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[sour-ggrapess]

WHAT ARE YOU DOING BIG BRO? ⋆ ˚｡🐇💗 ⋆୨୧˚ Big step bro shows you how much you're his favorite little princess.

Step!brother!tae x fem!virgin!reader

✧˖° Warnings; Virgin reader, force fuck, unprotected sex, 7 year age gap, daddy kink, semi public sex, boob play, fingering, crying, impregnation, forbidden sex, slight ddlg, oral (f), service top tae, impregnation kink , just nasty asf😩

GO READ MY WATTPAD STORY @kook-net

⊹˚. ♡taglist - @chimmy-licious @shescharlie

THANKS FOR 207 FOLLOWERS!!

Taehyung met you on your seventh birthday when he was 12. He took liking into you very fast, the way you were so bubbly and cheerful made him love you. Tae never treated you like you were his little sister, he never called you anything mean, play fought with you or ignored you. He always wanted to be around you no matter what.

He did everything for you and with you making him like the dad you didn't know. He moved into your moms house with his father that didn't really care about you 'because you were too old to think of him as a father'. When you started hitting puberty he felt as if you were his and he needed to protect you, he bought all of your pads and told you about what was happening to you. He showed you how to shave and how to use a pad, he was one educated man and it was just for you.

Once you hit 18 the sexual tension started to build as you would catch him eyeballing your tits and ass as you walked around and how mad he had gotten when you told him about your first boyfriend.

Summer is near, its 90 degrees outside and you had things to do. Your pink sundress that was skin tight and your boobs spilled out of, your peach perfume lingered off your skin and your black shades fell on the bridge of your nose.

You still weren't sure why Tae had still lived with you and mom but he did at his grown age, you wanted to go to a fancy university but tae just gaslit you into going online and giving up on the collage experience but as long as he was happy right?

Small foot steps you didn't hear came up behind you as you dropped your sun glasses, bending down to pick them back up but before you could even grasp them a pair of cold hands run down your semi exposed ass. Chills run up your spine and wetness grows in your pink lacy panties.

"You look so pretty today princess" It was tae, his voice was raspy and you could hear the horniness in his voice as he spoke.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Let me make you feel good doll face, I know how bad you want it" arousal decorated his words. Taes plan wasn't to fuck you without consent but in the most respectful way he knew you were easy and knew you would say yes no matter how much you denied him.

"Cmon princess, I hear you at night and what you do with your little pink bunny."

His fingers moved down as they teased over the wet spot, shivers rolled over you. "Please d-don't" you whimpered as his fingers rubbed over your clit, "Let me be your better bunny. I can give you affection and I can make you feel even better than your other bunny. Please trust me" He pleaded with you and the offer sounded like a million bucks to you.

Soft whimpers left your mouth as he started to rub on your soft bud making the lace underneath you drenched. "I can feel how much you want me, your dripping through these cute little panties"

"Ive n-never done this before" you exhaled with a shaky breath. That's when he knew he won, he knew you gave in to him and now he could have you all to himself. His large hands grasped you and took you over to the couch.

"Im gonna make my little princess feel so good" He promised as he moved his face in between your thighs. He slid the ruined panties down your legs to see the strings of wetness that stuck to your clit and the underwear, "This pretty chubby cunt, so pure and wet for me." Tae groaned before he dug on your swollen clit, his hands held your chubby lips apart as his lips made contact with your clit. Your hands took grasp in the couch fabric as your back arched off the couch making your clit rub on his mouth even more.

"Dose my little princess like the way my tongue licks her cute virgin pussy? Tae groaned in between licks on your clit. "Mhmm, I love it" A high pitched moan escaped from your lips, Sudden shock washes over you as his middle finger slid into your tight pink hole. It sucked his finger in as if you were clenching your walls.

He never felt any pussy like it even the virgin ones hes been in. A burning feeling deep in your pussy every time he entered his finger in, "Take it out please i-it hurtsss!" You exclaimed as you tried to push him away.

"Its gonna feel better soon baby, I just gotta stretch you out if you want my cock, baby doll" His pace fastening as your moans got louder. "Shh, you don't want mommy to hear us do you?" His tongue dived into your hole and lapped up your juices like a man stranded on a desert for months, nails digging at light blond strands as your body contorted all ways anyone could think of. His tongue back to kitty licking on your clit as 2 fingers entered your hole, feeling of your high getting closer made strings of his name and moans escape your mouth. "I-Im gonna p-pee, stoughhh" you almost yelled as your cum flowed out on his fingers and slightly in his mouth. Mr. Bunny got you close and made you feel good but never good enough to make you cum.

Your cum on his fingers made him go wild, he tried his best to not lick it off. He brought his fingers to your mouth. "Lick it princess" he demanded, your tongue swirled around his digits tasting every little drop he gathered. He pulled his fingers out with a groan.

he inched forward with him now hovering over your boobs right before ripping your dress and popping one in his mouth with whimper. Shaky deep breaths leaving as you tried to control your moans, his tongue licked around the bud as his fingers played with the other.

"You taste so funking sweet, my little princess" He praised while taking his jeans off along with his boxers, his big cock sprung up with his pink tip leaking pre-cum all down his base down to his balls. You felt as of you were gonna throw up, you felt like a dirty whore and his cock was massive when you couldn't even take 2 fingers.

His hand takes grip of his cock and strokes it as more beads of pre-cum fall out his now sticky tip, "You gonna be a good girl and take this dick, hmm?" He cooed in a tone that was mocking the way you whined. "Y-yes, please go s-slow", he sat on the couch and placed you on his lap. "Ride this cock like you did mr. Bunny"

He was making you feel dirty and embarrassed and not to mention how nasty you felt about him but your pussy said otherwise as it dripped all over his thighs and the couch. Tae lifted his hips up as he took his cock in his hand, he slapped his length all over your clit making you jerk your body and try to move but his grip on your shoulders forced you down. "J-just put it i-in daddy" Was all you could say as tears rolled down your eyes at how frustrated he was getting you.

The nickname put him in a trance as forced you down onto his dick and started at a brutal pace not caring about the waterfalls of tears and the scream and squeals that bursted from your mouth. "T-take this cock like a g-good girl and stay still. " He groaned out, anyone with that had sex before would know your pussy was good the way he was moaning.

His balls slapping against your ass as he slammed you down on his cock with each thrust. The burn faded away as you started to feel the best feeling ever coming back, "G-gonna fill this little chubby cunt with my f'kin cum". You felt him hitting all the spots you needed to be hit and even the spots you didn't know you had.

"F-feels so g-good daddy...." was flying out your mouth left and right as you felt his cock punching your womb. You feel hot liquid spraying out making you snap out of your high when you realized you squirted all over him, Legs shaking and your walls clenching."Fucking shit" His last words before he slammed you down and shot his load right in your womb.

It had to be the hardest hes came in all his life. You felt full and bloated like a water balloon.

"My nasty little princess has the best pussy ever"

© KOOK-NET 2023 — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[kook-net]

[kooberist]

IM @SOUR-GGRAPESS lost that email so we on here now

everything is gone :(

[hadersversion]

but daddy i love him!

“no, i’m not coming to my senses. i know he’s crazy but he’s the one i want.”

pairing: rafe cameron x innocent kook!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut, minors dni!!! dry humping & fingering. corruption kink of sorts (rafe and an innocent reader has taken over me fully i apologize). parental violence/verbal abuse. fighting. rafe showing his true colors but quickly hiding it from the reader because rafe is a big softie for them. pet names (sweetheart, honey, darling, baby, pretty/good girl). aftercare. let me know if i miss any!

mood board!

rafe cameron was bad news.

anyone in the outer banks could tell you that.

he was a fighter, a shit-talker, a guy who you couldn’t trust.

but there was something so intriguing about him that you just couldn’t turn away.

from the day you moved to island almost 10 years ago, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. you would see him at parties, the country club, when you would hang out with his sister, around town on his motorbike with his buddies. but you had to push that crush deep down because no one in their right mind would go after that boy.

except you.

you stretched yourself on the court, waiting for your dad to come out with drinks before your tennis match. that’s when you saw him and his friends making their way to the locker room. they had just got done their round of golf, you could tell by their bags. you tried not to stare, but your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own.

“hey, y/n.” you heard him call, with a smirk painted across his face.

your face blushed and you waved to him. “hey rafe.” play it cool, play it cool.

you can see him look you up and down, staring at your legs. “nice skirt.”

you looked down at the new, white tennis skirt your dad had bought you for your report card. your fingers found a loose thread, beginning to toy with it to deal with the embarrassment you felt. “t-thanks.”

he nods before looking behind you. “mr. y/l/n.” he nods with a quick wave. you turn around to see your dad with two waters and a stern look on his face. “enjoy your game.” he says before going inside.

your dad stands over you as you sit, handing a water bottle over. “that cameron boy…” he lets out a deep sigh.

“what?” you question, getting up and brushing your legs off.

your dad pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “he’s not the kind of guy you want to be friends with, sweetie. he’s a bad seed.”

“but how do you know that?” you question, trying not to sound too suspicious.

your dad picks up his racket and makes his way over to his side of the net. “i know ward cameron. and i know how rafe is just like his dad, thinks he can get anything he wants. thinks there is no consequences to life. but there is. there always is.” your dad shakes his head. “i saw him beating up some kid here not that long ago. sure, he was a pogue but doesn’t give rafe the right to walk around like the king of the outer banks. but until someone stops him, humbles him, things’ll never change.”

you stand there, uncomfortable. all you wanted to do was defend rafe, though you weren’t close like that. but your dad is a one way street. it’s his way or no way. so all you can do is nod. “oh…okay.” you say simply, getting ready for the match.

“just promise me you won’t get mixed up with the likes of that boy, please?” your father looks sincere.

you bite your lip and look down at your clean, white shoes. “yes sir.”

“good, now watch me beat you in tennis.” he says with a laugh. i fake a smile, getting on with the game, but still have rafe in the back of my mind.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

you didn’t see rafe again until the night of a house party at topper’s house.

your friends and you walk in, buzzed from the pre-game. they immediately all go their separate ways, looking for drinks, boys, or both. this leaves you standing awkwardly by a table, talking to some people from school. they talk about prom, their grades, and teachers, making you mentally check out from the conversation. that’s when he catches your eye, he is talking to topper and kelce with a red solo cup in his hand. you watch his every move, how big and veiny his hands are, practically cover the entire cup. how he constantly pushes his hair back while he talks, almost seeming like a force of habit he has. he also licks his lips a lot, sending a very graphic image of rafe between your le-

he looks up, meeting your gaze. a blush forms on your face as you try to hide your embarrassment but taking a sip of alcohol from your cup. you give yourself some time, staring into the cup before looking up again. but when you look at him, he hasn’t stopped staring at you. the blush you fought so hard to keep away makes your face feel like it’s on fire.

you watch as he excuses himself and makes his way over to you. this has to be a dream? or some prank, right?

“hey there, y/n.” he snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. every person who you are talking to looks over to rafe then back at you. “didn’t know you were coming.”

you awkwardly shrug. “last minute choice by my friends.”

his eyes burn holes into your body as he looks you up and down. “well, i’m glad you’re here.” you nod at him, offering a shy smile. “looks like you need another drink, come inside and i’ll get you one.” he nods his head towards the kitchen door. the group you're with is watching this conversation like it’s a TV show. you make my way through them and stand next to him. he automatically puts his hand on your back and leads you inside. the feeling of his touch sends chills down your spine but it almost feels like his hand is meant to be there. like his touch is the missing piece in your life.

you get into the kitchen and he heads towards the fridge, grabbing juice and handing it over. “you strike me as a vodka and juice, girl.” he says with a smile, making my insides melt.

“and what makes you say that?” you ask, putting your hand on my hip, playing into his little game of flirting.

“well, you’re sweet and you seem to play it safe. you don’t really drink a lot but when you do, you’re never blacked out.” he admits with a laugh, giving his diagnosis. “juice is sweet and vodka is the safest way to get a little drunk, in my opinion.” he stares at your face, waiting for a response.

“you’re good, rafe cameron. a little too good.” you admit, grabbing the juice and filling up the cup. he stands over you, giving me the vodka next. “didn’t know i was that easy to read.”

“you’re not.” he admits, staring down at you while you drink. “i just think i have a special interest in you.”

you freeze in place, there’s no way he’s admitting this to you. right now. the boy you’ve been pining after since the first grade. you can tell you're shutting down but you need to play it cool. “oh really?” you look up at his blue eyes, getting lost in them instantaneously.

“really.” he steps closer, inches away from my face. you know you are not that drunk but your head feels like it’s spinning under his gaze. he leans in a little closer, your noses brushing, when the kitchen door slams and topper can be seen stumbling in. his obnoxious laugh fills the room, making rafe close his eyes and sigh. “what could you possibly want right now?”

topper laughs and comes up beside rafe, he’s clearly fucked up. “i’m just looking for some weed, man.” he hits his chest playfully. “don’t let me get in your way.”

rafe pushes him away, making topper laugh harder at us. he looks at you before speaking. “sorry for being a cockblock.”

rafe narrows his eyes at him. “just get the fuck outta here, top.”

topper staggers into the other room, still laughing.

“sorry about him. when he drinks, he becomes an asshole.” he says, running a hand across his face.

“is he drunk all the time?” i ask with a new found confidence in my voice.

rafe looks at me and laughs. “seems to be.”

you both stand in silence, not moving away from each other but unable to bring the moment back.

“i like you.” he admits.

you stare at him, unable to speak. “w-what?”

“i think you heard me, y/n.” he smiles cockily, looking into your eyes.

you look back at him. “you barely know me, rafe.”

“doesn’t mean i can’t like you.” he sips his cup and nudges your shoulder with his. “i think you could say the same about me.” he gets closer, whispering into your ear. “don’t think i don’t notice how you stare at me when i’m around.”

you feel the air leave your body and you bite your lip. you feel like your cornered and have nowhere to go. “i-i-uh…”

he brushes his finger against your lip, almost like he’s shushing you. but you can’t even fight the way your body reacts to his touch. “it’s okay, honey. i like it. i like it a lot.” he says in a whisper, almost making you forget you aren’t the only two people in the world. it feels like you can read his mind just by looking into his blue eyes. he wants you…screw that, rafe cameron needs you. and you need him. forget what your father says, or the town, or even your friends. this seems to be all you need.

how am i ever going to recover from this? you thought to yourself.

you hear your friend call your name from outside. rafe looks over as they yell from outside. “i’ll see you around, how’s that sound?” you look at him, unable to think when he looks at you like this. his hand brushes against your face before walking back out into the party.

you stand there, still as your friend comes in. “you alright? looks like you seen a ghost or something.” she asks you, laughing a bit.

“all good.” was all you can get out, staring straight ahead at the door rafe just left in.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

ever since the party, rafe found little ways to be around you.

whether it was joining you at the country club while you played tennis or hanging around you when he saw you at the beach reading. he even started knocking on the front door of your mansion to just talk on your porch, something you had to hide from your dad. with these interactions, you had no idea what everyone was warning you about with him. he was one of the sweetest guys you ever met. for weeks, you and rafe had begun a nice friendship.

but the almost kiss at topper's party was never spoken of again.

the two of you sat on your porch swing, the air was warm as summer was slowly approaching. your legs laid flatly across rafe’s lap, looking directly at him. you poured a glass of lemonade for you both, sparking rafe to hit you with a “you sure you don’t want some vodka in this?”

when you’re with rafe, the conversations seem to just flow like you are the oldest of friends. you could talk about anything and nothing at the same time. he went on for the past five minutes about how he used to love playing lacrosse but one injury affected his whole career for him.

“it sucked, ya know? i never felt like i belonged anywhere, or had a close bond with anyone like i did on that team. then one fucking torn acl later and it’s all gone for me. i had college scouts looking at me and everything. i could’ve escaped this place and lived the real college experience.” he looked out into the water that faced your house. he turned to you and smiled awkwardly. “jeez, i’m sorry i just don’t shut up.”

you chuckle at him, loving how he put some of his walls down around you. “it’s okay, i like hearing ya talk. it’s soothing.” you smile innocently at him.

he gazes into your eyes and nods, his expression softening. “really?” you nod and he just stares at you. “you’re one of a kind, ya know?” his fingers start to rub innocent circles on your leg.

“and why’s that?” you ask him.

“i-i don’t know, i feel like i can be myself around you.” he admits. “don’t ever quote me on that because i’ll deny that shit.” he points, gaining a laugh from you.

“don’t want anyone to know rafe cameron can be a softie?” you tease him.

“shut up, i’m not a softie.”

“i think you can be behind close doors.” you say.

he stops rubbing your leg and turns to you. “oh shut up.”

“well, you’re gonna have to make me then.” you say without thinking.

rafe looks at you with a fire in his eyes that you haven’t seen since the party. “what was that?” he cocks his eyebrow at you.

you just stare into his eyes, straightening your shoulders back. a confidence striking you like never before. “i think you heard me, rafe.”

without missing a beat, rafe connects your lips. all of that pent-up tension, gone within that very second. his hands found his way to your face, cupping it ever so lightly like you were a delicate flower he was so lucky to have found. his hands slowly slid down your body, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your skin. "jesus, this is all i've been thinking about." he said breaking away, looking into your eyes.

"then, don't stop." you say breathlessly, climbing on top of his lap, kissing him again.

you can tell this move took rafe by surprise as he let out a soft moan in the kiss. the innocence he once thought you possessed was now all gone. you slowly began grinding yourself against rafe's clothed cock, which was slightly hardening. "fuck, who knew you had it in you, honey." he said as he kissed down your jaw. you never felt so needier in your life chasing a high with rafe that you thought you could only dream about.

your face blushed as you looked down at rafe who was staring up at you like you were a painting held high in the louvre. the more you looked down, the more self-conscious you became. your pace which was rapidly increasing started to falter. "hey, hey, sweetheart. don't stop now. what's wrong? talk to me." he caressed your face so lovingly.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, still out of breathe. "i-i-i don't know. what if i'm doing this wrong? or it's weird for you? i'm just nervous, i never did this before."

"did what, sweetheart? dry humped?" he almost laughed, pushing hair out of your face.

you shrugged. "well yes and no..." your voice started to trail off.

"yes and no?" rafe stared at you with a puzzled expression, trying to crack the code. you watched as he deciphered your words and the gears started to turn. "y/n, have you ever been with someone like...sexually before?"

you wanted to cry, the embarrassment being too hard to handle. you just laid your head against rafe's chest and sighed. "please, don't think of me any differently. i just...i just haven't found the right person to do all this with, ya know? i used to be scared but with you...i don't know, i feel ready." rafe sat there in silence, his hands falling to your waist and gripping them. you break away from his chest and stare into his eyes, which have seemed to darken. "rafe?"

"you trust me?" he asks simply. you nod shyly, causing his breath to hitch. you can feel his pants grow tighter under you. "i want you to keep going, do you hear me? don't stop until you cum on my pants." it sounds like he is giving you orders. he brings his thumb across your lip and gives a menacing smirk. "you wanna be all mine, huh? you pretty girl. show me your mine."

with his reassurance, you pick up you begin to rub yourself against his pants. your hands grip his shoulders as he holds you down on him. "good girl, keep it going." the material of his jeans feel rough against your clothed cunt but it adds a sensation you have never felt before. "shit, look at how pretty you look on me. can't wait to bury my cock inside you. would you like that? my cock being so far inside you, you can feel it in your stomach?"

you let out a pathetic whine, your head falling back from the pleasure you have building up inside. "y-yes."

"good girl, but we gotta start with the basics, right?" his hands start to trail up your body, stopping at your closed breasts. he cups them with his hands and smiles when you cry his name. "i got you, baby. c'mon, you know you wanna cum."

you quickly grind against him, feeling desperate as you chase your high. with his words of praise and reassurance, you can feel yourself ready to release. with one quick movement, you feel the tension building up in your stomach release as you cum on rafe. tears prick your eyes as you repeat his name over and over again. "rafe, rafe, rafe."

he stares at you in awe as you finish on him. the sight of your teary eyes and his name falling from your lips in such a needy way pushed him over the edge. he found himself cumming in his pants like he was a high schooler all over again.

you both stayed there, out of breathe, not moving once. you felt like a whole new person even though barely anything has changed.

"you alright?" he asks, pushing hair away from your face.

you tiredly nod, not knowing how to form words. your hooded eyes just take in the view of rafe, his face read and sweaty with a cocky smirk painted across it.

he bites his lip and kisses you gently. "there's more where that came from, you know?" he says and your head reels. "i've been waiting for so long to have you to myself, sweetheart. i don't plan on letting go now."

you giggle into his chest and nod. "don't gotta worry about me leaving, trust me. i've never felt so good in my life." the sweet yet sensual moment you two shared came to a halt when you heard your dad's truck pulling up the gravel road to your house. "shit." you quickly climb off rafe, trying to compose yourself.

your father quickly exited the truck, slamming the door behind him. he seemed to race up to the two of you as you sat there. rafe's hand protectively went over yours as your father approached. "the hell is he doing here?" he fumes.

"d-dad, we're just hanging out." you lie to his face.

"yes sir, that's all we were doing." rafe says camly, looking at him in the eyes.

your father head snaps towards rafe. "was i talking to you, boy? no. stay outta it." his attention focuses back to you. "i told you to not mess with the likings of this boy and what do you do behind my back?" he screams at you. "you go around with this...this hooligan! i want him off my property now. acting like some easy girl, i raised you better."

"b-but, daddy." you pout, trying not to cry as rafe squeezes your hand.

"sir, you're being too hard on her. it's not her fault." rafe tries to calm him down.

your father's finger rests on rafe's chest as he gets close to his face. "oh i know that, rafe. it's you and your typical bullshit. my daughter wouldn't act this way if it wasn't for you. look at you, you're probably using her."

rafe's fists clenched as your father talks down to him, no one does this to him and gets away with it. "sir, i suggest you put that finger down."

"or what?" your father snickers in his face.

rafe's whole demeanor shifts, the sweet boy you were just talking to now gone. like he was never even there. it honestly scared you how fast rafe can change personalities. "you don't even want to know." he grits his teeth. you hate to admit the affect this took on your body, clenching your legs together.

your father drops his finger and turns to you. "inside, now." he says, grabbing your arm. before you can fight him off, he's dragging you away from rafe.

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out." he reassures as you are being brought into your house. "fuck!" he screams as soon as the door slams shut.

you watch as rafe makes his way to his truck, slamming the door shut and driving away. you turn to your father who just stares at you as you cry. "screw you!" you say before running upstairs and locking yourself in your room.

you finally had him and now you lost him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

the days past since you saw rafe.

your father grounded you and cut you off from the outside world.

you sat by your window and waited, having some false hope that rafe would be your knight in shining armor and take you away from this place. your father pulled up the driveway and seemed to struggle getting out of his truck.

you met him at the door, ready to deal with the bullshit he would throw you today. when you opened your door, your father seemed battered and bruised.

"holy sh-i mean...what happened?" you asked, holding the door open for your dad as he sat on the recliner.

"nothing." he shuttered. "nothing happened."

you stood there and crossed your arms. "clearly something happened."

he shook his head, seeming almost fearful. "nothing happened, now drop it." you stood there as he turned to you. "you aren't grounded anymore. your phone is on my dresser." he seemed almost defeated.

you stared at your dad trying to understand what the hell is going on. are you in the twilight zone? you knew you wouldn't get an answer out of him so you grabbed your things and raced out of the house before he could change his mind. the sun was setting but you didn't care, you had one thing and one thing only on your mind.

you got on your bike and raced towards tannyhill. when you finally got there, you threw your bike down and almost ran to the front door. with two knocks, wheezie opened the door.

"y/n?" she said with a smirk.

"hey, wheezie, is rafe home?" you say, snooping around the insides of the home.

she rolls her eyes and opens the door. "in his room."

you walk up the stairs and stop right before his door. your fist hovering over it before connecting it to the wood. after a few seconds, rafe stands there in the almost dark room.

"y/n." he says, almost as though he was expecting you to be here.

you quickly jump into his arms, holding onto him by his neck. you missed this. the way he smelled, the way he felt, everything about this boy drive you wild. "i missed you."

"i missed you too, honey. come on in." he lets you into his room. this was your first time being in here. sure, you've seen it through snapchat and pictures he sends but that's it. it's the typical boy room but it felt authentic. it felt like rafe.

you sit down on his bed as he walks around, picking up clothes off the floor. "didn't think i'd be having guests." he doesn't seem like his usual self, maybe you caught him at a bad time? but he invited you in, so you stayed.

you laugh at him. "no big deal, the old man let me off the hook tonight. it was weird, he came home all messed up. i tried asking but he kinda pushed me away. it was weird."

rafe stood there, silently. "oh really?"

"yeah, super strange. he's not usually the fighter type. never has been." you watch him stand there. "you all good?"

he nods and turns to you. "i am, now that you're here."

you smile at him as he approaches you. you open your legs so he can stand in between them, looking down at you. he traces your face with his finger, stopping at your lips. "all mine, sweetheart. all mine." he says before bending down to kiss you. the kiss feels rough, almost as though you are a fresh breathe of air that rafe has been waiting for. he pushes you down onto his bed and crawls on top of you.

you break the kiss and look into his eyes, his room is dark so you can only make out certain features. but you bring your hand to his face and hold his cheek, which makes him wince. "oh, i'm sorry, did i hurt you?"

"n-no, it's all good." he tries to kiss you again but you stop him.

"rafe?" you ask him, making him stop once again. "what's wrong? tell me."

"goddamn! nothing is wrong, okay? i can't miss you." he says, running a hand through his hair. you try to study his face but can't even see him. you reach over for his bedside lamp. "no, no, leave it of-" before he can stop you, the light is on. his beautiful face has a large bruise under his right eye and cheek. his lip busted and knuckles bruised.

"rafe?" you question, sitting up.

"y/n, i can explain." he pleads.

then it all makes sense. your father coming home all battered and bruised, rafe's current state, you being let off the hook too easily.

"you don't even want to know."

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out."

his words from that night ring through your head. the way his whole demeanor changed that night into a person you've never seen before.

"d-did you?" you ask with teary eyes.

"baby, look at me. i can explain." he begs you but you start to get up.

"explain what? how you beat up my fucking dad!?" you yelled, trying to grasp the millions of thoughts you had. "h-how could you?" you stand by his door, pacing, with your head in your hands.

he walks up to you, grabbing your hand. "look at me, honey, please. look at me." he begs you, trying to grab your attention.

when you finally turn to him, you see the cuts and bruises again. "rafe, why?" you say with a tear slipping down.

"because i love you, honey. you're my girl and i don't give a fuck who it is, they cannot talk to you the way your own father did. calling you easy, acting like your dumb for being around me. nobody should ever talk to you like that, ever." you stop and he cups your face in his hands. "i just wanted to talk to him, okay? all i wanted to do was talk. but then he started again with how i'm a bad person and how you were being stupid for even acknowledging me. he said he didn't need a guy like me corrupting his daughter and i snapped."

you gazed into his eyes, they looked as though they were pleading with you to see why he did what he did.

"please, say something. please." he states.

you sigh and close your eyes. "rafe, i don't need you going around defending my honor, especially to my dad. it's not worth it."

"not worth it? sweetheart, look at me." you open your eyes. "you are worth everything to me, you hear me? everything. i would kill for you if you asked me to. i never had someone care for me the way you do, have someone listen to me, or even treat me normally. you mean the world to me, y/n. i love you."

and there it was.

rafe cameron, for once in his life, showed affection.

he told someone they love them.

"i'm sorry it was your dad, okay? sometimes, i black out and can't remember things when i'm angry. i act on my impulses. but with you, i never feel that way." he shakes his head, trying to contain all his emotions. your eyes water again, causing him to wipe the tears. "what's wrong, baby? talk to me."

you smile through the tears. "i just, i love you too." no one has ever made you feel so safe and loved in one moment than rafe has this past month. he's all you could ever ask for.

he beams down at you, shaking his head. "you mean that?"

"with every ounce of my body, i love you." you admit.

his heart swelled as he connected your lips once more to his. you were all his, all he ever needed in life to feel whole.

rafe pushes you against the door, a light moan slipping from your lips as he presses himself against you.

"you like that?" he asks, a satisfied smirk on his face as he kisses your cheek and goes down your neck.

you nod under his touch, like you're cast in his spell. "y-yes."

"you want more?" he asks, sucking on one spot of your neck for a long time. all you can do is nod, already becoming a mess because of him. he pulls away, having you almost whimper from the lack of contact. "not uh, baby, gotta hear some words out of that beautiful mouth of yours. i'll repeat myself, do you want more."

"y-yes, rafe, yes please."

he groans at your begging and nods. "good girl." he pulls you over to the bed and guides you toward it. you feel the bed hit the back of your knees and you sit down, looking up at him. he quickly takes his shirt off and tosses it to the side.

he kisses your lips lightly as his hands find the end of your shirt, lightly toying with the fabric. "y-you can take it off." with the reassurance, he slips the top off and leaves it next to you. his eyes take in your body, your breasts pooling out of a flimsy green bralette. he sucks his tongue and gently runs his fingers over your tits.

"so pretty and they're all for me." he slowly reaches behind your back and unclasps the bralette with one hand, letting it fall down your body. you could swear rafe has tiny hearts in his eyes as they bore onto your half-naked body. "lay down." you follow his orders and lay against his pillows. his bedroom light shines over his features and the cuts from the fight. you bring your hand up to touch them and he gives into your touch. "you okay?"

"more than okay." you tell him.

he kisses your hand then his lips meet with yours once again. he then lets his lips trail across your cheek, jaw, neck, and down to your chest. he stares at your tits before peppering them both with kisses. he then takes one nipple in his mouth, slowly, and grabs your other one with your free hand to give a squeeze. your body instantaneously reacts to rafe's touch, moaning at the sensation of his lips. "you like that, huh?" he almost teases, switching to the other nipple.

"m-more." you whisper out, clenching your eyes.

"what was that, honey? need you to speak up for me." he grins.

"please, i want more, rafe. touch me more." you raise your voice.

"you got it." his hand leaves your tit and trails slowly down your body, resting at the hem of your jeans. he unbuttons them and lets his hands slide down your underwear, his hands automatically getting soaked. "shit, baby, all this for me?" he runs ins finger down your cunt and gathering your slick, bringing it to his mouth. he sucks it off his fingers as you watch in awe. "you're just too sweet for me, you know that?"

he doesn't even give you time to think before he puts his fingers back inside you, swirling your cunt. your hands grab his shoulders, holding onto them for dear life. "it's okay, i got ya, i always got ya." he reassures as he slowly slips one finger into your tight hole. "jesus, honey, with a hole this tight i don't know how long i'll last." he says as he slips his finger in and out of you, his thumb still toying with your clit.

your head falls back as more moans fall from your lips. "more, rafe, please give me more."

he laughs slightly. "cocky little thing, aren't ya? if you insist." he adds one more finger, your hole clenching around him as his finger slip in and out. "look how pretty you look with my fingers inside of you." he says before kissing your mouth, collecting your moans. you're so wet you hear the noises your pussy is making around him. you feel overstimulated as rafe keeps going, not stopping once. tears prick your eyes as you feel your high approaching. his thumb rubs harder as your nails connect to rafe's chest, dragging them down. "my pretty baby, i just love you so much." he says, staring at you.

with those words, you feel yourself being pushed to pleasure. you cum all over rafe's fingers, crying out his name. "rafe!"

he lets you ride out your high before taking his fingers out and putting them in his mouth like he did before. "never gonna get tired of that."

he gets up and heads to the bathroom. you want to talk to him, ask him where he's going, but you're too tired. you've never felt this good, not even from your own fingers. rafe comes back with a towel in his hand, gently, he pulls off your shorts and panties, cleaning off your pussy. the water is nice and warm as he gets you situated. he drops the rag and crawls into his bed next to you, holding you tightly.

"you know, if you want me to go dow-" but before you can finish that sentence he kisses your forehead.

"no need to rush there, honey. i wanna take my time with you, wanna show you how good i can make you feel." your heart melts in your chest as he rubs your back lightly. "get some rest, alright?"

you fall asleep fast in his arms, he holds you there the entire night and doesn't plan on letting go.

[itneverendshere]

Just saw the new popular movie ’’This ends with us’’ and I beg of you to draw from the actual beautiful love story, so pure! So same concept of the love story: Pouge!Rafe has been kicked out by his mom and her abusive boyfriend, Kook!Reader sees him homeless & hiding. Reader does small acts of kindness, which builds up to a romance but they separate for whatever reason (could be because they get discovered, he joins the military, like the movie, or something different). It could also be reversed with Pouge!Reader instead being homeless, you pick! Years go by, Reader meets an abusive partner, she bumps into a now grown up Rafe. Lots of angst, lingering feelings and longing, he sees the signs of abusive and gets protective. But without the movie plots of reader getting pregnant and married) I adore and worship your writing skills, truly have a gift to make you feel all the emotions!! <3333333

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (one)

i loooove this request because pogue!rafe so i decided to turn into a mini series (two or three parts). im personally not a fan of it ends with us, but i love your requests bc it's still very different from the original plot.

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: domestic violence; absent parents; angst; fluff.

Rafe was born rough around the edges.

There was never any sugar-coating about it; with his hair always messy, sun-bleached and salty, and his hands perpetually stained with the grime of whatever job he'd taken up that week, Rafe Cameron had never known peace.

He was stray dog that had learned to fend for itself, his eyes always scanning for trouble. Most people kept their distance, and he liked it that way.

There wasn’t much softness in his life.

His mom tried her best, he supposed, but that wasn’t saying much.

She had a new boyfriend every few months, and they were all the same — mean, drunk, looking for a fight. Rafe learned early on that if you couldn’t fight back, you were nothing. 

So he fought. A lot.

He fought the men who walked into their house at night, stinking of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. He fought the kids at school who called him trash, who mocked the way his clothes never fit or how he always seemed a little too hungry. But mostly, he fought himself — every time he looked in the mirror and saw his father’s eyes staring back at him. The man who left and never looked back. 

Another piece of shit. 

He kept his head down, his hands busy, and his mouth shut unless he had something to say. He wasn’t nice.

Nice got you nowhere; nice got you used, broken, and left behind. He had seen it too many times to believe otherwise.

The world wasn’t a kind place, and he wasn’t a kind guy. 

Most days, he’d finish work covered in sweat and salt, with just enough money in his pocket to get by. He'd dropped out of school years ago and head to the docks, sit on the edge, and smoke a cigarette while the sun dipped below the horizon.

The only real moment of peace he had.

Rafe took what work he could find — fixing up old fishing boats for the few Kooks who’d dare come down his side of the Cut, pulling shrimp nets in the dead hours of the morning, his back aching and his muscles screaming at such a young age, but at least it was better than being home.

If he could call it that.

Home, where his mom was probably passed out again, where the latest loser she'd dragged in might be passed out on the couch or looking for a fight.

He could hear them shouting before he even got to the door.

His mom screaming her throat out, something crashing inside — a glass, maybe, or a plate. Then came the matching scream of the new boyfriend, Tony or Tommy or something — they all blurred together after a while.

Rafe paused on the porch, hand hovering over the door handle, debating whether it was worth going in at all.

Inside, she was standing in the middle of the living room, her face flushed, her blonde hair a mess. Tony stood over her, fists clenched, his face red and veins bulging in his neck. 

Rafe knew that look. He’d seen it before — seen it in a dozen men who thought they could push their weight around, thought they could break whatever they wanted.

“What the hell’s going on?” 

Tony turned, eyes narrowing. “None of your damn business, boy.”

Rafe took a step forward, his fists balling up instinctively.

“If it’s in my house, it’s my business.”

His mom spun around to face him, her eyes wild and desperate. “Just stay out of it, Rafe. You always have to make things worse!”

He should be used to it by now.

"I'm not the one who brought this piece of shit in here.”

That was all it took.

Tony lunged at him, shoving him hard against the wall, Rafe felt the air rush out of his lungs as pain flared in his back.

“You watch your mouth, punk,” Tony hissed, his breath a disgusting mix of beer and god knows what.

“Or what?” Rafe shot back. Tony’s eyes flicked to his mom, making a point. She stood there, watching.

Rafe had lost faith in her a long time ago but it still blew him away how she never lifted a finger to help him. 

“Get out,” she said finally, hand moving to point towards the bust-up wooden door.

“What?” Rafe blinked, caught off guard.

He must’ve heard her wrong.

“You heard me. Get out!” She was shouting now, her voice high-pitched. “I can’t have you here, always stirring things up! You make everything worse!”

It had to be a fucking joke. He was the only one bringing in money to pay the rent, the only one who kept the house clean enough so it wouldn’t look or smell like someone died in there. Paid the hospital bills when they hit her too hard. He did everything, always. 

Tony shoved him again, harder this time, toward the open door.

“You heard her. Get the hell out.”

Rafe stumbled backward, catching himself before he fell. He looked at his mom, his chest tightening in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. “You’re really gonna choose him over your own son?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Just go, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.”

He forced himself to nod. He almost wanted to laugh.

“Fine,” he muttered, pushing past Tony and heading for the door. “Don’t call me when he sends you to the hospital again.”

He didn’t look back. The moment he stepped outside, the wind hit his face like a slap, making his eyes sting. Things had never gotten bad enough to this point before.

He would’ve rather taken a beating instead of turning homeless.

Rafe walked, hands stuffed into his pockets. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he couldn’t go back.

He’d die before he begged his mother or Tony to let him in that shithole again.

His feet took him along the edge of town, past the marina and the fishing docks, and eventually, he found himself in the wealthy part of town, near Figure 8.

It was ironic, almost funny.

The Kooks lived here, the ones who wouldn’t give him the time of day if they saw him on their streets. And here he was, a beat-up pogue, walking right through their territory, angry and suddenly so damn tired.

He spotted an old, abandoned house, sitting at the end of a street where the mansions stood tall and proud. He had walked by it a few times before and noticed it had been empty for years, the paint peeling off in strips, the windows boarded up, and the grass overgrown. He crossed the street, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, and pushed the broken gate open. The hinges squeaked loudly, proving just how long it had been since someone had been there.

The front door was unlocked; it opened with the slightest push. Inside, it smelled of dust and mold, but it was dry, and it was quiet. It was enough. He made his way to a small room in the back, what must have once been a kitchen. There was an old sofa left behind, covered in a dirty sheet. He pulled the sheet off, threw it in a corner, and sank onto the sofá, finally breathing properly. 

He stayed there, staring at the cracked ceiling and the empty walls, wondering how the fuck he was going to get himself out of this one. 

For the two next days, he moved carefully, quietly, in and out of the house. He didn’t want anyone to know he was staying there. He wasn’t getting his ass thrown into jail again. He found a way in through the back window, kept to the dimly lighted areas, and avoided the main roads. He didn't have much — a few changes of clothes, some cash from odd jobs, and his dad’s old pocketknife, the only thing he had left of the bastard.

It was on the third day that he saw you.

He was sitting on the front steps, having a cigarette, when he heard the sound of a bike chain clicking. He glanced up, and there you were — riding a yellow bike, hair pulled back, and eyes glued to him as you pedaled down the street.

He stiffened, quickly stubbing out the cigarette, his heart rate picking up. You were one of them, a Kook, from one of the mansions just a block away. He’d seen you before, always biking around town, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone.

He didn’t know you, didn’t even know your name, but he knew the type.

You saw him, too, and slowed your bike. His first thought was to get up and disappear back into the house, but he knew that would look suspicious. So he stayed put, trying to look casual, as if he belonged there.

You stopped a few feet away, still on your stupid bike, one foot on the ground to steady yourself.

“You live here?” You asked, not in a mean way, just curious.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he lied, “Why?”

You shrugged, “Just… didn’t think anyone did. Looks pretty empty.”

He tensed, waiting for you to say something like, “I’m going to tell someone,” or worse, to start asking more questions. But instead, you just gave him another curious look, nodded, and biked away.

Weird girl.

The next day, you were back. This time, you had a bag with you. He watched you approach, wary. You stopped in front of the house and took something out of the bag — a sandwich, wrapped in paper, and a bottle of water.

You held them out to him, a gentle smile on your face, “Figured you might be hungry.”

He thought maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better, some Kook guilt thing, like feeding the stray cat in the alley so you could pat yourself on the back for being such a nice person.

And he hated that. Hated you for even thinking he needed your stupid charity. So he gave you every reason to leave him alone.

When you handed him that sandwich, he barely even looked at you.

He just grabbed it and then turned his back, heading into the house without another word. But the next day, you were there again. And the next.

He started making it obvious he didn’t want you around. He’d grunt when you said hello, roll his eyes when you tried to make small talk.

One time, you offered him an apple, and he snatched it out of your hand without a word, just to see if you’d get annoyed enough to leave. You didn’t. Like some fucking saint.

Instead, you kept coming back, like some sort of annoying, persistent fly he couldn’t swat away. Every time, your smile was a little nicer, your eyes a little more curious.

He didn't get it. Why the hell were you still trying? Didn’t you get it? He didn’t want you here. Didn’t want to talk to you. Didn’t need shit from a Kook.

“What’s your problem?” he muttered one day when you showed up with a bag of groceries.

You blinked, “What do you mean?”

“You keep coming back here like I asked you to. I didn’t. I don’t need your charity.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, still not leaving. “I’m not doing charity. I jut figured you could use a little help.”

He scoffed, turning his back on you again. “I don’t need anything from you, princess.”

You hesitated, then placed the bag on the steps anyway. “Well, it’s here if you do.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes again. “Great. Another pity gift from the rich kid. Thank you so much,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You clenched your jaw, but still didn’t leave. He expected you to finally get the hint, but you just shook your head and walked away.

The next day, you there you were. And the day after that. Always bringing something, always with that same annoying, stubborn smile.

By the end of the week, he was done. You rolled up with another bag, and before you could even open your mouth, he let out a loud groan, throwing his head back. 

"For fuck’s sake, don’t you have anything better to do than bother me every damn day?”

That was it — you snapped.

Your eyes flared, and you stepped in closer, voice getting louder. "Will you just eat the damn food before I throw it in your face?" You shouted, cheeks going red with frustration.

He blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t expect you to clap back.

You’d been silent and too sweet for his liking. Most Kooks would’ve run back to their fancy houses by now, but you were still standing your ground, fists clenched, breathing heavy. Cute.

He almost laughed. Almost. “What’s your deal? You think you’re some kind of hero bringing food to the poor pogue? You think you're gon' save me or something?”

You glared at him “I’m not trying to save you, jerk! I’m just trying to be a decent human! Maybe you should try it sometime!”

He stared at you, face set in a deadpan, but he felt something— something he hadn’t felt in a while. Respect, maybe? But for some reason, he didn’t tell you to get lost.

Instead, he snatched the bag out of your dainty small hand. “Fine. I’ll eat your stupid food. But don’t think this changes anything,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Oh, trust me, I don’t.”

You both stood there in this weird silence for a minute, glaring at each other. Then you shook your head, and smiled like you hadn’t read him to filth ten seconds ago. “See you tomorrow, Rafe.”

What? You knew his name?

He watched as you rode away and he realized he was grinning, just a bit. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel completely alone.

And somehow, that pissed him off even more.

Days turned into weeks, and you kept showing up, like a plague.

No matter how much Rafe grumbled, no matter how many times he rolled his eyes or muttered under his breath, you just kept coming back. It was always something small — fruit, a bottle of water, a warm meal in a container. Every time you showed up, you had that same stubborn look in your eyes, like you weren’t going to back down no matter how much he pushed you away.

He hated to admit it, but he started to look forward to your little visits. He hated even more that he noticed things about you. Like how your hair fell in your face when you leaned over to hand him something or how your laugh sounded when he said something sarcastic. He noticed the way you seemed to care, even when he made it clear he didn’t want you to.

One day, you showed up with a duffel bag. Rafe looked at you suspiciously as you parked your bike and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“What now?” he grunted, eyeing the bag like it might bite him.

He could tell you were nervous and that weirded him out even more. Since when could he read your mind? 

“I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come to my house. Just to shower and get some real rest. My parents are out of town, and y’know, you could use it.”

He stared at you like you’d grown another head. “You want me to come to your house?”

You nodded, looking a little unsure now, hands tightening around the bag’s strap, “Yeah. Just for a bit. I thought you might like a break from this place.”

He scoffed. “And why the hell would I want to do that? You think I’m gonna be some charity case you can parade around to make yourself feel good?”

You sighed, clearly getting frustrated. “No, Rafe. I just thought… I just thought you might want a hot shower. But if you don’t, that’s fine.”

He usually cleaned himself up near the docks, but the water was freezing during this time of the year. Every time it felt like his balls were going to drop to the floor. So yeah, a hot shower in a big mansion sounded tempting.

Even if he didn’t want to give you that satisfaction.

A hot shower… a real bed, even for a little while. He hadn’t had that in what felt like forever. He looked at you again, trying to figure out if this was some kind of sick twisted plan, but all he saw were those stupid glowing eyes staring him down like he’d be dumb to refuse you. 

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up. “But just for a shower. And if you try anything weird, ’m outta there.”

Your nose scrunched up, “As if.”

Your house was everything he expected from a Kook — big, clean, and way too fancy. He felt out of place the moment he stepped through the gigantic door, like he was tracking mud on a white carpet. You led him upstairs, pointing out the bathroom.

“You can use this one. Towels are in the cabinet, and I’ll leave some clothes outside if you want them.”

Rafe grunted in response, still unsure why he was even there. He went into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning against it for a moment. The place smelled like lavender or some other fancy soap he couldn’t name. He turned on the shower, and the hot water poured out instantly, filling the room with steam.

He stripped off his dirty clothes and stepped under the water, hissing as the heat hit his skin. But then he relaxed, letting the water wash away the grime, the salt, the exhaustion he’d been carrying for so long. He stayed under the spray longer than he should have, almost losing track of time.

When he finally got out, he saw the clothes you’d left outside the door — a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, nothing flashy, but clean. He put them on and headed back downstairs, finding you in the kitchen, making coffee.

You looked up when he entered, “Feel better?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

You handed him a cup of coffee, and he took it reluctantly, still waiting for the catch. But you just sat across from him at the kitchen island, sipping your own cup, not saying anything.

He found himself watching you, noticing the little things again.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the way your fingers tapped against the mug when you were thinking. He hated that he was noticing, hated that he found any of it interesting. He took a sip of the coffee and scowled when it tasted good, because of course it did.

“You do this shit for everyone?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured around. “Invite random guys to your house, make them coffee, act like you care.”

You laughed, a light sound that made his chest feel weird. “No. Just you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just looked away, taking another sip of coffee. He didn’t do nice. He wasn’t used to nice. This was weird.

You kept doing these little things for him — small acts of kindness he didn’t ask for and definitely didn’t deserve. You’d leave extra food by the house when you knew he’d be there, sometimes even a blanket or a pillow you said you didn’t need. You’d offer to let him use the house again, and every once in a while, he’d accept, hating how much he craved the simple comfort of a shower or a bed.

And all the while, he stayed the same — gruff, sarcastic, always trying to push you away with his attitude. But you didn’t go. You took his crap and came back.

One night, after a particularly rough day where everything seemed to go wrong, he found himself standing outside your house again. Your parents were out of town again, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He hated that he was here, hated that he needed this, but he knocked anyway.

You opened the door, your face lit up with that familiar smile. “Rafe,” you said, voice warm. “Come in.”

He liked the way his name sounded on your lips.

He hesitated, but he did. You led him to the living room, and he noticed a few things this time — the family photos on the walls, a vase of flowers on the table, the soft throw blanket on the couch.

Your home was nothing like his, but it felt… safe.

They sat in silence for a while, and he noticed how you didn’t bother him with questions, didn’t try to fix anything. You just sat there, close but not too close, letting him breathe. He found himself looking at you more, catching the way your lips curled up at the corners, how your eyes seemed to soften whenever they landed on him. He felt something strange, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He sat on that big couch, staring at his busted-up hands, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. You were just a few feet away, eyes flicking over to him now and then, like you were waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t know what to say.

He felt… uncomfortable. Not because of the place, or you. No, never because of you. But because of this strange feeling that kept crawling up his spine, making him feel restless.

You were sitting on the arm of the chair, legs tucked under you, looking at him with that familiar, gentle expression that made him feel like maybe he wasn’t such a screw-up. He didn’t know what to do with that. You were the kind of girl who should have nothing to do with him. Yet here you were, again and again, showing up, like you didn’t know any better.

He cleared his throat, trying to push back whatever weird tension was building between you. “So… your parents,” he muttered. “They’re out of town a lot?”

You nodded, sighing, “Yeah. They travel for work. I’m used to it.”

“Must be nice,” he said, but his voice came out rougher than what he was going for. He didn’t know how to do gentle and he was still half-convinced you were going to kick him out or tell him you had enough of his crap.

“Sometimes,” you replied, “But it gets lonely, too.”

He wasn’t expecting that. He glanced at you trying to read you. He knew you weren’t looking for sympathy; you were just stating a fact.

He wasn’t sure what made him ask, but he did anyway. “Why do you keep helping me?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I— I don’t know. I guess… I just see something in you. Something good.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s nothin' good in me.”

“There is,” you insisted. “I see it. Even if you don’t.”

He felt his chest tighten, and he had to look away. “You’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” you said quietly, “but I don’t think so.”

He feel your eyes on him, could feel the way his pulse was racing under his skin. He hated it. Hated that he wanted to believe you, wanted to feel whatever it was you seemed to see in him.

“You’re too good,” he muttered. “Too good for someone like me.”

You laughed softly. “You don’t know me as well as you think, Rafe.”

He glanced up, surprised by the boldness in you. You were closer now, leaning forward, eyes fixed on his. He felt that breathtaking tension again.

Before he could think better of it, he spoke, voice coming out meeker than what he was going for.

“You really think there’s somethin' good in me?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of him for a second, “Yeah, I do.”

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t know what he was doing, what possessed him, but before he could stop himself, he reached out, his hand finding yours.

You didn’t flinch in fear or scrunched up your nose in disgust.

Instead, your fingers tightened around his, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Why?” he asked again, desperate.

 “I just do.”

Something snapped in him then, hope, probably. He moved closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your delicate skin.

You didn’t pull away again.

He hesitated, just for a moment.

“I’m not— I-I’m not a good guy,” he murmured.

You smiled again, softer this time, the way he hoped you only did for him, “I don’t need you to be.”

He didn’t get it, but he didn’t have time to figure it out.

He leaned in and kissed you. It was clumsy at first — just a touch of lips, a bit hesitant. But then you kissed him back and suddenly he understood those stupid cliché novels his mom used to read when he was younger. He’d never kissed anyone before. 

He was too aware of how inexperienced they both were, of the way his lips barely brushed against yours. He felt stiff and unsure, like he didn’t know if he was doing it right. But it felt right. It wasn’t smooth or perfect — there was hesitancy and uncertainty, but it was real. He felt your hand touch his cheek, your fingers warm and trembling just a little.

His hand slid from your cheek down to your neck, pulling you closer, fingers curling into your hair. He couldn’t get enough. It was messy, frantic, his heart racing like it was trying to break out of his chest, and for once, he didn’t care. He felt your breath hitch against his lips, the warmth of you pressing into him, and all the walls he’d built up, all the reasons he’d given himself to push you away, disappeared. 

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his old shirt like you didn’t want to let go, and that did something to him. Made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. Every time he kissed you, it was like he was drowning in you, like nothing else mattered except for this — your lips, your skin, the way your body pressed against his.

He pulled away, just for a second, eyes wide and breathing heavy, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He looked at you, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and wet from the kiss, and damn, you looked beautiful. More beautiful than he ever let himself admit before.

But then you smiled, that same heart-shattering smile, and it was like you were pulling him back in, “You don’t have to be afraid,” you whispered.

“I’m not…” he started, but even he didn’t believe it. Because he was. He was terrified as hell of this, of you, of the way you made him feel like he wasn’t a complete mess. But before he could say more, you kissed him again, and this time, he didn’t hold back.

He didn’t think about what he should or shouldn’t be doing, didn’t overanalyze the way his hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t any space left between you. You melted into him, your body warm and soft, like you belonged there and he felt like he was burning up from the inside out.

His hands roamed, exploring, memorizing the curve of your waist, the way your body fit so perfectly against his. Every little sound you made, every breathless gasp, made him feel like he was on fire.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, and he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

“This is crazy,” he muttered, his voice all shaky.

You giggled, the sound making his chest tighten in the best way.

“Maybe. But I don’t care.”

He opened his eyes, staring into yours, and he knew you meant it.

You didn’t care about the Kook vs. Pogue thing, about the stupid rules that had been drilled into them from birth. You just cared about him. He didn’t know how to let himself want something good, something real. But he wanted you. God, did he want you.

From that night on, everything changed. 

You started seeing each other in secret, meeting up when your parents were out of town or sneaking off to some hidden spot by the beach at night where no one would find you. Every time he saw you, it was like a high he couldn’t get enough of. You’d kiss, talk, hold each other like you were the only two people in the world, and he’d forget about all the shit in his life. Forget about the fact that he was supposed to be a screw-up who didn’t deserve someone like you.

You sat side by side at the dock, feet dangling just above the water, the tips of your shoes barely touching the surface. Something was calming about the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the dock, the world feeling small and distant for once, like it was just the two of you.

He leaned back on his hands, staring out at the horizon, not saying much. He’d been quiet today, more so than usual. You nudged him lightly with your shoulder.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorted, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t want ‘em. They’re not worth much.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him again. “C’mon. You’ve been quiet all day. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He hesitated, glancing down at the water, his fingers curling into the wood of the dock. He was biting back whatever was eating at him. He wasn’t the type to open up easily, you knew that, but he wanted to, for you. You wanted to know him, all of him, not just the fake exterior he put up for everyone else to see.

“You ever think about… how different your life would be if shit didn’t go so sideways?” he asked, his voice low, almost like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud.

You frowned, turning to face him, “What do you mean?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair.

“My mom, she… she used to date these losers. Real pieces of shit, y’know? Guys who’d roll through, thinking they owned the place, treating me like I was some kind of burden just because I was around.”

It wasn’t easy for him to say it, but he was doing it anyway, like the words had been stuck inside him for years.

“She didn’t really care what they did. As long as they paid for her booze, she was cool with whatever. They’d knock me around sometimes, tell me I wasn’t worth shit. But she never did anything about it.” He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze fixed on the water because he couldn’t look at you. “One of ‘em got real bad. Fucker hit me so hard one night, I thought I was gonna pass out. And when I told her… she didn’t care. Told me I was a liar. Said I probably deserved it.”

“Rafe…” you whispered, reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t pull away this time, just let you hold it, his fingers squeezing yours a little too tightly.

“I tried to stick it out,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Tried to stay for as long as I could. But one day, she kicked me out. Told me I was too much trouble, and she didn’t need me around anymore.” He laughed, but it was hollow, bitter. “I guess I wasn’t worth the space I took up.”

You were quiet. He liked that about you, that you didn’t try and get his thoughts out of his head, just let him do his thing, on his own time. There was nothing that could make up for the kind of pain he’d been through. You just squeezed his hand tighter, and he just knew you wished you could take some weight off his shoulders.

“That’s why you were in that house?” You brushed your lips against his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

It was hard for him to talk about this stuff. Hell, it was hard for him to talk at all when it came to anything real. You just sat there, holding his hand, being there. That was what made you different. Most people didn’t wait for him. They’d get frustrated, give up, move on.

You just... stayed. And that scared him almost as much as it comforted him.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

You shifted closer, your knees touching his now. “It matters to me.”

He didn’t understand how you could look at him like that, like he was worth something.

“You knew my name.”

You nodded, “You delivered fresh seafood to the house once.”

His eyes nearly popped out from their sockets, “I was fourteen.”

“Yeah?”

“And you remembered that?”

Your brows shot up like he’d said the dumbest thing ever. “Obviously.”

His breath caught, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, pulling you into his lap. His hands found your waist, desperate, almost frantic, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"You shouldn’t—" he started, but the words died on his lips because you were already kissing him, and it was like everything stopped. The world, his thoughts, all the shit that weighed him down. It was just you, your lips, the way your hands tangled in his hair, and the soft sounds you made against his mouth.

He kissed you harder, more urgently, like he was trying to prove something to himself — that he could have this, that he could deserve this. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips moved against yours and he felt like he was falling apart and putting himself back together all at once.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his chest was heaving, and you were looking at him with that same softness that made his stomach twist.

"How—How the hell did I get this lucky?" His voice cracked, just a little. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words spilled out anyway. 

You smiled, brushing your thumb across his cheek, and he realized then that his face was wet. He hadn’t even noticed the tears slipping down, hadn’t noticed the way he was trembling.

"You deserve this" you whispered. 

That was it.

That was the breaking point. A choked sob escaped him, and before he could stop himself, he crashed his lips against yours again, kissing you so hard it hurt, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t hold back the way he felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. For you.

His hands cupped your face, fingers trembling as he kissed you again and again, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he stopped. 

And as his tears mixed with your kiss, he realized that for the first time in his life, he wasn’t running.

He wasn’t pushing you away. He was falling, hard and fast, and he didn’t care. Because for once, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

[cupidlived]

Ride That Wave | 01

summary — After a reckless night changes the entire sphere of your life, your parents send you to live with your aunt in North Carolina. In a setting far from your old, glittering life, you’re left to confront your guilt and the secrets you’ve been running from. Things seem like they’re going uphill after your aunt’s pool boy, JJ, helps you settle in, but will you be able to keep yourself from slipping into your bad habits?

pairing — kook!reader x jj maybank

content — slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers

Aunt Vick is more excited to see you than you ever expected her to be.

"My girls!" she shouts, her voice bright and high, as if she hadn’t just torn herself away from a Southern Living magazine on the swing bench. The magazine flutters to the wooden steps, forgotten.

"Hi, Vick," your mother sighs, her words more tired than affectionate as her sister sweeps her into a tight hug. The Southern twang in your mom’s voice starts to emerge, partially unmasked after years of living in Manhattan. "Thanks for watchin' her. We'll have her back by December at the latest."

Vick grins at you over your mom’s shoulder, her eyes mischievous. She was the last person your mom would have chosen for you to stay with, and everyone knew it. But after your grandparents died, and your father, an only child, had no siblings to lean on, Vick was the only choice.

As your mother and aunt exchange pleasantries, you stand off to the side, your father’s arm wrapped around you like a safety net. He’s always seen you as his angel, even when your actions had been anything but. Now, though, the illusion is shattered, and there’s nothing left for him to say. "Please, be good," he implores, his voice a whisper full of desperation. "I'd love to have you back by the fall."

You don’t mention that your mother said you would be home in December — you know that if he’s aware of her plan, he’ll only lose the inevitable fight to have you back earlier, and you’d be at risk of not being home until the new year. You just let yourself breathe him in, feeling the warmth of his embrace as the finality of it all settles. If he’s right, fall is only three months away. You can survive that, you’ve been through worse.

When it’s time for your mother to say goodbye, there’s an awkward tension that you can’t shake. The last few months have strained your bond, and the guilt is like a heavy stone in your chest. It’s no secret that in the last year you’ve continued to disappoint her more and more. You brace yourself for something cold—a handshake, maybe, something transactional. But instead, she surprises you, her arms opening to pull you close.

The scent of her perfume, gentle and familiar, envelops you as her hand gently strokes your cheek, like it used to when you were little. "You know that all I’ve ever wanted for you was the very best," she whispers, her voice tender, but filled with the weight of the unsaid truth. The unspoken frustration that you won’t let her give you the world.

You nod, pressing your cheek into her palm. The warmth of her touch is a fleeting comfort.

"You've got to want it too, my love," she says softly, and then she pulls away, her gaze lingering just a moment longer before she steps back.

As they climb into the rental car, your mother behind the wheel, your father wipes away tears that are already halfway down his swollen face. The car drives off, its soft grey outline fading into the distance, leaving behind a silence that feels permanent — there’s no going back now. When their flight lands, Vick is supposed to be updating them on your every move, a constant presence in your life, whether you want it or not.

Vick breaks the silence first, as if she can't stand it anymore. "Well, kid. Lemme show you around." She grabs one of your duffels off the brick walkway and heads toward the front door. "Things are a little different after the remodel, so make sure you pay attention."

—

The first few days on Figure 8 pass in a blur of isolation. You’ve spent most of your time holed up in your bedroom, too embarrassed to face the world—or anyone. The silence here is deafening, and the loneliness gnaws at you in ways you never imagined. You’ve reached out to friends from home, of course, but no one is responding. Not that you can blame them. After the mess you made, it feels like you've been shut out for good.

Vick’s attempts to lure you out of your self-imposed exile are relentless. She whispers promises of Pink Whitney and trashy movies. The mention of alcohol makes it clear that she hasn’t quite caught wind of your fall from grace in Manhattan.

By the fifth day, Vick’s patience is wearing thin. It’s 10 a.m. and you’ve barely stirred from your bed, except to push around the plate of French toast she made you earlier. The dining room, pristine in white, feels foreign—an eerily quiet reminder of the last time you were here, more than a decade ago. Back then, your grandparents had been alive, and Vick was 18 and fully ready to leave the nest.

Now, everything has changed. The dining room, once coastal and cluttered with shells and driftwood, is sleek and minimalist. Your aunt inherited the house after your grandparents died, and she had transformed it into something entirely different. "I'm sick of the old coastal asshole look," she had said when the renovations started. "I see those all the time in the houses I list. Gimme class. Gimme modernity." The only thing that remained unchanged was the antique dining table, solid oak, polished to perfection.

Your plate sits facing the newly finished backyard, Vick’s pride and joy. She’d been texting you and your parents updates about the remodel, sending pictures of the work as it progressed, but you hadn’t really paid attention.

The silence between you and Vick stretches on, thick and heavy. She’s practically bouncing in her seat, eyes wide with impatience, waiting for you to speak. But you don’t. And she doesn’t either.

"So..." Vick finally breaks, her voice soft but teasing. "What’d you do?" Her smile is crooked, giving it a boyish charm. "You know you can tell me. I used to be pretty wild back in my day."

You raise an eyebrow, offering nothing but a half-shrug in response. If you're the only one on the island who knows the full story, you'd rather keep it that way.

Vick huffs, clearly starting to lose her patience. "Come on, spill it. Did you kill somebody? Have a pregnancy scare?"

"No!" You almost laugh, though it sounds hollow. You fiddle with your fork, taking a quick glance of the backyard. At this point, anything is better than entertaining Vick’s curiosity. A guy is out there, netting leaves from the willow tree and fishing them out of the infinity pool. You don’t want to talk about it. Not yet, at least.

Vick’s gaze follows your line of sight, and her smile widens. Just like that, her previous line of questioning vanishes into thin air. "See something you like?" she teases, her tone full of mischief.

The sun has crept high, beating down on anyone caught in its rays. This guy? No shirt, sweat glistening on his bronzed skin as he hauls the net over his shoulder, muscles flexing in a way that makes you feel suddenly very aware of your own discomfort.

"Yeah, pretty cute," you offer, trying to sound casual, though you’re sure your voice betrays you. 'Cute' doesn’t even come close. But you’ve sworn off boys until at least a year into college. So you force your attention elsewhere. Your syrup has congealed into a thin skin, and you twirl your fork in it absently, trying to focus on anything but the man in the backyard.

Just as you do, you notice the way his eyes flick to you through the glass door, the briefest glance that sends a flush rushing to your cheeks.

Vick leans in with a grin that says she knows exactly what you’re thinking. "That’s JJ, my new pool boy. He’s your age, I’m guessing." Her eyes dance with amusement, clearly relishing in your sudden discomfort. "I could totally set you up, if you want."

You shake your head quickly, your heart picking up speed. "No," you mutter, hoping JJ didn’t realize you’d been staring. "I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now." You push the plate of untouched food aside, suddenly realizing how childish you must look, poking at your breakfast like a kid.

Vick laughs and grabs your plate, tossing the food into the trash. “Oh, I love some forbidden action," she teases, nudging you with her shoulder. "Besides, romance isn’t dead, kid."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, though part of you wonders if she’s right.

thank you for all of the support on the intro 🥹 sooo excited to be writing again & i’ll likely be making a separate blog so i can interact w everyone 🫶🏽

[princessbrunette]

let me rip you out of your comfort zone for a moment.

we all know john b to be the calm, patient, comforting daddy— and we love him that way. he’s our safety, a net that catches you when you fall. but, i would be doing you a disservice if i didn’t remind you of the rare but existing side to him that’s a little rougher. a little scarier. think back to when he snuck into tannyhill to supposedly kill ward, and came into sarah’s room with a gun and got all mean and in her face before dragging her outside. that john b.

think season one john b, pre sarah — a little troublesome, sarcastic, always at parties with a girl hanging off his arm, flirts with you by being a little mean.

so with this version of him in mind, let me introduce you to toxicex!johnb.

he’s always teasing you in public, making little jabs at you for the choices you’ve made, following you around the grocery store to banter with you until you’re pouting (when really, he just wanted to follow you around because he’s still madly in love with you.) leaves you with his own smile each and every time, humming out a “nice to see you, sweetheart.” which makes you roll your eyes and simultaneously wanna fuck him just one more time.

he purposely flirts with girls at parties in your line of vision, but it doesn’t sting too much because his eyes are on you the whole time— wide and puppy like when he sees you all over that kook you’ve been seen hanging with. it just makes him madder at you.

but the ending is inevitable each time, you wind up in tears on the doorstep to the chateau, sniffling about how no one can get you off like he could and you need him to put you in your place. just one more time, you beg— and he smiles all understanding and sweet knowing it won’t be.

“was waiting for you to show up. come on in, sweetheart.”

he knows what you need. he needs to put you in that mushy, brainless spot that no guy knows how to invoke. that’s why he’s got you kneeling between his legs on the couch, giving you soft little slaps to your cheek as you whine like the little puppy dog he remembered you to be.

“yeaaah, that was a good one, wasn’t it? got you good there.” he grins, thumbing at the sore skin. “c’mon, sweet girl. another one. yooou can take it. that’s my big girl.” when he smacks you once more.

the dick is phenomenal, way bigger than anyone else you try to replace him with. he’s even kind enough to let you sleep with him in his bed, just for old time sake — but as soon as you wake up you’re shoving your clothes back on. leaving his sleeping body in the sheets.

if you’d only stayed until he woke up, he would have asked you if you wanted to try things again. oh well, he was certain you’d be back soon.

[bbyg4rl]

how my !readers would react if they found themselves in a conflict between jj and luke:

ARSTY!READER . . . the second she sees luke get aggressive with jj, shes in between them. her first instinct is to protect jj, no matter who its from. she'll stand in front of him, not recklessly, but firmly. like she's shielding him with her own body. shes not the type to scream or escalate the situation, her voice is soft but still razor-sharp when she tells luke to fuck off.

and after its all done, in the quiet aftermath, she holds jj, she takes him to her boutique, locks up every door, tells him hes safe. she holds him when he cries, stands beside him when he needs to break something. she teaches him to pour it all out, teaches him to paint it out. he isnt good at it in any sense, he paints surfboards in bruised colors, breaks canvases because he doesnt know where to put all the hurt, all the anger. but she's always there, holding him through it all. she makes sure he knows that after its all done, shes gonna be there for him. like a safety net.

SUGARPLUM!READER . . . the sight of luke hurting or screaming at jj would shake her to the core. she’d be completely overwhelmed. her eyes would go wide, and she might drop whatever she’s holding, completely frozen in place. but when she sees JJ flinch or take a hit, something clicks. her body might tremble, but she’d force herself to walk, even if her knees are shaking. she'd take jj's hand and tug, tears in her eyes, she doesnt know what to do but she knows jj shouldnt be in this situation.

she'd take his hand and lead him away, she'd tell him to walk away. she'd lead him into the first door they find. locks it behind them and sinks to her knees, pulling him down with her. shes crying, not because shes scared but because she realises this is what he'd gone thru his whole life. luke's voice is still thundering outside the door, but she can't let jj hear him. she pulls him into her chest, her palms covering his ears, she'd kiss the top of his head, whispering sweet things. contrasting everything luke says, luke calls him a worthless piece of shit, she tells him hes worthy of everything in the world. luke tells him he doesnt deserve anything, she tells him he deserves the world.

CAMGIRL!READER . . . she has no reason to be in the neighbourhood in the first place— kook camgirl with perfectly done nails, driving an expensive car. but shes there anyway, for whatever damn reason. when she first sees the fight take place, “ugh. typical pogues,” she'd say, rolling her eyes and speeding away. she doesn’t care. not her problem.

but then, it nags at her stomach. forcing her to slow down. she taps her nails on her steering wheel, once, twice— “fuck, i hate being a good person.” she turns the car around quick, speeding back down the same road. parks down the street, grabs her phone, and starts filming as she struts toward them like she owns the sidewalk. “YO DRUNK SANTA.” she calls out, voice bratty and annoyed. waves her phone tauntingly. “say cheese, crackhead.”

luke lunges at her, but she just moves out of the way, so quick he ends up on the ground. “touch me and ill gouge your eyes out, bitch.” she says, already tugging jj by his wrist. jj blinks at her, dazed, blood in his mouth. and then… he smiles. she rolls her eyes. “great. you’re a lunatic too.”

still, she helps him up, mostly because luke looks like he might circle back around. she half-drags jj to her car, tosses him into the passenger seat, and drives off. she doesnt speak, just cranks the ac up as she drives away. rolling her eyes at jj, whos staring at her like this was the best day of his life. it is.

when they’re a few blocks from the cut, she pulls over. reaches into her expensive little purse and pulls out some folded bills “don’t go back there,” she says, thrusting it into his hand. “like, ever.” she doesn’t wait for a thank-you, just speeds off again.

if i had to put them in hogwarts houses, artsy!reader would be gryffindor, sugarplum!reader would be hufflepuff, camgirl!reader would be slytherin.

my masterlist !

[98shawns]

some protector. (i)

As the Golden Child of The Cut, you left the Outer Banks years ago in search of a better life. Now that you’ve been called on to return, the ghosts of your past remind you why you had to leave, but also why you need to stay.

good girl/pogue!reader x rafe cameron

chapter one | two

words: 3241

warnings: swearing, mentions of injury, mentions of drug use, mentions of violence, aged up characters, canon divergence, not beta-read, no use of y/n, maybe too much reader backstory but whatever!

a/n: not me reviving my fuckass fanfiction blog because i’m infatuated with drew starkey… idky i love men who look like they’d call me slurs. i wrote this like a madwoman even though i have a bunch of essays due. whatever! i hope y’all enjoy <333

o1: the little pogue girl that could

Rafe Cameron seems to be someone who does not regret.

At least, that’s what you’d always thought. How could he? Someone who grows up with the world at his fingertips doesn’t have room in his heart for regret. Rafe Cameron was always someone who fought for what he wanted with full force, while always coming out the other side victorious. Rafe got mostly everything he wanted; when you grow up achieving everything you desire, how could there be a chance to feel regret for what you don’t have?

Rafe Cameron gets what he wants, just like any other rich brat from Figure Eight. There’s nothing he needs to feel regretful for, yet the face he makes when he sees you for the first time in three years may say otherwise.

But who knows? It’s not your problem as you catch a glimpse of Rafe staring at you on your father’s fishing boat from the harbour. Why he was even down here this early and not asleep in his ginormous mansion is beyond you. Why should you care? When you left the Outer Banks to go to university, Rafe Cameron made it clear that you’d always be a pathetic little Pogue no matter where you stepped foot. You shouldn’t care that seeing the regret on his face all these years later makes your stomach churn.

“Hey, isn’t that Rafe?” Your younger brother Leon’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and your head whips back to the helm where he’d been perched. He quirked an eyebrow at your scowl as you looked back into the water. “I thought you guys were close…”

You rolled your eyes, “Nope. I haven’t spoken to him since I left.”

“Oh… I thought when you used to tutor Sarah—”

“We barely spoke.”

“But back then Sarah always said—”

“Drop it.”

Knowing better than to press the issue any further, Leon drove your father’s small fishing boat in silence until he reached your fishing spot. He eventually changes the subject to talk about how business had been steady since you’ve been away; how his friends from school still visit him since he graduated to work on the boat, how the sea had somehow seemed more unruly since your father had his accident. So much has changed since you left.

You barely notice. Everything your kid brother says goes in one ear and out the other as your mind replays Rafe’s expression over and over again.

You try not to dwell on it for long. Getting back into the groove of the boat took a stronger priority than your unresolved feelings for Rafe Cameron. You pushed down the memories you pretended didn’t exist in favour of listening to your brother’s instructions on casting the net.

Things were simpler here on the boat. Your family came from a long line of fishermen, so you grew up with the principle that the sea was something that had all the answers. You yourself never had that calling; unlike your mother and middle brother who were people of the sea, you found solace in your studies. Unlike your mother and brother, you found the answers to your problems in the prospect of leaving The Cut; of leaving a life of hard labour behind in favour of a cushy desk job in some big city.

Everyone in your family knew you’d be the first to leave. No one was more eager to send you off than your equally bookish fisherman of a father. He enrolled you into Kook Academy where he knew you’d graduate at the top of your class, despite your Pogue background. You’re destined for much more than what this island has to offer, is what he’d always said. His words rang in your mind back then when you accepted the full ride scholarship to go to university away from the Outer Banks, and they rang in your mind again as you came straight back after graduating to help on the boat.

It was because of an accident at sea… an injury from the boat that even your usually diligent father couldn’t see coming; something that could’ve been much more fatal if he weren’t such a careful man. Ironically, it was the man who made you promise to never look back at the sea that had you come running to its clutches. He could barely look you in the eye when you told him you’d be taking his place while he recovered for a few months. Your brother couldn’t man the boat on his own; the vessel may be Leon’s responsibility to inherit as the eldest son, but it was your responsibility as the eldest child overall to take care of your family.

You returned without question, and realized while you helped your brother haul fish from the sea, that despite all the work you did to get away from the water, being near its vastness made all your worries smaller in comparison. Maybe these were the answers you’d been looking for. Beyond your father, you looked at the sea and thought about your traditional mother who was less enthusiastic than you’d expected at the reality of your return to Outer Banks. You thought about your youngest brother, Clem, a boy with his whole life ahead of him who was probably even smarter than you when you were his age. You thought about Leon, who handled the ancestral responsibility you dumped on him at an age when he was too young to think for himself.

And you thought about Rafe… a boy you remembered having the world weighing down on his shoulders. Someone who was the same as you despite being worlds away. Someone who was the only person that understood you despite being so different. Someone who you loved and hated at the same time, who you gave all your firsts to while swearing to never want to see again. Someone who could make you laugh and cry all at once.

“He’s trouble, y’know.” Your brother grunts, helping you pull up the net strewn onto the side of the boat. You two had been working away on the boat for a few hours and Leon has decided he’s run out of other things to talk about. You wonder if it’s because he can tell your mind keeps circling back to the blond man staring at you from the harbour. You pretend you didn’t hear him as silver scaled fish fall against your feet but he continues anyways, “Rafe Cameron has only gotten worse since you’ve been gone.”

“You say that as if that’s my fault.”

“What?” Leon, never one to be good with his words, frowns at your response. “That’s not… it’s because of his dad or something.”

That catches your attention, “Mr. Cameron has always been like that. He’s a lot harder on Rafe than he is on Sarah or Wheezie.”

You see Leon nodding slowly in the corner of your eye as he helps pick up the net to pour your catch into the last bucket. “Well you should see Rafe now. He’s a fucking reckless cokehead who picks fights anywhere he can. Blame Mr. Cameron all you want but Rafe is old enough to know better.”

Your silence is telling of what you think of it all. Of course you’ve heard what Rafe has been up to these last few years. Try to get away from Outer Banks all you want, but the grapevine is never lacking stories about what goes on in this godforsaken island. The violence, crime, and scandal that happens here wouldn't be believable to your sheltered university friends in the slightest. This island is cursed. You knew it better than anyone, and it’s one of the many reasons you left.

“You say all this shit about Rafe as if either of us know him well enough to care.” You mumbled as you picked up a mop to begin cleaning the boat’s floor, loud enough for Leon to give you an unreadable stare. You glared back at him, daring him to continue.

“I’m just saying,” he starts carefully. “remember you’re only back here for our family. For dad, who didn’t even want you stepping foot on the boat in the first place. Don’t get distracted and stay longer than you need to.”

You’re silent as Leon takes the mop from you to hand you a cloth instead.

“Nothing here is worth giving up the life you’ve made for yourself. You’re destined for much more than this island has to offer.”

𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲

You and Leon had just finished hauling your catch onto the back of your family’s pickup truck when he told you to start making deliveries. You quirked your brow as he tossed you the keys and a list of stops, “Are you sure you don’t want me to help clean up?”

“You look like you can barely stand.”

You shoot your younger brother a glare, but he shrugs when you don’t retaliate. He’d know better than anyone that your body wouldn’t be used to a full day of work on the boat.

“Just go. A lot of these guys will be happy to see your face again.”

“I hate it when you tell me what to do.”

“Then maybe you should’ve stayed and become captain instead.”

Leon’s smirk is barely there as he shoos you away, and you scoff as you climb into the driver’s seat of the truck. You start the engine and wonder when your kid brother, three years your junior, had grown up so much.

“That little shit… he’s not even captain yet. There’s no way in hell dad would let his nineteen year old kid be captain.” You mumble to yourself, steering the truck into your first stop of the evening.

Deliveries went smoothly— it’s not as if there were a lot of establishments a small fishing boat like yours could rely on. The places that bought your fish were restaurants and seafood stores your family had been in business with for generations. Just as Leon predicted, everyone was more than happy to see The Little Pogue Girl That Could back in The Cut.

“Just as long as you’re not staying here for good,” Heyward, one of your family’s longtime customers, eyes you as he pays. You smile in return and thank him before climbing back into your truck to drive to The Wreck, your last stop of the day.

“Delivery!” You call, ice box in hand as you open the back door of the restaurant with your foot. Faced with a busy kitchen, you call again until a familiar voice calls back.

“Sorry for the wait— oh my god!” Kiara gasps when she sees you and you stare back in surprise. You’d forgotten her family owned the restaurant in question.

“Kie!” You smile as you put the box of fish down to hug the younger girl, recognizing her more as one of Leon’s good friends than the rebellious girl you attended Kook Academy with. She hugged you back before pulling away, holding your shoulders to take you in.

“Holy shit— I’m sorry I just didn’t expect you. Leon told us about what happened with your dad but I had no idea you’d be back to help out too.”

You laugh, “I’m glad you’re keeping him in check even after you’ve all graduated.”

“Of course… oh god, your payment…” Kiara grinned as she fished into her apron to hand you the pay for your delivery. You thanked her, not doubting that memories of you helping her, Leon, and their other three friends out of sticky situations came flooding her mind. “Fuck, I owe you so many dinners here.” She says, as if she was reading your mind.

You laugh and shake your head, “I’ll take you up on that next time when I’m with Leon. He gave me an easy way out of cleaning the boat on my first day.”

“Your whole family is too soft on each other.” Kiara chuckles. “Actually, all of our friends are here for dinner, you’ll at least come say hi, won’t you?”

Already in a good mood at seeing the Carrera girl, you nodded in agreement. You remembered the other three boys Leon hung around: John B. the leader, JJ the rascal, and Pope the brain, as well as the student who would’ve achieved the same scholarship you did to leave the island. You weren’t close to any of them but they did seem to appreciate you as their friend’s older sister who doesn’t ask too many questions about what mischief they’d been up to. The appreciation is mutual as you think about Leon’s otherwise strict childhood being offset by his ragtag group of fellow Pogue friends.

Kiara leads you from the kitchen to the restaurant’s dining area, where you’re met with one more familiar face than you were expecting.

Sarah Cameron, the quirky Kook girl you used to tutor, sat beside John B., casually sipping on her cup of pop before her mouth gaped open at the sight of you.

“No way—”

“Sarah?”

The blonde squealed as she jumped out of your seat to launch her body at you, as if she’d been waiting for you like you were a soldier returning from war. You laugh at her reaction and hug her back, surprised at her presence with Leon’s old school friends.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed, breaking the embrace to look at you. “I haven’t seen you in years!”

“I know. You’ve grown up so much, Sarah.” You grin and look back at John B., JJ, and Pope. “You all have.”

The three boys turned men smile at you before Sarah steals back your attention, “Ugh your brother should’ve told us you were coming, were you helping on the boat?”

“Yep, I just made a delivery for Kie’s family.”

“Of course,” she started, biting her lip as she took you in. “Did you see Rafe at the harbour?”

The mention of Sarah’s older brother makes you stiffen, and her smile falters a bit before she continues. “He was down there this morning to take care of some business for our dad…”

“I don’t know.” You responded flatly, pretending that his face at the harbour wasn’t flashing in your mind at the very mention of his name. Sarah nods slowly, noting that you weren’t quite denying what she was asking.

“He and I still aren’t that close but he’s been having a hard time these days… you two used to get along so well; I’m sure he’d be so happy to see you—”

“I was wondering why Leon was mentioning you so casually earlier. I didn’t know you all hung out.” Sarah’s lips pressed together at the way you changed the subject. You smile at her sheepishly and run your hands up and down her arms, “Pogue life suits you, Sarah Cameron.”

Kiara calling your name from the kitchen gave you the distraction you needed. Your attention turned to the brunette, who handed you a to-go bag with The Wreck’s logo printed on the front.

“For you and Leon. You’re both probably hungry enough for two portions of dinner.”

“Thank you, Kie.” You smile, ignoring Sarah’s worried expression.

𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𓇼˚₊‧✩*ੈ𓏲

After not even twenty four hours after you stepped on this island, Rafe Cameron was haunting your thoughts. You thought about him on the car ride back to the boat, you thought about him as you ate the food Kiara packed for you and Leon on the drive back home, and you thought about him some more as you ate your second helping of dinner at home.

You tried to keep up with your mom’s questions about your day on the boat, “Yes it was as hard as I remember.” “No, Leon and I didn’t fight.” “No, I am not moving back to the Outer Banks.” Your dad grunts disapprovingly at the question while your mom rolls her eyes, but it was all in good fun. You barely pay any mind as the conversation shifts to Clem’s day at school, and your thoughts wander back to Rafe.

How hard of a time was he having? Ward Cameron was not a man to take lightly, and there was no doubt that he was the cause of Rafe’s suffering. Rafe… a pitiful Kook who was much more sensitive than he’d like to admit. Rafe with the world stacked up on his shoulders, Rafe who would make you hug his body and kiss his temple to keep his worries away. Rafe, a man so vulnerable that his guard was up even to you, the only other person he knew who truly understood him.

Dinner ends as quick as it begins, and your mom tells you to wash the day off in the shower. Dad discusses business with Leon, who reminds you to set your alarm for another early day tomorrow. Your baby brother Clem starts the dishes. Life is simple back at the Outer Banks, yet your feelings about it remain complicated.

You wash the smell of sweat and salt from your body, the warm water soothes your soreness. Rafe still swims in your mind; everyone on this island looked at you like you were the answer to all their problems, but you knew your return wasn’t going to fix anything. Your presence wasn’t going to fix your dad’s broken body, it wasn’t going to make the sea any less unruly, and it definitely was not going to help Rafe Cameron out of his troubled lifestyle.

You get dressed into your pyjamas after you finish showering and enter your time capsule of a room. Stupid posters from magazines that you and your friends at Kook Academy liked littered your walls, and knick knacks your mom bought you were strewn throughout the room as small presents to remind you that you were her only daughter and that she wasn’t just some strict, domineering presence in your life.

Everything you’d gotten from three years of being with Rafe was thrown out in a fit of rage when you two had fallen out, all except for one gift: a necklace he’d bought you for your one year anniversary.

The piece of jewelry hung on your bedside lamp, and you toyed with it as you wondered what exactly your relationship with Rafe was back then for him to buy you something that you’d like so much. Looking back, a chain with a singular Pearl strewn on it is barely enough to count as a thoughtful gift, but you still wore it every day while you were with Rafe. He knew you’d love it, something simple and inconspicuous while still showing that he cared… a Pearl, which reminded you of the sea your family devoted their lives to, and a Pearl that represented Rafe’s loyalty and love towards you, despite the mutual ambiguity towards your relationship.

You sigh as you realize that if you really didn’t care about Rafe like you said you did, you would’ve thrown this necklace away years ago. How could you forget about a boy who you gave all your firsts to? The boy who felt more abandoned by your absence than your own family?

You study the necklace some more, but the sound of a tapping at your window makes you jump up in surprise.

In a sight familiar and unfamiliar all at once, you turn to your window to see Rafe Cameron staring at you from behind the glass, his expression filled with the same look of regret as when you saw him on the harbour.

[voidangxls]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Secret Admirer pt:1 ʚ♡ɞ

╰┈➤ a part of my valentines special!

pairings(s)- JJ Maybank x reader

Summary- It was the week of Valentine’s and the school was decorated in red and pink. You weren’t truly in the spirit for the specific holiday but what happens when suddenly you have a secret admirer?

category- fluff

warnings- timeline is before s1, use of y/n, pining, not proofread

word count: 4272

masterlist; valentines special; obx masterlist

- part 2

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

You had grown up in the Outer Banks, a place where everyone knew each other. You had always lived here, you were a kook but you went to the public school where the Pogues went after you begged your parents.

JJ Maybank had known of you for forever, its the Outer Banks, everyone knew each other. But the first time he truly noticed you was at the annual back to school Kegger.

When the boy spotted you, you had been dancing with your friends, and a drink in hand. That was the first time JJ had ever seen you look so genuinely carefree and he knew he wanted to see it again.

That night he didn’t know what had come over him or why he felt the desire to talk to you or at least see that same carefree happy look on your face once again but he did and he hasn’t went back.

That night when he saw you it was only the beginning of the party but later that same night, towards the end of the party he saw you again. Only this time you were alone, your friends weren’t around like they had been before. The second time he saw you that night you were at the shore of the beach. You had been away from the party, sitting on the sand, your feet settled in a spot where the water would gently hit your feet where it met the sand. The moon was bright that night he remembers, it was bright and it casted and beautiful glow onto your silhouette sitting on the beach. JJ had only ever been one for meaningless hookups but when he saw you that night he was enchanted, he didn’t know why or what he wanted from it but he knew he was blown away. This time he saw you compared to the first, you didn’t look carefree and loose, you looked calm and at peace.

JJ remembers what you were wearing that night, both times he saw you played in his mind constantly. He remembers you were wearing some jean shorts, part of your bikini sticking out, you had a pretty blue bikini top on, and a white net cropped sweater over top of that. JJ remembers you had many bracelets and rings on, you had a necklace as well but he couldn’t see what it was from so far away.

It had been months since that day. School started in August and it was currently the first day of February. JJ could never scrounge up the confidence to try and speak to you.

Usually he was a very confident guy but you were different for some reason.

First of all, you were a kook. He didn’t get a long with kooks, he didn’t like them and they didn’t like him. If he was talking to a kook it was arguing or he was working unless it was Kiara. All of the girls he would confidently hook up with or speak to were either Torouns or Pogues, never Kooks. But with you, you were different. You were a kook sure but you didn’t seem like one to the eye. You went to the public school amongst the Pogues, you had never flaunted your money, and you’ve never started an argument with a Pogue for no reason. On top of all that, you had caught his eye worse than any girl before. Any girl who he had a silly elementary school crush on, any girl who he was only physically attracted to, any girl who he has had in his bed before and it scared the shit out of him.

You weren’t like the other Kooks to the eye, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind bugged him. What if he tried to speak to you and you started acting all stuck up and Kook-like, not that he would have the guts to talk to you anyways but thats besides the point.

And in JJ’s mind even if you were truly who he thought you were, at the end of the day, you were a Kook and he was a Pogue. Two teens born into different lives, different sides of the island, it would never work. He shouldn’t be interested in you and you would never be interested in him so him being too scared to talk to you was for the best, at least in his mind it was.

Those thoughts and concerns didn’t stop the boy from thinking about you though, or staring at you. The two of you had classes together, and ever since that night on the beach he would sit back in his seat in the classroom and admire you in whatever classes you guys had together, which was shockingly a lot.

One night he was with his group of friends, the four of them hanging out at the Chateau when Pope spoke up in the comfortable silence.

“You guys know, Y/n L/n?” He asks casually, his head not raising from the textbook in front of him.

At the mention of your name JJ’s head shoots up towards Pope. He doesn’t speak at first, too stunned to speak and too scared for his friends to know about his undeniable crush on you.

“Yeah, Ive had dinner with her family before” Kiara responds, looking up from her phone and over to Pope

JJ’s head then shoots from Pope over to Kiara. Why hadn’t he known about this? and when the hell did it happen?

“Yeah, why?” John B asks

After John B speaks up JJ’s head bounds back in Pope direction, very impatiently waiting for Pope to get to his point on why he brought you up.

“While I was delivering groceries for my dad, one of the stops was at her house and when I got there she invited me inside. She gave me a water and a bag of chips and a $100 tip, she’s actually really sweet.” Pope informs them, finally looking up from his book.

JJ had an inkling you weren’t like the other Kooks, but knowing how you treated a Pogue, specifically one of his friends secretly warmed his heart but even through that feeling all he could respond was “damn” as he messed with his hat in his hands

“Thats cool” John B responds to Pope

“Yeah, she was really nice when I met her. I don’t really know why we aren’t friends to be honest.” Kiara shrugs

“yeah, best experience I’ve had delivering groceries” Pope says

JJ feels his eyes roll before he had the chance to think about it “what, you got a crush on her or something?” he asks with a slight very fake laugh, trying to play off his annoyance

Pope looks up at the blonde boy with a confused face and lets out a genuine laugh but before he could respond in his defense John B speaks up “no, but you do” he says casually, hitting a tennis ball up against the wall of his home and catching it.

JJ’s head shoots towards his bestfriend, his eyes wide and his expression shocked. “No, I don’t. What the fuck are you talking about” he scoffs, slightly nervous, trying to brush off what John B had said.

“dude, no need to lie. I see you staring her down in class, it’s embarrassing.” John B responds, standing up from the couch and facing JJ.

“JJ, has a crush?” Kie and Pope ask shockingly in unison

“yup” John B says, popping the ‘p’. He looks away from JJ and to the other two, his eyes now moving between all three of his friends.

The boy walks over to JJ, now standing behind him and puts a hands on his shoulder. “I don’t know when it happened, but our boys got it bad” He says with a smirk, looking down at his best friend, waiting for him to admit the facts

“Wha- What the fuck are you talking about?” JJ retorts, trying to salvage the last bit of dignity he had. JJ Maybank didn’t have crushes, that wasn’t something he did, and he definitely didn’t get along with Kooks. Yet here he is with a crush on one.

As soon as John B outed his crush it he knew that he was done for. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the facts for more than 5 minutes against his friends, but he was going to keep it going for as long as he could.

“Dude, Kie and Pope might not notice because they actually pay attention in class but you’re always staring at her, like never taking your eyes off of her type shit. I even saw you take a different route to history because you would pass her” John B says and JJ is shocked to say the least. He thought that he was being sneaky and going unnoticed with his admiring but clearly his best friend had caught him red handed.

“When did this start?” Kiara asks, a slight laugh to her tone. Her tone is shocked, she couldn’t help it, JJ was known for simple hookups and then never seeing the girl again.

JJ lets out a huge sigh and looks around at his friends. Kiara is looking at him with a mix of amusement and shock, Pope with his mouth open in shock, and John B with a smirk on his face. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of the interrogation so he rolls his eyes and caves. “Since the back to school Kegger” He admits

“What!?” Pope exclaims, stepping forward

“Oh my god” Kiara scoffs shockingly

“woah” John B’s eyes widen

The blonde haired boy then starts to get defensive “what? whats that for?” he asks, talking about their reactions to what he said

“dude, I didn’t know it was for that long” John B responds, his face shocked, eyes wide

“I never thought id see the day JJ Maybank had a crush” Pope admits, shock covering his face and his tone. At this point JJ was getting annoyed, yes he knows this is completely new for him but if he was being completely honest, he felt this overwhelming urge to talk about you. Now that his crush on you was very well not a secret to his only friends, he felt this deep need to just ramble on about you to them. Sure, he didn’t know who you were through and through but he had an idea of who you were and that only left him wanting to know all of you.

He knew that you kept your school bag organized and always carried at least one bag of gummies in it as a snack during classes. He knew the red ones were your favorite by the way you would save them for last. He knew that on most nights you didn’t get enough sleep, you were usually always struggling to stay awake during class or you just looked tired, but to JJ who looked just as beautiful as when you look like you got the perfect amount of sleep. He knew that your favorite highlighter to use was the yellow one but you hated the color yellow, he knew your favorite color was lavender and he knew you were usually very cold, no matter the weather outside you would always have a jacket either in your bag, on, or around your waist. He knew that you took care of your hair by the way it was always so perfect and shiny, he knew you actually cared about your grades, he knew you loved getting your nails done seeing as he never saw you without them done. JJ knew that you loved to paint, you would always be in the art room during free period or whenever you had free time. He would be lying if he said he didn’t purposely pass the art room to get a glimpse of you, seeing you in your element, so focused and in tune was truly beautiful to him, just like the night he saw you under the moonlight on the beach. He knew quite a bit about you, possibly things some of your friends wouldn’t even notice but he wanted to know more, no he needed to know more.

“Look, I don’t know when it happened but i’m hooked. Theres just something about her man thats different, that drives me crazy.“ JJ admits, sitting back down from his standing position and running a hand through his hair.

“Woah” Kiara says and JJ’s eyes move to her

“what?” he asks confused, holding his cap between his hands stressfully

Kiara then takes a seat in front of him with a smile. She had never seen him like this and it shocked her, but she was also a girl and felt inclined to help him out because she absolutely did not trust any advice or ‘words of wisdom’ the other boys would give him “You like her, a lot. Shes really sweet, and shes not a stuck up Kook like the rest of them. Just tell her how you feel, i’m sure she’d give you a chance.”

JJ looks at Kiara for a moment then down to his lap with a thoughtful expression “okay” he nods “i’ll do it” he decides

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

It had been a week and JJ still hadn’t grown the nerve to even speak to you, let alone confess his feelings. It had been a week of his friends relentlessly teasing him for his change of personality over you. Then he had an idea. Now, he knew he wasn’t the most romantic person or wasn’t the best with words but he had an idea and he was determined to at least try it.

So late at night on a school night he began his search. He found an envelope and a piece of paper somewhere around the chateau, he took it back to his bedroom even though John B was asleep and began to think. He never experienced romance or crushes, he never read poetry or paid attention in english class. You were you, in his eyes you were the closest thing to perfect and he barely even knew you. He knew he would never be able to equate to your standards or what you deserve, but he would try his very best to write something romantic for you on this blank piece of paper.

He stayed awake, pen in hand, and blank page in front of him for almost two hours before he finally wrote a singular word on the paper. Once he was satisfied with what he had written he folded the paper and slid it into the envelope. JJ sat and stared at the now filled envelope for a moment, something was missing. He grabbed the pen again and drew a heart on the front of it, a heart that would be seen as soon as you picked it up. He just hoped you would be able to read his handwriting because admittedly…it wasn’t the best.

The next day all of the Pogues rode to school together, JJ still not free from the teasing. Once they arrived they all went their separate ways towards their lockers but JJ walked the way to yours. He made sure you and your friends weren’t around to see him slip the letter into your locker.

JJ, ever so ‘stealthy’ walked past your locker and slipped the note through the slits of it before quickly heading towards his locker that was luckily not far from yours. He was able to see you from his locker, now he had no reason to go to his locker since he didn’t have anything in there nor did he really bring anything to school but he wanted to get a front row seat to you seeing his note.

The morning had been hectic for you. Your alarm didn’t to off, your mom was taking diggs at you again, you didn’t have time to get breakfast and you didn’t pack your daily bag of candy. Today would be miserable. On top of that, valentines was next week. Now you truly had nothing against Valentines day, it was a holiday for couples and you enjoyed seeing people in love, love was beautiful but when its something you aren’t celebrating you don’t really want that to be the only thing talked about for the next two weeks.

Aside from the hectic morning you walked into school, head held high, and backpack on your shoulders. You’re running a little tight on your usual morning schedule, usually you would stop by your locker, then stop by the art room to check your work or just talk to the teacher before heading to your homeroom when the bell rings. You didn’t have time for that today though, you would have to head to your locker then straight to your homeroom.

You arrive in front of your locker, unaware of the blue watchful eyes watching you from across the hall. You put your locker combination in and open the door. When you do so you see something quickly fall out of the locker and down to the ground, right in front of your feet. Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth downturns in confusion.

Leaning down to pick it up you realize it was an envelope. Your face is confronted in confusion as you stand back to your full height, inspecting the white envelope beneath your fingertips. There was a little pink heart right in the middle of it which brings a small smile to your lips.

You take your backpack off of your shoulders and push it into your locker. Then you turn your head, looking around you to see if anyone was watching you. There was some other students either roaming the hallway before first period or standing at their lockers. Once you saw the coast was clear you carefully begin to open the envelope, still unaware of the watchful eyes of a certain blonde. Pulling the paper out from the confinement you unfold it and begin to read. The handwriting was scrappy and a bit messy but you were still able to read it.

‘That night I saw you on the beach changed my view of you, not that it was bad in the first place. You’re beautiful and that night you looked so at peace, I wish I could see that again. - secret boy

A wide smile appears on your face as you read the words written, no it wasn’t Shakespeare but that didn’t change the fact that what was written for you was very sweet. There was no name attached so you had no clue who was behind this note, all you knew was that it’s a guy. After reading the note you clutch it in your hands and look around you once again, smile very evident on your face. You take another moment of staring down at the note before you put it into your pocket and grab your backpack, closing the locker behind you and walking to your class.

A certain Pogue who had been watching you lights up when he saw your reaction to his note. He saw how it made you smile and blush and he couldn’t help but do the same. Once you left your locker he decides his work for that day is done and walks to his class

As the day went on you couldn’t help but think about the note left in your locker that morning, it was honestly the only thing you could think about the entire day. You thought about who it could possibly be. You knew it was a Pogue, no Kooks went to the public school besides you and Kiara. But then another part of you thought that maybe this whole thing was a joke, you didn’t know why you thought of that as a possibility because you had never experienced bullying from your piers. Then yet again another part of you thought that maybe the note wasn’t made for you, maybe they accidentally dropped it in the wrong locker. Yet you hoped it was all real, you wanted it to be real but your search was big, most of the school showed up to the Keggers so that didn’t narrow your possibilities, and it was a guy, which barely narrowed your possibilities.

Later that day, on your way to lunch you were talking to your friend Paige and you told her about the note.

“oh my gosh thats actually so cute!” Paige responds to you, her tone holding excitement.

“Look, I don’t even know if ifs real. It could just be a joke or maybe they put it in the wrong locker” You say with a shrug, the both of you walking towards the lunchroom together.

Little did you know your secret admirer overheard you. When he heard you sound so dejected and pessimistic over the note he frowned. Why would you think it wasn’t meant for you, you were amazing? Now he needed to make it known that your negative thoughts were indeed wrong.

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

The next morning wasn’t as hectic as the one before. You woke up to your alarm, ate breakfast, packed your bag correctly (including your gummies) and your mom wasn’t home to argue with you.

You waked into school and quickly headed to your locker, luckily today you would be able to stop by the art room like usual. Opening your locker an envelope falls out once again, you smile and look around just like you had yesterday. There weren’t many people in the halls, there was a group of Pogues that everyone knew very well. Then there was some other stragglers of students walking the halls. You lean down and take the note between your fingers

‘Your art is really amazing, You’re so talented. I would love to hear about it sometime.

ps: this isnt a joke :)’

The smile on your face widens at the words written on the white paper. Not many people knew you loved art, the only people who knew was your friend Paige and your mother, although she hated it. Even with a smile on her face her eyebrows furrow, who would know you liked to do art, whoever it was paid attention to you. The secret admirer also had to have heard your conversation with Paige the day prior if they had felt the need to add the fact that the whole thing wasn’t a joke like you said. With a wide smile you put the note into your pocket and walk towards the art room.

Your secret admirer was across the hall, watching you as you react to the note he made for you last night. This reaction was different than the last, last time you were confused, happy, guarded. This time you were open, happy, and excited. Since the moment you walked through the doors of the school and went towards your locker he dissociated from his conversation with his friends and put all of his attention on you who was across the hall while pretending to pay attention to his friends. He watches you walk off to the art room with a proud smile on his face.

When you walk into the art room and go straight towards your most recent work that had been sitting out to dry. When you get to it you notice a bag of gummy bears with a note attached “i know you love them - secret boy” but when you pick up the bag you notice its full of only the red ones, your favorite. A laugh bubbles through you, whoever this is really paid attention to you and spent money on you which was meaningful when it was a Pogue who didn’t have much money to spend. You put the sweets in your bag and continue on with your day.

Throughout the day, just like yesterday you couldn’t stop thinking about him. In every class you looked around, looked at every guy and wondered if it was them. It was your last class of the day and you were once again not paying attention to the lesson but instead thinking about your letters and who it could be. Taking a drink of your water and look around the room just as you did the other classes.

As you scan around the room your eyes meet with another’s. The pair of eyes you lock with are a beautiful blue and those eyes belong to none other than JJ Maybank. The blonde boy was a well known name in the Outer Banks, he and his friends causing trouble, news about his deadbeat dad, his own trouble, or girls talking about their hookups with him.

When the two of you made eye contact with each other you raise the corners of your mouth a give him a smile. In that moment JJ could have sworn he had a mini heart attack. He didn’t know if you smiled at him because you knew it was him, or if you were interested in him, or if it was simply just an innocent or awkward gesture. Snapping out of his thoughts he gives you a smile back in return, once the two of you exchange smiles you turn back forward to face the front of the class.

Little did you know the boy you had just interacted with was currently in his seat, trying to calm down his heart and not over analyze the situation that probably meant nothing.

a/n: this took me so long to write for some reason also I hope Taylor announces something at the Grammys tn😫🙏🏼

[sour-ggrapess]

S-U-G-A✰ Yoongi shows how and where the magic happens up in his lab

✰ smut ✰

please repost and comment if you enjoyed it

pairing: idol. yoongi x f. idol. reader

word count: ~ 1.24k

tags/warnings: smut; oral sex, semi-public sex, mentions of getting caught, yoongi puts your moans in his song, exhibitionist, squirting, no penetrative sex, praise kink, studio sex, soft dom yoongi, power bottom reader, spanking

Being an idol and dating somebody is hard it's even more troublesome when 2 idols date particularly when one hasn't debuted yet. You were pretty well-known around Hybe and on social media, people were waiting on your group debut just because everyone fell in love with your vocals and visuals. You were taught by the best; momo, Lisa, Jimin, and even Suga of BTS.

Noticing him pass by a lot. you invited him to come give you a small dance lesson and one thing lead to another and all you recall is a moist floor and murky mirrors. Heat entangled in the atmosphere along with unholiness. 

You and he went strong for those 10 months and currently you're a well-known idol, you want you and yoongi to be real. more 'lessons' and long conversations with him. He was what you could only call a flawless boyfriend, only when you did see each other. Staff couldn't find out about it or your members 

"Yoongi. Can we talk?" You questioned him as you tugged him into his studio and locked the door after you. "Speak to me, baby" He voiced as his hands wrapped around your waistline and drew you over to his open legs. "I want us to be official, not public but I want titles and I want my friends and family to know about us." His eyes widened and his lips parted. "I mean do you even look at me as a girlfriend?"

If he was being truthful he loved you but didn't know if you felt the same.

"Baby I felt the same but I know you're young and I didn't know if you wanted to be" He started to blab. "Min yoongi"

"Yes, baby?" "Kiss me," you said as you gripped his face and looked into his dim stunning eyes. His lips merged with yours as his head cocked to the side to let his tongue crash with yours. Moans abrupt from you spoiling the kiss, yoongi hits and grasps your ass

"How about we go public and official, hmm?" He asked before his lips sucked a dark bruise on your sweet spot making your mind turn mushy and smooth. "Mhmm" was all you could call out, just yessing him without comprehending his words.

Yoongi's cold, large ring filled fingers slither up your back to your waist area. Gripping at your pale pink lacey shirt causing it to slide up and pool around your bra. Flipping you around with him now in between your legs, he dropped down to his knees. Wetness trailing your thighs as his tongue leaves soft licks over the plush of the inside of your flesh. "take these off for me, princess" He groaned in between kisses, You raised your ass off the table and slid the shorts down along with your ruined panties.

Leaking hole fluttering as you felt his warm breath fan over your sopping heat, shivers rolled off your spine down to your legs making you shake.

Out of all those times you and him had sex he never ate you out. He even told you about how good his head game is and how he doesn't lie in songs. "Let me take you to Hong Kong, princess" He said with a smirk on his lips right before he dove his lips onto your wet and soft clit. "Bend over this table for me baby". Ass and cunt now full display for him as pre-cum drips out your hole, What you failed to notice was how your mouth was almost in the mic and his computer monitor capturing all your sound's RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE! 2 OF THEM!!

He propped himself under your dripping cunt, His soft plush lips wrapped around your sensitive bundle of nerves. The strong suction of his mouth caused your hands to grip the chair in front of you like it was about to fall to its death off a 20 story building. Your legs closing in on his head as loud lewd moans escaped your mouth, his tongue licked and slurped from your clenching hole back up to your clit that he would flick every time he came in contact with it. "My little princess looks so good getting her cunt slurped up" He praised before he stuck his tongue straight into your desperate clenching hole.

" Fucking eat it" you gasped out as you shoved his head down making his tongue go deeper in your shaking cunt. You felt your juices leaking all in his mouth as he curled his tongue and let out a loud groan in your pussy. "My princess loves the way i eat her cunt doesn't she?" He growled as he took up for air, "Yes suga, love it so fucking much". He made you call him suga during sex because he loved the way you said it, so fucking cute." His hand slapped your ass and his tongue slapped your clit making you grab at his scalp harder. Yoongi's soft groans sent vibrations up your pussy adding fuel to the fire burning the knot deep in your tummy.

You moan scream loudly knowing the fact this room is soundproof, the thought of you overpowering the padding on the walls and some one bursting in the room makes your legs shake and your knees buckle. "Im gonna- fucking cum suga- aughh- Please suga!" loud slurping and sploshing sound filled the room.

His tongue enters your hole again as he grips your hips and fucks you down on it. the knot undone as you pull at his dark strands and yell out his name. His soft tongue coated in white and his whole face soaking wet from the crazy orgasm you just had.

----──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────-----

"Come 'mere baby and hear this". he grabbed your waist and pulled you in between his legs, he placed his headphones on your ears.

"Yea, you know my tongue work, i just sent my bitch on a flight to Hong Kong". You listened to his words but the volume suddenly got a bit higher making you hear every damn sound in the beat, Then it hit you like a bus when you heard it. "Yes suga, love it so fucking much" "OMG!?" you yelled out at him as his little evil laughed bubbled from his throat.

----──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────-----

✉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ minsugy- Omg y/n unnie it sounded like you in the new augstd song"

"Wha? Thats funny, ive never met him but I have to hear the song" you laughed acting as if you didn't the man.

✉! .•°⟡˚ ༘ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ! ᶠʳᵒᵐ nayeonie. YOU FUCKED SUGA???!!!

NO??!!

DONT LIE TO ME Y/N DISPATCH IS ON YOUR ASS

⊹˚. ♡taglist - @chimmy-licious @shescharlie @bangtanattic

[kook-net]

[whorewriter-lol]

Everybody talks I JJ Maybank

Y/n l/n, kook royalty. Sarah Cameron's best friend and a total princess. She had always had a disdain for pogues, but there was one boy in particular who always seemed to get under her skin, JJ Maybank. Which is exactly why she was not pleased when Sarah had showed up at her house to drag her off to the boneyard for a kegger. 

“Sarah, do we seriously have to go to this thing?” I sighed as I touched up my makeup.

“Obviously? Why wouldn’t we show up?” Sarah smiled, crossing her arms.

“Because, you know exactly who’s going to be there and you know exactly what’s going to happen” I turned to Sarah, leaning back against her bathroom counter. I watched as Sarah rolled her eyes.

“So? He does that to any girl in a hundred miles..Ready to go?” Sarah asked.

I rolled my eyes, groaning “You’re so lucky I love you.”

As we walked onto the beach, the sun was already setting. Sarah, the usual social butterfly immediately darted off. She dragged me off towards the opened kegs at the center of the circle of teenagers. Then, I groaned when I heard the voice of a familiar blonde boy “Hey y/l/n! I was wondering when you’d show up” turning my head to meet the boy's eyes, I crossed my arms.

“JJ” I deadpanned.

“What? You ain’t happy to see me?” JJ’s tone was sarcastic, almost condescending.

I shook my head and corrected him, “Ain’t isn’t a word, and you’re not worth my time.”

“And yet, you still stopped to talk to me.” that stupid, crooked smirk crossed his lips, god I wanted to wipe that look off of his face. I opened my mouth to object, but was cut off by Sarah calling my name, shooting JJ one last glare before disappearing into the crowd.

John B’s arm swung around his friends shoulder “give it up man, she hates you more than anyone else on this island”

“Yeah, and that’s like- a lot of people” Pope nodded his head, speaking in his usual matter of fact tone.

“She doesn’t hate me, she just hasn’t realized it yet” JJ gave his friends a determined grin. Pope sighed and patted JJs shoulder.

“Keep dreaming” He shook his head.

“He was so condescending! God, I just want to punch him right in his stupid, pogue face!” I shouted, complaining to Sarah and a group of girls from our school. Sarah and the other girls giggled at my outlandish and dramatic reenactment of the encounter.

“I think he’s kind of cute,” one girl said in a low tone. My  head snapped to look at the girl.

“Cute? You think JJ Maybank is cute?” my eyes widened and I crossed my arms. Of course, I couldn’t disagree, I definitely couldn't deny JJ was handsome but I would rather choke myself out with a fisher's net-line than ever admit something like that. “Good! Take him off of my hands!” I laughed, flailing her arms around wildly.

“Take who off your hands, cupcake?” I could practically hear the smirk on JJ’s lips. 

“Will you ever leave me alone? You might as well be stalking me.” I turned around, my eye’s narrowing and my mood ruined. JJ’s arms raised in a surrendering motion.

“Woah woah, hey slow down I just came to offer you a drink” He shoved his hand out towards me, offering the solo cup.

My whole face crinkled into a grimace, physically recoiling as though the drink was toxic waste. I spoke in a disgusted tone, looking from the cup to JJ “Are you serious? Why in hell would I ever take a drink from you?” 

JJ paused, seeming to think for a moment “Well, why not? C’mon, let loose” He smirked. JJ took a few steps closer so that now we were only inches apart “or are you too good for it?” 

My face crinkled up and I licked my teeth, I shrugged before smacking the cup out of the boys hand “Fuck off, pogue” I sneered at him.

Something dangerous flashed across JJ’s face for a split second, I couldn’t quite tell if it was directed at me though “alright.” he nodded and put his hands up in a dramatic show of surrender “I’ll go fuck myself, listen i was just tryin’ to be nice alright” thats when I realized.

“Oh Jesus Christ! Kiara!” I barked, waving a hand out to her “come get your boy! He’s drunk!”

Kiara’s head turned and she rolled her eyes before stomping over “Jayj, come on let's go” her arm wrapped around him, pulling him backwards as he smirked.

“See ya later, Y/l/n” He winked and as they faded into the crowd of teenagers I heard Kiara’s mumbled words.

“Bitches.”

Sarah and Topper dropped me off back at home around eleven that night. I sighed and opened the door, seeing my dad up in the kitchen. I rolled my eyes.

“Hey sweetheart, have a good time?” He turned his head with a tired smile on his face.

“Yeah, it was fine” I shook my head and quickly rushed up the steps “Night.”

In my room, I flicked on my light before going into my bathroom and undoing my hair before tying it up. I slipped on my headband and started to remove my makeup and wash my face. As I stood facing the mirror, my phone buzzed on the counter.

JJ Maybank wants to send you a message

Great. I sighed and picked up my phone, my finger hovered over the notification before I shook my head and put my phone down “I’m not entertaining his bullshit” I mumbled to myself before setting my phone down and finishing my nighttime routine. I dimmed my light before climbing into bed, scrolling on Instagram for a while before going to sleep. 

I was woken up about an hour later to a phone call from Sarah, groaning and sitting up I picked up the phone “Sarah, what the fu-” 

I was cut off by her yelling “JJ pulled a fucking gun on Topper!”

What. The. Fuck!?

[rafeobx]

knew you were trouble

plot: the pogues decide to throw a keggar to draw attention away from them after discovering a wreck in the marsh and isobel runs into the one person she was dreading to see.

warnings: talk about drugs/alcohol

note: this is the second chap to the burning red series! if you have not yet read chap one, i recommend it so you can understand the plot. hope you enjoy xx

---

THE OUTER BANKS WAS as alive as ever, with the sun hanging high and the salty breeze sweeping through the streets.

the pogues and i geared up for our keggar, a chaotic flurry of grabbing anything that might vaguely contribute to a decent party. red solo cups stacked precariously high, a few extra warm twelve-packs pilfered from god-knows-where, the dented keg smelling faintly of stale beer from its last adventure, and jj wrestling with the stubborn keg coupler like it was a particularly aggressive kraken. finally, a semblance of order achieved, we piled into the twinkie, the van groaning in protest at the added weight, and rattled our way towards the Boneyard.

you couldn't understand the outer banks without understanding the boneyard. it wasn't just a stretch of sand where old boats went to die; it was a social ecosystem, a kind of three-layer burrito of human misery and occasional drunken joy. first, there was us, and our kind – the working-class derelicts, the salty dogs and sun-baked dreamers who actually called the cut home. the pogues. then, hovering above us in their air-conditioned mansions and gleaming yachts, were the kooks. mostly trust fund babies fresh out of some poncey-ass boarding school, all designer labels and vacant stares, rich trustafarian posers who treated the obx like their personal playground. our natural enemies, locked in a perpetual, low-grade war of stolen waves and muttered insults. 

and then, bringing up the oblivious bottom layer, were the tourons. as we pulled up to the familiar bonfire pit, a gaggle of them, sunburned and bewildered, wandered past, clutching oversized souvenir cups. "want a beer?" john b mocked under his breath, mimicking their wide-eyed wonder. the tourons were totally clueless, fresh meat. here for a week on vacation with their families, snapping photos of seagulls and complaining about the humidity. chum for the sharks.

the keg was tapped with a satisfying hiss, and the boneyard quickly devolved into its usual beautiful chaos. jj, fueled by cheap beer and an insatiable need for attention, was already attempting to surf on a discarded piece of driftwood, much to pope's muttered disapproval and kiara's exasperated sighs. john b, ever the charmer, had latched onto a group of wide-eyed tourons, his practiced grin and fabricated tales of local legend seemingly working their magic on a blonde girl. pope, true to form, was hovering awkwardly near the bonfire, clutching his red solo cup like a lifeline and occasionally offering hesitant, fact-based commentary that sailed right over everyone's inebriated heads. kiara, her voice animated, was deep in conversation with a guy I didn't recognize – definitely not a usual pogue face. she was gesturing with her hands, her brow furrowed in that intense way she got when she was explaining something she was passionate about. "virgos are, like, so organized" i heard her say, her tone conspiratorial. "like, all my friends that are virgos are like all about the details, the practicality, the need for order." the poor guy, who looked slightly overwhelmed by her astrological fervor, just nodded slowly, taking a cautious sip of his beer. 

and me? i found myself gravitating towards the familiar face amidst the throng of unfamiliar ones. james. he leaned against a weathered fishing net strung between two driftwood logs, the bonfire light catching the warm brown of his eyes. we worked the same dreaded shift at the country club, navigating the endless demands and casual disdain of the kooks. over the past few weeks, stolen moments between serving overpriced cocktails and clearing half-eaten shrimp platters had blossomed into something... more. and yeah, there was no denying it, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead and the easy curve of his smile definitely didn't hurt. 

kiara walked up to me while i was mid-conversation with james, her usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a tight-lipped frown. her gaze was fixed on something across the bonfire, and a distinct note of disgust laced her voice. "what is she doing here?" my eyebrows furrowed in confusion as i turned to see who had elicited such a strong reaction. sarah cameron. kook royalty, practically. beautiful, blonde, and dripping in privilege. she also happened to be topper's girlfriend and, more significantly, rafe's sister. a complicated history simmered beneath kiara's disdain. apparently, they'd been inseparable best friends back in ninth grade, only for some dramatic kook betrayal to turn them into bitter enemies by tenth. and then there was topper, sarah's equally privileged and decidedly unpleasant boyfriend. the kind of guy who genuinely seemed to believe pogues were put on this earth solely to mow the lawns of figure eight estates. kiara rolled her eyes, annoyed, walking back to whatever she had been doing before. 

i continued to speak with james, laughing and talking, however, that familiar prickling sensation returned, like a pair of eyes were physically boring into the back of my skull. it was the same unnerving feeling i'd had all evening at the club. i subtly turned, my gaze sweeping across the bonfire-lit faces, and it didn't surprise me in the slightest to find him. rafe stood slightly apart from the main group, leaning against a weathered truck tire, his jaw tight, the earlier disheveled look replaced with a chillingly composed demeanor. but the way he was staring, his gaze flicking back and forth between james and me with an intensity that made my stomach twist into an unfamiliar knot, sent a shiver down my spine. it wasn't anger, not exactly. it was something possessive, territorial, and it set my teeth on edge. curiosity, that persistent, often troublesome companion, got the better of me once again. "hey james? i'll be right back, i have to um," my mind blanked, suddenly devoid of any plausible excuse, "use the bathroom." 

the lie felt flimsy even to my own ears, but i needed to know what rafe's deal was. this possessive staring was creeping me out but the thought of confronting rafe directly, especially with jj standing just a few feet away, practically radiating protective older brother vibes, was a non-starter. jj would absolutely kill me if he ever caught me within ten feet of rafe cameron, let alone engaging in a conversation. their rivalry was legendary, a petty, ongoing feud that almost everyone on the island knew about. for rafe, it seemed to be rooted purely in a visceral dislike for anyone who wasn't part of his privileged inner circle. for jj, it was a potent cocktail of resentment at rafe's silver-spoon upbringing – the endless opportunities, the effortless access to everything we had to fight tooth and nail for – and a genuine, deep-seated loathing for the entitled prick himself. we got nothing, had to scrap for every damn thing, while rafe just had it all handed to him on a platinum platter. no way was i about to give jj another reason to go nuclear. 

instead, i made a point of catching rafe's eye as i subtly veered away from the bonfire's glow, moving towards the shadowy edges of the boneyard and i didn't need to turn around to know he was trailing behind me. once we were as far from the music and laughter as we could possibly get, shrouded in the darkness beneath the skeletal ribs of a decaying fishing trawler, i finally stopped and turned, the sudden movement causing me to collide squarely with his chest. the impact knocked the breath from my lungs, the unexpected closeness sending a strange jolt through me despite my apprehension. 

a heavy silence hung between us, the distant sounds of the kegger a muffled hum in the background. neither of us pulled away, the unexpected closeness a strange, magnetic force. i knew i should break the contact, step back into the cool night air and put some much-needed distance between us, but for whatever reason, my feet felt rooted to the spot. his hands, initially a bracing hold against the unexpected collision, slowly trailed down my sides, his touch sending a faint warmth through the thin fabric of my shirt, finally settling on my hips. my eyes flickered involuntarily from the intense gaze locked on mine to the curve of his lips and back up again, a nervous flutter in my chest. i desperately hoped he hadn't caught the betraying glance, but a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face, and i knew he had. he always did.

"what do you want, rafe?" i asked, clearing my throat, my voice barely a whisper above the crashing waves as i forced my self away from him. he just continued to stare at me, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light. "you know why i'm here, isobel." his voice was low, a husky rumble that sent another shiver down my spine and his speech slurred.

my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. he wasn't just drunk, there was a jittery energy about him, a wildness in his eyes that screamed something else entirely. high. the realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the strange pull i'd felt vanished, replaced by a cold, stark fear that seeped into my bones. his slurred speech, the unfocused intensity of his gaze, the way his hands twitched slightly – it all mirrored a ghost from my past, a ghost i'd fought so hard to keep buried. my father. the memory of his unpredictable moods, the sharp edges that emerged when he was high, sent a wave of nausea rolling through me. the intoxicating danger i'd momentarily felt was gone, replaced by a primal urge to escape.

"rafe," i hesitated, my voice cracking, the sound swallowed by the roar of the ocean. "what are you talking about?" i knew ignoring the feeling in my gut was a stupid idea, a flashing red warning sign i should heed immediately. but a strange paralysis had taken hold, a terrifying blend of morbid curiosity and a desperate hope that i was misreading the situation, that the wildness in his eyes was just too much beer and not... whatever this was.

he took another unsteady step closer, the scent of salt and something sharper, something chemical, clinging to him. "you know," he slurred, his gaze intense and unfocused all at once."it's different with you," he murmured, taking another small step closer. "you're not like your brother or the others. there's this...pull ." he reached out a hand, his fingers brushing against my arm, the touch sending a jolt of revulsion through me. it wasn't the casual brush of someone flirting; it felt possessive.

i flinched away, pulling my arm back as if burned. "no, rafe. there isn't." the lie felt weak, pathetic even to my own ears, because a small, treacherous part of me had, at times, felt that dangerous pull he exuded. but that was before. before the haze in his eyes, before the echo of my father's unpredictable rage filled the space between us. just as rafe was about to respond, a sudden roar erupted from the direction of the kegger, the sound raw and violent enough to cut through the rhythmic crashing of the waves. shouts and panicked yells followed, the festive atmosphere instantly shattered. my head snapped towards the commotion, and through the flickering bonfire light, a horrifying scene unfolded. topper, his face contorted in rage, had john b pinned down near the water's edge, pushing his head relentlessly beneath the churning surface. john b was struggling, his arms flailing weakly against topper's brutal force. he was drowning john b.

my breath hitched in my throat, a primal fear for john b overriding the unsettling encounter with rafe. for a split second, my gaze flickered back to rafe, a silent, almost subconscious weighing of two urgent threats. then, without another thought, adrenaline coursing through my veins, i abandoned the strange, dangerous pull of the kook and sprinted towards the chaos. i threw myself into the fray, grabbing at topper's arm, trying desperately to pry his suffocating grip from john b's head. just as i managed to get a precarious hold, a glint of cold steel flashed in the firelight, and jj's furious voice sliced through the chaos. 

"yeah, you know what that is," jj's voice seethed, the metal click of the gun echoing in the sudden hush that had fallen over the boneyard. "your move, broski." my eyes widened, the raw, unhinged fury in jj's face sending a jolt of fear through me. slowly, carefully, i backed away from the struggling figures of topper and john b, putting precious distance between myself and the potential violence. "jj!" sarah cameron, topper's girlfriend and rafe's sister, yelled, her voice a desperate plea cutting through the tense silence. 

"did you say somethin', princess?" jj mocked, his voice still tight with adrenaline as he kept the gun trained on topper. i rushed over to my brother, my hand outstretched, palm up. "jj, put the gun down." his eyes, wild and furious just moments before, flickered to mine. i gave him a look, a silent plea that conveyed the gravity of the situation, the potential consequences of his actions. he hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and the still-struggling topper, as if he was genuinely contemplating whether or not to pull the trigger.

"kie! can you check your psycho friend, please?" sarah yelled, her voice shrill with fear and anger as she tried to pull jj away from topper.

i turned on her, my own anger flaring. "how about you check your psycho boyfriend first? he's the one trying to drown john b." the words spat out of me, the injustice of the situation fueling my own protective instincts. i had nothing against sarah, not really. she was just caught in the middle of all this kook-pogue bullshit, same as always. but the irony of her calling jj a psycho when her boyfriend had literally been trying to drown john b two minutes ago wasn't lost on me. it was the classic kook move – deflect, blame the pogue, ignore their own shitty behavior. it made my blood boil.

jj pushed topper hard, sending him sprawling back onto the wet sand, finally releasing the pressure on john b's neck. "okay, everyone, listen up!" i watched in horror as he raised the gun, the moonlight glinting off the cold metal, pointing it directly towards the inky black sky. a deafening crack echoed across the boneyard as he pulled the trigger. "get the hell off our side of the island!" he roared, the sound laced with a dangerous mix of adrenaline and fury.

"are you crazy?" i shoved him hard in the chest, my own fear and anger boiling over. "you idiot!"

"god, jj, you're so stupid! you're gonna jeopardize everything" kiara and pope yelled, their voices tight with frustration and the terrifying realization of just how close they'd come to serious trouble. 

we all rushed out of the boneyard, a chaotic scramble to avoid the inevitable arrival of the police sirens we could already hear faintly in the distance. john b was still gasping for air, his chest heaving from topper's idiotic, near-fatal move. jj, ever the getaway driver, wrestled the twinkie's stubborn ignition, and we rattled away from the scene, leaving the remnants of the kegger and the lingering tension behind. but as the familiar, bumpy ride back to the chateau lulled the immediate panic, my mind drifted, unbidden, back to rafe. and his words, hanging in the salty air: you're not like your brother or the others.

what did he even mean by that? and why, god why, did i suddenly care? a frustrated sigh escaped my lips. i hated that his face, the intensity of his gaze, the unsettling pull i'd briefly felt, was all i could think about right now. i hated the way what he said made my stomach do stupid, embarrassing somersaults, like i was some lovesick idiot. i hated it. i hated him. the rich, entitled kook who somehow managed to occupy so much unwanted space in my head and i had absolutely no idea why. it was infuriating. he was everything i loathed, everything we stood against, yet his words, his attention, had burrowed under my skin like a damn tick.

[not-goldy]

I ain't gonna lie. For the first time I been thinking about Jikook locked away isolated together in the middle of nowhere all day every day serving and now seeing how they can't stop bickering. I really hope they haven't gotten in there and started cause it's way stressful in there, then it is in a cozy camper in the peaceful woods, that had them bickering in 5 minutes of arriving. I been thinking about that all day. I also was thinking about JK saying he wants to do this after military for years with Jimin and I am really hoping Military doesn't break that plan and hinder it in any way when they come out. I hope they come out the same. They'll be different, but I hope also the same. I am also hoping that pent up tension they had, was completely out of their system before they enlisted. Like got everything off their chest. I mean as soon as they got a break, they just kinda went their separate ways tho riding with other people. Not saying that's bad or anything since they were going back home together, but dang, they really push the hell out of each other's buttons for attention. They been doing this for years and know their dynamic better than we do tho and for all we know this is how they've always been in private, but what we were seeing of them in OT7 was more contained, edited and watered down and subdued because of the Hyungs around them keeping them in check. No wonder RM was ready to fight the staff for putting him with Jikook. For the first time, I get it RM, I feel you man. I feel for all their Hyungs, cause they're both totally unhinged and wild as hell. lol Gotta love them.

Bickering? Sorry I'm not gonna read that.

When Yoonmin "bicker" its cute cos they giving old married couples vibe

When Kook rough handles Jin its a match made in heaven. When he stresses Namjoon out its a boy crush.

But when Jikook "bicker and rough house" it's weird and unheard of right?? Even though they are literally the same person's in those other dynamics.

We been here before several times and yall are starting to get on my nerves yall remember when jimin and Kook were drunk playing soccer or football and he shoved Jimin so hard I nearly passed out seeing that??

Or when Jimin injured his leg after breaking Jungkook's mosquito net and falling as he was being chased off by Jungkook???

This is them. They not doing nothing we haven't seen or heard them do before.

Jimin asks him to carry a heavy table and he goes carry it Jimimshi you're strong you got this.

I don't think they both would do this or want to do this if they felt they had to be anything BUT THEMSELVES.

If their interaction makes you uncomfortable to watch perhaps it should be a sign to you that you've over romanticed them.

Of course this is THEM like what ain't you understanding 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

THIS IS JIKOOK TOOOOO AH

Remember when we talked about what we expected from the show and yall asked me and I said I want to know what Jikook's idea of entertainment is????

This is them curating a show for you - a show they think showcases their dynamic sells their chemistry and is entertaining- so to hear you say all this as if they were sneak filmed and unaware of their environment or how they coming across to people watching them is difficult to read through.

Like I said they owe us nothing and this is nothing they themselves haven't said to us that they do behind cams. It's just the cameras don't follow them well into those private lives you talk about even though they wish they could follow them and capture that moment.

You are the same people who would have gone feral if Jimin eating out Jungkook's neck was caught on camera but imagine how annoying it would be if JK solos also came on here complaining that was abusive and bullying for him biting Kooks neck like that.

Yall are becoming insufferable stop.

Jimin done told us all about Jungkook whooping him spanking him scolding him manhandling him remember when he said JK whoops him and JK said don't say stuff like that....

However you feel about this part of their dynamic it seems they both enjoy it.

And hybe pays attention to the metrics it saw how engaged sparked each time they shared those glimpses into their private life each time we discussed it raved over it and they know it's something we like to see.

Stop making this something it's not cos yall sounding like delulu solos at this point like what really did you think was going to happen?? Tell me your ridiculous expectations of two closeted queer men and I'll tell you just how delusional you are.

People call them a bunch of smoking vaping alcoholics who chase women up and down the clubs like they collecting Pokémons

If they not gonna show them smoking vaping getting drunk to a stupor chasing and hitting on boys and girls fucking random strangers down the street talking shit bout army and all the people they keeping it on their chest for- what the fuck makes you think they will out themselves like that on their show???

Yall keep reading negative meanings into their relationship and interactions and yet they keep telling and showing yall they want to be together, they enjoy eachother's company and want to do the things yall thing they hate or that is hurting one of them.

Jimin is not afraid to establish boundaries or cut toxic people off and out of his life. If he felt JK was one he knows what to do. He is one to call JK out for not returning texts and calls, for not wishing members a happy birthday for speaking rudely to members for going out to club during Pandemic.

Yes he's manhandling Jimin and yet Jimin will chose to go to the moon to the desert to military

Certain parts of their "private lives" have been censored and will always be censored

Military won't change their plans cos how else would they explain their relationship if not through content

Like yall get that they coming up with these shows to justify why they gotta be together right????

Like yall get that if it's not because they "work" together they SHOULDN'T BE AROUND EACH OTHER ALL THE TIME RIGHT????

THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE LIVING SINGLE LIVES INDEPENDENT LIVES IN SEPERATE HOMES DOING SEPERATE THINGS BECAUSE FOR ALL INTENT AND PURPOSES THEY ARE STRAIGHT

At least to the public eye.

THATS WHAT PEOPLE WHO AREN'T GAY IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH EACHOTHER ARE SUPPOSED TO DO.

AND BELIEVE IT OR NOT THATS WHAT THEY WANT YOU, THE MEDIA AND THE GOVERNMENT TO BELIEVE🙂

UNTILL THEY ARE OUT THEY WILL ALWAYS GIVE PERFORMATIVE HETERSEXUALITY

AND UNTILL ONE OF THEM TRANSITIONS AS A TRANS WOMAN THEY WILL ALWAYS ACT LIKE THE BOYS THAT THEY ARE

[jokeroutsubs]

📝[ENG Translation] Joker Out exclusively for Style.

Before their performance at Sziget, Joker Out spoke exclusively to Style.Over.Net about what this means to them and when we can expect new music.

Article written by Meta Vrazic, published on 22.08.2024 on the Style.Over. Net website.

Translation by @kurooscoffee, review by a member of JokerOutSubs, proofread by @flowerlotus8

What do Tom Odell, Sam Smith, Bebe Rexha, and Kylie Minogue have in common?

All of these music giants shared the stage last week with the Slovenian band Joker Out at one of the biggest European festivals, Sziget.

Before their performance, they spoke exclusively to Style.Over.Net about what this means to them and when we can expect new music.

Photo: Vita Orehek

You're performing at Sziget, which means you're sharing the stage with some of the biggest names in the music industry. What does this mean for you?

Bojan: For us, this is a dream come true. Today (editor's note: on the day of the concert), we'll reach or even surpass our hidden hopes and dreams that every band starting out at 15 years old has.

Kris: I'd like to add that, in my opinion, it doesn't matter that much who is on stage before or after me. I focus more on which other performers have played on this stage at this time. In 2018, I listened to one of my favourite bands, The Kooks, at this exact time at Sziget. Lewis Capaldi also had his first performance at this time, and yesterday, Tom Odell got this slot. To me, it's an incredible achievement that we can compare ourselves with such names, especially in our region.

So you would equate yourselves with these artists? Do you see yourselves as equals?

Bojan: Yes, we're on par with Lewis Capaldi (laughs). No, we don't see ourselves as equals, but I would emphasise that this festival has 60 stages and over a thousand performers. So, being on the main stage at such a time is quite an amazing feeling.

Photo: Vita Orehek

In a recent interview, you mentioned differences between Slovenian and European stages. So, I have to ask – do you have a shower here?

Jure: Yes, I saw a shower. We'll definitely shower after the show since we're heading straight into a van and back to the studio.

So, you won't have a chance to walk around Sziget? When did you even arrive?

Jure: We left Hamburg at 7 AM, arrived at 11 AM, had a coffee, did a soundcheck, now we're talking to the media, then it's the concert, and back. It's pretty packed.

Photo: Vita Orehek

You've already performed for various audiences in many countries. Which audience is more demanding, Slovenian or international?

Bojan: Slovenian, for sure, because it's our home crowd. Other artists we've talked to also say that the home audience is always more demanding.

In Slovenia, we're omnipresent, both musically and in the media, so there are certain expectations. Some might even come to our shows hoping our performace would suck, so they can justify not liking us. Meanwhile, in other countries, they don't understand what we're saying, so they come just to let loose, dance, and have a good time.

International audiences sing incredibly well. If you closed your eyes during the concert and just listened, you'd think you were in Slovenia.

Kris: I'd add that someone willing to listen to music in another language is by default more open-minded and less demanding.

What's tougher: Sziget or Eurovision?

Jure: Eurovision, because we had no experience, and the pressure was much greater. We prepared for it for six months, whereas for a concert, you have a day or maybe even just a few hours.

Bojan: At Eurovision, it doesn't matter how good you are or what kind of performance you have. If you mess up in those three minutes, you're done. There are so many people there who don't care about your story or how precise you are—if you make a mistake, it's over. Whereas at a concert, you're there to have fun, and even mistakes are welcome as they make the experience more enjoyable.

Photo: Vita Orehek

How do you prepare for concerts? Do you have any special rituals?

Bojan: Not really. About 30 minutes before the concert, we completely calm down, practice a little, and then we all shout our motto together.

We've all heard stories about stars with very specific backstage food and drink requests. Do you have any special requests? What must be there for you?

Jure: Ginger shots, sour candies, vitamin water, towels...

Bojan: A mirror! It sounds bizarre, but there's often no mirror backstage, and before you go on stage, you can't check that everything's in place. So now we've specifically added a mirror to our list.

Is there even any stage fright still present before the concerts?

All: Yes, definitely.

Kris: Sometimes it happens about 20 minutes before the performance, depending on the day you're having.

Photo: Vita Orehek

And who's the most nervous?

Jure: Lately, it's been Bojan.

You now have songs in three different languages. What does this mean for your target audience? What is your target audience like, actually?

Bojan: We aim to have a good time. To play and enjoy ourselves, this music comes from us – and we haven't changed much during this time. Of course, we always try to find something new and different, depending on where the wind takes us.

I mainly think that you don't need to take this too seriously. If everyone checks their playlist and looks at the music they listen to, it's probably not all the same and monotonous. Why shouldn't it be the same for performers?

Have you ever felt that you aren't taken seriously because of the “boyband” label?

Bojan: We get this most often precisely in Slovenia. When we did interviews abroad, serious journalists approached us with a great deal of respect. They often even came to our concerts before the interview and expressed their enthusiasm and respect—you can feel that they take you seriously. Still, this doesn't bother us in Slovenia either, because, in reality, we are a “boyband.”

Photo: Vita Orehek

Do you ever get tired of any of your songs?

Kris: I always enjoy all our songs, but during a one-month tour in Europe, we involved the audience during the song 'Umazane misli'. And sometimes, while waiting for the audience, it drags on and gets a bit boring.

Bojan: Well, I had a great time even during those moments.

Of course, we need to check in on how the new album is coming along. When will it see the light of day?

Bojan: The album is expected to be “on time,” and you can expect it at the end of October. So far, things are moving well; we occasionally hit a “bump” that throws us off rhythm, but we're satisfied. We're doing well and holding up great.