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zyafics · 3 months

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i love love love your writing<3

rq: rafe had came up to tanneyhill's balcony for some peace at his own party. though he didn’t expect reader to be there, looking utterly lost. he knows reader is new. seen you before, too, hanging out with sarah’s crowd; under a pogue’s arm whenever they see him around, telling you rafe isn't anything worth talking, or interacting with.

first off, i am so sorry it took me so long to get this done (as with a lot of my requests) but thank you so much for enjoying my writing!! 🩷 i hope i do this prompt justice (literally shaking in my boots as i post this 😭)

ANGRY GOD | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (oneshot/mini series) | x Female Reader

Content — fluff, angst, Rafe spiraling (S2 Canons), Enemies Tension, Rafe growing possessive of Reader. Word Count — 3.2K.

Dedication — to @mintforadollar who listened to me rant about this plot a month ago, only for it to now be completed <3. Prompt credited to this on c.ai!

lıllılı Champagne Coast by Blood Orange

Rafe wants to be alone.

His mind is caught in a tailspin, muscles singing with ache from his latest altercation. It didn't help that the fucker managed to get some good swings in, ripples of pain spread from his jawline to his left eye. When he enters the second floor of Tannyhill, all he wants is to catch a breath of fresh air away from the party. His party.

He didn't expect to see you.

"Out." Rafe commands gruffly. You flinch at his abrupt command. "Second floor is off-limits."

He adds nothing else as he marches over to the edge of the balcony, digging his scraped palms into the smooth ridges of the handrails. He didn't want anyone here to witness the brunt of his frustration and disappointment, or how his mind swims with disoriented and incoherent thoughts. He wants to be alone.

But you won't let him.

Cautiously, you take a step forward—not in the direction of the exit, as he hoped—but towards Rafe instead. Lifting his head at the sound of your faint footsteps, agitation flushing through his expression at your proximity. "Didn't I tell you to get out?"

"You got into a fight." You mumble your observation, examining his hardened profile to discover the bruise that decorates his jawline, swelling with discoloration, the darkening under his left eye, and the split of open skin right above his brow.

He scoffs. "No shit."

"And you're bleeding."

He is? He didn't know that. All consumed by the adrenaline rushing through his system—that has yet to wind down—Rafe lifts his hand to run his fingers over the most prominent aches around his face. When he presses against something wet, he withdraws, finding a fresh coat of blood over his fingertips.

Rafe grimaces at the sight—not the blood, he's used to that—but the fact that his opponent succeeded in cutting him too.

Now, he definitely doesn't want you here. Before Rafe has the chance to kick you out the third time, you offer assistance. "I can help," you say meekly, messing with the hems of your top.

He didn't catch it over the loud thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. "What?"

"I can help," you repeat, louder this time, wincing at the projection of your own voice. You don't like the strain in your tone, the desperation seeping through. You'd do anything to avoid returning to the party. "I know how to patch up wounds. I'm training to be an EMT."

"I didn't ask for a life story." He snaps, a mechanical response to any aid. The idea of someone taking care of him is unheard of; unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to react other than complete and utter rejection. "Besides, I can take care of myself."

Rafe assumes his harsh words would drive you away. The bite behind each syllable has been enough to scare off everyone else but you remain firm in your position. If anything, your expression softens, eyes washing over his rigid posture with a sympathetic look. He hates it.

"I know," you start slowly, eyes cascading down his face, carefully monitoring his reaction. "But... wouldn't it be nice if you didn't have to?"

His expression breaks.

Your kindness strikes directly to his chest and his heart clutches at the way you address him. With humanity. Even when he's been nothing but a complete asshole to you, demanding your departure, you respond with a sense of warmth. Rafe clenches down his jaw.

When he doesn't answer quickly enough, a sign of his contemplation, you add. "Please."

Reluctantly, Rafe gives in. "Fine."

Rafe moves from the balcony deck to reenter Tannyhill, not bothering to check if you're following behind. He heads straight to the ensuite connected to his bedroom, checking under the sink for his first aid kit, before throwing the box over the counter.

That's when he catches a glimpse of himself through the mirror, the ugly bruising that lines his face, the dried blood that stains his temple. His jaw tightens at the sight.

You enter shortly after, seeing him with his back to the mirror, his spine pressed against the rim of the porcelain sink. Your eyes do a quick sweep of your surroundings, before landing on Rafe and his rigid form, arms crossed over his chest, and a cold look on his face. He just wants to get this over with.

You glance outside, to his room, with its openness, before meeting his gaze. "Can we go to your bed?"

His answer is immediate. "No."

You frown but ask nothing more. Rafe's trying to make this difficult for you, refusing to cooperate because it's easier than submitting to your grace. Easier than admitting he'd like the help. You work around that.

Grabbing the antiseptics from the kit, you proceed to clean his wounds, softly massaging his flesh in the process. For a moment, it feels too good and Rafe fights the urge to lean into your hand before a sharp pain rips through him from the open cut and he hisses.

You immediately pull back, mumbling a quick apology.

His eyes squeeze shut, it takes a moment for the throb to cool down, and once it does, Rafe reconnects his gaze with yours to find the remorseful look behind your stare, the softening of your features met with utmost concern. You don't make another move to try again.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." He bites out, wanting to rid you of that look. He's not weak. Stop looking at him as if he is. Despite the reassurance, you have yet to continue. "You're not going to be a good doctor if you shy away every time your patient gets hurt."

"I feel bad." You admit, chewing on your bottom lip.

"Why? You didn't do this."

He's the one who got into the fight. The one who swung first. While he may have won in the end, having knocked out the guy in the middle of the yard, it doesn't neglect the damage done to him in the process. But, at the end of the day, it's his fault.

You don't see it that way. "Because you're hurting."

You're too soft. That's what Rafe determines. Every little moment, little sprouts of empathy, every inch of sensitivity, is going to hurt you in the end. It won't save anything.

"I don't need your pity," Rafe snaps, giving you the first taste of reality under his razor-sharp tongue. He could be considerate, and understanding, but he isn't. That's how he learned.

"It's not—" You sigh. You don't want to argue and relent against his jabs. Without further commentary, you continue forward with your duties: aiding in his treatment and biting through the humane urge to sympathize with his pain.

Rafe takes the silence to observe you while you work. He knows you grew quiet because of his rough manners, and he won't lie to himself and say he enjoys it. He doesn't. But it adds to the list of everything else he has done wrong in his life; his long string of failures that his father can't wait to remind him of.

In the quietness, Rafe recognizes something about you. It takes a moment, after all the aches and throbs, but the recognition dawns on him that you're new. You hang out with his sister, Sarah, and the rest of the filthy group of no-good Pogues on the other side of the island. There have even been occasions when he saw you under JJ's arm, slinging around red solo cups and a grim soak of southside.

"Where's your friends?" Rafe asks, surprising you with the roughness behind his voice.

You lift your gaze to his. "Hmm?"

"The Pogues. Don't you hang out with them?"

You swallow hard, feeling like a child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You hoped your newcomer status would be enough to shield yourself from Rafe's wraith, especially his hatred towards your selected group. "Why?"

Rafe immediately picks up on the shift in your demeanor, the rigidness in your shoulders that tells him exactly what he needs to know. "You've heard about me, haven't you?"

You hesitate to answer. Rafe presses on. "What'd they say?"

Your friends have told you many warnings about the notorious Rafe Cameron. It all comes down to one conclusion: he's dangerous. He's irrational, self-centered, and narcissistic. He isn't worth talking to because all he cares about is himself.

However, you like to find out for yourself.

Rafe leans forward, lowering himself to meet your height and his face is right in front of yours. An arrogant smirk rises to his lips, a challenge for you to answer. "Come on, princess, don't tell you came up here without doing a bit of research beforehand."

You recognize this as a facade, a way for him to hide his true feelings because it's easier to disturb others. To mess with people and not reflect on your own. You place a hand against the solid of his chest and gently push him back, forcing him to reinstate the safe distance established before. You continue back to your line of work.

Your little push surprises Rafe. It also intrigues him too.

"They said you weren't worth talking to," you say softly, avoiding eye contact as he follows your every move. "That you're dangerous."

He scoffs at the reveal, but it pinches his heart that his own sister would agree. He values her opinion more than he'd like to admit. Drawing out a noncommital shrug, pretending not to care, he declares. "They're right."

You hum. "Maybe."

He looks directly at you with a raised brow. "Maybe?"

Your eyes finally connect with his, "I'm still figuring that out." You pull back, setting the supplies back into his aid box. "Done."

You're about to take a step back when Rafe grabs your wrist, holding you in place. Your breath shortens, and you peer down at the place of your contact before raising your gaze to his.

"What do you mean by that?" He demands, his expression hardens but his eyes are pleading. That juxtaposition, between who he is and what he wants, is the exact thing you're trying to uncover.

You aren't afraid of him. Not like the others.

"I don't know," you answer truthfully, sweeping over his face, reading the conflict his features can't seem to contain. Rafe, you're slowly unraveling, is someone who puts his heart on his sleeves. He just hasn't had anyone who cares enough to look for it. "I just don't know if I truly believe that."

"Why not? The rest of the island does."

It's almost a spiral. An edge closer to it. You think it's because Rafe finally has someone who looks past his mask, his deception that the rest of the island gladly takes. They're afraid of him; he engineered that reputation by hand. But you've met your fair share of burnt souls to know they're all worth saving.

You answer him.

"Your eyes." You explain gently. "They say it's the windows to someone's soul."

"And?"

"And, Rafe Cameron, you're someone who isn't as heartless as you'd like the rest of the world to believe."

His grip loosens from your words and you take the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and settle your arms by your side. Rafe watches as you offer him a soft smile, one that reaches your eyes, and you're about to return to the balcony deck for some peace when he follows you into his bedroom.

"That's not fair." He denounces, halting your exit.

You turn around to face him. "What is?"

"You can't come in here and make those assumptions. You don't know shit about my life."

Rafe doesn't like to be read so clearly; to know that whatever he's trying to front isn't deluding you. For some reason, he needs to convince you that every rumor and gossip is true. That he is bad. The idea of it is embedded so deeply into the crevices of his self-worth, that he's having a hard time believing anything else.

Rafe expects your reaction to meet his fury, but the slope of your brows furrow together calmly. A delicate practice over years of training. "I never said I did."

"You're acting like you do."

You frown. "Now you're making assumptions about me," you refute, pointing out his hypocrisy, and a tinge of sharpness slips through. "You asked and I answered. You can't be mad because you don't like them."

"Then why?" He snaps, irritation spewing with his venom. "Who the fuck are you to make that judgment?"

"I thought you didn't want to hear my life story."

He huffs. Rafe finds himself at a crossroads. While you're standing there, with your collected composure, he feels like he's unraveling by the seams. There's something about you. The way you read through him like glass. He doesn't know if he likes it or not. If he needs it or not.

"Bitch," he mutters under his breath at your lack of compliance, and your breath hitches at the term, a flash of anger goes through you like a surge. He recognized that look; it was something he was all too familiar with.

You turn around, about to sprint for the exit once again when Rafe calls out. "Wait."

You don't want to turn around this time. Rafe had managed to make you break through your own facade, your own composure that you spent years trying to cultivate. Something about being in the same room as the eldest Cameron makes you regress into your formative years.

"Turn around."

Your jaw is slighted, but you try to hold it together. You loosen your features before you turn on your heel. You still don't think Rafe is the person he's trying to present to the world, and you doubt that he truly carries that much cruelty in one body, but that doesn't mean you have to be in the same room as him.

But something made you stay.

Rafe crosses the large space, standing just in front of you. His breath is hot against yours, his eyes sharp. You tilt your head, meeting his stare, but to contrast his intensity, your gaze is soft yet firm, your eyes unwavering. Just because you are kinder than he is doesn't mean you are weak.

"You know what it's like, don't you?" He murmurs gruffly, his voice straining at the exposure. This questioning also carries the weight of admission underneath; to bridge a kinship. "Or are you a liar?"

You're not. But no one's ever asked the questions Rafe is asking either. Not your friends back home or the new ones with the Pogues. They treasure your friendship but they don't understand your depth.

"No."

"No, what?"

"I'm not a liar," you bite out. Rafe's mouth curls into a satisfactory smile, and he gets a glimpse of your real character. The true you underneath all that dignity. It's like his own dirty secret. "I know."

You saw through Rafe because you understood him. You shared the same sentiments. You groomed the same callousness. Every act he performs, you went through first. You can't point at his reflection without looking at the mirror yourself.

But you're a bit different. You learn to control it. You discovered that all that anger was something else. Hurt, pain, injustice. You take it all and put it in a box, caged behind thick chains and hard locks. Never to be touched again. Rafe takes it out to the open, free to play. You may come from the same origin but you take two different routes.

However, Rafe sees you much clearer now. To know you can understand him, see through his perspective, and filter out his incoherent thoughts. That's something he'd never experienced before in his life.

"The voices, anger, and impulses?" His voice shrinks, eyes searching yours. You hesitate before nodding once. "You get that too?"

It comes out when you're most hurt. "I do."

He feels like can breathe for once, to not feel completely isolated from the rest of the world. Rafe always feels off, like something is wrong with him. Nothing can be explained; nothing is allowed to be explored. Even when he sought therapy, his father denied his request. He thought he‘d be forever alone in all this.

He steps forward, closing in the distance until there's only an inch of space separating you. But even that feels too big. Oxygen stuck in your throat, Rafe connects his gaze with yours to whisper. "You're like me, aren't you?"

You swallow hard. You didn't realize understanding someone could be a reflection of your own damning soul. You don't know if it's a good thing. "Yes."

His pupils are dilated and nearly pitch-black. His breathing shortens, and his gaze pools with desire. You feel it too. Your heart accelerates beneath your ribcage, your stomach knotting with want. When Rafe leans forward, about to capture your lips on his, you ready yourself to let it all in.

But you're a bit different.

You turn your head away at the last second, his contact coming to your cheek.

"I'm..." You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut. "I'm with JJ."

The world stills on its axis, and you feel the gravity of it beneath your feet. You slowly peel your eyes open, only to find Rafe having pulled back, his hand, midway through the air to hold your chin, closes into a tight fist.

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes swimming with regret.

The look on his face is heartbreaking because you know him in parallel, you know what he's feeling. You take a step back, for your sanity or his, it’s unclear. All you know is the distance was safe. Until it wasn't.

"I should go." You whisper.

Rafe says nothing as you pad your way across his room, slipping out of the door. He remains motionless in the same spot, his jaw set, his fists clenched by his side. The adrenaline pulses return through his veins.

Fuck.

It takes a minute to gather himself. Hearing nothing but the throbbing bass beneath him, pulsing through the floor. His heart is wretched, his stomach full of nausea.

Rafe returns to the balcony to pull away from his room, the place where you had been, and he steps closer to the ledge. Everything in his mind is too quiet; sterile and white-screeching. He doesn't know how to fathom this change.

His blue eyes search across the lawn and he easily picks you out of the crowd. He knows you well now. Those brief, fleeting moments attached to his soul are permanent memories.

You rejoined the party with Sarah and the rest of the Pogues, while JJ saunters over and throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close and whispering something in your ear. You smile and laugh, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

When you look up, you find Rafe already watching. His eyes are set on yours, unmoving, and the intimacy of his gaze strikes something deep. You had to turn away to preserve yourself.

Rafe slowly comes to his understanding on his own. He never had someone who understood him, much less in such a short time. You unravel him behind gentle stares and quiet observations. You knew him because you knew yourself, and he doesn't want to lose that. He doesn't want to lose you. He can’t.

So, he decided.

You weren't his.

But he's taking you anyways.

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princessbrunette · 5 months

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how would stepbro!rafe react if his friends were ogling you and making gross comments about how badly they want you when they come over to hang out with him 😳 he’d be so angry and torn between telling them they’re not allowed to talk about you like that because he’s your protective older stepbro orrrr taking you upstairs and letting them listen to why he’s actually protective over you

i luv this idea w s1!rafe because he’s got more of a temper n the whole thing just seems more icky <33

︶︶︶⠀𓏸𓈒𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི𓈒𓏸⠀︶︶︶

you were used to the stares from rafe’s friends — the ogling that wasn’t much different from the looks you received from your stepbrother himself. that distant look of amusement, the unabashed way they’d drag their eyes all the way down your body and back up as you speak — like you were a zoo animal behind glass. you barely noticed it anymore, the whole concept of ‘boys will be boys’ having been drilled into your head from rafe’s behaviour. after marrying ward, your mother had even noticed the way rafe looked at you, she’d even raised it with ward himself — who simply shut the whole thing down by telling her “hes a guy, honey. and… she’s a young girl walking around in a bikini i mean of course he’s gonna look. he just has to get used to the way things are around here. in no time, he’ll be seeing her as a sibling and treating her as poorly as he does sarah, trust me.”

but the looks didn’t go away, and with time you started to look back. enjoy his attention. to the point where you’d secretly end up on your back, with your big step brother ‘teaching’ you things that no other guy could, or would be allowed to teach you. your dirty little secret.

you knew rafe’s friends didn’t know — which surprised you, considering you thought rafe would jump at the chance to brag on something so pornographic. you figured they had suspected something was amiss with the two of you, from the way he would take any chance to put his hands on you to ‘mess with’ you, or from the way his eyes would drop to your ass when you’d walk away — but he hadn’t said a word, which to his friends meant it was free game.

after you’d walked out the room, having had a brief discussion with rafe about dinner plans — the eyes followed you until you disappeared into the hallway.

“shit, i nearly got up and followed her.” kelce fills the silence with a joke, causing the room of guys to erupt into laughter of agreement, even topper — the boy who prided himself on being the most ‘respectful’ slapping at his arm and nodding, chortling out something along the lines of “hey you said it not me!”

rafe chuckles himself, understanding the hype. you were smoking hot, and knowing he secretly had the girl they all wanted to himself filled him with a sense of sick pride. “yeah, alright.” he drawls, hoping to end the conversation there and then as he walks back around the couch and slumps down, chewing obnoxiously at his gum.

“you see the way that ass moves, man? shit i get hypnotised everytime she’s walking away.” another comments, followed by another chiming in with “hate to see her go, but love to watch her leave!” which of course had the room erupting into more laughter.

rafe got in his head pretty quickly after that. they were laughing, and not at you — at the idea that you were so easily accessible, and yet untouchable. perhaps they were laughing at the fact rafe wouldn’t be brave enough to make a move on you, due to the odds you’d been dealt — which couldn’t be further from the truth, but rafe didn’t enjoy the insinuation of disrespect. his smile slowly slid off his face, staring ahead, continuing to chew to curb that coke craving that his irritation fed him.

he feels a hand on his shoulder, some red faced try hard from the club that had tagged along back to tannyhill with barely an invite. he sucks in a breath of excitement, unable to continue what he was about to say through his laughter and rafe curls his lip up a little bit in disgust.

“bro, if that was my step sister… things would have got real pornhub in this house, i can tell you that for fr—” his words are cut off by rafe violently shoving the boy a little too hard off him, the guy crashing off the couch onto the floor. quiet falls over the group, now noticing rafe’s sudden change in mood. he doesn’t wanna seem too bothered, so he clears his throat and adjusts his polo collar.

“s’my fuckin’ stepsister you’re talkin’ about… alright? watch your mouth.”

the group decided to drop the topic after that.

︶︶︶⠀𓏸𓈒𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི𓈒𓏸⠀︶︶︶

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #stepbro!rafe #tw stepcest

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itneverendshere · 1 day

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how would the cameron family react to rafe dating a pogue

found a girl my parents love - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) Ps: ward's not a monster in this, just an asshole sometimes, bc my boy rafe deserves a better father figure. also, didn’t know if this request was for this couple but i felt like it fitted them perfectly so here we are again 🫶🏻🤗

Rafe selfishly wanted to keep you a secret for as long as he could.

Not because he was ashamed of you—not even close. You were his, the only person who actually got him. That part of him he never let anyone see, not his family, not his boys.

It was complicated, though, and his family didn't do "complicated" well. Especially not with a pogue. His dad would flip if he knew he was dating someone he hadn’t been personally introduced to before.

The bartender from the club, of all people. The one they’d see serving drinks to them all summer, like you didn’t exist outside those moments. That was the thing though, you did exist, more than anyone he’d ever known. You were real. That’s why he wanted to keep it just for himself. It was his one thing that no one else could touch, could ruin. Topper knew, sure, but he wasn’t going to run his mouth to Sarah after she broke his heart.

So yeah, he held on to it, kept you away from the world that would tear it down before it even had a chance to really breathe. Until Weezie stumbled into your date at the ice cream shop.

He remembered the way his heart stopped when he saw her walk in. Of all places. Of all the people. She looked at him with wide brown eyes, then at you, and then back to him like she’d just walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to see.

And honestly? She did.

“What the hell are you doing here, Weeze?” he snapped, more out of panic than anger.

"Uh? Getting ice cream?" Her face lit up, a huge grin stretching across her cheeks. “What are you doing here? And with her?” She looked at you, her excitement bubbling over before Rafe could get a word in. “Oh my God, this is so cool! You’re dating her? Like, for real?”

You smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension rolling off him. He looked like he was seconds away from shitting himself. He could’ve killed Weezie right then and there. But instead, he just sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, well… don’t tell anyone, alright?”

“Are you kidding?” Weezie practically bounced. “I won’t say a word. Scout’s honor.” She shot you a smile before turning to leave. “But like, this is so cool.”

He scowled at her, “Stop being creepy.”

You slapped his chest, scolding him “Be nice.”

“Oh, I like her!”

She kept her word. For a little while, at least.

A few weeks later, they were all sitting around the dinner table—Ward, Sarah, Rafe, and Weezie. Rose was out doing whatever the fuck she did with her friends. Everything was going fine until Weezie, mid-conversation about nothing important, let it slip.

“I saw Rafe and his girlfriend the other day,” she said, just like it was no big deal.

Girlfriend.

Rafe froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Sarah looked like she’d just been smacked in the face.

“Girlfriend?” Sarah’s voice went up an octave. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

He shot Weezie a look that could shove her ten feet under, but it was too late. She slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing her mistake.

Ward raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “You got something to share with the family, son?”

Rafe cleared his throat, putting his fork down, already working up a sweat. He knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this one. And honestly?

Maybe it was time to stop hiding. He glanced at Sarah, who still looked at him like he was from outer space, then at his dad. He’d always given him shit about girls, all these big speeches about how none of them were ever worth bringing home unless he was serious.

Well, he was serious.

“Yeah,” Rafe muttered, meeting his dad’s eyes. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Who?”

“She’s a pogue!”

Rafe closed his eyes, sighing as Weezie blurted the most important piece of information out. She really just dropped the biggest bomb in the most casual way possible. His dad’s expression didn’t change much, but Sarah? She was fully in shock, her jaw practically hitting the table.

“A Pogue?” Sarah repeated, like she couldn’t believe the words even existed in the same sentence as Rafe. “Are you serious? In this lifetime?”

He shot her a glare. “Yeah, a Pogue. What, is that some kind of crime?”

“What?” She shrieked, “You gave me so much shit when I dated John B!”

He clenched his jaw, his patience hanging by a thread. Of course she was going to bring up John B. She couldn’t let anything go. “That was different,” he snapped.

Sarah scoffed, folding her arms “Different? How exactly?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Because John B’s a dirtbag who had you sneaking around doing God knows what. This is—” he stopped himself, trying to find the right words. “This is different, okay? She’s not like him.”

“So, it’s okay when you date a Pogue? Got it.”

“To be fair,” Weezie chimed in, “John B smelled like shit.”

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips, even though the last thing he wanted to do was encourage her. Sarah shot Weezie a death glare, clearly not amused.

“Language,” Ward warned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I have to tell you girls? No swearing at the table.”

The room fell silent, everyone looking at Rafe like they were waiting for him to say something. His dad didn’t even look mad—if anything, he looked weirdly intrigued.

“So,” Ward said slowly, his gaze locking onto Rafe’s. “You’re serious about her then? Serious enough for me to meet her?”

Rafe swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

“Alright. Let’s make that happen then.”

He blinked, completely thrown off. “What?”

Ward’s response was calm, almost too calm. “If you’re serious about this girl, then it’s time I meet her.”

Rafe just stared at him, unsure if he’d heard that right. His dad wasn’t angry? Was he impressed? Or was this some kind of setup?

“You... wanna meet her?” he repeated, like he needed the words to make sense.

His dad’s expression wasn’t the usual stone wall of judgment. “I’ve always said if it’s not serious, don’t bother bringing her around. You’re saying she’s important to you, right?”

“Uh, yeah…” Rafe’s voice trailed off, still half-expecting this to somehow turn into a lecture or some Ward Cameron test. “She is.”

He nodded, like he was already planning it. “Alright then, set it up. I’ll meet her.”

He couldn’t tell if this was a win or if he’d just walked into something he wasn’t prepared for. His whole plan was to avoid this exact conversation. He looked across the table, expecting Sarah to be just as blindsided as he was, but she was still stuck on one detail.

“You’re dating a Pogue,” she muttered, shaking her head like she couldn’t get past that fact. “I just… wow.”

Rafe shot her a glare. “Get over it.”

Weezie, always the little instigator, grinned. “She was cool.”

“Okay, so… when do I get to meet her?” Sarah’s brown eyes widened with curiosity. “Is she cute? What’s she like?”

This wasn’t how he thought the night was going to go at all.

An hour later, he was lying in bed, staring at his phone, his mind still spinning from dinner. He pulled up your contact, hesitating for a second before hitting the FaceTime button. The screen flashed for a moment, and then there you were, all cozy in your own bed, unaware of what was about to hit.

“Hi baby,” you chirped, clearly happy to see him, “What’s up? You look stressed.”

Rafe rubbed his face, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, well, uh—something happened at dinner tonight.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion, tilting the phone closer to you. “What? Did Sarah say something dumb again?”

“Nah, worse,” he muttered. “Weezie... Weezie kinda let it slip. About us.”

Your eyes widened immediately. “Wait, what? She told them?!”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a low chuckle at the memory of the whole dinner spiraling out of control. “Just dropped it casually like it was no big deal. Sarah freaked out, and my dad—" He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “He wants to meet you.”

For a second, you didn’t say anything. You just blinked, processing his words.

“Wait... Ward Cameron wants to meet me? As in, your dad?”

“Yeah,” He mumbled, almost sheepishly. “He’s all, ‘If you’re serious, I should meet her,’ or some shit. Like it’s no big deal.”

You sat up straight, your heart racing. “Rafe, that is a big deal! What the hell do you mean he wants to meet me?!” Your voice rose, panic starting to take over. “Oh my God, I didn’t even think about having to meet your dad. I figured we’d just— I don’t know—figure it out later!”

Rafe winced, knowing this would freak you out. He tried to keep his voice calm, even though he wasn’t exactly calm himself. “Baby, it’s not like tomorrow or anything. We can plan it out.”

But you were already spiraling. “Your dad’s gonna take one look at me— What if he hates me? What if he tells you I’m not worth it, and then—” you paused, your voice breaking slightly, “What if you start to believe him?”

His stomach clenched at your words. He sat up, the phone now held closer to his face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. What are you even talking about?”

You bit your lip, your thoughts running wild. “I mean... what if he convinces you that I’m not good enough? What if you start seeing me differently? You know how your dad is—he could talk you out of this, talk you out of us.”

Rafe shook his head, almost angry that you’d even think that way. “Are you serious right now? No way in hell is that happening. I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks. You’re the one I’m with because I want to be with you.”

You sighed, your nerves still rattled. “But what if he tries to get in your head? You always talk about how much pressure he puts on you. What if he—”

He cut you off, his voice firm, assertive. “Look, I’m serious about you. I told him that tonight. It doesn’t matter what he says, because you’re the one I love. No one’s changing my mind about that. Not even Ward fucking Cameron.” His eyes softened a little. “I already met your sister. This is just the next step, yeah? It’s us. We’re solid.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He hated this—hated that the idea of meeting his dad was making you feel like this, but he couldn’t blame you. Ward was intimidating even on his best days, and this was not going to be one of those days.

“You’re not gonna throw up,” he said, trying to calm you down, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

You shook your head, running a hand through your bed hair. “What if I say something dumb? What if I screw up, and he hates me, and then everything goes downhill? I’m not, like... your people. You know that.”

His jaw clenched, hating the way you thought of yourself like that. “Don’t say that,” he scolded, “You’re exactly my people. You’re my person.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No ‘buts.’” He cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Listen to me. My dad’s opinion doesn’t change anything. He’s not gonna make me see you any differently. You’re still gonna be the same girl I’m crazy about, no matter what he says or doesn’t say. Got it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to believe him. “It’s just—I don’t know, Rafe. I don’t fit into that world, and what if he sees that right away?”

He hated that you felt this way, hated that his dad had this kind of power hanging over the two of you. “You don’t need to fit into his world, okay? You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Your lips quivered, and for a second, he thought you might start crying. He could feel the panic rolling off of you through the phone, and it hit him hard—he hadn’t realized just how terrified you were of this.

“What if he really doesn’t think I’m good enough for you?” You whispered, almost like you were scared to say it out loud.

Rafe’s heart clenched, and without thinking, he shot up out of bed, pacing his room like he needed to burn off the frustration

“You’re more than good enough for me.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away for a second like you were trying to compose yourself.

“I just don’t want him to—I don’t know? To make you feel like you have to choose between me and your family.”

He stopped pacing, his grip tightening on the phone. “If it ever came to that? I’d choose you. Every fucking time.”

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “Rafe—”

“I mean it,” he said, cutting you off again. “I’m not letting my dad, or anyone else, get in the way. I don’t care if he’s Ward Cameron or the president of the United States. He’s not gonna run my life, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you. And nothing my dad says or thinks is gonna change that. Ever.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall over. Not because you were scared anymore, but because of him. Because of how much he cared. How much he loved you, even when you were spiraling.

He was staring at the screen, concern written all over his face, brows furrowing, "Wait, are you crying?" His voice softened, like he wasn’t sure how to handle you like this, but he knew he wanted to. He needed to.

You quickly rubbed at your eyes, laughing to try and cover up the tears, "No, no, I just— got something in my eye." Your laugh was shaky, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

He didn’t say anything for a second, just watched you with that loving look of his that made you want to bawl your eyes out even harder. He saw right through you. He always did.

“You know,” he finally said, “You don’t have to worry about all that shit. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s when you almost lost it. Because wow. No one had ever said something like that to you before, not until him. Never like that, like he really meant it, like you were the most important thing in his world.

You sniffed, trying to laugh it off again, but it just came out all soft and broken. “I’m just—” you paused, not even sure how to explain how you were feeling, “I’m not used to this. Like, you... caring this much. Loving me like this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he leaned a little closer to the screen, “I’m not stopping.”

“I know. I love you too.”

It was real now.

Meeting the Camerons wasn’t something you could avoid anymore, but at least you knew you had Rafe, a hundred percent.

“You still freaking out?” he asked, though his tone was lighter, like he knew the answer.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’ll get over it.”

“Good,” he said, his smirk returning. “Because I kinda need you around.”

“Kinda?”

He grinned, dimples framing his face, “Okay, a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Rafe hadn’t said a word the entire drive, which was already freaking you out more than you wanted to admit. His knuckles were white, tight around the steering wheel. His jaw was locked, teeth grinding together and you’d caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye at least three times in the past minute.

Your heart was hammering, stomach in knots, and you were starting to wonder if you might actually throw up by the time you got to Tannyhill.

“Baby, seriously, if we crash into a tree ‘cause you’re having a silent meltdown over there, that’s not gonna help either of us.”

He blinked, finally loosening his grip on the wheel. “Sorry. I’m just—fuck, I don’t know.”

You tried to smile, but it felt weak. “Yeah, me too. I feel like I’m walking into some kind of corporate job interview I didn’t apply for.”

Rafe snorted. “Yeah, except the CEO’s a control freak and the company’s, I don’t know, cursed or something.”

That made you laugh, a short, nervous laugh, but still. You appreciated the attempt at humor, even if the nerves in your stomach weren’t going anywhere.

“So, uh... game plan?” you asked, half-joking, but mostly serious. “Am I supposed to shake his hand? Call him Mr. Cameron? Or is it more of a ‘hey, what’s up, Ward?’ situation?”

Rafe finally cracked a grin, shaking his head. “God, I don’t know. Don’t call him Ward; that might send him into some power trip. But definitely don’t call him Mr. Cameron either, ‘cause that’ll just make it weird.”

“Great, so I’ll just go with ‘Hi’ and hope I don’t trip over my own feet.”

“Perfect,” Rafe deadpanned, glancing over at you, “Just be yourself. He’s not as bad as you think. Mostly.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Mostly?”

Rafe’s lips pressed together. "He's not gonna throw you out or anything. And if he does, we’re leaving together. But Sarah...”

“Sarah,” you groaned, leaning your head back against the seat. You’d barely met Sarah, and from what you could tell, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about Rafe’s choice in girlfriends.

“Just don’t let her get to you,” Rafe muttered, his hand reaching for yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “She’s just mad because I used to make John B’s life a living hell.”

“Define hell.”

Rafe smirked, his fingers still interlaced with yours. "I mean, I threw him off a boat once," he said casually, like that wasn’t one of the most insane things you’d ever heard.

You blinked. “You what?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road, like it was no big deal. “He was running his mouth about me."

You stared at him in disbelief, “And you think I’m the one who needs to be worried?”

He laughed, finally loosening up a little, “Relax, baby. I’m not throwing you off anything.”

“So she’s not mad about me? She’s just mad about the double standard?”

“Yeah.”

That made it a little easier to breathe.

The silence settled back in for a moment as you pulled up to Tannyhill. The sight of the massive estate took your breath away. You couldn’t help but feel like you were entering a completely different world now that you were here—a world that wasn’t exactly built for you.

Rafe must’ve noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of your seat a little tighter because he let out a long breath.

“Hey, it’s just a dinner. We eat, we talk, we leave. It’s not like they’re gonna put you under a microscope.”

You gave him a side-eye. “You know, I wasn’t nervous until you said that.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Shit. Sorry.”

The car came to a stop, and you could see the flicker of lights through the windows of the house. The pressure in your chest was building, but Rafe turned toward you, his hand cupping your face.

“Listen,” his blue eyes locked on yours, “I don’t care what happens in there. You’ve got me. If anyone makes you feel like you don’t belong, we’re out. Promise.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, stroking his thumb across your cheek. “One word and I’ll get you out.”

You kissed his palm, “I know.”

“Okay.” he muttered, then pulled away, giving one final deep breath before turning off the ignition. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both stepped out of the car, Rafe knocked once, and within seconds, it swung open to reveal Sarah standing there in all her kook-with-pogue -tendencies glory.

“Well, well,” she smirked, eyes narrowing at you two.

Rafe shot her a sharp look, “Knock it off.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let you in. “I’m kidding. Kinda.” She turned her attention to you, and you could feel her sizing you up, looking completely unfazed as she led the two of you further into the house. "Dad’s in the study. He’s waiting."

Your heart skipped a beat at that. Waiting? What did that even mean?

Rafe must have felt your nerves spike because he reached for your hand again, squeezing it as you followed Sarah down the long hallway.

The house felt even bigger on the inside, with its high ceilings and fancy decor. You felt out of place. But then you peeked over at Rafe, and something about the way he held your hand made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you did belong.

At least to him.

Sarah finally stopped outside a large wooden door, turning to you with an exaggerated sigh.

"Good luck.”

Rafe hesitated for a second, his hand still gripping yours tightly. "You ready?"

No. Absolutely not. But you nodded anyway. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

He pushed open the door, and there he was.

Ward Cameron, sitting behind a massive oak desk, looking as powerful and intimidating as ever. His eyes flicked up from whatever paperwork he was working on, settling on you with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Rafe," Ward said, his voice smooth and controlled, before turning his gaze to you. "And you must be... her."

You swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to say something, anything. "Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Mr. Cameron."

You immediately regretted it. Mr. Cameron? It sounded too formal, too awkward.

Ward didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, he looked amused. He stood up, coming around the desk to get a better look at you. His eyes scanned over you briefly, but it wasn’t the cold, judgmental look you’d expected. Instead, it felt more like... curiosity.

"So, you’re the girl my son’s been so serious about."

You nodded, wanting to be anywhere but stuck in that claustrophobic room despite its size, "That’s me.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked between you and Rafe, “I hear you’re working at the Country Club.”

It wasn’t really a question—more like he already knew everything about you. Oh. You didn’t like that, knowing that someone else was snooping around for dirt on you. At least it sounded like that was the plan.

You managed a nod, trying to keep your voice from sounding too hushed. “Yeah, I’ve been working there for a while.”

His expression didn’t really give anything away, but the way he looked at you, was unnerving. Rafe’s hand squeezed yours, reminding you that, no matter what, he had your back. One word and you were out.

“Good,” Ward finally said, “I like that you work.” He sneaked a stern look at your boyfriend before turning his attention back to you. “He could use some of that drive.”

Wait. What?

You hadn’t expected that. You thought maybe he’d grill you or give you the whole ‘what are your intentions with my son’routine. But no, he was... complimenting you? It had to be some kind of set up.

“Dad—” Rafe started, clearly not expecting that either, but Ward cut him off with a raised hand.

“No, seriously.” His eyes were back on you, and there was almost a smile there, like he was actually impressed. “It’s a good quality. I respect people who work hard, people who don’t just expect things to be handed to them. And from what I’ve heard, you’re one of those people.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

Ward Cameron? Complimenting you? Was this real life? You’d walked in here prepared for a full-on interrogation, and instead, he was... encouraging.

“I just hope some of that rubs off on my son,” Ward added, shooting Rafe a look, and you swore there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “He could stand to work a little harder. He’s always been a bit lazy.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing over at Rafe. He was glaring at his dad, but you could tell he wasn’t really pissed, just...embarrassed. You found it endearing.

“Thanks, Dad,” Rafe mumbled.

“I like it. Maybe you’ll inspire him to work a little harder.”

You blinked. Wait, was this actually happening? Did Ward Cameron, of all people, just say he liked you? This whole night felt like it was gonna be a disaster, and now... maybe it wasn’t gonna be so bad. You hoped so.

You really wanted his family to like you, you felt like you owned him at least trying.

“You know," Ward began, "I wasn't always the man you see standing here today." His voice took on a reflective tone, and you could sense the change in the atmosphere as he prepared to tell his story. "I grew up on the Cut, just like a lot of those kids you see around he, like you,” Ward said, almost casually, but you could tell it wasn’t a casual thing for him. "Back then, I didn’t have much. But I worked my ass off to get out of that place. I didn’t have a name, no wealth behind me. What I have now? I built that from the ground up. No one handed me anything."

Rafe, who had been quiet up until now, let out a small, barely audible sigh, shifting uncomfortably beside you. You took a quick glance at him and caught the unmistakable eye-roll he tried to hide.

Clearly, this wasn’t the first time Ward had given this speech. But at the same time, you could tell he was relieved that his dad wasn’t tearing into you. That had to count for something, right?

Ward, oblivious or perhaps just unfazed by his son’s reaction, continued, his voice gaining momentum like he was giving you some kind of motivational speech. "It wasn’t easy. There were plenty of times when I could’ve given up, but I didn’t. I pushed through, made connections, took risks. That’s how you get ahead. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes. Now look where I am—" He gestured around at the lavish room, the estate itself practically a testament to his success. "I built an empire. Something real. Something that can last."

You nodded politely, unsure if you were supposed to say something. Rafe’s obvious eye-rolling and silent huffs of frustration beside you made it clear that he’d heard all this a hundred times before. He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms, clearly waiting for his dad to wrap it up.

But Ward wasn’t done yet. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The point is," he said, his tone softening a little, "I respect people who are willing to work for what they want. I see that in you. It’s not about where you start—it’s about where you’re going."

Rafe let out a short, quiet breath that you might’ve missed if you weren’t sitting right next to him. He shot you a small, knowing smile, almost like he was apologizing for the speech but also relieved that Ward wasn’t being an asshole.

You squeezed his hand under the table. At least his dad wasn’t tearing you down.

"Thanks, Mr. Cameron," you said, finally finding your voice. "I really appreciate that."

He nodded, seeming satisfied with himself. "Just remember," he added, his voice lowering as if he was giving you some kind of life lesson, "Hard work pays off. You keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll get somewhere. Don’t ever settle, not even for him.”

“Thanks again.”

Rafe looked like he was about to explode from how much he was holding back, but he just gave you a quick wink as if to say, Yeah, this is typical dad, but hey—he likes you, so we’re good.

Ward clapped his hands together, the moment of sincerity quickly passing. "Alright, well, I think dinner’s ready. Shall we?"

He strode ahead, leading the way out of the study and toward the dining room, leaving you and Rafe a few steps behind. The moment he was out of earshot, you looked up at Rave, “You think we’re good?”

He smirked, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes, his tone all teasing. “Baby, I think he might build you a pedestal.”

You couldn’t help but snort, trying to keep your voice down as you followed Ward. “Really? After that ‘self-made empire’ speech?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, giving you a knowing look. “Trust me, if you got through that and he didn’t start questioning your entire existence, you’re golden. The man sees himself in anyone who works hard enough to breathe without permission.”

You bit back a laugh, gripping his hand as you walked down the long hallway. “Yeah, I was getting that vibe.”

His grin grew wider, his thumb skimming over your knuckles. “And look, usually, it’s a full-blown interrogation by now. You’re good.”

You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised. “Really?”

Rafe nodded. “Oh yeah. Sarah’s brought home guys before and it was... rough.” He shook his head, “He actually likes you. That’s rare.”

Maybe things with the Camerons were actually going to be okay.

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me-and-your-husband · 1 year

Text

widow's bite (1) || e. williams

summary: "...the dangerous Black Widow is to be approached with caution, as the Black Widow's bite can cause death. she encases her victims with silk, then kills with poison from her fangs."

you're a black widow. you're sent to kill Spider-Woman. something inside of you just can't do it.

warnings: smut in future chapters, ellie is 18 and reader is 19, dreykov being gross which is canon, mentions of suicide attempt, canon death (sarah), swearing maybe? probs more, not proofread cause i'm lazy

word count: 4k

a/n: soooo i got this request and although it took FOREVER for me to write it, i was so excited that i just had to make it a series...i SWEARRR i'll try to update regularly but going back to uni is kicking my ass a little. also, ellie is basically mcu!peter. some of the avengers may make appearances. tony isn't dead.

You stood tall in front of the massive screen in his office. Videos of a girl in a red and black suit swinging through New York City illuminated your solemn features. At the top of the screen, there were only a few words: Spider-Woman: TERMINATE.

“She keeps coming so close to discovering our New York base,” Dreykov’s accent spread through the dark room. “I can’t have her getting in the way of my work. This is important.”

You nodded, eyes never leaving the screen.

“You will bring her body back to me. She seems to have some sort of abilities, abilities I can use to make you stronger. Better.” His thick hand slithered up your shoulder. “Do you copy?”

“I copy.”

His lips twisted into a sinister smile, his gross breath hot on your cheek. “Always so obedient.” He licked his lips.

He smiled, “You take off…” he glanced at his watch, “right now. I don’t want to see you again until she's dead,” he spat in your ear.

“Yes, sir.”

"Hey! Come back, mister criminal!”

Faint thwips filled the air as Ellie swung past corporate building after corporate building, chasing some burglar who happened to try robbing Delmar’s when she was ordering sandwiches for her and Joel. He would have to wait. She was just lucky she had her suit under her clothes.

He booked it down the sidewalk, cash flying out of the duffle bag, throwing pedestrians to the side as he tried escaping Spider-Woman.

She grunted as she dodged semi-trucks and cars, bikers and typical New York tourists. She almost lost sight of him when he turned a corner, but she could still hear his laboured breathing.

She could sense that he had stopped, under the impression that he had thrown her off his trail. He was resting in an alley up against an apartment building. Climbing to the roof, she perched herself on top as she looked down at him, hands on his knees as he panted.

“Hey, man, I think you forgot this!” She yelled as she dropped next to him. Before he could react, she cocooned him in webbing and left him stuck against the wall.

“You got a pen by any chance?” She asked, to which she had to dodge a ball of spit directed at her head. “Should've guessed.”

She pulled her calculus notebook out of her backpack with one of her good pens and scribbled a note on it:

“This is the one that robbed the bodega. I think you should cut old Delmar a tax break for his troubles.

Love,

Spider-Woman”

She called it into the station and webbed the note to the criminal, webbing his mouth shut too while she was at it.

As she walked out of the alley muttering “all in a day’s work”, she heard the faint pleas of a small child. Letting her heightened senses guide her, she swung until she found the source coming from an open window in a different apartment complex.

She slid the window open far enough to get inside, putting her hands out in front of her when the child noticed her and was frightened.

“No no no! Just your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman, not gonna hurt you! I promise,” she said, getting to the little girl's level. The girl’s eyes softened and she seemed to trust Ellie.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, lip trembling. “My sister…please help.”

“Okay, where is she now?”

The little girl pointed outside of her door, “The kitchen.”

Ellie took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to go help her. You stay right here, okay? Don’t move.”

Something inside of her told her that something was wrong. She brushes it off as someone else being in danger.

As she creeps out of the child’s room, she surveys her surroundings. It looked like a regular New York apartment, a little messy, but nothing her and Joel’s place hadn't seen. Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

She suddenly had difficulty breathing when you jumped from somewhere above and wrapped your legs around her neck, squeezing. You elbowed her head repeatedly.

She grabbed you by your hips and threw you off of her, gasping for breath. Her naivety still told her that you needed help.

Was it her naivety?

“Calm down, lady! I’m trying to help you!” she said, still gasping. She watched the girl scurry past her and over to you. “I thought I said—”

She stopped talking when she saw you hand the girl a twenty, eyes still trained on Spider-Woman.

Once you knew the child was a safe distance away, you attacked. His voice rang in the back of your head. No casualties. No witnesses.

You lunged at her, hands finding her throat.

“Woah, at least take me on a date first,” she remarked as she easily slid out of your grasp, jumping up to the ceiling and latching on. She webbed your left arm to the wall. You let out a grunt of dissatisfaction as you squeezed your fist, a blade coming out of your cuff and slicing through the web. It was installed in all of the Widows’ suits in case of capture.

“Oh. That's pretty cool, honestly,” she said as she dodged a bullet from your pistol, flipping down from the roof. You charged her again, this time taking out her legs and pinning to the ground. You threw a hook right at her jaw, to which she exclaimed “Ow!”, catching the next one with ease. Your eyes widened as she flipped the two of you over, pinning you underneath her.

“Look, I don't want to—”

Before she could finish, you had sent electric currents through your suit, effectively tazing her.

In her incapacitation, you were able to flip over again and pressure your knee against her neck. While she struggled for air, her legs flailed underneath her. She managed to knee you in the stomach, opening up an opportunity to throw you off her. You both stood up, ready to go at it again, both slightly out of breath.

“Are you gonna say something?” Silence. “Can you even talk?”

She lunged forward in an attempt to pull down the mask that covered half of your face, a piece of fabric resting atop the bridge of your nose. Before she could grab it, you grabbed her wrists, locating her web cartridges. You released another electric current, frying them.

She stepped back, trying to shoot webs, but to no avail. That's when she saw the text on the bicep of your suit: WIDOW-893. “Shit!”

You threw a swift kick into her abdomen while she was caught off guard and knocked her down to her knees. Her eyes widened as you threw punches at her face, too dazed to think of blocking. When she finally grabbed your fist, she could feel the blood from her nose leaking through her mask and could taste metal.

“You’re a Widow? Like Nat?”

You struggled to get your hand out of her grasp. Instead, you pushed all your weight forward and landed on top of her chest, pinning her arms.

You reached forward and slid your fingers under the fabric of her mask. She struggled underneath you, but you had her pinned and she wasn't going anywhere.

You basked in her struggle, slowly sliding the mask off her face.

“I was sent to kill you.”

“So you do talk. Wait—”

“And that's what I’m going to do.”

“Please don't take my mask off. Please. Please don't kill me. Oh god, I have so much to live for, please—!”

You slipped her mask off completely to be met with her perfectly curved and soft lips, her delicate green eyes, and her pretty freckles, her auburn hair messy from having it under the mask. Her brows furrowed and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it to happen. When it didn't, she slowly opened one eye, and then the other. She was met with you admiring her face, gaze raking over her features.

Your eyes were wide and seemed slightly glassy, and she couldn't help but wonder why they looked so distant. Why it looked like you were trapped behind them.

She realized you weren't pinning her down anymore. She loosened an arm slowly from underneath you and brought it up to the fabric around your face, gently beginning to tug the mask down.

Your cold grasp on her wrist stopped her. “Don't.”

“Why not?” She whispered.

You tore your gaze away from her, standing up. You turned your back to her.

Looking back at her once more, you said, “Because it will end badly."

You moved to leave through the window, but a thought stopped you briefly

The truth is, you didn't know what to do. It's like you had just gained free will, like she had broken some spell. You had thought you were operating on your own terms until now.

You'd been sent to take out powerful men, some women, usually old, usually established, usually somewhat corrupt. But when you saw the fear in the eyes of a girl your age, your body shocked you back into free will.

Your back still to the girl, you just shook your head and jumped.

She coughed as she pushed herself up off the ground and shoved the mask back down over her face, wondering if she'd ever see you again. If she'd ever find out who you really are.

“This is WIDOW-893,” you said into your comm-link, talking to an obscure agent you'd probably never meet. “I need an extraction. I’m sending you my location now.”

Static sounded in your ear before a harsh male voice began, “Has the mission been completed?”

You elected to ignore the question.

“Has the target been eliminated?”

More silence as you hunted for a place to lay low for a bit.

“Widow, has the target been eliminated?!” The agent’s frustration was palpable in his voice.

You swallowed. “Negative.”

“What do you mean, negative? This mission was of utmost— Sorry? Yes, sir.” Some keyboard clicks. “She can hear you now.”

“893, why wasn't your mission completed?” Dreykov’s invigorated voice droned through the comm. You searched for an excuse that wouldn't get you terminated. Or worse.

“The target seems to have heightened senses. She was able to get the jump on me before I was in position. My identity was almost discovered so I was forced to retreat.”

Dreykov let out a pained sigh. Slowly, he said, “I’m only going to tell you this once, agent, so listen very carefully. You are disposable. The mission must proceed, regardless of your comfort. We can easily terminate you and move on to the next Widow. Copy?”

“I copy.”

“Now, if this happens again, I will have you terminated. You get a pass this time because you're one of the…finer specimens we have. You will not be sent an extraction. You will complete this mission in terminating Spider-Woman. Do not make contact until then,” he said, and you could almost feel his hands slithering up your back and around your neck. “And don't think you're not being watched.”

With that, the connection was severed.

Ellie threw the soggy McDonald’s bag down on the kitchen table as Joel stood at the sink washing dishes.

“Couldn't get sandwiches from Delmar’s. Poor guy got robbed again,” she said as she began digging in the bag for her fries.

Joel turned around to give her a shocked look. “Someone’s gotta look out for the people in this city. Lord knows the cops ain’t doin' much,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well…Spider-Woman looks out for people,” Ellie said, tearing the waters. Joel never really sided with J. Jonah Jameson from that stupid news station, but he was never really for the “vigilante” either.

He sighed. “Look, Ellie…I know you think Spider-Woman is cool and all, and I think it's good that she looks out for the normal people of New York, but I think it's irresponsible. I mean, I’m sure she's got people in her life that love her and she’s puttin’ her life at risk seven days a week,” he said as he dried the dishes and put them away.

“Yeah but,” Ellie said through a mouthful of fries, “If you had that power, wouldn't you be responsible for using it for good?”

“Yes, I suppose. But with great power comes great responsibility, Ellie. And with responsibility comes an immense need for balance. Remember that,” he said, turning to look at her.

Ellie swallowed the last few fries as she took a moment to digest what Joel had said. She gave him a meaningful smile before he turned back around to put the last few dishes away.

She couldn't help but think about your “power”. Was it given to you, or forced on you? How did you become so skilled? You were her age, or at least not far off. She’d never met someone so close to her age who held such a huge responsibility. But was it really a responsibility if you were being forced into it?

She knew she'd probably never come across you again, so there wasn't really a reason to overthink it. Right now, she just wanted to finish her Physics homework and watch The Empire Strikes Back with Jesse.

Weeks had gone by and every moment plagued your mind with thoughts of Ellie. Or rather, if you had it in yourself to kill her.

Your immense training in Covert Ops was indeed handy for situations like these. You shadowed Ellie almost 24/7. You followed her on her commute to her high school, which you noted to be Midtown. You surveilled her through the cameras you'd planted in all of her classes. You followed her after school to the alley where she'd leave her school stuff and switch to her second life. You climbed from building to building as you followed her web-slinging as closely as possible without being seen. You searched and searched for something to justify it, something to prove she's a bad person and deserves to be terminated. But nothing. Nothing when she helped old ladies carry their groceries inside, or rescue little girls' cats from trees, or stop lecherous men from harassing women on the street. Especially nothing when you spied through her living room window and saw her laughing with her dad every Sunday morning.

Three weeks after your first attempt at termination, you had stumbled across the perfect moment to investigate your target’s bedroom. She was at a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art with her class, and her dad was at work.

Around noon, you whistled as you climbed the stairs to the apartment, smiling softly as you find the right one. You knock for good measure, and when nobody answers you slide two bobby pins out from your hair when to pick the lock. Classic, but it always works.

When you open the door you lock it again from the inside so nothing would seem astray. You feel an uncomfortable, throbbing pain in your chest as you look around at the framed portraits of your target and her dad, lots from when she was young. One of her holding a medal in a soccer jersey. One of them at a planetarium together. One of them with a model dinosaur in the background, a hat atop its head, both of them grinning.

You creep through the hallway, looking for one room in particular. Opening the first door, you enter an office space. You decide it might be useful in gathering intel on her family.

You slide open a drawer of the filing cabinet labelled “records”. There seemed to be two sections, one for her father’s business, and one for their personal records. The latter had significantly less material. You slid out the folders and placed them on the desk, taking a seat in the chair.

The first folder read: ADOPTION RECORDS

You skimmed the papers and deduced that about five years ago, a man named Joel Miller (presumably the target’s father) and a woman named adopted a girl named Ellie Williams, but had fostered her long before that with a woman named Theresa Servopoulos, the word “deceased” in brackets next to her name. Anna Williams, her single mother, died shortly after childbirth and a woman named Marlene took her in. However, Marlene gave her up to a foster home once she hit school age.

Another folder read: MEDICAL RECORDS

Ellie had a long history of optometry visits prior to about two years ago, then they just suddenly stopped. There was nothing else really interesting in her file.

Joel, however, was a different story. Medical records that yellowed and flaked at the edges sat in his file from over 20 years ago. He was admitted for a self inflicted GSW to the head shortly after the death of his daughter, Sarah Miller. He was admitted to a psychiatric ward by request of his brother, Tommy Miller, shortly after.

Another file read: ELLIE’S SCHOOL RECORDS

It was evident that Ellie had excelled in school ever since she had settled in with Joel, specifically in the math and science areas. Her transcripts highlighted a bright 4.0 gpa. She had a bright future.

Now with a name for your target, you decided to search her room to gain some more personal intel. Tucking the files away and closing the drawers, you stalked out of the office and down the hall to what was Ellie’s room (the words “Ellie’s Room!” scrawled on a banner on the door making it painfully easy).

The door creaked slightly when you pushed it open. You were immediately hit with the vague sent of pine and mahogany. Dirty flannels and socks were piled in a corner or sometimes littered around the room. An empty ramen cup sat on her nightstand. Notebooks and textbooks filled with complex calculations sat open on her book. Her blankets were peeled back, revealing astronaut bedsheets. “Cute,” you thought.

The cracked open window let in a nice breeze. The light blue walls were littered in posters, photos, and banners. Next to a lesbian flag above her bed were photos of her and the two friends she was always with. Plastered around her room were covers of comics, something called Savage Starlight. There were silly math reference posters, Star Wars posters, and just about everything you would never expect from a crime fighting vigilante.

Her laptop was left open, and a few clicks and an easy password guess later, the screen unlocked to Ellie’s web browser. Her search history made your brows furrow. You expected to find “How to buy weed NYC” or “porn” at the very least.

Search: Is there more than one Black Widow?

Search: Natasha Romanoff history

Search: The Red Room

Search: Dreykov The Red Room

Search: Dreykov Russia

Search: Black Widow Assassins

Search: Natasha Romanoff Phone Number

She had been researching you. Hell, she hadn't done a very good job by the looks of it. And did she really think The Black Widow’s phone number was public information?

You grabbed a figurine from Ellie’s desk and toyed with it as you took a moment to think. Was it really worth taking the life of an innocent girl just for the sustenance of your organization? Was it even your organization? It's not like you could remember how you got there. It's not like you remembered your family, or your friends, or what it was like to have them… It wasn't so bad if you didn't really have anything to compare it to, right?

A soft pressure around your ankles made you look down. Silky webbing coated your boots.

“Sit down,” her voice came from near the window. You turned as much of your body as you could and watched as Ellie gestured to her desk chair. With no choice but to oblige, you sat. She webbed your arms to the armrests, not taking any chances.

She spun the chair to face her direction and then leaned back against the window.

“What do you want with me?” She inquired, green eyes searing into yours.

“I told you. My mission is to-”

“No. If you were going to kill me, I’d be dead already.” Good point.

You broke eye contact and looked around her room dramatically. “Cute room. I like the flag.”

“Tell me what you want with me,” she said, stalking closer to your chair. “I’m not asking this time.”

“What happened to the ‘friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman’ I met? Do you rest all your guests like this?” You quipped.

“Yeah? Well, forgive me if I’m not so friendly to the one who tried to kill me, has been stalking me for weeks, and broke into my apartment.”

You roll your eyes.

Her large hand wraps around your jaw, forcing you to look in her eyes.

“Roll your eyes one more time and see what happens,” she growls. “Now tell me.”

You jerk your jaw away and kick her in the stomach, enough time for you to effectively sever the webs around your wrists and ankles.

“Fuck, I forgot about those,” Ellie says under her breath as she webs her bedroom door completely shut and stands in front of the window to block your exit.

“Move,” you demand.

“Nope.”

“Move. Or this won't end well for either of us.”

“Nah, I think I’ll just stay right here ‘till you tell me what you want with me.”

You charged her, attempting to throw her to the side and leap through the window she entered through, but she's stronger. She's like brick as she pushes you back.

“Just let me go. I’ve made up my mind anyways. I’m done with you.”

“No can do. I’m not in the habit of letting pretty girls who try to kill me go so easily,” she said, and you felt your cheeks heating up. She webbed the window shut and sat down in her bed, gesturing to her desk chair again. “Come on. I just want to know what your people want with me. Then you can go, I promise.”

You knew it wouldn't hurt to tell her. You'd have to go on the run from Dreykov anyways. Rip your tracker out and all. So you sat and watched as she reached into a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a pack of peanut M&Ms.

“Want some?” She asked as she peeled it open. You shook your head and she shrugged. “More for me, then.”

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Start from the beginning.”

You cleared your throat. “I was given the mission to find you and-”

“No. I get that part, I’m not stupid. I want to know how this happened to you. And how I can help you out of it."

permanent tags:

@winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

ellie taglist:

@chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz @pedrobaby @urlocalgingersnap @wrendermedone @kissyslut @felsweb @darleneslane

a slash thru your user means i'm unable to tag you!

taglists

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams angst #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams series #ellie williams x reader fluff #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams x reader series #ellie x you #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou2 #the last of us #tlou #the last of us 2 #tlou2

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yazthebookish · 8 months

Text

Hello my loves❤️!!

I've said that I do not intend to discuss anything HOFAS-related since I haven't read the book and I only know a few details I specifically asked.

But I read the beautiful, beautiful Bryce, Nesta, and Azriel Walmart chapter and I need to just gush about something. It's not the whole chapter but just small parts of it mostly relating to Azriel.

Disclaimer: I have no interest in engaging in ship discourse (annoy me and it's an immediate block) nor do I want someone to change my opinion because it will not be changed. I stick by what I read and interpret in these books and am quite happy and content with it 😉

⚠️ Bryce, Nesta, and Azriel Bonus Chapter Spoilers Ahead! ⚠️

And with each mile onward, she could hear Azriel humming softly to himself. The rolling, wild melody of "Stone Mother" flowed off his lips, and she could have sworn even the shadows danced at the sound.

Do you realize that the entire time Bryce was playing the songs on her phone, she made no comments on Azriel's shadows but towards the end when her phone's battery died and Azriel started humming to himself, then she made a note of the shadows dancing at his sound.

They did not dance to her songs, they dance to Azriel's humming and I find that so endearing!!

It proves my point again at the instances we get descriptions of Azriel's shadows singing are with positive connotations. Their dancing is not written to be nefarious or odd.

Pray tell, in the entire series when Az's shadows are described to be dancing, which scenarios triggered those actions? Mostly when it comes to Gwyn because if you search in every book you won't find a description of them dancing around someone except Gwyn. This is a point I've been making since ACOSF came out and I'll highlight them below:

• These excerpts are from Azriel's bonus chapter

"How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music.

Gwyn wasn't singing here, they were reacting to some silent music... which we can suspect as much is the mating bond? A bond Sarah described in ACOSF as music between souls?

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

His shadows sang in answer. We don't know for sure if Gwyn was singing or it was something else but I'll bet on the latter since she was training and one of his shadows earlier darted out to dance with her breath as if it heard some silent music. It still reaffirms to me that it can hear the music between souls, the mating bond.

• This is from ACOSF (pg. 623) and keep in mind this is post-Solstice/Azriel's bonus chapter

Azriel clapped his hands, and all the females straightened. "You'll work in groups of three."

Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright,

"What do we get if we finish the course?"

Az's shadows danced around him. "Since there's no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn't bother to get a prize."

One of the things I absolutely love when it comes to SJM's romances is she creates a common ground for the couple and gives them some things to bond and connect to.

In this instance, it's not only about Azriel's shadows but the fact that he also is fond of music. He doesn't express his fondness through dancing like Nesta, he hums to the tune. He sings.

Who else adores music and sings? Gwyn.

Who made Azriel admit that he sings? Gwyn.

These are not a coincidental connections.

And the author is a big fan of music so I think it's such a beautiful connection to create between two characters that have had such a dark and tragic past and are still processing the trauma they experienced.

The chapter did not give us much in terms of ships or who is Azriel into, but it did elaborate more on Azriel's fondness for music. It did elaborate on the genuine reactions of his shadows which were sometimes always framed in a negative way.

It also kind of proved my cute headcanon about whenever Azriel sings, his shadows dance around him.

I honestly can't wait for his book!! But first we have to tackle HOFAS so look forward to my reading updates in a few days!

#hofas #hofas spoilers #gwynriel #yaz reads hofas #yaz the bookish breaks her silence #okay yaz didn't read hofas I just want to keep it in that tag for future reference Lol

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dark-fics-4-you · 2 years

Text

Attention Whore Ch I

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsis: After making you leave a party for wearing a revealing outfit, Rafe teaches you a lesson you’ll never forget.

Warnings: noncon !! smut, unprotected sex, creampie, gaslighting, toxic relationship

You were arguing, again. The third time today actually. But this was the first time that the two of you had ever hashed it out one of his parties.

“I’m serious,” Rafe hadn’t raised his voice at you, yet. But you knew it was coming. “If you don’t change your outfit right now, I’m taking you home. I know Sarah has some clothes you could borrow, so what do you want to do?”

“I can wear whatever I want to Rafe! And there’s nothing even wrong with this dress! I look hot!”

He gritted his teeth with frustration, “That’s the problem baby. I can’t have every fucking guy in Figure 8 eyeing you like that. It’s disrespectful to me.”

“I thought you wanted to show me off? Wasn’t that the whole point of me coming to this party?” You retort.

“I wanted to show you off, not your tits. We’re leaving,” Rafe finally snapped and he grabbed your wrist and tugged, some of his friends parting the crowd to make it easier for him to drag you out.

“You’re acting fucking crazy Rafe!” You stumbled behind, feet unsteady from the booze you had tonight.

“Shut your mouth sweetheart,” Rafe hissed in your ear, clicking the lock on his keys as you approached the truck. It beeped and he corralled you to the passenger side, opening the door and shoving you in, slamming it shut behind you.

“I don’t understand what the problem is!” You begged as Rafe climbed in the driver’s side, and flicked the ‘Lock All’ button. Terrified, you grabbed at the handle to find it was locked.

“The problem,” Rafe began, voice shaking with rage as he pulled out of the driveway, “is that you’re making me look bad in front of my friends! You’re dressed like some kind of Pogue streetwalker.”

His words stung and confused you. He had bought this dress for you. How was he getting mad at you for wearing it?

You inhaled through your nose, trying to calm your nerves and your voice wavered, “I thought you wanted me to wear it.”

“Yeah, but not to a party where all of my friends are gonna think you’re trash I found off the side of the street!” Rafe spat, pure vitriol in his voice.

“Oh I’m sooo sorry that my outfit wasn’t up to your standards, Rafe!” You said sarcastically. “I’m sorry that I looked good in front of your friends!”

“You’re not listening to me, fucking listen to me, Y/N!” Rafe snapped at you. The veins in his forehead were bulging and his face was red with anger. His eyes were set on the road before him, death gripping the wheel and beginning to speed up.

“This is fucking ridiculous, Rafe! Can’t you just let go of it?” Your voice was rising, rage beginning to simmer over.

“D-do I look like I’m messing around right now? Huh? Do you think this is a joke?” Rafe brought his eyes off the road to meet yours, fury burning into them.

“No but I think you’re a fucking joke.” The words came out before you could think to stop yourself, and your eyes widened when you realized what you said. “R-Rafe I didn’t mean i-“ you’re cut off, flying forward in your seat before your seatbelt catches you, as he suddenly brakes in the middle of the road. Surrounded by darkened farmland, the area was completely unlit.

Rafe’s breathing was loud and fast, eyes glued to the steering wheel, composing himself. You tried to catch your breath, you needed to get the hell out of his truck.

Your door was probably still locked, and you took the chance to lunge across Rafe, trying to push the unlock button while unbuckling your seatbelt at the same time.

You managed to push the button but Rafe reacted immediately, grabbing your wrists tightly and keeping you from escaping the car.

You thrashed against him, somehow breaking free from his grip just long enough to push the door open and slide yourself out.

You fell onto the hard ground, Rafe bellowing behind you, and you quickly staggered to your feet, making it five strides before you were knocked back to the ground, all the air leaving your lungs.

“You are gonna wish you didn’t say that, princess.” Rafe flipped you onto your back, straddling you and wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Rafe! Please!” You choked, fear evident in your eyes. “I’m s-sorry.”

Rafe chuckled lowly, eyes dark. “No, you’re not sorry yet. But you will be when I’m through with you.”

Panic flashed through you when you felt Rafe’s hand wander from your throat to your chest. You stammered at him to stop, but he ignored you. He cupped your tit in one hand over the fabric, roughly plucking at you. Your stomach rolled as you realized your boyfriend didn’t care that you were now literally screaming at him to stop.

Rafe reached into his back pocket to pull out a small knife and pointed it at you.

“I’m not gonna lie, Y/N, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, so thank you for finally giving me a reason to.” Rafe sneered at you and you shrieked with fear, scared that he was about to take your life. Instead, he brought it to the bottom of your dress, and began slicing it off you, cutting all the way up to the top of the dress, splitting it in half.

You were in shock, unable to process anything that was happening. Rafe pushed the material of your dress to the side, and reached to undo the fly of his pants

Your eyes widened at him as he pulled out his erect cock. He stroked himself, pushing your panties to the side, not giving you any time to react.

“This is your fault, Y/N, remember that. This is what happens when you make a joke out of me.” Rafe pushed into you in one thrust, bottoming out and you screamed in pain.

You felt like he was splitting you in half, the pain so sharp you began to sob. Rafe snapped his hips against yours mercilessly, trying to fuck the lesson into you.

“Little whore has to have everyone’s attention,” Rafe sneered at you. “Well now you have my goddamn attention.”

Your boyfriend slammed deep into you, again and again, your tears and cries of pain only seeming to goad him on.

“You’re mine, Y/N. Understand that? Only mine. And I will fuck you in front of all of our friends to prove it if you pull some shit like this again!” Rafe’s cruel, mocking words boiled your blood, but you couldn’t keep yourself from loving the way your cunt was clenching around him.

“Who the fuck do you belong to?” Rafe roared, fucking you harder and deeper as his orgasm approached. The lewd sounds of your wet pussy made your cheeks burn.

“Y-you, Rafe!” You squeaked, barely able to get the words out, you couldn’t think about anything other than the pleasure of his cock dragging against your walls.

You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge of release, which made you want to be sick. Your boyfriend was raping you and you were turned on? Your shame only made you cry harder.

“Oh my god you’re so tight, Y/N. This cunt is all mine. I’m gonna paint your walls with my cum.” Rafe moaned, still frantically pounding into you. Your head was spinning but the euphoria between your hips was undeniable.

Rafe brought one hand to your throat and squeezed, finally pushing you over the edge. You screamed in pain and pleasure, shaking as you came. Rafe thrusted into you several times until it was too much for him. With a groan and one final snap of his hips, he finished inside you and you felt his cum spurting into your sore cunt.

You could feel the stickiness of his seed gushing out between your thighs as he pulled out of you.

You stared at each other, just catching your breath. Processing. You were speechless, and you had no idea if he was going to say anything either.

Rafe stood, tucked his cock back into his pants, moved your soaked panties back into place, and helped you stand up, hugging an arm around your waist to support you as you stumbled.

“Now, did we learn our lesson, baby?” His voice was patronizing, but tender, like he wanted to praise you and tear you down at the same time.

You sniffled and hugged the tatters of your dress to yourself, nodding your head, but avoiding his eyes. He paused beside you and stopped.

His fingers gripped your chin and he forced you to meet his gaze, the edge in his voice unmistakable, “what was that, Y/N? I need to hear that you learned your lesson.”

“I-I learned my lesson, Rafe. I’m sorry.” You were sure that tears were leaking from your eyes again but you couldn’t do anything to stop them.

Your boyfriend traced his fingers to your cheeks and wiped the tears from below your eyes with a thumb.

“Good girl.” Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, too gentle after the brutality he just exposed you to. “Let’s get you home princess.”

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron noncon #outer banks #obx #dark!rafe cameron #dark smut

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year

Note

HI BESTIE !!! 🫂

i was wondering how Joel would react to Doc spoiling him ROTTEN after she got that big girl money 🫦 (in the lavender au)

(because i know she will spoil him so much as a thank you for his unwavering support throughout her career 🥹)

OMG Hi Bestie!

I love this ask so so SO much. Joel is so soft with his girls and he deserves all the good things, including his wife treating him to all the best things once she's a big time surgeon.

This is just the perfect prompt for our favorite man's birthday, too! I hope this is just what you were hoping for. Love you!

Spoiled

After years of Joel taking care of you, you take care of Joel. A one shot set in the Lavender AU timeline.

Yes I know it's not a Joel gif but it fits the fic so well I had to.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Joel and Doc from the Lavender AU)

Warnings: Fluff and smut, smut and fluff. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4.4K

It started with a shopping trip in Houston for Sarah’s wedding.

She needed a dress for the rehearsal and her bachelorette party and the malls in Austin just weren’t cutting it.

“I’m telling you,” she said after coming up empty handed on another Saturday spent shopping as the two of you ate salads and drank sweet tea at a patio cafe. “We need to go to Houston. We haven’t found anything for you, either.”

“I can just…” you began, but Sarah cut you off.

“Mom,” she raised her brows. “You do not get to say ‘just’ anything about my wedding, come on.”

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled.

“Alright,” you put your hands up in surrender. “I’ve got the weekend off again in two weeks, I’ll get us a hotel room in Houston and we can shop til we drop.”

“I’m going to get you comfortable with spending some of those big surgeon bucks one of these days,” she said. “You need to treat yourself! Live a little!”

“I live plenty, thank you,” you replied. “And I do it just fine in my Goodwill jeans.”

“Whatever you say,” she smirked a little, flagging down the server and grabbing the bill before you had a chance to fight her on it.

Sarah might have had a point. You’d been an attending for the better part of a year now and the jump in pay had been staggering. You were making more now in a year than you had your entire life - or it felt that way, anyway. You’d already made good progress paying off your student loans but you made quick work of the rest. Joel had asked if you wanted to move - something bigger or better somehow - now that you could easily afford it but you’d just frowned at him, almost hurt.

“This is our home,” you said. “I fell in love with you here, Sarah grew up here, we made Evie here. This is the first place I ever really felt like I belonged, I don’t want to leave.”

Joel just smiled and kissed your forehead.

“Then we’ll stay,” he said. “Moving’s a fuckin’ hassle anyway.”

You’d just been saving money, not really sure what to do with it. You donated some of it, stopped spending time clipping coupons, finally bought a car that was from this decade (but still used). But actually spending it made you anxious. You’d never had money before. You weren’t poor, exactly. You’d always had enough to eat and a roof over your head but you almost never bought new clothes, had never really traveled outside of places that you could easily get to by car. You were pretty sure you’d never even been in a car that wasn’t at least 10 years old before you came to college and your friend Cassie gave you a ride to the store in her new BMW. It was hard to get used to the idea that money could be spent at all, that it wasn’t already earmarked for some bill or, if there was any left, that it had to be saved for a rainy day.

“You gotta actually spend some of that hard earned money on yourself, Baby,” Joel said as you headed outside to meet Sarah for your weekend in Houston. “Buy some ridiculously expensive dress that I’m gonna want to rip off you in seconds or some purse that’s $1,000 for reasons I don’t understand.”

“That’s two mortgage payments,” you said, eyes wide.

“Baby.”

“Right, right,” you nodded. “On a mission, spend money. Got it.”

“On yourself,” he added. “Not Sarah. Or not just Sarah, anyway. You two have fun.”

“You too,” you said, stretching up to kiss him goodbye. “Don’t let Evie con you into giving her candy when she gets home from school.”

“What wild thing and I get up to when you’re not around is none of your business,” he gave you one last peck on the lips. “Now go, stop worryin’, live a little.”

The mall in Houston was almost overwhelming. Not in the crowds way malls sometimes were for you, thank goodness, but with the kinds of stores. There were names you recognized from Cassie’s closet and from some of the trust fund girls in your med school program but you realized quickly you had no concept of what things like this actually cost.

Sarah picked a dress for the rehearsal that was nearly $600 and you choked on the champagne the sales person had given you to sip while Sarah tried on options.

“You really buy $600 dresses?” You gaped at her as you wandered back into the store from the dressing rooms.

“Not all the time,” she shrugged. “But we make good money and sometimes it’s fun to buy something nice.”

She held up a floor length gown to you, the bottom pooling on the ground.

“That’s too long,” you said.

“Well we’d get it tailored,” she laughed a little. “Come on, try it on.”

Another sales person wandered over and offered to set up a fitting room and you snuck a peek at the price tag. Your eyes went wide.

“That dress is $1200!” You whispered at Sarah as you trailed after the attendant.

“And it’s for my wedding,” she replied. “And don’t you have that gala thing every spring for work? You can wear it for that, you need a new dress for that anyway. Plus I’m the bride and I say you have to try it on. You can’t disappoint the bride.”

You sighed and went into the fitting room, feeling utterly out of place in your second hand Levis and vintage top you’d picked up on a shopping trip a few weeks back that felt much more your speed.

But the dress - outside of the length - looked like it had been made for you. The silk hugged your every curve, the neckline dipping just low enough to display just enough cleavage to be sexy but not so much that it would be scandalous. It was simple, no embellishments beyond the structure of the dress and the deep emerald green of the fabric. Normally you’d have scoffed at something so basic fetching such a high price but, now that it was on your body, you understood it. It was like you’d put on a work of art and, in doing so, become art yourself.

“OK you can’t laugh,” you said. “But I’m coming out.”

Sarah was waiting patiently in the little show room attached to your fitting room and you had to hold up the hem of the dress to not trip but she gasped all the same.

“Oh Mom,” her hand went to her mouth, her eyes wide. “You look incredible.”

“Yeah?” You asked, turning in the mirrors to look at yourself from every angle. “I don’t look like I’m playing dress up?”

“Not at all,” she spoke with almost a sense of reverence, looking you up and down. “You’re getting that dress. I’ll buy it for you if you won’t…”

“No, Sarah,” you protested but she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture before you had a chance to really realize what she was doing. “What was that for?”

“I’m sending this to Dad…” her voice trailed off and she took a sip of champagne just as her phone rang. She smirked and answered, putting it on speaker phone. “Speak of the devil. Hey old man, your wife is trying to tell me this dress costs too much.”

“I don’t care if that dress costs $200,000 she’s bringing it home,” Joel said. “She hear me?”

“Yes,” Sarah smiled, a shit eating grin if there ever was one.

“Good,” he said. “Baby, you look so damn amazing I’m about to jump in the truck and drive over there just to see you in that thing in person sooner. Save me a trip, bring it home, alright?”

“Alright,” you sighed.

“Didn’t quite hear that,” Joel said.

“I said alright you dork,” you said a little, grinning in spite of yourself.

“That’s my girl.”

You bought the dress. And a bag that Sarah insisted you needed for work because she was tired of seeing you haul around a canvas tote. And shoes for the dress.

When you passed the jeweler window, you were on the way to the car after spending so much money you were surprised you hadn’t fainted. You stopped, the hanger with the garment bag for the dress hooked in your fingers over your shoulder, and looked at the watch sitting in the window.

It was large and silver but not too ornate, no diamonds or anything like that. The face of the watch was black with elegant white roman numerals on the face.

“What?” Sarah asked, stopping next to you.

“Do you think your dad would like that?” You asked, head cocked a little, still looking at the timepiece through the glass.

“Yeah,” Sarah said after a moment. “Seems like a him watch, if he were going to wear a nice watch, anyway.”

Joel did already have a watch. A simple one with a green strap and silver colored case and a black face. You and Sarah had picked it out together for his birthday one year. She’d been giddy about it, you had to all but beg her to keep it a secret for a few days until it came time to give it to him. He loved the thing, wore it every day, even more than a decade later.

But your career wasn’t the only one that had advanced. Joel was no longer doing the manual labor of a contractor every day. More often than not, he was going to meet with clients and arrange contracts and make plans. For a lot of those meetings, he wore a suit and, for a lot of those meetings, you saw him stick his watch in his pocket before leaving the house instead of putting it on.

“Hard sometimes,” he said when you’d asked him about it. “Fittin’ in with these clients.”

“Let me just…” you doubled back to the entrance to the store and went inside.

The watch was more than you thought it would be. A lot more. So, so much more. You watched as the sale’s person’s eyes went from encouraging and hopeful to let down when you reacted to the price.

“One second,” you smiled sheepishly and pulled out your phone, going into your banking app. Even after spending an arm and a leg on yourself that day, the number in your personal checking account seemed obscenely high. More money than you’d ever had at once until very, very recently. You could afford the watch. You looked at the sales person and smiled.

“I’ll take it.”

You had several very strong cocktails when out to dinner with Sarah that night to make yourself feel a little better about spending thousands of dollars on things like clothes and a watch and she just smiled.

“See, Mom? You spent some money on yourself and the apocalypse did not happen, I think you can actually buy yourself things from time to time.”

“And things for your dad,” you said. “Because he needs nice things, too.”

When you got home, Joel insisted that you model the dress for him.

“It needs to be tailored,” you tried to protest.

“Not for me to take it off you it doesn’t,” he smiled from his spot on the couch, beer in hand.

“Fine,” you said. “But only if you let me model everything I bought and you can’t return any of it.”

“Deal.”

You went to your bedroom and put on the dress and the shoes and took the watch out of the bag, the face almost comically large on your wrist, before going back to the living room, hem of the dress in hand.

“Jesus Christ Baby,” he looked at you, his eyes wide. “You look… fuck me.”

“That is the idea,” you winked. “You like it?”

“Like is a fuckin’ understatement,” he said, getting up and walking around you slowly, his eyes going up and down your body. “You know, Evie’s at a friend’s for two more hours…”

“So you’re not going to make me return anything I have on?” You asked.

“Fuck no.”

“Not this dress?” You started unzipping the side before sliding the straps down your arms.

“Dress stays,” he said, gently tugging it down and exposing your chest, kissing the swell of your breasts.

“What about the shoes?” You asked, putting a sandaled foot out from below the hem. He glanced down, eyes ranging over the straps.

“Those stay, too,” he said, going back to kissing your chest. “Everything you’ve got on stays, already agreed to that.”

“Good,” you said as he made it to your neck. “Even this?”

You held up your wrist, the watch sliding down your arm.

He frowned, looking at it.

“Don’t look like you’re style,” he said. “But if it makes you happy, Baby, keep it.”

“Never said it was for me, Joel,” you smiled a little. You watched him piece it together, taking a moment for him to dawn on him.

“No,” he shook his head, looking from your arm to your face. “No, you were supposed to get stuff for yourself for a change not…”

“I did get stuff for me,” you said. “And I got this for you. Because you’re wearing suits more now and I wanted you to have the watch for that. So really, it is for me.”

He took your wrist gently in one hand, elbow in the other, tilting your arm this way and that to look at the watch in different lights.

“Baby, this…” he shook his head again. “This is too much, this is…”

“Not for you,” you cut him off. “Not after everything you’ve given me. This is not enough. But it’s a start. Besides, you said I got to keep everything I was wearing. You already agreed to it, Miller.”

“Baby,” he sighed.

“Joel,” you smiled a little. “You’re my husband. Let me give you something nice. Please.”

He brought the inside of your wrist to his lips and kissed you there, making your pulse flutter against his mouth.

“Already gave me the best thing there is,” he said. “Anything more feels like I’m stealin’ it.”

“Steal whatever you want, Miller,” you teased. “But you’re keeping the watch.”

Joel ended up wearing the watch often. Not as much as the Sarah watch - and he stuck with the Sarah watch for her wedding - but at least once a week for meetings where he needed to dress up for. Every time you gave him a little knowing smile and every time he rolled his eyes a little before kissing you goodbye. But you had yet to get him to accept anything like it in the years since, Joel trying to dodge everything every time you spent money on him.

So when his birthday was around the corner, you were bound and determined to get him something good.

“Anything you want for your birthday?” You asked as you, Joel and Ellie wandered around a street fair, meandering towards the car show. “Anything you want to do?”

“S’not like it’s a big one,” he shrugged. “Just 56. Would love to see all my girls, of course. Could use some new tongs for the grill.”

“Tongs?” Ellie said, brows raised. “Seriously? Old people are so WEIRD.”

“You know what kiddo?” Joel smiled a little, faking exasperation. “We’ll see how you’re doin’ when you’re pushin’ 60.”

“Ew,” she crinkled her nose and wandered to the first car in the row of vehicles on display. You laughed, strolling along with Joel until he stopped at a beautiful old convertible, giving a low whistle.

“What?” You asked.

“Just a pretty fuckin’ car,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly around it. “Always wanted one of these when I was a kid.”

“Yeah?” You asked, getting an idea.

“Neighbor had one,” he nodded. “Let me ride in the back once. Coolest fuckin’ car.”

He looked over every inch of the thing and Ellie caught up with you while he did, pouting a little as she leaned on the door of the car, her chin propped on her folded arms.

“I’m starving,” she groaned. “Can I go get some fries at least?”

“Sure,” you laughed a little, pulling some cash out of your pocket. “Grab me a lemonade, too?”

You watched as she went to the food stands and you and Joel moved on, walking slowly down the row of cars when Ellie caught up with you again, passing you the lemonade. Joel stole a fry from her cup.

“Hey!” She protested. “Go get your own!”

“Might have to,” he said, giving her a wink. “Back in a sec.”

You waited until he was out of earshot before you grabbed Ellie.

“Do me a favor,” you said. “That car we were looking at? The blue one? Can you go talk to the owner and find out what make, model and year it is?”

“I guess,” she frowned. “Why?”

“Because,” you said. “I found something your dad wants besides tongs.”

You went and stood in line with Joel, keeping him distracted while Ellie did recon. She took some pictures of the car and texted you all the information which you texted to Andrew as Joel drove home from the fair.

“Can you help me find this car?” You asked him. “One that’s for sale?”

“Becoming a collector?” He texted back.

“Joel’s birthday,” you added a smilie face emoji.

“Excellent,” he replied. “I’ll find you something, don’t worry.”

It took a few weeks but Andrew found the car. A blue 1967 Mustang Convertible that was being sold down in San Antonio. He went down with you to help you test drive it - you didn’t know a damn thing about cars - and you bought it on the spot.

“He’s going to freak the fuck out,” Andrew said, driving it home since you couldn’t drive stick. “Seriously, you might give the man a heart attack…”

You rolled your eyes but laughed all the same.

“I really hope he loves it,” you said, running your fingers over the dash.

“I’ll take it off your hands if he doesn’t,” Andrew smiled. “Just don’t tell Jess.”

Tommy agreed to store the car in his garage until Joel’s party at his house in two weeks and you were giddy as you drove home, feeling like a kid at Christmas as you tried to keep the car a secret.

By the time the party rolled around, even Ellie was excited and having a hard time holding it together.

“It’s really just a cookout at Tommy’s,” Joel said as the three of you piled in the car to head over. “Not sure why you two are actin’ like we’re going to fuckin’ Six Flags…”

“Tommy’s cooler than you,” Ellie said. “Nice to spend time with someone who isn’t a total dinosaur…”

“Alright, in the car kiddo,” Joel smiled and shook his head a little. “Can’t take you anywhere ’til seatbelts are on, let’s go!”

You texted Tommy that you were on the way and he responded with a picture of the car, shiny in his driveway with a big, red bow on the hood.

“He’s going to lose his mind, Kid,” he texted back. “Please tell Maria I want this same treatment when I’m old.”

“Better put in some work to deserve it, Miller,” you replied, smiling a little.

Joel parked on the street, frowning at the car in Tommy’s driveway.

“When the hell’d Tommy get a Mustang?” He got out, his frown deepening. You almost laughed.

“He didn’t,” you smiled, so big it was like your face was going to crack.

Joel looked confused for half a moment before his mouth dropped open in shock.

“No,” he shook his head. Ellie leaned between the front seats, grinning hugely, “No, no that’s… Baby. No.”

“Suck it up, old man,” Ellie smirked as Sarah and Brandon came out of the house, little Carson making a beeline for the car. Sarah and Brandon waved as Tommy and Maria joined them in the yard. Ellie pulled the keys out of her pocket and dangled them between you and Joel. He took them, staring at them in his hand for a second.

“Should take it before I do,” Tommy hollered and you laughed as you got out of the car and followed an almost dazed Joel toward the Mustang.

He walked, in awe, around the car twice.

“I…” he said but stopped, staring at the convertible for a moment. “I don’t….”

“Do you like it?” You asked, coming up beside him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Fuckin’ love it,” he said, immediately looking at you. “But Baby, this is too much, way too much, I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” you smiled up at him. He looked down at you, the awed expression still on his face. “After everything you’ve done for me? For us? Everything you’ve sacrificed, all the ways you take care of me and our girls? The life you gave me? Still not enough, Joel. Not for you.”

He pulled you tight to him and kissed the top of your head.

“I love you,” he said, his voice wet. “So goddamn much, Baby.”

Tommy set up chairs and a table in the front yard so everyone could sit near the car while celebrating Joel. He kept looking over at it in disbelief before looking at you with eyes filled with gratitude and wonder. You couldn’t remember the last time your heart felt quite so full.

You drove Ellie home, following slowly behind Joel in the new convertible.

“OK I know what this shit means,” Ellie said, gesturing between you and Joel after you got home, your husband clutching you to his side. “Try to keep it down and not be gross about it because ugh.”

“Was actually going to see if you wanted to take the car for a spin,” you smiled up at Joel. “Just you and me. Assuming Ellie will behave herself and actually go to bed at a reasonable time.”

“Anything to get away from whatever that is,” Ellie said, smiling a little as she went to her room. You laughed.

“So,” you said, once she closed the door to her room. You looked up at Joel, smiling. “Care to take me for a ride, Mr. Miller?”

He grinned.

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Miller.”

He took you through town slowly, down quiet side streets filled with sleeping people and past businesses that had closed for the night, until the two of you ended up at a large park on the edge of town where things were a little darker and you could see some of the stars.

“I can’t believe you got me a car, Baby,” he said, his hands running over the steering wheel. His smile was so big you could see it even in the dim light of the moon. “It’s really…”

“If you say it’s too much again, Joel, I will go and buy you a second one on principle.”

He laughed at that.

“I was gonna say it was the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said, turning to look at you. “Besides you and the girls of course.”

“Oh, of course,” you smiled.

He leaned in and kissed you gently.

“Not sure what I did to deserve you,” he said. “But I sure am grateful for it.”

Your kiss shifted and you started climbing over the center console, Joel taking a second to move his seat all the way back. You bunched your skirt around your hips and settled over him, kissing him harder, more eager.

“I’m pretty damn grateful for you,” you whispered against his mouth, his hands going to your hips. You ground down on him and he moaned, pressing his hard length up against you through his jeans. “And I think the birthday boy should get laid in his dream car.”

“Dream car,” he said, kissing you. “Dream woman.” He kissed you again. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday.”

You unzipped his fly as you kissed him and tucked your panties to the side, notching his cock against your entrance. He moaned as you sank slowly down onto him, taking all of him inside of you, savoring how he filled you.

You started slowly, just grinding him deeper into you as you kissed him, his tongue licking into your mouth.

“You feel fuckin’ amazing Baby,” he moaned, kissing down your throat until he reached your breasts, cleavage bared in your v-neck top. “Always feel so damn good…”

He was thrusting up into you, trying to set his own pace, and you decided to allow that, matching him stroke for stroke as he groaned below you. His hands ranged up your back, pawing at your shirt until be was able to raise it enough to slide below it and get at your skin with a satisfied moan. He clutched you close, so close that you could hardly move over him anymore. Instead, he fucked up into you, making you whimper and your channel tighten around him.

“C’mon Baby,” he grunted, voice strained. “Want you to come for me. All I want now is you to come for me, come all over me, fuck Baby…”

You bit down on his shoulder to keep quiet, the sounds of crickets and cicadas on the air as you came, your sex throbbed around him. You whimpered against him as you came down from your high and he kept working you, his grip on you tightening.

“Fuck Baby,” he gasped. “Feel too good, I’m gonna… fuck… I’m…”

He cut himself off with a groan, thrusting deep and filling you, his grip on you relaxing enough that you could sit up a little. You looked at him in the moonlight his eyes closed, a blissed out look on his face. You smiled a little, brushing his more unruly curls back from his forehead.

“I love you so much, Baby,” he smiled a little, eyes still closed.

“So I did alright for your birthday?” You teased lightly, his softening cock still buried inside you.

He laughed.

“Did perfect,” he tugged you close enough that he could kiss you again, careful to not push you back against the horn. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday, perfect fuckin’ woman, perfect fuckin’ wife.”

“Good,” you smiled, kissing him. “You deserve it, Joel. You deserve the world.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #joel miller smut #joel miller x oc

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

blue jeans n’Texas dreams | part 15

“I love you, and that’s all I really know”

A/N: another chapter in the books! I don’t want to spoil too much of what happens, so I guess you’re just gonna have to read and find out ;)

~word count: 8.3k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x horseback riding instructor f!reader

Summary: Joel and Tommy have a serious conversation, you and Joel talk things out and discuss the future of your relationship.

Warnings: smut, protected piv, dom/sub vibes, Joel is a whimpering mess, verbal consent, teasing, edging, denial of orgasm, sub! Joel, oral (f receiving) sex in public (on a bathroom sink) angst, panic attacks, discussion of relationship trauma, emotions, forgiveness, accountability, fluff, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is clover because you’re Joel’s lucky charm, (+18) minors dni!

main masterlist series masterlist playlist

Tommy Miller had only seen his brother have a serious meltdown on one other occasion; the night Joel came home to find his wife had up and left him and Sarah. The younger Miller brother almost didn’t know how to initially react when he found Joel crouched down against the side of his truck with his face buried deep into his hands.

“Joel?..” Tommy hesitantly asked as he crouched down in front of his older brother. “Hey man, what’s goin’ on? Do you wanna sit out here and let the skeeters get us, or do you want to sit in your truck?”

Joel wordlessly pulled himself up to his feet, refusing to make eye contact with his brother out of shame. Once Tommy unlocked the door, Joel quickly climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him.

Tommy took a moment for himself to mentally figure out exactly how he was going to approach this extremely tender situation. On the one hand, he understood why his brother was freaking out over the news he received from you. On the other, Tommy knew that he was going to have to knock some sense into Joel before he would have the chance to really spiral.

“Alright, before we get down into the nitty gritty stuff, you—didn’t just go and break up with her did you? Cus’ if ya did I’m gonna have no choice but to smack you upside the head.” Tommy asked as he pulled the driver's side door shut.

“I didn’t break up with her.” Joel murmured with his back facing the center console and his arms crossed over his chest in a protective stance.

“Well, ain’t that a relief.” Tommy responded with an exasperated sigh.

“At least..I don’t think I did. Oh god, did I? I just told her I needed some space to breathe and that we can talk when I’m ready. Does—does she think that we broke up? Fuck. I look like such an asshole right now! What the hell was I thinking?!”

“Woah woah woah. Easy there cowboy. Let’s not go and get ourselves all worked up, okay? Joel..can you look at me please? C’mon brother. I just wanna help you out here, but I can’t do that if your ugly mug is facin’ the other way.”

Joel grumbled out a response as he pushed himself as far into the corner of the seat that his broad frame would allow him to.

“Joel, c’mon. Ain’t gonna get much talkin’ done if you’re gonna be a little shit.” He gently placed his hand along his shoulder giving it a soft reassuring squeeze.

“I’m just terrified that this is all becoming too fuckin’ much for me to handle Tommy.” Joel responded with a deep sigh as he reluctantly faced his brother finally.

“..your relationship with Clover is becoming too much for you to handle? Brother, just this mornin’ you were goin’ on about how you want to marry her and that you want me to be the best man at your wedding.”

“Yeah and jus’ under 24 hours ago we confessed our feelings and had sex for the first time. Then this mornin’ we went at it like fuckin’ rabbits, and I brought up the marriage thing again. Then I find out that Sarah called Clover mom, and for fuck sakes Tommy, can’t I just feel for a minute?”

“Yeah, Ryder told me about how Sarah called Clover mom. So that’s what you’re really all freaked out about. Ain’t it?”

“Yeah.” Joel responded flatly.

“Alright well, how ‘bout you start off by tellin’ me what about this is freaking you out? I can make some educated guesses, but I’d rather you tell me.”

Joel responded with a huff as he sank back against the passenger seat, looking up at the weathered fabric ceiling. “Tommy, you and I both know that this is the first woman to get close to my daughter since—y’know. Not only that, but this changes the entire dynamic of our relationship.”

“How so?”

Joel looked over at his brother as if he had suddenly sprouted five heads. “How so? Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I have to now think about the idea of co-parenting with someone after raising Sarah primarily on my own? How about the fact that I have to think about finances, and living with a romantic partner? How about—”

Tommy cut him off almost immediately. “Now hold on just a minute here. You’re makin’ it sound like this is some terrible thing that has happened. Co-parenting? Clover moving in? Shared finances? Brother, these are all good and exciting things to think about.”

“Tommy, what if this is just movin’ too fuckin’ fast for me to keep up with? I’m scared that these inevitable changes are going to ruin the relationship I have with her. What if down the line she ends up not wanting to be Sarah’s step-mom? What if we break up and things get ugly? Tommy, I can’t go through that shit all over again. I can’t come home to another fuckin’ empty house with no explanation. I can’t have my heart fuckin’ ripped out of my chest again, because—because I love so fuckin’ hard.” Joel spoke exasperatedly as he vigorously wiped the tears that were beginning to stream down his face. His voice cracked, and his throat felt raw as he finally broke down into heavy sobs that had his entire body trembling.

Tommy was immediately reaching for his brother over the center console. He did his best to wrap Joel up in the tightest hug possible from the angle he was at. His heart was snapping in half right down the middle as he did his best to try and bring him back down to earth.

“Joel, hey..hey, big brother..Joel, it’s okay. You listen to me alright? It’s okay. I know you love so fuckin’ hard, and you don’t want your heart to end up broken and I can’t blame you for that, I really can’t. But now I need’ya to listen to me real good now. That woman upstairs? She loves you. She loves you and your daughter unconditionally. She’s a dime a dozen, and I have never seen you light up so much around someone before. Your eyes fuckin’ twinkle man. They twinkle! Relationships are hard. They’re scary, and complicated and easy to get caught up in. Change is hard too, but you’re one of the strongest fuckin’ people I know. You’re my big brother, for fuck sakes. You’re the person I’ve looked up to since we were little shits.” Tommy was holding back his own tears from falling as he held onto his brother tightly.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is that you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about with that one. She loves you, and you love her. She’s the best damn thing to happen to ya other than when Sarah was born. I don’t believe in all that soulmate mumbo jumbo crap, but y’all? Y’all got somethin’ fuckin’ real. Like that shit out of those cheesy romance movies that Sarah loves to watch. Besides, if y’all did break up? Man, I think I’d stop believing in love entirely.”

Joel was holding onto his brother equally as tight. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he didn’t have the privilege of having a brother that was so supportive of him. Tommy just always knew exactly what to say when it came to situations like these. “Tommy..” Joel began to utter softly, “I don’t have a goddamn clue what I would do without ya.”

“Oh, you shut the hell up. I will not be sheddin’ any tears tonight! Don’t go and sayin’ sappy shit like that or else I will cry Joel.” Tommy playfully threatened him as he slowly pulled back from the hug.

Both Miller brothers sat in silence for a few minutes, sans the crickets chirping their nighttime tune, and the occasional soft hoot of an owl in one of the pine trees surrounding the property.

“Tommy?..” Joel softly asked as he broke through the silence. “D’ya think..I should go in there and talk this out with her tonight? I–don’t want her goin’ to bed thinkin’ that we’ve broken up, or for her to think that i’m upset with her cus’ i’m not..and I just think maybe I should–” He was cut off by Tommy literally holding his hand up in the air to signal him to stop talking.

“No. I don’t think you should go and talk to her tonight. Now, before you go and get your panties all in a twist, lemme explain my reasoning. I know this pretty much goes against your nature..but you gotta give her some space tonight. Y’all just dropped the love bomb on each other yesterday, and then proceeded to fuck like bunnies for half the mornin.’ Not only that, but she’s probably g’nna spend the night with Ryder and have some girl time. Y’know pillow fights and scissorin’ each other. Girly stuff.”

“Tommy, I don’t think they’re fuckin’ scissorin’ each other. D’ya ever think with that pea sized brain of yours?” Joel responded with a light snicker.

“Will ya let me finish? Sheesh. As I was sayin’, I think that tonight you go in there and spend some time with your kiddo. G’on n’hug her real tight. Read her and El a bedtime story and then tomorrow morning, you and Clover can talk. You’ve put yourself through enough emotional turmoil today, big brother. Tomorrow is a new day, and I don’t need you thinkin’ yourself into a hole, alright? This is your Clover we’re talkin’ about here. Not Sarah’s mom, not any of the other women you’ve been with. You ain’t gotta stress, alright?”

Joel nodded his head begrudgingly because deep down he knew his brother was right. Talking to you tonight was not going to make the situation better. Tomorrow was a new day, and he just had to trust his gut feeling that everything was going to be okay.

“You’re right.” Joel muttered under his breath.

“What was that? I, Tommy Miller, is right about somethin’ for a change?” He had the biggest grin on his face as Joel reached over and lightly punched him in his bicep.

“Yeah, y’heard me. Don’t go and let it get to that already massive head of yours.” Joel teasingly warned him.

“Pshh.” Tommy replied with a scoff, “I would never.”

“Mhm. I ain’t too sure about that.”

When Ryder found you in the upstairs bathroom, her heart sank at the sight of you pruning up in the tub. Your knees were pulled up to your chest with your cheek resting against your kneecap. The water was room temperature at this point, but you didn’t have the heart, nor care to move. Maybe you might have been acting a tad dramatic, but even if that were to be true, there was no denying the present pain you were feeling in your heart.

“Oh, babe..That bad, huh?” Ryder softly spoke as she went to sit down on the edge of the tub.

“I just..I thought he would be happy..” Your voice was barely above a whisper as a stray tear rolled down your cheek.

“Honey, I'm sure he is. Guys can just be..well, weird sometimes. I’m sure Tommy successfully knocked some sense into his head, and then you guys will be able to talk it through tomorrow, okay?”

You let out a deep sigh as you lifted your chin to the side so you could briefly make eye contact with your best friend. “Do you..think i’m overreacting about this right now? Everything was fine until I told him about Sarah calling me mom this afternoon and then it was like something suddenly flipped in him. I was already nervous to bring it up to him because I know that it is a big deal, but I didn’t think it would..freak him out that much.”

“Clove, you’re not overreacting about this at all. I think it’s completely valid that you’re upset over how he reacted to the news. I would have felt the same way if I was in your position. From what Tommy has told me, Joel hasn’t had it easy in the romance department, and you’re his..first real girlfriend since Sarah’s mom left. I’m sure he is excited to take this next step with you, but I can also understand why he was feeling a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t had it easy, and the last thing I wanted to do was stress him out over this. I think what’s hurting me the most is he was so focused on the logistic changes, and not the sentimental value? I don’t know if that makes sense, but he immediately brought up the fact that I would have to move in, and us co-parenting and finances..it just took away from the moment y’know?”

Ryder gently reaches for your hand that is now resting along the side of the smooth porcelain tub. She interlocks her fingers through yours and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Clove, I completely understand where you’re coming from. If Tommy and I were in that situation, and he acted like that? I would be pretty hurt by it as well. Your feelings, and his feelings are valid. It’s all gonna work out baby. I promise. Now, let’s get you out of this tub and into some comfy pj’s and then you and I can snuggle all night? How’s that sound?”

You squeeze her hand back gently with a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips as you gaze up at your best friend lovingly. “You wanna snuggle all night with me? Just like old times?”

“Baby, of course I do. I can even ask Tommy if he can make us some tea?” She gently lets go of your hand and grabs a towel just as you're standing up from the tub. You’re shivering slightly from the slight chill in the air and being in lukewarm water for too long as she wraps the fluffy towel around your body.

“That sounds perfect.”

When Joel and Tommy return to the house Tommy could sense that his brother is torn about waiting to talk to you until tomorrow morning. The younger Miller shakes his head disapprovingly. Joel mutters under his breath as he saunters down the hall instead. He knows Tommy is right, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be stubborn about it.

He stops just outside Ellie and Sarah’s door that is half open. He can hear Ellie telling yet another ghost story from her book. Their girlish giggles are infectious as a warm smile graces his face. He knocks softly before gently pushing the door open.

“Daaad.” Sarah giggles as she playfully tosses her pillow at him. “What are you doing here? El was just getting to the best part!”

He catches the pillow with a soft chuckle. “Well, I was thinking maybe I could read to you girls tonight?”

“What about Clover?” Sarah softly asks as a frown slowly spreads across her face.

“Oh, she’s spendin’ some time with Ryder tonight. They need their girly time together y’know?”

Sarah and Ellie both look unconvinced by his answer, but agree nonetheless.

Ellie tosses him her book from the top bunk and he catches it with ease.

“You kids gonna make this old man climb all the way up there?” He muses with a gentle grin.

Both girls look at each other before giggling. “It’s not that high up, and you aren’t that old!”

Joel lets out an annoyed huff as he shakes his head. “Little shits. You’re lucky I love ya both so much.” He murmurs as he slowly climbs up the bunk stairs. “Move over and make some room.” He curses under his death when his head accidentally bonks into the ceiling of the top bunk.

When he finally gets situated, Ellie and Sarah are already snuggling up on either side of his shoulders as he opens up to the chapter Ellie left off on and begins to softly read. At some point, both girls doze off, and so does he with the book open and resting flat against his chest.

You’re the first to emerge from your bedroom the following morning. It’s half past 5 a.m when you throw on one of Joel’s sweatshirts and grab your book and pen before heading downstairs. Your footsteps are quiet as you don’t want to accidentally wake anyone up. You make yourself a fresh pot of coffee and head down to the dock. The lake is still with a gentle cloak of fog dusting across the surface as you sink down along the edge of the dock. Your legs loosely dangle above the surface as you languidly swing your legs back and forth. You scribble something down in your book as you finish up on the page you left off on. Your mind is at peace as you allow yourself to leave the present world and transport yourself into a fictional one.

It was around 7:30 when Joel had somehow climbed out of the top bunk without disturbing Sarah and Ellie. He bonked his head yet again as he quietly descended down the bunk steps. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he trudges down the hallway and into the kitchen. Tommy is up and leaning against the counter as he glanced out the kitchen window where he has a clear view of where you’ve been sitting for what he can infer has been a couple of hours.

Joel spots your sitting Silhouette at the end of the dock as he pours himself a cup of coffee. “Mornin’ Tommy. How long has..she been out there?”

“Mornin’ brother. Not sure. She was out there when I got up, so maybe for a couple hours?” Tommy responds with a shrug as he takes another sip of his coffee. “Y’gonna go out there and talk things out?”

Joel sighs as he sinks back against the otherside of the counter. “Yeah, I’m plannin’ on it. Kinda nervous if I’m bein’ honest. I don’t even know where to start..” he trails off with a deep frown painted on his lips.

“Good. You should be nervous. Being nervous means that you give a shit. If you walked up to her all confident n’shit, she wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at his brother's words. He was absolutely right. You would not appreciate him going in and acting like he didn’t fuck up last night. “Yeah, she wouldn’t appreciate that. I will say after you and I talked last night, I definitely feel a lot better than I did before.”

“I’m glad I was at least able to calm you down. I know it was really upsetting for you, but I’m relieved that you’ve come to your senses. You just gotta be raw and honest and talk it out. Let her know you’re sorry and that you want to work things out.” He reached over and gently gave Joel’s shoulder a squeeze. “Get on out there and make up with your girl, lover boy.”

Joel playfully pushed him away with a roll of his eyes. “Alright. Alright. I’m goin’ now.” He took another nervous sip of his coffee before he left the kitchen and slipped out past the porch door. His palms were sweaty as he slowly walked down the dock, and it felt like his heart was about to fall right out of his ass. He swallowed his pride as he slowly sank down along the dock next to you. He held the mug between his thighs as his feet dangled above the surface of the lake.

“What’re you readin?’” He softly asked you as he glanced over in your direction. He watched the way your eyes skimmed over the page you were currently reading. He was trying to detect any emotion on your face, but you were doing a pretty damn good job of hiding anything that you were presently feeling.

“Game of Thrones.” You curtly responded before gently closing the book between your fingers to hold the page down. “Book number three, A Storm of Swords.”

“I’ve only read the first one.” He admitted softly as he nervously adjusted his posture. He could already feel sweat beading up along the back of his neck and below his hairline.

Relax. Relax, Joel. You just need to let her know that you’re sorry.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Joel?” Your question was unexpected for both you, and him, but after reading about how deeply devoted Oberyn Martell was to his soulmate and lover, Ellaria Sand, you couldn’t help but ask if Joel believed in soulmates like you did.

“I think I do. Well, at least in some capacity I do. I think there’s definitely a person out there for everyone. I’ve uh—never researched the topic or anything like that.” He cleared his throat as he rested his one hand between your two bodies. “Why do you ask?”

“Oberyn Martell was devoted to his soulmate and lover, Ellaria Sand, who could produce him no legitimate heirs as she was born a bastard. Despite this, she blessed him with several daughters. Oberyn's demise is caused by his desire to avenge his sister Elia Martell who is brutally murdered by ser Gregor Clegane. Ellaria is desperate to change her lover's mind as she fears for his life, and he refuses to listen. Driven by his lust for revenge, he grows cocky during the duel and is murdered in front of Ellaria by The Mountain.”

Joel can feel his stomach churn with unease as he tries to piece together why you felt it was necessary to disclose this information to him. You could tell that he was deep in thought by the way his brows furrowed and his eyes shifted to the calm lake below. “Clove, what does this have to do with yours and I’s relationship?”

“I’m telling you their tragic story because it’s relevant to what we’re presently going through, Joel. If Oberyn would have listened to Ellaria’s concerns, he would still be alive. If they had come to a mutual agreement, he would have ultimately realized that his lust for revenge would be in vain. While this takes place in a fantasy realm, and we live in the real world, I just want us to..be able to communicate our feelings on a mutual ground. I want you to feel like you’re being heard, but I also want to feel the same for myself.”

Joel let out a soft breath as his shoulders relaxed and slumped forward. He nodded his head in agreement, letting you know that he was fully listening and understanding what you were explaining to him. “I understand. I want that as well..and I know that a relationship is not a one-way street. I don’t want our relationship to be like that. I want it to be a two-way street where we both are able to discuss and communicate our issues.”

You both fell silent for a moment before Joel grew enough courage to finally say what he needed to say. He turned his body so he was fully facing you. “Clover, I am deeply sorry for how I treated you last night. I let my emotions get the best of me and I know it hurt your feelings. I know that you were excited, and nervous to tell me that Sarah called you mom, and I’m sorry that..my reaction was different than what you were expecting. There are a lot of things I wish I had said differently last night, and I know you and I share our own forms of relationship baggage and trauma. I was focusing on the fact that everything in our relationship will inevitably change, and I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t ready for these changes or able to handle them. The last thing I wanted to do was make you feel like I wasn’t hearing you. That I wasn’t respecting the fact that you do have your shit together, and that you want to be more involved in my daughter's life. Truthfully? I was scared. I am scared. I’m scared because..I have gotten so used to raising my daughter on my own that I never thought of the prospect of settling down with a partner who I would co-parent with. I was so focused on the logistic changes that it clouded my underwhelming joy that Sarah loves you just as much as I do. That you have been more of a mother figure to her than her own mother has.” He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he waited for your response.

“Joel, I know that you’re scared. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t scared either. This is a huge step for me, as it is for you. You are the first man that I have ever thought about seriously settling down with. I know there are inevitable changes that are intimidating on the surface, but Joel, I want this life with you. I want all these changes. I want to move in with you. I want to get married and co-parent with you. Change is always going to be scary. It’s inevitably scary, but we can’t let our fears rule us. We can’t let them control our emotions and cause us to lash out at the ones we love most. Joel, we have all the time in the world. We can take these steps as slow, or as fast as we want. We can do everything at our own pace, our own comfort levels. If you’re not ready for me to move in just yet, that’s OK. I’m never going to shame you for your feelings, okay? Yeah, last night should have gone differently, but I need to apologize as well.” Your eyes locked on his as you slowly reached for his hand and interlocked your fingers through his and rested it along your lap gently.

“You’re..scared too? I didn’t know that you were. Well, that honestly makes me feel a lot better..but darlin,’ I want this life with you too. Even if it’s done in an unconventional way. It’s our relationship, and we can make it work however we want. I do need some time working through the idea of you moving in. Maybe to start we could do a couple sleepovers during the week? Just so Sarah can get used to you being in the house more. Maybe on the nights you sleep over, you can drive her to school and I can pick her up in the afternoon? Or vice versa? I know you usually have to be at the barn early, so we can plan a schedule out that works for the both of us. You’re right about change inevitably being scary. It’s scary as fuck honestly. I’ve struggled to not let my emotions rule me for years and I know that I have a lot I need to work on. I think our relationship has a strong foundation, and I wanna build up on that and make it stronger. Clover, you have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He reassured you.

“Of course I’m scared. Joel, I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t a little scared of the next steps in our relationship. I totally understand that you need some time with the idea of me moving in. We don’t have to jump the gun on any of this, but I think your idea to do sleepovers would definitely be a good way to start transitioning. We can work all those details out after this trip. I do however need to apologize because I reacted to some of the things that you said last night in a triggering manner. Joel, I know you didn’t call me baby to..take advantage of the situation and try and manipulate me, but past partners have used pet names on me during arguments to gain the upperhand. I know that’s not what you were doing, but I still reacted in the way as if you were doing that. Not only that, but I also acted like you were insinuating that I didn’t want to take this next step with you. I was pretty much putting words into your mouth and that wasn’t okay for me to do at all. For that, I am sorry. I’m working through my own issues and triggers everyday, but that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on you.”

Joel gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he gently swiped his thumb back and forth across the top of your hand in a soothing motion. “Clover, I completely understand why you reacted the way that you did. It was an inappropriate time for me to call you baby, and your reaction was valid. Honestly? I probably would have felt the same way if you called me baby or something when I was already getting caught up in my own emotions. I’m sorry that past partners used it in a malicious context. I would never ever do that to you, but now I understand why you were triggered.” He took a deep breath as he squeezed your hand once more. “We both made some mistakes last night, and we’re both holding ourselves accountable. I love you, and I am willing to do anything I can to make this work. Do you forgive me?”

“Joel, I know you would never do that to me. After you left the bathroom I thought about everything that was said, and how I chose to react. There’s so many things I would have done differently, but I also love you, and I am willing to do anything I can to make this work as well. Of course I forgive you. I know you were coming from an emotional state of mind and you held no malicious intent. We’re going to work through this together, okay? You and me.”

“You and me.” He confirmed as he scooted closer to you so your thighs were touching. His head tilted down as he rested his chin along the crook of your shoulder, nuzzling his face affectionately against your skin as his arm gently draped along your lower back so that you could lean up against him if you chose to. “Now, can you tell me more about this infamous Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand?” He mused in curiosity as he pressed a feather light kiss to the base of your neck.

“Well, he is very handsome. Might even be handsomer than you are.” You teasingly responded as you gently leaned back against the weight of his arm.

“Is that so? Well, I highly doubt that.” He teased back.

“They call him the red viper, and he has the nicest cock in all of Westeros. Men and women of all shapes, sizes, and colors beg to spend a night in his chambers.”

“Now you’re just fibbin’ darlin.’ Nicest cock in all of Westeros? Lemme see where it says that.” He’s grinning against your skin as he reaches for the book. Before he can grasp it, you're gently grabbing his chin and kissing him sweetly.

You and Joel spend all morning out on the dock until it feels like your skin is baking under the rays and you are left with no choice but to retreat back inside away from the powerful rays.

More egg jokes are cracked as everyone enjoys a late brunch at the kitchen table, and Tommy and Ryder silently decide that you and Joel deserve some privacy in the house to ‘properly’ make up.

Joel is visibly apprehensive as you take his hand and lead him up the stairs. His heart is thrumming wildly in his chest as he glances behind him momentarily. You already reassured him that Tommy and Ryder were going to take the kids out on the lake for a couple of hours so you and Joel could work things out in total privacy. There was an edge of tipping into the unknown when you practically dragged him to the bedroom. You talked things out and were able to reach a mutual understanding of one another but now?…he wasn’t sure what was about to happen.

“You’re not in trouble, Joel.” You reassured him shamelessly.

“Kinda makin’ it seem like I am.” He murmured as you dropped his hand and made yourself comfortable along the edge of the mattress, smoothing the comforter down with your hands.

“Take your cock out and get on your knees Joel.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand and you watched as your Texas tall glass of water blinked thrice. It was as if his brain was rewiring in a panic because you had never spoken to him in such a demanding tone. He secretly liked it.

“You want me to do what?” He asked in disbelief. Eyes in an innocent almost doe-like gaze.

“You heard me, Miller. Take your cock out and get on your knees. Now.” You raise your eyebrow in his direction challengingly.

His mouth has seemingly gone dry as he blubbers like a fish. He’s obedient however as he’s already reaching for his cotton shorts and pushing them down his thighs. His cheeks are flushed beet red as he can already feel his cock twitch in his briefs.

“Take it out, Joel.” You cross one leg over the other as you wait impatiently.

He lets out a visible puff of air as he grabs the hem of his boxer briefs and tugs them down his legs, kicking them off to the side. His cock springs free and you can’t help but smirk at how hard he already is.

“On your knees. C’mon and be a good boy for me baby.”

He sinks down to his knees like an obedient dog on a leash. His ears pathetically perk up to the sound of you using a pet name instead of his birth name.

“Good boy.” You praise him as you curl your fingers in a come hither motion in the air “Now, crawl to me.”

If he wasn’t so disgustingly in love with you, he probably would have scoffed at your demand and mutter out a ‘fuck no I ain’t doin’ that.’ He wanted to be a good boy for you, so he placed his palms down along the plush carpet and crawled to you.

You were already removing your sleep shorts and panties by the time he had reached you. You leaned over and grasped his chin between your fingers and tilted his head upwards so he was looking up at you. “I’m going to tell you how this is going to go, okay? You really hurt my feelings. I forgive you, and I love you, but I’m going to punish you in a way that is still enjoyable for both of us. If you wish to tap out, I will obviously respect that and won’t push you if you’re not comfortable.”

Joel’s pupils are blown out wide as he gazes up at you. “You ain’t gonna whip me..are ya? That’s uh—that’s where I draw the line.” He nervously asks as his cock shamelessly twitches between his thighs.

You can’t help but giggle as you shake your head, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone gently. “No baby. I’m not going to whip you. I’m going to play with myself and you get to watch. You can’t touch me, but you can touch yourself only in the way I tell you to do so. Most importantly? You can’t cum.”

Joel can’t help the pathetic whimper that slips past his lips as he leans into your soft touch as if he’s been deprived of affection and he’s desperate for it. “Fuck. That’s hot. I can’t touch you at all?”

“No. You can’t touch me at all, but you can get as close to my pussy as you’d like.”

His eyes roll back into his skull as his heavy cock twitches once more between his thighs. “Okay.” He murmurs in agreement.

You give his cheek a gentle loving tap as you lean down and steal a quick kiss. “Good boy.” You release his face gently before spreading your thighs open along the mattress. You reach behind you for one of the pillows and tuck it under your back so he has a better view of just how wet you are.

His mouth falls open when you lick your fingers before dragging them down between your thighs. He’s pathetically mesmerized by the way you shamelessly begin to play with yourself. He scoots himself as close to the edge of the mattress, locked in a trance as he rests his cheek along the comforter right between your thighs. His eyes are glazed over in utter, lustful, pathetic stupidity. They’re glued to the spot between your legs as drool begins to drip down the corner of his mouth and dribble down his chin. He’s yearning for a fucking taste and you’ve barely started to touch yourself. “ya know for such a big hearted lil lady you sure can be fuckin’ mean” he murmurs, whimpering at the sight of you glistening in arousal.

“I know, baby. You just have to be a good boy, and then I’ll reward you.”

He licks his lips as he slowly gazes up at you from between your thighs. He lets out a frustrated puff of air as he rubs his cock against the side of the mattress for some form of relief. “Can I touch myself, please baby?” He whimpers desperately.

“Yes, you can, baby. I want you to slowly wrap your hand around yourself first.” You request as you rub your clit in slow circles, lips parting open as your thighs fall open further.

Your Texas tall glass of water obeys as he slowly wraps his hand around the base of his cock. He’s so hard in his hand, it’s nearly painful.

“Good boy. Now, slowly twist your wrist. You can squeeze a little, but not too much.”

He pathetically whines as he slowly begins to pump and twist his wrist around his length. His face is so close to your pussy. So close that he can nearly taste you on his tongue.

“Don’t even think about it.” You tut as his tongue darts out for a quick taste. “Don’t be a bad boy.”

He breathes out a heavy puff of air through his flared nostrils and it fans your core deliciously as your fingers dip down and gather up your wetness. He lets out a shuddered breath when two of your digits slip inside your warmth. The squelching sound your pussy makes is nearly too much for him to handle as his freehand fists at the comforter, knuckles stark white as he continues to pathetically jerk himself off. His knees ache, his back aches, but he doesn’t care. He’s never been so fucking humiliated and turned on at the same time in his life.

“Please. Please let me taste you. Baby, please. I’m so sorry. I’ll never—never hurt your feelings again. Your pussy needs me darlin.’ She’s weepin’ for me. You’re killin’ me slowly ov’here. Please. I’m fuckin’ beggin’ you.”

He’s a blubbering mess as tears begin to roll down his cheeks. His words stumble out of his parted lips like word vomit. “Please. Please. Please. Clover, baby. This is fuckin’ torture.”

His pleas only seem to spur you forward before you’re ultimately giving in. You slip your fingers out slowly before tangling them in his scalp. He wastes no time to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking greedily as he murmurs ‘thank you baby.’ Over and over again with a mouthful of your pussy.

It’s late afternoon when Tommy, Ryder, and the girls come back from being on the lake for the majority of the day. The girls are visibly exhausted as they head to their room for a quick nap while the adults play a round of poker at the kitchen table. You and Joel are glowing from the inside out as you play footsie under the table like a couple of teenagers.

By 7pm everyone is piled up in Joel’s truck to head out for an excursion. He already told Tommy earlier in the week that it would be fun for everyone to go out for a sunset trail ride, so he found the nearest ranch to the lakehouse, and booked it without a second thought. It was a short 20 minute drive to the ranch and as soon as you passed by a field of horses grazing peacefully, you looked over at your boyfriend with a smile that lit up like a damn Christmas tree.

“How did I know that this little excursion that you have planned was going to involve horses? How did I know?” You asked with a grin. He replied with a little shrug of his shoulders and sheepish grin. “Jus’ figured we’d all enjoy a lil’ sunset trail ride before hittin’ the town for some good ole dancin.’”

Ellie and Sarah, who were smushed in the middle seats between Tommy and Ryder, both looked at each other before whispering in unison, “Yep. They’re soo twitterpated.”

Joel and Tommy looked like proper cowboys in their white tees and blue jeans that did absolute wonders for their thighs and ass. They both were sporting their cowboy hats as well. Man, you were gonna climb your Texas tall glass of water later like a damn tree. Once your horses were saddled up, you and Joel took the lead at the front as your horses calmly walked side by side along the marked trail. You held onto the reins with one hand while the other was outstretched towards Joel. He interlocked his pinky with yours as he looked over at you. “Did I ever tell ya that the sunset really brings out the color of your eyes? Man, are you jus’ stunnin.’” He’s grinning from ear to ear as you feel cheeks begin to get hot from his comment.

“Hmm..I believe you have. At least a dozen times at this point, baby. Have I ever told you just how fantastic your ass looks in a pair of blue jeans? You’re looking like an absolute snack this evening, honey.” You shoot him a playful wink.

He playfully fans his face with his freehand. His eyes squint under the soft glow of the fading sun as he chuckles. “Nah. I think this is the first time you’ve ever given’ me a compliment like that darlin.’ Does my ass really look that good? Snack worthy? Well, lil’ lady, that’s a mighty fine compliment. I am deeply flattered.”

“Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert worthy baby. I will be taking a little nibble on it later tonight.”

He blushes a deep shade of red as he looks away from you bashfully. It’s a good thing the kids are far back enough that they can’t detect yours and Joel’s disgusting flirting. “Jus’ a nibble?” He looks back over at you with the tips of his cheek still as red as a fire hydrant.”

“More like a bite than a nibble”

“Atta girl.”

The sunset is absolutely stunning. The sky is painted in a brilliant hue of pinks, purples, and oranges. The colors fade together like a watercolor painting. You and Joel are still holding pinkies when Ryder takes her camera out from her bag. She snaps a picture of the two of you looking over at one another lovingly.

The ride back to the ranch is equally peaceful and you make it back just before the sun has completely disappeared from the sky. Sarah and Ellie insist on giving their horses a well deserved carrot and brush down. The ranch owner ends up taking a group picture of the six of you and your horses.

You’ve never actually attended a proper ‘hoedown’ till now and boy, did you wish that you’d gone before. The barn where the dance was held was properly lit up with twinkling fairy lights along the wooden ceilings and panels, and a disco ball glittered brightly in the middle of the dance floor. Every attendee was dressed in some form of country attire to fit the theme. There was a bar area and food station, and the girls immediately filled up on kiddy-cocktails paired with burger and fries.

When the music started Joel wasted no time to pull you up from your seat so you could dance together. You’re both out of breath by the fifth song but man, you’re having so much fun you can’t even feel the ache in your feet or your heart pounding out of your chest. You're both filled with bright smiles and echoing laughter as a new country singer named ‘Blanco Brown’ takes the stage and performs his new song called ‘The Git Up.’ It's got all the classic country flare with a pop vibe mixed in. There’s even a choreographed dance to go along with it. Joel nearly eats shit on the last couple of spins but you’re right there to keep him steady as he twirls you around.

Even Ellie and Sarah are swinging each other around in a circle.

There’s not one frown in sight. Just smiles, laughter, and good music.

At some point you and Joel disappeared into the bathroom. He was smart enough to lock the door behind him so no one would interrupt. Your infectious giggles quickly turned into moans as he took you up against one of the bathroom sinks. Your own cowboy hat nearly falls off your head from how hard he is thrusting into you while you’re gripping onto either side of the sink for dear life. His freehand that isn’t presently grasping your hip, is gently placed over your mouth to block out your high pitched moans. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Or else we’re gonna get caught red handed. You didn’t think that I was actually gonna let you get away with your little game earlier, did ya?”

All you can do is shake your head as you cry out against his palm.

He’s a total gentleman after fucking you, so it comes as no surprise when he uses a wad of toliet paper to gently clean up the mess between your thighs before he fixes your dress for you. He kisses your lips sweetly as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and you reach up to interlock your fingers as you exit the restroom.

“Did you just—” Tommy raises a brow in yours and Joel’s direction as you approach the table he and Ryder are sitting at.

“Fuck in the women’s bathroom?” Joel finishes the question for him. “Absolutely not. That would be downright un-American, brother.” His subtle wink says otherwise.

It’s a little before eleven when you all arrive home. Everyone is doing their own thing as the energy from dancing all night begins to wind down. Joel finds Ellie out on the wrap around porch with one of Joel’s guitars resting across her lap. She’s messing with the strings when he sinks down alongside her on the outdoor couch. “Y’need some help, kiddo?” He can hear you and Sarah through the open window near the kitchen, mumbling about how stupidly difficult this puzzle is, and why won’t these pieces just fit? He can’t help the smile that washes over his face knowing that everything was going to be alright after all.

“Oh, hey Joel. Yeah..would you mind? I’m just not very good at this.” Ellie responds softly with a defeated sigh.

“El, that ain’t true. Y’jus’ need a bit of practice is all.” He murmurs softly.

The younger girl lets out a soft huff as she looks over at him. “Can you teach me then? I don’t even know where to start.”

“Course I can, kiddo. I’d love to teach you.” Joel wraps his arm around her in a gentle squeeze

Ellie’s eyes softly light up as she leans into his comforting touch, resting her head against his shoulder. Joel loves Ellie as if she were his own, and in some ways she is. He knew that her life at home wasn’t the best, but he didn’t know the full extent of her situation. What he did know is that he cared for her, and he’d be there for her no matter what. By the end of the night Ellie had learned a few chords and how to properly tune the strings on a guitar. Joel loved every second of being able to teach her.

After the girls were tucked in and Joel was finally back in bed with you, he found himself being the big spoon as he wrapped his body around yours.

“Whad’ya think about adoptin?’” He softly asks as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your head.

“Is this hypothetical or something that you’re seriously thinking about?” You respond softly as gently grab his hands and bring them up to your lips, kissing his knuckles affectionately.

“Hypothetical..but it could be serious. It’s jus’ that Ellie’s folks are hardly ever around. She’s pratically fendin’ for herself, and it ain’t right. She’s just a kid.” He murmurs as he buries his face into your neck.

“Do you love her like she’s your own?”

“I do.” He softly confirms as he inhales your natural scent through his nose, followed by a soft exhale.

“Then I say..we should look into it.” You press another gentle kiss to his knuckles as you snuggle further back into his warm grip.

“Okay, you and me?”

“You and me, baby.”

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byaahrs · 30 days

Text

Locked up with Rafe Cameron

Warning! If you still haven’t watched season 3 of Outer Banks, and you’re planning to soon, I advise you not to read this fanfiction, as it could contain major spoilers of that season.

Word count : ~3000 SFW From Aahrs, Love ! 🌴🌺🌴

Contextualization : Rafe Cameron had been keeping you locked in his house for days. Basically, he was using you — a friend of Sarah’s — to gather valuable information about the Pogues and their upcoming plan. Ever since they had met in South America and discovered El Dorado, Rafe was furious; the only person he ever cared about - and above all, the only one he admired - had just passed away. Indeed, his father, by trying to save his daughter Sarah, died, Rayan’s bullet passing through his heart. And even though he was trying to hide it as best he could, Rafe found himself shaken. Traumatized to say the least. As payback, he had taken you, the first Pogue whom he got his hands on. While waiting for your friends to come and save you from him, you had to obey him. But most importantly, you had to be wise. After all, in the past, Sarah had told you about her brother's wild and cruel nature; Rafe was mentally unstable. One wrong move, and he could easily end your life. If you wanted to live, you had to play it safe.

Behind your kidnapping, Rafe had one goal in mind : kill each of the Pogues to avenge Ward Cameron and save his honor. At the beginning of your captivity, he did not even want to speak to you. In his eyes, you were literally disgusting. If he dared talk to you, it was only to throw insults and threats, when he had drunk way too much. However, as the days passed, certainly very alone in the world, he became more inclined to conversation. While you thought you could get out of this unfortunate situation by creating a bond - a sincere friendship - with him, one night, you heard him talk to Topper in the living room opposite to your bedroom. In order to hear their words correctly, you put your ear against the wall. And when you finally got to perceive them correctly, you let out a gasp. Rafe had just sworn to kill you if you did not reveal the location of the Pogues quickly.

Although you knew he was insane, you were no less shocked. Just when you thought you and he were beginning to get along, he was betraying you. But it was your fault, and yours only. Why would you believe the guy who abducted you in the first place ? Between you and Rafe, maybe you were the most insane.

That evening, panicked, you couldn't sleep. You thought about the discussion of Topper and Rafe all night. One single solution presented itself to you; if you cared about your life, you’d have to kill him before he had a chance to come after you.

Locked up

Out of breath, it felt impossible to calm the pulse of your pounding heart. What had you done ? You raised your head slowly, to estimate the situation. You peeked at Rafe, who was already staring at you in a hostile manner. Standing, he was not moving an inch. From afar, he did not even seem to be breathing. He was like a corpse in the middle of the room; pale. Livid.

“Damn”, you muttered quietly to yourself. You knew. You knew you had just signed your death warrant. It was only a matter of seconds before Rafe caught up the distance that separated the two of you, and chocked you with his massive thick hands. At the thought of his grip tightening your neck, you swallowed. Rafe was impulsive. He only reacted out of emotion, even more when he was angry. Yes, it was very likely that he ended up strangling you.

Picturing that was not very clever of you. Even though you were already trying to calm down, this thought doubled your anxiety. Your heart was henceforth beating so hard against your chest that you were physically suffering. At this point, it was so loud you wouldn't even be surprised if Rafe, at the other end of the room, could hear it. It was like dying of fear. You were feeling nauseous. Fortunately, the lack of food in your stomach kept you from vomiting. Indeed, you had nothing to throw up but acid.

Although the last few seconds had passed like hours, Rafe startled you when, in a sudden and beastly gesture, he hit the vase of flowers to his right. He picked it up, and then crushed it on the floor against the hard and cold tiles. The sound of it breaking was bitter. But compared to the tone of his voice, it was nothing.

“Is that how you want me to react?” Rafe yelled violently.

His words were vibrant with scorn and anger. You could have heard him from outside. He took a step forward.

“Because that is the impression you’re giving me” he continued.

What were you supposed to say in return ? No, instead, how were you supposed to react to that ? At first, indifference seemed to be the best option. That was until Rafe screamed once again.

“Don’t you dare stay silent! Answer me!”

The vehemence in his tone forced you to face reality: at this very moment, you were so vulnerable. You were nothing more than a hungry young woman, in a room she didn’t know. In a house she didn’t know. If you tried to escape, Rafe, near the frame, would easily stop you. He would grab your wrist before breaking it in a second. The worst part of it was that he wouldn't feel remorse afterwards.

If you tried jumping over a window, you would also miserably fail. Despite the fall - if your legs were intact, which already seemed impossible -, you would not know where to go to escape from the neighborhood. How would you find the Pogues without your phone? You didn’t even know the way to John B’s house. Or Kiara’s. Rafe would always be one step ahead of you. Even though his father had passed away, he still had Ward’s last name, he was a Cameron. And with it came the benefits. The contacts. One call would be enough to find you and exterminate you for good. Yes, you had no doubt about it; you were trapped with him for good.

To you, it felt atrocious to admit it, but in any case, you would get killed. Wherever you may go, whatever you decided to do, it was over for you. Especially since you had nothing left to protect yourself. If you’d been a little smarter, you might have survived his fists. But no, you had to break your only useful weapon, which now, had become totally useless. What was a knife without its blade ? A minute ago, when Rafe had entered your room in the middle of the night, you literally panicked. Hearing the door crack, the steps approaching the bed… More and more… It had been awful for you. Since you caught his discussion with Topper, you had been making a knife in your spare time, behind Rafe’s back. It had not been no small task. However, with the help of several elements in the room, you had succeeded.

So when you heard Rafe lean towards you, that night, you turned around to jump on him. Unfortunately, you couldn’t even make a move that he broke your weapon in half. As if he had planned each of your actions.

Seriously though, what was going through your head at that moment ? Did you really think you could have gotten rid of Rafe Cameron, the boy who had chased the Pogues to the other side of the world ? It was stupid. You were so stupid, to go after him. For thinking you actually had a chance to beat him. Anf from now on, you would have to face the consequences. Even after your death, you would regret that night.

“No.” You wanted your answer to be simple, only because you did not know what to respond. “Because you deserve it.”

Rafe’s eyes slowly widened. In fact, he was as astonished as you were. Where did you get the strength to come up with such a response ? The nerves you had !

The moment you opened your mouth, you regretted it. In one simple step, Rafe swallowed the few inches that separated you from him. Good job ! Thanks to your answer, the little sense of security your had — if any remained at all — just disappeared for good.

Rafe was making you shiver, and in the wrong meaning of the word. He was unbelievably big… Much taller than you, he made you feel dominated. It was like you were a thing he was toying with, and it scared you to death. Fear had paralyzed you, prevented you from raising your chin again and challenging him. You could not physically face him by looking at him in the eyes.

However, on the contrary, Rafe did not stop devouring you with his eyes. As if he was looking one last time at his prey before eating it, you could feel his gaze burning your skin. His heart throbbed intensely too. The attack you had planned on him must have startled him. Right ? He was sulking; taking in deep breaths, so deep that you could clearly hear them. Was it intentional ?

“You saw what I did to that vase a second ago, right ?” Rafe asked.

And again, you couldn’t react.

Hoping he could force you to reply, Rafe imprisoned your jaw with his venous hand. If he lifted it a little high, he could have blocked your mouth without any difficulty.

“...I must have heard you wrong. What did you just say?”

“Yes, I have seen what you’ve done, Rafe.” Your voice was getting increasingly weak.

“Well I could do a thousand times worse. To you.”

That was it. It was the end. Rafe was going to tighten his grip until he blew your face out.

You chuckled nervously. “Really?”

Rafe gave a simple laugh. A hearty, loud laugh. A bitter one too. As if you suddenly regained your assurance, you scanned the room from left to right. You were looking for a shelter, an object that would allow you to face Rafe without putting yourself in danger.

Not knowing how, Rafe guessed your intentions the second your gaze left his. Cursing, he grabbed your arm aggressively. It was so painful that a guttural sound escaped your throat.

“Now, tell me where the fucking money is!” Rafe barked, furious. “I’m running out of time. And out of patience.”

Just like a dog, he showed the fangs.

“Let go of me!” you shouted.

If Rafe thought you would help him by betraying the Pogues, he thought wrong. Even if it meant being severely hurt, you would remain faithful to your friends.

“You know you’re risking your life here, don't you? If you don’t want to end up like Peterkin, speak up!”

“I have no idea where they might be now. They haven’t tried contacting me again.”

You were lying and Rafe knew it.

“Bullshit!” he muttered stormily.

He gave you a skeptical look. It was amazing how cold and sharp his blue eyes could be sometimes. You wondered: was there a time when they were nothing but caring? Warm, perhaps? God, what were you thinking! While you fantasized about him, the guy was choking you! Rafe only knew nonchalance and vehemence. Comparing him to a nice guy was like comparing a cat to a dragon.

Rafe then knelt to the ground and picked up the small blade. As he was scrutinizing it, he laughed. “Is that what you tried to fuck me up with?”

You let your gaze fall on him. You were too embarrassed to respond.

“Impossible,” Rafe whispered, truly taken aback. “Don’t you see there’s a high difference in size and power between the two of us? Even if I hadn’t countered your attack, I wouldn’t have been badly hurt. What were you expecting, seriously?”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you. I just wanted to hurt you enough for me to get away.”

Skeptical, Rafe frowned.

“Are you hysterical?”

“See that blood stain on your cheek? The only one hysterical here is you.”

Teeth clenched, Rafe gawked at you, which sent shivers down your spine.

“If you want to shoot me, go ahead," you shouted. "Do it, Rafe! Quickly! I don’t understand why you want to steal this money so much, since you are rich, but whatever! Why is it so interesting, in your view? For little money, you’ve gone this far. Killing people, causing disasters… You even destroyed a historical gem, the Cross of Santo Domingo! And now, you’re going to finish off the girl you took captive. Great. What an achiever.”

“Even if you tried, you would never understand.” Rafe grunted in reply. “Don’t speak to me that way. The Pogues killed my father. The real monsters, here, are by your side. Not mine.”

After he reluctantly mentioned the death of Ward, which was his trauma, Rafe’s forehand began to drip with sweat. “I had to prove to him that I was a son he could be proud of.” he explained, more sincere than ever. “All I did was in order to please him. Satisfy him. I had to become an improved version of him. But all he ever saw was Sarah. All he ever found himself concerned about was Sarah’s fate, not mine! Still, I tried. And these Pogues… they… they killed him. Sarah, his beloved daughter, had its part in the crime. She betrayed me. She betrayed my father, and for that I will not forgive her!”

The grip of his hand around your arm became firmer. At this point, his nails were so deep in they were scratching your skin. Rafe seemed more tense than annoyed. When he spoke again, his voice sounded so weak, so fragile, that you had to focus on it to hear it.

“That's why… you have to tell me where the Pogues are. For me, for my father.”

Despite the emotion of the moment, you stayed lucid. Not wasting time before Rafe snapped, in a sudden gesture, you managed to push him back. He stumbled and fell to the ground. You tried to run in the corridor, but because of Rafe’s hand finding your tibia, you were forced to stop.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he roared. “Stop!”

When he said that last word, you picked up the blade. Yes, the one you found useless a minute ago. Yet, it was your only weapon, a way for you to defend yourself against the psychopath who had been wanting to kill you for days.

“What is it like to be in the position of victim?” you asked while you toyed with it.

Riled up, Rafe struck the air with his fist. A blow hit you, you endured it. The adrenaline that flowed in your veins helped you greatly. As you knelt and were about to stab Rafe in the trachea, you interrupted.

What the hell were you doing?

As if you had been burned, you broke free of Rafe’s grip. You could have killed him. One second too late, and you would have cut short the life of another human being. No matter how rotten he was, Rafe did not deserve that. You could have become a monster, and that thought terrified you.

“Why…”

A feverish voice had come to you. You turned back. Unlike before, Rafe was not looking at you proudly, but wept.

“Why did you try to attack me?”

Your eyes widened in shock. The pinch you felt in your heart was scarier than everything you experienced until then.

“Don’t play dumb,” you said. “I knew about your plan. I caught you talking with Topper.”

“So you heard nothing! He persuaded me not to kill you. Clearly, I shouldn’t have listened to that asshole. Anyway, he never gave good advice.”

“So it took a friend's words for you not to kill an innocent woman? You pretended to get close to me and stab me in the back. That’s supposed to be the victim’s technique. Didn't know you were such a coward."

You wanted to be sure of yourself. Unfortunately, the trembling voice that came out of your mouth proved otherwise.

“No!” he defended himself. “I was saying something offhand. I wasn’t seriously going to kill you. Are you stupid? In order to reach out to the Pogues, I have to keep you alive and well.”

Then Rafe looked at you.

“When I came into this room, I just wanted to tell you…”

“What is it ?”

“I want you to stay. There, with me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

As you waited for him to carry on, time stood still.

“We’re having a good time together, aren’t we?” he asked.

Without being able to talk, the words were cluttering in your mouth. Rafe was a professional at leaving you stunned. What was he on about ? Complicity ? You just thought he was going to kill you!

To fill the heavy blank, Rafe continued. “I… I’m lost. I don’t know where Rose went. After she stole all the money, she flew off to some fucking country, and she didn’t even try to contact me. As if I wasn’t worth her time... And as for Topper, he’s not a real friend whom I can count on. He would rather save Sarah than me. I have no one, and I feel so alone... At least, even if you are a Pogue, having you here is my only company. It gives me someone to talk to, someone to take care of, and I want that to stay that way. With you by my side, I feel useful.”

“We could have been friends,” you replied. “Whether you kept me away from my friends or not. You didn’t need to go to such an extent! Who would want to befriend you after this?”

“I don't like Pogues. Even if you consider yourself one, you’re more like me, a Kook, because of your rich parents. You have to admit it… You just can’t leave.”

“That is not how you maintain a healthy and stable friendship, you know ? Also, you are aware that I am friends with Sarah. You’re criticizing Topper, but in a certain way, I’m the same as him.”

“Sure. But you weren’t there when they killed Ward. You joined later. Besides, until then, you were the nicest to me.”

Again, you were lost at sea. How could Rafe go from one emotion to another so rapidly ? Before you could escape the house, he pulled you to him and you fell on his lap. His eyes, hungry, went from your eyes to your mouth. You knew what he was going after. You could have pulled away, but no. Instead, you stayed there.

Rafe leant towards you, sealing his lips to yours. Just like him, it had a bitter taste. It was like kissing grapefruit, wet and sour. As the sound of guilt came ringing to your ears, you became more stiff.

Before he locked you up, how many times did you fantasize about Sarah’s brother? More than once, that was for sure. And for that reason only, you gave in.

Damn, he was such a hottie.

You can find me on : Instagram : byaahrs Wattpad : ByAahrs

Thank you for reading <3!

From Aahrs, Love ! 🌴🌺🌴

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