#and just how he talks about Sarah to her???

[magicalqueennightmare]

Meeting Belle

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Nicknamed Belle)

You've been best friends with Sarah since high school so when you go to take her boys to school and there's a man on her couch you don't know, you're a bit concerned

You had promised Sarah you’d take the boys to school. It was sprinkling rain and supposed to be like this most of the week. Luckily you didn’t have to be into work until nine so it worked out beautifully. You walked out of your place to your jeep and slid in. Her place was just around the corner from yours. Hers and Sam’s mom had been a god sent when you were younger. That woman had stepped in for you and your brother when your parents checked out. Your brother was living in Texas now but you were still right here home in Louisiana.  

You pulled up to her place and jumped out of your jeep, slamming the door behind yourself. The doors on that thing wouldn’t close if you didn’t put a little force behind them. The boys loved it but Sarah would shake her head at them when they’d laugh because of you arguing with it  “Aunt Belle likes to act like she’s the beast at times boys”  Belle was a long lasting nickname from Sarah, way back from when the two of you were in high school. When you’d raised an eyebrow at her she’d simply tapped your book “Always reading and you’re so damn pretty. Plus she is your favorite princess” so Belle was called nowadays more than your actual name.

You tried the handle and it was unlocked so you walked in “Cass! Aj! Get a move on fellas!” you walked around into the living room where the boys were and instinctively shoved them both behind you when your eyes landed on a man you’d never seen before laying on the couch. He was gorgeous, yeah but the metal arm and you not knowing him meant your claimed nephews were going behind you.

He slowly stood up, hands held out in front of him “Easy doll. Ask the boys, they know me” you shook your head, keeping a hand on Cass and one on Aj. “SARAH! THERE’S A MAN IN YOUR HOUSE AND IT AINT SAM!” she walked around the corner laughing “Belle, you do have a way with words”

She observed the scene and nodded her head approvingly “Got to say, I love that you my boys enough to stand between them and a super soldier but he’s harmless well not harmless but is to us. This is Sam’s friend Bucky” your eyes flew back to the guy, studying him. His hair was shorter, new arm but yeah that was Bucky Barnes. Holy hell, leave it up to you to stand ten toes down against a one hundred and something year old super soldier who could literally snap you like a twig. 

Sam came in the backdoor, having been summoned by you screaming and grinned “So you met Belle Bucky” “Belle?” Bucky looked towards you with a slight grin. Damn he really was gorgeous. Standing up where you could see him and know he wasn’t a threat to the boys meant you could fully appreciate the broad chest under that blue henley and those damn dogtags dangling along with how bright his blue eyes were when he smiled at you. 

“Belle is a nickname the Wilsons tagged me with in highschool” you explained. Sam told Bucky your actual name then said “But she was always reading, didn’t want to give any of those losers in her high school the time of day and was pretty like Belle plus we have like three different halloweens worth of pictures from when we were younger where she dressed as Belle” you stuck your tongue out at him “Easy Samuel. Just cause you’re Captain America now, don’t get cocky. Me and Sarah can steal take you” 

Sarah nodded “I already told him that” Bucky grinned “I like her already” you winked at him “Get to know me Barnes and you’ll love me in no time” and saw a light blush grace his cheeks. Talk about a damn confidence boost to start your day! You just made Bucky fucking Barnes blush! 

You saw Sam shoot Bucky a look and weren’t sure what it was about but you cut your eyes at Sarah and she wiggled her eyebrows. You shook your head “Ok well boys now that aunt Belle made a fool of herself, let's get you to school before I’m late to work”

You turned to walk out and Bucky called your name. You turned around and he waved a hand towards where the boys were running towards your jeep “You didn’t know me, you got between your nephews and danger. Nothing to be embarrassed of” you grinned “I hope you stick around Bucky” 

You headed down the doorsteps and could hear Sam cackle “Dude, you are as red as a tomato!” and heard Sarah scolding him. You couldn’t get the grin off your face the entire way of dropping the boys off and into work. 

You walked into Sarah’s house a few days later, juggling the bags of groceries she’d asked you to pick up. You tried helping her and the boys as much as you could, hell if you were being honest the only real home cooked meals you ate were ones you helped cook in her place. You always just grabbed a little something when left to your own devices.

You kicked the door open with your foot and when you started to walk in the bag nearly ripped but Bucky popped around the corner. Your eyes widened. “Where the hell did you come from?” he smiled “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” as he scooped up all four bags easily and carried them towards the kitchen. You watched with a raised eyebrow and a grin “I mean, not complaining but I thought you left a few days ago”

He nodded “I did” then looked over his shoulder at you “I came back” you felt your face warm “Where is everyone?” he tilted his head towards the back door “The boys are playing, Sam’s jogging and Sarah was firing up the grill” 

You laughed lightly “Oh yeah, you’re a Brooklyn boy. Have you ever had any good Louisiana cooking?”  he shook his head and you grinned “You’re in for a treat in that case” he watched you with a smile “I’m up for anything doll” you felt your stomach flip “That sounds promising” and saw a blush grace his cheeks. 

You shook your head and grabbed his metal hand, considering it was closest to you. His eyes widened when you didn’t seem bothered and you grinned “What?” he shook his head “You’re something else Belle” you laughed lightly “Oh Bucky, you haven’t seen anything yet. Come on” and pulled him towards the door. “Me, cass and Aj always lure Sam into a water balloon fight. You in?” he laughed “As long as I’m on your team” you nodded “Of freaking course” and he laughed “Then I’m in darlin”

@desimarie12

[criminallyvenomous]

Espresso Beans and Eyes That Gleam - Spencer Reid X Reader

•Plot - Spencer runs into a barista that catches his eye.

•Warnings - Just fluff and coffee talk

•Word Count - 766

•A/N - once a barista always a barista

It was another mundane morning that you were way too tired to be working through. The café was basically empty, which made you realize that was why you always worked alone on Tuesdays. It’d be a waste of the company’s money to add a coworker to the morning shift. Besides, the Starbucks across the street got most of the business anyways. You finished writing down the sole customer’s order onto the paper cup and began to work on it.

You took the double handed espresso tool and scooped the ground bean blend, pouring it into the espresso spout. You flipped the tool and pressed the circular flat surface onto the espresso blend, putting the spout into the machine and starting it up. As the machine gurgled and spilled out the coffee into the little cups, the door chimed and you looked up to see the strangest pair of friends.

~

“I have points, Reid. They add up.” Derek was walking with Spencer down the street to grab some coffee before their shift officially started.

“Would you really rather support the big guy over the little? Do you know how many mom and pop coffee shops go under every single year due to corporate greed and companies like Starbucks that don’t even support their own employees, leaving them to battle it out in Union negotiations? It’s astounding.” Spencer ranted.

“Okay, fine. We’ll go to that one. But they better have something sweet for Garcia.” Derek agreed and the two crossed the street to enter the local café.

“You go ahead, I’m gonna take a picture of the menu to send.” Derek ushered Spencer towards the counter and he nodded.

“Double foam oat latte for Sarah.” You said. The customer came up and you handed her the drink. She put a quarter into the tip jar and headed out the door.

“Hi, how can I help you? Do you know what you want to order?”

“Uh, yeah.” Spencer hesitated as his brain focused in on you. You had your hair pulled back, with a few strands falling to frame your face. The apron tied around your sweater had a few pins from media he didn’t recognize, but more notably your name-tag.

“I’ll take a large vanilla soy latte, with an extra shot of vanilla.” He ordered and you wrote it down onto the cup.

“Name?” You asked, marker in hand.

“Spencer. Thanks, Y/N.” He smiled. After he paid, he forgot to even leave the counter, just enchanted by watching you work. Sure, to some it was a menial job that relied on tips, but he recognized the skill required.

“Kid, move over.” Derek nudged, Spencer obliged a little, still standing by the counter as to not lose his view.

“One second.” You looked to the man waiting as you pumped a few shots of the vanilla syrup into a cup.

“What can I get you?” You asked the latter.

“One medium latte with no syrup, and one large vanilla chai latte with oat milk.”

He finished his order and walked over to Spencer, who was just standing at the pickup counter, watching you.

“What is up with you? You looked like a stalker.”

“Nothing, nothing. The coffee making process is just incredibly beautiful.” Spencer said without thinking.

“Beautiful? Oh, I don’t think you’re talking about just the coffee.” Derek laughed, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

“Shut it, Morgan.”

“Just give her your number or something. You’re killing me, kid.”

“Maybe.” He pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and placed it into tip jar, making you look up and give him a smile that made him begin to have butterflies in his stomach.

You finished up Spencer’s drink, putting the lid on. You had taken notice of the man, especially considering his tall handsome stature as he stared at you making his drink. It wasn’t the rarest occurrence, but having the guy be this attractive definitely was. Not to mention the excessive tip for a latte.

“Vanilla soy for Spencer.” You said, handing him his drink. Your fingers brushed and he smiled at you. You wondered what he might do for work.

“I was, uh.” He looked over at Derek who gave him a little ‘go on’ gesture. “Wondering if I could get your number. Maybe we can get a cup of coffee sometime, wait, not coffee.” He internally cursed at himself and you laughed at his awkwardness.

“That would be great.” You smiled and turned to grab the other two drinks.

“Wait, I didn’t get your number.” He called out. You turned.

“Check your cup.”

[f4dedtouch]

╰┈➤ how fawn!reader met the love of her life

pairing: fawn!reader x rafe

summary: childhood memories, rafe being a little broody at the beginning, details on how rafe and fawn!reader really became best friends….and lovers but they will keep that to themselves for now.

warnings: none!

you met sarah when you were six. she was the first person you ever called a best friend, the one who understood you without you ever needing to explain yourself. from that moment on, you were always at tannyhill, spending summers by the pool, sneaking snacks from the kitchen, and whispering secrets under the covers at sleepovers. rafe was there too, but back then, he was just sarah’s older brother, too busy rolling his eyes at your little games to care.

it was not until you were nine that you actually met rafe. you had scraped your knee while out cycling with sarah, but she was too busy talking to some boy she liked, so you wandered back to tannyhill alone, sniffling. before you even made it inside, rafe spotted you, leaning against the doorway like he was debating whether or not to care.

“what happened?” he asked, all sharp jaw and furrowed brows, like the answer actually mattered.

“scraped my knee,” you mumbled sniffling.

“where is sarah?”

when you told him she was still with that boy, he clenched his jaw, muttered something under his breath, and then, without another word, made you sit down. he cleaned your knee with all the quiet focus of someone pretending not to care, his hands oddly gentle despite the way he sighed like you were the biggest inconvenience of his day.

“there. go bother sarah now.”

and then he left.

that should have been the end of it. but somehow, after that day, you started noticing him more. or maybe, he started noticing you.

by the time you were thirteen, rafe was just… there. always lingering at the edges, never really part of your friendship with sarah but never fully leaving either. he never actually asked to hang out with you, but if you and sarah were watching a movie in the living room, he would suddenly appear, throwing himself onto the couch and stealing your popcorn. if you were at the beach, he would show up with his friends but somehow always end up near you.

“you are way too quiet.” he’d tease.

“you are way too loud.” you’d shot back scowling at him.

“that book looks boring.”

“then why do you keep asking me about it?”

he never admitted he liked having you around, but you noticed the way he would flick your book pages just to annoy you, the way he would “accidentally” bump into you when passing by, the way he always seemed to be near without ever actually asking to be. too tough, too proud, too rafe to just say he wanted to be there.

at sixteen, things changed. you were still sarah’s best friend. that part never changed. but rafe—god, rafe—was there too, and suddenly, he was everywhere. you told yourself nothing was different, but somehow, you were spending just as much time with him as you did with sarah.

if you went for late-night ice cream runs, he was driving. if you sat by the beach, he was throwing seashells at you just to be annoying. if you stayed up reading in sarah’s room, he was barging in, demanding you both make him food because he was “starving”. he made fun of your tea obsession but always stocked your favorite kind in the kitchen. if you were baking, he was stealing spoonfuls of batter behind your back.

somewhere along the way, rafe decided you two were best friends. you never actually agreed to it, but that did not matter.

and when things got too much—when his father’s voice got too loud or his fists curled too tight—you were the only person who could bring him back. you would touch his arm, whisper, “rafe, it is okay.” and it always was.

by eighteen, things were different, even if neither of you said it out loud maybe because it had been so fun being his best friend that u just didn’t wanted to ruin that.

rafe had settled into your life in a way that felt permanent, like he had always been there, like he always would be. he became an important part of your life after sarah.

he never said much about it, but his presence spoke for itself. if you were out, he was there too, standing just close enough to remind everyone else not to get any ideas. if someone tried to flirt with you, his stare alone was usually enough to shut it down.

your things kept ending up at his place, but instead of returning them, he just… kept them. your favorite hoodie stayed folded on the chair in his room. your favorite lipgloss was always in his truck. when you asked about it, he would just shrug and say, “thought you forgot about it.”

he cooked meals with you when your parents would be away for work at your place. he picked you up at night when you could not sleep, took you on drives with no destination, letting you ramble about everything and nothing. he let you talk about the guys who had been getting on your nerves, let you complain about the dumb things people did, nodding along even when he was barely listening.

“you know none of them are good enough for you, right?”

“and you are?”

he never answered that. just gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and changed the subject.

you still hung out with sarah all the time, still spent nights at tannyhill more than your own house. but when you had a bad day, when the world felt like too much, you did not even have to ask—rafe would just open his arms, letting you curl into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and maybe it was.

maybe it had been this way all along.

and maybe, just maybe, everyone else had figured it out before you two did.

a/n: first post ever I’m excitedddddd!!! also a feel free to request my !readers!

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 9

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @jessthebaker

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 8

Someone’s hammering.

Stop it.

Who was hammering?

It’s early. Fuck. Stop hammering.

Quit it! It’s early.

Was it?

Joel decided to open his eyes. Peek at what was going on. Why was it so bright? Did he leave the lights on?

Fuck… his head.

Who was hammering?

That’s weird. The clock on his wall said 9.30.

Was that right? Was it 9.30?

He sat up, trying to get his brain to stop moving in his head. Quit moving.

There was no more hammering. But there was. What the fuck was going on?

He crawled out of bed, slowly getting himself upright and made his way to the ensuite. He made the mistake of switching the light on in the bathroom, immediately retreating and switching it back off.

Fuck he’s old. Hangovers had never been worse.

The house was quiet when he ventured into the kitchen, still trying to keep his head as still as he could, lest his brain fell out.

“Finally! Good morning!”

“Shhh!!!” he hissed, his shushing vibrating its way into his wobbling brain. “Too loud. Too loud,” he croaked.

Ellie quietly snickered, going into his room, coming back out with sunglasses for her Dad, gently placing them on his nose. “You and Uncle Tommy had fun last night, huh?” she whispered, as she helped him sit on the stool behind the kitchen island. She shuffled about as he held his head in his own arms on the wooden surface, busying herself with the microwave, cringing a little, shushing it when it beeped. She placed a huge mug in front of him, the man immediately taking the mug and thankfully sipping the black liquid his daughter offered. His eyes closed, a silly smile appearing on his lips, and he took a deep breath of satisfaction.

“Sarah went and got you coffee from Lil this morning before work. She predicted you will need it, big time. Guess she was right!”

Joel smiled, thanking Ellie for the coffee, making a mental note to thank Sarah for her thoughtfulness. He took another sip, smiling at the thought that you had made this coffee for him. He should text you and thank you.

“Shit.”

“What?” Ellie asked, pouring the oatmeal she was heating up for him into a bowl, placing the now empty pot in the sink and turning the water on to soak it.

“Lily.”

Ellie smiled, turning to give him the bowl, taking a banana and a knife to add to it.

“What about her?” she asked, a sly smile on her face as she cut the banana for him, getting rid of the peel and opening the cupboard to get the honeypot.

“Did I… talk to her last night?”

Ellie’s head snapped towards him, an excited smile accompanying it. “Did you?”

“I’m asking you.”

“The fuck would I know, I didn’t call her. You did.”

“Did I?”

“I don’t know. Did you or did you not call her?”

“I don’t remember, okay?” he said, rather defensively.

Ellie closed the honey jar, pushing the bowl nearer to him and ran off, coming back with his phone in her hand. She shoved it in his face for some reason, causing him to retreat, almost falling off the stool.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting facial recognition, to unlock your phone.”

“Just do the slidey thing.”

Ellie looked confused, sliding the lock on the phone and voila, it unlocked. The teenager looked at her Dad, disbelieving.

“You don’t lock your phone with anything? No password? No thumbprints? Facial recognition?”

“No, should I?”

“Fuck yeah! What if someone steals the phone, your dick pics are gonna go viral man!”

Joel couldn’t speak. His what was gonna go viral now? He looked at his daughter, taking his sunglasses off, shocked that she would say such things. Ellie noticed.

“Oh, come on, I know men do that. Just in case someone tells them to whip them out and measure.”

“Ellie!” he exclaimed, shocked, and immediately regretted it when his head throbbed. She snickered, telling him to eat and producing two Tylenols as if she was some magician. “I don’t do that, okay? And how is it that you know men do this?”

She shrugged, “I go to school. People talk.”

Oh my God, he thought. How soon can he build a panic room and lock both his daughters in it and not let them out? Was that legal? It was, right? He’d still be a good Dad, right?

She checked his call log, a smile appearing on her face. “Oh yeah, you called her alright,” she said, shoving the much too bright screen on his face again. He shrunk back, putting the sunglasses back on.

Shit. What did he say to you?

“Oh, and you texted her,” she said, scrolling up, her eyes widening. “Did you say you want to kill her?”

What? No he didn’t! He grabbed the phone out of her hand and read the text himself. Oh no. No… No, no, no, no, no. Why? Why oh why did he text you when he was drunk? And he called you. Fuck! What did he say to you?

He gave Ellie his phone back, dropping his head on the counter, spooning his oatmeal into his mouth like that, sulking. How the fuck was he going to face you again?

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked.

“I don’t remember what I said to her,” he mumbled, mouth full of oatmeal.

“So call her and find out!”

He lifted his head. “What if I was rude to her? What if I said something bad?”

“Well, you drank that coffee, and you’re still alive, so… it’s not poisoned. I’m sure you didn’t. If you did, you’d be dead.”

Good point. Good point. Okay. He’ll call you.

Fuck, what should he say?

“So…” Ellie tried, elbows on the counter, a smirk on her face, “Are we nervous to call her?”

“No…” he said, rather defensively. Too defensively.

“Uhuh…” she deadpanned, “Just like we’re not nervous about asking her to join us for dinner Friday, right?”

Oh! That was it!

“Hey, I asked her about that! I couldn’t text so I called and asked her.”

“And? What did she say?”

Joel thought for a while. Hard. What did you say?

His head hit the kitchen counter again. “I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

Ellie shook her head, patting him on his back, “Well, you think on that. And then let me know if you need to go over the script to ask her what happened on the call, kay?”

Joel took a deep breath, sulking at the prospect of embarrassing himself, yet again, over the phone with you.

Sarah came home to a very antsy father pacing the backyard, his phone in his hand, both hands gesturing as his lips moved, saying something she couldn’t decipher. The last time she saw him doing this was when she was maybe seven or eight? Just before the first DIY segment he did with Uncle Tommy on that morning show. He didn’t need to do this anymore with his lines. Looked at his scripts once and sort of said whatever came close these days – the directors had given up trying to get him to say exactly what they wanted him to say. So that couldn’t be it.

Ellie was sitting on the couch, watching him go through this obviously important process he simply must go through, a bag of chips in her hands.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s rehearsing what to say to Lil when he finds his balls to call her. He did last night, apparently, to ask her about the dinner Friday, but could not, for the life of him remember what he said to her.”

“Oh, yeah, Lil said he was gonna call her back to ask her again – she didn’t want to say yes while he was drunk. In case he didn’t mean to ask her, you know? I told her he was serious. Couldn’t promise her he will call today, he hasn’t had a hangover in years. She said she’ll come,” Sarah said, smiling uncontrollably at her Dad’s obvious nervousness.

“Oh, really? Should we tell him? Put him out of his misery?”

Sarah contemplated for a bit.

“Nah… let him sweat. This’ll be fun to watch.”

Ellie sat a little bit straighter, crossing her legs to watch more closely. Sarah went outside to join her Dad.

“Hey Dad,” she greeted, giving her old man a kiss and a hug.

“Hey BabyGirl. How was work?”

“It was alright. That talkative parrot was back. The owner refused to believe she could really imitate a dog’s bark. I almost suggested a shaman.”

Joel laughed, the parrot in question a regular since Sarah started her internship.

“I was gonna order dinner. What do you feel like having?” she asked her Dad, an innocent look on her face.

“Er… anything you feel like having. I don’t mind. I just have a quick phone call to make,” he said, raising the hand with his phone in it.

“Okay,” she said, turning around to walk inside. “Oh Dad? I’m supposed to remind you to call Lily, she said you called her last night?” She smiled coyly at her suddenly very flustered father, going inside before he could say anything else.

Joel rubbed his face for the hundredth time since he went out to his backyard that evening. Shit. You’re expecting his call. He really had to call now. You’d been waiting for his call.

His heart expanded slightly at the thought that you talked about him when he wasn’t around. That you were waiting for his call. He spent the entire day agonizing whether or not to call you. Would a text be better? But asking someone out, even if it’s not a date - no, it’s not a date, it’s a family thing… with more than just the two of you, so no, not a date – didn’t seem proper, for some reason.

Sarah and Ellie watched with gleeful smiles as their father straightened his posture, wiping his face and dusting some imaginary dust off his shoulder, lifting his phone up, looking at the screen, fixing his hair as he moved his head around a little, brushing his fingers on his moustache and scruff one final time, as if preparing to go on camera, before taking a visible, deep, deep breath and clicking on his screen, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Lily? Hi, it’s Joel. Miller. Joel Miller. Ellie and Sarah’s Dad?”

Silence. Joel couldn’t hear anything, save for his thundering heartbeats. He looked at his screen, “Hello? You still there?”

You laughed, and Joel swore his heart almost jumped out of his mouth. “Yes, Joel, I’m still here. Why are you introducing yourself to me like I’ve never met you?”

He shut his eyes, shame flooding his system.

“I have no idea. I don’t make this kind of calls a lot,” he said, chuckling slightly.

“And what kind of call would that be?”

He sat down, “The kind where I call to tell the other person I forgot what I said to her last night cause I was too out of it to remember?” he cringed, hoping you wouldn’t be offended.

You snorted, getting sponge cake all over your couch. “You, Mr Miller, is responsible for getting my couch cleaned now. I just sprayed sponge cake all over it.”

“Send me the bill!” he joked easily, a huge, relieved smile on his face. “Is that what you’re having for dinner? Sponge cake?”

“Uhuh,” you mumbled, trying to chew as fast as you could to answer him. “I’m so hungry but I’m too tired to cook, reheat or even wait for food to arrive. Luckily, I have this sponge cake my neighbour gave me last night.”

“You should’ve told me, I would’ve sent something over,” he said, facepalming himself for blurting that out. Who the fuck was he to be sending you food? You’re gonna find him creepy now.

“Well, even if you did, I would’ve gotten full from sponge cake cause whatever you sent me would get here too late.”

Phew. You didn’t find him creepy. What the heck was going on? He talked to you all the time, why was he so nervous? You’re not even here, not even on video. Why the nerves?

“So all this horror of me eating sponge cake for dinner, what are you having for dinner?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, the girls are supposed to do the ordering,” he turned around just in time to see his girls clambering off the couch, Ellie with a huge packet of chips in her hands. “I just eat whatever they order.”

“You do take out a lot? And just to be clear, that’s what I do, can’t cook to save my life.”

He laughed, “I do cook sometimes, simple things. Paid enough attention in my Mama’s kitchen to survive. Had Sarah to cook for. And Tommy too, most of the time.”

“Ah… survival cooking huh?”

“Yep. Only a few poisonings recorded so far, so fingers crossed!” he said, a smile clear in his voice.

You smiled to yourself, swooning internally at this man’s humbleness.

“So how come you’re not cooking today?”

“Uh… Ellie felt like take out,” he quickly said, throwing the teenager under the bus. He couldn’t possibly tell you he spent the entire day trying to come up with the perfect things to say regarding the call he made last night that completely vacated his mind, so much so he forgot to cook. Thank God Ellie was home and ordered lunch.

“So, hangover gone?”

Joel groaned, covering his face with his hand, ashamed to be reminded of it. “Why do hangovers feel so much worse when you’re in your forties? I swear I was dead when I woke up this morning.”

You laughed, “Is my laughing giving you a headache? I’ll stop if it is…”

“No!” he countered, a little too quickly.

Please laugh some more. I need to hear you laugh to breathe.

“Okay.”

Phew.

“So, if you don’t mind reminding me, I know I called you to ask about Friday night. But for the life of me I can’t remember if you answered, or if I even asked you,” he tentatively asked, cringing at himself.

“You did ask me to join you guys for dinner. I didn’t answer, in case you were drunkenly asking? As in you didn’t mean to ask but did because you were drunk?”

“No, I really did mean to ask you. I swear.”

“You said you would get back to me today to prove you were serious.”

“Well, thank God I called you, then. Lily, will you join us for dinner Friday?”

“Are you sure I’m not intruding? Meeting Tommy’s new girlfriend, that sounds private.”

“You’re really not. Please?”

“Do I have to dress up? I mean, are we going somewhere with a dress code? Cause I don’t do that. I don’t… I’m not comfortable with that.”

“No, not at all. I mean, you can dress up if you feel like it, but you don’t have to, I promise.”

You were quiet for a beat.

Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes…

“Okay.”

Joel didn’t realize it, but he shot up so quickly his back creaked. His limbs were involuntarily twitching, threatening to break into moves that were definitely out of character for him. He heard snickering from inside, turning around to see his girls running inside from Sarah’s balcony, the sliding door quickly shut behind them.

Thank God he had enough control to stop from breaking into a dance.

He composed himself, trying hard not to gush.

“Yeah? Okay! Uhm, I’ll pick you up 730?”

“I can Uber, you know.”

“No… let me pick you up, please?”

“Okay.”

No… no, no, no, no, no… Was there not an ounce of hair gel in this house? How was it that he didn’t own hair gel? Shit. He barged out of his room, grabbing his keys, wondering if there was enough time to stop at the store for hair gel. He hated himself at that moment. Why was he such a sloppy man? Would it kill him to have hair gel lying around? Thank God he had deodorant. And damn it, why didn’t he own any colognes? He rummaged through the pantry, looking through the toiletries stock for anything he could use in place of hair gel, cologne, but found nothing.

Sarah came running in, having just arrived home from work, a paper bag in her hands. She went straight for her Dad, just as Ellie came out of her room, still not dressed for the dinner.

“You guys aren’t ready? We’re gonna be late!” Joel panicked, looking at his watch.

“Uh, Joel, chill. It’s 6.20. Dinner’s not ‘til 8.”

Oh.

Sarah pulled a stool out, asking Joel to sit down. She rummaged in the paper bag and pulled out some sort of spray, spritzing some on her palms and running them through his hair, styling them as she did.

“This,” she said, face full of concentration as she ran her fingers in his hair, “Should keep the style, but not make your hair oily or sticky.”

She and Ellie then studied their father, perched nervously on the kitchen stool, head tilted to the side, a small smile on their faces. Joel felt like he was on display, nervously tugging on the dress shirt he had on. Ellie came over, folding the sleeves of his shirt to just below his elbows, taking a step back, looking impressed.

“You clean up really well, Dad,” Sarah said. Ellie nodded. Their faces were… something… unreadable to Joel. Sarah reached into the paper bag once more, taking out a glass bottle, lightly spritzing Joel’s pulse points before telling him he’s ready to go now.

“What about you two?”

“Sarah’s driving us. We need to stop at the store for something,” Ellie said.

“Plus, traffic from Lil’s to the restaurant is not bad, but the traffic to her place from here can be, so you should go now,” Sarah said, pulling him to stand.

Joel stood at the garage entrance for a bit, wondering if he should just wait for the girls.

“Go, Dad, it’s okay. We’ll meet you there.”

Okay, okay. Joel checked his pockets for his wallet, phone and keys, and opened the garage door. He turned to look at the two girls once more, just to be sure.

“Go!”  

Joel finally left, and the girls waited until he backed out of the garage to call their favourite BBQ place for take-out, sly, hopeful smiles on their faces.

Joel’s drive to your place was filled with anxiety. He knew this was not a date, but God was he nervous. Sure, he practically had lunch alone with you almost daily for weeks and had that lunch at the Thai place with you once, but this felt different. He didn’t even look at his usual t-shirts or flannels when getting dressed. He wanted to look good. Not just for you, obviously. Just good… in general.

He got to your place at 7.15, drumming his fingers on his steering wheel, wondering if he should go up to get you, or call you to let you know he was there. He looked at the rearview mirror to check his hair, running his fingers through his scruff just in case, smelling his armpits to make sure he didn’t smell bad. He looked over to the passenger seat, frowning at the piece of paper he saw on the footwell, bending over to get it, a receipt from the take out last week. Shit, he didn’t wash his truck. He chanced a glance at the back seat, an array of folders and notebooks and blueprints and paper bags scattered all over. He jumped out of his truck, going to the back to clear everything out, just managing to hide everything in the bed of his truck when he heard you call his name.

Fuck. Him. Hard.

Joel felt lightheaded. You were smiling at him, walking over in a simple pair of dark jeans and a dark blue blouse, making him curse at himself for choosing this dark grey dress shirt instead of the dark blue one.

“Wow, you clean up nice,” you said, your dimply smile gracing your face, light make up on, your lips a darker shade than your usual blush, your hair free falling over your shoulders.

Joel found himself blubbering, finding the right words to say that would still get his point across without sounding like an idiot. But you reached him before he could, giving him a peck on his cheek as a hello.

It was as if all the vocabularies he had amassed since he was blessed with the ability to speak left his head, and all he could do was mumble something akin to ‘you look beautiful’ out, which he was convinced sounded more like a blurb.

He ran to his passenger side door, offering you his hand to help you get in, and cursed himself as he closed the door and ran to the other side. When he opened his door, the smell of your perfume flooded his senses, and he had to fight the urge to bury his nose in your neck to get a better whiff, as if he was not about to openly swoon at what he was already smelling.

“Last chance to back out, Miller, you sure you want me there?” you teased.

“Yes,” he finally managed to say clearly, “I’m sure. You look really nice, by the way.”

“You already said that,” you told him, gracing him with another smile, “Thank you. At least I don’t smell like coffee tonight.”

Joel had to bite his tongue from saying he liked it when you smelled like coffee. The way your hair smelled when you hugged him goodbye the other day, like coffee mixed with coconut milk, almost made him collapse from swooning.

“Nothing wrong with smelling like coffee,” he said, putting the truck into gear.

“Ahh, see, tell me that when you spend every single day in the truck with me for years, Miller. You’ll never want a cup of coffee again, I promise you that.”

Images of spending his retirement in the truck with you filled his head and wouldn’t leave.

“Lily, Joel, I’d like you to meet Maria,” Tommy beamed. You shook Maria’s hand, and she pulled you into a hug. Tommy leaned across his new girlfriend to kiss you on the cheek. The four of you sat down, Joel finally noticing that the table was for four, and not six.

“The girls called, Sarah’s car wouldn’t start, it’s just us four,” Tommy easily explained before Joel could even ask.

Joel took his phone out to call her, his protective fatherly instinct taking over, but Tommy pushed his hand away. “They’re at home, Joel, it’s not like they’re stuck somewhere. They’ll be fine. Let’s order, huh?”

The four of you chatted easily throughout dinner, Maria getting along with you famously. She worked at one of your father’s chains for a couple of months, she said, minding the till, but never got the chance to try making coffee – she was too new, and left for college soon after. You offered to teach her, if she was interested, just come by the truck, and she happily accepted, excited at a chance to try latte art.

Joel couldn’t stop watching his brother with Maria. He really did seem relaxed, happy, content. Heck, even the fact that he was introducing her to him was a big deal. He had never brought a lady home to meet anyone. And Maria, she seemed nice, very easy going, very friendly, and obviously very patient, if she could stand being in Tommy’s company this long, as short as that may be. But as much as he tried to focus on the main purpose of the dinner, to meet Tommy’s girlfriend, he found himself pulled back to you, how easily you got along with his brother, his girlfriend, how you tried and almost succeeded in teaching him how to use the chopsticks, how easily you included him in the conversations, how comfortable he was with you being there, despite this being a non-date.

He struggled a bit with one particularly slippery piece of sashimi, his efforts to get the piece of salmon between the bamboo sticks without drenching himself in shoyu showing, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. He was about to give up and take the darned fish with his fingers when you reached over, clipped it effortlessly with your chopsticks, dipped it in shoyu and offered it to him, a wide smile on your face. He laughed at himself for his lack of dexterity, taking the salmon into his mouth, giggling a little as you mimed his mouth movements like one would when feeding a child.

Tommy watched with interest as his brother let his guard down, clearly enjoying this time with you. Maria leaned over, quietly asking him if he was sure the two of you were not together already? Tommy raised his eyebrows at her, and the two gave each other knowing smiles, not that you or Joel noticed, as you fed him another piece from your own plate, giggling like schoolgirls as he took the piece from your chopsticks, his face going a bit red as the wasabi hit his senses so hard he almost sneezed. You rubbed his back, asking him if he was okay, and he only laughed, nodding in response.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here, this is very merry,” Angela came sashaying to the table, her typical smile plastered on her face. “Angela Maddison, I’m their agent,” she introduced herself to you and Maria, offering the very tips of her fingers to the both of you, immediately retreating her hand once both of you took it, wiping her fingers at the back of your chair.

“Hey Angela,” Tommy mumbled, “Who are you here with?” he asked, taking a sip of his matcha tea, not at all looking interested in knowing the answer.

It was very odd. This woman was their agent, had been for 20 years, yet their faces snapped shut the moment she made herself known. That little fact was not lost on Maria either, it seemed, she was looking at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Oh, I’m just here with Antonio,” she cooed, turning slightly and waving her pointer finger at a handsome young man at what you assumed was her table. Tommy nodded disinterestedly. Joel glanced at the table, nodding at the young man, before helping himself to a piece of maki off your plate. There was an awkward silence for a beat, Angela still standing there as if expecting an invite to join you, her eyes eyeing Joel’s movements.

Joel made to take an unagi off your plate, and you stopped his chopsticks with yours, letting out an exaggerated gasp, playfully chastising him for trying to steal your favourite piece, the one you were saving for last. He picked it up anyway, dipping it into the shoyu, bringing it to your lips, an apologetic plea, complete with a playful pout on his face, morphing into a smile when you took it into your mouth.

“Well, I’ll see you guys around then, this looks like a fun date night!” Angela finally said, a beaming smile that made you want to cringe on her face. “It was nice to meet you both… erm…?” she said to you and Maria, before seemingly realizing that neither Joel nor Tommy actually introduced you two to her.

“See you around, Angela,” Tommy said with finality in his voice, turning to Joel to ask him something about some neighbour they had growing up, the conversation continuing well after Angela’s sourpuss and footsteps retreated from your table.

The four of you stood in front of the restaurant, chit chatting idly as you waited for the Miller men’s cars to be brought around. You and Maria exchanged numbers. She hugged you goodbye when Tommy’s car was brought around, giving Joel a peck on his cheek, Tommy doing the same to you, before leaving, Maria telling you she will text you about those coffee lessons. The two of you waved them goodbye as you waited for his truck.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Very full, but otherwise okay,” you replied. “If I fall asleep in your truck you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

“Hey, I tried to steal your sushi but you wouldn’t let me,” he teased, “But if you do fall asleep in my truck, I’d have no choice but to bring you home. I don’t have the heart to wake you if you do. You can sleep in the truck in my garage.”

“Such a gentleman!” you said, hand clutched at your chest, pretending to be touched.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, it’s got AC and everything!” he joked.

You laughed, hard, the man himself almost bending double laughing with you.

His truck was brought around, and he placed his hand on the small of your back to lead you to it.

“Is that your girlfriend, Joel? Has the elusive Joel Miller finally gotten himself a girlfriend?” a man’s voice asked. You turned to see a phone pointed at you, the flashlight shining in your face. His voice was so loud a group of young ladies walking by stopped in their tracks, their faces morphing into excitement when they saw Joel.

“Oh my God, Joel! We love you! Are you his girlfriend? You’re so lucky! Oh, she’s so pretty!” A chorus of cooing voices followed. You kept your head down, Joel wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close to him so the man’s camera couldn’t capture you, bringing you to his truck. He opened the door for you and helped you up, making sure you were all in before shutting the door behind you, tipping the valet, and getting in himself.

“You okay?” he asked, looking a bit alarmed.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just…”

Your door opened suddenly, the man had followed you, shoving the phone in your face again, loudly asking for your name, if you were Joel Miller’s girlfriend. You tried to pull the door closed again, but he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out. You fell to the sidewalk, the ladies screaming something or other in unison, yet separately. You pushed the man away, you could just make out the many phones aimed towards you as you tried to get up, the man grabbing your arm roughly again, asking you one more time for your name, and if you were his girlfriend. More hands landed on you, but whose, you didn’t know. The screams from the ladies and the small crowd gathering was lost to you but overwhelming you at the same time as you tried to get away from the man’s firm grasp on your arm, and the other hands on your person.

“Let her go! Get away from her!” you heard Joel yell out, the man pulled away from you so roughly he flew a few feet back onto his ass. The doorman at the restaurant and the valet person held the man, along with some passersby, as Joel lifted you into his arms and deposited you, surprisingly gently, back into his truck, shutting the door, telling you to lock it, before running towards his side of the truck and driving off, his right hand landing on your left one, squeezing it tight, asking you over and over if you were alright.

“Dave dear, be a doll and call my agent for me,” Cleo’s voice rang. Dave took a deep breath as he stilled his movements before carefully folding the silk camisole he had just finished ironing and placing it in the suitcase for the vacation they were going to take, which he now knew was never going to happen.

He padded out of the closet and found Cleo lying on her stomach on her bed, watching some story on Insta with interest.

“Isn’t this that bitch you dumped for me?” she asked him, a sly smirk on her face, showing him her phone. Dave looked at the screen. He watched in horror as some man opened the door to a truck that you were in and pulled you out, only to shove a phone in your face, as the person who took the video and the people around him yelled at the guy to leave you alone, some trying to pull you away from him. He was relieved when you managed to push him away, but his head froze as the guy grabbed you again, rougher this time, not letting you go, screaming at you, asking for your name and if you were dating ‘him’.

He watched as Joel Miller, the man he knew had history with the pap, pulled the man off you, sending him flying back, quickly taking you into his arms, protecting you with his own body, before lifting you back into his truck, yelling at you to lock the door, getting in himself and peeling away.

“Call my agent,” Cleo’s voice snapped him out of the chaos that was the video, the people around cursing at the guy for being physical with you.

“Why?” he asked, Cleo’s smirking face making him feel uncomfortable.

“Would you just do it? Sheesh!” she snapped.

Dave rolled his eyes, dialling the agent before giving her back her phone. “You had your phone in your hand, couldn’t you have just called him yourself?” he asked, knowing exactly why she wanted him to call the guy. She wanted him to know why she was calling. Cleo eyed him as she held the phone to her ear, her eyes shining with malice.

“Hey Tom? Savvant here,” she cooed into the phone. “Can we get in contact with Build with the Millers? I think I need a closet makeover.”

Part 10

[anika-ann]

It's heeeeere😍😍

Alright, alright. First let me say I already love it, even if you're breaking my heart🥺 then again the gorgeous art clued me on that.

If he had a partner maybe this wouldn't be so bad? Maybe people wouldn't constantly come up to talk to him because he'd be dancing himself, someone in his arms, looking at him lovingly...

Oh the opening is already so sad🥺 but I live for the longing for a partner and it's so understandable he'd like someone to share both joy and the recently found burden with🥺

They look cold, although he has a smile plastered on his face. Fake niceties like Steve has grown used to.

OUCH. But also yes, that's probably how it is with many people for him now😭

"Black isn't really your colour." Steve's brows furrow. What was that supposed to mean? "You know many families waited for the old crone to finally step down and let you be the king. Women shouldn't hold that much power, especially when there's no king at her side to keep her in check."

I really went from wow that's rude to THE F*** DID YOU JUST SAY-

"Whatever deal you're referring to will not stand with today's laws. So you can stop badmouthing my mom and trying to get me to marry your desperate granddaughter now." Steve spits.

#proud in fact, even if the crazy deal holds, he really should stop badmouthing the saint Sarah Rogers the former QUEEN mind you- but also if the grandfather throws Steve's words about reader on her later on I will throw hands☹

He wishes she was here... That he wouldn't need to mourn her so publicly while also keeping his tears in to not seem weak. He wishes he could wear the dark blue suits she got for him because according to her that's the colour he looks the most handsome in. He wishes she could brush his hair out of his face one more time. Just once more with that sweet smile that was reserved for him only.

MISS MA'AM HOW DARE YOU to portray his grief so well, missing his wonderful ma' in big things and small ones 🥺 (not to mention the ENDING, don't get me started)

How you wish you had someone to share a seat with... to share a life with. You wouldn't have a stranger next to you. You'd have a partner. You could cuddle and mind your own business at the same time... or play a game? Would you get upset at them winning Uno? Or would you love them too much to get frustrated?

Oh I adore how her longing mirrors his. That gives me a bit of hope🥰

"You visit your family that you never see and you show up dressed like some slob. You could wear something nice every now and then." (...) You greet everyone and listen to your siblings' judgments until your grandpa stops them.

They do not deserve her, period😤

"Well I recently met the young man and reminded him of this deal. He's more than eager to fulfill it and marry you. He'll collect you and bring you to Brooken tomorrow." He squeezes your arm, a smile plastered on his face. You can't do anything but stare at him and then burst out in laughter. They were messing with you. Or playing along with your grandpa's dementia... But no one else was laughing.

Love her reaction. Fuck the grandfather's lying ass.

“It's not all that bad… at least he's handsome!” Your friend tries to reason. “Plus you'd be a queen! No more shitty job that doesn't pay you enough. You'd live in a castle and wear pretty dresses.” She offers and is met with a heavy sigh.

The friend spitting facts 🤌

“Yeah that's great but at what cost? My freedom. I really love my one bedroom apartment. You know why? Because it's mine. I can do what I want."

Yeah this makes me super sad for her, because she broke away once from her shitty family to be free and now she's wrestled into their claws again AND a marriage.

“Who knows maybe your family had blackmail material on the royals.”

"Dating must be hard when you're a king.”

“Listen, I gotta go… but give it a chance? And if he's an asshole and you need out, you text me and we'll come to break you out ok?”

...again though, love her friend saying the real things🤭 and her standing her side. #friendshipgoals

Your eyes fall on the monstrosity of dress your mother picked out for you. Maybe if you truly wore that pink pile of whatever the seamstress had left over, he'd run for the hills and you'd still be free.

😂😂 I'm sorry😂😂 good for her, save some of her spite. But that also makes me wonder if Steve will think she's trying too hard and will think she really is desperate to marry him even if she is only forced to do it too🥺

Oh the feels😭 can't wait for you to murder my heart with next chapter🥲

Not the game they play

Steve Rogers x reader

Words: 4.1k

Summary: An arranged marriage flips your life upside down. What you thought you knew about your family doesn't seem to be true at all. How will Steve and you navigate your life together?

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, a swear word here and there, insulting of Sarah Rogers, yes that needed to be a warning, difficult family relationship, if I missed anything please let me know

A/N: This is the first part of a series. I had this idea for over two years with some scenes already written out or well thought through. Thank you all for encouraging me to finally do something with it. But don't come for me, you wanted this!

I promised to tag the lovely @ronearoundblindly 🩷

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Chapter One - Cannot stop the rain

The constant bustle of people and their conversations were a white noise like no other. One you can't concentrate on too long, especially when you have to hold conversation with whoever thought it was his turn to smooze a king.

Steve hates galas. He hates the pretentiousness that came with them and the people who attended but most of all he hates that he had no choice but to go. A king missing one of these was only excused when a serious matter arose. And those don't come by easily when you need them. He yearned for the times when he didn't need to attend these things, back when his mom still was the reigning queen and shielded him from this world. But with his mom gone he had to step up.

Gone where the days he travelled the world, studied art and made new friends. So easily replaced with duty and grief... and a stupid crown on his head. He was lucky enough he could hire his friends as staff, lucky enough his oldest friend was his right hand man and never left him alone for too long. James Bucky Barnes, his childhood defender, his best friend, his right hand and occasionally, much to Steve's dismay, his wingman. If only that would have worked out already. He seems to be casually watching people dance but in reality he watches the couples spend quality time together at a stuck up event. If he had a partner maybe this wouldn't be so bad? Maybe people wouldn't constantly come up to talk to him because he'd be dancing himself, someone in his arms, looking at him lovingly...

"Senator Lee is coming up next" a smooth voice mumbles over his shoulder, Sam Wilson. A friend he found in college, a politics major and his chief of staff. Steves eyes find the older gentleman approaching him. He's talked with him before, quite often actually, and he was always so kind and encouraging.

The small talk with senator Lee went by faster than Steve anticipated. Before the next person could swoop in to talk to him he excused himself to the restroom. Bucky, his honorary security detail for the evening since he refused to take his actual one, made to follow him. "It's just the bathroom Buck. I'll be fine and I'll come straight back here." he says lowly, his eyes rolling at the antics. He didn't need this much security before he became a king. Bucky hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to Sam who looks a bit unsure himself. "I mean... It's just the bathroom... No danger there. Nat wouldn't go inside with him either right?" Steve lets out a sigh at Sam's statement. Natasha, the head of security, ruled with an iron fist. She had all of them so scared they wouldn't dare to disobey her orders... except maybe her husband Clint but he got free passes for life.

"Right... Just come right back here?" Bucky looks at him and with a sigh and a nod Steve agrees. Before they can say anything else and before whatever lady just seems to approach them can start to talk, Steve hurries to the restroom. He locks himself in a cabin just for a few moments alone. But even those aren't truly alone.

The door to the restroom opens up not too long after him and of course that person takes ages to do their business. With a silent grumble Steve finishes up and leaves the cabin to wash his hands. Just then the door to another cabin opens and an older gentleman with thinning grey hair, in a three piece suit steps out. His eyes meet Steve's in the mirror as he walks up to the sink area himself. They look cold, although he has a smile plastered on his face. Fake niceties like Steve has grown used to.

"King Rogers." He acknowledges and Steve simply gives a nod. He isn't even safe in the fucking bathroom!

"Black isn't really your colour." Steve's brows furrow. What was that supposed to mean? "You know many families waited for the old crone to finally step down and let you be the king. Women shouldn't hold that much power, especially when there's no king at her side to keep her in check. Who would have thought it would take her to die for you to finally step up." The man seems calm and collected as if he didn't just insult Steve's mother.

"What the fuck did you say about my mom? Old crone?!" His blood was boiling and he was this close to hitting the old man if it weren't for his manners. His mom raised him better but she wasn't here to keep him in check was she?

"Oh calm down Steven. No need to get all flustered and angry. Hold your tongue before you say something you'll regret. We'll be one happy family soon after all." The man smirked and calmly dried his hands. He teaches over and turns off Steve's tab, the blonde frozen from anger. What did he just say? He must be demented. "What?" Is all that Steve can bring out. Confused and angry and still so so close to punch that guy.

"Oh you don't know. Can't say I'm surprised, your mother shielded you a lot. Now I have to do all the explaining. That's why women should never be in charge.” he rolls his eyes. “Are you familiar with the Hastings family?" The man hands Steve one of the towels and casually leans against the sink. Hastings? Steve has heard that name before... Wasn't that the royal family that fell from grace three generations ago? His eyes flit to the man.

"Sounds familiar." Is all he can grid out. What is this man on about? Is he just here to gossip?

"Clever boy." The smirk on the old man's face is uncanny. As if he can read Steve all too well. "You know exactly who they are but instead of going off to gossip like all the other royals out there you keep your answer neutral. What a good king you make." Steve's confusion grows.

"What does the Hastings family have to do with us becoming one?" Steve bites out. "Ah straight to business. Just how I like it. You see the Hastings family and the Rogers family go way back. Many, many generations in fact. King Joseph Rogers the first and King George Hastings even made a little pact, that yes, still stands today." His eyes search Steve's face and his grin looks so satisfied. "That the families will unite as soon as there is a male and female heir born into the families. Now ever since then both families only bore strong sons with an occasional daughter that was out of the age range for marriage. That is until roughly 30 years ago. When you and my granddaughter were born just two years apart." Steve's brow lifts. The old man was a Hastings. Wanting to fulfill a deal that was made over a hundred years ago... Bullshit.

"Whatever deal you're referring to will not stand with today's laws. So you can stop badmouthing my mom and trying to get me to marry your desperate granddaughter now." Steve spits. The man just grins. "Oh, it will Steven. Here let your lawyers check this and then get back to me about when my granddaughter can move in with you. " He laughs and hands Steve an envelope before he walks out of the restroom and back into the gala.

Steve's eyes fall on the envelope, it's burning in his hands but he needs to get this checked. He can't marry someone because of an old deal. He can't marry someone with a grandfather daring to insult his mom that's not even been dead for a month. Steve's eyes start to burn with tears. His mom shielded him from so much while she also did her best to prepare him for this life... He wishes she was here... That he wouldn't need to mourn her so publicly while also keeping his tears in to not seem weak. He wishes he could wear the dark blue suits she got for him because according to her that's the colour he looks the most handsome in. He wishes she could brush his hair out of his face one more time. Just once more with that sweet smile that was reserved for him only.

He takes a shakey breath and swallows the lump in his throat. A brief look in the mirror, a deep breath, straightening his tie. He can't show weakness. Not here, not ever. 'Safe the tears for your bedroom, Rogers.' the voice in his head commands. He wipes away the stray tear that got caught in his lashes, pockets the envelope and with another deep breath makes his way back to his friends.

They're chatting, most likely teasing each other. As soon as Bucky sees him both heads turn to Steve with a concerned gaze swiping up and down. They seem to come to the conclusion that he's okay and relax. "We need to leave." he says as soon as he reaches them. His tone more urgent than he wanted to. "Why you got diarrhea? Took you pretty long in there... I told ya to lay it easy on the hors d'oeuvres." Bucky teases with a grin that immediately falls as soon as he sees Steves eyes. Sam can't even get his joke in before Bucky declares that they're leaving. He leads Steve to the host of the gala for a quick goodbye and then out to the car they came in.

Within 10 minutes they're on the road. For the first time with only the three of them in the car, Steve pulls up the divider for privacy. Shielded from Sam and Bucky, he allows himself to spill a few tears for his mother before he can make it to the safety of his bedroom. He knows that will be away for another few hours, especially with the envelope that's burning a hole into his pocket.

Ever since you were young your family hasn't cared much for you. The only thing that was important to them was that you did exactly what they wanted... in every aspect of your life. You got the education they wanted, you went to college for what they wanted and you hid your interests to make them like you. At the beginning of your twenties you finally broke out of that circle. You moved far away with your friend and only occasionally visited for important matters, much to their dismay. Just like you were now.

The train ride never isn't boring, even with a good book and music. The most thrilling plot or the most beautiful lyrics couldn't distract you from the stranger sitting next to you. Somehow you always had the luck of them eating something disgusting, talking loudly on the phone, constantly bumping into you or being a stranger to the concept of headphones.

Your eyes wander over to your friend and her husband for the millionth time. They were sitting together, cuddling, yet somehow each minding their own business. Her husband looking out of the window, headphones in, music on and daydreaming. Your friend reading the newest book from her favourite author. How you wish you had someone to share a seat with... to share a life with. You wouldn't have a stranger next to you. You'd have a partner. You could cuddle and mind your own business at the same time... or play a game? Would you get upset at them winning Uno? Or would you love them too much to get frustrated?

You let out a sigh. You've been single for so long... a partner was still written in the stars and wouldn't come by anytime soon. So you'd have to deal with strangers next to you on the train, the couch for yourself and your family constantly badgering you when you'd move back and find a partner. It's not like you planned being almost thirty and still single. As a child you dreamed about being married with children at this age. Maybe having a little house and a dog. You wanted to be surrounded by friends, leave your family out of it as much as you could. Just enjoy life with your partner. But here you were, still alone. Maybe wallowing in self pity at a life that could have been would be a good way to pass time till you were back at your family's place.

You pull your suitcase after you. The walk from the train station wasn't too long and you know better than to ask anyone to pick you up. You don't want to inconvenience them or owe them. Last time you asked your mother and she made you wash all the dishes from the family party by hand after you played waitress during the entirety of it. You'd rather choose walking 30 minutes to the house than do that again.

As you come closer you spot your grandpa's car in the driveway. He must be here to oversee the preparations for his birthday party tomorrow. You briefly look down at yourself, jeans and t-shirt. It looks good enough but you already know you'd be criticised left and right. Never enough for them.

With a deep breath you ring the doorbell and wait. It's not too long before the door opens to reveal your mother. She takes in your appearance and sneers before she greets you. She steps to the side to let you in. "You visit your family that you never see and you show up dressed like some slob. You could wear something nice every now and then." She grumbles before she goes to the living room to announce that you're here. Well if you knew your grandpa would be here a day early you would have tried to wear something nicer. You leave your suitcase next to the door and follow her into the living room. You greet everyone and listen to your siblings' judgments until your grandpa stops them.

"Enough. Let's not ruin this joyful day for our family." He announces before he gets up and stands next to you. Joyful day? What happened? Did he finally win the lottery? You look at him confused.

"You all need to learn to not criticise her so much anymore. After all it would be a bad image to her fiancé and the press." Everyone nods along as if what he said did make any sense. Even your father who usually only shows interest for the drink in front of him, nods along. Has he got dementia since the last time you visited? "What?" Is all you can bring out at which your mother scoffs.

"Well dear... It took you a long time to find a partner, which in hindsight I'm very grateful about. You know our family has a long history and its history and glory shall be restored soon enough.” Your grandpa declares like it's some victory. “Many hundred years ago our ancestors made a deal with the royal family of Brooken. The first heirs of opposite sex shall marry and unite our families. It just never worked out age wise until you came along. Born just two years after the now reigning King Steven Rogers." He explains and you're absolutely sure they all lost their damn minds. No royal family would make a deal with commoners, especially back then.

"Well I recently met the young man and reminded him of this deal. He's more than eager to fulfill it and marry you. He'll collect you and bring you to Brooken tomorrow." He squeezes your arm, a smile plastered on his face. You can't do anything but stare at him and then burst out in laughter. They were messing with you. Or playing along with your grandpa's dementia... But no one else was laughing. They all looked rather serious... And the house looked so clean... Was this not a joke?

"This... This has to be a joke...?" You say, looking at him with desperation. "Why would it be? You'll restore the Hasting family's glory and finally be of use to us.” your heart breaks a little more. Were you truly this worthless? Did nothing you did for them before count? You look up at them, desperate to find any sign that this wasn't true. That they were playing a prank. The stone faces of your parents and siblings look back at you. This... This wasn't a joke. They'd marry you off to some stranger. To a king? To gain what? What about your life? What about your place? Your job? You can't just leave that behind for some king who's probably a huge asshole... Your long fought for freedom taken by your family and that guy. Back under control, every move watched and criticised.

The rest of the day has been cruel. Your family was between joy at your engagement to a king and anger at you trying to refuse. In-between all the explaining, that really didn't give you any new information or any that would make sense of the situation, you texted your friend which promised to call you later.

“It's not all that bad… at least he's handsome!” Your friend tries to reason. “Plus you'd be a queen! No more shitty job that doesn't pay you enough. You'd live in a castle and wear pretty dresses.” She offers and is met with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah that's great but at what cost? My freedom. I really love my one bedroom apartment. You know why? Because it's mine. I can do what I want. And in his castle? I probably won't even be allowed to hang a picture on the wall. There'll be people watching my every move and reporting back to him. I'll be just as miserable as I used to be at my parents place.” The white of the ceiling starts to become blurry with the tears that are about to spill. “What if I can never see you again? What if he won't let me have any friends?” Your voice breaks at the thought.

“He doesn't look like he'd be such an asshole. He looks nice and the articles write nice things about him too.” She reasons. “Yeah and who has big influence on the press? Him. Of course they wouldn't write anything bad about him.” You complain. “They have written not so nice things about him. Especially with him grieving his mother…” that you do feel sorry for. They seemed to have a good relationship, losing a loving parent isn't easy. “Give him a chance. You never know maybe he's a prince charming.” Her voice sounds encouraging.

“What does a king even want with a commoner? Why would a king make a deal like that hundreds of years ago? I don't get it…” you question. “Who knows maybe your family had blackmail material on the royals.” At that you snort a bit. “Maybe… he seems eager to get married. My family is eager for this. Why am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?” Your hands pick on the scratchy blanket your mother put on the guest bed for you. “Because you're the one who loses a lot for this. Your family gains royalty… at least they'll be royal adjacent? I mean they do have the stick up their asses like royals already. And he gains a wife? Dating must be hard when you're a king.” She muses. “His last relationship was six years ago. His ex left him for another prince and got married like a year after.” You hum at the information she found. His whole life could be found on the internet which makes you wonder what he even knows about you? Your family didn't even know you so he couldn't even get something accurate from them.

“Listen, I gotta go… but give it a chance? And if he's an asshole and you need out, you text me and we'll come to break you out ok?” you sigh at your friends offer but ultimately agree. You'll try, it's not like you can leave the house and flee without your family noticing and coming for you anyways. You place your phone on the nightstand and cuddle up in bed. Your eyes fall on the monstrosity of dress your mother picked out for you. Maybe if you truly wore that pink pile of whatever the seamstress had left over, he'd run for the hills and you'd still be free.

"Sorry Steve... I can check a few more things but this is airtight... They can force you to marry that girl..." his lawyer says. Steve sighs and looks up from his desk to look at the brunette who meets him with a warm empathetic smile. Maria Hill, top of her class, badass in their softball team and brilliant lawyer. Steve recommended her to his mom when the old lawyer retired. Maria showed her wits and was hired within two hours of her interview.

"There's no way a deal from over a hundred years ago still holds up! You're telling me there was not a single occasion where this desk could have already been fulfilled? Aren't the Hastings fucking hornballs with so many family members? They're not even royal anymore! How does this hold up?" Bucky rants, clearly trying to protect his friend. Maria meets his eyes and lifts an eyebrow.

"Well if you want to go through the entire family trees and history to try and prove that be my guest. Matter of fact is that King Joseph and King George thought of everything in their agreement. Even the downfall of royalty... Or in this case the downfall of one royal family. This seems to be their way back. Making Steve marry the granddaughter so at least she is tuly royal." Maria says dryly. "I will check it over once more. I think we all should get as much rest as this night still offers but... don't get your hopes up Steve." She adds as she gets up and takes the contract that was in the envelope before. "What if we kill her. Can't marry someone that's dead" Bucky suggests and immediately gets a slap on the back of his head from Sam.

"As your lawyer I would advice against the murder of the future spouse of your best friend. You'd be one of the first suspects and I'm sorry to say this Barnes but your pokerface isn't as great as you'd like to think." Maria states before she looks at Steve. He's exhausted, his face in his hands, his hair ruffled. "Go to bed Steve." She says softly, worried about her friend.

Steve let's out a sigh and gets up. "Dismissed. Good night." Is all he can say before he drags himself out of his office and up the stairs. His mind is a flurry of thoughts that just won't shut up no matter how much he tries. He lets out a sigh as soon as he reaches the third floor. To the left is his room, to the right the room of his mother. His legs move on their own, carrying him to the portrait of her that's covered in a black veil. In the last month he often stood in front of it. He wished it good night before he'd get in bed. Just like he planned to do today.

"Night mom..." He whispers, the tears in his eyes returning once more. "This is all so hard without you… you would know what to do with this stupid deal… I wish you were here." his voice breaks at that. He gulps and tries to hold back his tears. He isn't in the safety of his own bedroom yet. But he isn't sure he's gonna make it till there. His eyes wander to his door, so far away, and back to the portrait. He gulps and moves towards her door. Her room is safe too. Even if it brings sad memories.

He softly closes the door behind him, his eyes falling onto her bed. He'd often sleep with her as a child. When he had nightmares, when he was upset about his father dying, when he was sick. Just one more time he tells himself and takes off his shoes. He can sleep in the sweatpants and shirt he put on earlier, he doesn't need a fancy pyjama set. Hesitantly he slips under the yellow covers. His nose immediately fills with her scent. Her favourite laundry detergent mixed with her perfume and he can't hold back the tears any longer. The dam breaks and he sobs into her pillow. After many minutes of crying he falls asleep enveloped by her one more time.

[skoulsons]

Joel “we keep our histories to ourselves” Miller openly talking to Ellie in decent detail about his suicide attempt the day after Sarah died

[acourtofquestions]

I need to make more Tower of Dawn posts because this book is better than I thought (and I went in with decent expectations)

but for right now I just need to cry scream for a second because THE CHARACTER ARCS AND DEVELOPMENT just perfection utterly beautiful and I love every single one so much I get all teared up every dang time

especially right now what’s getting me; which is Chaol finally understanding Aelin, and talking about her, and Rowan. And THEN with Yrene. AND THEN then their ship speech! AND AND AND THEN her talking about Aelin and not even knowing it & them both thanking her (they gonna help get our girl home I just know it and that reunion realization is gonna be so worth it) !

my wyrd how is ALL of this so beautifully written??

[destinedtobeloved]

Stephen buys books by the crate from the bookstore down the street. He reads them and memorizes things he learns. He calls his apartment his ‘dojo of light.’ He’s a man of belief. He watches the nature channel. He bonded with Jack instantly and will always help lil man out if he’s ever struggling with frying or boiling hotdogs ever again. He likes to cook and was sad when Linden didn’t try his eggs. He doesn’t go to narcotics anonymous meetings for no reason. He listens to them preach. He’ll always have a speech to try to get Sarah’s spirits up even if he’s crumbling too. If all fails, he can become a math teacher (not working security at the space needle.) He just wanted to be good at something. Football. Breakdancing. Now he’s a cop.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Over The Garden Wall but instead of Wirt and Greg it's Grant and Paeden that's it that's all I needed to say thank you

[thetimelordbatgirl]

With all the mystery around who Ruby is and who her mom is, I really, really hope it isn't actually the Trickster like others have been saying, because while yes it would be nice to see something from SJA appear in current DW, it also would just feel weird at this point as the Trickster was such a Sarah Jane villain that it just feels wrong to give him to the Doctor as an enemy just because Sarah Jane is gone.

[talonsandwings]

hey neil and craig great show um how do you expect me to just go to sleep tonight

[mx-yip-yip-hooary]

i am trapped in a eternal dilemma (i want to write a fic but also don't want to mess up the incredibly complex characterizations of the characters)

[gible-love-nibles-archive]

Hm ... 🌹 + 🌟 for whichever fellow feels like taking the floor!

~ librarian-lover 📖

“Ah. Another question? Ok, let's see—“

“Now hey there Cathal! What'chu been up to lately?”

“!!! M-Mr. Crow!”

“. What are you doing in my office—“

“Aw, I just had to talk with yer old man a bit 'bout somethin' er other. Wanted to stop by 'n' say hey! Yer gettin' so big now!”

“…Mr. Crow, aren't you, um… isn't there a Toon who keeps coming by your building?”

“Ah. You mean that reindeer who just won't get out of my hat!?”

“Yes. Ms. Darla, right?”

“Right as rain.”

“Well, um… how did you two first meet?”

🌟 - Describe how you met.

“Just how every one of those critters meets me: storms my building and throws pies at my head! But Ms. Petaltail… ooo, she was a crafty one. She had come a few times before, but then she did something I would've never expected.”

“I made a joke to those Toons that I would only be friends with them if they gave me the deed to their estate. 'Well, I got the deed right here, Mr. Architect,' said Ms. Petaltail. 'You can sign right here if you'd like.'”

“Hoooo-whee, was I jumpin' off the walls with that! So much so that… I didn't read the fine print. Stupid of me, I know.”

“But now you own Ms. Darla's property?”

“Not quite. I own her land… 2 square inches of it. She can't do anything to it without my permission. Seems Ms. Petaltail knows her land laws better than I thought.”

(Second question below because this ask is getting long)

🌹 - What’s your love language? What is theirs?

“Now you know me Cathal: I believe in Southern hospitality above all else. I'm a right proper gentleman!”

“You do send a lot of food over from your district.”

“So if you ever see that Ms. Darla come into your office, don't believe anything she says, y'hear?! That reindeer's the sweetest talker I've ever met!”

[weirdbabs]

i just realized they got rid of the line where joel tells ellie that he had sarah when he was pretty young

[aerialmirrorss]

𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐞 by sza 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! a kickback on the beach involving both kooks and pogues turns ugly after rafe sees jj maybank talking sweetly in your ear..

paring: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: friends? with benefits , angst , mentions of underage drinking , violence (fist fighting) , toxic!rafe , sexual content + rough unprotected car sex! , choking , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 6.7k

notes: thinking about making this into a series but it just depends on how we all like it so lmk!

chapter two: 𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

chapter three: 𝐜 𝐚 𝐬 𝐮 𝐚 𝐥 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

“you’re a fucking idiot,” kie says through a burst of laughter, watching jj attempt to shotgun two beers at once. instead of drinking, most of the beer spills straight onto the sand, leaving him grinning like it was all part of the plan.

a soft giggle slips past your lips as jj smashes the crushed cans together dramatically, then thumps his chest like he just pulled off something incredible—even though he couldn’t have failed more miserably.

you shake your head, pointing at the two crushed cans lying in the sand. “don’t give him any more if he’s gonna pull shit like that!” you say, half-serious, half-amused.

jj’s grin fades into a mock frown, his brows furrowing as he throws his hands up dramatically. “what? i was just getting started!” he protests, though the beer-soaked sand beneath him says otherwise.

you roll your eyes, ready to fire back at jj, when the vibration of your phone in your hand distracts you. the name on the screen makes your stomach flip, and you bite down on your bottom lip, fighting to keep a smile from slipping out where your friends could see.

kook devil: wya?

you: beach kickback on the cut

kook devil: omw

this time, the smile wins. you glance down at the screen, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite yourself. it wasn’t the first time rafe cameron had texted you late at night, asking where you were. but no one else knew that. and you weren’t about to admit it to anyone—especially not to your friends.

friends who hated kooks with a passion. and everything, and everyone, that came with them.

“what are you smiling at?” sarah asks, her voice light but laced with curiosity, as she and john b stroll over, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. her amused grin only makes you more nervous.

you lock your phone instantly, still smiling but scrambling for an excuse. “my package just got delivered,” you say quickly, trying to sound nonchalant.

sarah hums in response, the suspicion in her tone subtle but enough to make your stomach tighten. you don’t notice, too busy avoiding eye contact and silently thanking the chaos that erupts when jj and pope start arguing about something ridiculous, as usual.

you knew what you were doing was wrong. so wrong, especially to sarah. if she ever found out you and rafe were hooking up behind everyone’s backs, she’d lose it. they all would. and not just because he’s a kook.

it’s because he’s rafe fucking cameron.

it was kind of a blur how it all started with rafe. you remember being at a party—not sure if it was here on the beach or in figure 8—but of course, he was there, lingering in the crowd. all night, his eyes kept finding yours, holding your gaze just a little too long.

a couple of tequila shots later, you found yourself in his truck, attempting to ride him as he fucked you senseless, leaving you a trembling mess of moans and breathless curses.

ever since that night, you’d fallen into a rhythm—friends with benefits, if you could even call it that. except you weren’t friends. not even close.

you and rafe both knew the deal—just sex, no strings attached. it was made clear the second time you hooked up. after somehow getting your number, rafe texted you at 1 a.m. asking to meet. if it had been anyone else, you would’ve said no without a second thought. but rafe cameron always gets what he wants.

afterward, it was rafe who spelled it out: just sex, nothing more. and you agreed, even though the words stung more than you cared to admit. you told yourself you were fine with it, hoping that maybe, just maybe, if you played along long enough, he’d change his mind.

except he hasn’t.

and what really reeled you in was just the other day, you spotted him on the golf course with stacy thornton, topper’s cousin of all people. and of course he knew you’d see him—you work the country club as a bev girl. how could you not?

still, you swallowed the lump in your throat, pretending not to care even as your chest tightened. you quietly asked a coworker to handle his table, murmuring something about being swamped, and then buried yourself in busywork to avoid the sting of watching him laugh with her.

since that day, he hasn’t called or texted. not a word. until tonight.

because surely, stacy was busy.

“yo, y/n! come shotgun a beer with us!” kie and sarah call out, snapping you out of your thoughts. you force a small smile, pushing everything about rafe to the back of your mind as you stand up from the driftwood branch you’d been perched on. joining your girls, you grab a beer and do your best to play along.

as the night rolls on, the beach fills up with more people—kooks, pogues, and everyone in between. the music gets louder, and the air becomes a chaotic mix of laughter, shouting, and waves crashing in the background. drunk teenagers stagger through the sand, passing bottles and shots around, but so far, there haven’t been any issues. yet.

but you know how these nights go. when kooks and pogues show up to the same party, trouble is inevitable. it’s only a matter of time before someone says or does something to spark it. like clockwork.

bright headlights pierce through the darkness, momentarily blinding you as a familiar truck pulls onto the beach. your stomach tightens at the sight, but you force yourself to stay calm, laughing along with your friends as if you hadn’t noticed. even as the kooks around you start murmuring and shouting, announcing rafe’s arrival, you keep your eyes anywhere but on him.

your gaze flicks to sarah, catching the way her jaw tightens when she sees her older brother greeting her old friends with effortless charm. the tension is palpable. it’s no secret that sarah and rafe are far from good terms, and the thought of what she’d do if she ever found out about you and him is enough to make your chest ache. she’d hate you—no question about it.

and you didn’t want that. not now, not ever. so tonight, with enough liquid courage coursing through your veins, you’d finally do it. you’d end whatever this thing was with rafe. it was time. it had to be.

“hey, sweetheart,” jj slurs, suddenly draping an arm over your shoulders, his familiar, lopsided grin plastered across his face. the smell of alcohol lingers on his breath, and you can’t help but laugh. drunk jj was always clingy and affectionate, a far cry from his usual chaotic self.

“how are you? you good?” he asks, his voice softer than usual, his blue eyes lazily scanning your face for any hint of something wrong.

you nod, patting his knee where it rests against yours. “i’m fine, jay. what about you? having fun?”

he grins wider, squeezing your shoulder as if to reassure you. “always. especially now that you’re here.” his words are lighthearted, but his presence, warm and grounding, makes the knot in your stomach ease just a little.

“don’t start something you can’t finish, maybank,” you tease, your tone playful, something that’s always been a part of your dynamic with jj. it was harmless, never anything more than friendly banter. jj was like a brother to you, and you both knew it.

his smirk widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “oh, i always finish what i start,” he shoots back, his voice dripping with mock confidence. the comment makes heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself, and you nudge his side with a laugh.

“relax, jj,” you say, still grinning, but he just laughs along with you, clearly enjoying your reaction.

then his tone drops, more conspiratorial now, as he leans in closer. “can i tell you a secret?” he slurs, his voice low and exaggeratedly serious.

you play along, tilting your head toward him as he cups a hand over his mouth like he’s sharing classified information. “i’m so drunk right now,” he whispers dramatically.

a laugh bursts out of you, louder than you intended, as you push him off of you. “no shit, jay,” you say through your giggles, watching him sway slightly before laughing along with you. moments like these made everything feel lighter, even with the weight of everything else hanging in the air.

suddenly, the laughter dies in your throat as a familiar voice cuts through the noise, instantly tightening the tension in your shoulders. “i wanna laugh too,” rafe drawls, his tone sharp and laced with something dangerous.

your head snaps up, and sure enough, there he is, standing a few feet away with his hands casually stuffed into his pockets. but his stare is locked on you, unwavering, intense. your stomach churns as you quickly look away, pretending not to notice.

“what are you doing here, rafe?” sarah asks, her voice cold as ice, glaring at her brother like she wanted him gone before he could stir up trouble.

he shrugs nonchalantly, though the slight clench in his jaw betrays his calm demeanor. “well, last time i checked, you don’t own the beach, sarah,” he retorts, his tone sharp enough to cut. the sunset casts a fiery glow on his face, highlighting the tension in his features. he’s angry—at what, you don’t know, but it’s obvious.

sarah opens her mouth to snap back, but before she can, jj suddenly stands to his feet, his drunken bravado kicking in full force. “what’s your problem, man?” he slurs, his voice rising as he steps forward, shoulders squared like he’s ready to fight.

your heart pounds in your chest as the energy shifts sharply, the tension coiling tighter with every second. it’s like the whole beach can feel it, the calm before the inevitable storm. you glance around nervously, noticing the kooks starting to make their way over, drawn by the brewing conflict like moths to a flame.

what had been your comfortable little corner with your friends now feels suffocating as more and more people gather, the divide between kooks and pogues growing thicker with every step they take. rafe doesn’t move, his stance unbothered but his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they dart between jj and you.

you can hear your friends muttering behind you, tension spreading like wildfire. this wasn’t going to end well—you could feel it in your bones.

john b, ever the peacekeeper, steps in with a steady hand on jj’s shoulder, giving it a calming squeeze. “hey, bro, take a walk,” he says softly, his tone measured, trying to de-escalate before things spiral further.

but jj shakes his head, his expression twisting with frustration. “nah, nah, nah,” he says, shrugging john b’s hand off. his voice is louder now, sharp and angry, fueled by alcohol and pent-up resentment. “i’m so tired of these fuck-ass kooks ruining our fun. everything was fine before they got here.”

he turns to rafe, his eyes blazing with defiance. “so answer the damn question, rafe. what the fuck is your problem?”

the words hang in the air, cutting through the murmur of onlookers as more kooks and pogues close in around you, their postures rigid and ready for whatever’s about to unfold. the tension is suffocating, thick enough to choke on. your stomach twists as you glance between jj, who’s practically vibrating with anger, and rafe, whose jaw is locked, his eyes dark and unreadable.

rafe suddenly lets out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. he swipes a finger under his nose, his signature tell that trouble is coming. before anyone can react, he steps forward and throws a punch, his fist connecting squarely with jj’s jaw.

the sound of the hit echoes over the beach, silencing the chatter and gasps from the growing crowd. jj stumbles back, catching himself before falling, his hand flying up to his face as he spits blood into the sand.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” john b mutters, stepping between them instinctively, trying to keep jj from lunging forward. but jj’s already shaking with rage, shoving john b aside as the crowd erupts around you.

the once calm beach party turns chaotic, the tension finally snapping into chaos, and you’re frozen in the middle of it all, unsure of what to do as your heart pounds in your chest.

mayhem erupts around you as everyone starts shouting, the noise almost deafening. jj and rafe are swinging at each other, fists flying with raw anger. john b and topper try to break it up, but their own simmering tensions (sarah cameron) boil over, and soon enough, they’re throwing punches at each other too.

“alright! alright!” you, sarah, and kie yell, your voices cutting through the chaos as you rush in, desperately trying to pull the four boys apart. it’s a mess of flailing arms, insults, and drunken fury, but with the help of the other pogues and even a few kooks who seem equally tired of the drama, you finally manage to separate them.

jj stands a few feet away now, chest heaving as he wipes blood from his lip, glaring daggers at rafe. rafe, meanwhile, is being restrained by two kooks, his jaw tight and his eyes locked on jj like he’s ready to go again at any second. john b and topper aren’t much better, breathing heavily and throwing venomous insults back and forth as they’re held apart.

you step back, your heart still racing as the crowd buzzes with murmurs and tension, the air thick and electric. this was far from over, and you could feel it.

“yeah, stay the fuck off our side of the island!” jj yells, his voice sharp and unwavering as the kooks start retreating. rafe lingers, of course, making direct eye contact with you. his gaze burns, but you glare right back, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. whatever you needed to say to him was definitely happening tonight after the shit he just pulled.

“take jj to the chateau. i think there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” john b instructs kie and pope, his tone calm but firm. they nod, each grabbing one of jj’s arms to help guide him away. jj, still riled up, mutters under his breath about how much of a pussy rafe is, his words slurring slightly from the drinks and adrenaline.

sarah walks over to you, concern etched across her face. “hey, you okay?” she asks gently. her voice is soft, but the sincerity in her eyes almost undoes you. you nod quickly, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over.

“yeah, i’m fine. just anxious,” you respond, your voice steady enough to sound convincing. it’s not entirely a lie, but it’s far from the whole truth. sarah offers you a small, understanding smile, her hand rubbing your arm soothingly.

“coming?” she asks, gesturing toward john b, who’s waiting for her a few feet away.

“i think i’m just gonna head home,” you say, your voice a little rushed. “my mom texted—she got off work early, so…” you let the excuse hang in the air, hoping it’s enough.

sarah nods slowly, her eyes flickering with a mix of understanding and suspicion. “john b and i can walk you,” she offers.

“no, it’s okay. i kinda need a moment,” you reply quickly, your voice firmer this time. you hold your breath as her gaze lingers on you, studying you for a beat too long. but thankfully, she doesn’t press it.

“okay, babe,” she says finally, her concern softening into a warm smile. “let me know when you get home, yeah?”

you nod, watching as she walks back toward john b, the two of them eventually disappearing into the growing shadows. only when they’re far enough away do you exhale, the weight of the night pressing heavy on your chest.

with one last glance at the party starting to settle back down, you turn and walk in the opposite direction, knowing exactly where you’re going—and who you’re going to face.

you make your way over to the truck, its headlights dim now but still parked exactly where he left it. crossing your arms over your chest, you lean against the back door of the truck, waiting. it’s quiet here, tucked away from the rest of the beach where no one can see you.

the sound of approaching footsteps pulls your attention, and there he is. rafe cameron, calm and collected as ever, despite the chaos he caused. he’s holding a red solo cup against his cheekbone, the faintest shadow of a bruise forming. but even so, you have to admit—he doesn’t look nearly as bad as jj does. of course he doesn’t.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you say anything. the tension between you is thicker than ever, the air heavy with unspoken words. you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you came here to do.

“i can’t see you anymore, rafe,” you say, finally breaking the silence. your voice is firm, but you can feel the ache behind the words, threatening to betray you.

rafe doesn’t move. instead, a small, almost smug smile quirks at the corner of his lips. “get in the truck,” he says, his tone low and even, like it’s not up for debate.

your brows knit together, your frustration bubbling up. did he not hear you? or worse, did he just not care? “no, rafe,” you snap, shaking your head. “what you did today—” you pause, letting out a sharp sigh as the memories replay in your mind. your gaze shifts over his shoulder to the road, watching cars pass by, their headlights a welcome distraction. “you hurt my friends,” you continue, your voice quieter now but still steady. “i care a lot about my friends. and that shit you pulled back there?” you point toward the spot on the beach where the chaos unfolded, the tension still lingering in the air. “wasn’t cool.”

rafe follows your gesture with a glance, his expression unreadable. but when his eyes flick back to you, there’s something in them—something dangerous, something unshaken. he doesn’t respond, just waits, like he knows you’re not finished yet.

“why would you do that?” your voice cracks despite your best effort to keep it steady. the words hang heavy in the air, and you curse softly under your breath, furious with yourself for letting your emotions bubble over. you promised you wouldn’t let him see you like this—wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. but now, the tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill.

rafe’s face doesn’t change, his jaw tight but his expression otherwise calm, almost detached. it’s like he’s weighing his words, deciding what to say—or if he’ll even bother answering at all. the silence feels suffocating, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on your chest.

“are you fucking him?” rafe finally speaks, his voice low and steady, but the accusation behind the words hits you like a slap. you stare at him, wide-eyed, like he’s just grown three heads.

a laugh of disbelief escapes you as you shake your head, running a hand through your hair to keep yourself from losing it. “are you serious right now?” you ask, your voice teetering between anger and shock.

“are you?” he presses, his tone sharper this time, his eyes locked on yours, unrelenting.

“oh my god,” you mutter, another laugh bubbling out, this one laced with frustration. “is that why you did that? you think i’ve been fucking one of my best friends? are you shitting me, rafe?” you shake your head again, the absurdity of the accusation almost too much to handle.

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, his gaze still burning into yours like he’s waiting for you to crack. but you don’t—at least, not yet.

“well, since we’re just accusing each other of shit now,” you say, your voice sharp as a knife, “how’s stacy doing?” your eyes flicker between his, and just like you predicted, his confidence falters. there’s a moment—a flicker—where his gaze drops, and you pounce. “i assume she was busy tonight, right? that why you texted me?”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” rafe snaps, his chest rising and falling heavily as he steps closer, his frustration spilling over.

“oh, don’t give me that shit, rafe,” you fire back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. your eyes dart away from his, landing anywhere but on him. “i saw you at the country club,” you continue, your voice cold, the memory still fresh.

his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything, and the silence only fuels your anger. “and even then,” you add, spinning back to face him, your words cutting like glass, “what if i am fucking jj? what is it to you? you’re the one who said no strings attached, right?”

you see the way his nostrils flare, his jaw clenching so tightly you think it might snap. his eyes darken, and you know exactly what he’s thinking—the thought of jj seeing you the way rafe has, touching you, hearing the sounds you make. it’s killing him. but he won’t say it. not out loud.

“you’re mad, rafe,” you say, your voice quieter now but still firm. “but you don’t get to be. not after the rules you set.”

you push past him, deciding you were done—done with the accusations, the games, all of it. but, of course, you don’t get far. rafe’s hand closes firmly around your wrist, yanking you back toward him with enough force that you stumble. before you can steady yourself, you collide with his chest, the hard press of muscle against you taking your breath away.

his lips crash against yours without warning, rough and demanding, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips. the intensity of it sends a jolt through you, but it’s not enough to freeze you in place. your fists fly up, pushing hard against his chest, trying to shove him off.

“rafe,” you manage, your voice muffled against his lips, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you. instead, your resistance only seems to fuel him, his free hand sliding up to wrap around your neck, not too tight, but firm enough to hold you there.

his lips move hungrily against yours, his breath hot, his grip unwavering. you can feel the frustration, the anger, and something else tangled in the way he kisses you—something you can’t name, something overwhelming. your heart races, torn between wanting to fight and the way your body reacts instinctively to his touch.

you hated it. hated how easily your body betrayed you, handing itself over to him without a second thought. and the worst part? rafe knew it too. he always did.

he used it to his advantage every time, just like now. the second your resistance began to falter, the tension in your fists loosening as your body instinctively softened against his, that familiar smug smile tugged at the corners of his lips. he could feel it—the way your resolve was slipping, the way the pull between you was overtaking every logical thought in your mind.

the familiarity of him started to seep through, clouding the anger that had burned so brightly just moments ago. rafe’s grip on your neck relaxed slightly, his fingers brushing your skin like he had all the time in the world, as if he wasn’t the reason you’d wanted to end this in the first place.

and god, you hated him for it. but you hated yourself even more. no matter how much you told yourself to walk away, to end it, your body always seemed to betray you the moment his hands were on you.

before you even realized what was happening, you were in the back seat of rafe’s truck, straddling his lap. his hands gripped your hips with bruising force, guiding your movements as you instinctively rolled against him. the friction of his hardened, clothed cock pressing against you sent shivers up your spine, a traitorous whimper slipping past your lips.

his breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he let out a low groan of satisfaction. you hated how easily he got to you, how the anger you felt just moments ago melted into something entirely different. but no matter how much you wanted to stop, your body moved on its own, craving the familiarity of him, the intensity only he could give you.

his hands move from gripping your hips to trailing up your back, his fingers deftly finding the string of your bikini top. with a quick tug, the knot unravels, and the fabric falls between you, exposing your chest to the cool night air. the intimate sound of your breathing mixes with the muffled noise of the distant beach party, but all you can focus on is him.

rafe wastes no time, leaning in to pepper kisses across your chest. each press of his lips ignites a trail of goosebumps on your skin, the sensation making you arch closer to him. his mouth finds one of your hardened nipples, pulling it into his mouth as his hand cups the other, his fingers teasing and rolling with practiced precision.

a moan slips from your lips, filling the still air around you. rafe hums in satisfaction, his hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin. his grip on you tightens as he continues, clearly intent on drawing every reaction out of you that he can.

“fuck, i missed you,” he breathes, his voice low and ragged as he pulls back just enough to let the words slip past his lips. before you can even process them, his mouth is back on you, his lips and tongue working their way across your skin, pulling a broken whimper from your throat.

you shake your head weakly, your fingers gripping his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. “no, you didn’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling, the words more of a desperate plea than an accusation.

rafe pauses, his lips hovering over your collarbone. his hands tighten their hold on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he meets your gaze, his blue eyes blown out. “yes, i did,” he mutters, his tone firm, almost defensive, before dipping his head back down to kiss you again, as if he could erase the doubt you so clearly feel.

with one hand, he makes quick work of the button on your shorts, pulling them down just enough to give himself better access. his hand slips past the waistband of your bikini bottoms, his fingers brushing against your heated skin. the low groan that escapes his lips when he feels how soaked you are sends a jolt of heat straight through you.

“not surprising,” he mutters against your lips, his voice thick with smug satisfaction.

you gasp, your head falling back slightly as his fingers glide through your folds, gathering your arousal before starting slow, deliberate circles against your clit. the sensation sparks through you, making your hips instinctively rock against his hand, chasing the friction.

rafe’s smirk deepens as he watches you, his free hand gripping your waist tighter to keep you steady. “that’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, dripping with control. “just like that.”

a moan escapes your lips when his fingers pick up their pace, his breathing becoming heavier against your neck. “think that pogue could get you to cum like i can, huh?” he taunts, his words cutting through the haze of pleasure. before you can respond, his fingers dip into your entrance, filling you to where you feel the cold metal ring wrapped around his finger, while his thumb presses firmly against your clit. the double stimulation sends a shockwave through you, your hands fisting his shirt as you struggle to stifle the moans threatening to spill out.

you bite down hard on your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction he craves, but it’s so hard—he knows your body too well.

“i know he can,” you finally manage to retort, your voice breathless but defiant. the second the words leave your mouth, you see it—the flicker of rage that darkens his eyes. his movements grow rougher, more deliberate, as if he’s determined to make you eat your words.

you sob out a moan, your body trembling as his pace remains relentless, refusing to give you even a second to catch your breath. “the fuck he can,” he growls, his voice low and feral, watching with a smug satisfaction as you struggle to keep yourself upright. his smirk deepens as he leans in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and desperation, swallowing your broken cries.

your hands cling to his shoulders as waves of pleasure crash through you, your body arching into his touch. his fingers work you expertly, his movements precise and unyielding as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

“c’mon, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and dripping with desperation. “let me hear you.” his words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel yourself teetering on the brink, unable to hold back any longer.

you feel yourself start to convulse around his fingers, your body trembling as a broken cry tears from your lips. the waves of your orgasm crash over you, leaving you breathless and weak. rafe keeps going, his fingers guiding you through every pulse of pleasure, not stopping until your body begins to twitch with hints of overstimulation. but there’s no tenderness in it—not that you deserved any, not after what you said.

your earlier comment still burned in his mind, fueling a fire in his chest, the thought of you with jj maybank making him see red. it wasn’t about trust—it was about possession, and rafe couldn’t stand the idea of someone else touching what he considered his.

without warning, he grabs your waist and flips you around, pressing your head against the leather seat, your ass in the air. your shorts and bikini bottoms are gone in one swift motion, leaving you completely exposed. you barely have time to react before you hear the sound of his zipper, his own clothes hitting the floor of the truck in a mess.

“you wanna talk about jj?” he growls, his voice low and dripping with frustration as he positions himself at your entrance, the heat of him pressing against you. “let’s see if you’re still thinking about him when I’m done with you.”

before you can process his words, he thrusts into you without warning, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, punishing motion. the stretch is overwhelming, a cry slipping from your lips, quickly muffled as you press your face into the seat.

rafe doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, setting a relentless, eye-rolling pace that has your body jolting with every thrust. his hands grip your waist tightly, pulling you back to meet each snap of his hips, his frustration evident in the way he moves.

“you feel that?” he mutters, his voice rough and breathless as he leans over you, his chest grazing your back. “that’s all me. no one else, you hear me?” his words mix with the sound of skin against skin, every syllable driving him deeper, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

you nod dumbly, unable to form words as your body reacts to his every movement. a gasp tears from your lips when his arm snakes around your neck, pulling you upright slightly and holding you firmly in place. the pressure makes your head spin, amplifying every sensation coursing through your body.

the truck fills with the obscene sounds of wet slaps and desperate moans, each one louder than the last. your cries mix with rafe’s rough groans, the intensity between you reaching a fever pitch. you briefly thank your lucky stars that his truck has fully blacked-out windows, shielding this mess of tangled limbs and raw need from prying eyes.

rafe moans in your ear, his voice thick with possession, his breath hot against your skin. “all mine. no one else gets to have you like this.” his pace never falters, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge again, leaving you gasping and trembling under his control.

just when you think the pleasure is close to consuming you whole, rafe’s fingers snake down between your thighs, finding your clit with infuriating precision. he rubs quick, tight circles, the added sensation pulling a choked cry from your lips as your body jerks in response.

your arm flings back instinctively, your hand finding the back of his neck, clutching onto him desperately as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright. his breath is hot against your ear, ragged and uneven, matching the force of his thrusts.

“fuck, baby,” he groans softly, his voice laced with satisfaction as he feels you trembling against him. “you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

“rafe—“ you moan, your grip on his neck tightening as the overwhelming mix of sensations sends you spiraling, your body teetering on the brink. every snap of his hips, every movement of his fingers, pushes you closer, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you fight to keep from collapsing back into the seat.

your body trembles uncontrollably as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, your walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip. rafe grunts, his breath ragged and uneven as he feels you squeezing him, the sensation tipping him over the edge.

“shit,” he moans, his voice low and strained, giving one last stuttered thrust before he stills, his release spilling into you. the warmth of him floods your core, the weight of his body pressing against yours as he rides out his high, panting heavily into the crook of your neck.

the air in the truck is thick, the only sounds now the mingling of your heavy breathing and the faint hum of the world outside—so distant it feels like it doesn’t even exist. rafe’s hand loosens its hold on your hip along with the arm around your neck, his thumb lazily brushing your skin as he finally starts to come down.

rafe’s forehead, damp with sweat, rests against your shoulder for a moment as he catches his breath. Slowly, he pulls out of you, leaving you trembling and weak-kneed. Sensing it, he carefully guides you to sit on the seat, his touch surprisingly gentle now, as if trying not to shatter the fragile silence between you.

but it doesn’t last long. the haze starts to lift, post-sex clarity hitting you like a wave. your heart pounds—not from pleasure anymore, but from the weight of everything that just happened. you don’t look at him, don’t say a word. instead, you scramble off the seat, your eyes scanning the floor of the truck as you rush to gather your clothes. the humid air clings to your skin, suffocating you, making it feel like the walls of the truck are closing in.

“y/n,” rafe starts, his voice softer now, but you don’t respond, just shake your head. You tug your shorts on with shaky hands, your bikini top still tangled in your grasp as you turn your back to him, your only thought being how fast you can get out of this damn truck.

as soon as you adjust your bikini top, you’re scrambling for the door handle, slipping out of the truck as quickly as you can. the door slams shut behind you with a loud thud, cutting off the heavy silence inside. rafe’s voice calls after you, his tone somewhere between frustration and confusion, but you don’t look back. you don’t even slow down.

his words echo faintly in the humid night air as you trudge across the sand, but you block them out, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you hated yourself in this moment—really hated yourself. how could you be so weak? jj was probably back at the chateau right now, an ice pack pressed to his bruised face, joking it off like he always did. meanwhile, you were here, tangled up with the very person responsible for putting him there.

it made your stomach twist. you felt pathetic.

the guilt gnawed at you, making every step away from that truck feel heavier, like you were sinking further into something you didn’t know how to escape. you wrap your arms around yourself, the night air cold against your skin, and silently vow—never again.

as you step into your home, the soft glow of the television catches your eye. your mom is asleep on the couch, the faint sound of some late-night show playing in the background. you pause, the sight of her peaceful face tugging at something inside you. quietly, you grab the nearest blanket and drape it over her, tucking it gently around her frame before turning off the TV.

you make your way to your room, your body heavy with exhaustion. pulling out your phone, the screen lights up with countless missed calls and texts—all from him. rafe’s name stares back at you, the words call me back and where did you go? flashing among the messages. with a sigh, you open the contact and quickly silence his notifications. blocking him would feel too final, too harsh, and you know it wouldn’t stop him anyway. rafe knew where to find you—where you lived, where you spent your time, even your favorite food spot. blocking him would only provoke him further.

you drop your phone on the bed and head straight for the bathroom, turning the shower dial as cold as it would go. the icy water hits your skin like needles, but you welcome it, hoping it’ll wash away everything—his touch, his words, the feeling of his hands on your body.

but no matter how long you stand there, no matter how hard you scrub, the memories resurface, unrelenting. the way he looked at you. the sound of his voice. the pull he always had on you. you press your forehead against the cool tile, biting back the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

how did it get this far?

the muffled vibration of your phone stirs you from sleep, the name sarah 🐚 lighting up the screen. groaning, you fumble for the phone and press it to your ear, voice still thick with sleep. “hell—”

“is it true?” sarah’s voice crackles through the static, sharp and tense, jolting you fully awake. your eyes shoot open, the confusion and dread hitting you all at once.

“sarah, what—” you begin, but she doesn’t let you finish.

“got it,” she says curtly, and before you can protest, the line goes dead.

you pull the phone away from your ear, staring at the dark screen as if it could offer you answers. confusion twists in your chest, but then you see it—a new message notification from her.

your hands tremble slightly as you unlock your phone and click the message. the screen shifts to a video file, sent from an anonymous number. you hesitate, the dread creeping up your spine like ice, but you press play.

the blood drains from your face as the video begins. it’s you—you and rafe. the footage is grainy, but it’s unmistakable. you see yourself pressed against the back door of his truck, his hands gripping you as you melt into the heated kiss. the angle shifts slightly, shaky and invasive, capturing the moment he pushes you inside the truck. and then—cut.

the video ends abruptly, leaving you staring at the black screen, your heart racing so hard you can feel it in your throat. you drop the phone onto your bed, your blood running cold as the weight of it crashes over you.

someone had seen. someone knew. and now sarah did too.

© aerialmirrorss

[agxxb]

Prettier Than a Star .𖥔 ݁ ˖

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: when rafe finds you alone, you finally get to know one another.

warnings: smut. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (f!receiving). use of pet names (baby, sweetheart). praise. underage drinking. best friend’s brother. [5k]

read part two here!

“You’re not supposed to be out here. It’s off-limits to guests.” You turned around in surprise upon hearing a new voice, only relaxing after seeing the familiar face. “Ah, it’s just you.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side, surprised to see you standing on one of Tanneyhill’s many balconies — but it was a pleasant surprise. He didn’t smile, but his expression softened just a little.

“Sorry, Rafe,” you apologised, a small yet sheepish smile on your face. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you, let alone your friend’s older brother. You just wanted peace and quiet away from the jamboree happening below.

Rafe walked over with a hand in his jeans’ pocket, the other holding a beer. He turned and leaned against the rails beside you. “Didn’t expect to see you at my party.”

“Sarah invited me,” you explained, a short shrug following as you took a deep breath through your nose. “She kinda left me alone as soon as she saw her boyfriend, and I got overwhelmed with the party. This was the only place I knew no one would be.”

Rafe chuckled lightly. “Sounds like Sarah.” He shook his head. He couldn’t lie and say he was surprised Sarah had ditched you. “What? Can’t handle a little party?” he asked, clearly teasing you.

“I can.” You shot him a look, but still grinned. “Just not when people I don’t know are shoving unknown drinks into my face.”

He smirked, taking a quick swig of beer from the bottle. “Hey, those are the best kind of drinks. Free alcohol is good alcohol.” He glanced over at you as he spoke. “You should’ve just come found me when Sarah ditched you.”

“Free drinks are the best, but not when there’s a possibility of them being spiked,” You gave him another small smile before shrugging. “And, in all honesty, I didn’t even think you liked me enough to talk to me. You’ve only ever spoken to me when Sarah’s been there.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered, and his expression softened ever-so-slightly. “Why wouldn’t I like you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side again, looking at you. “You’re one of the few people that Sarah hangs out with that I don’t want to throw into a wall the moment I see them,” he added, giving a scoff of a laugh.

You smiled at Rafe’s words, letting out a short chuckle. He kept his gaze on you for a moment more, something almost thoughtful crossing his face before he looked out to the front grounds of the house.

The night sky was vast, the stars glimmering above. The sea breeze was cool and fresh against your skin, and the sounds from the party down below were just low enough to be a distant rumble. It was nice and peaceful.

“I’ve always adored the island,” you said after a short while of silence, following his eye-line to admire the view: the sea in the far back, the beautiful sunset just above the sea line, and the houses in the close distance.

Rafe looked away from the view, to you, listening to you. He’d never really paid much attention to how beautiful the island really was. The night was nice, though; even he could admit that. He thought about making a snide comment about the view – that it’d be prettier with a joint or drug to enhance it – but didn’t. Instead, he just nodded.

“It is nice,” he agreed, taking another swig of the beer in his hand.

He turned to lean against the railing once more, his side now facing you. He raised the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back as he took a healthy sip, enjoying the taste of it. It went quiet again, and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He watched as you kept your gaze on the sky, and you looked almost mesmerised.

It was almost like you were in a trance, the way you just watched the stars above. The sight was honestly rather fascinating to Rafe; He’d never seen anyone just stare into space. He continued to watch you though, and found himself almost studying how captivated you were by the stars, like there was some sort of peace in that moment.

“You like the stars?” Rafe heard himself ask, his voice low and casual as he looked upwards as well.

“Oh, I adore them…” Your eyes twinkled whilst the stars blinked. You smiled, a small one, but it was filled with admiration and fascination.

Rafe listened intently, watching as the soft smile appeared on your face, and he found himself feeling a sense of curiosity. “Why?”

“Because it’s all unknown. It’s scary, but also so cool.”

Rafe hummed lowly, and he found he actually agreed a bit with what you said. The stars and sky were definitely a little scary, but the unknown always was. And yet, it was interesting, too.

He went silent for a few moments, the alcohol in his system making him more relaxed and a bit less guarded. He felt more open, like he could say things he wouldn’t normally say, and that was why he spoke again after a moment of silence. “Want some?”

You looked over at Rafe, seeing him tilting his beer in your direction. You accepted his offer with a smile, taking the glass bottle from his hold and bringing it up to your mouth, wrapping your lips around the top and tilting your head back.

Rafe watched your actions, licking his lips as his thoughts spiralled. He found his eyes trailing over your face, lingering on your eyes, and then your lips, which looked soft and full. The alcohol he had consumed had made his thoughts fuzzy, and he suddenly found himself imagining something else instead of the beer bottle.

The thoughts of how you looked and the soft tone of your voice made his mind wander, imagining what sounds you might make in other situations.

"What’re you doing?" you teased, biting your bottom lip and moving slightly closer to Rafe. You had noticed him staring, scanning your body and – possibly –admiring you.

Rafe knew he had been caught looking at you, and he didn't even know what to say when you moved closer. He tried to keep his composure, though he found his eyes straying once more as he noticed a glimpse of your collarbone.

"I'm enjoying the view.”

"Yeah?" You lightly blushed, cheeks turning a pink champagne, and smiled up at him. "Enjoying it, hm?"

Rafe was captivated as you smiled at him, and his breath hitched as he watched you take another sip of his beer. It was more than a little attractive, and he found his thoughts getting muddled again, his mind wandering to places it had no business going.

"Yeah," he answered simply, his voice coming out deep and rough as he shrugged.

He tried to look away, but he found himself looking at you again, eyes drifting from your collarbone and over the swell of your chest. He knew he was being obvious with his staring, but he couldn't help it. He found himself admiring you, the soft curves and slopes of your body, the shape of your hips. Even though you were still standing a few inches apart, he was suddenly aware of how close you were, and he wanted you to be closer.

“Just admiring?” you wondered aloud, almost hinting at the fact you wanted him to do more.

Rafe briefly wondered what would happen if he reached out and touched you, to feel his hands on your skin. It would probably be so soft, he bet. He could smell the sweet scent of your perfume, and it was like an invitation to him.

His eyes flicked back up to your lips when you bit your bottom one, and he found himself wondering what they would feel like against his own. He took a step forward, his boots thudding against the balcony floor, and reached out, his fingers hovering a few inches away from your skin, the tips of his fingers just barely touching your cheek.

Rafe slowly lowered his hand until it connected, gently resting his palm against the soft skin of your cheek. He gently caressed your skin, feeling the softness underneath his fingers as he stroked your cheek. He felt emboldened, and the alcohol in his system made him a more reckless.

“Your hand's warm," you told him, resting your cheek into his palm. You were aware of Rafe's history and his anger issues, but you weren’t scared of him... especially after the way he'd treated you that night. Rafe hummed in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the way his heart flipped at how you leaned into his touch.

He wanted this, wanted to touch you, and he wanted more than that, too... so much more.

"You're soft," Rafe mumbled, his voice rougher than usual, and he let his thumb gently brush against your jawline.

"I am?" you asked, almost shy after hearing him say you were soft. He hummed in response once again, unable to stop himself from gently rubbing his thumb along your skin, slowly, over and over again.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice still sounding rough, and his thumb started to travel down the slope of your neck. "Soft everywhere."

“You haven’t even touched me everywhere.”

Rafe’s eyes snapped up to yours, trying to see if there were any hints of intoxication behind your words. He let his fingers press gently against the underside of your chin, just barely lifting it.

"You like when I touch you?" he asked quietly, the words just slipping from his mouth. You hummed a response, agreeing to his question silently, and a rush of heat flowed through him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The way you almost begged for a kiss made his lips twitch up. His hand slowly moved to the back of your neck as he gently pulled you forward, tilting your chin up. He looked into your eyes as his face hovered close to yours, wanting to make sure you really wanted this. His breath fanned over your face, and he slowly closed the remaining gap to press his lips against yours.

Rafe let himself just hold his lips against yours for a second, just the briefest moment, before he really kissed you. His lips moved against yours, molding themselves to your mouth in a shockingly gentle action.

You moaned softly as your lips moved together, never wanting to stop kissing now you had tasted him. Your hands lifted, placing the beer bottle on the balcony to your right before you touched him: one hand on his torso and the other on the back of his neck, fingers gently scratching at the nape.

At the sound of your soft moan, something inside Rafe snapped. He felt your hands on his skin, the feeling of your fingers scraping against his neck just made him want more, and so he took more by pressing his lips harder against yours.

Rafe quickly wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, and he let his tongue gently slide across your bottom lip. His mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, filled with just need and want and you. He was vaguely aware of the party going on below, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Rafe groaned and pressed even closer against you, pinning you up against the railing. He let his tongue explore your mouth, tasting you before he raised a hand to your throat once again, tilting your head to the side and away from his. He started gently nibbling and sucking on the skin there, letting his lips travel down over your pulse.

“Fuck,” you moaned quietly, closing your eyes as you basked in the pleasure gained from him kissing your neck. “Rafe…”

He felt a rush of satisfaction at the way you gasped his name, the sound going straight to his already-hardening cock. His lips continued to move along the skin on your neck, sucking and then biting down gently, trying to get more of those sweet sounds out of you.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” Rafe muttered in a deep grumble against your skin as his free hand started to slowly lift up the edge of your shirt.

He felt another rush of heat flow through him, settling deep in the pit of his stomach, at the breathy sound you made in reply to his praise. He let his fingers slide across the newly-exposed skin of your hip, his warm touch sending shivers through you.

“You gonna let me take you to my room?” he asked huskily, pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes again.

“Is that what you want?” you asked him with a soft grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. You tilted his head to the side, littering kissing up and down the column of his neck.

Rafe groaned as he gave you more access to his neck, pressing lower-half against you, and his fingers dug into your hips. He was already so hard, just from the way you sounded and the feel of your lips. He felt like his brain was completely clouded over now, and he couldn’t think of anything except you.

You hummed, lightly nipping at his neck and smiling softly as you heard Rafe let out a sound, like a moan had been caught in his throat. You pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, sucking at the skin between his neck and shoulder, leaving a mark and soothing over it with your tongue.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Rafe groaned again, the feeling of your tongue making him shiver. He took a shuddering breath as he tried to force himself to think clearly, but all he could really think about was your mouth on his skin.

Feeling how hard he was against your lower stomach, you pulled back to bite your lower lip. “You wanna take me into your room, Rafe? Wanna have your way and do whatever you want to me? Make me feel good?”

The teasing tone of your voice had his lust-filled brain short-circuiting. He felt your hand press against his hard length and he gritted his teeth, your hand moving up to slide over his abs, feeling his muscles tense.

“You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to make it to my room,” his voice was low and gravelly as he spoke.

“Yeah, pretty boy?”

He grunted as he felt an unexpected rush of heat at the nickname, and length twitched against your stomach. “Keep it up, and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“What if that’s what I want?” you whispered into his ear, leaving another peck against his cheek.

Rafe quickly turned his face to capture your lips with his own, the kiss anything but slow or gentle. He tried to pour all of his need into it, pushing his tongue into your mouth and hungrily tasting you. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin, and he began to move his mouth down over your jaw.

“Take me inside, Rafe. Please.”

He heard the hint of a moan in your voice, and the way you said his name, begging him to take you inside, was almost his undoing. He needed to get you alone, behind a locked door. Now.

Rafe pulled back, looking at you, his eyes dilated and filled with so much lust that it was like he’d completely lost himself in the need for you. “Come with me,” he said, voice raw, and he stepped away, just enough to grab your hand.

He wasted no time in pulling you along with him, hurrying through the balcony doors into the house, barely giving you a second to shut the door behind you before he was pulling you down a hallway and toward his room at the end. Rafe quickly opened his door and pulled you inside, shutting it behind you and locking it.

He pushed you up against the door, trapping you with his body. “Please fuck me,” you begged with a moan, fisting at the fabric of his button-up shirt.

The sound of your soft, pleading moan and your words made his head spin. At that exact moment, he was done trying to control himself. He felt his brain shut down, any higher thought completely gone, and he suddenly all he cared about was getting his hands on you.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside, before his hands almost immediately went to the shirt you were wearing. “Too many clothes,” he whispered thickly, his voice barely more than a rough grumble.

The moment he could see your skin, Rafe’s hands were on you again, touching you, feeling you. He couldn’t help but notice the little shivers you were making when he did. He brought his lips down to your neck once again, leaving more hot, wet kisses. His tongue traced the hollow of your jaw as his hands outlined your body, his touch rougher and greedier with each passing second.

Rafe let his lips move lower, down your neck and over your chest, sucking and kissing, his teeth gently scraping against your skin as he went. He stopped just above the line of your bra, taking it off before looking at you. You looked gorgeous: hair all tousled, marks already forming all over your skin, and breathing heavy.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Rafe muttered almost gruffly, his eyes travelling over your face and down your body.

“Only for you, pretty boy,” you bit your bottom lip, running your fingers over his buzzed head as he knelt down in front of you, his hands on your hips.

He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at the feeling of your fingers. He felt himself almost entranced by you, your sounds, words, and touch making it so that he didn’t care about anything other than you.

He continued his journey down your body, his lips on your stomach, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses and bites on your skin. His hands started to wander too, touching and exploring, sliding over your legs and moving up the inside of your thighs.

He looked up at you, watching your face as did so, the urge to mark you as his so primal and strong. He continued to kiss the tops of your thighs, leaving another mark behind before slowly making his way up again, closer and closer to the edge of your underwear.

“Fuck… Please.”

“Please what, Sweetheart?” He let his hands slide up your sides to your lower back, hooking his fingers on the edge of your underwear. He started to pull them down, his eyes still looking at you for your reaction. “C’mon… talk to me.”

“Please touch me.” Tears began to form in your’ eyes, but not from upset or pain; you were so turned on and impatient — you needed Rafe to touch you. “I’m so wet for you. Please.”

His own breathing was ragged now, his eyes dilated to the point the blue of them was almost completely gone, only a ring around the edge of his pupils visible. The way you sounded, so desperate and needy, almost had him fucking you against the door.

He brought his head closer to where you needed him, his lips hovering by the skin there for a moment. “How bad do you want me to touch you, baby?”

“So fucking bad, Rafe. Please,” you begged, running a hand over his short hair again. “Please.”

He leaned so that his cheek was resting on your hip, and he let out a low exhale, his breath warm and hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, and then his lips were on your skin again, leaving kisses down your hip, towards your center.

It was like he’d suddenly lost all self-control, his need to touch you, to taste you, was so strong that it was pushing him past that edge of self-restraint. He pressed his lips against your core from over your lace panties, his tongue immediately tasting you through the fabric, and he let out a low moan.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He spoke directly against you, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, before slowly hooking his fingers under the lace of your underwear and pulling them down, needing to get them off you so that he could taste you properly.

Rafe’s hands were suddenly firm on your hip as he pushed your legs apart, keeping you open for him to put his mouth on you, his tongue licking and exploring. He was relentless, actions desperate. He felt the way you trembled under his touch, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back for very long, not if he kept hearing those little sounds you were making.

You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back in pleasure and head titling back against his bedroom door. “Fuck! Feels so good, oh my god!”

Rafe loved the way you sounded, the way you reacted to him as he continued to suck on and lick at your clit. But he needed more. He pressed his hands against your hips as he continued with his attention, his tongue more demanding now. He was addicted to the taste of you, not wanting to ever touch another woman nor that he’s had you.

He continued his actions on your clit, finding what made you shiver and moan, what made you melt. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the sounds you made as he worked you with his mouth, pushing you higher and higher.

Rafe suddenly shifted, his tongue switching to a different angle. He could feel you shaking, getting closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t let up, his hands having moved to your thighs, keeping your legs open as he pressed himself closer, his tongue never slowing down, never stopping.

“Fuck!” you sobbed, the pleasure almost too much but so fucking good. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Feels so fucking good.”

Rafe couldn’t possibly stop now, not when you sounded like that, not when you were so close. He could feel how your body was tightening, almost trembling as you got closer. He was so caught up in your sounds, in your taste. He kept his movements at the same speed, not wanting to change anything, and then you were there, falling over the edge. Your legs shook as you came, crying out his name as he lapped you up greedily, still wanting more after tasting you.

Only when you were starting to come down did he stop. Rafe slowly stood up, his mouth still wet and glistening, and looked at you, at the way you were leaning against the door and trying to get your breath back.

You immediately leaned forward to kiss Rafe, your lips meeting his instantly. He felt you melt against his body, and his arms encircled your waist, kissing you almost desperately, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could possibly satisfy him.

Rafe grabbed the back of your thighs and wrapped them around his waist, picking you up and moving you over to his bed, lightly dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you. He loomed over you on the bed, his hands on either side of you. He could feel how you were looking at him, your eyes raking over his bare chest and the bulge in his pants, almost like you couldn't decide where to look first. It was driving him crazy. He felt like his skin was on fire, and he needed you to touch him, wanted to feel your hands on him.

“Please fuck me,” you quietly begged, looking up at him through your lashes. He leaned back, hands moving to his belt as he unbuckled it before sliding it through the loops of his jeans, taking them and his underwear off next.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly, raising an eyebrow. “You want that?” He looked down at you hungrily, his eyes taking in the way you looked beneath him. He suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them to either side of your head, trapping you beneath him. “You gonna be good for me if I give you that?” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

You nodded, silently pleading, begging, Rafe. You were soaked, and not just from when he ate you out moments prior. There was something about hearing him say those words, something about the way his voice sounded, so sweet and dominating, that made pleasure burn through you, making you want him even more.

He gently, almost reverently, released your wrists, his hands roaming over your body instead. “Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough. “That’s my good girl.”

Your hands lifted to rest on his bare back as Rafe smirked, reaching down and lining himself up before pushing forward into your sopping wet pussy. Your eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure, having him fill you to the brim.

"Oh, my god…” Rafe was hypnotised, his fingers grabbing at your hips. He could barely think, his mouth hanging open as his eyes glazed over.

The feeling of you beneath him, around him, was so intense he had to pause for a moment to collect himself. He felt like he was on fire, his body tense, his muscles coiled tight as he held himself above you. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, this intense, this desperate. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he started to move, his hips rocking against yours, eyes locked on your face.

He could feel your hands on his back, your nails clawing at his skin, and it only turned him on more. “That feel good, baby?” Rafe asked, voice strained with how good you felt.

“S-So good,” you nodded, tears building up in your eyes once again from the pleasure. “So deep.”

“Fuck,” Rafe moaned deeply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Your lips parted as his hips slapped against the backs of your thighs. It left you feeling dumb, no thoughts left in your head apart from how pretty Rafe looked above you. “Pussy’s so good.

“Please, please, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look up at him. His own lips parted as he reached his hands up, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he stared as your tits in awe. “Just like that — keep fucking me like that.”

Rafe could feel every little gasp, every moan, every whimper you made, and it was driving him crazy. You were making him feel things he didn’t know he could feel, and he was lost in you. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, could feel himself losing control, and he knew he couldn’t hold back for much longer.

He suddenly leaned down, his face just inches away from yours, and pressed his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavy, his breath mingling with yours, his heart racing. He was hanging on by a thread, fighting the urge to let go, but he wanted to see you fall apart for him first.

Rafe suddenly slid his hand down your body, his thumb finding your clit and quickly rubbing it. You moaned loudly, nails scratching down his back and leaving red marks in their wake.

“F-fuck!” you cried, the pleasure consuming you. Rafe sped up, going harder and rougher, his own hand coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a little pressure — just the way you liked it. He loved the sound of your voice, the way it changed as he touched you, the way it got higher and more desperate as you got closer to the edge.

He couldn’t hold back a low moan of his own, keeping his hand on your neck as he sent harsh thrusts up into you, your pussy squelching with each one.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Let me hear how good you feel.” He suddenly grabbed your hip, using it as leverage as he started to move rougher, his body tensing up. He was so close, so close to losing control, but he wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. He suddenly leaned down again, his mouth right next to your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Cum for me, baby.”

“O-Oh, my God!” you moaned loudly, barely able to say anything other than that and his name.

He knew you were close, could feel it in your body, and he felt his own body tense up in response. ”That’s it, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. “That’s it. Let go for me.”

“Rafe!” you screamed his name as you came, legs shaking around his waist with your head thrown back against his bed. He felt you tighten around him, felt your nails digging into his skin, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Gonna cum so fuckin' deep in you,” Rafe mumbled, letting go of your neck and running purely on primal instincts now. “Gonna take it all like my good girl, yeah?”

“Uh huh," you whined, tits bouncing as he continued to fuck himself deeper into you. “Please cum in me!”

“Prettier than any fucking star.” Rafe grabbed ahold of your hips, grinding his hips deep into yours a few more times, before coming to a stop. He came hard, his body tensing up as he buried his face into your neck, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm.

You felt full as his cum filled you up, letting out a hum of content. Rafe couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lay there, his body weighing you down, face pressed into your neck. He was breathing heavily, his body still shaking from the intensity of his release, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this good, this wrecked, this satisfied.

He suddenly lifted his head up, eyes locking on yours immediately, his face flushed. “You… are amazing.”