#outer banks reader insert

[obxsummer]

Gut Feeling // The Pogues

as john b's younger sibling, it was your job to make sure he didn't do anything too stupid. when he leaves with ward to go on a fishing trip, you find out just how cruel the cameron family can be... little did you know john b was finding out the exact same thing.

john b x gn!sibling!reader, platonic!pogues

warnings: the usual shitty cameron parenting, verbal threatening, no use of y/n, tried to keep things gender-neutral but let me know if I missed something!

a/n: sorry if things are out of character, I couldn't really find a way to make this flow the way I wanted. thanks for your patience with this request anon!

navigation 

--

John B getting pushed off the Hawk’s Nest was definitely not on your bingo board for this year. Ward Cameron offering to be your legal guardian on top of that wasn’t even a thought in your mind. So what the hell was going on?

Your bond with your older brother, John B, was unshakable. Only a year separated you in age, yet your connection ran much deeper than that. You were best friends as kids, guardians of each other's secrets, and steadfast anchors in each other's lives. Everything only became more intense when your father disappeared. 

Sharing friends was expected, as well as the fact that where there was one of you, the other wasn’t far behind. Everyone in OBX knew the Routledge siblings traveled as a pack alongside their friends. 

Topper shoving John B off the ridiculously tall spot created more than just sprained joints and concussions. Sarah told her dad, and to your dismay, Ward Cameron, was suddenly in front of you, offering to be your legal guardian.

The offer hung heavy in the air as the older man dismissed himself for the two of you to take some time. The expression on your face must have said everything since John B instantly tried to assure you. "Listen, I know you're skeptical, but we're running out of options here. Ward can help us."

You stared out the window, a mix of worry and doubt tugging at your heart. "I don't trust him, John B. There's something off about him." The idea of being in Figure Eight, away from your friends, was terrifying. 

John B let out a heavy sigh, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I get that feeling too, but we need his help. We need to keep DCS off our backs. Nobody said we had to stay there all the time. It’s just a cover."

Despite your hesitation, you nodded, knowing that he had the right idea. The bond between you and John B was your anchor, and you were willing to trust him, even if the circumstances were far from comforting. “I’ll go where you go, JB. But I really have a bad feeling about this.”

--

Moving into the Cameron house was extremely awkward. The walls felt unfamiliar, and Ward's presence seemed to loom over you. The first change came when you and John B were assigned separate bedrooms, a decision that made your unease grow.

Standing hesitantly in the doorway of your new room, you looked at John B with a mixture of concern. "Why can't we share a room?"

Ward exchanged a glance with John B, and the unspoken conversation between them only fueled your anxiety. Was this John B’s decision? "It's important for both of you to have your own space," Ward said, his voice carrying a hint of finality. “Gives you time to grow in your own way. You don’t share a room at home now, do you?”

“I’d feel a lot better by him,” You replied without any regard for your ungrateful attitude. It seemed like Ward was doing a great job at driving a wedge between you and your brother. And even though you did have your own rooms at the Chateau, being separated here felt much worse. Usually, there was just a wall between you, not three hallways, a set of stairs, and locked doors. 

“We can share a room, Mr. Cameron, it’s really no-”

“You will have separate rooms. That is final. I already have a lot on my plate getting you two adjusted, please don’t make it harder.”

As night fell, the unfamiliarity of your surroundings only intensified your discomfort. Unable to bear the thought of being separated from John B, you found yourself sneaking into his room. The floor became your refuge, a makeshift bed where you sought solace in his proximity.

Your unease didn’t disappear overnight. The gold was still waiting to be pulled out of the well and when Ward interfered with the plans for that too, your anxiety resurfaced. You couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss.

You had been standing awkwardly on the sidewalk when Ward approached John B and Sarah to bring up the idea. He finally acknowledged your presence. "This trip is just for John B and me. Some bonding time while we talk things out, man to man about dating my daughter…"

John B leaned over, ruffling your hair affectionately even though he wasn't a major fan of this himself. "It's just fishing, Birdie. I'll be back before you know it." He could tell you didn’t like being here by yourself and he didn’t blame you. “Plus, Sarah will be here. You guys could hang out?”

Despite his attempt to reassure you, the feeling of unease clung to you like a second skin. "Promise you'll call if anything goes wrong?"

John B's eyes softened as he nodded. "I promise. Can always hang with JJ and them too, you know. Figure out some plans.”

He hinted toward what you were supposed to be doing the following morning: pulling the gold out. 

With a heavy heart, you watched them head out to the dock the next morning. It felt so silly to be worried about being alone without John B. You retreated to your room, the morning sun casting golden rays across the floor, hoping for the best.

Minutes dragged on like an eternity as you cowered in the suffocating darkness of the room. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside, sent shivers down your spine. The air was heavy with fear, your heart beating in a frantic rhythm as the minutes ticked by.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and your heart jumped into your throat. Ward's sinister smile greeted you, his presence casting a shadow that seemed to engulf the room. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, confused by his presence. “Where’s John B?”

He completely ignored your question and threw the light on as he stepped closer. "I think we need to have a little chat."

“Don’t touch me!” Your breath caught in your throat, and you stumbled back off the bed, your hands pressing against the closet wall as if it could shield you from the threat before you. His grip on your arm was like a vise, cold and unyielding, as he pulled you into the dimly lit room. 

"You see, I have a problem here," Ward hissed, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory intensity, "Your father thought he could outsmart me from the gold. I killed him for it. You and your brother don’t stand a chance, especially if I take you out one by one…but just how do I go about it?"

As he spoke, his words were a twisted dance of intimidation. His threats were like icy daggers, each word digging deeper into your psyche, igniting a firestorm of panic. The room felt like a cage, and you were trapped in its suffocating grasp.

Your heart raced, your breathing shallow as your mind raced to find an escape route. The weight of his words bore down on you. The room seemed to close in on you, the walls narrowing as Ward's presence loomed over you. Your dad. Ward Cameron killed your dad.

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and another figure entered the room—Rose Cameron. Her demeanor was cold and calculating, her eyes scanning you with an unsettling intensity.

Ward's gaze flickered between you and Rose, and a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You remember Rose, right?"

You felt a knot of unease tighten in your stomach. Rose's presence seemed to amplify the danger, and you couldn't shake off the feeling that you were trapped in a spider's web.

Rose's voice was silky, her smile masking an undercurrent of manipulation. "Ward and I are only concerned for your well-being, sweetie. We want what's best for you. You don’t have to worry about going back to the Cut ever again, okay?"

The words felt like a strong hand tightening around your throat, and you backed away, your heart racing as you tried to maintain some semblance of control. "I don't need your concern, I need my brother."

Ward's laugh was chilling, his amusement a stark contrast to the terror that gripped you. "John B’s gone. Why do you think I took him out on the boat? Easier access to dump the body where someone won’t find it."

A wave of panic crashed over you, and you instinctively turned to flee, only to find Rose blocking your path. The realization struck you like a lightning bolt—this was a trap, and you were caught in their twisted game.

Before you could react, Ward lunged forward, his grip like a vice as he forced you into the closet. The sound of the lock clicking shut sent a shock of terror through your veins, and you pounded on the door, desperation fuelling your efforts.

"Let me out! Let me out of here!" Your voice cracked with fear, each thud against the door a desperate plea for escape. “John B!”

From the other side of the door, you heard Ward's voice, his tone taunting. "You're not going anywhere. This is where you'll learn your place. And stay quiet until we finish digging out the gold. Actually, thank you. Without your help, we wouldn’t have even gotten this far."

The reality of your situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Trapped, alone, and at the mercy of their manipulation, you felt a surge of panic rise within you. You were a pawn in their game, a helpless victim in a twisted power play. And they knew about the gold.

As you sat in the darkness, the silence was deafening, broken only by your ragged breaths. The taste of fear lingered on your tongue, and you knew that escaping this nightmare would require every ounce of strength you possessed.

You waited until silence covered the house before slamming your body against the closet door. Pain radiated through your shoulder, but you remembered JJ’s direction on kicking a door out before putting it to practice as best as you could.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins was a lifeline, propelling you forward as you lunged for the door and finally broke the lock free. Panic fed your speed, and your heart pounded in your chest as you burst into the hallway, your breath ragged and harsh.

As you fled down the corridor, the taste of freedom was tantalizingly close. You turned a corner, your pulse racing, and then… silence. Panic surged as you realized you were trapped in a dead-end hallway, the walls closing in on you like a vise.

Footsteps echoed ominously behind you, and you whirled around to see Rafe's approaching shadow—no time to spare. Your heart hammered in your chest, and desperation surged within you. With a gasp, you spotted the open doors to the upstairs balcony. Adrenaline-fueled strength carried you forward, and you sprinted toward them. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rafe’s voice taunted as he started to round the corner. You pushed yourself over the balcony rail and tried your best to hang on as you slowly slide down the column to the ground. Until you lost grip, that is.

The world outside spun in a blur of green and blue, and your body collided with the ground, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through your limbs. Dazed and disoriented, you scrambled to your feet, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Rafe's voice echoed behind you, but you didn’t dare look back. 

The sound of your own breath, the rustling leaves, and the pounding of your heart filled your senses as you ran. You thanked JJ for dragging you through these paths as kids so you never got lost by yourself. 

And then, suddenly, your foot caught on a root, and you were tumbling, colliding with something solid. Pain radiated through your limbs as you groaned, disoriented and breathless. You looked up, blinking away tears, only to find yourself staring into a pair of familiar eyes.

"Birdie?" John B's voice was a mixture of disbelief and concern as he rushed to your side, his hands reaching out to steady you.

Your heart raced, emotions swirling within you as you tried to process what was happening. Your eyes widened in panic, and your hands shot up defensively, a guttural gasp escaping your lips as you stumbled back.

John B's expression shifted from surprise to a gentle concern, his voice cautious. "Hey, it's me, it’s me. You're safe. I'm here."

The flood of emotions was overwhelming, and your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath. Slowly, you lowered your hands, your vision clearing enough for you to see your brother's worried eyes, the deep lines of concern etched into his forehead.

"John B?" Your voice trembled, a mixture of disbelief and relief coursing through your veins. “You’re alive?”

He nodded, his voice soothing as he extended a hand toward you. "Yeah, it's me. You're okay now."

You felt your legs give way, the tension and fear of the past hours finally catching up with you. John B caught you, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he eased you to sit. He held you close, the warmth of his embrace grounding you in reality.

As the tears spilled over, you clung to him as if he were the lifeline you had desperately needed. He whispered reassurances as he held you close, reminding you that you were with him and everything was fine.

Gasping for breath, you clung to John B as if he were your anchor in the storm. Tears streaked down your face, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the words to explain the terror you had just experienced.

"John B, I… I couldn't stay there. Ward…" You choked on the words, your voice a fragile whisper. “He said you were dead.”

John B's arms tightened around you as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Shhh, take your time. Just tell me what happened."

Taking a deep breath, you began recounting what had just happened—how Ward had cornered you, the sinister threats that were enough for you to kick a door out, and the desperate flight through the woods. As you spoke, you finally let your shoulders sag in relief. Your brother was okay.

John B's grip on you tightened even further, his voice shaky when he realized how fucked up this whole thing was. "He attacked me on the boat. Said he was the reason Dad is gone and… he-he tried to get me to share the gold with him - lashed out when I said no."

As the reality of the situation settled in when you didn’t answer, John B's protective instinct kicked into high gear. He helped you to your feet, his gaze never leaving yours. "Are you hurt? Did he… did he touch you?"

You shook your head. "I'm okay. He didn't… he didn't hurt me."

John B's features softened with relief, but his anger remained simmering beneath the surface. "We're getting out of here. Right now. Let’s go find the others."

Your friends were waiting at the Chateau when you arrived. They attempted to share their progress with the tools to remove the gold but you and your brother moved past them wordlessly

Kiara, Pope, and JJ filed into the house instantly. "Guys? What's going on?" Kiara's voice carried a note of worry. It only got worse when JJ got shoved aside by your brother. “John B!”

John B's gaze darted around the room, his eyes finally settling on yours before he looked away, his jaw clenched tightly. Without a word, he made his way past your friends, his steps determined as he headed for the door, this time with JJ’s gun in his hand.

“Where are you going?” You screamed after him in shock and ran onto the porch. This was not what you figured he would do. 

John B ignored your shouts and kicked JJ’s dirt bike to life before speeding off with no explanation.

JJ exchanged a confused glance with the others. "What's up with him?"

You groaned and flopped on the couch, the heaviness of the truth threatening to consume you. "Ward... Ward killed Big John."

The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. Kiara, Pope, and JJ stared at you in shock, their expressions a mix of disbelief and horror.

JJ's voice was barely a whisper. "What?"

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the memories flooded back, the pain of the past resurfacing with a vengeance. "He was investigating something about the Royal Merchant, and Ward killed him when he wouldn't agree to share the gold."

Pope's voice was filled with anger and disbelief. "That son of a..."

Kiara's hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "Oh, my god."

As the truth settled in, the room seemed to close in around you, suffocating you with its weight. John B's abrupt departure on the dirt bike now carried a new layer of meaning—if he killed Ward, they would turn this all on your brother.

Hours passed, each moment heavy with the weight of the revelation. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a somber glow across the Chateau. No one spoke, the tension growing with every passing minute.

Kiara eventually got up to grab you something to eat in hopes of calming your nerves. You appreciated the gesture but as you huddled together between JJ and Pope, the reality of the situation began to sink in. 

What the fuck were you going to do now?

--

navigation

read my outer banks x the summer i turned pretty crossover

[uramakimochi]

me for the past week and i'm so fucking maddd

STOP👏TAGGING👏XREADER👏IF👏YOU👏USE👏AN👏OC👏NOBODY👏 FUCKING👏ASKED👏FOR👏THAT👏OKAY???

The wrong thing is not the fact that you write a story with an oc, no, that's not the real problem, really.

IT'S JUST THE FACT THAT YOU USE THE WRONG TAG SO YOU HOPE MORE PEOPLE READ YOUR STORY. BUT BELIEVE ME IT'S JUST FUCKING ANNOYING 'CAUSE WE AREN'T ABLE TO FIND THE RIGHT FICS IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS!!!

There are people who like to read more stories with ocs than reader inserts, so use the fucking right tag go reach that community and stop spamming your stories among ours.

I don't think you get it but, you know, the purpose of fanfics with reader insert is to make the reader imagine her/himself as the mc of the story. The best part of these fics is the fact that EVERYONE can be included in them.

SO WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN THEM BY MAKING THE MC A PERSON THAT LOOKS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE READER AND EVEN HAS A NAME THAT IS NOT THEIRS?

Not to be dramatic but i hate y'all.

And the fact that it's always the same fandoms and we all know who we're talking about...

[salem-s]

18+ mdni.

PLAYING THE PART UNDER THE SICILIAN SUN ── RAFE CAMERON

SERIES MASTERLIST

𓇼 ⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS ── When your image-obsessed mother catches you and Rafe Cameron (your friend-with-benefits) in a compromising situation, you must lie and say you're dating. It spirals out of control when your mother invites him to your cousin’s upcoming wedding in Italy, and even more out of control when he says yes. ── fake dating, friends with benefits, she fell first but he fell harder, college au. ── contains fluff, angst, smut (chapters marked*).

𓆉 ⋆.˚ CHAPTERS

01 ─ 02* ─ 03* ─ 04* ─ 05 ─ 06 ─ 07* ─ 08 ─ 09* ─ 10 ─ 11 ─ FINAL* | WORD COUNT 101.6k

𓆉 ⋆.˚ BLURBS ── FEELING EACH OTHER | more coming soon…

𓆡 ⋆.˚ NOTES ── This is a Rafe x fem!reader story. No use of Y/N. ── The only OC-leaning detail is that she has an Italian speaking grandmother (or grandmother-like figure) and can speak the language. ── This story is 18+. Do not interact if less than.

© 2025 salem-s please do not copy or replicate work unless given permission from me. mdni.

[bbyg4rl]

make it fit ♡

cw: bf!JJ x reader, smut, aftercare, fluffy, happy ending !

summary: your bf's dick doesn't fit in you, so he makes it fit. MDNI

< size kink x100, use of papa J, aftercare, established relationship, fluffy, little overstimulation, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, slight praise kink; switch!jj and breeding kink if you squint >

a/n: for my short baddies ong !!! this also sooo self indulgent bc im also a 4'11 baddie 😫‼️

He didn't fit. It was as simple as that. He was just too big for you. Admittedly, that was what drew you both to each other in the first place— You loved how he enveloped you completely, how you had to stand on your tiptoes just to barely reach his face.

He loved how your face was barely the size of his hand. He'd always felt so small in his life, it was refreshing to feel so big near you. And boy was he big.

This was the first time you both were having sex together. You had the whole house to yourself, You were propped up on his lap, his big hands wrapped around your hips as he guided you against the bulge protruding out of his pants. The Tv playing in the background conveniently forgotten as you rutted into each other.

"I want you" you whisper to him in between soft pants. His eyes flicked open, intrigued at your words.

"Are you sure baby?" He asks you with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm ready" the words gush out of your mouth when his hands tighten around your hips.

He didn't need to be told twice, like clockwork you were lifted up from your seat on his lap and carried off to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, quickly discarding his clothes to climb on top of you. He peppered sweet kisses on your body as he slowly undressed you.

"you're so beautiful" he uttered as he faced your core, letting his fingers lightly dance over your clit.

Not an inch of your pussy is untouched by him. He's making out with your folds like its the only thing he ever wants to do. He's eating you like its his last meal on earth. He's pulling sloppy mewls out of you at every thrust of his tongue into your cunt. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, holding you down as he devours your pussy, restricting any movement you might make.

It's not long before he has you teetering over the edge of ecstacy. JJ notices as your hips buck into him harder and your wrists clench tight against the sheets.

"Give it to me baby. Give it to papa J" he hums against your heat, the vibrations from his mouth snapping the coil in your stomach instantly, making your back arch painfully.

He's reduced you into a creaming mess on his tongue. Moaning into you as you clench around his tongue desperately riding out your orgasm.

He pulls his head away from your arousal, his chin and nose covered in your cum as his fingers lap up the cream leaking out of you only to shove it back into you, He's fucking you with his fingers, watching with delight as your face scrunches up because of the overstimulation.

"Already so full baby?" he mocks you with faux sympathy in his voice as your walls spasm around his fingers in need.

"Ready for me mama?" He asks, his gaze locks in on your pussy, lust clouding his bright blue eyes.

You merely nod at his words, unable to let out anything other than moans from your mouth. He pulls his hand away from you, licking the arousal off his fingers.

"Use your words baby. Do you want this?" He asks, as he wraps his hand around his dick, beads of sticky precum leaking from his slit. He gives it a few strokes, low moans leaving both your mouths when he gives your clit a few taps with his tip.

"Please JJ. Need you" You mewl. Your words are like music to his ears, his hands reach under your knees to prop your legs upon his shoulders.

He reaches down to guide his cock to your heat, his tip nudges at your opening a few times before he starts pushing. Only- he struggles to push in.

Your face turns red as he tries to push in again, His face twisting in confusion as he drops your legs to your side to give him more space to work with.

Neither of you could lie and say it didn't turn you both on infinitely more when JJ struggled to fit inside you.

"J, it doesn't fit-" You moan as he tries to push again. A little embarrassment taking over your features as he struggles against you.

"Then I'll make it fit" His eyebrows furrow as he nudged his tip into your opening again. His hand left your thigh to place his fingers on either side of your hole, holding you open. His eyes find yours "Trust papa J princess?"

You nod and close your eyes in preparation. His eyes move back to your pussy. He starts bullying his dick into you slowly. Soft whimpers leaving his lips as your walls clamp down on him instantly.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight"

He pushes in more, wanting to feel your tight walls around all of him. Your eyes shoot open when you feel a sharp pain in your upper abdomen. He quickly connects his fingers to your clit, trying to soothe the pain.

He knew if he pulled out now, he wouldn't be able to last pushing his cock back in again without immediately climaxing. His attack on your clit works, pleasure taking over pain as he starts pushing again. He wasn't even halfway done yet but you could swear you felt him in your throat.

JJ was sure he'd see a bulge in your stomach when he was done. The thought making his dick twitch in anticipation.

Finally, he bottoms out in you. You're panting like a dog trying to adjust around his length. "So big" you whisper as you look down at him. His eyes trained on your pussy, silently admiring how beautiful you looked all stretched out for him.

He looks at you for approval before he starts slowly thrusting. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you feel inch after inch of his dick as he moved, it hurt a little but was quickly replaced by pleasure as JJ started rubbing hearts on your clit pushing you to reach your edge.

He eventually starts thrusting faster, desperation taking over his actions. His eyes were locked shut at the feel of your walls tightening around him so deliciously.

"Jay- I'm gonna-" you mutter as you near your edge, JJ's hand moves faster against your clit, encouraging you to finish around his dick.

"So perfect-" he drags his words as you clench hard around his dick, He relaxes for a second giving you both a moment to fill your lungs with air.

Before you know it, He's fucking you harder and harder. Now chasing his own climax. His thrusts leave you so overstimulated there's tears in your eyes. He bends down to kiss your lips.

"You're so perfect for me baby" he says as he buries his head in the crook of your neck "Please let me finish inside" he whimpers in your ear. His pleads send butterflies down to your clit.

"Please cum in me" You say as an attempt to push him over the edge, earning you a soft groan from him. His thrusts start to get sloppier as he shoots white ropes deep inside you with a moan so loud even your neighbours probably heard. He bites down on your neck, leaving small hickeys as he continues fucking his cum deeper into you.

He slowly pulls out. Shifting to the edge of the bed to catch a glimpse at his cum oozing out of your worn cunt. He pushes it back in with his fingers.

He presses a kiss to your clit and gets up in search of a towel to clean you up and gets you a glass of water. After he's done taking care of you, he gives you his shirt to wear and snuggles you into him, holding you close as he peppers your forehead with light kisses and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. You drift off to sleep safe in his arms.

check out my other works ! masterlist

[7-deadly-cats]

·.♡ fuck valentine's day

M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

♡ G E N R E ♡ one shot, angst but happy ending, steamy but not-explicit

♡ P A I R I N G ♡ taken!s4!rafe cameron x bsf!reader (f)

♡ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ♡ strong language, angst but happy ending, suggestive language and themes, major argument, mention of substance abuse (alcohol and coke), emotional distress, toxic relationship (not with you tho hihihi) and manipulation, brief mention of physical violence (just a punch), mildly suggestive scenes and hint of intimacy and sex but no explicit content, my recommendation: 16+

♡ S U M M A R Y ♡ After the death of Ward Cameron, Rafe starts to reclaim his life, becoming more grounded and family-oriented. However, his close friendship with you slowly crumbles after Sabrina, his seemingly perfect girlfriend, enters the picture. You, grappling with suppressed feelings for Rafe, try to step back, but Sabrina's manipulative nature causes tensions to rise. On a stormy Valentine’s Day, a broken-down car leads to an unexpected confrontation between Rafe and you in which emotions spill over. As truths are revealed, your complicated relationship takes an intense and transformative turn, forcing both to confront what you truly mean to each other.

♡ W O R D C O U N T ♡ 8.3k+

♡ A / N ♡ this is the most i've ever written in ONE day (yes i spent the whole valentine's day writing this lmao) and i put my whole soul into it, and i know it's LONG but i promise i tried my best to make it work. so anyway happy very late valentine's day to everyone, hope you enjoy this little one shot <3 maybe it's a little cheesy, cringe and cliche (especially at the end) but i guess that's what this day is about. and i really enjoyed writing it hihhi + would love to hear your thoughts on this one (would mean a lot)

♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡

Ward Cameron’s death was, in your eyes, the best thing that could’ve ever happened to Rafe. He was finally free from the toxic relationship with his father. Free from years of manipulation, being pushed around, and constant disregard.

Of course, it hadn’t happened overnight. The first step had been taken long before Ward’s death—back when he fell into a coma and Rafe was suddenly thrusted into the role of being the man of the house. It was during that time Rafe realized the family and their business could function without Ward Cameron at the helm.

Ward’s death had simply been the final key that unlocked Rafe’s cage. And as he let go of his father, he also let go of a significant part of his old life.

He became more grounded, business-minded, and above all, family-oriented. He kept talking about fixing things with Sarah and pulling Wheezie away from Rose’s grip.

Rafe Cameron genuinely wanted to become a better man.

Watching him finally blossom as a person was so incredibly beautiful to witness. And yet, it shattered your heart into a thousand pieces knowing you weren’t the one standing by his side as it happened.

Not in this way at least.

Sure, you had been there for him during his darkest, most destructive moments. You had stayed by his side when he’d said and done things that were nearly impossible to take back. He had hurt people close to him—you included—and yet, you had never left.

Deep down, you knew that underneath all the frustration and rage was a broken boy who just craved love and recognition. And no one had ever given him the chance to show that part of himself.

That’s exactly why you'd never dared to confess your feelings to him. He deserved love but there had never been a time when he’d been truly ready for a serious relationship.

Telling him about your feelings, purely out of selfishness, would’ve led to one of two outcomes: either an unstable relationship where he clung to the idea of being loved without genuinely loving you back, or the deterioration of your friendship due to his fear of commitment.

So, you suppressed your thoughts, feelings, and the love you held for him. You preferred to love him from afar as your best friend rather than risk dragging him into a formless relationship during his unstable state.

Tragically, that mindset became deeply ingrained in your brain. Even after Ward’s death, when Rafe visibly began to change for the better and showed clear signs of looking to settle down with someone, you stayed silent.

Not out of fear of losing him but out of sheer stubbornness, waiting for the “right moment.”

And that hesitation cost you your chance: another woman got there first and won Rafe’s heart.

Sabrina Anderson—he met her at a charity gala. She was stunningly beautiful, wealthy, had an excellent academic background, and everything about her screamed old money.

She appeared like the picture-perfect Kook girlfriend. Everything Rafe thought he wanted in a woman.

And, for fuck’s sake, it felt like the universe was punishing you for your patience and hesitation.

Normally, you would’ve accompanied Rafe to his important events as his plus one but this one time, this one fucking time, you had canceled because you’d promised Topper you’d help him move into his stupid new place (yeah, he had finally gotten his act together and left his toxic family’s home). And like the idiot you were, you completely forgot the gala was happening that day.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. You know I usually write this stuff down in my calendar but I must’ve missed it somehow,” you said the night before the gala while helping Rafe pick the perfect outfit.

Rafe just waved it off with a cheeky grin as he unbuttoned his shirt. “I’ll survive one evening without your bad jokes and complaints about the tiny dessert portions.”

“They are tiny portions. I think they’re expecting a bunch of kids as guests,” you retorted, your eyes flickering briefly to his sun-kissed, bare chest. You quickly averted your gaze and handed him a new shirt. “I think this one works better. Next time, I’ll be there. Promise. Even if Topper’s new place is on fire.”

Rafe nodded, amused, as he slipped on the new shirt. “That’s not even unlikely with his mom around. That woman’s straight-up on ‘psycho mom marries son’ type shit.”

A laugh escaped your lips. “Don’t say that. Next thing you know, it’ll be on TLC or some other trash TV channel.”

And so, you spent the rest of the evening together.

Rafe tried on a few more suits — all of which looked amazing on him (and in every single one of them, you wanted to rip the clothes right off him, though you'd never say that out loud).

You baked a pizza together, watched some movies in his bed, and every time you showed him one of your dumb, brain-rotting reels, he rolled his eyes, but every so often, he’d sent you one of his own because, deep down, he probably loved how much they made you laugh.

At some point, you fell asleep in his bed, and Rafe brought you an extra blanket. The next morning, he drove you home and wished you luck at Topper’s move.

Had you known that would be the last night the two of you could act like that, you would’ve told him everything.

But how could you have known that the next night, a new girl would enter his life? How could you have known that Sabrina Anderson would sweep him off his feet in a way you never could? And how could you have predicted that she would endanger your entire friendship so deeply that within a few months, you and Rafe were little more than acquaintances?

At first, everything seemed fine. Rafe told you about the gala, about Sabrina, and about how perfect she was. Of course, it broke your heart, but the way he spoke about her helped heal it again because he seemed genuinely smitten with her.

They started texting, going on dates, and Rafe did things for her he’d never done for anyone else. You being the exception, of course, but well, he’d never considered you a potential love interest, right?

Sabrina was different. He officially tried courting her. He bought her the most beautiful flowers, spoiled her with the most expensive jewelry, and gave everything to be a good boyfriend.

And so, their relationship grew more serious, and eventually, he introduced her to you, Topper, and Kelce at a party at Tannyhill.

That’s when everything went downhill.

Topper and Kelce obviously thought she was hot, of course. Those idiots were just guys, after all. They couldn’t see past her perfectly shaped breasts and the cute ass hidden under a stylish dress.

But for you, alarm bells were ringing. Something about Sabrina just felt... off. Sure, she was incredibly sweet and nice but whenever she looked at you, there was something darker lurking beneath her gaze.

You dismissed it immediately, assuming you were just biased because of your own feelings for Rafe. A part of you simply couldn’t accept that another woman was making him happy.

Besides, you were still his best friend. You’d been through thick and thin together, and nothing could tear the two of you apart. Not even a girlfriend.

Sure, Sabrina would be part of everything from now on but the chemistry between you and Rafe... that was something special, and even an idiot could see it.

So it wasn’t entirely surprising when Sabrina cornered you in the kitchen later that night, a sweet smile plastered on her face. “Oh, hey, Y/N. Needed a little breather too?”

You were pouring yourself another drink, and even though she gave you a weird feeling, you managed a smile. “Yeah, when Kelce DJs, it tends to get loud.”

Sabrina nodded in agreement but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “True. Rafe seems to have some... interesting friends.”

The way she said it, while looking directly at you, should’ve been enough for you to go straight to Rafe and tell him something about Sabrina wasn’t right. But you just shrugged as you added vodka to your cup. “Kelce’s a bit weird but he’s cool once you get to know him. And Topper’s always reliable when it counts.”

“And you?” Her innocent look didn’t match her tone.

You raised your eyebrows slightly. “What about me?”

“When Rafe mentioned he had a girl best friend, I didn’t think that...” She paused, tilting her head with a bemused smile. “Well, you know, that she was his ex.”

What the fuck?

Your eyebrows shot up, and you shook your head in confusion. “I’m not his ex. Where did you get that from?”

Sabrina let out a soft giggle, as if your reaction had been overly dramatic. “You don’t have to get so defensive. I just thought, well, you two seem so close, and the way you act with each other... it’s only natural I’d have a few concerns, right?”

You shook your head again, though you couldn’t stop the warmth creeping across your cheeks. “We’re just friends, Sabrina. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“So... just to be clear, you two never had anything going on? You know, slept with each other or something?” She still wore that fake innocent smile.

What a bitch.

“No, of course not,” you replied dryly. “It’s always been purely platonic between me and Rafe.”

Sabrina let out a lighthearted sigh. “Oh, that’s a relief. Then I guess you’re basically like a little sister to him.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean. You shrugged. “I guess."

This time, Sabrina’s gaze darkened, though her facade still didn’t slip. “Good. I mean, I’d just like to think siblings behave a little more... appropriately.”

You only smiled in response but in that moment, the first brick of a massive wall between you and Rafe had been laid.

Because deep down, as much as it ate at you, Sabrina was right. It had never been an issue before if you shared a bed with him, wore his clothes, kissed him during one of Kelce’s stupid Truth or Dare games, or hung on him like a lovesick monkey when you got too drunk.

You had been both single and the flirty banter between you had always been just that: a few dumb words or gestures, nothing more.

But now Rafe had a girlfriend. He was taken. And all those things were no longer okay. And even though he was your best friend and hadn’t yet drawn those boundaries for the sake of his new relationship, you did.

At first, it was a slow process. Movie nights turned into movie afternoons, and instead of laying in his bed, you suggested the couch because it was cozier… right? And even though he still preferred you as his plus one for events, you started declining, insisting Sabrina would probably appreciate it more (Wouldn’t she, Rafe?).

You also pulled away from hugs quicker than before, drank less at parties to avoid doing anything dumb around him, and when it came to games like Never Have I Ever or Truth or Dare, you became a mere spectator. What used to be teasing touches were reduced to the bare minimum.

Your friendship began to waver and Sabrina kept Rafe so busy — dragging him from one date to another, satisfying him in ways you could only dream of — that he barely noticed how far the two of you had drifted apart.

Of course, the others around you weren’t stupid. Topper and Kelce immediately noticed the strange new tension between you and Rafe. Even fucking Ruthie, Topper’s girlfriend—and the two of you were definitely not on good terms—pulled you aside one evening.

However, you knew she didn’t do it out of concern for you. No, Ruthie felt threatened by Sabrina’s presence just as much as you did.

“Are you seriously going to let her walk all over you?” she asked, cornering you outside the bathroom at a beach party. “That bitch is a manipulative snake.”

God, you wanted to agree, to vent to Ruthie about how much Sabrina pissed you off. But for Rafe’s sake, you bit back the words and said instead, “If you want, I can let him know how you feel. I’m sure he’ll love to hear it.”

Ruthie, unimpressed, just smiled. “Oh, please. When’s the last time you two even talked alone?”

That stung because it was true.

Three months into his relationship with Sabrina, she’d already built a thick wall between you and Rafe.

These days, you only saw each other at parties or when the group hung out, and even then, getting a private moment with him was rare. Sabrina clung to him like a shadow, always watching, always there.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d done something together, just the two of you. He barely seemed to have time for anyone else anymore, not even you.

And that was the problem. Rafe was so terrified of letting this chance at a “perfect” future with someone slip away that he clung to Sabrina just as tightly as she clung to him. Because even though Ward Cameron was no longer alive, one thing had stuck with Rafe: the idea of family.

That’s what Ward had valued above everything else, and Rafe thought he’d finally found that dream with Sabrina Anderson.

And even though it tore you apart, even though it cost you sleepless, tear-filled nights, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him about it. It was so incredibly wrong and cowardly, especially because you KNEW what kind of person Sabrina was. You KNEW that, eventually, her controlling nature would probably drive a wedge between Rafe and the rest of the group too—Topper, Kelce, everyone.

But in that moment, he seemed happy.

And you couldn’t be the one to take that happiness away from him, even if it meant losing him in the process.

It was unbelievably stupid, and deep down, you knew he deserved better. But the real problem wasn’t Sabrina. It was you.

No matter who stood at Rafe’s side, any girl would have reacted the same way Sabrina did. Maybe they wouldn’t have been as cunning about it, but no girl would have been okay with the bond you shared with Rafe. Some might’ve confronted him directly, others might’ve tried breaking you apart like Sabrina had, and some would’ve just given up and broken things off immediately.

And Rafe had realized that too, in his own way. The connection between you and him... it wasn’t a normal “best friends” kind of thing. You were probably the most important person in his life, until Sabrina had shown up. But Rafe had been too blind, too scared, to admit it to himself.

Or worse, to admit it to you.

Because the truth was, Rafe had feelings for you. He wasn’t stupid—how could he not have fallen for you? You’d stood by him during his darkest moments, even when he confessed to you about killing Peterkin. Hell, you would’ve followed him to Barbados if he hadn’t insisted you stay behind, where you’d be safe.

But Rafe also knew how messed up he was. He knew there was something deeply wrong with him. He was loud, impulsive, and reckless. At his worst, he’d nearly been willing to kill Sarah and his own father.

Rafe Cameron was a deeply unstable wreck and the last thing he wanted was to drag you down with him.

You deserved someone better. Someone kind and loving, someone who didn’t have anger issues or a fucked-up mind like his. Someone who knew their limits and respected others’.

God, how many times had he sat next to you at parties, though, with you drunk or high, leaning against him, your big, tired eyes looking up at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered? It had taken every ounce of self-control not to press his lips to yours right then and there, to carry you upstairs to his bed and forget about the party downstairs.

And the worst part? The thought of all the times you’d actually fallen asleep next to him in his bed. How badly he’d wanted you then—to kiss you, love you, to feel you. Not in the way he'd done with random hookups in the past. God, no. What he felt for you ran so much deeper, more primal, than that. It was like hunger, like thirst. He didn’t just want you. He needed you—every piece of you, your whole being.

So, as time passed and you remained distant, Rafe Cameron broke under the weight of the wall between you.

But while you hid away in your room, drowning yourself in movies, shows, mindless phone games, loud music, and lonely nights, Rafe fell back into old habits.

Not all at once, but slowly, quietly, in a way that would destroy him eventually. More empty whiskey bottles started showing up around the house. The occasional bag of coke appeared in his drawers again. And when he came home from parties with Sabrina, it was rarely without a bruise or a bloody nose.

And when he fucked her afterward, it wasn’t out of love. It was out of frustration and anger. Anger at himself for losing you, for letting you slip away, for not daring to chase after you out of cowardice.

And every time a soft moan left Sabrina’s lips, it wasn’t her he thought of.

It was you.

Of course, you heard about all of this. Not because you were present to witness his behavior (you avoided any place Rafe might show up these days) but through Topper and Kelce. They’d call or text you constantly, begging you to make up with Rafe. Because it wasn’t just you they were losing from the group—it was him too.

One night, Rafe even punched Topper, giving him a bloody nose, after Topper had the guts to bring up the whole situation. It wasn’t the complaints about Sabrina that set Rafe off, no, it was when your beautiful name had left Topper's lips.

Because Topper was right: Rafe had screwed it all up.

But he was too angry, too broken, to believe he could ever fix things with you.

Of course, he was Rafe Cameron. If Sabrina actually broke up with him, he’d just find someone else—at least, that’s what he had told himself for a while. But whether it was out of habit, some deeper fear of abandonment, or simply the thought of losing someone again, he couldn’t deny it.

Deep down he was afraid of losing her.

So, when Sabrina made it clear she was serious this time, he tried to do better. Especially because Rafe wasn’t sure if he had the energy—or the patience—to let someone new get that close again.

No, he couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t.

And what better day to secure her forever than Valentine’s Day?

Rafe wasn’t exactly a romantic but for this occasion, he had it all planned out: He’d take Sabrina out, spoil her with whatever she wanted, treat her like royalty. Dinner at the most expensive, exclusive restaurant, a private balcony lit by candlelight. Then, when they got back to Tannyhill, he’d carry her inside, through a house decorated with rose petals, scented candles, and heart-shaped balloons.

He’d take her to their shared bedroom, hold her close, and tell her how much he loved her—that he couldn’t imagine his life without her. And then, he’d drop to one knee, pull out the most extravagant, glamorous ring she could dream of, and ask her to marry him.

He figured she’d probably say yes. After all, despite everything, she knew Rafe would do anything to keep her, and being a Cameron opened doors that her own name couldn’t.

And later, as he bent her over in the rose-adorned bed, he’d remind her how perfect she was. Though in truth, he’d be convincing himself that losing you had at least brought him this.

But, as if the universe was punishing him for his past and future mistakes, the weather had other plans. A torrential downpour hit the island with strong winds and relentless rain. Leaving the house was impossible—any attempt would’ve ended in getting drenched or worse, an accident.

So, Rafe had no choice but to scrap his grand plans and stay at Tannyhill with Sabrina. Unfortunately, he’d already teased her days in advance about the “special surprises” he had in store.

In short: Sabrina wasn’t happy. She was upset about the weather, frustrated that Rafe’s plans had fallen through, and irritated with him by association.

It took everything Rafe had to hold his temper and avoid a full-blown argument. But he was determined not to screw this up. He cooked for her, gave her massages, played the music she liked, and later that evening, he drew her a luxurious bath to unwind.

That seemed to calm her, at least a little.

So, while Rafe stayed inside, trying to salvage the day, you were spending your Valentine’s with your grandmother. (It wasn’t like you had a date anyway, so why celebrate it?) She lived about an hour outside the Outer Banks, and you’d spent the day catching up with her, enjoying the quiet.

But as someone who rarely paid attention to her phone nowadays and definitely didn’t check the weather, you had no idea about the storm brewing in the area.

It wasn’t until you started your drive home that you realized just how bad it was. The rain came down in sheets, so thick it was nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The roads were slippery, the wind was howling, and you found yourself gripping the wheel tighter than ever.

“Okay,” you told yourself, “just go slow. Better to get home late than not at all.”

That was supposed to be the plan, until your dad’s expensive Bentley decided to give up on you in the middle of an empty back road. No houses nearby, no streetlights, and definitely no one around to help.

You sighed, muttering a curse under your breath. Okay, it’s fine. Probably just a fluke. You tried turning the key in the ignition again. Then again. And again.

Nothing.

Alright, not so fine.

Panic began creeping in but you forced yourself to stay calm. You couldn’t fix the car, and stepping out in this weather wasn’t an option. Your only choice was to call someone for help.

Your grandmother was already asleep by now and you didn’t want to worry her. Your parents were out of town for the weekend, so they were off the table, too. That left Kelce and Topper.

You tried Topper first but he sent you straight to voicemail. You were pretty sure Ruthie had something to do with that. Kelce picked up but the loud music and slurred tone on the other end told you he was having way too much fun at some club to be of any use.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

You scrolled through your contacts but nobody else seemed like a good option. Sure, you had other friends from your years at high school but who would actually drive half an hour in this weather on Valentine's Day just to pick you up?

Your thumb hovered over Rafe’s name, chest tightening.

The Rafe you used to know would’ve come for you in a heartbeat—rain, wind, storm, volcano, it wouldn’t have mattered. He would’ve been there, no questions asked. But now? You hadn’t really spoken to him in weeks, and you weren’t even sure if he still had your number saved.

Besides, you didn’t want to ruin his Valentine’s with Sabrina. Topper had mentioned things were rocky between them for a while but apparently, Rafe had gotten things back on track.

So, that left… what? Spending the night in the car and hoping Kelce or Topper would sober up enough to rescue you in the morning? Not exactly ideal.

You glanced around nervously. You didn’t know this area well and the heavy rain pounding against the roof wasn’t helping your growing unease. It was dark, the only light coming from your phone which was now dangerously low on battery.

Great, you thought, sinking back into the seat. Just perfect.

Yeah, fuck, you were scared.

You bit the inside of your cheeks, your fingers hovering over Rafe's number. He probably wouldn’t even pick up—most likely cuddled up with Sabrina on the couch.

He’s not going to answer anyway, you thought, swallowing the lump of guilt forming in your throat.

Then, you hit call.

Not even two rings later, he answered. “Y/n?” His voice sounded both confused and alert, a heart-wrenching distance in it.

A lump formed in your throat at the sound of his familiar voice and only then did you realize how much you’d hoped he would actually pick up.

“Rafe…” Your voice was quiet, slightly shaky, given the situation you were in. “I... I’m so sorry to bother you. I know it’s Valentine’s Day, and I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t—”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His tone shifted immediately, softer now, filled with concern.

“Yes! No. I mean… no,” you stammered, struggling to get the words out. “I was just at my grandma’s, and my dad’s Bentley broke down. I already tried calling Kelce and Topper, but—”

“Where are you?” he interrupted, and your heart clenched deeply.

“Rafe, you don’t have to—I just thought maybe—”

“Y/n.” His voice was firm now, leaving no room for argument. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”

You hesitated, then muttered, “I really don’t want to ruin your Valentine’s Day.”

“Fuck Valentine’s Day,” Rafe said, frustration in his voice, unmistakable concern underneath. “Send me your location, and tomorrow morning I’ll beat the shit out of Kelce and Topper for not answering.”

Despite the tension of the situation, despite the fear and guilt gnawing at you, a laugh escaped your lips.

For a moment, you paused, then sent him your live location.

“I’ll be there soon. Stay in the car, lock the doors, and don’t open up for anyone,” he instructed.

You barely managed to thank him before he hung up. And despite the guilt gnawing heavy at your chest, an immense wave of relief washed over you.

Rafe was in his closet, pulling out two jackets and a hoodie, when Sabrina walked out of the bathroom, her cheeks flushed pink from the steam and a towel barely wrapped around her, exposing her still-damp legs.

She frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m picking up Y/n,” he said, slipping on one of the jackets. “Her car broke down in the middle of nowhere.”

A flush of red rose to Sabrina’s pretty face, her brow furrowing deeply. “And she called you?”

Rafe shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “No one else picked up. I’ll be back in an hour—”

“Are you serious, Rafe?” Her voice sharpened, rising in pitch. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re driving out in this weather for HER, but you couldn’t even take me to dinner in town?”

Rafe grimaced, but his voice remained calm. “Like I said, I’ll be back soon. Don’t make this into a big deal.”

Sabrina scoffed, crossing her arms. “A big deal? You think I am the one being dramatic? Y/n is a grown woman. She knows we’re spending this evening together, and she still called you?”

"She called because she needs help, not because she’s trying to ruin your night or some shit," Rafe said, his tone making it clear she was being ridiculous. Still, he didn’t want to push her any further. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Look, baby—”

But Sabrina just shook her head in irritation. “My night? What’s that supposed to mean, huh?! This is our night, Rafe. And now you’re ditching our night for her?!” She stepped closer, her voice rising. “I’ve always known she was a threat to our relationship.”

“A threat?” Rafe raised his brows in disbelief as he stood up. “Come on, Sabrina, that’s insane. Just drop this bullshit.”

Her face flushed a deep, angry red. “I—excuse me? Do you even hear yourself right now? She hasn’t called you in weeks, Rafe. Weeks. And the second she does, you’re running off like some pathetic, lovesick puppy? It’s so embarrassing. For you, and especially for me.”

It took everything Rafe had to keep from completely losing it. Her words hit a nerve, and deep down, he knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. You had pulled away from him—hell, both of you had.

His blood was boiling, but all he could think about was you, sitting alone in that damn car in this awful weather.

Rafe took a step toward her, towering over her. Maybe he could control his words but he couldn't control his voice, now loud and frustrated.

He gestured to his chest with furrowed brows. “Tell me then, what the fuck do you want me to do, huh?! Leave her stranded out there all by herself?”

Sabrina nodded as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She’ll figure it out, it’s just one night and—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” His voice was dangerously calm now. “Pack your things and get the fuck out of my house.”

For a moment, Sabrina stared at him, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Rafe said, his gaze cold and full of suppressed disdain. “Get dressed and leave.”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’re being crazy, you—”

“If you’re not out the door in five minutes, I’ll make sure to throw you out myself.”

Sabrina blinked, her face twisting in disbelief. “You can’t just kick me out. It’s pouring outside, Rafe. It’s Valentine’s Day!”

Unbothered, Rafe shrugged, mimicking her earlier words. “You’re a grown woman. You’ll figure it out.”

And as the leech that called herself Sabrina Anderson had finally disappeared from Tannyhill, Rafe climbed into his SUV and took off.

His chest felt tight, his mind racing, yet at the same time, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. You were the only thing on his mind right now. He didn’t even try to put into words the heavy, suffocating feeling that lingered.

He’d messed up again—this time with Sabrina. But there was no regret, no sadness, nothing. If anything, it felt good to finally be rid of her. It wasn’t until halfway through the drive that he realized how much of a blind idiot he’d been. On some subconscious level, he’d been waiting for a moment like this, a reason to cut her out of his life.

For the first time in months, he could gasp for air, without her breathing down his neck. And as the last few months replayed in his mind, it hit him—she’d been a parasite, manipulating him, controlling him, molding him to fit her needs. Maybe he’d known all along but he hadn’t wanted to admit it.

Breaking free from her had been almost as hard as breaking free from his father. And, apart from Topper—who’d earned himself a punch to the face—no one had called him out. No one had tried to wake him up.

Not even you.

He shook off the thoughts as he spotted the silhouette of a dark car up ahead. His heart sank, thinking about how you must be feeling—completely alone on that pitch-black road.

Pulling up behind the Bentley, he grabbed the umbrella and jacket he’d thrown onto the passenger seat and stepped out into the pouring rain.

The umbrella didn’t do much. His jeans were soaked through almost immediately. But he didn’t care. He knocked on your car door, and the look of relief on your face when you unlocked and opened it made his chest ache deeply.

Then he noticed the redness in your eyes and a gut-wrenching heavy feeling settled in his stomach. “Hey. You okay? Here, take the jacket.”

Shivering, you hesitated but took it anyway, the relief coursing through your body almost enough to keep you warm.

“Rafe…” you started as you stepped under his umbrella but he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said, his hand resting gently on your back. “Let’s get you out of this weather.”

His touch sent a shiver down your spine but you didn’t argue. You hurried with him to his SUV and he opened the door for you, waiting to make sure you were inside before tossing the umbrella into the backseat and climbing in himself.

For a moment, the only sound was the pounding rain against the roof. Rafe gestured to the hoodie on the dashboard. “Put that on. You’re just in shorts.”

Still, you hesitated. It felt wrong somehow. The familiar scent of his car—of him—was already too much.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n.” He grabbed the hoodie and draped it over your bare knees. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You didn’t know what to think or say. Rafe had come out here for you in this weather, left Sabrina behind, and… while you were endlessly grateful, you couldn’t shake the guilt.

As he started the car and pulled back onto the road, some horrible feeling churned in your chest again. “Rafe, I’m really sorry. If I’d known it was raining like this, I would’ve stayed at my grandma’s, I—”

“Drop it,” Rafe cut in, his eyes fixed on the road. “You needed help, and I came. That’s all there is to it.”

You glanced at him, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his profile seemed sharper in the dim light. Hesitantly, you asked, “And Sabrina… how mad is she?”

It surprised you that she hadn’t insisted on coming along.

“She’s gone,” he said firmly, still staring straight ahead.

Your heart sank to your stomach. “Gone? I… what do you mean, gone?”

“I threw her out.” His tone was blunt, almost defiant. He finally looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. “What—why? What happened? Is it because I called? I—”

“Because she’s a fucking bitch,” Rafe cut in flatly. He dragged a hand down his face before turning back to you, his tone softening as he caught the shock in your eyes. “I should’ve done it a long time ago. I just… I was too blinded by all her fake bullshit.”

Your fingers clenched into the fabric of his hoodie on your lap, your thoughts spiraling. “Rafe, I’m really—”

“No,” he interrupted again, his brows pulling together. “I swear to God, if you say you’re sorry one more time, I’ll throw you out too.” There wasn’t an ounce of seriousness in his voice, though.

He sighed heavily, the frustration evident. “It’s all just… so fucked. Everything about this. It pisses me off. I really thought she was the one, and I was so blind to all her flaws.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Jesus, Y/n, why didn’t you say anything?”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” he shot back, the frustration he’d been holding back now bubbling to the surface. “It’s obvious she came between us. I was too stupid—fuck, I was too into her to see it. But you…” His voice faltered, and he seemed to collect himself. “You’re not stupid. You’re always the first one to spot red flags in people. Shit, even fucking Topper eventually figured it out.” He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let her play her stupid little games?”

You couldn’t tell if he was angry at you, Sabrina, himself, the situation, or all of it combined. “I…” But what could you say without revealing too much? “I thought she made you happy and I didn’t want to be the one to ruin that. I didn’t think it would turn out like this.”

“Bullshit.” The sharpness in his tone made you flinch. “You were my best friend. You’ve never had a problem speaking your mind when something bothered you. And now you’re telling me you let that bitch silence you?”

There it was. He’d used the past tense. You had been his best friend. Hearing it from his mouth shattered something deep inside you that you’d believed was already broken.

“That bitch, Rafe,” you snapped, a sharp edge creeping into your own voice, “was your girlfriend, just so you know. So, yeah, fine, I’ll admit it—when you first introduced her, every alarm bell in my head went off. Is that what you want to hear? I knew, and I didn’t do a damn thing about it. Boo-fucking-hoo. But you know what? You let it happen just as much as I did.”

And in that moment, you realized just how angry you were at Rafe. Sure, he’d been infatuated but was that really an excuse? He was just as much to blame for all of this as you were.

Rafe scoffed bitterly as he turned onto the main road leading into Figure 8. “I don’t get it. Did she say something to you? Is that why you pulled away? Shit, did she have something on you? Nudes or some shit like that?”

“What? No!” You stared at him, equal parts exhausted and horrified. You were cold, hungry, and overwhelmed by a storm of emotions boiling beneath the surface. You didn’t even know where to start. “Let's drop this, I'm tired. Please just take me home.”

But when he drove past your street without even slowing down, you frowned at him in disbelief. “What—”

“We’re talking this out,” he said flatly, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “If I drop you off now, nothing’s gonna change, and I’m so done with this shit.”

You opened your mouth to argue but when his tired, frustrated eyes met yours, the words caught in your throat. “Afterward, I’ll drive you home, and you can sulk in peace if you want,” he added, his tone softer but firm, hints at desperation undermining his words.

You stayed silent and turned your gaze out the window, hugging yourself. You knew him well enough to realize there was no point in arguing. When Rafe set his mind on something, there was no swaying him.

By the time the SUV pulled up to Tannyhill, the storm had mostly passed, though the occasional raindrop still pattered against the windshield. The two of you climbed out in silence. Despite the light drizzle, Rafe grabbed the umbrella from the backseat nonetheless and opened it over you both as he walked you to the house.

The door clicked open with a soft push and Rafe let you step inside first. As the door shut behind you and the warm glow of the entryway light filled the space, you were suddenly hit by an overwhelming, almost suffocating sense of unease.

The walls were lined with red heart-shaped balloons. The faint scent of roses lingered in the air, mingled with something sweeter you couldn’t quite place. Blown-out candles dotted every available surface, and the staircase was covered in a delicate carpet of red rose petals leading to the next floor.

It was… perfect.

Your stomach twisted as you took it all in, the earlier argument momentarily forgotten. Still staring at the carefully arranged display, you spoke softly. “You did all this for her?”

Rafe let out a bitter laugh. “Shit, I was even gonna propose to her tonight.”

Your heart stopped.

A proposal? He’d been that serious about Sabrina? Your gut twisted and you felt like throwing up. This was all too much to take in.

“But I’m glad you called,” he said after a moment, his voice softer this time, carrying an edge of something almost vulnerable.

You pressed your lips together and turned around, just to be hit with a shocking sight.

Now, under the bright light, you could finally see just how much this relationship had drained him. The dark circles under his eyes, the pallor of his skin, the way his cheekbones stood out more sharply than they should. It all painted a picture of someone who had given too much and gotten nothing in return.

And then the dam broke.

All the emotions you’d suppressed over the past few months—frustration, sadness, guilt, and fear—boiled down into the rawest form of emotion: anger.

“She’s a stupid fucking whore,” was all you managed to get out.

Rafe blinked, caught off guard by your reaction. “What?”

You shook your head, struggling to put your swirling thoughts into words. “She’s a stupid, arrogant, deceitful, manipulative bitch who doesn't deserve you. I mean, seriously, she ruined this,” you gestured between the two of you, “us. She tore us apart. You were my best friend, Rafe. There were times when we’d spend an entire week together, just the two of us, rotting in bed and sending Kelce and Topper stupid snaps, and then she came along, and… and everything changed overnight.”

Your brows furrowed deeply. “She’s such a disgusting person—no, scratch that—a creature. A monster. On the very first night I met her, she came up to me, and she had the nerve to question my relationship with you.” You shook your head with a grimace. “Like, she thought our friendship was too intimate or some bullshit like that. And I don’t know, I guess it got to me. What if she was right? I didn’t want to be the problem. I didn’t want to be a threat to your relationship with her.” You let your gaze drop. “So, I backed off.”

You groaned, frustration evident in your voice as you met his pretty blue eyes again. “God, I could just smash my head against the wall. I should’ve said something. To her, and especially to you! But I was so afraid that I was wrong about her. That I was blinded by my…” Feelings. You stopped yourself, the word stuck in your throat. “By my worry for you. I mean, at first, it seemed like she was good for you, so I stayed quiet. But by then, the damage was done and…” Your voice softened, almost like a question. “At some point, I thought, maybe if it was so easy to build a wall between us, then maybe our friendship was doomed to fail anyway.”

And there it was.

You’d said everything you’d bottled up, laid all your frustration out in front of him, and yet, there was still so much left unsaid. But you were exhausted, done with all of this, tired and pissed off, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath.

Rafe stared at you, his expression unreadable. Whether he was stunned, irritated, frustrated, you couldn’t tell. And this realization hurt all the more because you’d grown so far apart, you couldn’t even read his emotions anymore.

His brows twitched, eyeing you with a scowl as if there was some deep suppressed anger inside him.

Finally, after a moment of seemingly endless silence, he spoke. “Shit, this bitch has been right all along.”

His words hit you like a lightning strike and before you could ask the meaning of his words, Rafe closed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he pressed his lips to yours as if they were the only place he ever belonged.

Frozen, overwhelmed, and confused, you stood still. A thousand questions and emotions surged through you. But in that moment, you pushed them all aside and let yourself melt into it, fingers clinging to his shirt, afraid to let go.

The kiss was raw, desperate, hungry as if you were the only thing that could satisfy the emotions he’d been holding back. Rafe’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. Every pent-up feeling from the past few weeks poured out through the way his lips moved against yours.

And god, you felt so good. Your soft lips on his, the warmth of your body pressed against him.

Shit. Even though he’d had Sabrina beneath him night after night, thrusting into her mindlessly, in this moment, he felt so endlessly touch-starved.

Not for the empty satisfaction of release, no.

For you.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady yourselves.

Your lips were swollen from the kiss, and you were too scared and stunned to say anything, afraid that speaking would shatter the moment.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” Rafe finally said, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheek, his voice low and raw. “It’s you. It’s always been you, Y/n. Fuck, it wouldn’t have mattered if it was Sabrina or any other brain-dead bitch. When you call, I’ll come running every single time. And I almost lost you because of all her bullshit." He sighed, lowering his eyes for a second, trying to grapple his words. "I think, somewhere in my head, I convinced myself I wasn’t good enough for you. That you deserved better. So I went for girls like Sabrina. Girls who are... Shit, I don’t know, seemingly polished and perfect on the outside but completely empty on the inside.” His brows twitched, his voice quiet. “The kind of girl I thought I was supposed to be with.

“But she’s not perfect." He scoffed. "Holy shit, not even close. She’s pretentious and selfish, and she made me feel like I had to change just to fit into her world. But you?” He let out a nervous laugh, meeting your eyes again, a vulnerability in his tone you’d never heard before. “You’ve never wanted me to change. You’ve always let me be ... me, even when I’m a complete fucking idiot.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m not too much. Like I don’t have to prove anything.”

For a moment, his words hung in the air, sinking in. Your brain needed a second to fully process everything he’d just said. The weight of what just spilled out of him.

His blue eyes bore into your soul as if he were anxiously waiting for your approval, as if the way you returned his kiss hadn’t been answer enough. As if your next reaction would determine his entire life.

And then you laughed, a sweet and soft sound escaping your lips, cheeks burning, still hyper-aware of how his lips had felt on yours.

Overwhelmed, exhausted, and struggling to find the right words, you let your instincts take over. No words could describe how you felt in this moment. So, you let your action speak.

Your hands softly found his cheeks, pulling him back to your lips.

And Rafe? He didn’t hesitate. Fuck no, he took it as an invitation, wrapping his arms around you completely. His hands slid from your waist down to your hips, then lower. When he lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapped around his hip, your hands finding his neck.

This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, like both of you were trying to savor every second, afraid this moment might slip away the very next.

He pressed you gently against the wall, the cold surface sending a shiver down your spine.

Your body's reaction made him smile into the kiss before pulling back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I guess this isn’t exactly the most comfortable spot, huh?”

A soft laugh escaped you. And with that sweet little sound, the last stubborn traces of tension melted away. Days, weeks, months—all those nights spent alone in your bed, frustrated and hurt by this whole... fucked-up, messed-up situation.

And hell, you didn’t have—shit no—you didn’t want to waste a single ounce of energy or thought on that time anymore. So all you said was "Could be worse. I’m used to your lumpy mattress.”

“Yeah?” His eyes sparkled with playful mischief and his hands gave your butt a teasing squeeze. “Well, so far, all you’ve done is sleep in it.”

Heat rushed to your face, and before you could say anything, he adjusted his grip on you, holding you like he was afraid you might slip away. Your heart was racing, tumbling over itself in your chest, as he carried you upstairs, his arms steady but his pace a little too eager, a little too desperate, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

When he reached the top, he nudged the door open with his foot, and it felt like the rest of the world disappeared. No noise, no distractions, just you and him, in the quiet of his room, where nothing else mattered.

He set you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist like he couldn’t bring himself to let go. His lips found yours again. Not rushed, not frantic, but slow and deliberate, like he was making up for every second you’d been apart.

You felt the weight of it all in every kiss—weeks, months, maybe even years of suppressed feelings neither of you had dared to name.

His hands moved over you like he was memorizing you, tracing your body in a way that was equal parts hesitant and hungry, like he didn’t want to scare you but couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your fingers softly moved over his buzzed hair, pulling him closer, and he let out a low, almost broken sound against your lips that sent a shiver down your spine. His breath was warm as his kisses trailed down your neck, and it was overwhelming but in the best way possible.

That night, the room was filled with quiet laughter and soft murmurs, the sound of his name slipping from your lips like it was meant to. Rafe's touch was gentle but sure, every movement unspoken proof of just how much he'd missed you. The hours blurred together, and for once, nothing else mattered—just the two of you, tangled up and lost in each other like this was where you were always supposed to be.

And even though all of it—the candles, the balloons, the rose petals, a ring that never found its finger—had been meant for a manipulative bitch called Sabrina Anderson, she was already forgotten in both of your heads.

Erased by this moment. By you.

Because, like Valentine’s Days, she had always been all surface: pretty words, empty gestures, and nothing real beneath it.

And if you both were being honest, this cheesy day was overrated anyway. Like Rafe had said: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

And sometimes, fuck the person you end up confessing your love to at the end of it. Even—and maybe especially—if they were your former best friend.

R. C. M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

RAFE CAMERON who manages to grab the waistband of your little shorts, keeping you from escaping with the rest of the Pogues as they speed away. He yanks you into him, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift your feet from the ground. Hopelessly, you fight back, heartbroken your friends have to leave without you while you’re stuck on the boat that carries the Cross of Santo Domingo and the traitor who kept it out of the hands of its rightful owner. “Where’d you think you were goin’, huh?” Rafe’s smug and husky voice fills your ear, and instinctively you jerk away. Claws rake at his corded forearm pinning your back to his side but it’s no use. He lumbers off with you in hand.

Stuck with him in close proximity on this boat means you get no privacy. No room to yourself, no room to breathe. Rafe Cameron is breathing down your neck at every turn. You’re with the Pogues for life, but Rafe’s got a hold on you you can’t shake. You had no idea what to call it, friends, exes, lovers, you couldn’t label it. All you know is for the next couple weeks while he transports that cross he’s got your legs spread, speared on his dick, every which way. “S’good way to pass the time.” he tells you. Cock licking your insides with the deliberate roll of his hips, his cords of muscle moving fluidly under his skin. “I’m too soft on you, aren’t I? Y’know, you rebel against me, show me you’re tough, but when it comes down to it you’re begging me to put you in your place, huh? Where’s that place, baby?” His questions go unanswered as you can barely piece together what your name is let alone what he wants you to say. His pelvis drives harder, smacking skin on skin to a painful degree, until he squeezes choked sounds out of you. “Huh? Where’s it at?” he asserts with more force this time, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth.

“Right here, Rafey, right here.” you promise, clinging onto him tighter: hands in his shirt, legs wound around his torso, pussy pulsing. You belong right here underneath him and you know it.

“Don’t start that ‘Rafey’ shit with me, I’m pissed at’you.” he sneers, his intense eye contact demanding your attention when he grabs your chin to make you look at him. “You think they’re gonna come back for you? Naw, baby, you’re stuck with me. And there ain’t a thing you can do about it.”

[petriwriting]

That's my girl - JJ Maybank X Reader

Basically Reader beating the shit out of Ruthie. (Request!)

The sunset had everything illuminated in a peachy glow, You were situated on the beach with the Pogues, your head rested on JJ's shoulder as he sipped on a beer. Sarah and John B were laying on each other on the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the bonfire tha Pope was tending to while Cleo roasted marshmallows. The conversation had come to a quiet end, everyone enjoying the company. You had just finished passing around a blunt. Kie was practicing her Ukulele, which created a melody with the lapping waves and crackling fire. It was the perfect evening, Until it wasn't.

The Kook group, consisting of Topper, some of his buddies and Ruthie were all packed into Topper's jeep, with surfboards strapped to the top of it. The headlights were blinding, and their trashy rap music was blasted. "dude," kie said with an eye roll. "All this beach and they could have gone anywhere." John B mumbles. JJ stiffens, he's very protective over you and you all know he won't hesitate to fight for any of you. 

Topped hops out of the driver seat and wanders over, his crew is about 20 feet away setting up chairs and grabbing their boards. "hey!" he calls, you have to give him credit for at least trying. Ruthie is not far behind him. "Just trying to keep the peace here. No hard feelings alright? We're just here to night surf." he says, standing there awkwardly. Everyone stands up, defensively. JJ steps in front of you, you see Ruthie and her tacky expensive branded Bikini. "I don't believe that at all." Sarah rolls her eyes and mutters folding her arms. "There's miles of beach. Why here?" Kie snaps at him. "It's just where we ended up." Topper says. He shrugs. Ruthie folds her arms. "This is our beach anyway." Ruthie chimes in with a smug look. "You don't own the island." You snap back."

This is typical banter, The kooks are bullies, and this childish rivalry doesn't end just because  Topper doesn't enjoy the conflict. "We do now." Ruthie steps up to your face, but before she could get more than a few inches closer, JJ is in front of you. "Hey, just back off." He says through gritted teeth, it's a warning and it is fair. Ruthie just laughs. "Stray dogs don't belong on the beach." Ruthie snarls, glancing between JJ and John B. "Careful Top," she says, grabbing his arm. "This one looks like it has rabies." She said right to JJ's face. 

"I'd watch your back if i was you," you snapped at her. "Knock it off. We can play nice. it's not hard." Topper says, to both of you. Ruthie folds her arms and kicks the sand. The group is now irritated, and ready to leave. "How about you back the fuck off? Yeah?" JJ threatened, getting up in Toppers' face. You grabbed his arm and nudged for him to back off, to avoid the conflict. Even though you were pissed off at the rude comment, You didn't want physical violence to be the first reaction everytime you crossed paths with the Kooks. Topper stared intensely for a moment, he was trying to be intimidating, although it wasn't really working. As He and Ruthie started to walk off you heard Ruthie mutter something under her breath and scoffed. "How about you learn to control your bitch..." she muttered.

Before anyone could really say or do anything, you've already lashed out. Topper and his buddies have caused endless problems all summer, and you reached a boiling point. Everyone was surprised JJ hadn't snapped first, and he really wanted to.

Sarah covered her mouth in shock. "Oh my god," Pope says. "Shit," JJ says, now smiling. "That's my girl!" he cheers.

upon insulting your boyfriend, You slapped Ruthie across the face, hard enough for her lip to start bleeding. You had then grabbed her by her ponytail and dragged her across the sand. She's now sprawled across the sand frantically, and Topper rushes to her side. You kick her in her side and she groans.

"Say it to my face next time cunt." You quip at her. As a final blow you kick sand into their faces. "You fucking psycho!" she spat, you rolled your eyes, sincerely hoping her bloody nose is broken.

The rest of your group take this as a cue to dip, grabbing everything and rushing towards the Twinkie that was parked not too far from where you all had been hanging out. You ran off with JJ's hand in yours as John B drove you all to safety. Away from the scene.

"That was kinda awesome," Cleo encourages with a nod. JJ slings an arm around you proud to be able to call you his. "That was well deserved though, she was being a bitch." Kie chimes in. "I think you ripped her extensions out." Sarah giggled. This is exactly why you loved these people, instead of a lecture you were encouraged, and supported endlessly. JJ thought that it was HOT. and couldn't wait to show you later in private how attractive it was when you were protective over your friends, or him.

[maybejj]

CRIMINAL LOVE PART 1

♥︎ masterlist ♥︎

SOCIAL MEDIA AU AND IRL, 18+ MDNI

rafe cameron x college!reader

warnings: mentions of stabbing, mentions of drugs

summary: With your last semester of grad school breezing by, you felt like you could sleep through the next couple of months and still graduate at the top of your class. You only had to get through 3 more months until you walked across the stage and rightfully earned your Master in Criminal Justice degree. All your hard work would finally be paid off. Until your professor hits you with one last assignment that will make you question everything. The assignment? Prisoner Penpals from the State of North Carolina Correctional Facility. Your penpal? Rafe Cameron. His sentence? Life without parole. His crime? First degree murder.

Part 2

Notes: welcome to part 1 of criminal love! if you read closely I’ve thrown in a little easter egg from my gossip girl series, if you catch it let me know! these stories are not at all connected, just having some fun! also Barry from outer banks doesn’t have a last name so I kept the actors actual last name. i’m super excited for this story so let me know what you think so far! thank you for reading as always 🫶🏻

taglist: @marleymarleymarleymarley

[gensideas]

LOVE IN THE SPOTLIGHT

summary Y/N Sánchez, daughter of Roselyn Sánchez, appeared on Jimmy Kimmel with her fiancé, Drew Starkey. While Y/N spoke confidently about her career, Drew couldn’t hide his admiration, often losing focus as he gazed at her. His lovestruck demeanor contrasted with Y/N’s composure, creating a sweet and memorable moment that left fans swooning over their undeniable chemistry.

features Fiancé!Drew Starkey x Fiancé!actress!reader

The bright lights of the studio shone down on me as I adjusted the hem of my flowing emerald-green dress. It hugged my figure perfectly, a piece from a designer who had insisted I wear it to highlight my poise and grace. But I wasn’t thinking about the dress or the cameras pointed at me. I was thinking about Drew Starkey, my fiancé, sitting just a few feet away. His piercing blue eyes followed my every movement, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Being the daughter of the legendary actress Roselyn Sánchez, I was a rising star in my own right. My breakout role in a critically acclaimed drama had catapulted me to the spotlight, and now I was the name on every producer’s lips. Despite my rapid ascent, I remained grounded, thanks in no small part to Drew, whose quiet confidence and unwavering support made him my anchor.

“We’re ready for you,” a producer’s voice called.

I gave Drew a quick glance. He gave me a reassuring nod, though his gaze lingered a bit too long. My beauty had always captivated him, but tonight, under the soft glow of studio lights, I felt otherworldly.

The interview set was elegant, with plush chairs and a backdrop of shimmering gold curtains. I took my seat beside Drew, the host across from us. The audience clapped enthusiastically, the excitement palpable.

“Good evening, everyone!” Jimmy began, flashing a practiced smile. “Tonight, we have two incredible guests: the stunning Y/N Sánchez and her fiancé, the talented Drew Starkey. Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The applause swelled, and my cheeks flushed. I glanced at Drew, who was already looking at me, his expression soft and unguarded. He seemed utterly unaware of the cameras or the audience—his world had narrowed to just me.

“Y/N, your performance in Eclipsed Dreams has been called transformative. How does it feel to step out of your mother’s shadow and establish your own legacy?” Jimmy asked.

My smile widened. “It’s surreal. Growing up, I always admired my mother’s work, but she encouraged me to find my own path. It’s been a challenging journey, but I’m grateful for the opportunities and for the people who believe in me.”

Jimmy turned to Drew. “And Drew, you’ve been quite the supportive partner. What’s it like watching Y/N rise to stardom?”

Drew chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, it’s mesmerizing. She’s incredibly talented, hardworking, and… well, look at her.” He gestured toward me, his voice tinged with awe. “She’s breathtaking.”

The audience swooned, and my face turned a deeper shade of pink. “You’re too much,” I murmured, though the sparkle in my eyes revealed my delight.

“Drew, you’ve built an impressive career yourself,” Jimmy continued. “What’s the key to balancing your own busy schedule with supporting Y/N?”

“Communication and respect,” Drew said. “We both have demanding careers, but we make time for each other. It helps that we genuinely enjoy spending time together—she’s my favorite person.”

“That’s so sweet,” Jimmy said, turning back to me. “Y/N, do you find inspiration in Drew’s work?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Drew is so dedicated to his craft. Watching him immerse himself in his roles motivates me to give my all in my own performances. We’re constantly learning from each other.”

“It sounds like you have a wonderful partnership,” Jimmy said. “One last question: What’s next for both of you?”

I exchanged a glance with Drew before answering. “I’m working on a new project that’s still under wraps, but I’m really excited about it. It’s something completely different from anything I’ve done before.”

“And I’ve got a couple of films lined up,” Drew added. “But we’re also making sure to carve out some time for ourselves. Life is about balance, after all.”

The audience applauded as Jimmy wrapped up the interview. “Y/N and Drew, thank you so much for joining us tonight. We can’t wait to see what the future holds for you both.”

When the cameras stopped rolling, we lingered on the set, chatting with the host and producers. Drew’s hand never left mine, a quiet but constant reassurance.

“You were incredible,” Drew whispered as we walked toward our car. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“You’re biased,” I teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling me close. “But it’s the truth.”

We paused under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, the city’s hum around us. Drew cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You’re a star, and not just on screen.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I leaned into his touch. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

Our lips met in a tender kiss, sealing a moment that felt timeless.

The interview aired the following evening, and social media exploded with praise. Fans gushed over my grace and Drew’s evident adoration. A clip of Drew’s comment about my beauty went viral, earning us the nickname “Hollywood’s Sweethearts.”

As we sat together in our cozy living room, scrolling through the flood of messages, Drew wrapped an arm around me. “Looks like people are just as mesmerized by you as I am.”

“By us,” I corrected, resting my head on his shoulder. “We’re a team, Drew.”

He kissed the top of my head. “The best team.”

And as the night stretched on, filled with laughter and love, I knew that no matter how bright my star shone, it would always shine brightest with Drew by my side.

© gensideas 2024

[melodymissworld]

K4L / RAFE C. 18+

Summary: like Kiara’s devotion to the environment or whatever the fuck she does, Rafe was down to earth for your body no matter how insecure you felt about your weight.

Tags: body insecurity, intense anxiety, judgment, pathetic!Rafe — (brief segment of oral sex, overstimulation, and praise).

Polished, shiny, and fuckin’ new; that’s all the attributes that he hated in the girls that were picking on you.

The feud began on a regular Tuesday night. You and Rafe were currently attending a frat party that was hosted by his friend, Topper. You withheld a certain distaste for the Kook, because you thought he was an S-tier asshole towards Sarah. True looks won’t show unless he’s hidden behind the shadows.

You were originally sitting next to Rafe on a brown leather couch. Surrounded by a group of Kooks, there were a plethora of drugs and alcohol to go around. You stared at the reflected cocaine that wasn’t-so neatly smeared on the coffee table. By the time you lifted your red solo cup to your lips, nothing poured into your mouth.

“Oh,” you blinked and retracted your cup from your face. You glimpsed inside of the cup, and there wasn’t a single droplet of liquid in sight. It was empty.

Rafe hears your mutter and turned his head around. The once-arrogant expression on his face left and is replaced with quiet concern. He leans over to your side. “You okay, babe?” His tone was hush.

“Yeah... I’m okay. I think I’m gonna get another drink,” you insinuated.

His hand reaches over to curl your hair behind your ear. “Do you want me to get it for you…?” His eyes flickered over your face. You shook his head from his offer. “Mm-mm. I’m fine, thank you.”

Satisfied with your answer, he hums. “Mhm? Yeah? Alright.” Rafe tucked his head down to pepper a few kisses on your neck, sending mild shivers down your spine.

In the kitchen, it didn’t have to take a genius to figure out that someone was eyeing you. And not in a friendly manner.

You first poured alcohol into your cup. Not too much since you weren’t in the mood to getting wasted, but Rafe’s? Almost to the cup’s brim, specially branded. While you were minding your own business, Jessica eyed you, she leaned over to her friend and mutters, “It looks like Y/N blew up like a ballon over the summer.” The comment made both the girls giggle and if it wasn’t worse enough, you were standing right beside them. It wasn’t like they were trying to hide their revulsion against you, anyways.

Their words made your stomach clench.

You were a full-on, born and raised Kook. You’ve emotionally dealt with numerous situations related to your appearance - ranging from the academy to parties - you should’ve been lashing towards their belittlement by now. The behavior wasn’t cute, and yet was totally normalized by your community.

So why, when this time, it bothered you so much?

Your mind repeated their words over and over like a never-ending record player. Your consciousness prickled at the fact that your sweater felt too hot on your skin, or the throat tightening that restricts your air at its own will without your say. You could not ask or confront the girls as anxiety had molded your feet into heavy stone, and your other limbs were no different. There is no plea when your past rewinds itself in your heart, and you remember. You remember everything, down to the definitive speck, and for the first time in forever, you couldn’t breathe.

I don’t deserve Rafe. Why did he choose me? Tears blurred your vision from the haunting sentiment. To even think about him, holding another girl’s waist and gazing upon her face with adoring eyes — oh, it made your heart burn aflame. Like a river, the insecurities you thought you eradicated from whatever healing progress you went through was thrown out and is deemed as useless. Completely and utterly useless, and the unnecessary fear that ran deep throughout your bones had skinned your guarded confidence until your skeleton was bare for everyone’s eyes to witness.

You needed to leave. And by instinct, you were already leaving house with their malicious words ringing in your ears.

You weren’t answering his calls.

You were curled up in your bed with the same party clothes you wore from earlier, staring at nothing but your window. You felt like a dead fish waiting for something to disintegrate you into the sand. You didn’t feel well, and your phone continued to buzz on your bed sheets.

You knew that you should’ve picked up his calls, and yet, the guilt had settled on your chest.

By the time it strikes 15 minutes, the buzzing stopped.

Every sound bounced in between the silence. A small exhale retracted from your mouth, and you turned your head to bury your face into your pillows.

But as you were least expecting, there was a subtle sound of a car rearing into your house’s driveway. At first, you thought it was your parents coming home, but there was no possible way, because they were currently on their honeymoon vacation.

And then, the puzzle pieces clicked together.

“Are you stupid?” He angrily clenched his jaw tight.

“What?” You lifted your head up from surprise. In the five minutes of your conversation with Rafe, that was the last thing you expected him to say.

He frowns and processes a deep crease between his eyebrows. “Why, in any case, would you believe them?” His question exasperated true confusion. “You’re drilling their unreasonable words into your pretty little head, sweetheart.”

“I’m not dumb, it’s just…” your eyes flickered away for a semblance answer. You pursed your lips and sniffles, wiping your tears away from your cheeks. “…if I’m going to be honest, it’s tough when I can’t be the ideal girlfriend that everyone expects me to be. Sometimes, I just think ‘oh, I’m not skinny enough,’ or ‘that girl looks prettier than me, why can’t I be like her?’ When you see me and think I’m okay, I’m really, really not Rafe.” You could feel the tip of your nose growing warm and your bottom lip trembled. “I haven’t… felt like myself in awhile. My self-esteem feels so shit and I can’t—… I just can’t…” you softly shook your head and bowed your head down to hide your face. You were scared for his response. You were uncertain if he’ll scoff at your true admissions and dismiss your feelings, or—

“Hey- hey, hey, no. Look at me.” His fingers brushed underneath your chin and he gently made you look up, his worried eyes piercing down at your face. “I— Y/N. I don’t give a single fuck of what those bitches are sayin’ about you, or, or if they think you’re fat.” His hand motioned beside his head, a lingering habit he does when he’s trying to accumulate his words, and his eyes stuttered a blink. “You matter to me, alright? Not Jessica, not Brittney, but me,” he harshly emphasizes his words. “All me. Fuck of what they have to say; they can blab their mouths all they want, but every crevice of your skin, of you, haunts my head daily and— and there were so many nights where I couldn’t sleep because I craved for you, baby, nothing else.” He shakily exhales as he licked his dried lips, letting your face go to run his hands through his hair.

You were completely enamored from his sudden outburst and your jaw dropped, unable to formulate any coherent response. The anxiety that had once viciously clawed your chest is now gone and from hearing his reassurance, his words soothed the suffocating voices in your head.

“I- I…” your eyes flickered away as you tried to search for an answer. You were unable to when he lifts your hand to his cheek. “Please,” his whisper trailed in a breathless croak and he trails your fingers down his face, brushing your knuckles against his warm lips. “Please, please, please, just let me show how much you mean to me, baby. You drive me insane.” He lowly croaked.

His head didn’t let up. You were desperately gasping for air, and he continued.

“Y’so pretty for me, doll.” He moans a muffled mumble between your thighs and he couldn’t help but flutter an eye-roll back. You were so good, it was so much, and dug his blunt-nailed fingers further into your plush flesh as he ate you out.

Your dazed eyes took a glimpse at your clock for a moment, and it read 2:08AM.

He’s been eating you out for approximately an hour. Or two. Who knows.

All you understood that this was between you, him, and the door lock that glued your dignity all together.

“U-ugh—“ you stammered from your mouth. Everything was spinning in the room and your legs clenched tighter around his head, his buzzed hair brushing up on your skin. “R-Rafe, Rafe— I- I can’t—“ you blubbered a whine as your elbows scrambled to sit yourself upwards on the bed. His competitive nature was relentless and the translation was inscribed all over your body - ranging from dark, bitten teeth-marks underneath your breasts and thighs, to his fingertips digging moon-crescent marks on your hips.

“Cream all over my tongue, angel— there you go.” He groans from pure satisfaction and continuously tapped his tongue on your clit. If you couldn’t had enough, tears rolled down your cheeks and your throat pulses a whimper. You were the picture-perfect image he searched for, and you looked so pretty that it made his head hurt. He reaches a hand down to adjust his boxers, a small noise slipping through his throat as he furrowed his eyebrows, focused. “That’s it… mhm.” He desperately groveled for your dripping essence as you came on his tongue; he was consuming his meal like a starving man, and a certain oversensitivity struck your body at once. It left your thighs trembling and when you tried to pathetically shift your hips away from his face, he only followed and buries his muscle deeper into your swollen, wet folds. He wanted to memorize how you felt squirming underneath his touch, how much time he could use until your body gave up. Spit was drooling from his lips, nasty boy, but he doesn’t mind when he’s tasting you.

A/N: oh em gee, helloooo!!! You have no idea how excited I was to write this!! ヽ(≧∀≦)ﾉ I think I would’ve fleshed out more of the situational/physical world building in the story, but I was totally hypothesized by the emotional sentiments, so the story takes two heavy hits since this is barely edited and revised, lol.

I wanted to explore the less-intense side of Rafe and how important it is to acknowledge that our bodies aren’t only fragments in the human judgment, but also that we are complex; the human experience is incredibly fascinating, and I find that we aren’t supposed to stay stagnant in a world that is full of possibilities. I apologize if some of the parts were intense, as I’ve observed - especially in the modern reality - that high-class attributions tend to expect so much from women, although they receive so little towards the end.

Furthermore, this is for anyone in general, but it is worth to note that social media has worsened this conserved image of what younger girls should be, even when there is immense struggle to keep this ‘perfect idealization’ for strangers. To leave you with my rambling thoughts, I thank you so much for reading!!! I deeply appreciate the support you have given me to push myself forward in writing. Much love, xoxo💋💋

[stillhangingonthetelephone]

Y'know what they say about nerds? - J.J.M

jj maybank x reader || alternate universe || established relationship

blurb || You and your boyfriend, JJ, are cleaning out his room at The Chateau when you find a pair of his old glasses.

word count || 1,122

content warning || explicit s*xual content, [oral, reader receiving]

my first post, plz be nice lol!

-ˋˏ [proceed...] ˎˊ

The day has been seemingly endless, between the impossibly-hard-to-find-and-pick tape ends, and the long hauls bringing boxes out of the house, you both were getting tired. Why did your boyfriend even own this much stuff? You had always tagged him as more of a 'I live outta my backpack' kind of guy.

"Only a few more boxes now babe." You tiredly smile at him, whilst he lays face down on his freshly stripped bed.

Your hands wander over his littered side table, empty beer cans— God you'd seen too many of those today— random assortments of jewellery, and baseball caps skewed messily over the wooden structure. It is when you're pushing all of the stuff into their respective boxes when your hand hits an unfamiliar object.

"No way." You mutter.

JJ's head perks up at your tantalising tone of voice, a clear indicator of your usual teasing. Dread plasters itself on his face, however, when he sees what you're holding in your hands.

You have never seen your boyfriend move that fast, he jolts up from his previous— lazy position. You're struck with an excited fear as he runs up to you— his eyes focused on your hand, you slide past his last second and he almost plants himself into the nearest wall. "What?" You slip out past your hysterical laughing at his immediacy.

"Give 'em to me y/n." He says sternly but not grave enough for you to take him seriously.

The cold, black, matte frames in your hand make you smile and you walk towards him slowly. "I won't let you live this down, Jay— just put them on."

He sighs and leans his head back in a groan.

"Pleeeaassseee?" You plead with him and step even closer.

The huff he lets out goes amiss with your excitement, his calloused hands remain by his side and he allows you to slip them over his eyes.

Your silence worries him— his eyebrows furrow, mirroring the fear. "Well? Say— somethin! Make fun of me at least." He says awkwardly.

A soft snort escapes you, your hands flying up to your face in an attempt to muffle it. JJ attempts to move them off— his demeanour noticeably shifting, the laugh dies in your throat and you hold your hands up to the frames.

"Hey— no, I didn't mean it like that." His face softens at your hands moving to cradle his cheeks. "You just— kind of looked, I don't know, nerdy."

You smile when a chuckle bypasses his lips, the familiar JJ returning.

"I had 'em when I was like— fourteen." He looks past you with a stupid grin, his words mumbled faintly in embarrassment. "Nerdy— is exactly what they are."

Again, his tone shifts at the end of his sentence, it almost goes unnoticed by you.

"Yeah— well," You smirk and kiss his temple, then moving to brush your lips against his ear: "Y'know what they say about nerds?"

His hands falter at your waist with the mimicked southern drawl of his accent mirrored in your suggestive voice.

"They give the best head."

His hands, have you— really have you as he picks you up. He wastes no time in throwing you down on the bed and climbing in between your legs. Your lips collide in a frenzy of passion and need— his teeth biting hard on your bottom lip until you're sure it's bleeding a little. It forces a whine from your mouth which grants him the chance to push his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He explores the warm, wet cavern and your hands pull desperately on his bicep and jaw— just enough to pull a baritone moan out of him.

When you break away from the kiss he watches you through hooded eyes and his hands fiddle with the zipper and button of your shorts— shoving them down and discarding them on the ground. You shudder at the feeling of his mouth dancing over your thighs, his fingers dip just underneath the hem of your underwear and his teasing almost feels like too much and your mewl of dissatisfaction makes him smile.

"Patience doll." He whispers in his bedroom-sultry-accent, his hair brushing and teasing your inner thighs.

His mouth lands painfully over your clothed cunt— the thin material doing practically nothing to disguise the feeling of his tongue. The breath shortens in your throat, the action making your head fall back into the mattress. JJ's smirk burns into your skin and you push his head back playfully. You squeak as he finally rips down your underwear, your core aching in anticipation.

"You're so fuckin' wet." He growls out and he wastes no time in diving down to your glistening folds.

The feeling of his tongue finally lapping at your cunt makes your legs shake instantaneously— his mouth works hungrily at your core and eventually your hand interlocks in his mop of blond hair. You pull it as he pushes his mouth further into you, just roughly enough to feel him grumble against you. His thumb circles over your clit and your mind blanks— solely focusing on the pleasure that courses through your body.

JJ ruts into the edge of the memory foam, it makes you whine to think that he's getting off on your enjoyment. You look down at him— the sight itself is heavenly, his face buried so impossibly deep between your thighs and his hands snaking around your hips to pin you down to the bed. When he looks up at you though, it's fucking sinful. His eyes— blown out and erotic, meet yours as he looks up through the lenses of his glasses. He swaps out his thumb for his mouth, and sucks messily on your clit, pushing his ring and middle finger into your hole, all the while— maintaining eye contact. Your back arches into his touch, and you buck up into his mouth— the room's filled with the sound of your soaked noises.

"So fucking good for me Jay—" You gasp desperately and he thrusts his fingers into you at a euphoric rate.

You see stars when you finally come, your hands gripping his hair so hard it almost lifts his head from your cunt but he just moves harder and faster, helping you ride out your orgasm. The shaking of your thighs and wobbly breaths bring JJ up to you again, he's wearing a shit-eating grin on his face but you couldn't care less as you wrap your arms round his neck. He presses a lengthy kiss to your lips and breaks it off.

"I guess the rumours can be confirmed." You laugh and it combines with his.

"Glasses are a keep then?" He jokes.

"Glasses are definitely a keep."

[isthlsfate]

⌞ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 ⌝

‧₊˚ ⏾ ༉‧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: rafe cameron x black!kook!reader, girl dad!rafe, angst, slow burn, mild language, mentions of alcohol consumption, implication of unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), & pregnancy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k

‧₊˚ ⏾ ༉‧

november mornings in poguelandia are crisp. clean, like the salt in the air is trying to scrub you of everything you’ve ever been.

you’re restocking the minnow lures when sarah walks in with your daughter on her hip, both faces pink from the cool air.

“you’re late,” you tease without looking up. your daughter squeals at the sound of your voice, arms outstretched as she reaches for you.

“only five minutes!” sarah laughs, passing the toddler over. “i had to stop for breakfast. she saw a chicken biscuit and almost dove out of the car.”

your daughter wiggles against your chest, tiny hands patting your cheeks as you tickle her sides.

“my baby’s got taste.”

sarah chuckles, moving behind the counter.

the shop is slow this time of year, only the occasional fisherman passing through, but you don’t mind, and neither do the pogues.

it’s peaceful.

after everything you all lost and found again on that godforsaken island, peace is sacred.

even still, there’s the low hum of life in poguelandia. the faint clang of pope fixing the solar panels, jj hollering about a busted cooler, kie dragging a chalkboard out to scribble the day’s specials. it’s home. makeshift, salty, stubborn—but it’s home.

you hold your daughter close, pressing a kiss to her curly crown.

“gonna be a long day, huh, baby?”

“fishy, mama!” she giggles, showing all her teeth.

“yes, fishy.” you set her down gently, and she toddles over to sarah, who immediately scoops her back up onto her hip like she’s part of her own.

the bell above the door jingles. you don’t look right away, thinking it’s just a customer.

then you hear the voice.

“uh…hey.”

your spine stiffens. you turn, slowly.

rafe cameron stands in the doorway, his hair buzzed low, jaw sharper, like time had something to prove against him.

he looks older, but still like himself. still blue-eyed, broad-shouldered, and carrying that same cocky tension in his stance like he never quite learned how to relax.

he sees your daughter in sarah’s arms and falters.

“didn’t know you two were working here.”

“didn’t know you were still breathing,” sarah mutters behind you.

you ignore her, focusing on how rafe’s eyes can’t seem to leave your daughter. the slow shift in his expression, from awkwardness to something unreadable. his mouth opens, like he’s going to say something, but then the toddler lets out a little hiccup-laugh and the spell breaks.

“i was just—i heard about this place,” rafe says quickly. “wanted to check it out.”

you nod once. curt. you move past him to grab your daughter from sarah, setting her down with her toys. her tiny curls bounce as she bounces around, and you feel rafe’s eyes following her the whole way.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

one look at him, and every memory you buried claws its way back to the surface.

you’re drunk. dangerously so. so is he.

you’d been friends your whole lives, running barefoot through figure eight and spending summers drenched in saltwater and secrets. you’d known the bad parts of him, but were fortunate enough to see the good parts too—the parts his father tried to beat out.

the real rafe.

and tonight, the drinks had turned to laughter, and the laughter soon turned to silence; thick, heavy, laced with everything unsaid.

“don’t look at me like that,” you whisper, but he doesn’t stop.

you shove him playfully. he grabs your wrist.

“i mean it, rafe.”

his hand trembles against your skin.

“i haven’t stopped.”

“what?”

“looking at you,” he breathes, voice rough. “wanting you.”

your body is inches from his, his lips already too close. your heart pounds.

you’re not supposed to do this. it’ll ruin everything. it’ll break the last thing in your life that makes sense.

but when he kisses you, you let him.

and when he begins to unzip your dress with shaking fingers, you let him.

somehow you ended up in the backseat of his car—limbs tangled, mouths greedy, drunken giggles replaced by moans. it was messy and clumsy and desperate.

and when you wake up in his bed the next morning in silence, his back to you, unsure how you got there, you gather your things and leave.

you didn’t plan to sleep with your best friend. you didn’t mean for your goodbye to feel like that.

but you knew it was the end.

you ghosted him the next day. changed your number. didn’t look back.

and six weeks later, the positive pregnancy test made you sick to your stomach.

rafe starts showing up more.

he doesn’t say much. sometimes he buys bait he doesn’t use. sometimes he pretends to talk to pope about fishing gear. other times he stands around and asks kie questions he clearly doesn’t care about.

mostly, he just watches you.

you avoid him, try to ignore it, but you feel the pressure building like a wave pulling back before the crash.

your daughter warms up to him quickly.

she waves, offers him cheerios, even tries to give him her pink stuffed dolphin. rafe doesn’t know what to do with that kind of love. it stuns him every time.

“he’s got balls,” sarah says one day, watching him through the window. “showing up here like nothing happened.”

“he doesn’t know the half of it,” you whisper.

“but he’ll find out. and when he does…”

you nod, knowing all too well.

jj notices your discomfort.

“yo, what’s he doing here again?”

“don’t know. don’t care.” you shrug.

but you do, and jj can tell.

“just say the word,” he mutters, cracking his knuckles.

“not yet.”

*

you were five months pregnant when sarah found out.

you cried for hours. she didn’t ask questions, just held you.

“you gonna tell him?”

you shook your head, numb.

“he doesn’t deserve this. not when he couldn’t even care enough to look for me.”

sarah didn’t argue. she just stayed.

you had some weak moments, ones where you thought you’d come clean. every time you saw his name in your contacts, your thumb hovered and quickly chickened out. you’d start to type, then delete.

the words didn’t come easy: she looks like you. she has your eyes. she laughs like you used to, before everything went wrong.

how do you tell someone they’re a father when they haven’t even figured out how to be a man?

*

he catches you on a quiet afternoon.

your daughter is napping in the back, and sarah’s gone for a supply run.

you’re shelving tackle boxes when he corners you in the back aisle.

you spin around, nearly colliding with his chest.

“jesus, rafe—”

“is she mine?” his voice is low. deadly quiet.

your heart slams. you stare at him.

“w-what?”

“ramona.” he says her name like it’s sacred. like it hurts. “is she mine?”

“rafe—“

“don’t lie to me, please.”

his eyes are burning. his jaw’s tight. you’ve never seen him like this.

“you don’t get to ask me that,” you whisper. “not now.”

“then when?” his voice breaks. “you were my best friend. you disappear, and now—now there’s a kid, and she looks like me, and she smiles like me and—fuck, you think i didn’t know something was off?”

you clench your fists.

“i was alone, rafe. you don’t know what that was like.”

“you didn’t even give me a chance.”

“because you didn’t care!” you shout, and it echoes off the wooden walls. “you didn’t look for me. you didn’t call. you went back to your life like i didn’t matter.”

he flinches.

“i was messed up.”

“i was pregnant,” you scoff. that shuts him up.

you wipe your face roughly, angry that you’re crying.

“she’s yours,” you finally muster.

he sways like you punched him, sitting down hard on the bait freezer.

“how old is she?”

“two.”

“and you didn’t think i deserved to know?”

“i didn’t think you could handle it,” you snap. “you were spiraling, rafe. drugs. fights. your dad was dead and you were trying to self-destruct. i had to protect her.”

“you had to protect yourself.”

“maybe.”

the silence is brutal.

“i wanna see her.” he stands, slowly. “please.”

you hesitate, searching his eyes for something insincere. when you don’t find it, you sigh, leading him further into the back where she’s resting.

ramona wakes up groggy. she sees him and clutches your leg.

rafe crouches to her level, careful not to get too close.

“hey,” he says softly. “i’m rafe.”

your daughter blinks at him. he picks up one of her fallen crayons and hands it to her.

she takes it, then offers him another.

you watch them color on the floor of the bait shop. his big hands awkward around the tiny crayon, her giggles bubbling with each misshapen heart he draws.

he glances at you, eyes soft and scared. you’re sure your own expression is just the same.

for the following week, he shows up with all types of gifts for ramona: snacks, crayons, a stuffed bear.

you try to stay annoyed.

but when he’s holding her—her head tucked under his chin, his arms sure and gentle—you feel something crack.

and when he whispers to her, thinking you can’t hear:

“i’m gonna be better. for you. for her.”

you run off to cry in the stockroom.

*

months have passed, and although your personal relationship with rafe is still rocky, he and ramona have become two peas in a pod. he’s gone so far as to start picking her up and taking her home with him to give you some much needed time to yourself.

you’re locking up when you see them outside on the dock.

she’s holding his hand, pointing at fish in the water.

he’s kneeling beside her, nodding seriously like every word she says is gospel.

you step out, arms folded.

“shop’s closed.”

“just visiting.” he smiles.

you sit beside them, something you’ve refrained from doing, afraid you’ll fall all over again from seeing him step up as a father.

ramona climbs into his lap, yawning.

“you good?” you ask.

“better than i’ve ever been,” he says.

he reaches for your hand. to your surprise, you let him take it.

his thumb brushes your knuckles. a silent apology. a quiet promise. and for the first time in a long, long time, it feels like home.

you don’t notice john b and the others until he whistles from the porch of the bunkhouse.

“damn,” he calls. “should we start setting a place for rafe at dinner now or wait till he moves in?”

you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

“shut up, john b,” you and sarah both groan in unison.

ramona perks up.

“john b-b-b-b,” she giggles, repeating it like a song.

“that’s uncle john b to you,” he teases, walking over and ruffling her curls.

she leans into his touch, then turns to rafe and pats his cheeks gently, just like she does to you when she wants your attention.

“dada,” she mumbles absentmindedly, pointing at the sky. you freeze, heart in your throat.

rafe doesn’t say anything at first. he just smiles and kisses her temple.

“yeah, baby,” he murmurs. “i see it too.”

you glance at him—really look—and for the first time, the ache in your chest feels a little less sharp. a little less lonely.

from the porch, kie watches the three of you and smirks.

“god, we’re so back.” she mutters under her breath.

___

꩜ taglist: @chromeheartsbaby , @qveendiorsworld , @mygologyv, @purewhines

starting a rafe taglist, pls lmk if you’d like to be removed ❤️

[supercap2319]

Y/N: "Has anyone ever told you that you look like a fucking slut in that snapback?"

Rafe: "No. Why?"

Y/N: "Because you are".

[salem-s]

SUNRISES, PENALTIES, AND LOSING SLEEP OVER YOU ── RAFE CAMERON ONE SHOT

SYNOPSIS when Rafe can't sleep, he ends up at the soccer field to get some practice in. however, he can't seem to stop his sunrise practices when he discovers the pretty girl who reads on the bleachers is there every morning.

WARNINGS language, so much fluff??? consists of jock!rafe and nerd-ish!reader, college au, mainly rafe pov.

WORD COUNT 5.6k.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER everything is embarrassing by sky ferreira

Rafe contradicts himself this time -- he actually doesn't mind being up before the sun if that means some more practice...and some peace and quiet.

Surprisingly, he's quite the night owl, fighting the plague that puts him to sleep by distracting himself with literally anything he can get his hands on, even if that meant school work that's been pushed off for the last minute. He can go all night at a bar and he's the only one out of his friends to be able to actually pull all nighters on their designated movie night.  

While this has severely skewed his sleeping schedule, Rafe prefers to get things done while the rest of the world around him is asleep, you know, for some alone time.

Sure, Rafe's a pretty social guy: he enjoys time with friends and his teammates and classmates, and he definitely jumps at the chance to spend time with them whenever he can. It's a pretty rare occurrence where he isn't with someone or talking to someone, because he's a light converser and easy to fall in stride with. He's the stranger that people often fall in love with and never see again, perhaps it's the handsomely boyish smile or his ability to talk to a brick wall. 

And yet, there's moments like right now where some alone time is needed. 

Once again, Rafe's been up for nearly a day now, the sun just peaking over the horizon behind him, signaling the start of a lot of people's days (and the end of his, since it's Saturday and he'll need to recharge before going out tonight). The sleep simply...doesn't come to him.

Not easily, anyway.

After nights out with his friends (or when they go to bed), Rafe normally tinkers with things in his room, building trinkets from scratch or blueprinting random designs because he's bored, which he doesn't normally admit to people. His ability to draw was something his father always told him to push down deep, to ignore and focus on the money-driven careers of the world: business, science, all that crap.

Well, his father isn't here. And even if he was, Rafe wouldn't really care, anyway.

Sleep doesn't come very naturally to him during the night, which is highly unusual considering he has no insomnia or trouble sleeping. He just doesn't get tired. Usually the sunrise shining through his window signals him to try and sleep. 

He doesn't recall the last time he's really looked at a sunrise, this time being exceptional with colors portraying burning passion and dragon fruit, and the dirty-blond hums to himself, halting his movements to stop and enjoy it for a second.

The soccer ball planted on the ground by his foot is still as Rafe's balance. He holds himself together to take a deep breath in and observe the world around him.

Sure, he's never up this early but, goddamn, it really is pretty.

Hues of pink, orange, purple emerge in sight, getting lighter by the second and changing into something more tranquil. He's at ease. There's something more content and comforting about sunrises than sunsets, and while he cannot put his finger on the exact reason, he deems this a fact. 

Rafe mentally notes to do some sunrise workouts more often. 

At his university, he's on the club soccer team, which isn't the big leagues but it keeps him and shape and the competition isn't nearly as stressful, which he likes. Rafe enjoys the sport to have fun, and while he does care about winning and beating these other lame schools, at the end of the day it's just putting a ball through a net and spending time with his teammates, so he never holds a grudge if his team loses.

He's spent so many years fighting for love, fighting for affection, fighting for meaningless trophies to impress his father that in the end he just...realized it is what it is. Once Rafe learned the implication of life will happen anyway regardless of how certain things go, his outlook on competition changed.

Anger subsided into contention, rage simmered into acceptance, and fear contorted to nonchalance.

Rafe learned a long time ago that, no matter how athletic he may play or how many As he may earn, nothing will ever satisfy his father's insatiability for perfection.

That lifted a considerably heavy weight off his shoulders, once he started living to please himself rather than everybody else.

Of course, he still plays with heart and the frustration of the game naturally spurs during heated moments. But the implications of self pressure are no longer there, and Rafe has found incredible solace with his teammates.

They usually go out after games to celebrate, win or loss, anyway.

Rafe can't really argue with that.

The reason Rafe's alone now is because 1. all of his friends are sleeping and 2. he didn't get drunk enough to pass out.

He had a couple shots early in the night, but curse his heavy weight intake for making it hard to get drunk. So now he's here at the practice field at the ungodly hours of the morning - because he's bored and doesn't want to sleep just yet, and he doesn't have to worry about any classes, just about his plans tonight. 

Besides, his skills could always use some tidying up. 

Rafe goes back to his workout routine after his admiration for the sky, the sun rising behind him mindlessly while he dribbles the ball up and down the field to practice his precision, working on mind trick tricks in terms of scoring (Rafe is a center midfielder, no way could he play defense).

Sweat glistens his forehead as the coolness of the night gradually dissipates, and he doesn't know how long he's been on this field, maybe a few hours? Days? At this point, someone could've told him he's been here for a year and he'd probably take their word for it.

But Rafe, after shooting the ball and missing, notices someone sitting on the bleachers with a book.

You.

A very pretty girl, who now has the book in your lap and is instead watching him.

Rafe just shrugs and gives a welcoming wave with a smile that you definitely can't see, but instead of waving back, you instead close the book with such gentleness and sit up to speak.

"Isn't the ball supposed to go in the net?"

Rafe recoils.

What?

He bites back a laugh because at this ungodly hour, everything is funny no matter what. He decides to ignore the hot raspiness of your voice and pushes it to the back of his mind, because he'll want to think about that later.

Despite his internal turmoil, Rafe plants his hands on his hips and cocks his head to the side. "I don't suppose you could do better?"

You chuckle sweetly, even Rafe can hear that from the distance and thinks it's faint music to his ears. "No, I can't. Have fun playing kickball, though."

Rafe simply stands there, blinking with a dumbfounded expression and a hint of a grin, taking a moment to soak in the faint image of you, a beautiful stranger, who goes back to reading your book. Shamelessly, he continues staring at you, as he can can make out how your silhouette is swallowed by a crimson hoodie looking comfortable enough to make Rafe yawn.

Fuck, now he's tired.

It doesn't take long for Rafe to pack up his things after doing some last work-downs and begin walking off the field (and of course the exit gate is right by the bleachers). The sun is now risen, just barely, and he can already feel the heat coming to bite him in the ass. He's never been a fan of the heat, especially at the start of the school year where it's basically sweltering summer.

Besides, he's been yawning for the past few minutes and his movements are more sluggish than they were before, so he takes this as a hint to finally get some rest.

You look up from your book and notice the alarmingly attractive soccer player leaving. Going against your normal tendency to hide and avoid talking to people you don't know, you can't help but feel inclined to smile when the stranger perks up and makes eye contact with you. The wild thumping of your heart only augments when you notice how pretty his eyes are, a bright blue despite the exhaustion behind them.

Rafe sends you a boyish smile and a nod, almost as if he's known you forever and bidding you a familiar farewell.

Once he gets closer, he notices your coffee sitting idly beside you, ice melting as the sun starts beating down on it. He also notices how pretty you really are, much prettier up close.

"Do you always read at the ass crack of dawn or what?" Rafe decides to pipe up, making his tone lighthearted so you don't think any different.

You huff out a laugh. "I've been here every morning since the semester started, and I'm just seeing you for the first time, why?"

Despite the certainty of your tone, Rafe doesn't ignore the sheepish look that immediately creeps on your face, trying to act cordial but he can tell by the way you're wringing your fingers together, you're somewhat skeptical of him. He decides to spare you and not to comment on the nerves, because he also feels heat in his face (he's gonna blame the workout, not the hot stranger talking to him). 

"Late night, couldn't sleep, and I was bored so I thought I'd shoot around until I got tired."

"Wait a minute," you say, your tone suddenly serious and your expression indulgent, "you haven't slept yet?"

Rafe shrugs nonchalantly, not taking into consideration that other people have normal sleeping schedules, finally meeting someone who does.

"Nah, this is normal for me. I'm surprised you're up...willingly...that's honestly terrifying and I'm scared of you," he jokes and spins the soccer ball on the tip of his ring finger. 

You widen your eyes and let out a low whistle, the look of shock coating your features. "Not sure if I should be fearing you instead. I can't tell if you're a god or just fucking stupid."

This makes Rafe bark out a laugh, one that he doesn't expect to come out, but the fact that this beautiful, fragile, and relaxed stranger just dropped the f-bomb nonchalantly is somehow fucking hilarious to Rafe...or perhaps it's the lack of sleep that makes his perception of things much more different and jagged.

Either way, he doesn't care, because the smile on your face is something Rafe's mind is never, ever going to forget. 

"Probably the latter, unfortunately," Rafe admits in that cheery self-deprecating tone that everyone takes normally. "Well, sunny, I'll leave you to it."

Then he pauses for a second, biting his tongue to refrain from saying something too forward.

"I'll hopefully see you around?"

Your blush intensifies (at the nickname or his confidence, you don't know), and neither speak on it. "Yeah, that'd be nice. See ya, kickball."

Before Rafe can defend his sport, you open your book back up and pick up where you left off, lounging back and crossing your legs to get more comfortable as Rafe splutters and huffs out a response that you seemingly ignore.

Your small smirk of victory makes Rafe want to either punch it off or kiss it off. Please don't ask him which one he prefers. 

Rafe's been at the soccer field almost every morning now for the past week. 

He figures that he'll sleep during the day on the weekends and in between his classes during the week, setting a multitude of alarms and not getting the amount of sleep he wishes to. His sister, Sarah, hassles him because she wants to meet this stranger who's been taking up all of Rafe's free time, finally happy that her brother is 'seeing someone' who isn't a complete jerk.

His best friend, Kelce, begs Rafe to introduce them or at least tell them a name, and have even tried to sneak out of his apartment with Rafe to spy on them (to which Rafe immediately shut down). But Rafe likes the idea of keeping you all to himself, just for a little bit.

Sure, his sleep schedule is even more messed up, but seeing the beautiful stranger every morning is such a goddamned bonus.

Oh, and it's no longer stranger. He learns your name the third time you see him.

Rafe learns that you're majoring in graphic design but that you have a serious love towards history and art, and immediately shy-ed away when he asked you to draw something, anything, on the spot.

And Rafe thinks it's so attractive that you're calm, collected, and easily embarrassed. You're shy, no matter how much you try to hide it. But you've been getting more and more comfortable with him every morning and he counts that as a huge step in his book. The books you read every morning are nonfiction pieces for your classes, and bring a sketch book a couple times a week as a substitute when you don't feel like indulging in history at the ass crack of dawn. 

He's been practicing soccer every morning now and his teammates comment on his change in precision and dribbling, and all Rafe can do is shrug and bitch about how he's the best on the team and can't help his natural talent (which his friends are used to hearing, and immediately humble him).

Well, little do they know you're the entire reason for that, and Rafe teeters between telling you that or keeping that to himself. 

The only downside to all of this is that Rafe's sleep schedule is...no longer. 

He stays up during the night, partying, sketching, whatever, and then makes his way to the field around five-am to practice and wait for you to get there (to make it look like he's already been practicing), and sometimes he doesn't even practice but instead waits on the bleachers for you if he has a game that day, not wanting to push it.

But then Rafe stays with you well into the morning, time that he usually spends sleeping is spent talking and chatting ears off.

Pathetically, he doesn't want to miss a day with you, yet he's really fucking tired.

Maybe you'll understand? Or you won't, and Rafe will have to go back into a panic to figure out if you're actually into him or not. 

Rafe genuinely thinks he's dumb, because you'll graze his hand against his or subtly compliment him, and he doesn't know how to respond, and will just carry on normally because he doesn't want to assume anything is going on.

Because if there's nothing happening between you, then Rafe doesn't want to be embarrassed for thinking that way. Unfortunately, he needs verbal confirmation if you're into him, because these subtle ways of being touchy and flirty are very confusing to a dumb person.

A.K.A., him.

The realization that you're horrifically down bad for Rafe Cameron hits you at approximately 3:22am on a random Sunday, a week after you meet.

You'd gone to bed around eleven, trying to get some early shut eye before your history exam tomorrow. The prep had you cozied up in the library all day, forcing yourself to reiterate the material to no end until you were seeing your handwriting in your head when you shut your eyes.

That's usually your tale-telling sign to know when to wrap it up.

But the effort to get plenty of rest proves fruitless in its attempt due to the giant fucking spider you see a foot away from your face.

Panic rises in your chest.

After all, you often wake up naturally during the night at least once to turn over or stretch your legs and sometimes think you see something, like the hoodie on the back of your chair that looks like a person or the piece of string on your floor that emulates a snake. In the moment, you try to convince yourself that it's one of those pranks your brain likes to play on you.

When it moves, however, that's when you scream.

You fliiiiiing off the bed, landing harshly on the tile with a thud, probably dragging half of your bedspread with you as you fumble for the lamp switch on your dresser.

The light makes it worse, because it proves your suspicions as you stare at the biggest spider you've ever seen on the wall, inches from your pillow.

Of course, you panic.

Heart racing, you freeze in your spot as you can't seem to take your eyes off of it, scared that it'll disappear into your sheets or behind your bed if you move or look away for a fraction of a moment. It's a standoff, you realize, and it doesn't look like it's going anywhere.

And there's no way you're getting near it.

Your fingers shake as you reach for your phone on the dresser, not once taking your eyes off the creature. Once it's in your hand, you pause and suck in a breath.

What the fuck is your phone gonna do?

Think, you repeat in your head. Breathe. Call Laney.

Your thumb ghosts over your best friend's contact, but your heart sinks when you catch a glimpse of the time.

Christ, it's the middle of the night. No one is awake at this hour.

You groan, eyes flickering between your phone and the spider that stays still on your wall, probably thinking of its plan to kill you, or whatever arachnids normally plot.

Trembling in place, you run through your options.

A. You could attempt to throw something at it, but that would only work if you had a guaranteed throwing accuracy, which you do not have. This will probably result in you missing entirely, and the spider vanishing in your sheets to never be seen again. Nope.

B. You could attempt to call Laney or your RA for some roadside assistance, but you know that Laney of all people, who once shrieked and ran from a wasp (it was really a fly), would really be of no help. And your RA often slept through a lot of concerning events, as in multiple fire alarms, a cat fight right outside his door, and, once, a literal firecracker. Nope.

C. You could grab your lighter and attempt to light it on fire. Given the circumstances, you're also guessing that's a fat nope.

D. There's a-

Your endless spiraling comes to a halt when you get a text, a fucking text, none other than from Rafe Cameron. At three in the morning.

Rafe: hey! someone make a greg and rowley edit to fake plastic trees. got me fucked up lowkey. heres the link. lets debrief about it later.

A moment passes and you blink hastily at the message, wondering if your eyes are playing tricks on you or if he, truly, is awake right now casually looking at god knows what. You re-read it once, twice, double checking the time stamp he sent it, mere minutes ago, and your chest pains in embarrassment at what you're about to do.

Your gaze darts from the text to the spider and back to the text.

God, your options are thin.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you're pressing on his contact, hitting the call button.

It rings once. "Please don't tell me I woke you up from that stupid text."

"No, um." You bite your lip as you eye the spider. "Uh, are you busy right now?"

"Besides talking to you? Nothing, pretty. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

You hate how your cheeks burn at his nonchalance, but are thankful he can't see you right now, even though he might at some point in the nearby future.

"What's wrong?" Rafe's tone morphs from teasing into what sounds like concern.

"It's stupid," you whisper, swallowing your pride. "But, uh, there's a giant spider in my room, I'm not kidding the size of my palm. I'm just, like, kinda freaking out?"

There's shuffling on the other end, a grunt, then a thud.

"Ow," Rafe grumbles and it sounds far away, as if you aren't meant to have heard it. "What dorm are you in?"

Your heart flips. "Shaffer. But Rafe, you really don't-"

"Room number?"

"509. But-"

"Nah," he interrupts nonchalantly, as if he won't entertain the thought of not helping you. "I'll be there in five. Talk to me, what'd you do today?"

Rafe arrives in three minutes.

Creeping to the door without taking your eyes off the spider, you open it to reveal Rafe Cameron, clad in sweatpants and a ridiculous graphic t-shirt (that looks like it's inside out), hair disheveled and sticking in every direction, holding his phone to his ear where you're still connected on the call. His green sneakers are untied. His smile is bright.

You try not to stare. You really try. Especially since you're supposed to be keeping an eye on the problem to begin with, but it's hard to resist when he looks so disgustingly endearing.

Eager, even, to help you out.

"Good to know it hasn't eaten you yet," Rafe jests, hanging up the call and putting his phone in his pocket.

You swallow the lump in your throat and step aside to let him in. "You really didn't have to-"

He places a cool palm over your mouth, startling you into shutting up.

Blinking stupidly up at him, all your senses are inhibited when you realize how close he is, how you can smell his cologne and see how bright his blue eyes really are.

"None of that." Rafe grins at your wide eyes. "Now, where is it?"

It's almost annoying how fearless he is.

While you're huddled in the opposite corner of the room, hugging yourself through your thin pajamas, Rafe simply scans the scene in front of him: the array of sheets and blankets hazardously scattered on your floor, the spider on the wall, your hand-sized penguin plushie that Laney got you as a joke. He can't help but cheekily smile to himself, getting a glimpse of you through the items you have, the photos you have hanging up, delaying the arachnid trapping for a moment to be selfish.

You catch him staring at a photo on your wall under your miscellaneous posters, and clear your throat.

Rafe snaps his head back to you, as if forgetting why he's here. "Right, sorry, pretty."

You reel as you watch him. Looking around for items he can use for the entrapment, Rafe settles on a discarded empty coffee cup from your trash can, kneeling forward on your bed and holding the cup underneath the spider.

The thump of your heart only gets louder as you see him nudge it with his own bare hand into the cup.

Once the spider is in it, he simply puts his palm over the top, covering it with not so much a second thought.

Rafe stands normally, tilting his head with puzzlement when he turns around to face you, wide eyed and, frankly, a little horrified.

"What?"

"Wh- You-" You splutter. "You touched it."

All he does it shrug, as if it literally means nothing. "No biggie. You have any ops on this floor? I can set him down so he crawls into their room instead."

After you escort him (from a distance) to relocate the spider outside, Rafe only deems it polite to walk you back to your room. On the way back in, he catches a glimpse of himself in the window and winces at his appearance, so the whole walk back he's been subtly trying to flatten down his unruly hair. You stifle a laugh each time he brings his hand up to mess with it more, undoubtedly making it worse.

By the time you get back to your door, it's worse than before. But he's never looked better, in your opinion.

"Um, thank you," you say sheepishly, toying with the strings of your pajama pants. "I know it's late. Or early. Whatever you wanna call it."

Rafe's smile couldn't be bigger. "I was up anyway."

You frown. "I don't think that's very good for you. You know, not sleeping."

Your tone reeks of concern, frankly a little embarrassing to express such distress for his well-being despite knowing him for only a week now.

But he barely seems fazed by it, instead shrugging. "Maybe. But then I wouldn't have answered your call, hm?"

The amused gleam in Rafe's eyes make your head fuzzy.

"I guess," you mumble. "I'll get you a coffee for your...troubles."

Rafe laughs boyishly, leaning against your doorframe as if he has all the time in the world to talk to you. "No need, pretty. I'm a certified arachnid relocator. I'm putting this shit on my resume. You honestly did me a favor," he rambles. "Needed a new job to put on there, anyway."

You can't help but roll your eyes, not really understanding how he has the energy to quip with you right now.

"Right, put it under your specialty in kickball," you tease, fighting a smile when you see his brows raise. "Will you please try and get some rest?"

"Depends," he hums, tilting his head to the side in contemplation. "Will you be at the field tomorrow?"

Ignoring the way your heart leaps, you shake your head. "Can't. All the more reason to catch up on sleep, no?"

"Are you asking me to?"

"Begging, really."

Rafe then nods, but not without trying - and failing - to suppress a stupidly large grin. "Alright, fine. For you? Anything?"

When you finally convince him to go back to his room (only the building next door), you can't help but lie awake in your spider-free bedroom, staring at the dark ceiling as your mind replays the last thirty minutes over and over.

Yeah. You're already in deep.

Rafe's been meeting you for a few weeks now, ever since the spider incident, almost every morning to talk and hang out.

A couple days a week you'll get coffee before classes to keep Rafe stable, and he discovers that you two always have something to talk about, and if there's silence it's always comfortable and natural. You often watch the sunrise in silence when it first awakens, and then carry on your normal routines when the beauty is over. 

It's so stupidly endearing to him that you let him share your moment with him.

Safe to say he's horrendously down bad...despite his overwhelming fatigue.

This morning has been exceptional rough for Rafe, because around three in the morning while he had been bored tinkering with things in his room, he suddenly remembered a paper that needs to be written before his noon class.

Of course, it's the middle of the night. He knows you're definitely asleep and there's no way he'd wake you up for something like this.

Naturally, Rafe spirals into a messy panic, standing in the middle of his room for a few moments debating on writing the paper here in his dorm or just taking all his things to the bleachers and doing it there while waiting for you. He does have a couple hours to spare, but Rafe doesn't think when he grabs his backpack, laptop, and book and runs out of his dorm.

The darkness of the night has never bothered him, not while the moon shines above him and illuminates his path. It's one of the reasons he loves nightfall so much, is because of the beauty of the moon and the light that it reflects on the earth. He wishes he could see the craters more clearly so he can soak in all of her beauty, but tonight he's in too much of a rush and panic to really think about the deep ideas of the moon.

When Rafe gets to the bleachers, he immediately opens his laptop and starts writing, whipping his book out so that he can reference quotes and cite pages while he lazily goes off his shitty outline he wrote a few nights ago about the premise of his paper. The words he hastily types come out as lethargic unpleasantries, and he really, really tries to focus to make it good, but his head keeps lulling forward and his fingers shake from fatigue.

He doesn't even care. He's a STEM student anyway, so literature isn't really at the top of his list of things to care about.

But god forbid he misses a morning with you.

So he lounges back on the bleachers, ferociously typing away everything he can and scraps together every piece of knowledge he has about the book.

And that's exactly how you find Rafe a few hours later: head tipped back with his legs stretched out, laptop discarded beside him with a black screen, light snores emitting from his mouth and his hair disheveled in every sort of direction.

And you think you're gonna melt at the sight. 

Rafe is startled awake by a loud squawking by his ear, and yelps quietly while he shoos away the crow on the fence and tries to remember where he is and what he was doing. He sees the sun...the soccer field...holy shit, where are-?

You, sitting next to him with his laptop in your lap, waiting patiently for him to wake up. You try (and fail) to suppress a grin as you notice how disheveled he is right now, who's trying to piece together what he had been doing before he passed out.

"Good morning," you greet warmly. "Sleep well?"

"What time is it?" Rafe immediately asks, mind fuzzy from the short amount of sleep. "I have class at-"

"Noon," you interrupt calmly, trying to ignore how stupidly attractive his morning voice sounds, "I was planning on waking you up in an hour or so in order for you to have enough time to get there, but your professor emailed you and the rest of your class to tell you that class was cancelled for a family emergency. So I wasn't going to wake you at all, but that crow had other plans for you. Sorry."

Rafe sits up and rubs his eyes, cracking his back and stretching from the uncomfortable position, still foggy as he looks at your pretty and yawns. "I need to...I need to finish a paper. It's about-"

"Frankenstein?" you interrupt again, looking very prideful. "Don't worry, I've read the book before so I finished it for you. I also re-wrote everything you wrote because...well...it wasn't making sense. I mean, no offense or anything. I kinda submitted it already since it was still due at noon, so..."

Letting out a breath of relief, Rafe slouches and utterly destroys his posture as he regains his ability to think coherently.

His mind catches up to the situation. You found him asleep, finished his essay for him, and waited for him to wake up so you wouldn't disturb him?

Yup. Yeah, it's official, he's smitten with you.

"I don't know how to thank you," murmurs Rafe, unknowing of what to even say, scratching the back of his neck as he peers over at you.

You simply shrug, handing the laptop and book back to Rafe (of course while grazing your fingertips together, hopefully intentionally).

"Think of it as..." You rack your brain for words. "...Me returning the favor. You know, for the spider."

His mind is mush.

All he can think about is you not thinking twice to help him out, despite his idiocy and consistently scrappy appearance. Somehow, somehow, he hasn't driven you away yet. Just when he thinks he's fucked something up, you come back.

"That was- I wanted to do that for you."

Once again, you shrug. "And I wanted to do this for you."

Rafe blinks stupidly at you, unable to form a coherent thought. What ends up coming out of his mouth is, "You wrote a paper."

"Yeah."

"For me."

"Well, I couldn't submit the garbage you came up with. No offense, or anything, but I think you confused Frankenstein with Frankenweenie."

"That's a common mistake."

You manage to crack a smile. "Is it?"

Rafe decides it's one of the prettiest things he's ever seen. "Mhm."

But, of course, he has to ruin the moment by yawning so horrendously audacious that he nearly groans in self inflicted embarrassment.

"Sorry," he winces when he comes down from it, rubbing the side of his face in exhaustion. "That's my body's involuntary response to when a pretty girl writes my papers for me."

You roll your eyes to push away your shyness, to ignore the heat flushing your cheeks.

"You really should get some rest."

Rafe yawns again. ""M not tired."

Despite the dark circles under his eyes, Rafe looks perfectly content on these bleachers, leaning back onto the row above and lounging brazenly. His head is lulled in your direction, looking up at you with those pretty blues and a half lipped smirk that seems to be permanently etched on his face whenever he's with you.

You wring the ends of your shirt, nervously biting your lip under his intense gaze.

And you're speaking before he can call you pretty again.

"Well, how about this. After you get some sleep, we can...we can get dinner? We can even do take out, or I can try and chef something up in the communal kitchen, or something..."

His mouth drops open.

You trail off, unsure of what to make of his flabbergasted expression. Is he...Is this not what you thought it was?

But Rafe is over the moon, unable to get that stupid shocked look off his face as he realizes holy shit he thinks you're asking him out? and he can't find the energy to move, he's frozen, relaying the thought over and over in his head that you, of all people, are into him.

Are you? Or is this some sort of friend-quality time thing that's going over Rafe's head because, contrary to popular belief, he's very smart when it comes to blueprints and designs and sometimes mathematics, but also very dumb when it comes to pretty girls.

Is this a direct invitation on a date or not? His tired brain doesn't know how to think strai-

"I'll take that as a no...?"

Rafe blinks his way out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice again, and he finally finds the words and mumbles out a curse word as he notices the confused guise on your pretty face.

He immediately widens his eyes.

"No, no, no-"

Your brows raise.

Rafe recoils. "Yes! Well, I mean yes, yes, I'll get dinner with you. Sorry, I just...Yes, I'd love to." 

You find it in yourself to laugh, and subtly let out a breath you've been holding for all that time Rafe had been yelling at himself in his head, debating the context of the invitation.

Blinking blearily, Rafe shakes his head, trying to figure out if he's still sleeping and he's dreaming, or if this is actually happening to him. But with the intensity of his rapid heartbeat and the way you look so vividly real and present, he deems that this is in fact not a dream, and this is happily real life.

"Good, because I don't know what I'd do if you said no," you joke, twiddling your thumbs out of nerves and letting out a low chuckle. "Probably never talk to you again."

Rafe waves you off with a proud look on his face, a wide grin, saying your name with such a saccharine tone that it makes your brain go fuzzy.

"Oh please, like I'd even think of blowing off my very own essay-writer. I may be stupid, but I am not an idiot."

This makes you laugh with that stupidly adorable smile that you can't seem to fight off that well, and Rafe takes in how beautiful you are, with your perfect grin and bright eyes that remind him of the the lightness in his chest when he finds something funny, or how your sweet voice smoothes over the ridges and hills of his heart and fills in the gaps affectionately.

(Which is painful for Rafe to endure because he loves it so much).

"You are pretty stupid," you admit quietly, timidly. "You're stupid for losing sleep over me."

Rafe closes his agape mouth at the fact that he's been caught. "Well it's worth it." Then softer, "You're worth it."

You roll your eyes and stand up, Rafe watching you do so. "You shouldn't have to accommodate your entire schedule for me. Honestly, you should go home now and sleep," you suggest earnestly, because all you want is for him to be at his best.

"Only if you'll come with."

Your heart skips a beat and you find yourself rolling your eyes once again, but this time feeling heat creep up on your neck no matter how hard you try to fight it.

It's always something about the way Rafe flirts with you so effortlessly, and how you can tell he means it. 

"Fine," you agree gently, saying it as if it was a bad thing (although your suppressed grin gives that away), "c'mon, you stupid idiot."

So, Rafe gets his things together and leaves the signature bleachers with you, this time finding the gall to slip his hand into yours, gingerly squeezing.

All this time, he wondered what it'd be like to hold your hand, and safe to say it's even better than his preconceived expectations.

© salem-s please do not copy or replicate work unless given permission.

notes some fluff for these hard times. hope you enjoyed!

[bbyg4rl]

i'm your JJ ✧

cw: JJ x Kie's sister!reader, fluff, slight allusion to sex, happy ending !

summary: JJ cant avoid his feelings for his friend's sister anymore. inspired by this request.

a/n: this lowkey so cute thanks i started kicking my legs while writing LMAO hope this is what u expected anon <3

You were just grabbing a glass of juice and making your way back to your room when your sister, Kie, stormed into your room behind you.

"I'm having JJ over tonight. Don't come out of your room."

"It's my house too. I'll come out if I want to" you shot back.

"Just don't, okay? you're annoying enough as it is" she replied, rolling her eyes as she walked out.

time jump

you buried yourself in your pillows trying your best to drown out the sound of the movie playing downstairs. you could faintly hear your sister make excuses to JJ about why you weren't hanging out with them, claiming you "weren't feeling well". The lie made you want to storm down and snap at her, but every time you reached for the door handle, Kie's words struck you like an alarm clock, the words froze you for a reason you couldn't quite discern and sent you back to your bed where you resumed trying to muffle the sounds of the tv.

suddenly, there was a knock at your bedroom door, you half-expected Kie to be on the other side, ready to take more shots at you but you were surprised to see JJ, he softly opened the door, searching for your face in the messy room. As soon as he spotted you, he rushed over and sat on your bedside, his hands gently reaching for your face.

"Hey, mama. how you feelin'?"

"Shouldn't you be downstairs with Kie?" you replied sarcastically.

"Don't answer my question with another question y/n. besides, your sister can handle herself for a little while. I'm here to check up on you, babycakes" he said, smiling at you as his hands combed through your hair.

You couldn’t help but smile at the nickname. "Thanks for checking up on me, JJ, but I’m fine. I just wanted to stay in my room today" you replied softly.

You didn't quite understand why you were covering for Kie. Maybe a little part of you felt guilty for feeling what you felt for JJ, especially since you knew Kie had a thing for him. She made it painfully clear, dropping hint after hint, but somehow, JJ seemed oblivious. His attention never strayed toward her. His eyes were always on you, never missing an opportunity to admire you, darting to you every time a joke left his lips.

Your train of thought was interrupted by JJ's calloused hand stroking your cheek.

"You're not really a 'stay in' kind of a person, mama. Tell me what's wrong, you know you can tell me anything. I'm your JJ"

You shot him a wry smile, "You're cute, JJ"

"You're just stating the obvious, baby" he quipped, flashing one of those smirks that always made your stomach flip.

"Why do you even wanna know what's wrong? You want me or something?" you teased.

"You have no idea how much I want you" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Your eyes widened. Did he just say he wants you?

"Just come on down, babycakes" he said, cutting off any chance for a reply as he slipped his hands under you, lifting you bridal style. Before you knew it, he was carrying you downstairs.

You felt Kie's eyes boring holes into your back as JJ placed you on the couch beside Kie, pulling a blanket over you and settling in beside you. Your heart raced, waiting for an outburst to tear its way through your sister, knowing how much this must be killing her.

The three of you quietly settled in to watch the movie. That is, until you noticed JJ’s hand slowly inching closer to yours, eventually resting on top of it, his thumb occasionally swiping across the back of your hand.

As the movie went on, your mind wandered, You couldn’t help but notice how close JJ really was to you, his hand on top of yours, his knee brushing yours, his shark tooth necklace rising up and down on his chest with every breath he took.

An idea popped into your head, The movie wasn’t all that interesting anyway, it wouldn't hurt to spice it up now, would it?

you slipped your hand from under his and scooted closer, thigh pressing against as his. His breath hitched as you adjusted your blanket to cover his legs before resting your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to the growing tent in his shorts.

"Y/n" he whispered, voice strained, not daring to look at you.

"Hm?" you responded feigning innocence, as you moved your hand higher before abruptly pulling it away and standing up.

"I'm gonna get more popcorn" you declared, only then noticing that Kie had fallen asleep in her spot.

Grinning to yourself, you made your way to the kitchen, thoughts of JJ swirling in your mind. You were rummaging through the cabinets when you heard JJ’s heavy breathing behind you.

"What was that, Y/n"

"What was what?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about, mama." he growled, his tone low and agitated as his hand snaked around your waist pulling you into him.

"Don't do that again " he murmured, pressing a small kiss to your hair before walking back to the living room.

Your face flushed as you stood there, stunned. The difference between the JJ who had come to your room earlier and the man that had just pulled your ass into him excited you. He wasn't usually this bold with you, but lately his resolve seemed to be breaking and his control was faltering, his obsession with you becoming harder for him to hide. Not that it was ever really hidden.

Finally, you found the popcorn and returned to the living room. The rest of the night passed in relative silence, with only quiet glances exchanged between you and JJ.

When it was time for him to leave, he shot you a smirk and gave Kie a quick side hug before heading out the door. You made your way to your room and flopped onto your bed, only to hear a knock on your window moments later.

It was JJ, with a shit eating grin plastered to his face. You opened the window to let him in.

"JJ? I thought you left-"

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours.

Pulling away slightly, he looked into your eyes. "I couldn't leave without kissing you, I can't pretend no more, baby. I need you"

You smiled, pulling him back in for another kiss. You’d been waiting for this moment for so long. He slowly led you to your bed, laying you on your back as he climbed on top, his hands rested on your sides, as he deepened the kiss, his knee between your legs, teasing you.

You cupped his face, pulling it back to look at him. "What am I gonna tell Kie?"

"Tell her I’m your JJ."

check out my other works ! masterlist

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 2

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, y/n being an awkward mess, subtle and indirect mention of sexual themes

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ you and rafe were paired up for a 2 week-long art project. you agreed to meet during lunch break to start working on it. after a little breakdown in the girls' restroom, you picked him up after PE. finally free of kelce and topper, you two headed for the school’s dining hall.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 3.3k+

✿ A / N ✿ i don't have much to say for this one as it's just an immediate continuation of the last one but i'm very thankful for the likes and comments on the first part. i didn't expect any at all so a big thank you to everyone who decided to support <3 i hope you also enjoy this one as well :) (also super excited when i’ll get to future parts where y/n gets to be more silly :3)

Important: I started using dividers after chat convos that include more than one screenshot, so you guys know when to switch back to the written story. Yk you usually click on the image to get a full-screen mode to read the messages easier, so whenever the blue rectangle image pops up, you know when to back out. Makes it easier to avoid potential spoilers, hope that makes sense :P

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // M O N D A Y

The dining hall at Kildare Academy was moderately full. Most students’ classes were already over, and a lot of Kooks went to the restaurants down the street, even though the serving station offered fresh high-quality food.

Okay, fries weren’t exactly healthy but they probably made them from potatoes grown specifically for Kooks (yes, as a Kook yourself, you were their biggest hater).

Whatever. The dining hall wasn’t the reason your heart was about to explode in your chest.

No. You were having lunch.

With. Rafe. Cameron.

If someone had told you this morning, you would’ve laughed.

Because, hello??? Rafe had been your crush since you’d first set foot in Kildare Academy in fifth grade.

Okay, not exactly special—what Figure 8 girl hadn’t had a crush on Rafe at some point?

But that wasn’t the point. This whole ... thing just felt so surreal.

A crush had always been just that—a crush. You weren’t the type to walk up to a guy and say, Hey, you’re cute, let’s go on a date. That would mean putting yourself out there and making yourself vulnerable.

And the last thing you ever wanted was to be seen.

Not in a physical way. That was unavoidable. No, what scared you was someone actually seeing you, the parts of yourself you kept locked away.

Ew, that sounded so fucking dramatic.

So while your 11-year-old self was doing backflips of joy, your 18-year-old self was having a full-blown existential crisis.

Okay, maybe not that bad.

“You were right,” Rafe said, pulling you from your thoughts. He was sitting across from you, pushing his fork through his quinoa-veggie bowl.

You eyed him confused. “About what?”

Rafe nodded toward your fries, the corner of his lips tugging into a subtle smile. “I am a fries guy. Quinoa tastes like shit and rocks.”

You glanced at his bowl before meeting his gaze again, a knowing smile on your face. “I guess it’s the color. Red and black ones are usually more bitter and more firm than their white counterparts.”

Rafe raised a brow, amused. “As a quinoa expert, you could’ve warned me.”

Your cheeks heated. You kind of had, with that dumb joke outside the gym earlier. “I thought you already knew what it tasted like.”

“I do,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his bowl anyway. “Maybe I just didn’t want you to label me as the fries guy.”

Wait—was that a joke? And why did he care what you thought about him?

God, I suck at whatever this is.

So you just forced a chuckle and took a sip of your water.

…

…

...

Shit.

Now there was that awkward silence you always dreaded in conversations.

Okay, okay, stay calm.

Should I say something? Should I offer him my fries?

You almost laughed. Hell no, that’d be so weird. Plus the quinoa part of his bowl didn’t even take up a third of the whole meal.

You wished Cara were here. She’d know exactly what to say and how to act. She went on dates all the time, made out with guys at parties just for fun, and could hold a normal fucking conversation with a guy she was interested in.

“So, you like… a real artist or something?” Rafe asked absentmindedly, breaking the unbearable silence. “Since you picked Art as an elective?”

You looked up, quickly swallowing the bite of fries in your mouth before giving him a nervous smile. “Yeah, I mean—no, I wouldn’t call myself a real artist, not like Da Vinci or such.” You let out an awkward laugh. “I just draw sometimes when I’m bored.”

Jesus Christ, did he have to look at you like that? His blue eyes were drilling into your entire existence.

Rafe nodded. “Digital or traditional?”

You blinked at him, stunned.

How the fuck did Frat Boy Rafe Cameron know the difference between digital and traditional art?

Your expression made him smirk. And as if he had read your thoughts, he said, “My little sister Wheezie draws random shit on her iPad all the time.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, figured it was a thing—”

“No, I mean—yes, totally,” you blurted, immediately turning red because you just cut him off. “Most people start with pencil and paper but drawing on a tablet or iPad is just as legit. Um… so, yeah … I do both, to answer your question.” You smiled awkwardly.

Help, he would’ve had a more entertaining conversation with a rock.

Rafe barely raised a brow, a lazy smile on his lips. “It’s cool that you draw. Guess I got lucky having you as my partner for this project.”

WHAT.

Okay, everything’s chill.

NO, NOTHING WAS CHILL.

Is he flirting with me??? Is he just being nice ??? WHAT DOES ALL OF THIS MEAN.

What were you even supposed to reply to that?

Hahaha, thanks, did you know I made our Sims get married in eighth grade? Topper was your best man by the way.

WHAT THE FUCK, NO, STOP.

Whatever, just say something. Anything.

“Thanks,” you mumbled with an embarrassed smile, eyes fixed on your fries and salad.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Rafe lean back, pushing his half-eaten bowl aside. He shrugged. “Only sucks for you. Art’s not really my thing.”

No shit.

Also, what was that supposed to mean? Was he fishing for a compliment? Like Aww, no, come on, I’m sure you’re great at it.

Holy shit. Was Rafe Cameron secretly a pick-me guy? Were all these years crushing on him wasted?

“Yeah, I figured. Most people just take art class thinking it’ll be an easy A”, you said before he could say more and give you the ick.

OH my god, take it back, take it back—

When you saw his expression, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back. He looked… surprised? Confused? Maybe a little offended…?

Then the tension in his face eased. His lips twitched slightly before curving into a lopsided grin, making him look unexpectedly boyish.

“Shit, yeah. Guess that makes me ‘most people’”, he said with such ease, it was like you hadn’t just called him out.

How the hell did he manage to turn all your miserable attempts at a normal conversation into something so smooth? If you were in his place, you would've already walked out and dropped art class.

Yo, Mr Smith, this chick you paired me up with, she’s got the social skills of a dead fish.

This was so frustrating. It wasn’t like you were socially incompetent—not really—but around him, your brain just seemed to completely shut down.

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, furrowing your brows, annoyed at your own nervousness.

“Nah, it’s true,” Rafe replied, shrugging. Then he looked at you, a teasing edge in his voice. “So, if your art grade tanks, you know who to blame.”

Okayyy, he was either trying to get on your good side or looking for a smooth way out of this project—and you weren’t sure which was worse.

You swallowed your last fry and gave a chuckle. I sound like a fake ass bitch. “I’m sure you'll manage. Art is not about drawing perfectly — it’s more about the ideas and how you approach them.”

Jesus, you sounded just like Mr. Smith.

Rafe’s lips twitched into a cocky smirk. “Alright, then I guess you’ll have to help me be more creative.”

...

HUH?

OKAY. I MEAN SURE.

Be for fucking real, did he even realize what his words did to you?

Of course, he did—he probably flirted with girls daily. Or was he just lucky to be born with full charisma stats?

Probably both.

God, this was so embarrassing. Your face probably screamed HI CAN YOU MARRY ME, and to him, you were just some random Kook girl he was stuck with for a boring art project.

Okay, wait no.

Now YOU sounded like a pick-me.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” you said, cheeks pink, before clearing your throat to change the subject. “Okay, so… maybe we should start brainstorming some ideas? Like a mind map or mood board or something?”

Rafe leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table, and you had to fight the urge to glance at his biceps which flexed slightly as he moved. “Mood board? You talking about Pinterest type shit?”

Okay, wow, Rafe was absolutely not the type of guy you thought he was. Did he know about this stuff from Wheezie? Or some friends-with-benefits girlie?

Um, no, Y/N, none of your business.

You gave him a quick nod. “Yeah, something like that. We can also just start by writing stuff down.”

Rafe shrugged in agreement. “Okay.”

Okay.

He looked at you expectantly.

Ugh, did he really expect YOU to be the one taking notes?

Well, crush or not, he was still just a guy, after all.

You reached for the iPad in your bag, grabbed the Apple Pencil, and opened the Notes app.

As you scribbled down today’s date and gave the note a title, Rafe leaned in even closer, glancing at your screen. “Is this the iPad you use for drawing?”

He was so close now, his woody-aquatic aftershave filling your nose, giving you a strange feeling in your chest … and a very special part in your lower body.

“Yeah,” you replied shortly.

“Show me something then.”

“No.”

HUH?

“No?” Rafe’s gaze flicked from the screen to your flushed face, his lips curling into a crooked grin. There was a cocky glimmer in his gaze.

Good heavens, up close his eyes looked even more beautiful. They were the kind of blue people wrote bad poetry about. To you, they were a pretty contradiction—cold in color, warm in the way they lingered on your own eyes.

Heart racing, you looked away and laughed nervously. “I mean… maybe we should focus on the project first, you know, time pressure and all.”

With an amused scoff, Rafe leaned back again, glancing at his phone (wow, rude) for a second before saying, “To the boring part then."

Somehow it felt like you'd scratched his ego.

Girl, how could you mess up this badly? He probably thought you were some pretentious nerd now.

“So… do you have any ideas?” You twirled the Apple Pencil in your fingers, just praying for this painfully long lunch break to end.

Rafe pressed his lips together, scratching his jaw. The glass of his Rolex reflected a spectrum of lights under the ceiling’s lights. “Uh… dunno. What’s the prompt again? A modern take on the Greek gods?”

“A reinterpretation,” you corrected — then realizing you sounded like a know-it-all, so you quickly added, “but yeah, a modern version could definitely count.”

He nodded absentmindedly, fingers drumming on the table. “Okay, so…", he gave a dry laugh and ran a hand over his face. "Shit, what a stupid prompt."

You chewed the inner part of your cheeks. Okay, he clearly had zero interest in spending his free period working on some elective class’ project with you.

But it had been his idea to meet during lunch, you reminded yourself.

Forcing a smile, you offered, “We can always do this later. We still have two weeks.”

Rafe raised a brow. “You got plans or something?”

Oh. Guess that didn’t go over well.

You shook your head. “No, but if you’re not feeling it—”

“I’m not,” he cut in, his fingers stopping their steady rhythm against the table. “But we’re already here, so.”

That didn’t sound very motivated.

“Yeah, I guess”, you said, cringing at the sudden bitterness in your tone.

By the shift in Rafe’s expression, he must have noticed but before he had a chance to comment on it, you quickly picked up on what he’d said earlier. “So, a modern version of Olympus sounds fun. Maybe we can make it about the gods’ roles in today’s society or something like that.”

Rafe eyed you quietly, his expression impossible to read. He then tilted his head, scratching his nose. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe Zeus as the CEO of Olympus Industries or some shit. He’s the big boss, right? And everyone else just kinda works for him.”

Your lips curled into a soft smile. A corporate structure? Why were you not surprised.

“What?” He looked genuinely confused.

You shook your head, cheeks heating up again. “Nothing, that’s… that’s good.”

He raised his brows, a challenging tone in his voice. “You think it’s crap.”

“No,” you replied quickly, then adopted a more serious expression. “Really, it’s a nice take. Maybe his wife — Hera I mean — could be his girl boss PR manager, always cleaning up his scandals?”

A grin tugged at his lips, and with that, the weird tension in the air seemed to fade. “Shit, isn’t she also his sister? Well, yeah, guess she’s gotta cover up his dozen affairs. That guy’s a huge player.”

Okay, real talk—where did he get all this information from? He really didn’t seem like the guy to be interested in greek mythology.

It was cute though.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You seem to be an expert in this field.”

He scoffed amused, leaning back into his chair. His eyes mustered you with a strange mix of entertainment and irritation. “You think I'm a fuckboy or some shit?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Huh? What did he mean—

…

Did he-- ... OH SHIT.

A revolting feeling spread in your stomach and your cheeks probably invented a new shade of red.

WHY ON EARTH HAD YOU PHRASED IT LIKE THAT?!

Some evil gods or spirits must be messing with you right now because there was no way this situation could get any more awkward.

Frantically, you shook your head. “What? I… oh my god, no. NO! I was referring to the Greek gods. Not… you don’t give off such vibes. I mean, it’s none of my business anyway.”

Hey, if there’s a sniper out there, please take me out.

In your mind, you already estimated the cost of moving to another country. Canada had pretty landscapes and New Zealand--

A laugh escaped his lips — cocky, yet carrying a certain warmth. It made your heart stop and race at the same time.

“Relax,” he said bemused, leaning forward with his arms crossed, biceps flexing again. “People have said worse things to my face.”

No, this didn’t sit right with you.

You shook your head again, daring to meet his eyes. “No, I’m serious, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just … surprised about your knowledge of Greek mythology.” You froze, realizing this also sounded stupid. “Not that I took you for clueless…” Shit. You sighed. “It was stupid of me to phrase it like that and I don’t want you to think I take you for a fuckboy. It’s a shitty term anyway.”

Your nerves were going crazy and you fidgeted with the case of your iPad, waiting for his response.

Rafe silently STARING at you didn’t help at all. He seemed … surprised, maybe a little perplexed even.

SAY SOMETHING PLEASE.

“Alright”, he finally said, his usual cocky expression returning to his face. He slightly shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze for just a second but long enough for you to notice. “Guess I picked up a bit from Wheezie when she had to do a presentation for school or whatever. She couldn't shut up about it. Shit was annoying as hell.”

For a moment, you didn't know what to respond. Why wasn't he offended? Why didn't he mock you for being so awkward?

You smiled, trying to relax your nerves. “Sounds like we could use her little expert knowledge on this project.”

Rafe gave a low chuckle. “Well, I believe we’ve already got a little expert right here”, he said with a crooked smile, his eyes burning a hole into your soul.

Oh. My. God.

The teasing edge in his voice made your brain shut down. This had to count as flirting, right? RIGHT?!

You chuckled nervously, cheeks a deep shade of red, and placed the Apple Pencil back on the screen. “Then I hope whatever I picked up from reading Percy Jackson will be enough.“

That's it, Y/N, you are officially banned from doing any more jokes.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

In English class, you could finally breathe again.

Your suffering was over.

During the rest of the lunch break, Rafe and you had talked about some more ideas. Gladly, you hadn’t embarrassed yourself any further (if that was even possible because you’d definitely reached your peak today).

At the end of lunch, Topper had picked him up and they’d left for their own English class. Your goodbyes had been a little awkward but you’d managed.

Right now, you were grateful they didn’t attend the same class as you because you certainly didn’t want to listen to them laughing about what a weird ass person you were.

Okay, just breathe. I did it, it’s over.

You tried to concentrate on whatever Mrs. Andrade was talking about but only half the students truly paid attention.

Afternoons in the Outer Banks truly were a cruel thing.

So you decided to check your phone:

Sighing quietly, you put your phone away and rubbed your temples. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, yet at the same time, it felt so empty.

Maybe I'm lucky and tomorrow I’ll wake up to a big newsflash: This just came in, Kildare Academy was reduced to ashes by a sudden fire.

But when had you ever been lucky?

Your phone buzzed again but you really didn’t feel like talking and thinking about Rafe anymore.

This guy had thrown you off track in just an hour but in the best and worst way possible.

And even though every part of you wanted to run from the thought of seeing him again — the way that uncomfortable feeling in your chest wouldn’t let up — there was still a small part of you that found yourself oddly eager to see him again, work with him on that stupid little project and listen to his stupid little laugh.

Because somehow in just sixty minutes you’d learned more about Rafe Cameron than you had in nearly seven years at Kildare Academy.

For instance, he was a lot kinder than you’d expected. Not that you’d ever thought he was like a high school movie bully or some shit but his occasional soft smiles and the way he didn't mock you when you'd said some stupid shit had definitely surprised you.

Plus he seemed to care about his little sister which was such an attractive attribute (and the bare minimum let's be honest).

All of this was so strange.

It sounded stupid but Rafe Cameron had always been just a concept to you. A crush you enjoyed looking at and maybe making up your own little idea of (and some scenarios to fall asleep to be for real).

But now he was... real and—

Bzzrt.

Seriously, Cara had class too—and with Ms. Langford, no less. And unlike Mrs. Andrade, she wasn’t exactly chill.

You picked up your phone again, expecting some delusional text messages—but the moment you saw the notification on your lock screen, your heart stopped.

No fucking way.

NO. FUCKING. WAY.

Holding your breath, you unlocked your phone, and the second your eyes landed on the profile picture, your heart took off in a full sprint. You didn’t even register Mrs. Andrade calling your name.

Because by some strange twist of fate, Rafe Cameron had gotten your number and decided to text you—after what you were sure had been your ultimate humiliation today.

You didn’t know whether to grin, cheer, or jump out of your seat—shit, maybe all three—but instead, you just sat there, wondering if there really was a god of luck and if he’d just decided to bless you.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M If you're just interested in this series, it's enough to drop a comment, no need to fill out the form.

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee