wrong with that. Come on, it was a part of the educational system. Also, it’s basic nature, you never understood why everyone was grossed out by it. You roll your eyes when you hear the ‘popular’ girls over react to get the jocks’ attention.

Rafe was never grossed out by this stuff. Why should you? It’s already dead, it’s not gonna jump on you. Besides, you had gloves, just had to be careful for any juices that may fly on you. He was known for a slightly ‘bad’ or ‘scary’ reputation. Having thrown wild and obnoxious parties in California. Or the wild stories he’s had. Somehow coming over to Outer Banks. He never knew how half the stories got here, but… they flew over along with him.

He chuckled with the guys when they all saw the way you and your friends acted with the frogs compared to the rest of the girls in class.

He had to hold his laughter back when you flicked some random liquid at the popular girls. Them being over dramatic, when all you actually did was tip water on your hands under the desk and flicked water on them.

You were a trouble maker, a shit stirrer, a good laugh. He liked that. A lot.

-❂❂❂-

At lunch, Rafe had a chat with Jake. Jake mentioned to him about making a deal. One that got him money, not that he needed it. But he liked how it involved getting closer to you, the money was just a bonus. He may even had a plan on how to use that spare cash…

Rage was in. The deal, getting close to you, allowing Gabs to go on dates and go to parties with Brooks. Whatever you did with Rafe, Gabs could do with Brooks. Rafe got spare cash, Gabs got to live the ‘teenage dream’ she wanted to have. Even if the movies hyped it up to much.

This was the perfect time, the school formal was just around the corner. Also a party at the ‘golfer guys’ place.

Well just have to see if you go through with it all…

-❂❂❂-

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

Frat president || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Unlike Rafe, you managed to balance your responsibilities as Sorority President with your personal life and relationships, something he just couldn’t seem to get right.

Warnings: angst!!!

Word count: 1,973

A/n: first time writing frat boy!rafe lmk if you wanna see more

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

The room was dimly lit, the golden glow from the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the bed. You and Rafe lay tangled together under the sheets, the air thick with the heat of the moment. His hand slid across your bare skin, leaving a trail of warmth wherever he touched. His lips found yours again, hungry and urgent, as though he had been waiting for this all day—between the calls, the meetings, the endless chaos that came with being the frat president.

"Missed you," he muttered against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy, his body pressing into yours. You smiled into the kiss, knowing he meant it. Rafe was always busy, always handling something, but when he was with you, it was like the world faded away. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment.

You arched your body against his, feeling that familiar warmth between you, the kind of intimacy that only you two shared. But just as things were getting more intense, the worst sound shattered the mood—the loud buzzing of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. Rafe paused, pulling away just enough to glance at the screen. His eyes flickered with annoyance but also duty, and you knew what was coming.

"Don't," you whispered, your voice soft but pleading, fingers on his jaw to keep him focused on you. "Just a second," Rafe muttered, "it’s the guys." You groaned and sat up, wrapping the sheet around your body. "Of course it is." Rafe pressed the phone to his ear, ignoring your frustration as he answered, his tone switching from soft and intimate to authoritative. "Yeah, what's up?" His voice was commanding, the kind of tone that always came out when he dealt with frat business.

You leaned back against the pillows, pulling the sheets over your chest, watching as he got up from the bed, pacing the room like he was in some kind of frat office rather than your bedroom. You watched Rafe’s broad back as he paced across the floor, the low murmur of his voice carrying on a conversation that had nothing to do with you. Every word, every command he gave over the phone to one of his frat brothers only added to the frustration bubbling inside you.

His hand ran through his messy hair as he listened to whoever was on the other end, barking orders and sounding like a leader—like the Rafe everyone else knew. But that wasn’t the Rafe you wanted right now. "Seriously?" Rafe’s voice cut through the air, frustration dripping from his words as he dealt with yet another frat-related crisis. "No, tell him if he doesn't fix it, I'm pulling him from the party this weekend."

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you tugged the blanket tighter around you. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. You knew he had responsibilities, but this was supposed to be your time. His phone calls could’ve waited, just this once. But no, everything else always seemed to come first—the frat boys, the parties, the constant drama. It was like you were sharing him with the entire fraternity.

"I said, handle it. No—no, Jacob. I was clear about what you needed to do. Get it fixed, or both of you are looking at probation." Rafe’s voice was cold, sharp as a blade. He paused for a second, then scoffed bitterly. "I don’t care if he was drunk. I don’t give a damn about excuses—just get it done." Rafe snapped into the phone, his voice hard and distant, like he wasn’t the same guy who had just whispered how much he missed you.

You had felt so close to him just minutes ago, tangled in the sheets, his hands on your skin, making you forget everything. You thought tonight would be different, that for once, you could have him all to yourself. The warmth of his touch and the closeness you’d shared felt like a cruel joke now, as you sat alone on the bed, waiting while he dealt with something that wasn’t you.

You stated at the ceiling as his voice grated on your nerves. The anger was bubbling up faster now, impossible to ignore. The thought of being second to his frat boys made your heart ache, but it was more than that. It was the growing realisation that maybe, you’d always be second. Always waiting for him to put you first.

After a few more minutes of listening to Rafe handle the situation, you had enough. "Rafe," you said, your voice sharp as you interrupted him mid-sentence. He glanced over at you, his expression apologetic but still distracted. "Hang on, babe." That set you off. "No, you hang on. You’ve been on that phone for ten minutes. This was supposed to be our time. Remember?" Rafe sighed, covering the phone's speaker with his hand as he turned toward you. "I know, I’m sorry. This is important."

"And I’m not?" you shot back, feeling the sting of his divided attention. Rafe blinked, clearly caught off guard by your words. "That’s not what I’m saying." "Sure feels like it," you muttered, turning away from him as you pulled the blanket over your shoulders. You felt the weight of your words settle between you both, a heavy tension replacing the heat from earlier.

Rafe exhaled loudly, covering the phone with his hand. "Babe, I’m handling it. Just give me a second." "That’s the problem, Rafe," you snapped, the anger flaring as you sat up, the blanket falling away from you. "It’s always 'just a second' with you. Always something more important than me. I thought this time would be different."

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated now. "It’s not like I want to deal with this shit right now, alright? But I’m the president. If I don’t fix these fucking problems, who will?" You shook your head, hurt and anger swirling in your chest. “I get it, Rafe. I know how much responsibility comes with being a president. Believe me, I have my own duties as sorority president. But I’ve learned to separate those responsibilities from my personal life, from us. Something you clearly can’t seem to get a grip on.”

Rafe’s face flushed with frustration. “You think I don’t care about us? You think I’m choosing the frat over you?” Rafe turned fully toward you now, his phone still in his hand but on mute, his voice was a strained mix of anger and desperation. "Of course I care about you. But this is my responsibility. You knew what you were getting into when we got together." "Did I?" you shot back, your voice shaking. "Because I don’t remember signing up to be treated like an afterthought every time someone screws up at a party!"

He rolled his eyes, frustration mounting. "Okay, now you're just overreacting." "Overreacting?" you repeated, the word hanging between you like an accusation. "No, Rafe. I’m tired. Tired of always competing with your frat, tired of feeling like I’m just here when it’s convenient for you. What kind of shitty relationship is this?" He looked at you, and for a second, something flickered in his eyes. Guilt, maybe.

But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced with the same stone-cold exterior he always put up when things got too real. "What the fuck do you want me to do then?" he asked, his voice strained. "I can’t just drop everything for you every time you feel insecure about this." His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you felt the sting behind your eyes, but you refused to let him see you cry.

"Insecure?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what you think this is? That I’m just… insecure?" "That’s not what I meant," Rafe said quickly, but the damage was done. You stared at him, your heart aching in a way that felt all too familiar now. It was always the same with him. Every time you tried to open up, to let him know how much this was hurting you, he brushed it off, made it seem like you were the problem.

You stood from the bed, grabbing your clothes from the floor and quickly pulling them on. Rafe’s eyes widened in confusion as you started dressing. "What are you doing?" he asked, stepping closer. "I’m leaving," you replied coldly, buttoning up your shirt. "I'm not doing this tonight." Rafe stood by the bed, his expression torn between irritation and confusion as he watched you. “Are you seriously leaving because of one phone call?” he asked, his voice low and almost pleading.

“Of course not, Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling with everything you’d held back for so long. “I’m leaving because I can’t keep feeling like I don’t matter to you. Not anymore.” Rafe's jaw tightened as he crossed the room, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You know how this is, you’re a sorority president. You of all people should know how much responsibility comes with it. You can’t just walk away every time something comes up."

You paused at the door, turning to face him, anger flashing in your eyes. “Yeah, I do know. I know exactly what it’s like to balance responsibilities, Rafe. But I also know how to separate my personal life from it, something you can't ever seem to learn." Rafe stared at you, his hands clenched at his sides as he tried to find the right words. “That’s not fair,” he muttered. “You’re acting like I’m choosing this over you.”

“Aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice cold. “Every time we’re together, it’s like you’re half here, half thinking about what the guys are doing, what crisis you have to fix next. I get it, you have responsibilities, but that shouldn’t mean I have to come second all the time." His mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. He looked at you, the guilt flickering in his eyes, but still, no words that would make a difference.

The air between you both felt thick, heavy with all the things left unsaid for far too long. "Do you even realise how many times I’ve put everything on hold for you?" Your voice cracked, the hurt finally breaking through. “How many times I’ve chosen us over my responsibilities, over everything else? I’ve never made you feel like you were second, Rafe. Not once.”

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice quieter now, like he was pleading with you to understand. “You know I am.” “Trying isn’t enough anymore.” Your heart ached as you said it, but you knew it was true. “I shouldn’t have to fight this hard just to feel like I matter to you.” Rafe’s face hardened, the guilt shifting into frustration. “So what, you just give up? Because I can’t drop everything for you in a second?”

Your laugh was bitter as you shook your head. “No, Rafe. I’m not asking you to drop everything. I’m asking you to care enough to make me feel like I’m part of your life, not just something you fit in when it’s convenient. But I guess that’s too much for you.” You turned toward the door again, your hand on the knob. This was it—the breaking point.

The moment where everything you’d been holding onto finally slipped through your fingers. “Wait.” His voice was softer now, almost desperate. You paused, just for a moment, waiting to see if he’d finally say what you needed to hear. But all you heard was the faint buzz of his phone vibrating again on in his hand. And just like that, the hope faded. Without another word, you walked out the door, not looking back.

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

It's my 12 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

you’re joking……… his voice 😭😭😭😭

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

PLAY FAKE | part thirteen

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and has a mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, an asshole, and has mood swings.

"Are you busy?"

The phone call came at the stroke of midnight. Rafe had just gotten away from a lengthy discussion with his father regarding the open properties around Kildare and wanted nothing more than to crash out. But he answered without hesitation when your name flashed across the screen.

"No," he pauses. "Do you need me?"

You do, but you're reluctant to confirm that piece of information. Flattening your lips on the other line, you rub the back of your hand over your tired eyes as a prolonged silence engulfs the call.

But Rafe understands. With a firm I'm coming over, he disconnects the call to pick up his keys.

You've been home for a couple days now, having stayed at Tannyhill for a little over a week. However, with Sarah's return, you felt you'd overstayed your welcome and needed to part ways. Despite Rafe's protests, you insisted, needing to find your own space in the aftermath of everything.

He had hated the way you phrased it. That you needed a place without him.

When he reaches your driveway, Rafe discerns two silhouettes on your porch. Adrenaline spikes, assuming it was Aaron—and that was the reason for your distress call—but upon closer inspection, with the headlights of his car glaring in that direction, the clarity hits.

Maybank and Heyward.

His stomach twists at the realization that he wasn't your first recipient. That you went back to your roots before coming to him. Now, more than ever, Rafe has a bleeding need for some security, to be your first choice.

He doesn't like to be set in the backseat to a pair of Pogues.

Turning off the ignition, Rafe exits the vehicle just as Heyward and Maybank launch from your porch steps with rigid defense. Their eyes narrow at him in suspicion as he stalks up the long pebbled pavement.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" Pope interrogates in lieu of a greeting.

Rafe scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "How is that any of your business, Pogue?"

JJ jumps in. "If you're here for Aaron—"

"I'm not," Rafe snaps, not liking any association with the loan shark, before admitting, "She called me."

A moment of suspense punctures the air before JJ disrupts it, shaking his head with disbelief. "Bullshit. Why the fuck would she contact a Kook?"

It's an insult, the way Maybank's lips curled with the title and Rafe huffs. He doesn't owe him any explanation and certainly won't give one. Stepping forward, Rafe attempts to enter your house, only for the two boys to block his path.

"Move," Rafe commands lowly.

Pope tries to meditate. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but she's been through some things and we don't want any more problems—"

Rafe doesn't bother listening to whatever else he has to say. He knows. He knows what you've been through and he's here because of it, not to add to it. But the accusation is thick on Pope's tongue, fueling his irritation. He attempts to shove past both of them, only for JJ to push back.

Shouting stirs you awake. That's a lie. You've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, hoping it'll lull you to sleep, only for the act to be unproductive. When you start to hear sounds coming from outside, you know Rafe arrived.

Pushing past the screen door, you step out onto the porch to witness JJ and Rafe in the middle of a standoff.

Charged words thrown back and forth, you recognize the dark look behind Rafe's gaze as JJ keeps pushing Rafe's chest—one full of deep agitation, seconds away from snapping.

Your stomach flips with nausea.

"Back off, JJ," you announce sharply to the open yard, causing the trio to direct their attention to you. You briefly connect your gaze with Rafe before turning to the younger blond. "I called him."

JJ's hands drop from Rafe's chest, taking a step back, but there's a look of unsteadiness behind his gaze. Confusion spreads across his hard features while his mouth twists into an ugly scowl. "For what?"

"Does it matter?" You refute, avoiding his question. JJ cocks his head, only for you to add, "You can go home now."

JJ frowns, turning to Pope as they exchange a silent debate. When all Pope could give is a casual shrug, knowing it's your decision at the end of the day, JJ turns back to you.

"You could've let us stay," JJ reasons, throwing a harsh glance over his shoulder at Rafe. "What could a Kook do for you?"

"It's fine. He's my…" You trail off, unable to find the right words to label Rafe. Your initial ideas are too compromising. And Rafe doesn't want your relationship to be seen as complicated to the Kook public, since your interactions could circulate back to Ward. But here, in the sanction of The Cut, you know there's no intersection. No need for security. You shake your head with a tired yet reassuring smile. "It's okay. I appreciate you guys' help."

Rafe hates how you didn't say it.

With a heavy sigh, JJ nods. "Alright," he says, clapping his hands and signaling Pope to descend off the porch. They pair off as they head home and, sparing one last glance at Rafe—who's ascending up the short steps to approach you—JJ bids a final farewell. "Call us if you need anything."

Rafe's arm wraps protectively around your waist. "She won't."

You roll your eyes, shoulders relaxing from their rigid stance, as you watch their departing figures. Once they're no longer in view, you take his arm and tug him into your house.

The short stroll to your bedroom is mostly silent and Rafe takes inventory of your home for any disturbance. Since he ordered that cleaning service, your house is significantly cleaner. You had initially refused his charity but he refused to take no for an answer and you ended up with a grade-A cleaning company that polished your home from all the broken debris and dangerous hazards.

But that wasn't the problem.

When Rafe steps into your bedroom, it's an absolute mess. Pillows are skewed across the floor, your sheets wrinkled and tangled upon each other, and piles of your clothes are thrown together into a pile next to your closet. It greatly contrasts the environment outside your door.

"Shit," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through your body. You move from his touch to do some quick cleaning—throwing your pillows back on the bed, picking up dirty clothes, and tossing them into the hamper.

Abashment increases with each of your frantic steps, to the point that Rafe has to grab your elbow to stop you in place. "Hey," he says softly, lifting your gaze to his, "I don't mind."

You don't say anything. Fatigue pours into the very crevices of your bones. But despite the urge to be presentable, Rafe is a comfort. A clutch. And it's getting dangerous seeing how much you lean on him.

It's on the tip of your tongue to push him away. To tell him to go back home. But he beats you to it, glancing at the door.

"Where's your sister?" Rafe asks. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," you answer, "They're sleeping."

You assumed Amara and Leilani would deal with the same troubles as you, but when you checked up on them, they were out like a light.

Rafe examines you carefully: the way you shift your weight from one leg to the next, the way your hands slightly tremble, and the clear indication of sleep deprivation from the darkened shades ringed around your eyes.

He understands now.

"And you're not?"

Your jaw locks before unwinding. "I'm sorry."

He wants to eradicate that phrase from your vocabulary.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he argues. "You have a problem and you called me. I'm here to help."

Rafe's words are adamant and warms your chest but guilt presses like glass against your heart. "Were you busy?"

"Doesn't matter."

You frown. But the look in his eyes is genuine and honest. You take a step back to separate from him, needing your own air. As of late, everything you own is his. "I…" You exhale a large breath, voice shaky. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong."

"Is it because of Aaron?"

You hesitate before nodding once.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, and I think that's the problem." You expel another breath. "I'm on edge all the time. My chest feels heavy and tight and my head hurts." You pause, before choking out. "I'm just so exhausted."

Rafe closes the distance and wraps his strong arms around you as you sink into his chest. You inhale, taking in the faded smell of his cologne.

"I hate this," you mumble, balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. "I hate that I can't sleep. I hate that I'm always stressed. I hate that—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much. Swallowing hard, you attempt to salvage your words. "I just hate that I'm like this."

Frustration oozes out of you and Rafe hates to see you in this state. However, he'll admit, having you vulnerable and open is a welcoming change. You're allowing him a chance to see a side of you no one else has the privilege to and he deeply treasures your trust.

He'll do anything to preserve it.

Rafe massages delicate circles into the small of your back, soothing the aches in your bones as you melt into his arms. "It's okay," he reassures with a sweet mumble, "I'm here. What do you need from me?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

"No sex." You withdraw enough for him to meet your solemn gaze, "No touching. I don't want to do anything other than sleep."

"Okay." He agrees slowly, his voice is unsteady because of your accusatory tone.

"I'm serious, Rafe," you proclaim. "I know we like to mess around, but I'm too tired. I don't want to fuck tonight."

Rafe's expression is unreadable, stonewalling his emotions the moment those words slipped from your lips. Did you think he only sees you as a fuck buddy?

"I said okay," he snaps, a little sharper than intended, but you pretend not to acknowledge it. You misunderstand it as him being upset over the celibacy rule imposed tonight, but that wasn't the case.

You swallow hard, not wanting his aggression to roll over into bed. "Rafe," you begin, feeling guilty, "if you don't want to, it's fine—"

"I never said that," he cuts you off, not wanting the implication to be read that he doesn't want you here. He does. It hurts him that you think he sees you as nothing—when that's far from the truth. He just can't seem to say it. "I just..." His jaw tightens. "Let's just go to bed."

Your lips pull together into a thin line, wanting to address the issue, but deciding you cannot handle an argument tonight. Nodding, you separate from him and move to one side of the bed. Rafe does the same.

You thought Rafe would take some precaution to add distance between you but he doesn't. You can feel the overwhelming radiation of his body heat, the indication of his proximity in close range, and it causes your breath to be still.

You can't handle it. You need distance. You need space. It's too intimate otherwise, and you can't afford that.

Pulling yourself to the ledge, with your back facing Rafe, you inhale a deep set of breaths to soothe the tension in your body. To pretend you don't feel the heat of his gaze. "Goodnight."

He doesn't answer at first, before he reciprocates with a night and you close your eyes to sleep.

Rafe watches you. The first few minutes are normal, but as time passes, you can't seem to relax in your position. Twisting and turning, your eyes remain closed throughout. The only sound is the soft breaths escaping you to indicate your sleepy state—or, at least, the closest attempt at it.

His mind still lingers on your earlier words. Do you think he doesn't care about you? Beyond intimacy? Is that why you called Maybank and Heyward first?

Rafe never thought you had an issue with it. That you were perfectly content with the arrangement. But the accusation on your tongue gave a different interpretation. Do you want more? Or, is he driving himself insane with the idea of you being his and only his?

Lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, Rafe didn't even realize that you moved closer. Your back now facing the wall as one of your arms extends outward, draped across his chest.

He freezes. Rafe assumes it's an accident, something you'll retract in a matter of seconds. But when your arm reaches out again, seeking the curve of his neck, he realizes it isn't.

You want him.

Taking it as a sign, Rafe lowers himself to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling your weight onto him. The moment you're in his embrace, chest resting against his, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. And, in return, Rafe nuzzles into the open crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"No touching, huh?" He mumbles into the softness of your skin as a gentle taunt. But when there's nothing but the sound of shallow breaths and the emptiness of replies, Rafe realizes you truly fell asleep.

You reached for him unconsciously.

His heart races at the implication, before calming to a normal rate, matching the steady guided pace of your own breaths. His grip around your body tightens, squeezing the soft flesh because, at that moment, he doesn't ever want to let you go.

"You need me," Rafe murmurs the confirmation in the column of your throat, hoping the words would sink through. "And I need you too."

—

By morning, you're gone.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Every time he spends the night, there's a brief hope that the outcome for the morning will be different. That you'll remain in his arms, sleeping soundly. It never happens. And despite the subtle ache in his bones from the weight of your body on top of his all night, it beats the ache in his heart.

Sighing, after washing up, Rafe exits your bedroom to discover you sitting on one of the stools. A leg propped on the flat seat, your chin rests on your kneecap while you're flipping through some old documents.

"Morning," Rafe says, falling into the space next to yours.

"Shit," you swear, nearly jumping out of your own skin, a hand covering your accelerated heart. You hadn't heard him coming. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his eyes scanning over your refreshed face. "You sleep okay?"

You nod, recalling the memory of this morning. Curled up on his arms, head buried in the curve of his neck, your body pressed against his. At first, you assumed Rafe had pulled you in, but that wasn't possible. He wouldn't go against your directive. It was all you.

The corner of his mouth rises at the recognition dawning on your face. Before he gets the chance to make some comment about your neediness, you cut him off. "Don't," you warn, feeling a rush of heat rising to your cheeks.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I see it on your face,"

He scoffs, but the smile remains. "You're right," he relents, leaning closer, shortening the distance between you until he's right before you. "I was thinking of it."

Your eyes catch him and the teasing glint behind his gaze, causing your breath to shorten. You expel a breath, trying to release some tension in your shoulders, before you clarify, "All we did was sleep."

"Yeah, but you slept on me," his voice drops a full octave, "Admit it, sweetheart, you want me. Why else would you want me here?"

You search his face, trying to figure out what he wants. What he's trying to get out of you. But you find nothing tangible. Refusing to put yourself in another position of vulnerability when Rafe has done nothing to balance the scale, you scale back, adding space. "I just—I needed someone I trust."

You don't acknowledge that his assertion is correct. That the one time you fell asleep peacefully was in his arms. Or, perhaps, it wasn't necessarily about trust but about him. Instead, you pretend it's something else, something vague and general, hoping one day it will.

"Someone," Rafe repeats. "Or me?"

You avoid the question.

And Rafe assumes the former.

Dropping your gaze to the files, the air stiffens into a palpable silence. Your fingers thread through the records, pretending to search for something, when all you can feel is the thumping of your heartbeat in your veins.

Rafe releases a sigh. The elation of his state quickly deflates after your rejection. Again. He doesn't know how much longer he can take before it truly destroys him. Deciding to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asks, "Do you want me to stay again?"

"No, it's fine," you shake your head, dismissing the proposition out of habit. Even though it would bring you peace, the rational side of your brain determines the distance necessary to protect yourself. Becoming too reliant on Rafe would add nothing but pain. "You can go home," you pause, considering how to lighten the mood, "I bet the mattress here sucks in comparison to your one-million thread counts, huh?"

There's a strain to your voice; a telltale sign. Rafe ignores your words and focuses on what he does best: reading your body language. With squared shoulders and an avoidant gaze, he knows your words are far from the truth. You just don't know how to ask for what you want.

So, he proposes a different question.

"But can you sleep?"

You don't answer.

"I'll stay then," he decides, as if he's reading an item off a menu. Before you get a chance to object, Rafe shifts closer, tugging the corner of a document. "What's this?"

Your mouth closes, shoulders slouching from how quickly he changes the topic. It almost makes you smile. Deciding it would be better than fighting it, you explain that you're reviewing your Sailor bank accounts to see what money you can spare without harming the business. However, the issue is that you can't seem to find any gaps.

Rafe's brows furrow together as he listens, asking permission to take a look at your statements himself. His eyes scan through the billing, before asking. "Why don't you sell the business and work elsewhere?"

"You're not funny," you declare, attempting to pull the document away, but his grip remains firm. His eyes are set on yours.

"I'm not joking," he declares. "It could help a lot. I mean, you'll earn more than what you're earning here."

He isn't wrong. At this point in time, you would profit more by working as a bartender than a business owner. But that's not the point.

"Sailor is my family's legacy," you explain, believing his question was not an attack on your qualification but rather from a strictly logical standpoint. "It and my sisters are the most important things in my life."

Rafe hums, and he doesn't add anything else. You don't know if he gets it. "Let me ask you something: why do you want Cameron Development so badly?"

He goes rigid. He's never been asked that question before. Never had to articulate his reasoning. It makes him uncomfortable to be interviewed—especially if it's to you of all people. "I don't know," he declares noncommittally, glancing at his lap, "I always assumed I would get it. I'm the oldest."

You shake your head. Not out of mistrust, but because you know him. Rafe isn't as simple-minded as the rest of Kildare likes to believe. There has to be more. "I don't believe that," you say gently, "Try again."

His expression morphs into a charming smile. A facade to hide. "Do I get something if I talk?"

You roll your eyes. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

His smile drops, but you don't pick it up. He shouldn't have said that, but it's too late. Your expression is easygoing and loose, a detachment to your words as if you truly believe and accept that perception of how he views you.

Instead of addressing his feelings, he tries to articulate what he meant before.

"I don't know," Rafe starts again, in a low mumble, his voice more vulnerable than it was moments prior. "Business was the one thing I got. I... I didn't excel in academics and I didn't like sports that much. But with Cameron Development, it was the one thing me and my dad could sit down and talk about and I didn't feel like a big disappointment to him."

He never said those words out loud before, and the confession sounds pathetic, but the way your eyes soften and your head nods along as you listen with no judgment, it gives him the confidence to continue forward.

"I... I get it, you know? The numbers don't scare me and the logic makes sense. It's the one thing I have going for me and to know that my dad is considering giving it to Sarah... It hurts. Like, she has everything and I can't even have the one thing I'm good at."

His voice cracks at the end, and his gaze has since dropped to the floor, hands messing and rubbing the calloused skin of the other.

You reach forward to cup the side of his face, and lift his head, meeting his sensitive gaze. "It isn't fair," you run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone, trying to soothe the ache of his admission. "It truly isn't. I wish I could make it better for you."

Too gentle. Too loving. In the comfort of your touch, Rafe speaks before he can stop himself. "Sometimes I think if I have you, I'll be fine with the world."

Your breathing stills. Rafe did too. You don't know if you misheard him, or if he's implying something else, but before you can seek clarification, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it." Rafe swiftly pulls away, moving to the exit. His hands clench by his side, teeth grinding, regret coursing through his veins at the mistake of letting his emotions overtake him back there.

He shouldn't have said that.

When he opens the door, without checking the peephole, JJ stands behind it.

"Oh, you're still here," JJ declares with a hint of bewilderment. "Didn't think she kept dogs past noon."

Rafe's already on edge from the previous conversation that he has little patience for the Pogue. Seconds away from slamming the door on Maybank's smug face, you appear by Rafe's side, stopping him and inviting JJ in. He steps into your living room, holding something in his hands.

"What's that?" You point to the crumpled note, before recognizing his nervous stance. JJ's bouncing on the heel of his feet, avoiding your gaze, and when you repeat your question, more firmly this time, he reluctantly holds the note out.

"Someone left this at your bar," JJ explains as you take it. Your eyes quickly scan the message, your heart sinking with every word you read. "It's a warning. If you don't... If you don't pay him back in full tomorrow, he'll do something to your bar."

Rafe's watching your reaction with a hardened look. His eyes keep sliding over to JJ, the Pogue being the messenger of the news—the one you sought help from before—and the blond feels the heat of his stare on him. Consequently, it forces JJ to grab your elbow and pull you off to the side, away from Rafe.

JJ begins. "Look, I know you don't wanna do it, but my dad knows a guy—"

"No."

"He's been through with Aaron before," he whispers back sharply, "It might be the only option you have."

"And get stuck in the same shit I had with Aaron? No," you declare firmly, reading the note again. It does nothing to soothe the heightened nerves in your body. The way panic is ricocheting inside your stomach like a ping-pong ball.

JJ says nothing, the absolute behind your tone quiets him. While you're preoccupied with another read-through, JJ glances back to where Rafe stands.

"I gotta ask," JJ starts again, lowering his voice so only you can hear. You lift your head from the note, meeting his curious gaze, with a raise of your brow. "Rafe? Seriously?"

While you're trying to figure out how to maintain your livelihood, JJ is concerned about your love life.

"Is this really the time and place?"

"I'm serious, what do you see in him?"

"Drop it, JJ."

"I just don't understand," he continues in a whisper, but his volume raises slightly, "I swear, you're a pretty girl. You can do 10x better than him—"

"JJ," you command sternly, all amusement vanishes. "Drop it."

"Fine," he stays, stepping back with both hands partially raised to his collar. He doesn't turn to catch another glimpse at Rafe, but instead, offers the same advice as he did before. "If you need my help, you know where to find me."

Rafe watches as the Pogue leaves, stepping out to your porch and closing the door behind him. But his breath remains ragged. He caught the last bit of JJ's hushed words, and as much as he wanted to be sensible, he didn't like it.

You're different than Rafe, he understands that. You have a support system, a list of other people, and sometimes—as much as he hates to admit—they are better than him. Less volatile. Less emotional.

But it feels like you're pushing him away. Placing him as a last line of defense for all your troubles. The insecure parts of him are roaring—louder than his rational thoughts can ever be—telling him that he's the last choice. The last option.

He can't help but wonder. If Leilani hadn't called him, would you have? Or would it be JJ or Pope?

Rafe rounds the couch to approach you, his hand circles your wrist holding the note. Your head lifts to meet his harsh gaze.

"You don't need his help," he declares gruffly, "I could've done it."

You blink. "What?"

"The note at the bar," he gestures to the crumpled paper in your hands, before dropping his to his side, clenching down to a fist. "I could've taken care of it."

"I... I didn't ask him. He did it himself."

Rafe isn't convinced. "And last night with Maybank and Heyward, that was all them too?"

His tone is sharp and accusatory, leaving you lightheaded as you stare at him. You're still wrapped up around the threatening note, but Rafe is somewhere else. A different topic. Another issue. You can't seem to gauge what type of response you need to have. And in turn, you give him silence.

His anger rises. "Am I just your second choice? Your fucking backup plan because those Pogues don't cut it?"

Your head is spinning, and you attempt to pull away from his grip but he tightens it. "Rafe," you start slowly, your breathing quickens, "What are you talking about?"

Are you being ignorant on purpose? Are you trying to drive him mad? His fury erupts, flooding all his senses.

"Them!" Rafe points to the door, where JJ left moments ago. "Last night. Everything. Did you ask them before you asked me?"

It's starting to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"I told you that we'll figure it out together."

"I—" Your throat burns. You can't believe he's letting his jealousy about your friends come at a perilous stage in your life. Exhaling a sharp breath, you meet his stare head-on. "They appointed themselves to that role. I never asked that of them."

After Pope discovered the break-in, JJ and him formed a pact to take it upon themselves to watch over you while you're home. They traded off shifts, entertaining themselves on the porch where they set up a makeshift couch and hammock to crash. You had tried to convince them you were fine, but they were stubborn. They wouldn't listen. And at the time, you appreciated the extra protection.

But it didn't work. You couldn't sleep. You still needed him.

Does he not get that?

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with contempt, "You never ask for anything."

"Are you really trying to start a fight right now?"

"Are you making it a fight?"

"They're my friends, Rafe," you emphasize, "I told you that."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Then what is it?"

His jaw is set, resistance churning through his system to shut the fuck up, but he can't hold it in. He finds himself asking, half in plead, half in confession, "What am I?"

You weren't expecting that. Your lips part, but no words follow through. His hard gaze is on you, waiting for an explanation, but you don't answer fast enough. It's killing him. His next words are a shimmering calm, in a deadly whisper, "Do you think I only want you for sex?"

Your heart squeezes in your chest, taking all your air alongside it. You think you lost your ability to speak, but when you do, it comes out small. "Don't you?"

You're turning the question back onto him, and he hates it. He's trying to get the words out of you, to see where he stands, but neither of you is willing to take that step. It reduces him to silence.

You can't believe it. He can ask, but he can't answer. Frustration fills you, searing hot and explosive. You don't stop yourself from saying, "Because last I remember, whenever you had a problem, you came over to fuck." You snap, your emotions rising to a crescendo, "And when I asked you what we are..." You trail off, losing your voice. The sting of his label still hasn't passed.

But he knows what you're referring to.

"That's different."

"How?"

Rafe doesn't speak. All he knows is it's different. He has feelings for you. Before he refused to acknowledge it, now, it's bleeding into everything he touches. Everything he does. He just can't seem to say it.

"That was before."

Your brows pull together, your anger pulsating through your veins. "Before what? Before Aaron broke into my house?"

"No," he declares, his response is a knee-jerk reaction, but it wasn't the right one. Attempting to rectify, Rafe stammers, "Well, yes, but it's just... It's..."

Why can't he fucking tell you?

He's afraid of being first.

"It's pity?" You supply, not bothering to conceal the hurt in your tone. "Everything is just pity?"

"No!" He exclaims, but it isn't right. It still isn't good enough.

"Then what is it?" You demand, trying to get a hold of your emotions. But you're seconds away from screaming, or crying, or both. You rip your hand from Rafe's grip, taking a step back to conserve yourself.

His gaze falls to his empty hands, his emotions choking him. Every attempt at saying the right words causes him to shrink, feeling small, feeling like a child reaching for their parent's love, only to be pushed aside and dismissed. His walls are for protection, but it destroys as much as it save him.

Rafe decides to settle on something easy. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Fake," you correct.

"Does this feel fucking fake to you?"

You reel back. All your anger dissipates. All your resentment, hurt, and frustration disappear once those words leave his lips. And you're left with a burning clarity. Your chest constricts, your heart hammering. But you can't seem to answer him. You want him to say it first. "You tell me."

Rafe can't. It took all of him to admit such a thing.

You watch him with bated breath, but only to be disappointed again. His dark blue eyes are piercing, rich with emotions, but none of them are vocalized. None are honest. You can’t do this. You can’t go through another second of this uncertainty. You’re tunneling towards heartbreaking misery. So, you turn to leave.

But Rafe catches your wrist and pulls you back. His lips slam into yours, knocking the wind from your lungs.

He pours everything into this kiss; all his desperation, vulnerability, and truth. His action demonstrates everything his words can’t. And while you reciprocate with the same passion, reality grounds you, and you draw back, shaking your head. “Rafe—“

He kisses you again. Hoping it’s enough. Begging it to be. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know why he can’t fucking say it. He wants this to be enough.

You push back again, and this time, his arm wraps around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You’re breathing hard as Rafe stares down at you while you’re looking at his chest.

He says your name. You refuse to look up.

He says it again. More firmly. You don’t acknowledge.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, softening his words, and you find yourself crying. Tears crowd your waterline as you shake your head, refusing to be persuaded by the sweet sound of your endearment.

“No,” you choke out, slamming a weak fist against his chest. “Let me go. I can’t—I don’t—I’m not doing this.”

You finally tilt your head up to look at him. The way he stares at you with such tenderness. You can’t seem to discern it from pity. “I can’t.” You sob, “If this is how you’re playing me, I can’t keep doing this anymore. You’re breaking my heart.“

Then it finally hits him.

All your resistance. It was never rejection. It was the complete opposite. Coupled with the same fears he had; the same emotions he didn’t know how to express. He’s been so blind to it.

He should’ve known. He should’ve read it the same way he’s been reading everything else.

It finally gave him the confidence nothing else has.

“I fucking love you.”

You are completely still. You think you're hearing him wrong, that this is just a way of your brain deluding you and calming your irrational state of mind, but it's real. Your lips part, breathing shallow, all while you're staring back into Rafe's eyes.

He's afraid. Rafe doesn't trust his own instincts. Everything about you makes him question himself. And while he gained a fleeting moment of courage, he doesn't know if it will follow through. On the off-chance that, despite all this, all the signs he read, he was wrong and it will be rejection.

"Say it back," Rafe whispers in a plea. It's pathetic, but he no longer cares. "Say it back or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

"You love me?" You breathe in a whisper, unable to move on from this moment. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly, before nodding once.

“I think I loved you since I first met you,” he confesses. “I just didn’t know it yet.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rafe bristles, “You think I go around telling people I love them?” He declares, studying your expression, trying to gauge your reaction, but it’s hard when he’s blinded by the crippling fear that you don’t feel the same. “You think I do this for anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I just don’t want you to say something you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he declares, his voice suddenly dry, as he finds your gaze. “I… I’m sorry for before when I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want you just for sex, I don’t see you as just a fuck buddy. I’m… I’m in love with you, and it’s fucking difficult to tell you that.”

Your lips purse together, but you still don’t answer him. Don’t confess your own side. Instead, you ask in a meek voice, “Since the beginning?”

He huffs. He can’t believe he’s admitting so much today. Revealing things he swore he’d keep hidden behind a locked box. But when he finds the light returning in your eyes, trying to gauge more of his reaction, read his true meaning, finding comfort in his words, he’ll rip out his own soul to keep it there. “Since the beginning. When you called me out, when you patched me up, when you slapped me—“ That bit makes you let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I was going to meet anyone who challenges and accepts me the way you do.”

You don’t say anything for the next few moments. And they were the longest seconds of his life. Rafe had to speak, “And if it’s just me, if I’m the only person who feels this way, I’ll find a way to be okay with that—“

You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you,” you breathe into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,” you jump, curving your legs around his hips as Rafe catches you, steadying you with two hands tantalizing skimming the curve of your ass. “Fuck, Rafe, I love you so much.”

His heart fills with your words. Your desperation clinging to each puncture. He grins into the kiss, before he deepens it, tasting you, stealing your air. Everything feels right. Feels good. When Rafe separates to break the kiss, he catches the residue smile on your face and the little daze behind your eyes. He snaps a memory of it and saves it forever.

But, just as it came, it slowly faded away. Reality quickly dawns on you, and your arms tightens around Rafe’s neck, reminders and deadlines creeping up your skin. Your confession comes out small. “I… I’m scared. With Aaron and everything.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t have the money, Rafe,” your eyes connect with his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Rafe pulls you in, flushed against his chest as your head lays on his shoulders and his hand strokes your hair. It takes a moment for him to process, to remember the world outside of you. But, when he does, he whispers, “I’m going to take care of it,” his voice so low, it almost comes out as a threat. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he will.

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[osterfieldshollandgirl]

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader forced marriage au masterlist

divider by @h-aewo

background info

My say

First Impressions

Little miss perfect

Eyes don’t lie

First pregnancy

Foreign feelings

At your defence

Drunk kisses

With the Cameron’s

Cigarette daydreams

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

Beyond The Spotlight || Drew Starkey

authors note: this is for you bby @josephandrewstarkey 💋💋

warnings: smut, 18+

After months of grueling work, they had finally arrived in Venice for the Venice Film Festival for Queer, stepping onto the red carpet, the cameras flashing rapidly. Y/N stood beside Drew, her hand resting lightly on his arm, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles as he navigated the crowd with ease.

Her eyes traveled over him, taking in the small details that made him who he was—the earring dangling from his ear, a new set of rings on his fingers, the way the tailored blue tuxedo fit him like it was made just for him. He looked every bit the star he was, but to her, he was so much more. Tonight, though, there was something different about him. He was glowing. She could see the relief, excitement, and happiness in his eyes, a lightness that hadn’t been there in the long weeks leading up to this moment.

He was in his element, and she felt an overwhelming sense of pride. All those late nights he spent perfecting every small detail of the script, with her by his side, had led to this—a night where he could finally breathe, knowing he had given it his all.

“Drew,��� you whispered, coming up behind him , “You’ve got this. Take a couple of minutes and relax. You can regroup later, I’ll help.”

He turned his head slightly, giving you a sad but appreciative smile. His eyes, usually so bright and full of confidence, now held a trace of self-doubt. “No, honey. Go to bed, it’s late, and you have work tomorrow,” he replied, his voice soft but firm.

But you could hear the underlying exhaustion, the strain of weeks spent chasing perfection. You reached up to rub his shoulders, feeling the tension in his shoulders. “I want to help, please,” you whispered, your voice laced with concern. You couldn’t stand seeing him like this—so worn down, so driven to succeed that he forgot to take care of himself.

Drew hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at you. He could see the worry in your eyes, the way you cared for him so deeply that you were willing to sacrifice your own rest just to be there for him. With a small nod, he finally relented, leaning into you.

“I appreciate you, Y/N. So much,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely let others see. “Sometimes… I’m not sure if you really know how much.”

You smiled at him, your hand sliding down to hold his hand. “I do, Drew. And I’m here because I want to be, because I believe in you.”

Drew’s heart swelled with a mix of love and gratitude as he looked at you, wondering how he got so lucky. You made him nervous in the best way possible—you were his rock, his confidante, the one person he never wanted to let down. He squeezed your hand gently, feeling the warmth of your skin against his, a silent promise that he would do everything in his power to make you proud.

As the night wore on, the two made their way to the after-party, hand in hand, mingling with other actors, directors, and friends. The atmosphere was electric, filled with laughter and celebration. You both had been drinking, more than you would usually allow yourself, but it was impossible not to get swept up in the joy of the evening. He was in his element, smiling and talking with everyone, his happiness contagious and she never wanted the night to end.

Drew glanced over at her, his eyes softening as he took in her appearance. Even in the dim light of the party, she looked stunning, her skin glowing with a slight buzz from all the drinking. There was a relaxed ease about her that he found irresistible. He felt a wave of gratitude wash over him—thankful for you in more ways than he could ever express.

Eventually, the two made their way back to the hotel, stumbling slightly as they laughed together, trying to get the key card to work. They were both still buzzing from the excitement of the evening, but also from the drinks they had. She managed to unlock the door, making her way to the edge of the bed, sitting down to take her off her heels.

As she bent over to remove your shoes, her hair fell forward, framing her face. Drew stood by the door, watching her intently, a small smile playing on his lips. She could feel his gaze on her, a small blush rushing to her face.

“Why are you staring?” she asked, looking up at him with a soft laugh, her nerves fluttering as his eyes made their way up and down her body.

Drew slowly made his way over to her, his tall frame towering above her as he reached out, gently lifting her chin so she looked up to him. “You’ve helped me so much over the last year, you know that, right?” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

She smiled up at him, shaking her head slightly. “You did all the hard work. I just tried to help where I could.”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing against her jaw as he looked at her with a depth of feeling that made her breathing become slower. “And I appreciate that so much… more than words could say.”

Her smile widened, her heart raced as she noticed the intensity in his eyes, the thoughts swirling in his mind. There was something else there, something more. His hand slipped from her chin as he knelt down in front of her, gently taking her heels off. His movements were slow and deliberate, his fingers brushing against her skin as he pressed soft kisses up her leg.

Her eyes widened, a surge of nervous excitement coursing through her as she realized what he was trying to say. He wanted to show her his appreciation, not just in words, but in actions. He looked up at her, his lips hovering just above her knee.

“You’ll let me show you, right?” he murmured into her leg, his voice thick with emotion.

She swallowed hard, nodding quickly as her breath hitched in her throat, feeling dry all of a sudden. She could hardly believe this was happening, but the heat in his gaze left no room for doubt. Drew continued his slow movements, pressing more kisses into her skin as he moved up her thigh, his touch igniting a fire deep within her. He was deliberate, taking his time, making sure she felt every bit of his love and appreciation.

Her head fell back slightly, her hands gripping the sheets as he drew closer to where she needed him most. He was patient, his movements a tender exploration of the connection they shared, a silent promise that he would always cherish her, always show her just how much she meant to him.

Drew finally reached her waist, his breath warm against her skin as he lifted her dress slightly, revealing fabric of her panties. His eyes flicked up to meet hers one last time, seeking permission, the unspoken question lingering in the air. She nodded, biting her lip as anticipation thrummed through her veins.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Drew pushed her panties to the side, his hands firm on her hips as he held her down. His grip was gentle but possessive, a reminder of how much he loved her. His eyes never left hers as he leaned in, his hunger growing stronger, his desire to please her undeniable.

And then, finally, his mouth touched her, the warmth of his tongue sending a shockwave of pleasure through her body. He moved with purpose, swirling around her clit, savoring every taste, and every sound that escaped her lips. The intensity of his touch had her moaning loudly, the sound filling the room, echoing off the walls.

Her hands instinctively found their way to his hair, fingers curling into the soft strands as she held on for dear life. She needed something to anchor herself, something to keep her grounded as his tongue was working against her. Drew responded to her touch, his tongue working faster, determined to draw every ounce of pleasure from her.

“You taste so good, baby.” He said against her, he was relentless, his movements a perfect blend of precision and passion, each stroke of his tongue on her clit was bringing her closer to the edge. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her body trembling as he continued, his hands tightening on her hips to keep her in place. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and love that had her completely under his spell.

Drew’s name fell from her lips in a desperate whisper, her voice trembling, as she buckled her hips against him to feel more pressure. The sensation of his mustache brushing against her, a unique mix of softness and roughness that she loved. It was a small detail, yet it drove her wild, making her cling to him even tighter, her fingers curling into his hair. The feeling was intoxicating, making her feel like she was floating. He responded with a low hum of approval, the vibration sending shivers down her spine as he intensified his efforts, driving her close to come all over his face.

She could feel it building within her, the tension becoming tighter until she thought she might break.

She arched her back, her body reacting to the way his tongue flicked her clit. Her fingers tightened in his hair again, her voice trembling as she whimpered, "Fuck, please don’t stop." The desperation in her voice only spurred him on, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glanced up at her.

He watched the way her body moved, how she arched into him, completely at his mercy. The sight of her like this, lost in the pleasure he was giving her, was making his cock hard. Unable to resist, he leaned in and gently bit down on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, drawing a gasp from her lips.

Then, without warning, he slid a finger inside her, his movements slow and deliberate, wanting to draw out every moment, to let her feel every inch of him. He curled his finger inside her, making her toes curl as a shiver ran through her body.

He maintained his rhythm, his tongue continuing to lick up and down her, as he added another finger, stretching her out. His pace was unhurried, savoring the way she clenched around him, the way her breath hitched with every slow he made.

His eyes never left her face, watching every expression on her face. The way her lips parted, the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way she whispered his name like a prayer—it was intoxicating. He was determined to take his time, to let the pleasure build within her, pushing her closer to the edge until she was ready to fall apart in his hands.

She could feel the tension building in her stomach that made her hips buckle involuntarily as she began to gring up against him. he could sense how close she was, the way her body reacted to him, how she clenched around his fingers, her quiet whimpers growing more desperate. Every subtle sign told him she was going come, and it only fueled his determination to push her over the edge.

When she finally let go, a loud moan escaped her lips, the sound echoing in the room as her oragasm washed over her body. Her hands flew to the bed, grabbing onto the sheets with her legs instinctively clamping around his head, pulling him even closer.

Her mind was still in a blissful haze, reluctant to let go of the sensation that had consumed her. She remained on the edge of the, her body still trembling slightly.

She reached down to him, grabbing the collar of his suit jacket. She pulling him down slighlty, crashing her lips onto him. The suddenness of it took him by surprise, but he quickly melted into her, his tongue making its way into her mouth.

His hands found their way to her waist, as the kiss deepened, he slid his hands lower, cupping her ass firmly. In a smooth motion, he scooped her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as he held her close. The kiss never breaking, their passion growing with every second, a silent understanding passing between them.

Drew moved toward the bathroom, the door already slightly ajar. His steps were purposeful, yet there was a sense of urgency in the way he carried her, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from her for even a moment.

He kicked the door shut behind him, the sound echoing softly in the enclosed space. He set her down on the cool, marble countertop, their lips parting just enough to catch a breath before crashing together again. The mirrored walls reflected their heated exchange, the steam from the earlier shower still lingering, creating a warm, intimate atmosphere around them.

She could feel the coolness of the counter beneath her, contrasting sharply with the heat of Drew’s body pressed against hers. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against her own, as he continued to hold her close, his hands roaming up and down her back, unable to get enough of her.

Their movements were a blur of passion and desire, each touch and kiss more urgent than the last, as if they were trying to convey every unspoken emotion in the heat of the moment. Drew’s hands slid up her thighs, pushing the fabric of her dress higher until it bunched around her hips.

“God, I need to feel you,” he wispered softly against her lips, the urgency and emotion in his voice stirred something deep within her. She smiled against his lips, knowing he would spend the night showing her just how much he appreciated her and more.

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

ok for a drew fic maybe you and drew are new parents and he’s all snappy cause it’s frustrating and he apologizes later that night or something idk it’s been on my mind a lot

Together

A/N: i wrote this last night and i was tired so i hope it’s not that bad. i tried my best

warnings: none just angst and fluff at the end

words: 1.9k

——

The atmosphere inside inside the house feels anything but bright. The soft, rhythmic sound of your baby girl’s breathing is the only thing that calms you as you sit on the edge of the bed in the guest room. It’s quiet here, tucked away from the rest of the house, away from Drew.

You’ve been in here for hours, ever since his harsh words had cut through you like a knife, leaving you stunned and hurt. You hadn’t expected it, hadn’t seen it coming. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it, the sharpness in his tone, the frustration that seemed to boil over into anger, directed at you when all you were trying to do was hold everything together.

“She won’t stop crying, Y/N! Can’t you just do something?” he’d snapped, his voice loud enough to startle the baby in your arms. Her cries had only gotten louder, and your heart had broken a little more with every word that came out of his mouth.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. You were both exhausted, both overwhelmed, but you were supposed to be in this together. You were supposed to be a team. And yet, when things got tough, instead of leaning on each other, it felt like he was pushing you away, like you were failing him somehow.

You’d had enough. You’d left the living room without a word, carrying your daughter with you as you retreated to the guest room. You didn’t even look back to see if Drew was following. You couldn’t bear to see the frustration on his face, couldn’t handle the way his anger made you feel like you were completely alone in this.

The day passes slowly, each hour dragging on as you do your best to take care of your baby while keeping your distance from Drew. You hear him moving around the house, but he doesn’t come near the guest room. You’re not sure if he’s giving you space because he knows he crossed a line, or if he’s just too wrapped up in his own frustration to care. Either way, it hurts.

You spend most of the day in a haze, your emotions raw and close to the surface. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and it’s all you can do to keep going. You feed the baby, change her, rock her to sleep when she gets fussy, but your mind keeps drifting back to Drew, to the way he snapped at you, the way he made you feel like you weren’t doing enough.

By the time evening rolls around, you’re completely drained. You’ve barely eaten, barely slept, and your nerves are frayed to the point of breaking. The baby is finally asleep in the bassinet beside the bed, and you’re sitting there, staring at the wall, trying to hold back the tears that have been threatening to spill over all day.

And then there’s a soft knock on the door.

You don’t respond at first, hoping that whoever it is will just go away. But the knock comes again, a little louder this time, and you know it’s Drew. You can feel his presence even before he speaks, can sense the tension in the air as he waits for you to answer.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft, hesitant, and it only makes the ache in your chest worse. “Can I come in?”

You stay silent, not sure if you even want to see him right now. Part of you wants to open the door, let him in, let him apologize, but another part of you is still too hurt, too angry to even look at him.

“Please,” he says after a moment, his voice breaking slightly. “I need to talk to you.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you try to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you get up and walk to the door, opening it just enough to see him standing there, looking more tired than you’ve ever seen him.

His eyes are red-rimmed, his face pale, and there’s a desperation in his expression that tugs at your heart even though you’re still angry. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like the weight of everything is finally crashing down on him.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, his voice thick with emotion. “Y/N, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was frustrated and tired, but that’s no excuse. You’re doing everything you can, and I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

You stay silent, watching him as he steps closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out to you. He doesn’t touch you, just holds his hands out, like he’s waiting for you to decide whether or not to let him in.

“I’m an idiot,” he continues when you don’t say anything, his voice trembling. “I know I am. I’ve been walking around all day thinking about what I said, about how I made you feel, and I hate myself for it. You’ve been amazing, Y/N, and I’ve been a jerk. I should have been supporting you, not tearing you down. I don’t deserve you.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret that’s written all over his face, and it makes your heart ache. But you’re still so hurt, so angry that he would snap at you like that, especially when you’re both going through the same thing.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you finally whisper, your voice shaking as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. “I’m trying so hard, Drew. I’m doing everything I can, and it’s still not enough. And then you yelled at me like I was the one failing. Do you know how that made me feel?”

He closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. “I know,” he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. “I know, and I hate myself for it. You didn’t deserve that. You’re an amazing mother, Y/N. You’re doing everything right. I was just…” He pauses, taking a shaky breath. “I was just scared. I felt so helpless, and instead of dealing with that, I took it out on you. And I’m so sorry.”

You stare at him for a long moment, your heart torn between the pain he caused and the love you still feel for him. He looks so broken, so desperate for your forgiveness, and you can see that he means every word. He knows he messed up, and he’s trying to make it right.

Finally, you let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping as the last of your anger starts to fade. “You really hurt me, Drew,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “I needed you, and instead of being there for me, you pushed me away.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice thick with guilt. “I know, and I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Just… please don’t shut me out.”

For a long moment, you don’t say anything, just looking at him, trying to decide if you’re ready to forgive him, if you’re ready to let go of the hurt and let him back in. And then, finally, you take a step forward, reaching out to him.

He’s on you in an instant, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid you might slip away. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s trembling slightly as he holds you, and it makes you realize just how scared he’s been, just how much he’s been hurting too.

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so sorry for what I said. You’re everything to me. Please forgive me.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into his embrace, letting his warmth and his love surround you. “I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice barely audible. “But you can’t talk to me like that again, Drew. We’re supposed to be in this together.”

“We are,” he promises, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “We are, and I’ll do better. I promise, Y/N. I’ll be better.”

You nod, feeling a tear slip down your cheek as the last of your anger fades away, leaving only the love you have for him. He wipes the tear away with his thumb, his touch gentle, and then leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, a kiss filled with all the love and regret he’s been holding inside.

When he pulls back, there’s a small, hopeful smile on his face, and it makes your heart swell with affection. “Come back to our room,” he says softly, his voice almost pleading. “I don’t want to sleep without you. I don’t want to be apart anymore.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking back at the bassinet where your daughter is sleeping peacefully, but then you nod, taking his hand. “Okay,” you whisper, letting him lead you back to your room.

The house is quiet as you walk through the halls, the weight of the day’s emotions starting to lift as you return to the familiarity of your shared space. Drew doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time, holding onto you like you’re his lifeline, like he’s afraid to let you go.

When you reach your bedroom, he pulls you into his arms again, kissing you deeply, as if trying to convey all the things he couldn’t say earlier. And you kiss him back, letting yourself get lost in the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of knowing that despite everything, you’re still in this together.

Finally, he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours as he takes a deep breath. “I’m going to do better, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice filled with determination. “I’m going to be the partner you deserve. I’m going to be here for you, no matter what.”

You smile, a soft, tired smile, but one filled with hope. “We’ll figure it out,” you say softly, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Together.”

“Together,” he echoes, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leading you to the bed.

You both climb in, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you as you snuggle under the covers. Drew pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you as he holds you tightly, like he never wants to let you go.

And as you lay there, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body against yours, you feel a sense of peace that you haven’t felt in days. The road ahead might still be difficult, but you know that you’re not alone, that you have each other, and that’s all that matters.

“I love you,” Drew whispers again, his voice barely audible as he starts to drift off to sleep.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, closing your eyes and letting yourself finally relax, finally let go of the day’s tension.

As you fall asleep in his arms, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope, a sense that no matter what challenges come your way, you’ll be able to face them together.

——

ps: i have another drew fic coming soon get ready

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

Together again

synopsis: spending the day together on the boat after months apart. every small gesture, touch, and whispered words from drew fills the emptiness left by their time apart.

The air is warm, carrying the scent of saltwater, and you can’t help but steal glances at Drew, trying to soak in every bit of him now that he’s finally here. After months apart, this moment feels almost too good to be true.

As you approach the boat, Drew’s hand finds the small of your back, guiding you gently. “Watch your head, baby,” he says, his voice low and filled with that familiar concern that always makes your heart skip a beat. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks at you, a quiet care that makes you feel protected, cherished.

You nod, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. It’s a small thing, really, but the way he’s always looking out for you, making sure you’re safe—it fills you with warmth. You step carefully into the boat, Drew’s hand never leaving your back until you’re seated. The simple act of him being there, watching out for you, makes you feel deeply loved. It’s in moments like this that you’re reminded how much he cares, how much he always has.

Once you’re both settled, the boat drifts lazily over the water, each gentle sway a reminder that, finally, you’re here with him. Drew sits close, his arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. You lean into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath, the solid comfort of his presence after so long apart. The sun casts a golden glow across the water, but all you can think about is how long you’ve waited for this, to be with him, to feel him beside you again.

Your mind wanders back to the nights alone in the apartment. The quiet had felt suffocating, each creak of the floorboards amplifying the emptiness. You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, tears slipping down your cheeks as you longed to hear his voice, to feel the weight of him beside you. Even the simple sound of him turning the page of a book in the living room—something so ordinary—had become something you craved. You missed everything about him, even the things you hadn’t realized you’d taken for granted.

Drew’s voice cuts through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. You turn to him, and the tenderness in his eyes nearly makes you melt. “I love you,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten with emotion.

He sees you, truly sees you, in a way that makes you feel like the most cherished person in the world. The sadness that had gripped your heart loosens, replaced by the warmth of his words. Drew’s hand moves to your back, rubbing slow, soothing circles, his touch grounding you in the present. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his gaze drifting over your face, the way the sunlight dances on your skin. There’s awe in his eyes, as if he’s seeing you for the first time all over again, and it makes you feel loved in a way that words can’t fully capture.

His fingers find their way to your hair, gently playing with the strands, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, not from the cool breeze off the water, but from the certainty in his voice.

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the sensation of his touch, the feel of his breath against your skin. The world around you fades into the background—the gentle rocking of the boat, the sound of the water lapping at the sides—it’s all there, but secondary to the way he’s holding you, touching you. You can feel his love in every small gesture, every soft word whispered just for you. It’s in the way his hand lingers on your back, the gentle way his fingers trace patterns on your skin, like he’s trying to remind you with each touch how much you mean to him. It’s in the softness of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the most precious thing he knows.

With every gesture, every whisper, you feel yourself falling more deeply into this moment, into him. It’s like he’s filling up all the empty spaces the distance left behind, surrounding you with a sense of completeness that you never want to lose. Each brush of his lips against your skin, each whispered reassurance, pulls you further into the reality that he’s here, that he loves you, and that this—being with him like this—is exactly where you’re meant to be.

You tilt your head up, and he meets you halfway, his lips pressing softly against yours in a kiss that feels like coming home. It’s slow, tender, and when he pulls back, his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek.

He looks at you like he’s memorizing every detail, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. “I missed you so much,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. And you can see it in his eyes, hear it in the way he says it—he missed you just as much, maybe even more, than you missed him.

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

midnight snack 👅💦

“Why you actin’ shy for now?” Drew asked, smirk on his face as his large hands yanked your thighs apart that you were squeezing together. Your pussy was leaking, dripping onto white sheets as your eyes raked over the stunning man in front of you. The expensive suit jacket he had been wearing was placed carefully in the chair, the clean white button down opened to reveal his toned stomach. You watched with a bite to your lower lip as he kneeled down, his blue eyes shining as he looked up at you. “Keep your legs open, understand me?” He said, voice low.

You nodded, your mouth falling open in a soft moan as his tongue began licking through your sweet folds. He immediately groaned, the taste of your leaking hole exactly what he needed after such an incredible day. His pert nose rubbed against your clit, his mouth hungrily diving in for more as he yanked your hips down further. “Pussy is so goddamn wet for me.” He groaned, your juices already leaking down his chin.

You reached a hand down to tug at his grown out hair, gripping it tightly as he sucked on your aching clit. “D-drew..” You whined, loving the feeling you got to be the one calling out his name. He hummed against your core, his tongue sliding in your creamy hole as he rubbed the tip of his nose against your pearl. “Let daddy drink that sweet shit up.” He mumbled, a desperate drawl from the man’s voice whom was in love with you and you only. The one whose handsome face got to be between your thighs in the hotel room of Venice Italy after the amazing film festival he got to experience with you.

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

Please a Drew and reader. They are in the dating faze getting to know each other. However Drew is having some trouble getting to know her. Reader has been in a quite toxic relationship before with a guy that could be mean, did not like when she was being physically loving (holding hands, kissing, hugging) brushing her off literally and could sometimes make her feel like she was being a burden whenever she was talking, which in turn has made her not open up to much, in fear, that she will come off as annoying. When they are having a date at home, Drew pulls her close to hold her and kiss her forehead, but she pulls away after awhile. He then brings up what has been bothering him, afraid, sad and a bit nervous that she does not like him as much as he likes her.

you can trust me — DREW STARKEY

authors note hi baby! thank you for the request and sorry it came so late when you initially requested. life has been crazy since my semester has begun.

REQUEST— open

summary holding back when it comes to physical touch and being your complete self in a new relationship with someone new.

warning(s) mentions of past toxic relationships, insecurities, questioning self-worth.

Drew and you have been seeing each other for almost a month. You haven't felt so happy in a long time to be with someone that values, supports, and loves you for who you are.

Meeting him was unexpected but came into your life when you needed him the most. Drew is very gentle with you and patient in ways you couldn't describe.

Drew has noticed that you are reluctant to touch him and quickly pull away or get nervous before taking his hand. This is something he has noticed about you as you have spent more time with him. He wants to know why you're like this but wants you to be comfortable.

Both are getting to know one other. You haven't gathered the guts to discuss your previous relationship with your ex, who treated you like dirt and never wanted you to touch him. Whether it be holding hands, kissing, embracing, or any other physical contact.

Physical touch is a part of your love language. So being pushed away from someone you care about while attempting to express your feelings for them makes you feel burdened.

Your ex ruined you in a lot of ways.

Once you met Drew, immediately knowing you can be yourself with him without him retaliating. But, you haven't showed him that side of you yet because of your past.

Drew invited you to his apartment for dinner tonight and prepared your favorite pasta dish. He understands you've had a difficult week at work, so he thought inviting you over for dinner would cheer you up.

"Thank you for dinner, Drew; it was delicious," you say, smiling sweetly as you finish your pasta.

"I really appreciate that, Y/N," he says with a smile. "I'm always open to making you dinner."

He’s so sweet

Drew and you cleaned the kitchen before heading to the living room to watch a movie to end the night. He thought it would be good to bring out the food and drinks while you waited on the couch.

"What movie do you wanna watch?" With the TV remote in his left hand while looking at the movie selections.

"Uhh pitch perfect" you reply.

Drew nods in agreement, clicking the movie.

Drew tries to wrap his right arm around your shoulder and kiss you on the forehead halfway through the film, but you pull away hesitantly.

"Everything alright, Y/N?" he frowns with emotion and confusion, "did I do something wrong?"

Your heart fell as the question hovered there. You had been sensing this for days, even weeks, so you knew it was coming. But now that it was here, you were at a loss for words, unable to respond or justify it without driving him away.

When you eventually raised your head to meet his, you could feel the sorrow in his eyes, which tightened your chest. Your voice was barely heard as you murmured, "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

Everything in you was crumbling all together.

"Then why?" With a hand sweeping through his hair, he trailed off, unsure of how to carry on. "Why are you putting distance between us? Are you —? When he began again, you could hear his hesitation and fragility in his voice. "Do you not like me as much as I like you?"

Please don't say that

His words punched you in the gut— hitting you so deep. This wasn't fair to him what so ever. You like him as much as he likes you. Feelings are mutual.

"It's not that," you answered hastily, your voice shaking as you tried to fight back the tears that were about to fall. Yes, Drew, I do like you. Many times.

"So why," He asked. Seeking answers, he gazed at you, his eyes darting over yours. "What makes me think that you're scared to let me in?"

Fiddling with your fingers, trying to gather the words to say. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. Drew knows about your last relationship but not the whole gist.

“I’ve been hurt before,” you began, your voice trembling. “My last relationship… it wasn’t good. He made me feel like I was too much, like I was annoying whenever I tried to talk or show affection. He’d brush me off, make me feel like I was a burden. And I guess… I guess I’m afraid of that happening again.”

Drew's expression softens with hurt, anger, and confusion. He continues to let you speak while holding your hands in reassurance—thumb gently circling over your knuckles. You can't help but let a few tears as you speak.

"I'm so sorry you went through that."

"It's not your fault. I've gotten so used to holding everything in, I didnt want you to think of me differently and walk away from me" you confess with your chest.

Drew's other hand reached up to softly cup your cheek and use his thumb to wipe away the tears while his grip on your hand tightened. He said, "You're not going to drive me away," and you might believe him because of the quiet passion in his voice. 

"Y/N, I like you just the way you are. I was immediately drawn to your lovely demeanor and am still doing so now. Nothing you are doing is wrong. His eyes never leaving yours, "We can take this at any pace you want and I'll still be here."

You feel a sense of relief fall off your shoulders. The fear you've been holding back slowly drifts away.

"I want you to show how much you like me whether that be words or physical touch. I would never pull you away."

You didn't push away as he moved in to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. For the first time in a long time, you felt as though maybe—just maybe—you could begin to lower your barriers as you allowed yourself to lean into him and experience the warmth and security of his embrace.

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pairing: drew starkey x reader

summary: you and drew have been best friends since childhood, sharing everything-until drew's acting career takes off. as odessa enters drew's life and their on-screen chemistry blurs the lines of their friendship, you feel the deepening void between you and the boy you once knew. invited to a family bbq at the starkey, you hope to reconnect with drew. however, you soon find yourself on the sidelines, watching as odessa captures all of drew's attention. a devastating scene in ‘hellraiser’—a film that stars both drew and odessa-sends you spiraling into the realization that drew may never see you the way you see him. over the course of a painful night and the aftermath, long-buried emotions rise to the surface, culminating in a heart-wrenching confrontation. will drew finally realize what you mean to him, or will you be forced to let him go for good? | words count: 7,3k (sorry!!!)

warning(s): NO HATES TOWARD ODESSA OR ANY ACTORS/ FRIENDS OF DREW! english is not my native language. severe emotional turmoil, themes of unrequited love, detailed internal conflict, intense feelings of isolation, push-and-pull dynamics, emotional abandonment, moments of painful rejection, and slow-burning angst.

au: like, reblog and comment are much appreciated. i actually listen to THIS SONG while writing this, discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @drewstarkeys-world @maybankslover @akobx @rubixgsworld @enjoymyloves @xoxohoneymoongirl @rafecameroncoke @httpsdrewstarkey @tiaamberxx @wxn-drlst @ratatioulle @zizuras @flvredcas @abrmscline @noobmazter69 @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry

The summers were always the best part of your childhood. You and Drew Starkey had been practically inseparable since you were six years old, running through the wide backyard of the Starkey home, laughing until your stomach hurt and your lungs ached from the chase. Your families were close—so close that your mothers, Jodi and your mom, would joke that you and Drew were "destined for each other."

"Y/N and Joseph," Jodi would say with a smile as she watched the two of you playing in the grass. "They’re going to get married someday. I’ve always known."

Your mother would laugh, glancing over at you, sweaty and carefree as you chased Drew through the sprinklers. "I’d be happy with that, Jodi," she’d reply, "It would be perfect."

You didn’t think much of it then. To you, Drew was just Drew—your best friend, the boy who pulled you out of the creek when you fell in one summer and got scraped knees trying to rescue you. You couldn’t imagine life without him, but back then, you were still young. The idea of growing up and getting married seemed like something distant, almost laughable.

One summer, when you were about six, you had a moment that defined your bond. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden light over the Starkey backyard. You and Drew were sprawled on the grass after an afternoon of playing tag, breathing hard but smiling at each other.

“Joseph,” you began, turning your head toward him as you lay beside him, “can I call you something else? Like a nickname?”

Drew raised an eyebrow and rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “Like what?”

“I don’t know... Drew? It sounds cooler.”

He blinked, then laughed, as though the idea of you giving him a special name was the best thing he had heard all day. “Sure,” he said, grinning. “Call me Drew.”

From that day on, the name stuck. Only you called him that, while the rest of the world called him Joseph. It was your little secret, a bond that made you feel like you shared something special. And you did.

Every summer, you counted down the days until you could visit the Starkey family. It was tradition—long, lazy afternoons spent playing outside, followed by evenings watching the stars come out. The best part, though, was the mornings.

Drew knew how much you loved watching the sunrise. Each summer, no matter how early it was, he would wake up with you before dawn, just so the two of you could sit on the hill behind the house and watch the sky change from dark blue to shades of pink, orange, and gold.

“Think we’ll always do this?” you had asked one morning, your knees pulled to your chest as the horizon turned golden.

Drew looked at you, the early morning light reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah,” he had said simply. “We’ll always be friends.”

At that moment, as the sun bathed you both in warmth, you believed him with all your heart.

When you were twelve, your family made the big move to Asheville, North Carolina, to be closer to the Starkeys. At first, it was a dream come true—you’d see Drew year-round now, not just in the summers. But as exciting as the move was, it came with its own challenges. A new school, new classmates, and a feeling of unfamiliarity that settled deep in your bones.

You weren’t exactly the social butterfly Drew was. He thrived in new environments, easily making friends with his magnetic personality. He was taller than most boys his age, athletic, and undeniably charming. He played basketball, acted in the school plays, and it seemed like everyone was drawn to him. You, on the other hand, were quieter, more reserved. Drew was your anchor, the one person who made you feel like you belonged.

Despite being in different classes, Drew always made time for you. He’d wait for you after school, leaning against the fence near the basketball courts, a crooked smile on his face as he waved you over.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he’d tease. “I’ve got snacks for us before practice.”

It became a routine—him waiting for you, you showing up at his basketball practices with snacks or a drink to keep him going. Sometimes, you’d sit on the bleachers, watching him run drills, marveling at how easily he seemed to fit into this new world. You were happy for him, of course, but there was always a small, nagging feeling inside you, something that whispered that you were being left behind.

You brushed it off. After all, Drew was still Drew—your best friend, the boy who stood up for you when some kids at school made fun of your appearance. You’d never forget the day one of Drew’s classmates, a girl from the drama club, sneered at you during lunch.

“How can someone like you even be friends with Joseph Starkey?” she had said, her voice dripping with disdain.

You had felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, your fists clenching at your sides. But before you could respond, Drew had appeared out of nowhere, stepping in front of you protectively.

“What did you just say?” Drew’s voice was low, dangerous, his eyes narrowing at the girl.

The girl faltered, shrinking under his glare. “I— I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Drew snapped, his voice ice-cold. “If I ever hear you say something like that again, you’ll regret it.”

The girl had stammered an apology before scurrying away, and Drew had turned to you with a reassuring smile, as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t listen to people like her,” he had said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You’re worth so much more than their words.”

From that day on, you never doubted that Drew had your back. He was your protector, your confidant, the one person who made you feel safe in a world that often felt overwhelming.

When Drew turned seventeen, he became more serious about his future. You spent countless nights together, talking about his dreams, about how he wanted to pursue acting full-time after high school. It was clear to you that he had the passion, the drive, and the talent to make it big.

The day Drew landed his first acting role was a day you’d never forget. You were sitting in your living room when Drew burst through the front door, grinning from ear to ear.

“Y/N! I got the part!” he shouted, holding up a script in triumph. “I actually got the part!”

Your heart soared with pride as you jumped up from the couch, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Drew, that’s amazing! I knew you’d do it!”

The two of you celebrated that night, just the two of you. Drew asked you to help him practice his lines, and for hours, you sat on the floor of your living room, reading through the script with him. He was nervous, pacing back and forth as he recited his lines, but you were there, steady and patient, helping him work through every scene.

Before his first day on set, Drew had come to you, his usual confidence replaced with anxiety. “What if I mess up?” he had asked, his voice wavering. “What if I’m not good enough?”

You had smiled softly, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small, crocheted keychain—a little dog with floppy ears that you had made yourself. “Here,” you said, handing it to him. “Consider this your good luck charm. Keep it with you, and I promise you’ll be fine.”

Drew had chuckled, pocketing the keychain with a fond smile. “Thanks, sunshine. I’ll keep it with me, always.”

That first role was just the beginning. After high school, Drew went off to college to study acting, and though the distance was hard, you made sure to keep in touch. Late-night phone calls, long text conversations—Drew made sure you were still part of his life, even from miles away.

And when he landed his breakout role on the Netflix series Outer Banks, you were the first person he called.

“Y/N! Guess what?” Drew’s voice had crackled through the phone, filled with excitement. “I got a role on a Netflix show! Can you believe it?”

Your heart had swelled with pride, even as a small, selfish part of you wondered what this meant for your friendship. “Drew, that’s incredible! I’m so proud of you!”

You meant every word, but as Drew’s career took off, the distance between you began to grow—not just physically, but emotionally. His life was changing, and you weren’t sure if you still had a place in it.

The first time Drew mentioned Odessa A’zion, you hadn’t thought much of it. She was a fellow actor on Outer Banks, and Drew had talked about how they had become fast friends on set. But as time passed, it became clear that Odessa was more than just a friend to Drew—she was someone important to him.

At first, you tried to brush off the feeling of unease that settled in your chest every time Drew talked about her. After all, he was bound to make new friends in the industry. But it became harder to ignore the way he talked about Odessa—the way his eyes lit up when he mentioned her name, the way she seemed to occupy so much of his attention.

The first time you met Odessa was at Drew’s birthday party. He had flown back to North Carolina to celebrate with friends and family, and you were excited to see him in person after months of only talking through texts and phone calls.

When you arrived at the restaurant, your heart raced with anticipation. It had been so long since you’d seen Drew, and part of you hoped that things would feel just like they used to. But as soon as you walked in, you saw him sitting with Odessa.

They were deep in conversation, laughing together as if they were the only two people in the room. You felt a pang of jealousy, something you hadn’t expected. Drew had always been your person, your best friend. But now, watching him with Odessa, it felt like he was slipping away.

When Drew finally noticed you, his face lit up with a smile. “Y/N!” he called out, standing up to wrap you in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

You hugged him back, but something felt off. The easy familiarity that had always existed between you was strained, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

Odessa greeted you with a polite smile, introducing herself, but the way she looked at Drew—like he was the center of her universe—only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Drew introduced you to his castmates, and while everyone was friendly, you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider. Drew and Odessa were inseparable, their laughter filling the room as they shared inside jokes you weren’t part of.

Later that night, as the party began to wind down, Drew pulled you aside. “I need to take Odessa home,” he explained, his voice apologetic. “She had a little too much to drink.”

You forced a smile, even as your heart sank. “Yeah, of course. Go ahead.”

As you watched them leave together, something inside you shifted. You couldn’t ignore it anymore—the distance between you and Drew wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. And it hurt more than you were willing to admit.

Months passed, and while you and Drew still kept in touch, things weren’t the same. The texts were shorter, the phone calls less frequent, and every time you tried to bring up something personal, something about you, the conversation somehow always shifted back to Odessa or Drew’s new life in Los Angeles. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about his success—you were proud of him—but it hurt to feel like an afterthought, someone on the periphery of his increasingly glamorous life.

When Drew invited you to his family’s annual BBQ, you hesitated. Part of you wanted to turn down the invitation, not wanting to face him and Odessa again. But the other part of you—the part that still longed for the closeness you once shared—couldn’t say no. This was the Starkey house, the place that had always felt like a second home to you, the place where your friendship with Drew had blossomed.

The afternoon sun was just beginning to set as you arrived at the familiar Starkey home. The front porch was adorned with string lights, and the smell of grilled burgers wafted through the air, mixing with the sound of laughter from the backyard. It should’ve felt like a homecoming, but instead, all you felt was a growing sense of unease.

As you stepped into the backyard, the knot in your stomach tightened. Drew was there, sitting beside Odessa, his arm casually draped along the back of her chair. They were laughing, their heads close together as if they were sharing some private joke. For a moment, it was like watching strangers—people you knew but didn’t recognize anymore.

Before you could retreat, McKayla spotted you. “Y/N!” she called out, running over with a grin. Her hug was warm, and it reminded you of why you had come. The Starkeys were still like family, even if your relationship with Drew had changed.

“I missed you so much!” McKayla said, pulling back to look at you with a beaming smile. “It’s been forever.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, your smile softening as you hugged her again. If anything, McKayla had always made you feel welcome, like you were still an important part of their family.

Just as McKayla let go, Todd walked over, his familiar grin lighting up his face. “There’s my favorite little girl!” he boomed, wrapping you in one of his signature bear hugs. “How’ve you been, Y/N?”

“I’ve been good, Todd,” you said, your voice a little quieter now. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know, keeping busy,” Todd replied, his tone warm. “We’ve missed you around here, you know. This place isn’t the same without you.”

Jodi joined the group, pulling you into a soft hug. “Y/N, it’s so good to see you again,” she said, her smile kind but tinged with something deeper—an understanding, perhaps, of the distance that had grown between you and her son. “How are your parents?”

“They’re good,” you answered. “They’re actually in Rome right now, celebrating their 35th anniversary.”

“Ah, Rome,” Jodi sighed wistfully. “Lucky them. They always did know how to celebrate big.”

You smiled at the familiarity of their banter, grateful for their warmth, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tightening in your chest. Every few minutes, your eyes would drift back to Drew and Odessa. The easy way they sat together, the way Drew’s hand occasionally brushed her arm as he spoke—it was hard to ignore. Even harder to accept.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” McKayla suggested, sensing your unease and pulling you away from the crowd. As you followed her inside, you passed Drew and Odessa. Drew glanced up at you, a smile briefly crossing his face.

“Hey, Y/N! Glad you could make it,” Drew said, his tone casual, but there was a distance in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, even though your heart ached.

You could feel Odessa’s eyes on you, though her smile was polite. “Nice to see you again,” she added, her tone friendly but not warm. You nodded, but the knot in your chest tightened as the conversation shifted back to something between her and Drew.

As the night progressed, Drew suggested watching Hellraiser—the movie he and Odessa had filmed together. It was the project he had talked about non-stop for months, and while you had been happy for him, you had avoided watching it. The idea of seeing Drew and Odessa on screen together, so intimately connected, made you uneasy.

“I think you’ll like it,” Drew said as the group settled in front of the outdoor screen. “It’s one of my favorite projects.”

You sat between McKayla and Todd, grateful for the distance between you and Drew, but as the opening credits rolled, the familiar knot in your stomach returned.

At first, you tried to focus on the movie, telling yourself it was just another role for Drew—just a job, nothing more. But as the film progressed, your discomfort grew. Drew’s character, Trevor, and Odessa’s character, Riley, had an undeniable chemistry, one that felt far too real. Every glance, every touch between them on screen felt intimate, too personal.

And then the first love scene played out.

You had prepared yourself for it, but nothing could have braced you for how raw it felt to watch Drew and Odessa in such a vulnerable, intimate moment. The room around you seemed to fade, and all you could focus on was the way Drew looked at her on screen, the way their bodies intertwined in a way that felt too real to be acting.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you fought to keep your expression neutral, but the weight in your chest was growing unbearable. You hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see him like this, to be confronted with the reality of how much you were no longer a part of his life.

A lump formed in your throat as you forced yourself to stay seated, but when the second love scene began, you couldn’t take it anymore. The emotions you had been pushing down for months suddenly overwhelmed you, and without a word, you stood up, muttering a quick excuse to McKayla before making your way to the front porch.

As soon as you were outside, you collapsed onto the porch steps, gasping for air as the tears finally spilled over. You had been trying so hard to keep it together, but seeing Drew and Odessa like that—so close, so connected—had broken something inside you.

“Y/N?”

McKayla’s voice was soft, and you quickly wiped at your eyes as she stepped outside, sitting down beside you. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just sat with you in the quiet, the sound of the movie still playing faintly in the background.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked, her voice filled with concern.

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I don’t think I can do this, McKayla. Watching them together... it’s too much.”

McKayla sighed, her brow furrowing in sympathy. “I get it, Y/N. It’s hard. But you have to talk to him. He doesn’t know how much you’re hurting.”

“I don’t think he even cares,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “He’s so wrapped up in Odessa and his career... I don’t think I matter to him anymore.”

McKayla shook her head firmly, turning to face you fully. “That’s not true, Y/N. I know my brother. He still cares about you—he’s just blind to everything right now. But you need to tell him how you feel. You deserve that.”

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” McKayla said softly, her hand resting on your shoulder. “You’ve been there for him through everything, Y/N. He needs to understand how much you’re hurting.”

You nodded, but the thought of confronting Drew still terrified you. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face him, to lay everything out on the table. But one thing was clear—you couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay. You couldn’t keep carrying this hurt on your own.

The next morning, you woke up with the same heavy feeling in your chest. You had tossed and turned all night, replaying the movie over and over in your mind, each scene only deepening the ache in your heart. You needed to leave. As much as you loved the Starkeys, being here—being around Drew and Odessa—was too painful.

You packed your bags quietly, leaving a note for McKayla and Todd, thanking them for their hospitality. Slipping out of the house before anyone else woke up, you drove home, your heart heavy with unresolved emotions.

Back at the Starkey house, McKayla sat at the kitchen table with Todd, sipping her coffee as the morning sunlight streamed through the windows.

“She left early,” McKayla said quietly, setting her mug down with a frown. “She didn’t say goodbye.”

Todd looked up from his newspaper, his brow furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like her. Did something happen?”

McKayla sighed, glancing out the window. “I think things are worse than we thought. Y/N... she’s been really struggling, Dad. Watching Drew and Odessa together... it’s been breaking her heart.”

Todd’s face softened with understanding, his eyes clouded with concern. “She’s been a part of this family for so long. I hate to think she’s feeling left out.”

Before McKayla could respond, Drew wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes groggily. “Morning,” he mumbled, heading straight for the coffee pot. But when he noticed the tension in the room, he paused, frowning.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking between McKayla and Todd.

McKayla exchanged a glance with her father before turning to Drew. “Y/N left early this morning,” she said, her voice heavy with worry. “She didn’t say goodbye.”

Drew’s frown deepened, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What? Why?”

Todd sighed, folding his newspaper as he looked at his son. “I think you know why, Drew. Y/N’s been feeling like you’ve pushed her aside for a long time now. Last night... watching you and Odessa on screen... it was too much for her.”

Drew paled, guilt washing over his face. “What? I— I didn’t mean to—” He trailed off, his voice cracking with emotion.

McKayla crossed her arms, her tone gentle but firm. “Drew, she’s been there for you through everything. But you’ve been so caught up in your own life that you didn’t realize how much you were hurting her.”

Drew’s face fell, the weight of his sister’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had known something was wrong between you two, but he hadn’t realized how deep the hurt ran.

“I need to fix this,” Drew muttered, setting down his coffee and running a hand through his hair. Without another word, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door, determination written all over his face.

You weren’t expecting Drew to show up at your door. After the overwhelming emotions of the previous night, all you wanted was some distance—some space to breathe, to think. The moment you opened the door and saw Drew standing on your porch, his expression filled with a mix of regret and urgency, your heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

“Y/N,” Drew began, his voice soft but strained. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

You hesitated for a moment, gripping the edge of the door, your mind torn between letting him in and closing the door on everything you’d been feeling. Part of you wanted to push him away—to protect yourself from the pain that had been eating away at you for so long. But another part of you—a much deeper part—wanted answers. Needed them.

With a reluctant sigh, you stepped back and motioned for Drew to come in.

He walked into your living room, the air thick with tension. As you closed the door behind him, you couldn’t help but notice the way he looked around, as though searching for something familiar to hold on to. His eyes briefly landed on a photo of the two of you from years ago, sitting on the mantle—a reminder of better times, of the friendship that had once been your anchor.

Drew stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes downcast. It was clear that he was struggling to find the right words, but the silence between you was too much to bear.

“You left without saying goodbye,” Drew finally said, his voice almost a whisper. There was a vulnerability in his tone, something you hadn’t heard from him in a long time.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Yeah, I did. I couldn’t stay, Drew.”

He glanced up at you, his eyes filled with guilt. “Why? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you looked away. “Talk to you? Drew, when have we really talked lately? Every conversation we’ve had for months has been about Odessa or your career. You barely even notice I’m there anymore.”

Drew flinched at your words, the weight of them hitting him hard. “That’s not true, Y/N. I care about you—I’ve always cared.”

“Really?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it. Do you even realize how long I’ve been feeling like this? How long I’ve been watching you slip away, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t losing you?”

Drew opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. The dam of emotions you had been holding back for so long finally broke, and the words came tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Do you know how hard it’s been, Drew? To sit on the sidelines, watching you live this new life, while I feel like I’m not even part of it anymore? I’ve stood by you through everything—every audition, every role, every milestone—and when it was my turn, when it was something important to me, you weren’t there.”

Your voice cracked as you continued, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over. “You missed my graduation, Drew. Do you know how much that hurt? You promised you’d be there, and you didn’t show up. I waited for you. I waited for you because I thought, ‘This is Drew. He’ll come. He’ll be there for me like I’ve always been there for him.’ But you didn’t. And when you said you’d make it up to me, I thought maybe, just maybe, we’d have one night where it would just be the two of us, like old times. But you brought her.”

Drew’s face fell, his expression filled with regret. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“You didn’t realize because you never asked,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with the weight of all the unspoken pain. “You were so caught up in your own world, in your new life with Odessa, that you didn’t even notice I was falling apart.”

Drew’s eyes were filled with anguish, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did,” you said, your voice cracking with the weight of those words. “You hurt me, Drew. Every time I saw you with her, every time you talked about her like she was the only thing that mattered to you, it felt like a knife in my chest. And I tried to be okay with it. I tried to tell myself that you deserved to be happy, that you deserved to have someone who understood your world. But it didn’t stop the pain.”

Drew took a step closer to you, his hands trembling as he reached out, but he stopped short, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. I was selfish, Y/N. I got caught up in everything—my career, Odessa—and I didn’t stop to think about how it was affecting you. And I hate myself for that.”

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, but the hurt still sat heavy in your chest. “You forgot me,” you whispered, the words so quiet you weren’t sure if he even heard them. “I was there for you through everything, and when I needed you, you forgot me.”

Drew’s face contorted with guilt and pain, and he stepped closer, his voice pleading. “I didn’t forget you, Y/N. I swear, I didn’t. I just... I got lost. I let everything else consume me, and I pushed you away without even realizing it. But I never stopped caring about you. I never stopped needing you in my life.”

You met his gaze, your heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his eyes. Part of you wanted to believe him—to believe that he hadn’t meant to hurt you, that he was still the same Drew you had always known. But the pain was still too fresh, too raw.

“You didn’t need me, Drew,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You needed her. Every time I saw you, it was like I was just... there. Like I was some ghost from your past, watching as you built a new life without me.”

Drew shook his head, his voice breaking. “No. No, that’s not true. Odessa was just... she was just a friend. I never saw her as anything more. But you—I’ve always seen you. You’ve always been more than just a friend to me.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “What are you saying, Drew?”

“I’m saying that I love you, Y/N,” Drew said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long, but I was too blind to see it. Too blind to realize how much I was hurting you by pushing you away. But it’s always been you. It’s always been you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

You stared at him, your heart racing, your mind struggling to process what he had just said. “Don’t say that, Drew. Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Drew insisted, stepping closer to you. “I’ve been an idiot, Y/N. I let everything else get in the way, and I lost sight of what really mattered. But you—you’re what matters. You’ve always been the one who’s mattered the most to me.”

Tears filled your eyes once again, your heart warring with your mind. You had waited so long to hear those words, but now that they were finally being spoken, you didn’t know what to do with them.

“How can I believe you?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How can I believe that you won’t hurt me again? That you won’t forget me the next time something else comes along?”

Drew’s eyes filled with desperation as he reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands. “I won’t forget you. I swear, Y/N, I won’t. I’ve already hurt you once, and I will never make that mistake again. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you’re the most important person to me. Just... please, give me another chance.”

You closed your eyes, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let go of the hurt and let Drew back into your life. But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight.

“I need time,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I need time to heal, to figure out if I can really trust you again.”

Drew nodded, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “I understand. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as it takes, Y/N. Just please... don’t shut me out completely.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you saw the Drew you had always known—the Drew who had stood by your side through everything, who had been your rock when the world felt too heavy.

“I won’t shut you out,” you said softly, your heart aching with the weight of it all. “But this... it’s going to take time.”

Drew nodded again, his relief palpable as he let out a shaky breath. “I’ll be here. No matter how long it takes.”

With that, Drew slowly stepped back, giving you the space you needed. The air between you was still heavy with unresolved emotions, but for the first time in months, there was a glimmer of hope. A possibility that maybe, just maybe, things could be repaired.

As Drew turned to leave, he glanced back at you, his voice soft but filled with quiet determination. “I love you, Y/N. And I’m not going to give up on us.”

You watched him go, your heart conflicted but not as heavy as it had been before. There was still so much to work through, but for the first time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you and Drew had a chance to find your way back to each other.

The days after the confrontation felt different. Lighter, but still uncertain. The emotional heaviness lingered between you and Drew, but there was something else now—a shared understanding that things needed time, that rushing back into the past wasn’t an option.

Drew kept his word. He didn’t push you, didn’t try to force himself back into your life as if nothing had happened. Instead, he started with small gestures—things that reminded you of the Drew you had known before everything changed.

Each morning, you woke up to a text from Drew. Simple things, like: "I saw the sunrise today and thought of you. Miss those mornings." Or, "Found an old photo of us. Remember this day?" They were small messages, but they carried the weight of years of shared history and memories you had thought were forgotten.

One evening, about a week after the confrontation, Drew showed up at your door with coffee in hand. The sight of him standing there with your favorite caramel macchiato, looking uncertain but hopeful, stirred something inside you.

“I thought you could use this,” Drew said, offering a small smile. “And I... was hoping we could talk. Just for a little while.”

You hesitated, but then nodded, stepping aside to let him in. Drew walked into your living room, his movements tentative, like he wasn’t sure where he stood anymore.

As you sat together on the couch, sipping your coffee, the silence between you was less suffocating than before. There was still a lot to work through, but at least the distance wasn’t unbearable. Drew glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the framed photo of the two of you from years ago, taken on a family trip to the beach. The both of you were grinning wildly, arms around each other, as if nothing in the world could break your bond.

“I remember that day,” Drew said quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “We spent hours building a sandcastle. It collapsed after five minutes, but we didn’t care. We thought it was the best thing ever.”

You chuckled softly, the memory warming something inside you. “Yeah, we were so proud of it.”

Drew shifted in his seat, his expression turning more serious. “I miss those days, Y/N. I miss us. I know I messed up, and I know it’ll take time, but... I want to get back to that.”

You turned to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. For so long, you had felt like you had lost Drew—the Drew who had been your best friend, your confidant, the person who knew you better than anyone. But now, sitting here with him, you realized that maybe he hadn’t been lost forever. Maybe he was still there, waiting for you to let him back in.

“I miss it too,” you admitted, your voice soft but full of emotion. “But... I need time, Drew. This isn’t something that can be fixed overnight.”

“I know,” Drew said, nodding. “And I’m not going to rush you. I’ll take as much time as you need.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe things could be different this time. Maybe you could rebuild what had been broken.

The weeks that followed were a slow process of healing and reconnection. Drew made an effort—an effort you hadn’t seen from him in months. He started texting you every morning, checking in to see how your day was going. The texts weren’t long or overly sentimental, but they were consistent. They were proof that he was thinking about you, even in the midst of his busy schedule.

Some days, the texts were simple:

"How’s work going? Thought of you when I passed by the old park today."

Other days, they carried a heavier weight:

"I’m sorry again, Y/N. For everything. I just want you to know that I’m still here."

And as time passed, you found yourself replying more. The walls you had built up around your heart began to slowly crumble, brick by brick. Drew wasn’t just making promises—he was showing you that he meant them. He wasn’t rushing you or pushing for more than you were ready to give. He was patient, and that patience made all the difference.

One afternoon, Drew surprised you by inviting you to lunch at the café you both used to frequent when you were younger. It had been years since you’d been there together, but as you sat across from each other, sipping coffee and talking about nothing in particular, it felt like you were slowly returning to a version of yourselves that had been lost.

The conversations were lighter, more comfortable. Drew listened intently when you talked about work, your hobbies, the things that had filled your life in the time you had drifted apart. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t competing with Odessa or his career for his attention. Drew was fully present, and that made all the difference.

A few weeks later, Drew showed up at your door with something unexpected—a small gift bag in hand, looking both nervous and hopeful.

“I, uh, thought I’d bring this over,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know it’s not much, but I saw it and thought of you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious, and took the bag from him. Inside was a small journal, the cover embossed with the words “For Every Sunrise.” Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled it out, your fingers tracing the delicate lettering.

“I know how much you love watching the sunrise,” Drew explained, his voice soft. “I thought maybe... you could use this to write down your thoughts. Or even just to keep track of the sunrises you’ve seen.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Drew had always known how much sunrises meant to you—those quiet moments when the world was still, when everything felt possible. And now, here he was, reminding you of those moments in a way that felt so personal, so deeply connected to the history you shared.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s perfect.”

Drew smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I’m glad you like it.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were being seen. Not just as someone in Drew’s life, but as someone important. Someone who mattered.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Drew continued to rebuild your relationship—slowly, carefully. There were still moments of doubt, moments when the hurt resurfaced and threatened to pull you back into the past. But Drew was patient. He never rushed you, never pushed you to move faster than you were ready for. Instead, he met you where you were, showing up for you in the ways that mattered most.

One day, Drew suggested a walk through the old park you used to visit as kids. It had been years since you had walked those paths together, but as you strolled through the park, side by side, it felt like you were reclaiming a piece of the past that had been lost.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” Drew said as you walked, his voice quiet but steady. “About how much we’ve been through together.”

You glanced over at him, your heart tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. “Yeah, me too.”

Drew stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His eyes were filled with a kind of determination you hadn’t seen in a long time. “I don’t want to take you for granted anymore, Y/N. I’ve been thinking about everything, and I know I hurt you. I know it’s going to take time to earn back your trust, but I want to be the person you can count on again. The person you deserve.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you—it was different now. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. He meant every word.

“I want that too,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to know that this time... this time, it’s real.”

“It is,” Drew promised, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear, Y/N, it’s real.”

And in that moment, as the sun began to set behind the trees, casting a golden glow over the park, you knew that maybe—just maybe—you and Drew were finally on the right path. It wasn’t going to be easy, and there were still wounds that needed time to heal, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could trust him again. Trust that he wasn’t going to let you down.

Months passed, and the slow process of rebuilding trust continued. Drew didn’t let up on his efforts—he made time for you, prioritized you, and showed you in small, meaningful ways that he was committed to repairing the damage that had been done.

The two of you began to fall back into an easy rhythm. Movie nights, long conversations over coffee, quiet walks through the park—it was like rediscovering an old friendship, but with the added depth of everything you had been through. The love you had for each other was still there, but now, it was stronger, more resilient.

One evening, Drew invited you to his house for dinner. It was just the two of you, and as you sat together on the back porch, watching the sunset, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the future,” Drew said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

You turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Yeah? What about it?”

Drew’s eyes softened as he reached out and took your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. “About us. About what we want.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening at the intensity of his gaze. “And what do you want, Drew?”

“I want you,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want you in my life, in every way. I don’t want to lose you again, Y/N. I love you. I always have.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words washed over you. It had taken so long to get to this point, to rebuild what had been broken, but now, sitting here with Drew, you knew that it had all been worth it.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I don’t want to lose you either.”

Drew smiled, his eyes filled with relief and happiness. “Then let’s not waste any more time. Let’s be together.”

And as he leaned in to kiss you, the weight of all the past hurt and pain seemed to fade away, leaving only the promise of a future—together.

THE END!!

i was thinking about writing a drabbles for this, hehe maybe their future together, if you have any suggestion, ask box are always open!! and i hope you all enjoy this imagine 🖤

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

sweet treat 5

Shy!reader really wants to tell construction worker!rafe how she feels but what if he doesn’t feel the same?  

cw: the L-word, mostly fluff, reader being an overthinker and getting a little jealous, pda

wc: 2.3k 

hi! this is the last part of sweet treat (might write some extras but I make no promises) and just wanted to say how much I appreciate everyone who reads my stuff. the first part was my first proper piece of writing I posted on this account and I was overjoyed by the warm welcome and all the kind comments, asks & reblogs (nothing goes unnoticed by me!) so thank you so so much for being so lovely <33  

hope you enjoy xx 

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s been exactly two weeks since she came to terms with the fact that she’s in love with him. She hasn’t been able to sleep all that well and has tried her very best to avoid Rafe, albeit fruitlessly since he insists on driving her home from work every day and on top of that, he often invites himself over to her house or asks for her to stay the night at his; not accepting her excuses about being tired and having to wake up early.  

”Why don’t we just…be tired and wake up early together, then?” His grin is playful when he argues with her reasoning. And how is she meant to refuse that? 

And if all that wasn’t already suffocating her, of course he’s now helping with the renovation of the cafe since her boss wanted to expand the business; make the small coffee shop into a bigger one in hopes of more space for new tables and seats because the amount of clients they got was beginning to be too much for everyone to comfortably enjoy their stay.

Therefore, she now has to practically work in the same building as him every single day because the renovation work isn’t disturbing the current cafe from running nor decreasing the number of customers with a sweet tooth or a craving for their usual morning coffee from strutting in.  

This wouldn’t be a problem, if Rafe wasn’t walking around all sweaty and dusty, biceps bulging whenever he’d lift wooden planks over his shoulder or carry around different equipment; looking as attractive as ever.

And with these newfound lovey-dovey feelings trying to break through the surface, she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to stop herself from ogling him or keep her rapid heartbeats to herself whenever he wanders over to chat with her on his breaks.  

She tries to act as normal as she can, but she can tell that he’s picking up on her excessive rambling and stuttering, flushed cheeks and anxious fingers fixing her hair every two seconds whenever he’s talking to her.

She’s certain he can see right through her, knows that she’s hiding something. She can practically see how he wants to bring it up more often than not but seemingly hasn’t found the right way to approach the subject yet and she can sense that she’s running out of time; can’t tolerate lying to him for much longer.  

She’s been thinking this whole thing through over and over, to the point of her head hurting as she bakes Rafe’s favorite lemon raspberry cookies as a distraction and because he’s been working so hard and she wants to surprise him; see the soft smile that makes the whole world glitter whenever he graces her with it.

She wants to tell him, wants him to know how deeply she feels for him, how much she appreciates him but every time she tries to open her mouth, the words seem to evaporate before they’ve even begun to sprout on her nervous tongue.  

What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if this is all just a casual thing for him and she’s making it into something more than it is? These bleak thoughts turn her mood sour; a pout forming on her lips as she concentrates on topping the flamingo pink icing covering their most popular vanilla cupcakes with fresh blueberries.  

As she’s taking out Rafe’s cookies out the oven, she comes to the conclusion that she has two options; she either tells him she’s in love with him or she doesn’t. If she tells him, there’s a very high possibility of him looking at her with a crease between his brows and words about not wanting for this to be anything serious hitting her against the face.

And if she doesn’t tell him, then…well she doesn’t really have anything to lose, does she? Except maybe the what ifs haunting her for the rest of eternity.  

She tries to get rid of these tormenting thoughts with a shake of her head as she sets the cookies off to cool down and begins to place the finished cupcakes onto the display counter, trying her hardest to forget about it all.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Later that day when Rafe is contently munching on the cookies she plated for him and happily distracting her from work, someone approaches the counter; a girl with glossy lips and shiny hair.  

”Hi, could I get a mango matcha latte, please?” Her eyes are as green as grass as she places her order. 

”Of course, would you like it with ice or no ice?”  

”With ice, please,” she answers in a friendly manner.  

”Coming right up,” she gives the girl a polite smile when her payment goes through.  

”You’re working on the renovation?” The girl’s attention then turns towards Rafe, making Y/N’s gaze flicker over to them as she puts blended mango into the bottom of a tall glass. 

”Yeah, the cafe’s gon’ be twice as big as it’s now,” his gravelly voice drawls, putting the half-eaten baked good down.  

”That’s so cool, I’ve always wondered how construction workers are so strong. Do you go to the gym a lot?” A saccharine voice reaches Y/N’s ears, making her brows furrow as she’s measuring the right amount of matcha powder and trying to appear nonchalant.  

”Uh, yeah, yeah. Also think my workdays sometimes count as workouts,” he scratches the back of his head as she lets out a giggle. It wasn’t that funny, Y/N thinks with a roll of her eyes.  

”Hey, I was actually wondering if maybe you’d wanna hang out sometime? Could give you my number?”  

Something muddy swirls in her stomach at the girl’s straightforward question. She doesn’t appreciate the fact that she’s blatantly hitting on Rafe right in front of her. Even if she’s well aware that they’re not together and the girl probably assumed they were just friends, which they are.

However, she can’t prevent herself from turning grumpy from the mere notion of him being interested in someone else. After all, the girl is stunning and she wouldn’t really blame him if he wanted to at least consider her offer.    ”Nah, I’m actually not available right now,” he offers an apologetic smile when the girl’s shoulders slump.  

”No? That’s a shame. Well, let me know when that changes?” She gives him a flirty smile that makes Y/N quietly scoff as she pours the milk into the mix. 

”It’s not changing anytime soon,” she mutters under her breath, making both of them turn their heads towards her.  

”Sorry?” The girl asks, muted jade settling on her suddenly tense form. Fuck, did she really say that out loud? 

”Oh, um— just that…here’s your drink,” she peeps out, feeling Rafe’s eyes burning into the side of her face as she sticks a paper straw into the beverage; the ice cubes clinking together when she hands it out to her.  

”Right, thanks,” she says looking over to Rafe once more, seemingly expecting him to give her an answer of his own. 

”Uh…yeah, what she said. Not changing anytime soon,” his grin is wide, making the girl’s cheeks flush as she hurriedly leaves. 

And when it’s just the two of them again, she flits her eyes down, busying herself with a wooden container of tea bags she’s trying to organize, not wanting to face him. 

”What was, uh…what was that about?” His tone is teasing, an annoying smirk playing along his features. 

”Nothing,” she quickly dismisses, avoiding his gaze. 

”Nothing? You’re telling me you weren’t just really fucking jealous two seconds ago?” 

”N—no,” she can’t even convince herself with the pitiful denial. 

”Don’t worry, I’m all yours, alright?” He chuckles as he stuffs the rest of the cookie down his maw.

”How did you know I was craving these, by the way?” He asks around the mouthful as she tries to brush aside the sudden tingle in her ribcage and the blush dusting over her cheeks.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

A few days later when her shift is coming to an end, her other coworker already beginning to take orders and telling her she’s free to go, she drags Rafe behind the counter and practically forces him to taste test a new recipe she’s tried out; a walnut carrot cake with lime buttercream.

”Wow, this is…amazing. The lime gives this fresh sourness to the frosting, it’s so good,” his voice is muffled by his chewing and her heart warms in response to his detailed commentary, never one to shy away from showering her in compliments. 

”You think so? I actually added the lime just cause I know how much you like citrus fruits so, I’m really glad you like it,” she beams up at him. 

”Yeah? Made this just for me, huh? Can I ask why I’m getting this special treatment all of a sudden?” His tone is playful, tongue licking over his bottom lip to clean up the bit of icing lingering there.  

”Well, cause I love you and—“ she blurts out and then her entire body tenses; mouth hanging open in chock and wide eyes slowly moving to look at him, trying to verify whether he heard it or not. Of course he did. She wasn’t exactly quiet now, was she?  

“You…you love me?” His brows raise in surprise. 

“Uh…I— I didn’t mean to…I mean, you probably don’t feel the same so doesn’t really matter. Just— um...just forget I said that. I don’t know why I—”  

“What are you talking about? You think I spend most of my time with you cause I…what? Dislike you? You can be so silly sometimes, you know?” He scoffs, setting the golden fork down on the porcelain plate. 

She stays silent.

“What I’m saying is that I’m obsessed with you. I mean, you’re even in my fucking dreams, right? But listen, love has always been a little…tricky for me to grasp onto cause my relationship with my family has always been…complicated? But if me wanting to spend every second of my day with you means I love you too then, shit, maybe I do. But I need some time before I can really say that shit, you get that?” His words are honest and raw and she thinks her rattling heart is going to beat out of her chest.

“Oh. I— um…yeah, of course. Take all the time you need,” she finally manages out.

“Hey, c’mere,” he says before he’s practically dragging her dumbfounded form into his embrace; beefy arms pushing her flush against his chest with a steadying grip on her waist.  

“I mean, we’re basically already dating at this point, no? Wasn’t sure how to make it official without freaking you out but since you love me, I think you’re all good, yeah?”

She croons something incoherent in response.

“So, wanna be my little girlfriend or what?” He asks into her hair. 

“I— of course I do,” she mumbles against his shirt.  

“Yeah?”  

“Mhm,” She hums before he tucks an index finger under her chin and raises her face to look up at him; thumb toying with her bottom lip before he’s leaning down and smearing a sloppy kiss against her mouth.  

“Shit, you’re so cute. Just wanna swallow you whole sometimes,” he murmurs with a soft smile tugging at his lips and blue hydrangeas twinkling with something syrupy in them.  

“I love you,” she mumbles, almost inaudible; words still too tender to consciously say out loud.  

“Say it again,” he practically demands. 

“Um…I love you,” her voice is nearly a whisper. 

“What was that? Think you can say it a little louder?” He teases.  

“Rafe, stop…you’re embarrassing me,” she whines, cheeks coloring over with a strawberry hue.  

“No, I’m not. Just wanna hear you say it,” his smirk is all big and smug and it makes her huff.

“ILOVEYOU, okay?” The words mesh together like fluffy clouds in the sky and her volume is louder than he’s probably ever heard it, a couple of curious heads turn to look at them, the lively chatter around them quieting down some.  

“Yeah? You guys heard that? She loves me!” He’s nearly shouting, looking around with a stupid grin on his face, making her flush and hide behind her hands as a few customers cheerfully titter in entertainment. 

”Congrats, dude!” Someone even yells.  

“Oh my god, Rafe. Why would you do that?” Her mortified eyes widen as she crouches down; trying to find shelter from behind the pale yellow counter. ”I’m never leaving my house again,” she complains with a glare.  

He doesn’t seem to be all that bothered by the whole thing, simply chuckling with dimples denting his cheeks; the light-hearted sound making her stomach flutter despite the humiliation crawling up her spine and making her want to vanish into the cracks on the floorboards.  

“Of course you are. I’m your boyfriend now which means I’m taking you out on a date tomorrow, yeah?” He lifts her up with a grip on her waist, pulling her flush against him as his devious fingertips slip underneath the hem of her shirt, smoothing over her bare stomach and making her let out a squeak.

Then he’s grasping her jaw in one hand and pressing his mouth on hers once again; her protests withering away like a dead rose when he slips his tongue past her lips, dragging out an involuntary whimper from her.  

She pulls away, hiding her face in his chest when she can feel multiple pairs of eyes staring at them. 

”Rafe, can we just go already?” She pleads with her voice small before he’s guiding her out of the coffee shop with a big palm resting on her back, calming her down some.  

And despite the little scene he just caused, she thinks she might just be the happiest girl on the island as he helps her climb into his truck with a honeyed kiss warming the apple of her cheek.

[osterfieldshollandgirl]

slap

words: 1k

warnings: established relationship, hitting rafe, rafe having a panic attack, brief self harm from rafe (not really intentional), drunk riding? a dirt bike

“rafe.” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “stop that.”

“i-” rafe takes a gasping breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “i can't.”

“you're going to hurt yourself.” your eyes flicker down to his clenching fist, his nails digging into his palm, threatening to break skin. your voice is trembling with concern.

“i can't.” rafe says again, his mouth turning to a frown as he struggles to hold back tears, eyes glistening.

you don't know what to do. you've seen rafe overwhelmed before, but this is a new low, seemingly to lose control over his body. hes always kept it together before, especially for you when you’re around.

you reach out, not sure if it would help, and slap your hand directly across his cheek in a swift, firm hit.

you both fall silent and time seems to stand still as you stare into each other's eyes, both in shock at your action when rafes hands loosen and pull you into him.

“that helped.” he says, tucking his head into the space between your shoulder and neck, pressing a kiss to your skin.

“okay.” you reach around his waist and hold him tightly. “im sorry for hitting you.”

“it's okay.” rafe says, eyes closing, quickly tiring out. 

“let's go to bed, yeah?” it's the middle of the day, but you're ready to retreat into rafes bedroom, especially to get away from ward who didn't let your presence hold him back from shouting at rafe.

“yeah.” rafe grips your hand tightly, needing that connection to you as you head up the stairs.

--

“rafe.” you voice is harsh and controlled, but not a yell. not yet.

“baby-” rafes voice is whiny and slurred from all the shots of alcohol he'd taken with his boys earlier. “what do you want? im going-”

“you're not going anywhere without a helmet on. you already shouldn't be riding drunk.” you place your hands on your hips. 

“im fine.” rafe says, a smile stretching across his cheeks, hoping it will appease you, will make you let this go like you usually do.

“no.” you say harshly. “get off the bike and get a helmet.”

rafes expression hardens as he revs the engine, threatening to take off and join kelce and topper, but you don't care that they already sped away towards the country club without putting any protection on.

rafe opens his mouth to continue to argue, but you cut him off with a slap across his face.

rafe blinks, stunned.

“sorry.” rafe steps off the bike and takes your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your lips. “ill get a helmet.”

“thank you.” you're still not happy that he's even going, but you know you can't do much to control rafe and you’ve learned to pick your battles.

--

you're sitting on the couch playing on your phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media when you hear the roar of the bike engine returning to tanneyhill.

you frown and check the time, but your mental clock was correct, it's only been around an hour since rafe and his friends left, too early for him to be returning.

curious, you walk outside in time to watch rafe pull into the garage. 

“what are you doing back so early?” you ask as he takes his helmet off. 

“i missed you.” rafe sniffles then pouts, his voice shy and a little sheepish. “i don't like being away from you when im drunk… or ever.”

“aww, whose a softie?” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as you melt at his words.

“and i feel bad about being mean to you about me wearing a helmet. i know you were just looking out for me.” rafe ducks his head and presses his lips to your forehead.

“i forgive you.” you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. “sorry for slapping you.”

rafe shakes his head, dismissing your apology without the need of any further acknowledgement.

“love you so much.” rafe picks you up and carries you inside. you're not worried about him falling or dropping you, he wouldn't allow you to get hurt even in his drunk state.

--

“ahhh!” you scream out, hand reaching out and hitting the figure in the face that appeared from the darkness. you reach up again with your other hand to deliver another slap when a hand emerges from the shadow and grabs your wrist.

“baby, it's me.”

rafes voice cuts through the darkness as you freeze before your body deflates.

“oh shit.” knees buckling as rafe grabs you and pulls you against his chest. “i thought you were an intruder.”

“an intruder?” rafe laughs. “well, that was a good hit. i think you might leave a mark.”

“a mark?” you squeal, pulling away from his chest and looking at his cheek, that does in fact have a red mark in the distinct shape of your fingers.

rafe just laughs, his arms wrapping around you more securely. “dont worry about it.” he says, kissing the top of your head. “its kind of hot that you’re so tough.”

--

“god, shes hot.” rafes voice is loud, almost obnoxious, as he pipes up for the first time since entering the room and plopping down on the couch next to you.

“what the fuck?” you question, dropping your phone as your eyes narrow at him.

“nothing.” theres a smile on rafes face that tells you there's something more as you try to snatch his phone from his hand, but he holds it just out of your reach.

“give it!” you squeal as rafe laughs at your frustration, not fighting too hard before letting you see the screen, opened up to his photo album filled with pictures of you, candid shots, selfies you’ve sent him, and moments he’d captured of you without your knowledge.

“oh my god, you piece of shit!” you join in on rafes laughter, falling into his lap. 

you reach your hand up and playfully hit rafes cheek. “i hate you.” you say, though the affection in your voice betrays your words.

“no you don't.” rafe counters, pressing his lips against yours. “you love me.”

“yeah.” you admit, kissing him back. “i love you.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0