#but please. for me. at least admit that it happened and cameron actually did care a lot about it

[all-pacas]

cameron: [fights for her relationship and marriage at every turn, only giving up and leaving when chase refuses to play along, spends every episode focusing on her and chase's relationship doing everything she can to make him happy]

everyone on reddit / tumblr / whatever: cameron never cared about chase what a bitch/girlboss

[hartigays]

I’m laughing thinking about Ward going through the 5 stages of grief after learning Rafe has a boyfriend

ward cameron when rafe tells him he’s a raging homosexual:

fic under the cut!!

the dinner table is silent, save for the noises of forks and knives clinking against porcelain.

rafe stares down at his steak, mouth watering but refusing to eat it. he has plans later, after all, and steak is not kind to his bowels, despite how delicious it may be going down.

his bowels do not need to be in a twist for what’s in store for him later.

barry would probably murder him in the front yard of his trailer - it has been a week since they’ve been able to see each other, after all. and as barry had so eloquently put it on the phone earlier, rafe needs to be prepared to be “taken down to pound town, back around, and down again”.

not like anyone at the table needs to know this, but rafe imagines he’ll get questions soon enough about his lack of enthusiasm towards his meal.

almost as if she could read his mind, rose fixes rafe with a calculating look and asks, “rafe, why aren’t you eating? that’s a perfectly good steak, i don’t want it going to waste.”

going to waste, rafe thinks with an internal snort. everything in this house goes to waste - it’s just part of living on figure eight. everything is disposable, everything is replaceable.

“rafe, eat your steak,” ward insists with a sigh, not looking up from his plate. “i’m not in the mood tonight.”

in the mood for what, rafe has no idea. ward is acting like rafe is a fussy 4-year-old who he has to constantly battle with to eat his peas, when in reality ward couldn’t give less of a shit about what rafe does or says or eats on a daily basis, so long as it’s not making the family look bad.

the thought alone has rafe gritting his teeth, glaring across the table at his sorry excuse for a father.

“i’m not hungry,” rafe lies, folding his arms across his chest.

ward sighs again, like this 2-second conversation has pained him greatly, still not looking up. “i’m not arguing with you, rafe. eat the damn steak or leave the table. no one is in the mood for your sulking.”

rafe makes a face, then rolls his eyes. “i’m not sulking. but whatever, i have to be somewhere anyway.”

he scoots his chair back, ignoring sarah eyeing him warily from the seat adjacent to his.

“be somewhere? it’s almost nine,” rose questions. she raises her brows at rafe expectantly.

rose is looking at him like the stern stepmother she pretends to be, acting like she actually gives a shit where rafe is going, when the question was really only asked to ensure that whatever rafe is doing, it won’t reflect poorly on everyone else.

never mind that rafe is nearly 20 years old and can go wherever he pleases. he’s also gotten sick of this notion that every move he makes will somehow make them all look bad and tear the family apart. despite the fact that sarah is the one who’s openly dating a pogue, one who’s basically a walking red flag.

barry may live on the cut, but at least he doesn’t brand himself the king of pogueland.

rafe narrows his eyes at rose before making a split-second decision.

“well, my boyfriend gets off work late, so yeah. i have somewhere to be at nine,” rafe says offhandedly, like it’s no big deal, like everyone already knew he was a massive fruit who’s been on his knees for his local coke dealer for the past six months.

the sounds of silverware clattering onto plates fills the room, and rafe feels ridiculously satisfied with himself for getting a reaction. he loves to see these idiots squirm.

he’d rather see them all choke on rat poison, but barry is insistent that he won’t continue fucking rafe if he goes off and kills his whole family.

barry is lucky rafe loves him, because honestly, not being allowed to murder people who irritate him is kind of a buzzkill.

“you- who- your what?” ward sputters, the first to break the heavy silence.

“my boyfriend,” rafe repeats slowly, enunciating, treating ward like he’s the stupid, petulant child he constantly claims rafe is.

rafe watches ward’s face go from pale, to pink, to violently red. there’s a set to his jaw and rafe just knows ward would give anything to leap across the table and wring rafe’s neck right this very moment.

“no, nope, absolutely not,” ward snaps, furious in his denial. “not my son. no.”

“ward- ” rose starts, but ward cuts her off with a swift wave of his hand.

“do you realize how this will look for us if anyone finds out?” ward spits, holding his fork in a white-knuckle grip.

sarah actually speaks up on rafe’s behalf, which is probably the most shocking reaction rafe has gotten so far.

“dad, come on. it’s 2021,” she says with a sigh, shaking her head. “besides, rafe being gay is probably one of the only good things about him. or, wait, are you bi? or gay?”

sarah questions rafe casually, like this information doesn’t come as any kind of shock to her. rafe makes a mental note to revisit that later, along with her comment about it being one of his only good traits. she’s looking at him almost in earnest, and for a brief moment rafe is transported back to a time when he actually liked his sister.

“not that it’s any of your business,” rafe starts, glancing at her, “but i’m gay. thanks for asking. anyway, like i said, i have somewhere to be, so- ”

“not a big deal?” ward hisses, cutting him off, clearly still stuck on sarah’s surprising defense of rafe’s sexuality. “not a big deal? sarah, it’s- no, see? no. we aren’t talking about this.”

Despite his own declaration, Ward continues, “what about all those girls? all those girls you hung around with? the ones you brought around? you know you can still have them over from time to time. i know we talked about respect and responsibility, but i suppose a man does need to let loose every now and then, and if it’ll help- ”

this time, rafe is the one to cut ward off, not in the mood for his pathetic attempt at bargaining.

“dad. dad. i’m gay,” rafe says firmly. “forget about the girls. it wasn’t what you thought.”

ward opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to form some sort of coherent response. then, he buries his face in his hands, groaning.

“why is it always something with you, rafe?” ward mumbles through his hands, sounding defeated. “can we not just have one day? one day without your life overshadowing everything we’ve worked towards?”

rafe rolls his eyes at ward’s dramatics. “how does me liking dick ruin anything for this family?”

“rafe, wheezie is right here!” rose admonishes. wheezie just chokes on her water, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“sorry, wheeze,” rafe tells her, feeling only a little bad. “but i’m just saying. half the guys on figure eight go both ways. it’s seriously not a big deal.”

ward finally looks up at rafe, crossing his arms before staring for a long stretch. long enough that rafe starts to turn to go, itching to get away and back to the one person who doesn’t make him want to rip his hair out.

“fine,” ward finally says just as rafe turns on his heel. “fine. but don’t- don’t expect me to meet him. or like him. and for the love of god, don’t bring him to important events. whoever he is, he’s bound to draw attention.”

that’s very, very true. and rafe has every intention of dragging barry to the next auction or gala or what the fuck ever, clad in one of his stupid sleeveless t-shirts and basketball shorts and his hair in a messy, tangled bun - the whole nine yards.

he’s dying to see the look on ward’s face when he shows up to some black-tie event with barry the cocaine king slash dirty mechanic slash army vet in tow.

“so is that it?” rafe asks, sounding bored even to his own ears. “can i go now?”

ward still looks like he wants to slam his head through the nearest window, but he nods. accepting the truth that rafe has forcibly laid out before him, albeit reluctantly.

rafe nods back, turning and walking away with his hands stuffed in his pockets, whistling a tune that’s far too cheerful given the looks on everyone’s faces as he exits the dining room.

his favorite is ward’s, still looking angry and defeated and resigned to his acceptance of rafe’s preferences all at once. rafe hops onto his motorbike, yanking on his helmet with a smile.

barry will be proud of him, he thinks. not only did he finally come out to his family, but he also didn’t feed them rat poison during the process.

baby steps. he’s taking them one at a time, very carefully, and he thinks that’s something at least.

maybe barry will reward him for his efforts, rafe wonders, just before revving his bike to life and speeding off the property.

rafe deserves a reward, in his own personal opinion. and after all, his opinion is the only one that matters, really.

maybe barry’s, too, but only when it suits rafe. if that happens to be more often than rafe would care to admit, well. that’s between him and Jesus.

the night air is cool as it whips around him, and rafe looks forward to the warmth of barry and his shitty little trailer, not sparing a single thought about the mess he just left in his wake.

rafe presses harder on the gas, heading towards home.

[poetrusicperry]

hello darling!! if you still need inspiration for the ship + headcanon thing here;

i'll try my best to describe myself, as that is my fatal flaw. i have green eyes and messy brown hair. my classic scent is marine water and driftwood. im a entp, aquarius, and slytherin. i use the pronouns she/her. i'm extremely stubborn, i have a good sense of humor, and i love learning. i also love to argue/debate, and i'll do anything to win [even if I'm wrong, but i'm never wrong ;)]. i probably need glasses, but i'm too stubborn to ever admit it. my favourite hobbies are reading, writing, researching, baking, and playing sports. i love learning about all types of mythology + astrology. i have a knack for history, and i'm super into foraging, although I don't get to practice it much! i would describe my aesthetic as a mix of academia, cottagecore, and goblincore. i have an extremely flirtatious personality, even when i don't mean to come across that way. my friends say i have an old soul- they also say i'm a nerd but we don't talk about that. i was on our schools honor roll, and I received two other awards, one for my academic achievement and one for my leadership skills. i am a die-hard romantic, although i'm the person you least expect it from. hopefully this information will suffice, and i'm particularly interested in whom you think would fall for silly old me.

thank you for the inspo, my dear !! i hope you like these; it got pretty late and i kind of ran out of creative energy toward the end, but i still hope it's okay <3

ship:

i have this feeling that’s telling me to ship you with cameron, so i’m shipping you with cameron !! you guys both seem to have strong personalities, but i think you’d both bring so many things to the table, there would never be a boring day between the two of you (:

hcs:

baking with pittsie and meeks !! pitts would actually try, and be pretty good, but meeks would be pretty… lackluster. it’s okay, though, because meeks and the rest of the poets (who would somehow stumble into the kitchen when they heard the timer go off) would be great taste-testers

legendary debates between you and charlie. i mean seriously, these things would take all night, and in the morning there still would be no conclusion. cameron would find you guys passed out in the common area with a bunch of notes scribbled into notebooks

you and cameron would also like to debate, but things never got as heated as they did between you and charlie. you and cameron really only debated to practice actual debating, and you’d both give each other constructive criticisms and stuff

your hesitation/laziness to get glasses didn’t really affect you… except when you got seated far away from the board and would be squinting your poor eyes out to no avail.

any one of the poets would be cool with you copying their notes

you and charlie would have this weird flirtatious thing that cameron was always a bit …? about, but you and charlie were both just naturally more flirtatious, so when you interacted it was pretty 😏

neil would always ask you to run lines with him, because you wouldn’t let him stop until he had a good portion memorized; you kept him motivated and he admired how driven you were in everything you did

you and pitts doing a research project on frogs completely for fun, but learning a whole lot about amphibians in the process

sweaty, tiring soccer games between you and the poets, where you’d play until long after the sun had gone down and the flood lights came on (you, charlie, neil, and todd can’t separate the bfs vs pitts, meeks, cameron, and knox)

exchanging poetry books with todd and neil, kind of like your guys’ own little library between the three of you

joking around with cameron, even when he was trying to study (you wouldn’t stop cracking jokes until he laughed)

blurb:

after getting in a small argument with cameron about a conversation you had had with charlie, you had left cameron’s room and gone back to your own. it was frustrating to you because no matter how many times you told cameron that you and charlie were just friends, there was always the smallest bit of tension surrounding the subject. you could understand why cameron would feel upset or threatened by charlie, but you didn’t understand why cameron felt the need to bring this up time and again. for a couple days you didn’t hear from him, nor did you feel inclined to talk to him. charlie kept his distance, too, but neil and todd came and hung out a bit. in the study area, you, neil, and todd were sitting on one side of the room, and the rest of the poets were on the other side. you paid no attention to the other side of the room, not once looking toward them (though cameron kept looking at you, and even disappeared for a bit before coming back).

“you guys don’t have to sit here with me… i don’t want to make anything weird between you and the other boys,” you’d say, flipping to a new page in your notebook and glancing up at them.

“we want to, don’t worry,” neil smiled and gave you a reassuring look before turning back toward todd to help him with latin. when dr. hager told everyone to pack it in for the night, you collected your things and headed straight to your room without even a glance behind you. when you got up into your room, you dropped your books on your desk, and went to flop down into bed when a folded up piece of paper on your pillow stopped you. sighing a little bit, you unfolded it and read the contents,

“i’m really sorry that i keep making the same argument happen. it’s never my intention, i think i’m just self conscious sometimes. there are a lot of things i’m good at, but being open and confident in certain social situations is definitely not one of them. it’s not your fault, and i’m really sorry. i don’t like not talking to you; these past few days have sucked. and i haven’t been able to focus on anything. i’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, okay? please don’t stay mad at me. i’m really sorry.

love,

cameron”

soon after, you had learned that the boys had helped him write the letter, and that while he struggled with intimacy and girls sometimes, it didn’t mean he didn’t care.

[gabywantsafriend]

Anything For You: Ferris Bueller x Reader

(Kinda my gif??? Idk I found it online but I originally posted it on here)

Requested by anonymous:  ferris bueller realizing he loves the reader maybe?

I’m so sorry it took such a long time to post another imagine! I hope you guys enjoy it :’)

Warning: Swearing

“Adams?” “Here.”

“Adamley?” “Here!”

“Adamowski?” A rather lazy hand was raised, indicating the student’s presence. 

“Adamson?” “Here.”

“Adler?” The response was delayed by a couple of seconds. “Here.”

“Anderson?” Another delayed response. “Anderson?” “Here!” 

“Bueller?” 

Nothing. You quickly scanned the room, he wasn’t there. You hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t walk in that morning. You looked at Cameron and he shrugged. Apparently he didn’t know what Ferris was up to or where he was. “Bueller?” Crickets. “Bueller?” Dead silence. “Bueller?” The teacher’s monotonous voice began to sound like a broken record player. 

You cleared your throat as you tried impersonating the missing troublemaker, letting out a low “Here.” The class snickered, causing your teacher to silence everyone. Turning to you, he huffed. 

“L/n, I know you and Bueller are best friends but you really don’t have to cover for him in his absence. You’ll get your turn in the roll call later, don’t get too excited,” He went on with checking the attendance. You stubbornly sank into your seat, eyeing the vacant one next to you where Ferris was usually sat. What kind of trouble do you have in mind this time?

--------

Recess rolled in and you were standing at the phone booth just outside of your school. You dialed Ferris’ home number and waited for him to pick up. He was probably out on another one of his spontaneous adventures.

“Hello?” His voice was nasally,  he was always good at playing sick. 

“Oh, cut the crap. Where the hell are you, idiot? This is your tenth absence this semester, you said you didn’t wanna miss school after last time! No wonder your grades are shit! What are you up to now?” You scolded. Skipping class to hang out and be teenagers was fun the first few times. However as it became a habit of Ferris, you wished he could take school more seriously.

“Y/n, calm down. First of all, I could easily hack into the school’s computer system and change my grades,” He coughed. “Second, I’m not kidding this time. I’m actually sick.” You scoffed, muttering a small “yeah right.” 

Of course, you found it hard to believe. You’ve known Ferris Bueller since you were ten. And you knew that it took a lot for him to be ill. 

“Why would I ever lie to you? I’m serious,” he deadpanned. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Alright, I’ll bring today’s assignments for you and I’ll visit you as soon as class ends.” You could practically hear him smile through the phone as he spoke. “Thanks, Y/n. You’re the best.” You bid goodbye as he did the same, both of you putting down the phone.

Well, what do you know. For the first time in a long time, Ferris Bueller was sick.

--------

You dropped your bike right in front of the Buellers residence and sprinted to the back door. You lifted the rug and took the spare key that Katie Bueller left in case of emergencies or whenever you wanted to visit. You were always welcome. Unlocking the door, you bolted up the steps and stopped in front of the door to your best friend’s room..

“Ferris, you better not be naked. I’m coming in.” 

“Hi, Y/n.” The sight was beyond pitiful: The floor was littered with used tissues. Bottles of medicine decorated his dresser. And on the bed was a very pale boy, sniffling and shivering still even under the many layers of blankets he was covered in. Oh, Ferris.

“You look like shit.” He let out a weak chuckle. “It’s nice seeing you too,” he quipped. You rolled your eyes at his untimely use of sarcasm and pressed the back of your hand to his forehead.

“Jesus, you’re practically steaming,” You commented, getting up to fetch him an ice pack to hopefully lower his temperature. “I’m flattered, Y/n. I really am. But can you keep it in your pants until after I get well?” You were used to his foul-mouthed jokes by now. “Very funny, loser. Now put this on your forehead,” You handed him the cold material and he obeyed, hissing as it touched his skin. 

“Oh, right! I got the homework for you,” you told him, getting your bag and pulling out his books and assessment sheets and laying them on his desk. “I also wrote an extra copy of the notes you missed,” You handed him the pages that you’ve ripped from your notebook where the duplicates were. His eyes, teary from his cold, widened.

“Wha-? But I just asked for you to get today’s assignments! You didn’t have to go an extra mile with taking my notes for me!” He took the papers gratefully, flipping through them. “I’m convinced you’re my guardian angel or some shit! Thank you so much!”

“Anything for you.” 

It was true. You’d gladly and endlessly do anything for him.

You’ve liked Ferris since you first covered for him in fifth grade. 

Young Ferris thought it’d be a good idea to chuck a bouncy ball at Mrs. Ritland, the math teacher you had all despised. Believe it or not, he was an even bigger idiot back when you were ten. She was writing on the chalkboard, back turned to you; the perfect time to strike. The small toy hit the poor lady’s nape. The classroom was suddenly filled with gasps and the sound of laughter. She exclaimed in pain, rage-filled eyes darting from student to student. Before she could even question which delinquent threw the damned thing, you stood up and raised your hand. 

“I did it, Mrs. Ritland!”

Ferris was quick to defend you, chucking another bouncy ball at the woman. “If you even think of punishing her, you’ll have to go through me!”

You were both given a month’s detention and have been inseparable ever since. 

“I’m dying,” He croaked, snapping you out of your daydream.

“Oh, please. You’re not dying. You just can’t think of anything good to do!” You quoted him. “Didn’t you say that yourself?” 

He groaned, “Yes, I did say that myself. But now isn’t the time. I’m really not feeling well, Y/n.”

“Nonsense! It helped Cameron last time, he felt great afterwards.” You got off the bed, trying to pull him up with you. Instead, he snuggled deeper into the covers. “Aww, come on! Get up on your feet, mister! What do you feel like doing today? The weather’s lovely! Maybe we can go swimming? Or perhaps you’d like to go to the arcade? Ooh, street food sounds good! Just tell me where you wanna go, and I’ll take you there!” You coaxed excitedly.

“As much as I love our adventures, I was thinking maybe we could just stay here? You know, we could talk for a while and we can take a nap together just like when we were kids. And when I’m feeling better, we could watch a movie,” Ferris spoke softly, sniffling right after. You hummed, considering his offer.

“You can stay here and rest. I can get us some corn dogs from the stand nearby, I’ll be quick I promi-”

“No, no, you missed my point,” he shook his head, grinning at your stubbornness. “I meant can you stay? We don’t have to go anywhere. I enjoy your company, it’s more than enough,” He pulled the blankets to his nose, hiding his bashful smile as well as his growing blush. You were sure you would have melted then and there.

“Sure thing. Ferris.” You adored this boy.

It had been an hour since you’d agreed to stay in with Ferris and you were seated at his desk, tutoring him about trigonometric functions, a lesson he missed that day. He was reading the notes on the topic, following along with what you were saying. “Okay, I found this to be quite easy. So, we start off with the basics: sine, cosine, and tangent-”

At least, that’s what it looked like.

At first glance, it seemed as though he was actually studying. But what you didn’t know was that he had been admiring your handwriting and your little doodles on the blank spaces of the paper. 

See, Ferris liked you. He’s liked you since forever ago. He remembered the moment so vividly, as if it only happened yesterday. 

“I did it, Mrs. Ritland!”

He looked at you and thought, “Wow, that is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Obviously, he couldn’t let a pretty girl such as you take the blame for what a stupid boy such as him had done. It just wasn’t fair to you. So he immediately admitted that it was his fault, as he should.

He felt guilty that you had to get wrapped up in this mess and had to suffer the consequences. To make up for it, every time you had detention, he would take you to secret hideouts around the school. That two months of running around school trying not to get caught marked your first of soon-to-be-many adventures. 

And now here you were, almost eight years later, helping him solve for x. His eyes softened at how into it you were while teaching him. You were even more beautiful than when you were a kid, just when his younger self thought you couldn’t get any more stunning. 

He thought about how you were kind enough to fill him in on everything he’d missed; how as soon as class was dismissed, you biked as quickly as you could just to take care of him. You could have easily ditched him to go out and get those corn dogs you’ve been craving; or you could have easily gone out for a walk since, according to you, “the weather’s lovely.” 

But you didn’t. 

You stayed. 

The mere thought of that, along with everything about you, caused his heart to pound out of his chest. 

I think I’m in love with her. Fuck that. I am in love with her.

“...And that explains why sine 90° is equivalent to 1. What the-? Ferris Bueller, are you even listening?” You waved a hand in front of his face, still not responding. He looked as if his mind was somewhere completely different. “Hello? Earth to Ferris?” He blinked a few times, shaking his head. He whispered something you didn’t quite catch. “What?” He whispered again. “I can’t hear you, pal. Speak up.” 

“I love you. There, I said it.” You were at a loss for words as your eyes met. Both of you progressively got redder by the second.

“What in the right mind made you say that?” Confusion was evident in your voice, as well as nervousness. 

“I’ve loved you for a while now and when you dropped everything to visit me today, I realized how deep I’ve fallen,” Ferris bashfully stated. He could be cheesy at times but you thought it was cute.

“Woah, you are such a fucking sap,” You both burst into laughter, him scoffing and clutching his chest in mock offense. “I love you too, you dingus.”

His heart fluttered as you said it. The mix of his sickness and your confession made him lightheaded. You plopped down on his bed, hugging him tightly. “Wait, what are you doing? You’re too close, I’m gonna get you sick!” He asked as you kissed his nose. 

You got under the covers with him, rolling your eyes, “You think I still care? I fucking love you for Christ’s sake!” You made him laugh at that. “How about that nap you suggested earlier, hmm?”

He closed his eyes, the biggest grin still plastered on his face. “She loves me,” being the last thought in his head before contently falling asleep.

[matthewtkachuk]

feel something pt 7 - jj maybank

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents, abuse

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: dealing with the aftermath of our runaway reader. They say you don’t kiss and tell, but some people just can’t help it. Special s/o to my babe @ohfreyfrey for her help with the end 😇 I heard yall like cliffhangers…

series masterlist

The next day, the potential consequences of your actions set in even further. This isn’t some Romeo and Juliet fairytale, you’re y/n y/l/n, your life was never going to be a fairytale. Plus, that play ended with them dying and you weren’t really into that. Taking a page out of Sarah’s playbook, you start ignoring the larger group, only speaking to Sarah and occasionally Kie. You know you’re avoiding your problems and your feelings for the blond pogue, but the alternative is terrifying.

You’re imagining allowing yourself to completely fall for him and the thought is paralyzing. It’s like handing JJ a loaded gun, showing him exactly where to shoot to kill, and then trusting him not to. You haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. Not since your parents first put their hands on you in anger, not since Jacob Kane touched you inappropriately at a party without your consent, not since Sarah Cameron dropped you without warning. It really scares you, the thought that you were willing to risk that again.

Your parents also scared you. Even if you could get the courage to fall into the unknown without JJ, you couldn’t be open with your relationship. It could never get back to either of your parents, or  there would be hell to pay. You were expected to marry rich and marry well. But the thought of spending the rest of your life with a Rafe Cameron or Topper Thornton or Kelce Smith or Jacob Kane made you physically ill. Your parents tolerated your behaviour thus far (if you could consider daily screaming matches and bruises and marks tolerating), but you knew lowering yourself to date a pogue would be the last straw. You didn’t know what they would do, but you knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

It’s two days before the texts start rolling in.

maybank: hey

maybank: just wanted to see if you were ok

maybank: did i do something wrong?

maybank: please talk to me

maybank: i can’t stop thinking about that kiss

maybank: y/n

You don’t know who gave JJ your number but you’re sure it was probably Sarah, who didn’t know when to let things be. You know the smartest thing to do would be to block him, but every time you go to click the button, you hesitate with your thumb poised over your phone and you can never do it. A part of you, one that’s honestly pretty big likes that he’s thinking of you too. It wonders if he feels the same way you do. You’re not stupid, you can acknowledge that he at least likes you a little, if that kiss was any indication. You had felt alive under his touch, with your lips pressed together. That night you had gotten drunk and stoned in your locked bedroom, trying to chase that high but you were right. Nothing would ever come close.

You’re sitting on your bed, staring at the text messages that you have memorized from the number of times you’ve read them when your door is thrown open. You look up in shock, you had definitely locked that to avoid your parents. Chick is grinning at you brightly, holding up a bobby pin to show she had picked the lock. You don’t really acknowledge her presence, only scooting over on your bed to give her room to sit with you. “Sarah’s really worried about you, you know,” she states, and you just shrug. The two of you sit in an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two, before she snatches your phone out of your grasp. You gasp and attempt to pull it from her hands, but she’s a lot smaller and a lot quicker, jumping off your bed and running towards your en suite, ready to jump in and lock the door if necessary. Understanding your odds, you resign yourself to the fate of your little sister reading your text messages and finally figuring out what’s wrong with you.

She looks up at you and gasps your full name, middle name and all, “JJ Maybank??” she screeches. You shush her quickly, not wanting to open that can of worms with your parents just yet. It’s probably a waste of time, if they’re even home they’re likely nowhere near the bedrooms, but still you want to be cautious. “JJ Maybank is the reason you’ve holed yourself up in your room and avoided everyone for four days?”

“Chick,” is your only response, tilting your head as you look at her, eyes silently begging her to stop.

“What’s the big deal, y/n? So what, you kissed a pogue, haven’t you kissed like a hundred boys?” she asks.

“Don’t slut shame me,” you tell her grumpily, “and I haven’t kissed like a hundred people. It’s just…” you trail off, unable to find the words. Or maybe you can find them, you just don’t feel like sharing with your baby sister that you’ve fallen ass over feet over JJ Maybank.

“Oh my god,” Chick says, as something like realization sparks in her eyes, and she stands up even straighter than before and exclaims, “you’re in love with him!”

“What?!” You look at her in disbelief, that was quite a jump from a kiss to love. Your tongue trips over itself as you quickly protest, “Absolutely not Chicklet, that’s actually insane!”

“Is it?” She asks, hands on her hips looking much older than her thirteen years.

“You can’t be in love with someone you’ve only known a few weeks,” you tell her drily, unimpressed with the conversation. Sure, you’ll admit that you’ve got feelings for the pogue, but love? Chick is crazy, love is crazy. That’s not what’s going on here.

“I mean, technically you’ve known him for years.” She rebuts your point.

You sigh deeply, “Okay fine, then you can’t fall in love with someone you’ve only been interested in for a few weeks.”

“So you admit you’ve been interested in him for a few weeks!” She shouts triumphantly, “Wait until I tell Sarah.”

“Chick,” you warn her, “don’t you dare.”

“Your friends are worried about you y/n! I’m not going to lie to them!” She tells you.

“Sarah and Kie will be fine, if you tell them they’ll just go even crazier than they are,” you tell her.

“They’re not the only ones worried, Sarah said they’re all worried. Especially JJ.” She explains, causing your heart to constrict at the mention of JJ worrying over you.

Brushing over the feeling in your chest, you can’t help but ask, “Even John B?” Chicks face falls a little at that, confirming your suspicion that John B still doesn’t think very highly of you. “Right, well tell Sarah and whoever else cares that I’m fine alright.”

“y/n” she says slowly, and the pity in her tone causes your heart to ache. Huffing dramatically, you slide down and under the covers, throwing your comforter over your head.

“I’m fine Chick,” you tell her, voice muffled. You regulate your breathing as you hear her steps near your bed, before she drops what you assume is your phone on your nightstand and then leaves the room, door clicking softly shut behind her.

While you’re talking with your sister, JJ is on the other side of the island in a house that is a lot smaller and less taken care of but has experienced a lot more love, having a similar conversation with the best friend he considers more of a brother.

“What is your problem? You’ve been moping around for two days like someone ran over your dog or something,” John B confronts JJ who hasn’t moved from his spot in the spare bedroom except to eat and use the washroom. JJ can’t really explain, doesn’t want to really explain. He doesn’t need to hear it from John B again about how you are the worst of the worst kook princesses and just messing with him. JJ knows it isn’t true, not that the two of you have ever spoken about it, but from that moment at Midsummers to now, he’s felt something starting between the two of you. Despite initial misgivings, he was wrong about you. Like, really wrong.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” JJ grumbles. Truthfully, he can’t get you out of his head. He had asked Sarah for your number and then proceed to not only text you, but text you five times while being left on read each time. JJ didn’t text girls, he hit it and quit it and dodged texts like it was his third day job. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was worried about you. Having been on the receiving end of a parent’s fist on more than one occasion, he wasn’t sure if you were even okay.

He thinks of how you pressed against him, the way your chapped lips felt against his, the soft feel of your hands on his jaw. He thinks of the satisfaction of finally having you in his arms, the slight lilt of hope in his chest that maybe he wasn’t alone in how he felt about you. But then he thinks of the way you froze, saw the panic in your eyes, and felt the ache in his chest as you ran from him.

“Something obviously happened between you and the princess.” John B astutely observes.

“Don’t call her that,” JJ snaps, frustrated. It’s not really John B’s fault, but the mention of the word ‘princess’ just reminds him of when you told him to call you by your name. Reminds him of that afternoon together, when you had firmly cemented your place at the forefront of his mind. When his initial attraction (and yes he was very attracted to you) had blossomed into admiration of your confidence on the waves and your kindness when dealing with Chick. When he had poked at you and entered your personal space and flustered you to the point you threatened to send him through the windshield.

John B throws his hands up. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with Rafe’s property,” John B tries again. JJ glares at him, body tensing up with unbridled rage thinking of the possessive way Rafe looks at you.

“She’s not-“ He has to pause to unclench his jaw and his fists, swallowing before continuing “she’s not his property John B.”

“She might as well be, the way she hangs off of him. Or are you blind?” His best friend replies.

JJ shakes his head in frustration, pulls his snapback off his head and wrings it in his grasp, “You don’t know what you’re talking about John B.”

John B gives his best friend his best incredulous look, eyes widening comically and head tilting as his hands move away from his brain to mime an explosion, complete with side effects. “Have you actually gone insane? Like, are you feeling okay dude?” John B reaches for his best friends forehead, to pretend to take his temperature, but JJ slaps his hand away.

“Fuck off,” JJ mutters when he tries to do it again, and that’s when John B realizes things are serious.

“C’mon man, what’s going on?”

“I really like her man,” JJ sighs heavily, “like really like her. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t like girls. I mean, I do, but not like this man. I can’t stop thinking about her. I worry about her and I wonder if she’s okay. She drives me crazy, but like, in a good way. And then I kissed her, and I think I fucked it up.”

“For the record, I think this is a bad idea and I reserve the right to tell you I told you so when shit blows up,” John B warns, JJ rolls his eyes but nods, indicating for him to continue. “But, I have to ask. Did you tell her any of this or did you just mack on her and hope her wealthy parents bought her the ability to read minds.”

JJ’s silence is telling. He pulls out his phone, unable to stop the small pang of disappointment that you haven’t yet responded to any of his text messages. He can’t help but send another text, texting etiquette or whatever be damned, he’ll text you as many times as it takes for you to reply.

maybank: i just want to make sure you’re okay

seen 2:34 pm

JJ tries to not let the disappointment take root in his chest, recognizing that you need time to deal with what happened, acknowledging the many times he has gone ghost on his own friends, but the insidious feeling takes hold of him anyway. Walking away from John B, he reflects on his best friend’s advice and realizes there’s a lot he needs to tell you.

“C’mon y/n/n, you have to get out of this room,” Sarah tells you. You’ve let her into your house, realizing that you can’t just shut her out completely without her resorting to desperate measures (like enlisting your little sister in her quest for knowledge). It may have been a mistake because she’s spent the last few minutes trying to convince you to go out to a kegger.

“I don’t want to go,” you tell her, despite the fact that your base state of being has been stuck on ‘I could really use a drink’ since that kiss.

“Because you don’t want to see JJ? Because you kissed him?” She asks, sympathetically. You gasp, Sarah has been over for twenty five minutes, and you had assumed her silence on the matter meant Chick hadn’t snitched.

“I can’t believe Chick told you, you can’t trust anyone, not even your own blood,” you said dramatically.

“Chick didn’t tell me, John B did.” Sarah replies, and you’re confused at first, and then you groan.

“Oh my god, I bet he had a lot to say,” you tell her, and she winces a little. You nod to yourself, “Great, that’s great. Is JJ just telling everyone now? Does everyone know?” You can’t help the annoyed look that crosses your face, despite knowing the annoyance is just a deflection.

“Well, I’m sure JJ told Pope, and I may have let it slip to Kie.” You groan audibly, burying your head in your hands. “Listen, y/n, I was sworn to secrecy,” you roll your eyes, knowing Sarah can’t keep a secret to save her life, evidenced by the first half of her statement, “but, JJ told John B that he really likes you.”

You groan louder, “that’s worse!” but your words are muffled by your arms.

“You wanna repeat that in English that the rest of us can understand?” Sarah responds sassily, and you just groan again. She gives you a minute to mull it over before she’s grabbing you by your upper arms and shaking you.

“Hey, get off of me you psycho,” you twist in her grasp, swatting at her hands.

“Tell me what you’re thinking!” she exclaims, still wrestling with you

“I really like him!” You admit. She pauses, grip slackening long enough for you to slide out from underneath her.

“Okay, I’m failing to see the problem here,” she replies sassily, hand moving to her hip.

“Sarah, my parents! Their expectations, The Lecture, it can never happen.”

She nods in understanding, considerably more somber than before, before replying, “fuck them.”

“Sarah, come on you know it’s not that easy,” you protest, but she shakes her head and repeats herself.

“Fuck. Them.”

“Yeah, and then what? I don’t get my trust fund until I turn eighteen next year, and you can bet they’ll take it away from me if I stray away from the perfect daughter before then. And what about Chick? You don’t think that they’ll take it out on Chick if I just up and leave?” It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it, throwing it all away and starting fresh somewhere new. But you didn’t think they would let you go that easily, and you could never leave Chick behind.

“Then we’ll get my dad and Rose to do something,” Sarah continues to protest, but you shake your head.

“Sarah, stop. It’s never going to work, your dad and Rose aren’t going to go against my father.” She sighed in defeat, realizing that you weren’t going to budge. At least not yet.

“Will you please just come to the kegger? Me and Kie can run interference for you.” She pleads, Cameron pout on full display and you roll your eyes before muttering fine. Her excitement makes you smile a little, for the first time in a few days.

You don’t know why you agreed to come. There’s an anxious feeling in your chest as you take in all the moving bodies with red solo cups in their hands. You’re not sure if you’re looking to spot JJ or hoping you don’t spot him at all. Maybe it’s both, you think as you take a small sip of whatever swill is in your own red cup. You don’t know whether you would kiss him again, run away, or maybe both like the last time.

Lost in your thoughts of the blond, Rafe’s hand is on your waist before you even comprehend that he’s appeared at the party. “Heard you’re officially with Maybank now,” his grip is tight, but you’re able to peel his hand from your body.

“I’m not officially with anyone!” You let your many frustrations out on Rafe, without even a hint of guilt. “God Rafe, when are you going to leave me alone? I don’t owe you shit.” You see hurt flash in his eyes, but you frankly don’t care anymore. He is persistent to a fault, and you want to get it through his thick skull for once.

There’s a small crowd around you, mouths gaping, more than one person is on their phone, likely frantically texting everyone your business. You roll your eyes and push past them, dropping your cup on the first surface you find on your way back to your car. You don’t stop to tell Sarah you’re leaving, but you figure she’ll get the memo when she hears about your run in with Rafe, if she hasn’t heard about it already. You’re upset and frustrated, and so supremely grateful that neither your parents nor Chick are home as you stomp up the stairs and throw yourself on your bed. You didn’t need to add Rafe’s gross possessiveness to the inner turmoil running through your head.

It’s a solid twenty minutes of you just staring up at the ceiling before your phone buzzes with a text message. Figuring it’s probably Sarah and you owe her at least a brief explanation, you unlock the phone. But it’s not a message from Sarah. At the bottom of a string of unreplied to messages is a new text:

maybank: i’m outside, we need to talk

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[collecting-stories]

Fangs - Rafe Cameron

Request: Could I request smth where the reader and Rafe are having like a secret casual fling, but then Rafe admits he's catching feelings and the reader tells him that she's in love with John B (her best friend)

Request: Can I request a Rafe fic based on Matt Champion - Fangs , or Cocaine by Pink Sweat$ 🥺🤲🏻 whichever one inspires you more to write

A/N: Since Reputation is a similar storyline I thought I would change up the outcome...also...a smidgen of smut (it’s not my forte so I apologize in advance if its the worst thing you’ve ever read.)

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

The curtains were still drawn, just a hint of sunlight peeking through as you sat on the bed, tying your bikini top. On the other side of the door you could hear Rose Cameron’s shrill voice bossing around the maid. Inside the room it was still mostly dark, chilled from the air conditioning, the comforter was mussed up on the bed, pushed away from your side. You had your shorts in hand and grabbed your shirt from the floor. Keys, phone, wallet, all sat on the nightstand next to a pink bong.  

Behind you, on the other side of the bed, someone groaned. You looked back over your shoulder as Rafe pushed the comforter away from his face, hair mussed. His fringe hung in his eyes as he yawned and looked over at you.  

“Hey, you leaving?” He asked, watching as you tied your hair back.  

“Yeah.” You nodded, standing up. The cool composure you worked so hard on falling into place. Rafe sat up, scooting toward your side of the bed as he leaned back against the headboard. “I’ll text you later?”

“Okay.” He looked a little lost in the morning and you knew it had everything to do with last night.  

If it had been before or even in the heat of the moment you could’ve easily ignored it. Written him off as trying to get you there or just being a little too far gone. But it wasn’t either of those things. He’d said it as he came down. With his weight on you, sweaty in too warm bedroom, he’d kissed you a little longer than usual and told you he loved you.  

You’d chosen to ignore it, at least you pretended too. But the words were there at the forefront of your brain the entire night. Nothing you did made you feel more restful. You knew what you should’ve done. You should’ve pulled on your clothes right then, told him you were cutting things off, and left.  

“We’re not gonna-”

“I’d rather not, Rafe.” You replied, grabbing your phone to check it. A text from Kiara asking if you’d heard from John B. According to your phone it was later in the morning than you’d thought it was. “I told you-”

“Casual, yeah I know.” He nodded, “it doesn’t feel casual though.”

“Please, Rafe, don’t do this.” You stressed.  

“You’ve been here every night this week. You can’t act like that doesn’t mean something.” He said, moving so that he was at the edge of the bed, grabbing your hands. You didn’t pull away immediately, staring down at your hands intertwined with his.

You’d been adamant that this thing you were doing was only casual. And that hadn’t been an issue for Rafe in the beginning, or at all, until last night. And now you were wondering how long he had been catching feelings for you.  

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I like having sex with you.”  

“Baby,” Rafe pulled you down onto his lap. He kissed along your neck and shoulder and you moved your head to the side to give him more access.  

You tried to ignore the way his fingers ran along your thigh. “Don’t Rafe,” you wanted to say that you didn’t want to do this, to have to end things because he was getting too emotionally involved. But then you would have to admit that maybe you wanted to continue because you were that involved too. 

The hand around your back brushed along your side, fingers grazing the edge of your bikini top. You gripped your clothes tighter as his other hand pressed against the inside of your thigh. It was a silent request for access, one you were too familiar with by now. That should have been the warning sign, the pressure against your thigh should have woken you out of the trance that seemed to enclose Rafe’s bedroom but instead your other leg went slack, falling off his lap, your foot stabilizing you as you opened up for him. 

Eyes closed, the sensation of him drowned out any thoughts that had been weighing you down. His hands were warm against your skin and you shifted on his thigh as his fingers slipped passed your bikini bottoms. You always wore bathing suits to his house under the guise that you had just literally been swimming but usually it was simply because it was easier to pull a string than to both taking off clothes. 

“Holy shit Rafe,” you stuttered, grabbing his forearm as his middle finger circled your clit. His other hand moved up to your throat as he placed kisses along your shoulder. Somehow he’d managed to manipulate your body so you were straddling one of his thighs, facing the door to his bedroom. With your back against his chest, his grip on your neck tightened just enough that you could feel the pressure of his fingers on your throat at the same time he pressed against your clit. You jerked forward, breath catching from lack of air. 

“What’s the matter baby?” His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. 

You inhaled, nails scratching at his forearm as he continued to play with your clit, middle finger brushing against the bundle of nerves so delicately it was barely a touch. But you knew what he was doing. You were always hypersensitive in the morning and he knew it. 

His grip on your neck loosened as he slipped his middle finger inside of you and your toes curled around the carpeting. “Please, Rafe.” Your voice sounded far off. 

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded, head bobbing against his shoulder. He pressed his thumb against your clit and you whimpered at the sudden pain it caused.

“That’s not an answer baby.” 

Rafe was nothing if not a control freak and you liked the idea of someone else taking over. You let him be as controlling and possessive and needy as he wanted. 

“I’m waiting.” He moved his thumb, gentle circles still enough to cause spasms. You weren't sure if you were already halfway there or still having aftershocks from the night before. 

“Fuck, yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, It feels good,” you breathed out, rewarded by him beginning to move his finger in and out, he added another, stretching you just enough. You weren’t just hypersensitive you were still sore from him last night and you could only handle so much. “You always know how to make me feel good.” 

You felt Rafe smile against your neck. There was nothing he loved more than praise. And he certainly deserved it.

-

“I’ll call you later, I promise.”

“I’m going to the club later with Topper and Kelce if you wanna come by.” He offered.   

Part of your agreement with Rafe was that you didn’t hang out in public. It was one of the first things that you had proposed when you started this casual thing, that no one could know what was going on with the two of you. Especially not considering who your friends were. If John B or any of the pogues found out that you had even looked in Rafe’s direction you would be excommunicated. Having sex with him was out of the question.  

You heard yourself say maybe instead of no and you kissed him even though you knew it wasn’t a good idea. Once you were gone Rafe laid back down, burying his head in his pillow and groaning. He seriously regretted telling you that he was falling in love with you and that he wanted this to be more than sex. But now that he had told you he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He knew why this started, because you didn’t think the guy you liked was interested in you.  

It had been a blow to the gut last night when you admitted to him that you were in love with John B. Of all the people in the Outer Banks you had chosen that smart ass pogue to be in love with. He’d kept his cool though.  

“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.” You had remarked as you on his bed with him the night before.

“You can tell me how in love you are with John B but I don’t see you fucking him.”  

“Rafe-”

“It doesn’t matter alright.” Rafe had sworn that he didn’t care that you claimed you were in love with John B, you were there with him. You’d gone to the party last night to see him, not John B and when you went home it wasn’t with John B.  

But he couldn’t deny that he hated seeing you leave in the morning, knowing that you were going to find your pogue friends and pretend like nothing had ever happened between the two of you. He wanted this to be more than secret texts and meeting up at night so no one would see you together. He wanted to take you out during the day and actually show up with you at a party, not just watch you from across the room.  

You had told you were in love with John B because you had been in love with him since sixth grade. Always too chicken to tell him how you felt, you were hopelessly in love with your best friend and hated anyone that occupied his attention. It was at a party, when you saw him chatting with some touron, that you got drunk and had sex with Rafe for the first time. Now it felt like all the time and you didn’t need to think about John B smiling at some other girl to get you in Rafe’s bed. It was enough for Rafe to text you and tell you that he missed you or that he was thinking about you. And you knew what that meant but you didn’t want to think about it.

-

The vallet at the club let you through when you told him you were there to see Rafe Cameron. You’d never been to the club before though Rafe had invited you a few times. It was always meaningless because you both knew that you would never go there, that was too public. If anyone saw you with him there was no explaining to your friends what you were doing with him.  

He was outside at the golf counter with Topper and Kelce and you hung back, waiting for him to notice you watching them. When he did, he passed his club off to Kelce and walked over to you, weaving through tables and chairs. This was it, you thought as he approached you. This was it. He stopped in front of you, ready to ask what you were doing there because sure, he had invited you, but seeing you actually there was surreal. He didn’t get the chance to ask though as you kissed him. You grabbed his shirt and kissed him without warning.  

Rafe’s eyes went wide. Before he could kiss you back you were pulling away.  

“I lied.” You admitted.

You didn’t tell him that you’d gone looking for John B that afternoon when he didn’t show up to hang out like he was supposed to. That you’d seen him on the dock kissing Sarah. You had stood there on the deck staring at them kissing and realized that you felt nothing. You weren’t mad, you weren’t so upset you thought you might burst into tears like you had at that party months ago. You were completely indifferent. It felt like watching strangers kiss, it meant nothing to you and you knew why. Because you had told Rafe that you were in love with John B and you wanted casual only but you were lying.  

“Lied about what?” He asked, still feeling dazed by your actions.

“I’m not in love with John B.” You replied, the words sounding foreign to your brain. You’d dedicated so much of your life and energy to the unrequited crush you had on your best friend, “I don’t want this to just be casual.”

Rafe licked his lips and grinned. He imagined that Topper and Kelce were watching, trying to figure out what was going on. He was too far into this to care about their opinions. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Isn’t the point of me telling you I wanna be public that we...ya know, are public?”  

“Right now I just want you to myself.”

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @ssprayberrythings @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox 

[stardusttkachuk]

Just Friends

Pairing: John B x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, things get a little steamy but not really

Summary: After finding out that Sarah cheated on him, John B rushes to Y/N’s house for comfort, but it’s not the comfort he was seeking.

(x)

John Booker Routledge came into your life six years ago, and hasn’t stopped fucking it up since. Actually, that isn’t true. He was whirlwind but he meant well. He saved you from heartbreak more times than you care to admit and dragged you on the most insane adventures whenever possible. He made life interesting. 

He was your best friend, and at one point something more. Friends with benefits, if you want to call it that, but it was more than that. It felt like it could be a relationship, it felt personal, like there were emotions laced in there somewhere. It was anything but just hooking up. And then he met Sarah Cameron and whatever was there between you two was gone in an instant. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt, watching him with her. He was so good to her. It was clear he loved her. Sometimes you wished John B loved you like that. And other times you were just glad whatever you did have was over. Someone was going to get hurt anyway and better you than him, you at least could put those feelings aside and still be his friend, and Sarah’s too eventually- once you got over the whole kooks vs pogues thing.

They were good together. So it came as a huge shock when John B wound up on your doorstep, drenched from the storm and eyes red and puffy. John B was never one to hide his emotions and you could tell right away he had been crying.

You quickly pulled him inside so as to not let the rain continue to soak him.

You led him further into the house grabbing a towel from the closet in the hallway. You wrapped it around his shoulders, using the ends of it to dry off his brown locks. They were dripping from the rain, making him look even more pitiful. 

“What happened?” you finally asked.

Another sob racked through his body as he spoke. “Sarah cheated on me.”

The words didn’t surprise you. Sarah cheated on Topper with John B and there was apparently someone before Topper who she had cheated on as well. And as the saying goes, once a cheater, always a cheater. But you weren’t going to say I told you so, or you should’ve seen it coming. John B didn’t need to hear that.

“I’m sorry.”

“I thought she was different. I thought that she had changed. Kie was right. She gets close to people and then she can’t handle it and bails.”

“Hey,” you said, taking the corner of the towel and using it to dry the newly shed tears. “Her loss.” 

John B gave a weak chuckle and then nodded. “Yeah.”

You pulled him into your room, sifting through the bottom dresser drawer until you found a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that belonged to him. He always kept an extra change of clothes at your place, but he hadn’t used them in forever. It was silly, but it made you smile knowing he’d use them again tonight. 

You passed off the two articles of clothing to him. “Go take a warm shower. And then we can talk, or watch a movie or whatever you want to do.”

He nodded again, grabbing the clothes from you. “Thank you,” he whispered, heading off in the direction of the bathroom. 

John B came back 20 minutes later, now dressed in the comfortable clothes, hair still damp from the shower. You didn’t expect him to climb into bed with you and curl up against you with his head in your lap, but you weren’t about to push him away. Instead you raked your fingers through his hair, brushing out the tangles. “Do you want to talk?”

He shrugged. “There’s not much to say. She was at the dock, getting the boat all covered for the storm and I thought I’d go there and surprise her, help her cover it and then take her to lunch. And I could hear her talking and laughing with someone and as soon as I was close enough I saw them. She was kissing him like… like  I didn’t even exist.”

The tears were welling up in his eyes again. He took a shaky breath and wiped his hand over his face. “I couldn’t say anything. I just stood there until she pulled away from him. And then she saw me, and you know what she said to me? She said ‘John B I’m so sorry’, as if sorry was gonna fucking fix what she had done.” He was angry now. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he retold the story. It wasn’t often you saw him this upset, and it killed you to watch him cry. All you could do was hold him and dry his tears when he needed it.

“I should’ve never gotten involved with a kook. They’re bad news all around,” he sighed. “I wish I had listened to you guys.”

You shrugged. “Some lessons you can’t learn by word of mouth. You have to experience them.”

“How do you always know the right thing to say?” John B asked, sitting up in front of you. 

You shrugged. “It’s a gift,” you giggled.

He smiled. “I’ve missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“Us. We haven’t hung out just the two of us in a while.”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?”

John B chuckled and rolled his eyes at you. “I take it back.”

“No you don’t. C’mon, admit it.”

“Not in a million years.”

You poked his side, making him laugh. “Say it,” you pestered. 

He shook his head, mouth clamped shut. Your hands went to his sides, tickling him and making him burst out laughing. “Whose fault was it, John B?” You asked over his laughter.

“Stop!” He made an attempt to push your hands away, which failed. “Stop, please!”

“Not until you say it!” 

“M-Mine!” he managed to get out between fits of laughter. “It was mine! Stop!”

He grabbed one of your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours as you stopped tickling him. 

“Thank you,” you grinned. 

Silence fell across the room, save for each of your panting breaths. John B’s hand was still laced through yours. He was inches from your face now. You looked from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again. You leaned half an inch closer to him. 

John B leaned in too, his free hand came up to cup your chin, tipping your head up. His lips molded to yours, a familiar feeling and one that you had missed so much. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. His grip on your hand released and you let both your hands wander to his face and behind his head until your fingers were threaded in his hair. 

His tongue darted out, swiping across your bottom lip You responded by opening your mouth and letting him in. His other hand found your waist and the hand that was on your chin had now moved to cup your cheek. John B pulled away for a fraction of a second, letting you both breathe before his lips were back on yours. 

His hand gripped the hem of your shirt, and his other hand joined it, lifting it up. You raised your arms and pulled away from him, letting him take your shirt off. You grabbed his too and he aided in pulling it off and chucking it behind him, forgotten somewhere on the bed or the floor, you weren’t really sure and you didn’t care that much either. 

You wrapped your arms around his back, hands roaming the tanned skin, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. His lips moved from yours to your neck, just below your jaw. Then lower, nipping and sucking at certain spots but never hard enough to leave a mark. He kissed your shoulder, hands moving from your hips to the straps of your bra. He pushed each strap down, letting them fall down your arm. Then his hands slid around your back, finding the band. As fingers fumbled to find the hooks, whatever trance you had been put it had worn off. The high was gone and you knew exactly what was happening now.

“J-John B, wait,” you said, pushing at his chest slightly.

His hands were still resting on your back as he pulled away from you, meeting you face to face. “Is everything okay?”

You shook your head sadly. “I can’t do this.”

“Have sex? That’s okay. We don’t have to have sex.” 

“No, it’s not just that. I can’t be your rebound.”

John B bit his lip, nodding his head slowly. 

You hated the sad look on his face, but you couldn’t let yourself get hurt again. “What we were doing before, we can’t go back to that. Not right now anyway. You need time-”

“I get it,” he cut you off.  “We’re just friends.” 

He grabbed your shirt from the side of the bed, handing it back to you while he collected his own shirt and put it on. 

“I should, um, go home.”

“John B,” you sighed. “You can stay.”

“No. No, you’re right. I need time. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat, swallowing hard. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Be safe,” you said.

“Yeah.” He gave you a weak smile, but you could see the hurt behind it. 

You almost wanted to take back your words, let him crawl back into bed with you and fuck until he forgot all about Sarah, but it was better this way. Which is why it hurt so fucking bad watching him walk away once again. 

[haleviyah]

A Hispanic/ Latino Perspective: Border Clarification

This is one of the rare times I’m going to get somewhat political here, but these comments spread by the media are hitting to way close to home for me, so here I go.

Before you pounce on me, let me explain this: I am a moderate. I favor no sides, I don’t treat people by their titles but rather I prefer to judge by character even though I am not the best at it, admittedly. I favour and respect those who keep their word and own their mistakes. In short, if you do what you promise to do, you have my approval whereas if not, you will bear the brunt of my blunt rebukes and sarcastic remarks.

I am also from South Texas, specifically the Rio Grande Valley, and am a descendent of two humble Mexican families who since the Mexican Border War have made Texas their great escape and home.

Bit of a geographical reference, if you don’t know here where the Rio Grande Valley is. Look at the state of Texas, there is a bulge of state going in each direction that makes it look like a fat, lower-case ”t” : El Paso is the most West of the state, the Panhandle (Amarillo) the Northmost, Texarkana the most Eastward followed by Houston, and WAAAAAAY at the bottom is Brownsville and the Southernmost tip of Texas.

And for those of you too lazy to Google or "DuckDuckGo" the map yourself I've attached it:

The four counties: Hidalgo, Cameron, Starr and Willacy county make up the Rio Grande Valley. This is the region I grew up, the place where I experienced the best of a community and the worst of politics and failed promises.

For a bit of background: I have a parent working on the Border and they have been for many years (since I was a kid). Pretty much worked from a security officer to trooper within the span of a decade which is quite impressive and rare considering they never took bribes or anything to get where they were currently. They have told me off and on what their job is like. It’s crazy and boring some days, but also they have admitted somethings that may be fascinating. One of which is, yes, they do own horses and the reason why is so the Troopers can maneuver around tough terrain vehicles cannot go through (such as high water or narrow foot paths in brush). HOWEVER, they DO NOT OWN WHIPS. They don’t even own lassos, according to my Border Agent parent.

The only weapons agents on horse back have is a Glock, ammo, a taser, cuffs, and sometimes shot guns (but they prefer to carry light for the horses and themselves to be more flexible). They mainly carry items that would slow a person down or prevent them from hurting other people, officer or civilian; not for killing. So a whip is absolutely redundant or even absurd to have.

Those long ropes the Troopers are holding are called reins, and they are designed for steering a horse (horses cannot move opposite of the direction of their head; where their head is pointed they move in that direction). They are not made for whipping people, but rather made to get the horse’s attention. That’s it.

I took the liberty of highlighting the reins in red for you all as well as their arms and legs in blue and yellow in contrast to the reins and saddle.

It's clear from a Texan's or horse-riders perspective this Trooper almost fell off catching the other fellow and was holding onto the left rein for dear life hence why the horse looked distressed and its cheek was pulled back.

I'm not joking, you fucking try it if you're so damn horse-smart.

Now, let's look at a more relaxed position.

In short, if you haven't ridden a horse, I advise to keep your comments to yourself on this part. I have and it's way harder than it looks (horses can get cocky).

Second thing, the migrants.

Personally, I don’t know why they were so squirrelly that day. Perhaps they were spooked because they’ve never expected horse back riders to show up, maybe they had some bad experiences back home.

I don’t know!

But it’s clear there appears to be a lack of communication. Perhaps it’s the language barrier given that these guys came from Haiti, African countries and Brazil. English they probably know, but they probably don’t speak a lick of Spanish (Which both languages are mandatory for the Border Patrol).

(Again, I don't know...)

So the reasons why they started running circles around the Troopers’ horses is not for me to speculate, it’s not for YOU to defend blindly, nor is it up for the media to interpret and evangelize.

That should be left to the people to explain. No one else.

(Update: September 29th. I received a tip from a source that the Haitian immigrants (mainly) are not running from anything, they aren’t seeking asylum nor were in poverty as the media claims. They have admitted upon interview they were what we consider middle-low class and had no issues finding jobs before they decided to migrate northward. They’re just coming because they were told to come by “you-know-who”… that’s all. I know, I’m taken aback and scratching my head, too… but anyway. I digress, but do take note.)

Now, another bit of feedback I want to share: When it comes to dealing with Troopers (again, must I remind you this is a Border Patrol agent’s kid speaking), big rule:

DO NOT RUN nor MAKE THREATENING MOVEMENTS. Be calm.

It’s a simple rule, if you’re cool with the Troopers they’ll be cool with you. That’s it. Please respectfully keep in mind, these guys are trained to be safe rather than sorry. So patience and understanding with them is a must. Trust me, I’ve met my parent’s co-workers, they may look stoic and scary or condescending, but they can not let personal emotions interfere their work otherwise they risk safety.

They’re not “paranoid” or “harsh” they just have a job they cannot afford to fuck up otherwise the whole region is FUCKED. They’re the front line of defense, and do keep that in mind.

(Another footnote: I have seen Border Patrol offices, and without giving away how they function it’s not like CIA or Langley level of clean or fancy, so don’t think their offices are high tech and have marble floors with comfy lounges that cost a lot of money. Upon first glance you won’t expect the building to be an office. Border Patrol work with what they have available which isn’t a lot thanks to the ’00, ’04, ’08, ’12 and current administrations. That’s all I can give out.)

I’m going to come clean here and say the citizens in the Rio Grande Valley and the rest of Texas DO NOT FEEL SAFE with a border this wide open and no regulation is applied. Especially the Hispanic/Latino communities. So the pressure is on - and I mean REALLY on! Despite these guys working the Border are overwhelmed, they keep those emotions and opinions on lockdown when on the field. Like I said: If they fuck up, the region is fucked.

Bit of a history lesson: the Border issues on the Rio Grande are not new. Matter of factly, this problem has been happening for decades (The popular peak was during the 80s when cocaine was being distributed), but it was more than just cocaine and pot: Kids were going missing, people getting killed, women were used as mules and sold for sex, etc.

If you watched “Narcos” or “Sicario” you have a brief, dramatized taste of how the cartels function and what life is like for us Latinos. However, coming from someone who grew up there, the parts of watching your back, the abductions and even the gruesome murders are legit. To this day I remember seeing local news coverage (not CNN or MSNBC, our own stations down in the McAllen/Brownsville area) of beheadings, child murders and bodies being found in pieces… It’s something I hope my children won’t have to grow up hearing almost weekly like I did. Now it’s daily… and no one cares. And that hurts.

In the grand scheme of things, at least know this: South Texas has been part of the Cartel battle grounds and it’s obvious we’ve seen shit. Constantly being ignored is the payment we get for being front lines in the Drug War. So don’t blame us for being jumpy, or skeptical, nor even try convince us that the current surplus of immigrants is a good thing.

You can’t argue with our own experiences and history. The way things work down here is simple: You fight along side us, we fight along side you.

It’s called building trust, practicing faith. But we’ve been forgotten and lied to too many times by celebrities and politicians and social movements alike. And those who actually were going to help us are either shut down or unfortunately killed.

We just can’t trust anyone anymore. We are resorting to fending for ourselves basically, speaking up for ourselves… and so far it’s making progress in the mean time.

This level of “doing things on your own” bleeds into why our Troopers are trained they way they are trained - to expect the worst case scenario. To prepare themselves for the corpses, when a criminal pounces, the drugs being hid, for when they find a child with an adult they don’t know, or even a woman who was violated. They just genuinely don’t want to take chances and you just read why. Even my in-laws up in the Northern Midwest are disturbed.

So, considering the case of what happened a few days ago in Del Rio, Texas (as of writing this on September 25th 2021): If you run from a Trooper the first thing they are going to think is either two things:

You did something bad upon coming in to the country or

You don’t want your former government to find you because you did crimes in your home country or the country you were hiding in.

This is protocol, not biased opinions.

If, however, a Trooper commits any form of irresponsibility (such as abusing their power, unreasonable search and seizures etc.) it’s “kiss your badge good-bye” and DEMOTED or FIRED. The stakes of keeping your job in the Border Patrol are HIGH, so they are trained not to act out of line. Even a minor slip up in paper work from being fatigued gets you in SEVERE trouble with the Higher Ups and the County (Yes, that does happen and has happened). But you have to KNOW Border Patrol standards before you accuse them of anything.

With that being said, what’s floating around is not a constructive argument; it’s a distraction. How the public is demanding the trooper in the photo to be fired, tells us Latinos loud and clear that - once again - no one cares about our livelihood; no one is willing to brave enough to face the real hell going on. We are ignored or low-key demonized for simply defending ourselves.

(Now, you guys are seeing why I relate to my Jewish husband and the Israeli’ citizens - Arab and Jew - more; we’re pretty much in the same boat in the case of being ignored. But I digress.)

Before I come to a conclusion, here are other demographic facts to keep in mind that way it’ll help draw conclusions:

86.6% of the Border Patrol is HISPANIC/LATINO in the State of Texas alone.

A majority of children stolen from their families or molested are HISPANIC/LATINO.

A majority of the women violated immigrants on the border are mainly HISPANIC/LATINO.

Latin America collectively (Mexico down to Colombia and Venezuela) has the highest rates of femicide in the world.

So for you or anyone to get angry at Border Patrol agents in an unjust manner, not only are you getting mad at Hispanics and Latinos in UNIFORM for fighting to keep their communities safe, but you are actively contributing to the hell our families go through every day.

When you protest in demand for our cops or even troopers to be defunded, and fired for petty things, YOU are actively contributing to the problem of human trafficking, rape, kidnappings and murder that happens on the border. You are contributing to the Hispanic and Latino communities being dismantled and disintegrated by people who potentially want to kill us or hate us for money’s sake.

Take all of that into consideration before you get angry at anyone here.

In short:

I’ll only consider the accusations if you yourselves have been there and know the burdens we bear.

I’ll only consider your judgement if you genuinely are in law enforcement and know how to ride a horse and try to stop someone from running while riding the beast.

I’ll only consider your feedback if you don’t rely heavily on news like CNN, Telemundo and Tumblr for your information.

Until you grab a gun and fight the cartel yourself, and figure out a way to end this war on human trafficking, don’t come to us Latinos and express that you care and appreciate us.

Because frankly if you GENUINELY did, you’d bring to light what I just said and be slamming the desks at D.C. and DEMANDING the Border to be CLOSED by now.

Regardless of your political and personal beliefs, this is what is REALLY going on, and we’re going to keep fighting. Like the Israeli’s we don’t give a fuck if you hate us. We’re not radicals, we’re not blood-thirsty heathens, we’re not white supremacists (80+% of our population is of Latino Mexican descent) we’re just fed up with running away and being taken advantage of or taken for granted by people who value money over the lives of our neighbors.

If this were California, fine! Rail all you want, cuss us out as much as you want; hold us to those to California standards you keep yourself. But we’re not California.

We’re not D.C., nor Chicago, nor L.A., or New York, Florida, Canada, Mexico or whatever. We are SOUTH TEXAS so treat us as SOUTH TEXAS.

Honor us for who we are and hold us to the standards of what is SOUTH TEXAS, what is The United States Constitution, and the Texas Constitution; nothing more and nothing less. Don’t tear us down for what we’re not nor hold us accountable to an opinion or law we never agreed to nor knew existed.

That’s all I ask: If you’re not willing to honour our community and help us while holding us to our standards on a cultural, State or Federal level, back the fuck off. Generations we’ve dealt with the pressure from both the cartel and corrupt government from both the U.S. and Mexico, and the last thing we need is pampered kids living in the high rises or going to university on loans from school or your parents' paychecks, telling us how to deal with our issues.

You are FAR from a place to tell us how to function and resolve our war.

I’m not trying nor want to start a fight or otherwise, but I’m simply, humbly asking: when did we ever genuinely ask you “social justice advocates” to be our hero?

When did we ever ask you to fight for us or talk about what you think is wrong with us? Because last I checked we don’t want to drag anyone into our battles.

Also, we only know one messiah, but we never asked you to be him nor for him to act like you.

Did you start throwing punches because you wanted to find something to excuse your anger and outbursts, or is your good intentions married with ignorance?

Either case… it’s extremely unhealthy of you, and please just stop before another person gets hurt. We don’t want that. This is no different from the Crusades our ancestors took part in, and it will only end in more carnage than already sown.

So, just please, stop and take a step back for a moment. We don’t need anymore vehement evangelical-like people who just think with their ideals and not take a moment to have a healthy discussion with the One who created us, or let alone divorce their lust for a fight for ten seconds.

To close this off, even though I haven’t been home in a while, I know the spirit and the struggles the Rio Grande Valley goes through. I have met people on the run from the cartel first hand, and I have met people who may have ties with the cartel. I have seen some creepy shit, I have grown frustrated over the Protestant Baptist church doing nothing, and I have even been feeling the pressure my parent goes through with these apathetic riots threatening their job as a Border Patrol agent.

But aside from the pain, I am tremendously blessed that people and my family are still very optimistic despite the craziness and how bleak things are.

The family-oriented culture of the Rio Grande Valley is what is keeping it together… not trends, not clout and neither these guys in D.C. or Hollywood who are playing G-d.

It's the family-oriented connection. Our faith, that's keeping us going.

And even though I may not be the best voice of that region to speak up, I am blessed to have been there and I do plan on coming back soon.

I am planning on giving a more fun journal featuring the culture of the Rio Grande Valley in the future to finish this month off, but for the sake of this “Hispanic Heritage Month” I wanted to share our REAL issues we deal with rather than the made up ones that media likes to mainstream for money and clout.

In a way, I hope this offers clarity and a level of empathy. Again, I’m not sharing this to start fights or get sympathy - we don’t want it. We just want to know if our fights are not ignored, we just want to know we are heard.

That’s all.

[rafecameron]

A Fall From Grace (2)

Summary: When Rafe loses everything he’s ever known he doesn’t know what to do with himself. With no home, no family and no money he finds himself wandering the cut, lost and desperate. He has to start fresh, get a job of his own and find somewhere to live. He’s determined to make it big, show his dad what he’s made of. Does he get his old life back? Or does he find something along the way that means a lot more than a large bank balance and a mansion.

Pairing: rafe cameron x female!oc <- find out about her!

Warnings: hurt, angst, slight depression, smut, swearing, drinking

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I’m so sorry it took me so long to update guys I kind of got distracted with other things but it’s here!

                                                         Icarus

Allie hoped that the rest of the week wouldn’t be nearly as draining but Rafe did everything in his power to make sure it was. Considering he told her how much he needed this job he sure was doing his best to lose it.

“Rafe, what are you doing?” She sighs, arms crossed as she watched the boy lean against the counter, his back to the front door as he scrolled across his phone and bit into a chocolate bar.

“Watching the desk.” Rafe replies with a mouthful, his eyes not leaving the screen of his phone.

“You have your back to the door and please, stop eating the stock.” Allie runs her hands through her hair, the stress of trying to control the wayward boy getting too much.

“No one’s here, it’s fine.” Rafe replies nonchalantly.

“It’s not fine!” She raises her voice, finally snapping, Rafe slowly looks up from his phone and over to her in shock, “It’s not fine at all! I hired you so I would have less work to do but I ended up with more work because now I’m a babysitter too! You don’t take his job seriously, you’re always on your phone and complaining and eating things off the shelf! You’re wasting my time and money!” Her shoulders drop and she shakes her head, “Just… turn around at least.” She groans before heading into the back and into her office.

Allie slumps down into her chair, her head falling into her hands, her elbows propped up on the desk as she let out a frustrated groan. Three days. That’s all it had been and she was already at her breaking point. She didn’t know how much longer she could put up with the boy, never one to deal with stress very well. She almost expected him to follow her into the back and argue with her but she was thankful he didn’t.

For the past three days he had done nothing but complain and eat her stock, without asking her she might add. He hadn’t even been serving the customers, too engrossed in his phone to even realise they were waiting to pay, so she’d had to take over from him. She knew what she had to do, she’d have to let him go. Even going back to running this place on her own was better than making herself ill trying to manage the kook. So it was decided, after his shift she’d pay him what she owed him for the week and tell him not to come back. A part of her almost felt bad but she reminded herself that he didn’t really need this job so she had no reason to feel bad for firing him.

---

Allie stayed hidden away for the remaining two hours of the day, stringing seashells on thin wire into necklaces to put in the shop. She had always made things to sell ever since she was younger. Shell jewellery, little wooden knick knacks, it was something she did to relax and they were the kind of things tourists loved so they sold well. At ten to five she finally left the sanctuary of her office and went back into the shop, glad to see Rafe hadn’t destroyed the place while she was hidden away.

“Rafe.” She calls, the boy turning around to look at her as he ran a cloth over the glass counter, “I don’t think this is working.”

Rafe’s mouth opens slightly then closes again as he thinks of what to say, “But...What? Are you firing me?”

Allie nods her head, “Yes, I’ll get the money I owe you and then that’s it, I can’t keep you here it’s too much work.”

“No, please.” Rafe drops the cloth and hurries over to her, “Please I really need this job, don’t fire me.”

“You don’t act like you need it! I’m sorry but I’ve made up my mind, you’ll be fine it’s not like you actually need the money.” She sighs moving around him to the cash register to get his wages out.

“I do! I do need the money, please.” He grabs her arm and turns her towards him and she doesn’t fail to notice the fear in his eyes, “My dad he - uh, well he wants me to pay rent. Be more responsible I guess. You’re the only place that was hiring.”

She looks him over and he can tell she’s still debating with herself, “Please.” He says again, his hand still holding onto her arm, “I’ll try better, I promise. I won't even bring my phone in tomorrow.”

Allie studies him for a moment before letting out a sigh and shutting the register, “Your last chance. I swear Rafe, one more thing and you’re out.”

When Allie had first told him if he didn’t behave she would fire him he hadn’t believed her, but now he knew she was serious and the thought of losing this job was more than enough to scare him into trying harder. The boy was finding it almost impossible to get out of the mentality that he could do anything he wanted. He never realised it could be so hard to change aspects of yourself like that. So he stuck to his word and left his phone in the motel room the next day, knowing that if he had it in his pocket he wouldn’t be able to control himself from going on it.

---

Allie hadn’t spoken more than a couple of words to him the whole morning and he pretended not to care. He didn’t want to admit that she was the only person he spoke to now. His friends all but abandoned him the moment his dad kicked him out. Now he spent his time on social media watching them doing the things he wanted to do. He found it was true what they say, that money can’t buy friends. Now he understood that no one on figure eight was truly friends with each other, all they cared about was money and status. He longed to have that back. He didn’t care if no one really liked him. He wanted his fake friends, his yacht, his vacations in the Bahamas and his golfing days. He wanted it all back more than anything and he felt the bitterness growing inside any time he saw someone from the other side of the island. He imagined this is how the pogues felt and almost felt bad for all the times he’d beat on them. Almost.

---

That evening he was feeling even more sorry for himself than usual, the panic of almost losing his job the day before helping him to realise just how desperate he was right now. He also never realised how much he liked talking, not talking to anyone besides telling customers how much they owed made him feel lonelier than ever. He sat in the worn out chair in the corner of his motel room, his eyes not leaving the peeling yellow wallpaper as he stewed in self pity. He hadn’t eaten today, he should have been hungry but he wasn’t. He knew he was losing weight and that he should take care of himself better but he couldn’t be bothered. The enthusiasm he’d had to be a self made success had dwindled away in a matter of days. Now all that was left was emptiness. He had no motivation. He didn’t want to eat or sleep. He definitely didn’t want to go back to work on monday.

Even on his lowest days on figure eight, the days where he thought his life was shit and wanted nothing more than to run away, they held nothing against what he felt now. His life really was shit and he felt like a selfish bastard for taking everything for granted before. If he could have it all back he would be a better person. He’d be nicer to his sisters and stop arguing with his step mom. But it wasn’t going to happen.

---

He spent the weekend in his room, laying in his bed motionless, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling trying to will himself to get up and do something. Anything. But he couldn’t. By the time Monday rolled back around he was nothing but an empty shell. He hadn’t found the energy to wash his clothes - or himself - so Allie was more than a little surprised with the sight she saw waiting for her outside the store.

“Rafe?” She asks, keys in her hand ready to open up but she pauses in front of the disheveled boy, “Are you...okay?”

Rafe’s eyes meet hers, his usual vibrant blue more of a dull grey, any happiness that had been there before long gone, “I’m fine.” He answers, his voice quiet and tired, “A rough weekend.” He attempts a smile but Allie thinks it looks more like a grimace.

“I’ll make you a coffee.” She tells him as she finally pushes her key into the door. She wanted to push further, knowing he was far from fine. But Allie knew that Rafe Cameron was not the kind of person you should push at so for now she left it.

She set the mug of coffee in front of the boy in the break room, sitting down across from him with her own. They sat in silence, Allie studying the boy across from her. Physically Rafe was here, but she could tell that’s as far as his presence went. He was staring down at the mug in his hands, the coffee left to go cold untouched. She sat with him for an hour, well past her usual opening time, waiting to see if he would talk. But he didn’t, so she left him in the break room and went to open up.

Once Rafe emerged from the back she sent him to restock shelves seeing as he was in no fit state to run the front counter. He looked a mess. His hair was greasy and his clothes hadn’t been washed. She couldn’t help but watch him the whole day, wondering what was going on inside his head while he quietly stacked shelves.

She never thought she would feel sorry for someone like Rafe, but she’d also never seen someone who looked so broken. She didn’t like it. She may not have liked Rafe but no one deserves to be in that state. She wanted him to smirk at her, call her a pogue and tell her she's a waste of space, but he didn’t. He just gave her another attempt at a smile and told her he’d see her tomorrow.

---

When the boy turned up the next day looking no better than the day before Allie knew she had to say something. She sat him down in the back, making sure he drank his coffee this time before she began to try and figure out what was going on with him.

“Have you showered, Rafe?” She asks quietly.

Rafe lifts his shoulders in the smallest shrug she’d ever seen, “I don’t remember.” He admits.

Allie could tell the truth just by looking at him. “Have you slept?” She tried, though again the dark bags beneath his tired eyes told her all she needed to know, “Eaten?” She prodded.

Rafe looks up at her, no words leaving his mouth. He watched the girl in front of him, he’d never seen someone look at him with so much pity in their eyes, usually it would make him angry, but today it just broke him more. He only realised the tears were falling down his face when Allie wiped them away with a tissue, he hadn’t even noticed her get up.

“Rafe.” The girl sighs, sitting on the table in front of him, his head in her hands as her own eyes filled with tears at the sight, “Please talk to me. This is not like you, something is really wrong and it helps to talk.”

Rafe shook his head, wiping harshly at the tears on his cheeks, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Allie whispers, “You haven’t showered, haven’t slept, probably haven’t eaten. You haven’t called me a pogue in two days so I know somethings wrong.”

Allie pulls his head against her chest and lets him cry on her, his tears wetting through her shirt but she didn’t care. She held him for as long as he needed, only speaking when the tears had finally subsided.

“Is it something happening at home?” She asks, Rafe nods against her chest. “C’mon.” Allie pulls herself out of Rafe’s grasp and hops off the table.

“What?” Rafe asks, his voice hoarse from the crying.

“We’re going back to mine. You can shower and I’ll make us some lunch.” She tells him as she throws her bag over her shoulder.

“Lunch? We haven’t even opened yet.” Rafe stays seated at the table, confusion clearly written across his face.

“It’s almost twelve.” Allie tells him, Rafe hadn’t realised he’d been crying for so long and felt embarrassment wash over his body, “The shop can stay closed until tomorrow. Perks of owning it.” She smiles and moves forward, tugging on his hand.

As much as Rafe wants to complain out of embarrassment at her feeling sorry for him he doesn’t, he’s glad to be going somewhere other than this shop or his shitty motel room. Allie walks to and from work everyday, seeing as she only lives about ten minutes away. She talks on the walk, chatting away about mind numbing things to fill the silence, she doesn’t mind that Rafe doesn’t respond.

---

“Here’s a towel.” She holds it out to him as she opens the door to the bathroom, “I can wash your clothes for you, if you want? But you will have to sit in your towel until the dryers done.”

Rafe chucks his clothes out to her and she balls them up, crinkling her nose as she holds them out in front of her. She stuffs them into the washing machine, putting them on a quick wash. She leans her back against the kitchen counter, running her fingers through her hair as she tries to figure out what to do. She knew Rafe wasn’t going to openly admit what his problem was and she should just let him shower, eat and then send him on his way. But that just felt...wrong.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but something was telling her she needed to help him. Whether it was a sixth sense or just her kind nature she wasn’t sure, but she knew she couldn’t let him walk out of her house before she had a chance to help fix whatever had happened.

Allie was sure she would feel awkward with Rafe in her house but she didn’t. Even with him sat at her kitchen table with nothing but a towel around his waist tucking into a large bowl of pasta she didn’t feel awkward. “Are you still hungry?” She asks after he’d finished his food in record time, he quickly shook his head.

The girl quirked a brow at him and grabbed his bowl, putting some more pasta into it before setting it down again. He smiled gratefully at her and tucked in.

“Your clothes shouldn’t be too long, I put them on the quickest settings.” Allie tells him as she places her bowl in the sink, leaving it to be washed up later.

“Thank you. I-I appreciate it.” Rafe mumbles, eyes downcast as he thanks her.

“Rafe. I know we’re not exactly friends and don’t even really like each other but, if you want to talk about anything-“ Allie stops talking when Rafe quickly shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t even know what that was.” Rafe, he waves his hand around referring to his little episode earlier, he smiles at her hoping he looks convincing but he didn’t in the slightest, “It’s just home things.” He sighs.

“Well...you can stay here tonight, if you want? I can make the couch up for you, so you don’t have to go home?” She offers. She’s not entirely sure why she offered. She was sure if it really was bad enough he’d go spend the night at one of his friends, but I still felt like the right thing to do.

“You’d let me?” Rafe asks more than a little surprised. When Allie nods her head he agrees to stay the night, thanking her and offering to do the washing up.

Allie is the last person Rafe wanted to tell about his situation, he didn’t want her finding out that he was living in a motel room. He could barely cope with her pity as it was let alone if she actually found out the truth.

That evening Rafe settled down on the small couch, and even though it was lumpy and hard he had the best night sleep in weeks.

tags: @royalmerchant @solllaris @rudyypankow @softstarkey @outerbankslut @butgilinsky @stfukie @stargazingstarkey @bohemianobx @obxmermaid @popeheywards @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @skiesofthesketchy @rekrappeter @perkeusjackson @bricksatanakinswindow @cordeliascrown @aaleksmorozova @starlightstarkey @rafej-cambanks @joshy-obx

[jjmaybanksblog]

Could you do a Sarah Cameron imagine with 111,160,162,176? if your requests are still open of course😌❤️

Overnight Stay- Sarah Cameron

Could you do a Sarah Cameron imagine with 111,160,162,176? if your requests are still open of course😌❤️

Word count: 1,332

Summary: Instead of the boys leaving Kie with Sarah on a boat overnight, they to let you two get rid of your grievances first. 

Warnings: Cursing, use of marijuana

Prompts:

111. “I’ll kill you, you sick bastard. I’ll kill you, you’re a fucking monster who deserves to die.”

160. “Stop fighting!”

162. “Please, just give me a break. I’ve been so busy, trying so fucking hard- I’m doing the best I can. Please, please don’t ask more of me.”

176. “I will not leave you. No matter how hard it gets or how rough things are, I will always be here. I will not leave you.”

"Okay, what happened?" You sighed, stepping onto the boat to see the two boys poking and prodding at the mechanics. "Uh, the alternators not alternating anymore." You rolled your eyes at JJ. "It's not charged." John B explained. "Did you check the plugs?" You asked, a silence filling the space around you guys. 

"You guys are so useless, are you kidding me?" You asked, looking into the engine of the boat. The boys snuck out through the door as you inspected the mechanics. "You guys are shitting me, right? There are no plugs…" you trailed off, your head looking up at the sound of water splashing from in front of the boat.

"Motherfuckers." You snapped, running towards them. Stopping in your tracks when you heard a familiar voice coming from below you. You slid open a compartment to see Sarah Cameron's face. "What? Wait." She mumbled, stepping out of the space. "You're fucking lying." You ran to the edge of the boat to see John B and JJ getting onto Pope's boat. 

"Are you serious?" Sarah yelled out from next to you. "Get your asses back here!" You begged, knuckled turning white from gripping the boat so hard. "We can't. Not until you two figure it out." John B shouted to the girls. 

" “I’ll kill you, you sick bastard. I’ll kill you, you’re a fucking monster who deserves to die, John B!" You yelled. "Y-you can't just leave!" Sarah tried, earning an eye roll from just her voice. "Oh yeah like that's gonna stop them from leaving." You scoffed at her. "You're the one who got us into the mess I just got dragged into it." She mumbled, stripping her clothes off to reveal her bikini underneath. 

"I'm not the one-" John B interrupted you, "stop fighting! There's food in the cabin, and JJ rolled a blunt." John B informed the girls as if it made the situation any better. You accepted the fact that there was no getting out of this. Even if you tried to swim, there would be some sort of obstacle that would get in your way. Swimming back home would take at least 2 hours because you get tired easily. Plus you never know what's in these waters.

You flipped the trio of boys off before watching Sarah jump into the water. "Dude, you don't know what's in the waters!" You tried to warn her, "I don't care, I'd rather drown than be on a boat with you." She seethed, swimming towards the boys who were already speeding away. "John B! No, come back!" She begged. You rolled your eyes as you sat on the ground of the boat. 

You laid on your back, hearing the splashing of the water drift away from you. You chuckled as you heard Sarah shout in defeat before swimming back to the boat. You shot up at the sound of her letting out a painful shout, standing up you saw her at the boats ladder, inspecting the jellyfish stings on her torso. "I told you." You commented before holding your hand out for her to grab to pull her into the boat. She sent you a death stare before pushing past her hand and laying on the boat.

"Okay, that's cool too." You sighed. "Y/N, you know what you have to do. You have to pee on me." She hissed in pain, a disgusted look on your face. "See, I could. Or we can get rid of the pain the fun way." You said, pulling a blunt out of a box JJ left for you two. She joined your side, whimpering as she adjusted in her spot.

You lit the end of the blunt, taking a few puffs before exhaling the smoke. You passed the blunt to her, watching her eyes switch from the weed to you. "Just trust me, the only thing you'll feel is like you're drifting through the water." She put the joint up to her lips and inhaled, immediately coughing out all the smoke. You rolled your eyes and leaned back, grabbing a water bottle for her. You handed it to her as she took another hit, this time keeping it for longer before exhaling. "There you go!" 

You two passed the joint around until it died out, the sky now setting with beautiful pink and orange colors. "So why do you hate me?" You bursted out randomly, killing the silence between you two. She furrowed her eyebrows, her eyes not leaving the sky above as she could see you looking at her. "I never did hate you, I thought you were the one who hated me." She admitted, finally looking at you, pulling out blankets for you two as the night slowly fell.

You thanked you quietly as she also passed you a pillow. "Remember back in 8th grade, when you started talking to that guy Seth?" You started, nodding her head as she watched awkwardly shift in your spot. "I was really happy for you, you were my best friend and I supported everything you did. But when you started dating Seth, you spent all your time with him." You inhaled, "and I know this will sound selfish, but I wanted you with me. I'd invite you to the mall but you said you were busy with him. Everytime I asked you to hang out, you were always with Seth. To the point where I just gave up because it seemed to me that you were perfectly happy with him."

Sarah bit her bottom lip harshly, tucking her knees up to her chest. "And when I brought it up with you, you were doing nothing wrong but I got angry and I flipped my shit at you for no reason. The last words you said to me was, “Please, just give me a break. I’ve been so busy, trying so fucking hard- I’m doing the best I can. Please, please don’t ask more of me." And I- I just felt horrible for even bringing it up." You finished, exhaling as silence filled the air up again.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sarah mumbled, fully turning around to face you. You shrugged your shoulders, "you were happy. I didn't wanna seem like the jealous best friend, even though I kinda was." You muttered the last few words silently, realizing the whole reason you two stopped being friends was your fault. "And now that I'm admitting it I feel so shitty." You finished. 

"I'm sorry I spent so much time with him Y/N, I guess I was too infatuated with him. I was a stupid guy obsessed preteen. I mean- I guess the only thing that's changed now is that I'm actually a teen." You two giggled with each other before she asked, "did you hear what happened after we broke up?" You looked at her with a shy grin before breaking out laughing.

"You did not!" She gasped. Nodding your head you looked at her, "oh but I did!" "You were the one that keyed his car, egged his house, AND signed him up for the STD testing texts?" She broke out giggling as she continued to feel the drugs kick in her system. "That was literally the best night I've had in my life." 

Your heart felt like it was filled with joy when you realized you and Sarah Cameron were laughing together, like nostalgia hit you in the face. You looked at her with a content grin on your face, "what?" "It feels good, laughing with you again." She nodded her head and laid down, tucking her hand underneath the pillow. 

"So we're friends again?" She asked, watching as you laid down as well. "Oh absolutely. Which means, I will not leave you. No matter how hard it gets or how rough things are, I will always be here. I will not leave you. All I ask is that you don't break John B's heart." 

"I wouldn't even think about it." You grinned at her words before snuggling into your blanket. "Were you also the one who put instant mashed potatoes in his front yard, knowing it was going to rain the next day?" You covered your grin with the blanket, nodding your head earing a playful shriek from her.

"Goodnight Y/L/N." She whispered, letting her eyes flutter shut. "Goodnight Cameron."

[shitsngiggles666]

I am not one to use social media, but this whole sh*t show is something I will not take sitting down. I’ve seen some messed up things on the internet, but the cyberbullying by the “Camily” is really disturbing me. Before I get to my criticisms and thoughts, I will briefly address Luke Deacon. The allegations against him are not without evidence, namely from a public social media account. One of these allegations is very serious, and can be considered “revenge p*rn which can actually lead to charges in the UK. I’m not sure if it’s the same in the UK, but in my country Luke can be legally labeled as a sex offender if convicted! This is all I know of the situation but since many of Luke’s fans are underage girls who are also fans of Queen and the Bohemian Rhapsody movie I don’t feel this issue can be totally ignored. I consider Luke “innocent until proven guilty”, as I am an inhabitant of Freedom Land. The first issue I will address is both of Cam’s parents, as I want to discuss them before the “Camily” as they’re not directly involved with the cyber bullying, at least to my knowledge. I admit that I have never met John or Veronica Deacon. I have no knowledge of the intimate details of their family life, and their parenting skills. I do have a fair amount of knowledge of John‘s time with Queen as he is my favorite surviving member of Queen. I find researching his life and trying to understand someone who seems an overlooked and complex figure in music. Yes, John is Cam’s father and to me he’s an interest, a subject I enjoy learning and trying to understand him like I do with other things I’m interested in. Meanwhile, to Cameron he is “dad”. I understand that it must be hard seeing people on the internet either make untrue statements or discuss aspects of one’s father that isn’t flattering. I get it, But Leopard (my nickname for the victim) made it clear when replying to asks that she doesn’t know things and addressed when discussions involved speculation or rumors. She also made it very clear that she didn’t like discussing John’s competence as a father and his children. These subjects made her uncomfortable but she still addressed them in a respectful way. John Deacon was a part of one of the biggest bands in the world. People are going to discuss him. Leopard didn’t do anything wrong. She admitted that John Deacon had flaws but was still sure to admit that she doesn’t know the whole story. I think her attitude is reasonable. I saw the stream the night Cam’s parents came on stream. At first I saw it quite humorous with a boomer bumbling in, ignoring his surroundings. He almost seemed senile. But as the stream went on things got uncomfortable and my attitude changed. Cam’s parents were doing the right thing as loving parents. They came over because Cam has a history of not managing his diabetes properly. His father (his mother explained) was becoming worried about his son’s glucose levels and tried to contact him. When he wouldn’t pick up his phone his father became worried and the two went over. Cameron was peeved and rude to them. I don’t think John cared about if people on the internet saw him. He was too focused on making sure his son wasn’t in danger and that his phone was charged. He only left when he knew his son’s levels weren’t too low and his phone was charging. He even mentioned off screen that he brought some treats (I have no idea what he said, and if it was a favorite sweet or what) from the store. I’m just making an observation of a stranger peeking in, but I think it’s clear John adores his son. Maybe the scant bit of interaction I observed of John Deacon as a person (instead of Queen’s bassist) was of a devoted father who was telling his adult son “I love you, I want you to be happy and I will be devastated if anything happened to you” without saying it verbally. People have different ways of showing their love. I know (per interviews with John) he experienced loss at a very young age when his father passed away. I don’t know John’s personal thoughts and relationship with Freddie Mercury and how his death affected him personally, but watching someone’s health decline due to AIDS is probably an upsetting and unforgettable experience. I bring these two examples up because this to me suggests Cam’s dad knows first hand how delicate and precious life is, wisdom that Cam seems blissfully unaware of due to his disregard of his parents’ anxiety. Cam obviously knows his father better than I can ever, but sometimes it’s good to have a different perspective. On to Mama Deacon. Yes, she was shouting at her adult son while he was live on stream. Like Cam’s father, she was completely in the right. When she said they were making sure Cam “wasn’t dead” and that Cam’s life was at stake, she was not being overly dramatic. If a diabetic’s blood sugar is too low their body can actually go into shock and than into a coma. If one doesn’t manage their diabetes this can happen and it can kill you. Diabetes is a life threatening condition. I’m not a diabetic, and I’m sure it sucks and isn’t easy to manage. Cameron is an adult at 27. His parents will not always be around to help him. If he wants to live by himself his priority should be learning to manage his diabetes without his parents’ help. His life literally depends on it. His glucose levels is far more important than his streaming career. Until he proves he can consistently manage himself to them his glucose levels are their business. Additionally, since they pay for his flat it’s technically their’s and thus can come over when ever they want. If anyone was being “inappropriate” it was Cam. His mother carried him for nine months, at age 43. For a woman her age, pregnancy can be risky and very hard on her body. She has cared for her son’s health issues, helped him through school and has loved him unconditionally. She seems to have done everything she can to protect Cam and pushed him to be the best person he can be. And this is only what I’m aware of. At her age, she should only leave her home when completely necessary to protect herself from Covid-19, for she is in the age group most at risk. Her son wouldn’t even leave his chair to greet her. Do you know how my parents would react to me if I acted the way Cam did Sunday? Most people can only dream about the privileges Cam has. Again, I don’t know everything about Cam’s life but what I saw was a mother and father trying to do what is best for their son. If Cam is so concerned about his parents’ privacy, why didn’t he turn off his stream? He could’ve even walked off to talk to his parents rather than continuing to play and yelling at them from his chair? This whole situation can be solved simply by Cam answering his phone, keeping it charged or even walking off camera to talk to his parents rather than barking orders from his screen. As I said earlier, to them their son seems more important to them rather than their privacy. Cam makes such a big deal over their privacy but I think he also has to respect his parents’ feelings and all that they do for him. Part of respecting them should include making a better effort to take care of himself. Five hours without food excepting a bowl of cereal could give me low blood sugar to the point of trembling and not being able to concentrate. Since Cam did just that, maybe his parents’ concern of his blood sugar is not without merit. Cam mentions his mental health issues and depression. One of the ways to help stabilize his mood would be stabilizing his blood sugar. The Camily should consider my words as they criticized Cam’s parents’ behavior. I have addressed the Mama and Papa elephant in the room, I will now focus mainly on Cam’s “Camily”. Due to time restraints, I will address the Camily in a later post. In the mean time, there is a difference between “haters” and critics. A hater says things simply to hurt or insult. A critic disagrees for a reason. If anyone thinks I’m a hater that needs to be “bunny blocked” go right ahead. I don’t care what strangers, many of them children think of me. I think bunnies are cute. Send me bunny emojis if you all think I’m spreading hate. This will only lend more evidence that the Camily is leading an internet harassment campaign. BTW I have been owned by pet rabbits since I was seven. Let me tell you, Mr. Bunny is unhappy to know his good name and image is being used as a symbol to bully. No, I am not jealous of Cam. I am proud of my family and wouldn’t trade them for any other. My dad has a profession I consider noble and was the one who raised me. The same goes for my mother. My extended and nuclear family includes firemen, a priest, nurses, teachers, librarians, a researcher studying cancer, a lawyer and engineers. None are famous but I don’t care. They are good people and it doesn’t matter how much the public knows about them or how much they earn. What matters to me is that they work hard and have a strong moral character. If you do wish to harass me, I ask of one thing. Show my post to Cameron Deacon and have him read my post (and any later ones I hope to soon put up) on his Livestream. If Cameron thinks I’m being a bully or am wrong about anything, please have him show this to his parents, the two people who love him more than anyone else does. If they think I’m wrong about anything or am bullying their son, have them PM me so we can discuss. Do not bully anyone who posts or likes this.

[eberles]

Love, Rafe ♡

Part 4 - Boston

Rafe Cameron x OC

A/N: For those of you who have seen Love, Rosie you know that when Alex meets Sally, everything pretty much fast forwards about 5 years or so? So this chapter is A LOT. Anyways I hope you enjoy reading! ☺️ 

as some of you know, tumblr doesn’t want Love, Rafe on any of the OBX tags, so if you like it please reblog it 🥺it means a lot to me!

Warnings: angst, swearing

Part One Part Two Part Three

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“Hi yea, I think we have a class together right? I’m Zoe!” she responded smiling and accepting his handshake. Zoe had to admit she came to this bar to sit alone and drink until she wasn’t sad about Rafe anymore, but seeing Nate did lift her sprits quite a bit. 

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

It’s been one year since Zoe met Nate in that bar in Boston and in that year they have moved in together. Zoe kept in contact with Rafe of course, sending gifts for Christmases and birthdays for him and baby Katie, but they haven’t actually seen each other at all. Zoe and Nate sent rafe Christmas cards with their photos on them to which Rafe rolled his eyes at, but Zoe always loved receiving Christmas cards with pictures of Rafe and baby Katie. She even hung them up as decorations around Christmas time despite Nate’s open dislike towards it. Nate often looked down on Rafe and his friendship with Zoe, but he was just a jealous man deep down. They often video chatted and when they couldn’t they would just send videos to each other and respond when they could. 

This went on for the next 5 years. Baby Katie was no longer a baby anymore, in fact, she could ride a bike on her own and she was about to start kindergarten! Rafe was doing good with Katie and now that she was able to go to school Rafe could finally get a stable job working with his father relearning the business he once knew in high school. Rafe wasn’t dating anyone but he definitely didn’t frown on having few one night stands every now and then. 

Zoe’s life was not nearly as perfect as it looked to the outside world. Sure, her and Nate lived in a perfect Boston apartment, but little did everyone know that that same apartment was where they spent a lot of time fighting. Mostly fights about stupid stuff like Zoe’s hair clogging the shower drain and if Zoe turned the heat up before asking Nate about it first, but he was always quick to blow up. One of those pointless late night fights is what led to Zoe texting Rafe telling him she missed him and wanted him to come visit and now that Katie was old enough to leave with his parents for more than a few hours, he said yes. 

It was just a few days later when Zoe met Rafe at an airport in Boston and of course the moment she saw him walking through the gates with his bags she ran up to him. Rafe spotted her running and dropped his bags while opening his arms waiting for Zoe to run into them and she did, along with lifting her legs and wrapping them around Rafe’s waist to give him the tightest hug ever. They were both smiling like crazy and everyone was staring at them in the middle of the airport. 

“I missed you!” Zoe said as Rafe put her back down on the ground.

“So, are you tired, hungry?” Zoe asked Rafe was they started moving through the airport.

“No..why?” Rafe asked her skeptically. He was right to be skeptical because they ended up at a rave with a few of Zoe’s friends from college. They had a really amazing night filled with alcohol, dancing, jumping around, swimming in a pool fully clothed. The two of them didn’t get any sleep that night; once the sun started to come up they ended up walking around the streets of Boston doing some sightseeing and touristy adventures. They ended up in Boston Commons laying on the grass just catching up on life. 

“I don’t regret Katie, ya know? She’s the most amazing kid. The only weird thing is that she reminds me more of you than Olivia, but I think that’s because I love her.” Rafe spoke as he started to move closer to Zoe. They were both laying in the grass but their faces were closer than ever. Rafe looked between Zoe’s eyes and lips a few times before deciding to lean in for a kiss. Zoe pulled away before their lips could connect and sighed quietly.

“We should go.” Zoe whispered and Rafe nodded in response. Since they had been out all night Zoe thought it would be nice to bring Rafe back to her apartment. Upon walking into the apartment, they saw Nate sitting on the stairs as if he was waiting for Zoe.

“Uh, Nate this is Rafe, Rafe meet Nate.” Zoe said politely looking between the two.

“Good morning.” Nate sighed out and retreated back upstairs to their shared room giving Zoe and Rafe a chance to exchange a side glance. The evening was about to get more tense however. Nate loved to cook so he thought it would be best to have a fun family dinner with his sister, Rafe, and Zoe. Rafe and Zoe sat next to each other across from Nate and his sister. He prepared an extremely posh meal in which Rafe felt he was too ‘normal’ to eat.

“Wow, you guys eat like this all the time?” Rafe asked.

“No, just when we have special guests.” Nate responded with no emotion in his voice.

“Well, it looks delicious.” Rafe added, trying to soften the tension in the air. Nate smiled slightly at his response, but you could tell he didn’t care very much what Rafe thought of his food. A few minutes of awkward silence goes by before Nate’s phone rings and Zoe isn’t surprised when he leaves dinner to answer it.

“Who was that?” Zoe asked with a raised eyebrow when he returned to the table.

“Can we just talk about it later, please?” Nate said quietly trying to keep their business out of Rafe’s ears.

“No, tell me now, Nate.” Zoe said getting a little angry, she knew who it was and she wanted Nate to say it.

“It was Melissa, okay? For fucks sakes, you can never leave anything alone!” Nate started off quiet but he yelling by the end of his sentence. It didn’t take long for him to abruptly stand up from the table and throw his dish in the sink breaking it in the process, before he stormed off.

“Who is Melissa?” Rafe asked Zoe quietly.

“The girl Nate cheated on me with a few months ago.” Zoe whispered, trying to wrap her brain around the fact it was happening again, but she had a gut feelings when he ran off to answer the phone. Nate would’ve never done that if it were anyone else calling which is why she pushed for him to tell her who it was. Zoe knew she should’ve told Rafe when it happened, but she was embarrassed and Nate promised it was over and then it didn’t mean anything. Rafe didn’t ask anymore questions even though he had about a dozen more upon hearing her answer. 

“Well, at least we still have that art show to go to later!” Nate’s sister spoke out once Nate returned back downstairs with the rest of you. Although the art show wasn’t exactly good either. It didn’t take long for Rafe to get fed up with the lies around him and storm out, but he didn’t expect Zoe to leave Nate’s side and follow him out.

“Rafe! Where are you going?” Zoe yelled out, following Rafe down the side walk.

“I’m going back to Outer Banks, Zoe! I shouldn’t be here and you know that!” Rafe said back while raising his arms up in the air as he turned around to face Zoe.

“Rafe, what? Everything’s fine, Nate and I act like that all the time.” Zoe breathed out once she caught up to him.

“Oh that’s great, i’m so glad you’re fine, but i’m not, we were out together all night Zoe, and you didn’t even tell me your boyfriend is cheating on you! Why am I here, Zoe? So you can get back at him?” Rafe questioned her.

“You’re here because I wanted to see you! Jesus, you’re my best friend!” Zoe yelled back, getting defensive. 

“Or maybe you needed someone that you know well enough to point out what’s right in front of you.” Rafe spoke, trying to be gentle with Zoe.

“What are you even talking about, Rafe?” Zoe said while slumping her shoulders down, already exhausted from this conversation.

“This entire thing is so fucked up, Zoe! God damnit! Open your eyes!” Rafe yelled, getting frustrated.

“I don’t know if you’re like jealous of my life here seeing what you could’ve had if you didn’t get a girl pregnant or what, Rafe, but you need to relax.” Zoe said as she felt her eyes start to fill with tears.

“I’m not jealous, Zoe, I feel sorry for you, and I can’t do this.” Rafe laughed out and walked away from Zoe leaving her on the side walk for the second time that night. 

Part 5

[pixelated-pogues]

can you write a blurb for rafe with random nr. 8?✨

Omg, yes, of course! I’m sorry that this is so delayed!

Prompt: 8. “Can you please...? Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on?”

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: None

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

Being a kook by birth but choosing to slum with the Pogues comes with many pros and cons. The many pros include being able to help your less fortunate friends, surrounding yourself in a carefree environment that gets you away from the mundane, being friends with somewhat everyone, and the list could go on. The many cons to being both a kook and a Pogue all seem to have some sort of a connection with Rafe Cameron. 

You’ve known him since you were five, your families naturally intermingled when you became next-door neighbors so many years ago. After being in such close quarters with someone for so many years, you’d think that there’d be a tight-knit friendship to go with it, but that never happened with Rafe. In fact, your relationship with him has always been quite the opposite even though he’s your brother’s best friend. You’ve always been known to get on each other's nerves as much as humanly possible, and always try to limit the time you spend in the same vicinity because you can’t stand being in close quarters for long periods of time. 

So, waking up with a raging headache and Rafe’s arm draped over your torso was a little surprising, to say the least.

“What the hell,” you gasp, abruptly sitting up in the bed. You glance around the room, your eyes bleary from sleep as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You groggily rub your eyes before taking the time to study the room again. Your eyes fall on a picture frame on the dresser, a photo of the Cameron family staring back at you. The realization that you’re in Rafe’s room begins setting in, a deep feeling of dread coming with it, as your eyes fall on the pile of clothes on the floor next to the bed. “No, no, no, no,” you repeat, throwing the covers off of your body. You carefully step over the clothes, finally taking the notice that the shirt Rafe wore to the party last night was hanging off of your frame. You grip at the fabric, a surprised gasp falling from your lips as you stare at it in disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe’s voice asks from behind you, causing you to spin towards him in shock. He’s curled into his blankets, hair completely disheveled and eyes barely open as he looks at you in confusion. You choose to ignore how attractive his voice sounds when it’s all raspy due to just waking up; your eyes narrowing at him. 

“What the hell am I doing here,” you huff, not answering his question. Your head spins slightly at the endless reasons as to why you woke up in his bed, all of them ending with the same answer. 

“You don’t remember anything from last night?” He yawns, finally sitting up. The covers fall from their position on his shoulders, putting his bare chest on display for you to see. 

“Do you think I’d still be here talking to you if I remembered anything,” your eyes narrow further, an annoyed sigh falling from your lips before you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it nervously. His eyes scan over your figure, lips curling into a slight smile, before he meets your gaze again. 

“You really want to know,” he questions, the smirk on his face filling you with dread. 

“Yes, Rafe, I really want to know,” you groan, crossing your arms over your chest. You hesitantly take a seat on his bed, as far away as you can without falling off, before looking at him again. “Can you please...? Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on? I’m not really interested in seeing you half-naked.” 

“Well, seeing as you’re wearing my shirt, I don’t think I’ll be putting it on. Unless you’re willing to give it back,” he shoots you a suggestive wink smirking at the scoff you spill in response. “Besides, all you wanted to do was tear my shirt off last night, so I find that statement a little hard to believe.”

“You’re disgusting,” you roll your eyes, pushing yourself off of his bed to find your clothes. “I can’t believe I was drunk enough to go home with you.” Embarrassed tears sting at the corner of your eyes as you clumsily stumble around the room, still slightly buzzed from the night before. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Woah, Y/n, I was kidding. I mean, you were trying to take my clothes off last night, but nothing happened,” he explains, his tone serious. “We didn’t do anything.” 

“Then what the hell happened, Rafe? Because waking up half-naked in your bed with you doesn’t exactly give me any reason to believe that nothing happened,” you spin towards him, frustrated at the few tears that slip from your eyes. He stands up, stalking to his closet to grab a shirt before facing you again, sliding it over his toned frame.

“Calm down,” he murmurs, closing the gap between the two of you. His hand reaching up to wipe the evidence of your tears away as you stare at him in confusion. “I know that this looks really bad and that you have no reason to trust me, but I swear that nothing happened. You were really out of it and passed out. Tristan (we’ll pretend that that’s your brother's name) was occupied with Olivia and clearly had no intention of taking you home, so I brought you here.”

 “You brought me here, and nothing happened,” you repeat, processing the brief amount of information he shared. Your eyes fall to the ground, relief flooding your system. “But, how did I end up in your clothes?”

“Oh, uh-,” he cuts himself off, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “You woke up when I brought you upstairs and started taking your clothes off. You kept telling me that my shirt looked more comfortable, so I gave it to you before convincing you to go to sleep. I tried sneaking into the guest room but you started crying and begged me to stay with you. There was a lot that happened, but that’s a brief summary. Nothing to worry about, seriously.” 

“I’m sorry,” you reply awkwardly, finding with the hem of his shirt. “I know spending the night taking care of me isn’t exactly on your list of things to do.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses. “It was kind of nice being around you and not being completely infuriated by your presence. I feel like I actually got to see you, and I kind of liked it.”

“Rafe Cameron, are you admitting that you like me?” You tease, giggling at the way that he rolls his eyes in exasperation. 

“All I’m saying is that I was able to tolerate your drunk ass all night,” he plays along, lightly shoving your shoulder. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

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

A/N: This is a hot mess, and I kind of hate it, but it’s the first post I’ve written in over a week....so we’ll roll with it. I hope you like it bb!! 

taglist: @thelocalpogue @kitluvs1 @maaybanks @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @drewstarkey @maybankdreams @ssjiara @bluebirdsbluebells @spilledtee @outcrbanx @maebanks @poguemacking

ps. if you wanna be added to that list, let me know! I’ve been a mess and haven’t written like anything, but I plan to get back into a routine now that my head is in a better place! 

[imogenlefay]

oooh, a ship game! tagged by @perfectromanceinmymind​ who i just started adoring more for reading Imzadi. ok, let’s get into this!

rules: Movie/TV ship questions; answer with a GIF; no repeats

1. First ship - Janeway and Chakotay (Star Trek: Voyager)

yeah, I KNOW. since i started my rewatch i’ve been complaining about how boring chakotay is and how captain mom - i mean mommy - i mean janeway deserves someone way more interesting. hell, i’m pretty sure i’ll be shipping Q with her over chakotay. and just see waht will happen when seven of nine shows up. ...but yeah. sue me. it’s THERE. it’s obvious. it’s just also very, very boring. 

2. First OTP - Lily and James (Harry Potter)

so, i know, tons of issues with harry potter. but that was a fandom i was super invested in. ctually, not sure that’s the right way to put it. i was super invested into the books, waxed and waned a bit... and the funny thing is, i didn’t care about the whole harry-ron-hermione-ginny thing until i started reading fandom things and was totes fine with whatever was happening (actually kinda rooting for ginny since book 2). didn’t really care about these ships. but lily and james? from first finding out about the marauders, i was on board of that ship. also, snape was a creep and a horrible person, and a nice guy, and that was not romantic

3. Favourite current ship - Sebastian and Blaine (Glee)

do i have to say it? seblaine from glee. these two have barley 15 minutes of screentime, but the chemistry is just there. i still think they were set up to be at least a midgame ship that fell through when grant gustin was busy with the flash, which given the writing on glee and the insistance on klaine as an endgame might have actually been for the better, but there’s just something about them. if blaine’s in the room, sebastian’s eyes are on him. when sebastian shows up, blaine’s mood lifts. Just so much potential, wasted again - but that’s the glee thing. 

4. Shipped from the first minute - Dean and Castiel (Supernatural)

sooooo, i won’t say they’re canon, but they’re half-canon and broke the internet. now, keep in mind, i stopped watching supernatural around season 8? the one in which metatron showed up, idk. it got so boring how every season another main character was the bad guy, the winchesters got more toxic, and of course, the treatment of cas. so i’ve seen from gift that got super toxic. but come on. i’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. best entrance ever, electric chemistry, gradually growing connection... i’m ignoring most of supernatural canon, but that was magic. 

5. Wish they had been endgame - Barney and Nora (How I Met Your Mother)

my shipping history with himym is... spotty. i liked ted/robin, was fine with them breaking up, and reaaaally got into barney/robin. until they got together, were awful and broke up. sure, i blamed the writing, but that short stint killed my enthusiasm. enter nora. sweet, smart, confident nora who is not ashamed to admit she’s a romantic and clearly state what she wants, who calls barney on his bs and won’t let him walk all over her. and also, the first woman barney actually wanted to be in a relationship with. even with robin, lily had to bully them into it. i thought she was really good for him, and he was at his best with her. hated how she was pushed aside to bring back more barney/robin drama (who srsly brought out the worst in each other) still my headcanon that he runs into her again when he’s more mature, caring for his daughter. but alas, has to remain a headcanon. (also, it’s a pic cause i literally can’t even find a gif)

6. Wish they had been canon - Bashir/Garak (Star Trek: DS9)

sorry, not sorry. the dynamic between is amazing - the brilliant but naive new doctor, excited like a freaking puppy, meeting the mysterious spy pretending to be a tailor while trying to move away from his past. there is SO much chemistry, fascination, intrigue between them, even if they aare so fundamentally different. just... damn. except at some point midway they stopped giving them scenes. were they afraid of the chemistry? idk but i’ll spread the rumor. because we were cheated. 

7. Ship everyone else hates - Ted and Robin (How I Met Your Mother)

i get it. the writing had issues. writing an endgame ahead of time can backfire. ted backtracking to robin again and again gets really annoying. the mother was seriously amazing and i still can’t believe they pulled her off so well after all the buildup. and the pacing of wasting a whole season on a wedding for a couple that gets divorced within like five minutes is awful. i know all that. but i honestly think they work. their first relationship was seriously sweet - nothing like the trainwreck between barney and robin - and for them to come together when the timing is right, they both grew and matured, and are in the right places in their lives... idk, they work for me. 

8. Don’t even watch the show but still ship - Rory and Jess (Gilmore Girls)

i literally only know gifsets of them. they look cute. 

9. Wish they had a different storyline - House and Cameron (House MD)

i seriously shipped them so much in season 1. their date was sweet, especially how before wilson told her to please not break house’s heart. but after the date, they just threw it out. i had some hope again when she left his team and returned as head of the ER, just cause i thought it changed the power dynamic and maybe they had a shot. that’s what i would have liked to see. that they work together occasionally, and he starts seeing her more as an equal and maybe build something from there. would probably been way healthier than the toxic crap with cuddy. 

10. Actually endgame - Emma and Hook (Once Upon A Time)

oh hi, jennifer morrison, haven’t seen you in a bit. so, i also stopped watching once upon a time, as the stories got too wild and i never got into regina’s big redemption, which consisted of *checks notes* deciding she’s redeemed now and screw anyone who disagrees. but i did love captain swan. did not see that coming. like, sure, hook flirts from their first interaction, but i was against them, given how antagonistic they were. but come season 3 and neverland, and their kiss? and damn. they took chemistry, and actually built something from it, and this time, it freaking worked. which is rare. so yes, so many issues with the show, but these two? ready to set sail, captain! 

tagging @blainesebastian​, @seblaineaddict​, @glitzgustin​, @ejaycaswell​ and @liloandsoon​, as well as anyone else who wants to take a spin at this

[obxfics]

Can’t Help Falling in Love

summary: in a perfect world, you could be with the pogues without putting anyone you loved at risk, but you didn’t live in a perfect world. you lived in the outer banks, and sometimes sacrifices need to be made to protect those you care about.

pairing: pope x reader

word count: 2,717

a/n: once again 60s AU! When i said it would be a series, i should have clarified that it would be a collection of fics. They don’t all necessarily take place in the same universe, hence the different pairings. i’m really enjoying these, so i hope you enjoy reading them! fair warning tho: this does not have a happy ending. i may write a part two using another song if y’all are interested, but as for this fic right now... this will not be a feel good fic.

The Summer Garden Party. The biggest event of the summer on Kildare island, and one that only those from Figure Eight were invited to. Neither one of your brothers, or you for that matter, really enjoyed going, mostly because your family didn’t really fit in with the rest of the second homers, but your grandparents had long been invited, and your father’s diner was a favorite for even the Kooks, so you were forced to attend every year. Your grandmother always picked out a lovely dress she had probably seen on the First Lady or Grace Kelly, and your brothers were shoved into slacks and sports coats, your mother forcing them to sit still as she slicked their hair back as if they were some big Hollywood actors. You wished your friends—well they weren’t really your friends anymore were they.

Earlier in the summer, you were forced to part from the Pogues after your diner had been trashed and Pope… the boy you loved was jumped because of your association with the lower class group. You knew on some level they understood, or at least John B did when you told him tearfully when he had come to check up on you, but you were still afraid that they hated you. Did they think you betrayed them by choosing the Kooks over them? It wasn’t much of a choice for you. Your family’s safety had been put at risk, and while you adored your friends, you loved them too much to see them hurt again. You couldn’t be the reason Pope was attacked or worse. So you played the perfect Kook. You dressed in tasteful dresses and pants inspired by Audrey Hepburn, attended summer tea parties, and went to the movies in the Camerons’ pretty blue Thunderbird. And then at night you went upstairs, wiped away all the make-up you had caked on, let your hair down, and cried yourself to sleep.

“Lovelies, are you ready?” your grandmother asked, poking her head into the bathroom where you were just finishing up with your makeup and your mother had finished twisting the last strands of hair into the updo you had decided on.

“Yes, Mother, we just need to put the finishing touch,” your mother answered.

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe when your mother uncapped the hairspray can and started spraying the elaborate hairstyle she had spent an hour doing. Even so, you coughed as you waved the sticky mist from your face and edged to the bathroom door to escape the fumes.

“Not so fast, young lady,” your mother called, smiling when your grandmother stopped you from leaving. “You’re forgetting the most important part!”

You managed to suppress the urge to roll your eyes when you saw the pearl necklace in your mother’s hands. It was a precious family heirloom, passed down from your grandmother to your mother and now to you, but as much as you loved your family, you still hated the feeling of going full Kook. You had betrayed your friends, and for what? To wear fancy clothes to fancy parties and laugh at rude boys who wanted nothing more than to taint you? Still, you allowed your mother to place the necklace on you and clasp it at the back of your neck. The pearls were cool on your collarbone, and you had to admit that you looked quite nice, but you didn’t look like you, not really. How you longed to lounge about in your bikini, Keds, and one of Pope’s Hawaiian shirts. You were your father’s daughter, a wild child who belonged to the waves, whether that be the Florida coast or the Outer Banks.

“Oh, honey, you look beautiful,” your grandmother sniffled, careful not to smudge her makeup. “So much like your mother at your age.”

“Ladies!” you heard your father call up the stairs. “Are we going to this shindig or not?”

“Is it that time already? Oh, dear, we can’t be late!”

You followed your mother and grandmother down the stairs, taking careful steps to seem graceful in the pumps you were forced to wear. At the bottom of the stairs, you saw your father and grandfather tucking a few cigars into their coat pockets while Christian and Diego fussed with their suspenders and gelled up hair. You all looked the part of a perfect Kook family. You took Diego’s outstretched hand and smiled gratefully at Christian when he draped your shawl over your shoulders. Well at least you still had your brothers even if you couldn’t have your Pogues.

“I say we stay for an hour, steal some booze, and make a break for the beach,” Diego whispered as you all climbed into the station wagon.

“Aw, you don’t want to dance with any pretty girls?” Christian teased his younger brother.

“Diego’s already been through all the pretty girls on the island,” you laughed, checking to make sure your parents and grandparents hadn’t heard. “He’s so used to drinking and partying at college. I bet you even smoke some things Mother and Pops wouldn’t approve of,” you whispered with a giggle.

“Nothing you can prove,” Diego said, before grinning and showing you what he had stowed in his inside coat pocket. “But we could have a very pleasant night if y’all wanted to.”

The three of you stifled giggles as your car pulled up to the Country Club where you could already hear the sound of the band playing under the stars. You took the hand that the valet offered you with a smile, and you took a moment to smooth out any creases that had formed while you had been squished between your brothers before you looked up to thank the valet.

“Pope,” you breathed out when your eyes met those of your ex-lover’s. Your heart clenched painfully, and your grip on his hand tightened without your permission. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He offered you a small, sad smile and squeezed your hand once before letting go. “You look beautiful tonight, Miss y/l/n. Please enjoy your evening.”

Your brothers each took ahold of one of your arms and led you forward before you could have a breakdown before even stepping foot into the party.

“Keep looking forward,” Christian whispered in your ear when he saw you begin to look behind you. “Rafe and Topper are already keeping an eye on us.”

Although it physically pained you to do so, you restrained yourself from looking back at the boy you loved with all your heart, and instead smiled and allowed Topper to kiss your cheek. You hated that you had to go on dates with him, pretending to be infatuated with him. All to protect those you actually loved. He took your hand from your brothers’ and began leading you away from them towards the area by the state set up for dancing. The band was playing “A Teenager in Love,” and your stomach turned at the thought of being in Topper’s arms swaying to it together. But you would bear it.

“You look beautiful,” he told you as he placed his hands at your waist. “Like Grace Kelly, almost.”

You were sure your grandmother would love to hear that, but you knew she wasn’t fond of most the families in Figure Eight. While your grandparents raised your mother here, they had worked hard to get to where they are, and they adored your father despite his poorer upbringing. They had never bought into the class division of the island, and they despised how kids your age were being raised to hate on those less fortunate than them. She, like you, knew Topper and Rafe were among the worst, but you assured her that you knew what you were doing getting involved with them. You didn’t. You just knew that if you were with one of them, no one would dare mess with you, and you were in a position to take their attention from the Pogues. So you swallowed your nausea each day and allowed Topper to kiss you and touch you.

“I can’t believe those lowlives are allowed here,” he growled, bringing you from your thoughts.

You turned your head to see he was glaring at the Pogues. All three boys were dressed as waiters, Pope having left his post as valet once everyone had arrived. Your heart pounded in your chest when you felt his grip on your waist tighten. You placed your hand on his cheek, smiling at him in an attempt to get him to focus solely on you.

“The Garden Party wouldn’t be successful without people serving the drinks, right?” you cooed. “Just focus on dancing with me.”

It seemed to work for a few moments until you noticed Diego approach the Pogues. What was he doing?

“What the hell is your brother doing?” Topper echoed your thoughts.

“I-I don’t know. Wait, Topper!”

You weren’t quick enough to grab his wrist as he made his way over to where your brother was.

“What’s happening?” Kie was at your side in a flash.

“I don’t know! Diego just went over to talk to the boys, and now Topper is going to blow a gasket!”

The two of you rushed after your “boyfriend” as he got in Diego’s face. Your brother raised his arms in a placating manner, his eyes flashing over to meet yours in a panic.

“Whoa, calm down, buddy,” Diego said in a gentle tone, “I was just asking for them to make me an old fashioned. That’s it, Topper.”

“Topper,” you called, placing a hand on his arm once you reached him, “just leave it. Diego just wanted a drink, okay?”

A yelp escaped you when Topper shoved you away from you into Kie’s arms.

“Don’t patronize me! You two think you’re so clever, don’t you? Think I don’t realize you’re still messing around with these low-lives?” Topper snarled at you.

“Hey, you don’t get to talk to her like that!” Pope snapped.

John B held Pope back while Diego stepped aside, letting JJ approach Topper. There would be a lot worse consequences if Pope was the one to lose it. So you all were left to watch as JJ smirked and socked Topper right in the eye. Chaos descended as the boy you were with toppled to the ground, and JJ dropped on top of him to continue whaling on him. You were aware of many women around you screaming for security, and you realized you were one of them. You had to do something.

“JJ, stop!” you begged your friend. “Please, don’t hurt him!”

If he hurt Topper too bad, there was no way you could protect your friends from the Kooks. You had to stop him. You locked eyes with Christian who had come running once the first punch had been thrown. He got the message and wrapped his arms around JJ, managing to drag the blonde off your “boyfriend.” This allowed you to drop to your knees beside Topper, probably ruining your pretty dress, and touch his face tenderly. Please don’t be hurt, you begged the cosmos. For the Pogues’ sake, please don’t be hurt. Rafe helped you hoist Topper to his feet.

“Here, let’s get you taken care of,” you whispered and took his hand. “Will you let me take care of you?”

Thankfully, he let you lead him through the crowd that had formed and into the building. You found the locker room and sat him down on one of the benches so you could properly assess the damage. You saw he had a split lip and some swelling appearing around his right eye. Not too bad, but still not good. You blew out a sigh as you briefly touched the cut on his bottom lip.

“I’m going to go get some ice and a first aid kit, okay? Stay here for me.”

“You chose me,” he said.

“Are you surprised?”

“I thought you had been messing around with all of them. But you chose me tonight.”

The day I choose you is the day I die, you promised in your head. “You’re my boyfriend, and, like you say, they’re just lowlives. Every girl likes to have a bit of rebellion before settling down, right. Mine is over.” You turned to the door, “I’ll be back with that ice.”

As you entered the kitchen, you heard the band start playing again. Elvis Presley this time. You had always loved this song. Had danced with Pope to it many times in your room as it played from your record player.

“Are you okay?” you heard from behind you as you wrapped some ice up in a towel. Pope. “Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine, Pope.”

“You need to be more careful with him.”

You whirled around to glare at the boy. “I need to be more careful? No, you need to! You all do! There is only so much I can do so he doesn’t try to kill the three of you stupid boys,” you snapped.

“Oh, so is that what you’re doing with him?” he scoffed.

“As a matter of fact, it is. You think I like being with him? He’s rude. And he hates the Beach Boys. And his hands like to wander too much at the drive-in. But I bear it all to protect you.”

Pope stepped forward so your chests were practically touching. The tension between you was palpable, and oh had you missed it.

“And why would you want to protect me?”

“Because I love you, you dolt!”

His hand was on the small of your back now, the distance between you two dwindling rapidly. You could barely focus on anything but the feel of his hand on you.

“Do you really?”

“For someone so smart, you can be so slow,” you whispered. “You are so annoying, and you never understand when I try to hint to you that I want you to kiss me like crazy in the Volkswagen, and I can never understand anything you talk about, but I still listen because it’s important to you and because… because I can’t help falling in love with you!”

You gasped when he suddenly pulled you to him and slanted his full lips over yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed yourself to him eagerly, the heat in the room seeming to rise a hundred degrees. You missed this. Missed how he could drive you crazy yet he was the only thing you ever seemed to need. His lips left yours and traveled to your neck, and you swore you were in heaven. And then you remembered where you were, who you were.

“Whoa!” he panted when you pushed him away from you. “What’s wrong?”

“We… we can’t do this, Pope.”

“But you just said you were falling in love with me. And I… I’m in love with you too.”

Tears formed in your eyes as your heart ripped into a million pieces in your chest. This couldn’t be happening.

“I do love you. And that’s why I have to stay away from you. The people here… they don’t like that I hang around you and the other boys. If we got together, it would only be a matter of time before they hurt you again.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“Don’t… don’t say that, Pope. I’m trying to save you!”

“I don’t want to be saved! I just want you!”

You shook your head and took a few more steps back to put more distance between you. To clear your head. You were making the right decision. You grabbed the towel full of ice and saw the first aid kit by the door.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you passed Pope. You pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek and allowed a single tear to fall. “I wish things could be different.”

Then you moved past him and grabbed the little white box by the door. You took a deep breath to collect yourself, wiped any tears from your face, and squared your shoulders. When you stepped out those kitchen doors, you were no longer Pope’s y/n. You would be full Kook. And that’s how you were gonna stay until you could escape this island.

[untilmynextstory]

Chapter 2: THE SLEEP OF BABIES

WORD Count: 7.9k

Enjoy!

Jax and Alma are laying in bed in his dorm room. They are still in lockdown. It’s midafternoon and the kids are out with his mom. It left him and Alma some valued alone time. With the door locked and Alma’s shirt raked up to under her breasts, Jax takes the time to admire her flat stomach as his hand lays atop of it. He can really soak in that they will be having another baby in the house. He barely thinks about the fact he is about to be promoted to Vice President. It pales in comparison to this news. 

Though, as he tries to spot the small changes that pregnancy brings to Alma, he does disclose everything that has happened the past few days within the club. He brings up the general unease the guys feel about agreeing to sell to the Mayans despite their current deal with the Niners. 

“You don’t seem happy about it.” Alma points out. Her small hands grab his and she contorts his fingers as she pleases. A small smile forms as both of his kids do the same thing. 

“It’s less blood, but now the Niners won’t be happy.” It’s like exchanging one enemy to make a new one. 

Alma’s teeth tug at her lips. “They have to understand that it’s just business.”

“We promised to never sell to the Mayans.” He informs her. It was the one thing that gave them such an easy alliance. Now they will be selling guns to their enemies that will aid them in their ongoing turf war. 

Jax doesn’t want to talk of club business anymore. He shifts so that he is laying in between his wife’s legs.  His breath tickles her stomach. “When can we announce the news?”

“I’m 10 weeks.” She informs him. “But I want to wait a little bit longer…”

“You’re worried?”

“Cautious. After Kaylee…I’m just cautious.” She informs him as she plays with his blonde hair. 

Jax places a kiss to her flat stomach. He doesn’t know how to ease her valid concerns, but it doesn’t take away the joy he feels for the upcoming expansion of his family. 

“I’m your old man,” he whispers to his unborn child. 

.

.

Jaxs’ smile threatens to break his cheeks as he embraces Opie. He clutches his friend tight and thanks god that he sees it fit to keep his friend safe and alive in prison. He is even thankful Darby has not broken his deal. 

He hates that his friend is stuck in prison for 5 years. But his friend is alive and that is all that matters. 

“Oh hell, don’t tell me you managed to knock Alma up again?” Opie guesses correctly. 

Jax smiles brightly. 

“Congratulations, bro.”

“Thanks. Having the two is crazy enough, but three,” Jax mutters. 

“You got yourself a good family.”

“The kids miss their Uncle Opie. Kaylee was upset she didn’t have the picture she wanted me to give you done in time.”

“I miss them. I miss all of them.” Opie tells him tightly. “But what else is going on?”

Jax lets the conversation change. “Well, you are looking at your new Vice President.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“We’re getting closer.” Jax tells him. They are getting closer to achieving their childhood dreams of being head of the club. 

“So new baby, promotion, what is the third thing we should be looking out for.”

Jax chuckles. “I don’t think the 3rd thing will be a good one.”

Opie tugs at his beard. “That sounds ominous.”

“I painted a wall.” Jax informs him. 

Opie’s eyebrows skyrocket. “What color?”

“Blue for the green. Had to be done. It looks better with the black.” Killed an official for the Irish. For the money. They had to kill Brenan Hefner and they basically got a free shipment of guns. 

“Someone helped.”

“Yeah, but green isn’t turning out to be my favorite. Doesn’t look right. I covered the carpet and windows, but I’m not sure…”

“Well painting isn’t our business.”

“I know.” They weren’t hit men. But maybe the thought of new life has him having doubts about taking one. 

“It’s just the impending fatherhood.” Opie cautions. 

“Maybe.”

.

.

It’s funny that it isn't until Alma realizes she is pregnant that her house is incredibly small. It’s then she notices how it’s not just having two kids leave her tripping over toys, but the fact there is barely any room for them. Even after going through and having the kids decide what they wanted to keep or donate, she realizes a third baby would be a tight fit. 

Alma loves her small home. It was hers and Jaxs’. They managed to make it their home. It is where she raised her babies. She doesn’t want to give it up. She thinks maybe they could add to the house. 

She knows Jax would contemplate it although ultimately deciding it would be better off just to buy a new one. She thinks she could manage him to at least add a room. She imagines it would be cheaper. 

She just doesn’t want to give this up. She is attached to this house after all the work and love she has put into it. 

She smiles as with her being pregnant she knows she can convince Jax of nearly anything. They would be keeping the house. She stands in front of her bedroom mirror and lifts up her shirt. Before Jax had left to head to Chino to see Opie, the doctor had confirmed she was two months and a couple weeks into the 3rd month. She turns to the side and she doesn’t really expect to see anything. She just looks bloated. But it’s all the evidence she needs to be extremely giddy about the pregnancy. 

She’s worried, of course, but it doesn’t stop the happiness at the thought of her and Jax bringing another child into the world. She doesn’t care if it’s a boy or girl. She just wants a healthy baby. 

A knock at the door startles. She drops her shirt and thinks it’s Gemma. She has the kids. She doesn’t know why she would knock, but she doesn’t think too hard on it. She walks to the door and expects the whirlwind of her children, but her body freezes at the sight of Agent Stahl standing at her doorstep. 

“Mrs. Teller –“

“Agent Stahl, how can I help you?” Alma interrupts. 

The tall blonde smiles at her. “I was just wondering where I could find your husband.”

Alma folds her arms across her chest. “I bet if you looked hard enough you could find him.”

“True, but actually I’m more interested in you and your family history.”

“Don’t know why? I’m not that much fun.”

Stahl chuckles at her. “I think dad would’ve had a problem with the Prince knocking up his daughter at 16.”

“This is old history, Stahl. The only person you could piss off with that knowledge is my mother. So tell me why you are here?”

Stahl quickly drops her charade and digs a photo out of her bag. “You recognize this man?”

Alma looks at a picture of an older gentleman. He looks like an average white man who could be anyone. “No, should I?”

“His name is Cameron Hayes. IRA. He is a known terrorist who we managed to track down in the Northern California area.”

“What does this have to do with me and my family?”

Stahl smirks. “A port commissioner was murdered a couple weeks ago. Rumored to piss off the IRA. Wondered if some friends helped with that.”

“Speculations don’t add to a warrant. If you appear on my doorstep one more time without one, I will call your superiors for harassment.”

“Gemma trains them well.” Stahl muses.

Alma keeps a blank face as Stahl walks back to her unmarked vehicle. It’s only her luck that Gemma pulls up into her driveway and Stahl even has the nerve to wave at the biker matriarch. Alma assumes the two women have already encountered each other. 

Alma steps down from the steps and goes to Gemma’s Escalade to help unbuckle the kids. 

“Mama!” Kaylee exclaims from her carseat. Alma unbuckles her and holds her close as she presses a kiss to her head. “Did you have fun with Grandma?”

“Lots!” Kaylee exclaims as she wiggles to be let down. “Is Daddy home?”

“Not yet,” She tells her daughter. Nathan doesn’t need help out of the car as he grabs his bag and rushes back in the house. Kaylee rushes in after him. 

She shakes her head and Gemma stands next to her. “What did Stahl want?”

“Just playing mind games.” Alma says brushing off the encounter. She’s been through this before. 

“It’s bullshit. They don’t have anything.” Gemma adds. 

“It’s all smoke going after the women, huh?” Alma knows the boys did something. She just doesn’t want to dwell on it. She wants nothing to distract her from the pregnancy. She doesn’t need the stress. 

It’s then that she gets a strong whiff of Gemmas’ perfume that her stomach turns. It has her running to the closest garbage can, which is in the kitchen. 

Fuck, her morning sickness couldn’t have come at a better time. She heaves and heaves until her throat burns something fierce. She groans and grimaces as she can smell her sour breath. She walks over to the sink to rinse her mouth out with some water. She needs a shower at this point. 

“So?” Gemma questions. “The last time I saw you throw up was when you decided to decorate my rose garden when you were pregnant with Kaylee.”

Alma takes another swish of the water. It seems the cat is out of the bag. She faces Gemma and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m two months along.” She admits. 

She watches as an ecstatic look overtakes Gemma’s features. The biker matriarch embraces her in a tight hug. “Another grandbaby. Who would’ve thought. Why the hush hush?”

“I’m just worried.”

“Sweetie –“

“I know.” Alma says with a sigh. She knows worrying will make her pregnancy more stressful, but she can’t help it.

“Everything will be fine.” Gemma assures her. 

.

.

.

It was quite easy to see that the wife of Opie Winston was the weakest link out of the few SAMCRO old ladies. Agent Stahl knows the recent single mother will crumble easily under the weight. Her intel had informed her how the small brunette had begun isolating herself from the inbred bikers. It was a rookie mistake and would leave the woman vulnerable. 

Stahl seats at the wooden table with the angry brunette. A baby is sleeping in a bassinet in the living room with the oldest boy coloring. Stahl tries to at least feel pity for these kids. 

“How are things going for you, Donna?”

“I’m pretty sure your notes already tell you how I am doing.”

Stahl gives her a stiff smile. “You’re smart, Donna. You can only see how SAMCRO is going to rip your family apart. It already has.”

“My family is fine.”

“And in five years…a lot can happen.” Stahl tells her as she leans up. “Are you aware of the enemies that your husbands’ motorcycle club has? Mayans, Nords…just to name a few are surrounding your husband right now.”

“Are you threatening his safety?”

“I’m giving you the facts. Two kids, a single income…it is going to be hard to manage. You might fall behind on the mortgage or get in credit card debt.”

“And what can you help me with?”

“I can help your husband.” Stahl tells her bluntly. “I can get him out this year and as a sign of good faith move him closer to home. Six hours is a long drive.”

Donna snorts. “You really need to work on your sales pitch.”

“We both know when Opie gets out he is going to go back to the club…back to arson…or back to prison if he even makes it out of this sentence.” Stahl tells her without any care. “If anything, think about the two kids who will be without a father. They are more important than that club.”

Donna stands up from the table. “I don’t know shit about Opie’s club business. And even if I did, I'd never rat on him. Get out of my house, bitch.”

Stahl gives her a grim smile and doesn’t need to be told twice. Her partner, Estevez follows her out the house. 

“Well that went well.” Estevez mutters. 

Stahl chuckles. “No, it went perfectly well. She is going to run to Alma Teller. Means we got her rattled or doubting. We just need a crack.”

.

.

.

To see Donna on her doorstep after weeks of silence and broken playdates with the kids has thrown Alma for a loop. Clearly the recent prison widow is struggling and Alma is glad to help. However, she can’t help but feel this isn’t just out of Donna’s own doing. Something pushed her to try to mend the broken bridges she had been trying to burn. 

Alma knows she won’t be vindictive and turn her away. Ellie is sleeping peacefully and Kenny is glad to be back to playing with Nathan and Kaylee. It leaves the two women some privacy in the kitchen.

Alma has her own cup of green tea in front of her while Donna has a glass of water. Alma stares intently at the brunette and wonders when they start to become strangers. 

“What happened?” Alma asks softly.  

Donna chews on her bottom lip as she picks at her fingernails. “A fed came by my house. Was trying to see if I knew anything about Opie’s business.”

Alma blows on her tea and nods her head. “Agent Stahl, I presume.”

“She said she could get Opie closer to home and out in a year.”

“They will say anything to get you to make a slip up Donna. That would only hurt Opie and your family.” Alma replies. 

Donna’s brows furrow. “Opie is in jail that is hurting my family. This club hurts my family.”

“You married into this, Donna. You knew going into this what could happen.”

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “So that excuses everything? I’m just supposed to accept that the father of my children is a convicted felon.”

The grip on her mug tightens. Alma knows she is treading on dangerous territory. She knows what she can say can push Donna in 20 different directions that can only hurt Opie. “If you talk to Stahl…you can get him killed, Donna.”

Alma watches as the blood leaves Donna’s face. Maybe, Alma shouldn’t have said that, but she also believes Opie should’ve had this talk with her. It would make a lot of things easier. 

“From who? The Mayans? Nords?” Donna hisses. 

Alma’s brows furrow and she assumes Stahl gave her those names. Alma thinks it is better for Donna to have that conclusion considering that Alma was talking about the club. Alma knew Jax would never let anything happen to Opie, but he was only one person. If Donna talked…

“From you. You coming here talking about giving a Fed information is gonna have him spun. He is going to be too focused about what is going to come out of your mouth than his safety in prison.” Alma tells her honestly. 

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “This can’t be happening. I came here for a friend and I feel like I am talking to Gemma.”

Alma takes a sip of her tea. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not going to encourage you to rat.”

“Because your family is perfectly safe and fine right? Jax is still here. Who cares about Donna?”

“It isn’t even like that.” Alma snaps. “And the fact of the matter is one day I will probably be in your position or worse burying my fucking husband in an early grave. Don’t forget I grew up in this shit, Donna.  I lost my father to this life.”

“And look where you are! Married to the fucking Vice President of the outlaw motorcycle club!” Donna roars. “What does that say about you, huh?”

“What’s going on here?”

Both Donna and Alma jump at the sound of Jax’s voice. His eyes are going back and forth between Donna and Alma. Alma can see his concern and agitation because the last thing she needs is stress during this pregnancy. 

“Nothing,” Donna spats. “I was just leaving.” 

Jax raises his eyebrow at the venom in her tone. He doesn’t stop her from leaving as she picks up Ellie’s carrier and interrupts Kenny playing with the kids to leave. She doesn’t bother with a goodbye and even slams their door. 

Alma moves from the table with her tea and places it in the sink. She hears Jax moving behind her and his arms wrap around her. 

“Does the club need to be concerned?” He asks her softly. 

“Stahl rattled her.” Alma admits. “And I don’t know what is going on in her head.”

“Going after the women is a smart tactic especially ones that have the most to lose.” Jax mutters to her. 

She turns in his hold to peer into his blue eyes. “What is going on Jax? Don’t tell me it’s smoke because they wouldn’t wait until after Opie’s case and sentence to start digging into club business.”

Jax pulls back some as he looks over her and sighs. His hands come up and caress her face. “I don’t want you worrying about this shit.”

“Don’t use this pregnancy to keep me at length. Not telling me shit keeps me worried.”

“A port commissioner was killed. He was the enemy of the Irish.” He tells her and nothing else. 

“Jax…” Alma knows there is more to the story. He isn’t telling her everything and it burns. 

“Babe, if it becomes something trust me I will let you know before shit hits the fan. Just focus on the little one, yeah.” He tells her as he pulls her close and back into a tight hug. 

Alma only nods her head against his chest. 

.

.

It was a close one Jax can admit. Luckily, with Unser on the payroll, it had been easy to sneak into the police to relay word to Luann about the Feds plan. Unfortunately, it meant Otto getting more infractions against him as he gave Stahl a busted nose and black eye. He hasn’t yet told the club about Donna’s visit to Alma or even Opie about his wife’s doubts. He hopes now that he won’t need to. 

The club is in a good mood. It still hasn’t settled in that he is now Vice President of his father’s club. He has just gotten through his first, but many waves of heat the club will always get. He didn’t fuck it up and that is a plus. He smiles as he spots Alma at the bar. The new Prospect, Half Sack, is keeping her company. 

God, his wife is beautiful and he knows he is a lucky bastard. He glances over to the portrait of her father. Sometimes, he wonders how he would’ve handled knowing he had gotten her pregnant and married her. Jax knows for sure he would’ve gotten his ass handed to him. Though he hopes the man is at least comforted in the fact he is taking care of her. He knows he treats Alma thousand times better than her father ever treated Ana. 

Jax makes his way to his wife and wraps his arms around her. She laughs at the affection, but she melts into the hold. 

“Miss me, baby?” She questions. 

“All the damn time,” he admits as Half Sack slides a beer to him. 

Alma smiles as she sips her cranberry juice. He moves to her side and is practically hovering over her. She doesn’t seem to mind. “I think we should tell people.”

“Now?”

He nods his head. “You’re closer to four months now. If you weren’t wearing loose sweaters people would know by now anyways.”

Jax can see her hesitation. He watches as the gears turn in her head. He doesn’t like it. His fingers pinch her chin bringing her back to him as he places soft delicate kisses on her lips. “It’ll be okay.”

Alma relaxes in his hold and she nods her head. A small smile pulls at her full lips. He slams his beer back before he pulls his beer close. 

With his right hand he brings his fingers up to his mouth a whistle gathering everyone’s attention. 

“Listen up, I got something to tell y'all.” He shouts. All eyes are on him. Curious as they look between him and Alma. He smiles wide. “I got another kid on the way.”

The club roars and he gives Alma a deep kiss before his brothers tackle him with hard slaps on his back in form of congratulation. 

.

.

It was hard saying goodbye to their old house. Due to Alma’s heightened emotions, they didn’t sell the house, but decided to tackle being landlords. Alma just could not give up their former home. 

The new home was a massive upgrade that Jax didn’t really care about and showed off the perks from his lifestyle. The European inspired home was 6 bedrooms with a 4 car garage. An in-ground pool in the backyard. 

To welcome them into the home there were massive columns and arched windows over the front door. From the foyer it featured two circular staircases leading to the balcony that overlooked the Formal living room. 

The kitchen included a prep island, a walk-in pantry, and a 6-person eat-at peninsula bar. Leaving the kitchen it opened into the breakfast room and family room, which featured a curved wall of windows. It also included a fireplace and directly across from there they had a covered porch. 

Like the family, the master suite also had a curved wall of windows and Jax and Alma were treated to their own private covered porch. Their master bathroom had a corner glass shower, a whirlpool tub, and walk-in closets for him and her. 

The hallway from the foyer leads to the spacious game room, large home theater and guest room with private bath. 

The second floor of the house, which basically belonged to the kids, included 4 additional bedroom suites each with a private bath. 

It was a beautiful home. 

Jax smiles as he brings his arms around his wife and caresses her bump. Alma pregnant is his favorite site in the world. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she giggles. 

“It is so big, Jax.” She whispers as they watch the Prospect being ordered by Kaylee where boxes are going. 

“Nothing but the best for my family.”

Alma turns in his arms. Her bump pressed against his stomach. Her brown eyes are glowing. “I love you.”

“I hope so. Being married to you ain't cheap.”

Alma scoffs as she slaps him in the stomach. “It’s cheaper to keep me. You remember that.”

Jax smirks and he gives his wife an Eskimo kiss. “So no Kobe rings could ever help me out in the future.”

“Are you purposely trying to irritate your pregnant wife?”

“Maybe.” Jax quips as he presses a kiss to her lips. 

“You’re a jerk.” 

“I’ll give her a full body massage later, yeah.” 

“You promise?”

“Of course, darlin’.” He promises as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get that. You should be sitting somewhere. Direct from the couch.”

“I’m perfectly capable of standing,” he hears Alma mutter to his back. 

Jax doesn’t bother checking the windows to see who is at the door. He thinks it is probably his brothers wanting to see where their new place to freeload is. 

He swings the door open and his good mood is instantly soured by the presence of Agent Stahl. “Can I help you?”

Stahl opens her mouth, but she is interrupted by the sound of his kids laughing behind him and Kaylee saddles up to his leg. 

“Daddy! You missed it. Half Sack –“ She stops as she looks at the group of suits at their door. 

“What’s going on, Dad?” Nathan asks as he too looks at the people on his steps. 

Jax manages to keep a straight face as he picks up Kaylee and presses a kiss to her head before setting her back down next to Nathan. “Go to your mom.”

Nathan’s eyes widen at his words. “Dad –“

“Go now,” Jax orders. 

No one is prepared for Kaylee to scream for her mother making all of them jump. They are all frozen when Kaylee attempts to close the door on the agents. “You’re not taking my Daddy!” She screams before latching onto her father tightly. 

“Jax – “Stahl begins. 

“Don’t do this now,” he says between clenched teeth. 

“Is your wife home?” Stahl asks instead. 

Her question is answered as Alma appears confused. “What is going on?” Half Sack is behind her. 

“Mrs. Teller, you need to take your daughter.” Stahl says. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I really wouldn’t like to do this in front of your kids.”

“Sack, take her,” Jax orders. 

The Prospect comes over and with a tight grip pries Kaylee away from him. Jax forces himself not to watch as his daughter’s screams and cries echo throughout the house. 

He presses a kiss to Alma, who is standing in shock as realization dawns on her. “I love you. Call my mom.”

He hugs his son real quick. “You take care of your mom and your sister and the little one.” Nathan nods and holds him tightly before letting go. 

Jax walks away from his family. 

He stands in front of Stahl as an agent with cuffs walks behind him. 

“Jackson Teller, you're under arrest for the murder of Brenan Hefner. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” Stahl says as she begins leading him to the unmarked car. 

He is silent as he walks to the car. He doesn’t resist as they push him in the backseat. 

He doesn’t want to look at his family as he is whisked away. But as the car pulls out of his driveway, he looks back as Nathan begins screaming for him. 

Alma stands behind their son who has turned in her arms. His tears staining her swollen belly. 

.

.

.

Sometimes, Alma hates the club. She hates the hierarchy it upholds. She hates that her husband is in jail. Right now, she thinks she may even hate Clay Morrow. It wasn’t as if she was a fragile newlywed. She had grown up in this shit. He was beating around the bush and not giving her a straight fucking answer on as to why her kids had to witness their father being arrested. 

“I know you’re upset –“

“I’m fucking pissed!” Alma snaps at her father in law. 

Clay purses his lips in displeasure as Gemma even keeps her lips shut as she massages his hands at their dining room table. 

Clay knows he is in a tricky spot. For one, he isn’t in the chapel and his status as President doesn’t matter right now. Right now he has his son’s wife demanding an answer because now club business is bleeding into family business. 

He isn’t about to open his mouth because he doesn’t know what Jax wants Alma to even know. At the same time, he doesn’t want to get taken out by some pregnant broad. He has dodged bullets from soldiers and rivals; his life isn’t coming to an end due to an angry pregnant woman. 

“Alma, jail time is always a risk for what we do.” He says slowly. He can see the steam rushing out of her ears. 

“Don’t be fucking patronizing. I want to know what the fuck he did.” Alma seethes. “I have that right.” She knows it is a murder charge, but she wants the details. 

“Alma, you need to calm down,” Gemma says, finally speaking up as she watched Alma cradle her stomach. “This isn’t good for the baby.”

Alma snorts. “That bitch arrested him in front of the kids.”

Alma doesn’t know why, but the tears just pour out of her eyes. She knows she couldn’t shelter her kids forever. She knew this day would come where her and Jax would need to explain their world. She just never wanted her kids to witness their father being taken away in handcuffs. 

Alma collapses in a chair as the tears don’t stop. Gemma moves up from the table to comfort her. They all think it is better for Alma to break down now than later. She can do it now and leave the house strong for her family. 

“We’ll figure this out,” Clay promises over the tears. 

.

.

.

Clay is annoyed and pissed. That ATF bitch is blocking all attempts of making contact with Jax. The only thing they know is that he is being charged for the hit they did for the Irish. He is more concerned how in the hell there was a witness. He looks at Tig and Bobby, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. 

“How’s Alma?” Bobby asks. 

Clay leans back into his chair and sighs. “Pissed once she was able to read over the charges fully and the penalties. I thought you guys said it was clear?” He asks with more bite than he intends. 

“It was, Clay,” Tig assures. “Easiest hit ever. Besides, Bobby and I were there. Wouldn’t they arrest us too?” 

Clay sighs. He doesn’t know what game that ATF gash is playing. 

“I don’t think it needs to be said, Jax ain’t gonna rat…so how in the hell are we gonna get him protection?” Bobby says speaking up. 

Clay runs a hand through his hair. The last thing he wants is to ask the Nords for more help. “What we need to do is find the rat.” Clay tells them. 

“Serious allegation, Clay,” Bobby cautions. 

“No shit, but how in the hell do you explain someone identifying Jax as the shooter?”

Both men turn silent. 

“Something ain’t right about this.” Clay mutters. 

.

.

“You need to calm down,” Gemma orders as she watches Alma pace in the kitchen of the unpacked home. Boxes are still closed and Gemma guesses Jax’s recent arrest has made her neglect certain things. 

Most importantly, Gemma is just worried about the health of her unborn grandchild. 

“I fucking can’t.” Alma tells her. “We just bought this house. I don’t work. How in the fuck am I going to support three kids on no salary?”

Gemma frowns. “You know that you don’t need to worry about that.”

“That is not the point.” Alma stresses. Alma wants to scream in frustration at being in this situation. She knows after this baby comes she is going to make some major changes in her life.

Gemma purses her lips together. She wants to snap and tell Alma that she needs to get her shit together. It is just a stark contrast to how Alma is usually calm and reserved. It makes Gemma wonder how much Alma buries or this is literally pregnancy emotions that can’t let her even allow to comprehend one emotion to latch onto.  

“How about we take things week by week, or better yet focus on that baby in your belly. Let the club worry about Jax.” Gemma advises. 

Alma takes a calming breath as she places a hand on her prominent belly. It’s a tense and uncomfortable silence that Gemma isn’t used to being on the receiving end of. Gemma almost jumps when fat tears escape Alma’s eyes. She watches as the tears splash against the woman’s cheeks and stain against her shirt. 

Gemma doesn’t exactly know what is stopping her from consoling her daughter in law. She is almost embarrassed when Nathan comes in and sees the state of his mother. 

Nathan rushes over to his mother. “Mom, what’s wrong?” He asks as his arms wrap around her as much as they can. “It’s going to be okay, Mom.” Nathan whispers. 

Alma opens her arms and embraces her oldest child. 

Alma’s eyes meet Gemma’s. The tears stop coming. 

.

.

The only good part about being locked up in Federal custody is that he isn’t in the general population. He is isolated and the food isn’t’ that shitty. He doesn’t need to try and make friends, which could mess up his standing and getting a deal. So he is not complaining or making a fuss too much and the last thing he wants is to give Alma added stress. 

And after two days of nothing, the agents were finally dragging him to the visitation room. He sits quietly before Stahl comes through the door with her manila envelope. 

She doesn’t bother with a greeting as she takes a sit opposite him. “You killed a state official, Jax. The U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty.”

“I didn't kill anybody.” Jax tells her.  “And if you have anything else to say, why don't you talk to my lawyer?”

Stahl smirks. “Well, if my witness statement is a lie... then maybe you should hear all of it, hmm?”

Jax smiles. “Yeah, I like a good story.”

Stahl leans back in her chair as she opens her folder.  “Hefner got spooked by seeing Bobby. He turned back to you. You jammed your gun in his sternum and fired four shots. Hefner fell. You and Bobby fled the balcony... and met up downstairs with Alexander Trager.”

“Great fiction.”  Jax replies. Although in his mind, the wheels are turning. He knows Bobby and Tig would never rat, so someone had to be tailing them to know that.  

“Eyewitness fiction.” Stahl counters. “If you confess now, the attorney might go lenient. Maybe get you a better deal to maybe see your unborn child get married at least. Do you know what you’re having?”

Jax clenches his jaw. “Are we done here?”

“Is there anything you would like me to tell your family? I know that she is due soon.”

Jax doesn’t bother with a reply. 

“I would think about your family Jax. You’re going to be doing years. I can’t imagine a child only knowing their father in prison clothes.”

.

.

Clay can feel the other parents glaring at him, but he doesn’t fucking care. With Jax being in jail, Gemma handling the garage and family business, and Alma running errands to deal with Jax's future sentence, Clay is on babysitting duty. 

He is not really complaining. He loves being around his grandchildren. He loves every minute being with them. Though now, the reason parents are glaring at him, outside of him smoking his Cuban cigars, were the visitors he was getting at the playground. 

Usually Clay does his best to separate his business from family life. He knows Alma will have his ass on a sling if he finds out he was handling business at a wooden picnic table. However, with Jax locked up, business needed to be handled and he needed to figure out how to make sure his son can come home on a reasonable time frame. 

Clay looks over his shoulder to find his grandchildren causing havoc on the slides. He smiles before he almost drops his cigar at the site of Rosen. Usually, Lowen, Rosen’s associate, would get her fancy pumps dirty to deliver messages. 

He knows it must be serious and for a minute he is scared shitless he is about to deliver the worst. 

“Clay,” Rosen greets as he reaches the table. 

“Is it Jax?” Clay asks. 

“Surprisingly, no,” Rosen says as he sits opposite of him. “I got a message from Opie.”

Clay’s eyebrows skyrocket. 

“I should say Lenny’s lawyer reached out to me with a message from Opie.” Rosen clarifies. 

Clay doesn’t even want to know how in the hell Opie managed to get a message to Lenny, who is in Stockton, from Chino. 

“And how much are you charging me to deliver this message?” Clay quips. 

Rosen doesn’t banter as he looks at Clay in the eyes. “Opie says the Feds have gone to see him. A few times and even with the added threat to tack on more to his sentence.”

“Why?”

“Apparently someone is talking to the Feds. Gave a detailed list to the Feds of a bunch of alleged crimes Opie and Jax partook in. I mean it’s a lot of shit that goes back to their prospect years.”

What the fuck.

“Is it just Opie and Jax?” Clay asks. 

“He said there is some other shit that is more broad, but specifics are mostly him and Jax.” Rosen tells him. “Now before you say anything damning, I’m gonna go. We never had this conversation.”

Clay seethes as he watches Rosen walk away. Of all the things he expected to hear. There is a goddamn rat at the table. And he knows who the fuck it is. The goddamn fucking rat. 

“Fucking Kyle…” Tig mutters. 

“You put a goddamn tail on him.” Clay seethes quietly. “Call Happy down here. Download him. Figure what Kyle’s been up to.”

“On it boss.” Tig says as he pulls out his phone and walks away. 

Clay regrets that he didn’t see this coming. He failed as the President by not realizing the potential fallout of patching out Kyle. 

“Grandpa! Push me on the swings, please!” Kaylee yells out. 

Clay looks at his granddaughter. Her smile is a carbon copy of Jax’s. 

Kyle won’t be shown any type of mercy.

.

.

.

Alma finds it hard to sleep at night. It’s not that she isn’t tired. She is and the baby is sucking the life out of her. It is just that her mind won’t stop. Her thoughts won’t let her rest. It’s not like she can exactly go to a therapist to talk about the shit she lives through. 

But she knows she can’t go on for long like this. She does need to think about her children. She believes if she wasn’t pregnant her emotions wouldn’t be as severe. She would be able to pull back and let things simmer. She would be able to wade through the water before finding a crystal clear path. 

Besides, the last thing she needs is for Jax to be worrying about her. She needs to get it together. Nathan shouldn’t have seen her crying like that. She feels awful that he had to comfort her. She should have shed her tears alone in her bedroom where the cold is prominent on Jax’s side of the bed. 

“Mommy?”

Alma turns from where she is sitting at her vanity. She finds Kaylee standing behind the door in her purple pajamas. 

Alma smiles. “And what are you doing out of bed?”

Kaylee smiles sheepishly as she walks further into the room. Alma’s heart breaks a little to think that her baby is about to be five years old. It seems only yesterday she gave birth to her little girl. She was still changing her diapers. Now, she will be starting school. 

“I couldn’t sleep, Mommy,” Kaylee replies. Kaylee stands in front of her mother. Her attention focused solely on the cosmetics and beauty items laid out. 

���Couldn’t sleep? And why is that?” Alma questions. 

Kaylee gives her a mischievous smile. A smile that she knows that she inherited from Jax, Alma has seen that smile many times. 

“You’re very pretty, Mommy.” Kaylee says with a blush. “I want to be pretty like you.”

“You’ll be prettier than me when you’re older.” Alma says as Kaylee plays with the brushes on the counter. 

“Daddy says you are the most beautiful girl alive.” Kaylee tells her. 

“Did he?” Alma asks. She is at least grateful Jax’s absence hasn’t affected Kaylee’s love and fond reminiscents of Jax.

Kaylee smiles. “Can I brush your hair, Mommy?”

“Of course. Let’s move to the bed so you can reach me alright.”

Kaylee beams and hastily gets on the bed. Alma moves to the edge and her little girl is eager to start brushing. 

“Your hair is getting so long.” Kaylee says as she runs the brush through her long dark locks. 

“Do you think I should cut it?” 

“We both can get haircuts!” Kaylee decides. 

Alma laughs. “We’ll see after the baby is born.”

Kaylee brushes for a few more moments and then stops as she settles next to her mother. Her small hand is timid as she reaches out and places her palm against her protruding stomach. 

“I’m sad.” Kaylee announces. 

Alma frowns as she wraps her arms around her daughter. “Why are you sad, Baby?”

“Because you’re sad that Daddy isn’t here.”

“Kaylee,” Alma says shakenly. Alma isn’t even sure how to respond to that. 

“Do you think the baby will be sad?”

This Alma can answer. “No, the baby will be happy. They will have you and Nathan as a big brother and sister. They’ll be happy. And…Daddy will come home one day.”

“You promise?” Kaylee asks her with wide brown eyes. Alma’s heart almost breaks as she is reminded of a similar conversation she had with her own mother when her father went to prison. Her father never came home. 

“How bout you sleep with Mommy tonight. I’ll feel better when I wake up in the morning.”

.

.

It’s been a weird few days. Clay has been quiet on what’s going on with Jax. Alma doesn’t focus on it. Her main focus needs to be on her kids and she is just lucky her mom hasn’t gone on a soapbox about her situation. 

Besides, she promised the kids a camping trip in the backyard. She is sort of looking forward to it herself as she fills her cart up with marshmallows and chocolate. She wonders if she can borrow the Prospect to help. If anything it might be a vacation for him. 

She is leaving the aisle when her cart almost hits someone. 

“Sorry.” Alma says apologizing. 

“It’s alright, Mrs. Teller.”

Alma freezes at the sight of Stahl. “Agent Stahl, I would say it’s been nice to see you.”

Stahl presses her lips in a flat line. “Considering I am feeling generous, I would pick up tomorrow’s paper.”

“I think I would rather not.”

Stahl licks her lips. “I mean you had to see this coming? This life you lead and if your husband would talk he might get to see his youngest graduate from high school.”

“Screw you.”

“Any bit of cooperation can help your husband.”

Alma laughs bitterly. “If anything the very least you can let me talk to my husband.”

Alma walks away from Stahl and goes to check out, but the skinny agent follows her. “You know I get it.”

“Get what?”

“The struggle you must feel. Wanting to give your kids a good life and raise your kids with their father. But it’s a fine line though right. You’re about to be on the verge of repeating the cycle. After all, your father never came home from prison.”

Alma whips around to look at Stahl. She almost can’t believe the words that escaped the agent's mouth. 

Alma opens her mouth, but a pained gasp escapes her lips. 

“Mrs. Teller, you okay?”

Alma feels her lower body tighten. She looks down between her legs and finds blood spreading. 

.

.

Jax had been doing his daily workout routine when the guards had come to his cell. Usually they make some smart aleck remark and  there would be some light hearted banter. Today, there was none of that. The men were quiet as they escorted him to the small visitation room. As he sat and waited for Stahl, he wondered what bullshit she was going to sprout on him. 

He thought she would be up his ass the whole time during his stay, but she surprisingly left him alone. 

He is waiting for a couple minutes before Stahl presents herself and he doesn’t miss that the camera is turned off. She doesn’t greet him. She walks stiffly to her seat. She has no papers. Nothing. She just sits and stares blankly at him. 

“You got something you wanna say?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Stahl looks at him blankly. Jax feels he isn’t going to like what is going to come out of her mouth. That is the usual feeling with her, but this time something is extremely off. Something is wrong. 

She clears her throat. “I wanted to give you this news in person.”

Jax leans back in his chair. “Well, that doesn't sound good.”

Stahl chews on her bottom lip before she sits up straighter and looks him in the eyes. She folds her hands across the table top. “Your wife, Alma, she’s in the hospital.”

Jax’s spine stiffens. “What are you talkin' about?”

“She had a miscarriage. I can’t tell you what exactly went wrong, but it was a close call for her. She lost a lot of blood.”

Jax doesn’t say anything as he looks up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You make it sound like you were there.”

“I was the one to call the ambulance. She was at the store when it happened.” Stahl reveals to him. “There was a witness who fingered you. We also got some corroborating statements from Kyle Hobart about past crimes.”

“Why are you tellin' me this?”

“We'll be charging you with Hefner's murder. U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty. I guess I'm feeling guilty about the pain your wife and children will go through.” 

Jax shakes his head. “I’m surprised you feel anything.”

Stahl stands up. “He was a boy, by the way. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Stahl leaves the visiting room. Jax doesn’t even wait to be taken back to his room as he breaks down in tears.