#cam cameron fanfiction

[girlkisser13]

you belong with me

"can't you see that i'm the one who understands you" "been here all along so why can't you see" "you belong with me"

pairings: cam cameron x fem!reader

warnings/tags: fluff with a hint of angst. some belly slander (sorry not sorry).

summary: after cam gets rejected by belly, he goes to seek the comfort of his best friend.

cam stood frozen, watching belly walk away, her parting words lingering painfully in the summer air. “i’m sorry, cam. i can’t do this anymore.” the ache in his chest was profound, like a wave crashing over him, threatening to pull him under.

belly had always been elusive, her heart torn between conrad and jeremiah. he had known this, but he hoped he could be different, that he could make her see him. but in the end, he was just another fleeting moment in her complicated love life.

feeling lost, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message. “y/n, can you meet me at my place?”

your heart ached when you saw the message. you were in love with cam, but he had never seen you that way. still, you were his best friend, and you would be there for him, no matter what.

you found cam sitting on the porch of his house, staring out at the ocean. his face was a mask of sorrow. your heart broke for him, but a small part of you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope now that belly was out of the picture.

“hey, cam,” you said softly, sitting beside him. “what happened?”

cam sighed heavily. “belly broke up with me. she said it wasn’t working out.”

you rolled your eyes. “belly doesn’t know what she wants. she’s always been like that. you deserve so much better than her, cam.”

cam looked at you, a sad smile on his face. “thanks, y/n. i just don’t get it. what did i do wrong?”

you took a deep breath, deciding to take a chance. “you didn’t do anything wrong. belly is just… she’s always chasing after things she can’t have. she didn’t appreciate you the way you deserved to be appreciated. you’re amazing, cam, and you need someone who sees that.”

cam’s eyes softened. “you really think so?”

you nodded, your heart pounding. “i know so. and i… i need to tell you something. i’ve been in love with you for a long time, cam. i’ve tried to be happy for you and belly, but it’s been hard. i just... i think you belong with someone who truly appreciates you. someone like me."

cam looked stunned, processing your words. you quickly added, “but i understand if you need time to heal. i don’t expect anything right now. i just needed you to know how i feel.”

cam stared at you, his mind racing. your confession had taken him by surprise, but it also felt like a missing piece falling into place. he reached out, taking your hand. “y/n, i… i’ve been in love with you too. i think i’ve always known, deep down. belly was… she was a distraction. i think i was just trying to convince myself i didn’t feel this way about you, but i do. i think always have.”

your eyes filled with hope and apprehension. "i don't want you to think you're in love with me, cam. i want you to know, without a doubt. just like i do."

before he could respond, you stood up, your heart heavy. "i'll give you some space. i think you’ll need it."

you began walking toward your car, but cam quickly followed. "y/n, wait."

you turned to face him, a mix of hope and fear in your eyes. he stepped closer, his voice earnest. "do you want to know how i know i’m in love with you? it’s because of your kindness, your patience, and your understanding. you've always been there, even when i was too blind to see it. i’ve never met anyone like you. and i don’t want to. i don’t want to meet anyone else. you’re it for me."

your eyes filled with tears of joy as you realized that he truly felt the same way.

you ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck as your lips met in a passionate kiss.

when the two of you finally pulled apart, cam held you close, whispering, "i love you, y/n. i always have. i’m so sorry for not realizing it sooner."

you smiled through your tears, your heart full. "i love you too, cam. and it’s okay. thanks for finally seeing me."

as you kissed him again, the sun dipped below the horizon, symbolizing the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. you knew that whatever the future held, the two of you would face it together, better than ever before.

[ayatotiddies]

OMG OMG OMG band!rafe overstimulating you after you flirted with another guy at his show

🥁- 🎸 Band!Rafe who is just so mean ;(

Warnings - 18+ MDNI - Porn with little plot, No Established Relationship (But they both act like it), Hair pulling, Name calling (Whore, Dumb Bitch, Babydoll, Mine, Little thing, Angel, Baby, Sweet thing), Degradation, Slight Praise, Spit, Fingering, Sir kink, Slapping, Biting, Oral (Fem Receiving), Overstimulation. - NOT PROOF READ <3

Moodboard - Here 🎸

A/N - I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!! I FEAR YOU COOKED!..

You should’ve expected it, it was your fault after all! You wanted to be all cute n’shit and flirt with a guy at Rafe’s show? Nah, that wasn’t how this worked; he wasn’t going to let that slide.

A harsh slap arrived to your face.

“Pay attention, fuck is wrong with you, huh?” He spat and gripped at your scalp. It hurt so bad, but felt so good.. Maybe you needed to flirt with guys more often, but that was just a thought. You wouldn’t dare say it to his face. He looked so delicious in that dirty white wife beater. The sweat on his tan skin, you could see the way his muscles flexed when he pulled your hair.

“You’re such a whore, ya’know that right? Flirting with that dumbass at my show. Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to come find you when I was done. Treat you like the dumb bitch you are?”

He snorted when all he got was a shaky nod on your end. Another tug of your pretty locks, rushing you to stand up. He didn’t care that your mascara was smeared from him making you cry. If anything it turned him on more. You deserved this. So when he dragged you off to a bedroom in this huge house. You didn’t complain. You knew better.

“Speak to me babydoll,” he whispered into the crook of your neck. You were laid so pretty underneath him. His words were the opposite of the foul language he spoke earlier.

“Jus’ want you to pay attention to me, n’ love on me.”

He hummed softly at your soft spoken words. Kissing down your neck and stopping to bite down hard where your neck and shoulder connected. Causing a harsh gasp to leave your throat and that sadistic grin to cover his face. He snickered and kissed the area. Which was red with his bite mark imprinted into your skin.

“You’re mine, ya’know that right?” The question was inevitable.

“I’m yours.”

But your response was heavenly. The blonde man grinned, diving down between your legs. Your legs were spread and shoved upwards. His rough fingers toying with your clothed cunt. Rubbing slow and steady over the wet patch, making you whine.

“Rafe just hurry up!”

“Tsk, such a needy little thing. You want my attention that bad? Don’t worry, I’ll make you regret it.”

And did he keep his word… your panties were torn off of your legs. His fingers making quick work at spreading your folds so he could see your fluttering hole. The scoff that left him was embarrassing, even more so when it was because of how wet you were. He rolled his tongue and seconds later there was a glob of spit sliding down your clit, headed towards your pretty hole.

Rafe hummed to himself, his thumb running over the dripping spit and shoving it into you. A soft gasp leaving your lips when he replaced his thumb with two fingers. One of your legs was thrown over his shoulders, allowing him to kiss up and down your inner thigh. Occasionally leaving bite marks while he thrusted his fingers into you.

“Doing s’good f’me, right angel?”

A grin forming on his face when you moaned out a yes. His teeth grazing your inner thigh.

“Yes what?” His voice was low and gravelly.

“Yes sir!” You rushed out, head thrown back into the pillow. Your pretty fingers tangled in his dark blonde hair.

A soft huff of enjoyment left the man’s lips. But not before your hips bucked up. The soft kisses he was leaving so close to your clit was just too much. Occasionally kissing it when he wasn’t rubbing the bud with his thumb. You just wanted to cum… was that too much to ask for?

“Rafe,” a whining plead left your lips. His pretty blue eyes glaring up at you. “Wanna cum,” you whined, hips bucking up towards his face. His hands roughly pushing them back down.

“You wanna cum that bad?” He teased, watching the tears and watery black mascara run down your face. Loud whines and moans echoing around the room as you nodded. “Mm, don’t worry baby. You will” he confirmed.

Moments later his pretty nose bumped your clit when he dropped his head down. Earning a loud moan from you. He grinned and licked upwards, stopping on your clit, drawing figure eights with his tongue. You couldn’t help but tug on his hair, making him grunt. The gasps and moans that left your lips were heavenly. He didn’t want to stop. Even after your first orgasm approached and you came all over his face.

“That’s my girl.” He murmured into your pretty pussy, lapping up every drop of your cum. Just as you went to sit up, he yanked your legs back down over his shoulders, his fingers were long withdrawn from you. Both of his hands kept a harsh grip on your thighs.

“Rafe- RafeRafe!” Your shouts were relentless but he didn’t let up. Tugging on his scalp was your only option but it didn’t seem to help. Just made him want more. He finally pulled back, giving your clit a second to rest before his thumb found the bud.

“What is it? Hm, sweet thing?” His wet lips kissed up and down your inner thighs. “You wanted my attention, I’m giving it to you.” and before you could speak he went back to lapping at your dripping cunt. Not giving you a break.

Your second orgasm was pulled from you quickly after. And then your third. And then you lost count. All your mushy brain could remember was Rafe letting up when he finally got you to squirt on his face.

He was just giving you the attention you wanted <3 even if that meant you getting overstimulated.

You weren’t done yet either… he still had to get his nut in.

@annoyingassleo @rafesno1bae @rafecameronsbunny @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesthroatbaby @mackenzie-maybank

[hapinesbuterfiy]

casual - rafe cameron ೨౿

🎧🪩 casual - chappell roan

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: you and rafe have been casually seeing each other for what feels like forever now, but is your relationship really casual?

warnings: angsty, rafe is a dick in some parts, not proofread!!

"baby, no attachment" is a phrase you know all too well, one that rafe cameron whispers to you between passionate kisses, before getting on his knees and devouring your pussy in the passenger seat of his jeep. nothings official between you two. you're relationship is casual, according to rafe. he's confusing, to say the least.

rafe could be all over you, wrapping his arms around your waist in front of the entire club, drunkenly telling you how beautiful you looked. he'd call you in the middle of the night, to say "m' pickin' you up be ready in 5. we'll go to that diner you like, i miss your face." you spent countless nights with each other, sharing your deepest secrets and the most intimate parts of yourselves. your favorite bra is still in his dresser from the first time you hooked up, and he refuses to give it back to you because he likes the "constant reminder of your tits." you even got invited to spend a weekend with him and his family in paradise island.

but you're relationship is casual. right?

you hate yourself for letting it drag out this long. rafe's different around his friends, distant. there are even rumors going around that you're "just a girl he bangs on the couch." you try your best to be nonchalant and give him his space, but deep down you know you're not capable of that.

it's casual but you spend hours on late-night phone calls, having the deepest conversations and confiding in each other with things you have never told anyone else. you're his casual hook-up but picks you up in the middle of the night to take you back to tannyhill because he misses you. so really, is it casual? no.

it's 1:52 am. you find yourself underneath your plush duvet cover, you're small reading light illuminating the space, on facetime with rafe, again. you always carefully listen to everything he has to say, trying your best to console him, especially when it comes to everything going on with his dad. however, this time it's different. you're sick of the constant state of confusion he puts you in, you decide that now is the perfect opportunity for you to confront him about it.

"rafe. can you come pick me up? i wanna talk to you about something." you're soft-spoken but your tone is stern, you're not going to allow yourself to continue to play these games with him, you want answers.

he's unfazed by your request, simply grumbling in response. you can hear his bed squeak as he gets up and grabs his keys off his nightstand. he mumbles "mhm, text when i'm there." before ending the call.

you rush to your dresser, throwing on your favorite brandy melville set and fuzzy slippers, he'll be here soon. rafe's massive headlights could be seen from down the block, you didn't need him to text you to be aware of his arrival.

you step up into the passenger seat, carefully shutting the door behind you as you get into the truck.

"hi. missed you today. what did you wanna talk about?" he motions his hand toward your thigh, gripping the soft flesh under your shorts. the truck was freezing. you could feel the goosebumps appear throughout your limbs as you sat their, you're only relief from the cold being rafe's hands.

"rafe... i know you said no attachment but i can't do this whole casual thing anymore. 'm not that kinda girl." you're eyes dart down to the carpet beneath your seat, trying you're best to avoid contact with him until he responds. .

he lets out a large, exasperated sigh as he removes his hand from your thigh, brushing his fingers through his greasy curtain bangs as he shakes his head.

"listen kid. alright? 'm not in the headspace to be in a relationship right now. i don't wanna get into anythin' serious. i don't wanna hurt you. yea?" he brings his focus back to the road ahead of him, driving around in circles as his firmly grips the wheel.

your face drops. you're in complete disbelief that he had the audacity to say that to you. "you don't wanna hurt me? are you fuckin' kidding me? rafe you're casual bullshit has been hurting me for the past six months." you begin to yell, anger completely taking over you.

he pulls over, not wanting to get distracted while driving, he knows how much you hate it when he doesn't pay attention to the roads. "hurting you huh? so you mean to tell me that i'm hurtin' you by buying you shit, listening to your rants, and givin' you the best sex you ever fuckin' had? really?" he throws his arms up in defense, licking his lips while eyeing you down.

you could feel the tears starting to spill out from your eyes. you manage to let out a "rafe it's not fair, i can't just do casual" between sniffles, you place your head into your hands as you continue to sob into them. oh shit— he knows he fucked up.

he parts his lips, letting out a large exhale as he tries to come up with a quick way to calm you down. he moves his body so his torso is situated above the glove box, making it easier to reach you. he pulls you into his arms, wiping the tears off of your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, pepping soft kisses to the top of your head.

"sh. i know. i know. 'm big bad rafe cameron yea? 'm sorry i hurt you. i gotta figure my shit out. 'm gonna take you back to my place, we'll talk about it in the mornin' alright?"

you nod in response, embarrassed that you let yourself break down like this in front of him. you know it's wrong, but maybe you weren't delusional after all. maybe when you wake up in the morning you wont be casual anymore.

[biggestsimponhere]

I wasn’t gonna talk about it, hoping someone else would say it but I’ve seen it too many times now. PLEASE DO NOT tag ships that are NOT in the fanfic. If it’s a fic for Conrad I don’t want to see “Cam Cameron x reader” or “Jeremiah fisher x reader” in the tags. Please tag your fics with the correct ship if it’s Jeremiah fisher x reader just tag it “Jeremiah Fisher x reader” if there’s other characters that ARE NOT with the reader just tag their name without the X reader. I know you want to have more tags so more people see it but there are plenty of other tags such as the show name or “TSITP Characters x reader”, anyways thank you for coming to my rant.

I’ve seen one to many fics tagged wrong and i’ve been searching for conrad fics and over half of them are jeremiah fics. LEAVE ME ALONE.

If you’re fic is currently tagged with the wrong ship tags please go fix it. i’m so serious. i’ll start crying

I’m sorry if this comes off bitchy I just would please like fics to be tagged correctly so I can read what I was actually looking for <3

THIS GOES FOR ALL FANDOMS BTW!!!!

PLEASE TAG YOUR FICS CORRECTLY, I LOVE YOU ALL, THANK YOU FOR FEEDING US FANFICS 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[neytirisheaven]

THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY MASTERLIST ் ༘

[ ↷ m. masterlist ]

[ ❏   legend   , ]

✿   fluff     !    ☁︎   angst    !    ★   smut     !

♥︎   personal favorite     !    ✓   complete     !

ᝰ   currently writing     !

❛ jeremiah fisher ❜

𓄼 oneshots 𓄹

ᝰ  |  kiss you then forget you:

( crush culture,   conan gray )

☁︎✿

IN WHICH you and jeremiah were the happiest couple in boston, and nothing could come between the two of you . . . until he left for cousins

ᝰ  |  i need you, baby, to warm these lonely nights:

( can't take my eyes off you,   frankie valli )

✿

IN WHICH you've been grounded for two weeks and you were beginning to go crazy, and jeremiah has just the right solution to all your problems

𓄼 mini-fics 𓄹

tba

❛ steven conklin ❜

𓄼 oneshots 𓄹

ᝰ  |  i used to think we'd make it far:

( pain,   pinkpantheress )

☁︎

IN WHICH being best friends with steven conklin was proving to be the most difficult task you would've ever been assigned, and shayla and taylor weren't making it any easier

ᝰ  |  you know my heart can't take the pain:

( loverboy,   a-wall )

☁︎✿

IN WHICH you, the youngest fisher child, and steven have grown up together, and you've made it a point to flirt with each other every single summer . . . but this time, it hurts

𓄼 mini-fics 𓄹

tba

❛ cam cameron ❜

𓄼 oneshots 𓄹

ᝰ  |  i fall in love too easily:

( i fall in love too easily,   chet baker )

☁︎✿

IN WHICH it feels like love at first sight when you first lay your eyes on cameron, but of course, like every other boy you've liked, his heart has already been captured by the one and only belly conklin

ᝰ  |  my youth is yours:

( youth,   troye sivan )

✿

IN WHICH you're originally a rebound for cameron, and if nothing more, you would be happy to devote all your youth to him and being his rebound

𓄼 mini-fics 𓄹

tba

[all-pacas]

and pretend it's enough three times allison cameron was not pregnant.

“What will you do if you are?” Chase asked finally, resting his arms on the table. It was the obvious question, the obvious conversation, and one they were more than capable of having: calm and medical and objective, but his eyes were grayish in the dim and he did not sound medical or objective.

“What will you do if I am?” Cameron retorted.

“Propose,” Chase said, and looked so abjectly miserable that she could not muster offense or a counter argument. In the years to come, she would learn about his parents and sister, born to save a marriage that was already over. A part of her recoiled. A part of her went: that would be the right thing to do. She did not want to marry Chase, and he did not yet want to marry her. But it was right, she thought. It was the right thing to do.

[g-girlshavingfun]

A sister’s vigil: 5 times Rachel visited her sister in hospital, and 1 time she didn’t.

4/6

Word count: 5,978

When Rachel arrived at the hospital, there was a man holding her sister’s hand.

Holding wasn’t quite the right word. Cradling, grasping, or clutching was probably more accurate. His hand engulfed hers, probably could’ve wrapped itself around both of them, and it was clenched so tight white spots appeared on his knuckles. He wasn’t squeezing though, he seemed almost afraid to apply any pressure at all in fact, so Abby’s pale simply lay limp in his grip.

It was enraging.

———————————————————————

Chapter 4

When Rachel was fifteen, her mother received a phone call from a Mr Nula with the CIA’s human resources department. He informed her in apathetic tones that Micheal Cameron’s task force had encountered unexpected resistance on their assignment in Berlin, that her husband had been gravely injured in the line of duty, that she and perhaps her daughters should make their way to headquarters where they would be transported to the hospital he was taken to. Rachel wasn’t present when the call was made, too busy reading her sister a bedtime story, but her mother recounted the phone call to her several times as they sat in the hospital waiting room, Abby curled up sleeping in her lap.

Over two decades later, Rachel was called into a meeting at Langley with Agent Gordon, a man only a few steps down from the director. With Matthew, Joe, and Abby all out of the country, there was no one to wind her up about disciplinary action, nor anyone to talk her down from ruminating about the last mistake she made on an assignment, so she made the trip to level 20 in a state of general unease. The conversation was short, and almost impersonal, as Agent Gordon informed her that her husband had now missed 3 call ins. That agents, including Agents Solomon and Cameron, had been dispatched to his last known location to orchestrate a search. That she could not tell anyone without level 5 or above clearance, but that Matthew Morgan was officially considered missing.

The next few weeks consisted of lying to her daughter, taking afternoons off work to search through Matthew’s notes and files, resisting the urge to fly to Europe and look for him herself. But Matthews parents couldn’t be clued in to what was going on, and with Abby already in Rome there was no one left that Rachel truly trusted to watch her daughter, not when she didn’t know why Matthew was missing. She had nearly convinced herself everything would be fine. Two of the best agents she knew were out there tracking him down, and they all knew Matthew couldn’t stay away from his family for too long, but then she got a knock on her door one afternoon.

She doesn’t remember much of the conversation with Joe and the senior agents who came to deliver the news. An agent’s memory is their first line of offence and defence, but Rachel can only remember the crushing feeling of despair that swept over her, the air freezing in her lungs, the pit cracking open in her chest. She remembers her vision of Joe’s clenched jaw and averted eyes blurring as someone uttered the words “declared dead”, the sound of his shaken apologies as the others agents saw themselves out, the feel of his arms cradling her when her knees gave way the second the door closed. She remembers thinking this is it, nothing can be worse than this.

How am I gonna tell Cammie?

All in all, Rachel was used to receiving bad news from the agency, and she knew how they went about it. A meeting was bad, and a home visit was worse, but a phone call wasn’t terrible in comparison.

Something she tried to remember as she received a phone call from an unknown number in her office one Thursday evening in Spring.

“Identify yourself.”

Rachel didn’t think that was completely necessary given they called her, and Langley are fully aware aware of the fingerprint ID needed to answer this particular phone.

“Rachel Morgan, headmistress of The Gallagher Academy.”

“…”

“Former CIA agent.”

Her voice neither broke on the word former, nor rose in the tone of a question, but it took a lot of Rachel’s willpower to stop it doing either.

“Is this line secure?”

No, the headmistress of the largest and most secure clandestine school in the country operates from a bugged office with a tapped phone line. Rachel didn’t resist rolling her eyes, its not like the mystery man on the other line could see her.

“It is.”

“This is Agent Lockwood, badge number 41098234-PY, clearance level 8. I’m calling in regards to an incident in which a fellow agent was injured in the line of duty. You are listed as their emergency contact.”

Rachel’s heart fell out of her chest.

She was the emergency contact for two agents. She had been Joe’s ever since Matthew had disappeared, had died, partly because it made more sense to nominate his friend who spent 35 weeks of the year in the same building, partly because his only other friend was not known for her reliability. She had been Abby’s since she first joined the CIA. There was a brief period where Abby and Matthew had secretly changed them to each other because Abby thought you’d appreciate it, we just didn’t want to worry you if anything went wrong darling! A sharp look to her husband and a stern lecture-turned-argument with her sister had them changing back pretty quickly.

She was the emergency contact for two agents, both of whom Rachel knew were on assignments. Joe was on an off-the-books wild-goose-chase to an undisclosed location looking for a trail from either her husband or the terrorist organisation they suspected had a hand in his disappearance. He had left a coded note on a piece of evapopaper taped to the underside of the postbox she could see out her office window, as per his promise to Matthew to stay in touch should something happen to him. Abby had been on a collaborative deep-cover assignment with someone from Six in Argentina for months. She had called one of Rachel's burners in the middle of the night and left a voicemail when she predictably didn’t pick up, honouring the promise she had made two years prior to keep her sister in the loop, but tactfully avoiding any kind of emotional confrontation or goodbye.

She was the emergency contact for two agents, for two people she loved, and one of them was hurt. Badly. Langley didn’t inform emergency contacts unless it was bad.

“…yes?”

Rachel’s willpower was wavering, voice ever so close to choking on the glass in her throat.

“The agency were informed last night of an incident in Buenos Aires-”

Rachel’s vision began to swim, blood pounding in her ears, and she hated herself slightly for the second where she wished he would’ve named some arbitrary European city instead of where her little sister was stationed.

“-involving Agent Cameron and an MI6 operative. The operative’s primary mission objective had been met when they received a tip about unrelated and undisclosed clandestine activities in the area. Despite being advised to wait for backup on account of injuries already sustained on their assignment, Agent Cameron opted to investigate. Yesterday morning she carried out a lone infiltrative opera-“

“Lockwood.”

Cam joked that her Mom voice had become an even scarier teacher voice when she took this job. That she so easily commanded the attention of her staff and students, got them to confess to their wrongdoings with a single word, and had the girls of the school hanging off everything she said, because she had spent Cammie’s entire life practising.

Grace had laughed when she heard this, stating that Cammie and the girls obviously didn’t know that her operative voice had come first. Matthew had always said that it sounded remarkably similar to her wife voice, at least the one which he didn’t like. Of course all of them failed to remember that before she was an operative, a wife, a mother, or a teacher, she was an older sister. That the sharp tone which cut through Agent Lockwood’s account of an assignment gone awry originated as a big sister voice.

“Where is my sister now?”

“BAMC. She was airlifted there this morning. She’s stable at the moment bu-“

“I’ll be there in 4 hours.”

With that she hung up the phone and tried to make a plan.

She needed to charter a plane. She could catch a flight out of DCA but that was a good hours drive away where the nearest airfield was 10 minutes down the road. San Antonio was a few hours away by private jet, but Rachel was pretty sure she could convince Langley to foot the bill for the journey by reminding them of her missing husband and the funds they refused to put towards extending a search for him.

She needed to inform Patricia. Not least because someone needed to run the school in the few days to weeks she planned to be absent, nor just because of the fondness Rachel knew the former MI5 operative had for her wayward little sister. No, Rachel needs to speak to Patricia because she may know what to say to slow the racing of her heart, ease the aching in her chest, relieve the pounding behind her eyes.

Or maybe she should call Joe.

Should she tell Cammie?

No.

Cammie had enough to worry about. She had a Culture and Assimilation exam tomorrow, and an ongoing disagreement between Bex and Tina to navigate, and the endless trauma of turning 15, and her Father was already gone. She didn’t need to worry about her aunt on top of all that. That’s been Rachel and Abby’s thinking for the past couple years, ever since Cammie became acutely aware of how fragile the lives of spies are. Since she fully understood what exactly her family did for a living. Since Abby started dedicating almost all her spare time to looking for leads on Matthew and coming up empty handed. Cammie didn’t need to know how futile it was, how much danger her aunt put herself in, how close she’s come to losing another member of her already too small family.

She would get Patricia to tell Cammie that she was pulled away on something for an old case and that she’d be back sometime next week. She wouldn’t question that. They could reschedule Sunday dinner for when she returns, maybe Rachel would give her an update then, depending on how bad it is.

Charter a plane, speak to Patricia, get to the airfield, leave a message for Joe, get to her sister. That was her plan, one step at a time, Abby would be fine.

Rachel prayed that she was right.

———————————————————————

When Rachel arrived at the hospital, there was a man holding her sister’s hand.

Holding wasn’t quite the right word. Cradling, grasping, or clutching was probably more accurate. His hand engulfed hers, probably could’ve wrapped itself around both of them, and it was clenched so tight white spots appeared on his knuckles. He wasn’t squeezing though, he seemed almost afraid to apply any pressure at all in fact, so Abby’s pale simply lay limp in his grip.

He looked tall and broad, though Rachel couldn’t be sure at the moment. He sat hunched in his chair, back slouching and shoulders tucked into his chest. Bowed head and rounded neck, he had essentially curled himself around the air above Abby despite looking like a man who usually sat pinpoint straight. Like he usually had a wooden cross nailed to his spine, pulling his shoulder blades back and and pushing his chest out, propping his head up and jutting his chin outward in a pompous manner. Right now he appeared to be a marionette with his strings cut, tired and lifeless.

His trembling jaw gave the impression of a couple morning shaves missed, and his dark hair was overgrown on top but badly clipped around his ears, like someone had taken a pair of kitchen shears to his head. Rachel remembered Joe coming home from a mission with a similarly bad haircut once, and when asked about it he just scowled and asked how a woman who spent her formative years receiving lessons on both needlework and blades training could be so bad at using scissors. Rachel wondered if the man hated the trim, he looked like a man who went to the same Barbour for the same haircut whenever he could manage it, but looking at him now he didn’t seem to care.

His eyes were sunken. Blue, from what Rachel could make out. Not a bright blue like her husband’s and daughter’s, but something deeper and darker, the evening sky before a storm, complete with redness carving through the whites of his eyes like lightning. Bags sagged at the skin beneath his lower lids, and the dampness of recent tears glistened on long eyelashes decorating the upper.

He was clearly exhausted. And devastated.

It was enraging.

Rachel shut the door behind her with more force than necessary, enjoying the way the man flinched, how he rapidly let go of her sisters hand though didn’t move far enough that his pinky didn’t touch hers. Immediately, it was like life was injected back into him. The marionette strings tightened on his spine, pulling him straight and tensing his muscles. His knuckles relaxed, his jaw tightened, and his eyes cleared. He almost looked like an agent as he angled his head slightly towards her and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Mrs Morgan.”

It wasn’t his nationality that surprised her, she had assumed that this was the MI6 agent who Abby had been working with, so the English accent didn’t surprise her. Nor did the subtleties in the accent. Beyond the mixed veil of exhaustion and Queen’s English that she presumed he picked up at some fancy boarding school and strengthened at Oxbridge, Rachel could detect a slight lilt. Not like Abe and Bex’s London twang, nor like Grace’s northern twang, but something subtle that suggested he didn’t grow up where the rest of his demeanour suggested he did. But Rachel had assumed that too. She had encountered plenty of men who grew up with status, and by the time they were this age they forgot to act like it, losing their good posture and surface level manners to the novelty of sweatpants and sleazy pickup lines. In Rachel’s experience, it tended to be men who grew up ashamed of how little they had that ended up presenting themselves like this man.

So it wasn’t the man’s accent that surprised her, but the fact that he knew her name. She supposed it shouldn’t, she knew her and her sister shared a strong resemblance, and that Abby wasn’t unlikely to mention her existence to someone she half-trusted, but Rachel didn’t know who this man was. She didn’t like that he knew her on sight when she didn’t have a name to attach to his face. Didn’t like that she was starting this conversation on the back-foot.

The man must’ve seen something in her eyes that reflected unease, or maybe he felt uneasy himself at the silence that stretched before them, because he angled further towards her and continued talking.

“Agent Townsend, MI6. I’m your Abigail’s- I’m her- We’re-“

Rachel felt the frown on her face deepen as he stumbled on his words. His cheeks didn’t pinken; he wasn’t embarrassed. He didn’t seem like a man who was unsure of himself or his words, and yet he couldn’t quite figure out how to express how he knew her sister.

“Your sister and I worked together on this assignment.”

Townsend was a name that did ring bells. If Rachel thought back to years ago, she could remember her sister returning from a cover in Romania complaining about some British upstart who nearly blew her operation, how she ended up having to work with the arrogant bastard for weeks. Could remember her bringing him up unprompted for the next couple of months, earning a few raised eyebrows from Matthew and hidden sniggers from Joe. They had worked together a few more times over the years, Rachel remembered. Sometimes joined by Abe, who described the man as cocky but dependable, and once by Matthew, who coined him as formality personified, but good.

No matter how much Rachel knew to pay more attention to her sister’s actions rather than her words, how much she trusted the opinions of her friend and of her husband, something about Agent Townsend wasn’t sitting right with her.

“Really? I was told that this was the result of a reckless solo infiltration.”

Another flinch tore through the man’s body at the words, though he showed no signs of admonishment at her tone, nor at the single eyebrow that rose in a questioning sneer.

“If the two of you were working together, how come she’s half dead in a hospital and you’re sitting here perfectly fine?”

Like a child, Rachel couldn’t resist a mocking imitation of his accent as she spat his words back at him, the anger in her words shielding the break in voice. Instead of shrinking back at her condemnation, Agent Townsend bristled and twisted his face into something cold, though nothing could hide the gleam of guilt in his eyes. His reply was stern and dark, voice deepening in intensity and rising in volume, but his words were pleading, begging for absolution he wouldn’t find in her.

“I told her not to go, begged her even. I told her it was reckless and stupid-“

“Dont talk about her like that!”

“-and that she’d just get herself hurt!”

“You should’ve gone with her. You’re her partner you should’ve-”

“She said she wouldn’t do it."

“And you believed her?”

“She promised!”

“You should’ve stopped her-“

“She drugged me!”

“What kind of agent lets someone drug them?”

“One that trusts his parter?”

“Well there’s your first mistake. God how naive-“

“She was looking for your husband!”

Now standing, Rachel could see that Agent Townsend was indeed tall, almost towering over her from the moment he lurched out of his chair. His chest heaved in angered gasps, and he levelled her with a pained glare, the intensity of which was only weakened by the shine still present in his eyes. One fist lay clenched at his side, muscles shaking with furious adrenaline running up his arm and along his shoulders and chest, spreading down his body to legs that looked ready to bolt, but his other arm remained limp. His hand still lay beside Abby’s, one finger overlapping with hers, almost disconnected from the rest of his body.

Rachel was sure her posture mirrored his.

She had prowled forward during her assault, and now she stood almost chest to chest with the man before her. Her shoulders shook with enraged terror, and the breaths escaping through her constricted throat were rapid and laboured. She felt her nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed, her face flushing, tears burning in the back of her skull. One hand jabbed accusingly in Agent Townsend’s face, steady in it’s fury, and the other rested gently on her sister’s leg, stable in it’s reassurance.

Rachel had been seconds away from grabbing the man’s crumpled collar and shaking the self-righteousness out of him when he screamed his final retort, stealing the insults and allegations out of her mouth. Some of the fire left her lungs, and she felt the tension begin to seep out of her muscles as a devastating understanding began to wash over her.

Agent Townsend continued in a softer, yet still resolutely angry tone.

“We received intelligence that a splinter Circle group were meeting with a local gang for some kind of exchange. Abigail suspected one of the group members was linked to Agent Morgan’s disappearance, wanted to infiltrate the handover to see if she could get any info for a lead. I told her it was too dangerous but-“

His voice caught for a moment, but hardened again, eyes cutting between the two sisters in a near identical glare.

“-but she didn’t care. It’s not my fault she thinks her life is less important than chasing a ghost!”

Rachel felt like she’d been shot.

Agent Townsend must’ve known how his words would cut through her, the angry clench to his jaw suggesting it was done on purpose. He must’ve seen the blood drain from her face, the hitch in her breath, the flinch that tore through her soul, but he remained resolute in his anger, his glare settling solely on her now. He looked at her like she wanted this, like she wanted her little sister to risk her life over and over again for the sake of finding her husband’s body, like there was any universe where she would trade Abby’s life for information of what happened to Matt.

She wanted to scream at him. At the world. At Abby. To scream that Matthew was dead and they all knew it, that they would probably never know what happened to him, that she had accepted that. That her and Cammie had spent the past three years trying desperately to move on so why wouldn’t anyone else? Why wouldn’t they let them? Why does Abby, and Joe for that matter, still not understand that she doesn't need them to find out what happened to her husband, that knowing how and when and why he died wouldn’t help her or her daughter, that all she really needed was for them to be there. To be safe.

She wanted to scream all of this at Agent Townsend. At a man who until 10 minutes ago wasn’t a part of her life, or her family’s as far as she was aware. A man she didn’t know, but who was clearly in love with her sister. A man who had no right to stand there and accuse her of loving a memory of a dead man more than she loved Abby.

She wanted to scream so that she didn’t cry, but looking at her sister properly for the first time since she entered the hospital room, she found she didn’t have the energy for either.

Blackened bruises painted their way across the side of her face, streaking over her nose and both eyes, fingerprints dancing across her jaw and around her neck. Deep gashes cut through her cheek. One grazing through her eyebrow and the other stretching down to her chin, partially hidden by the oxygen mask covering her mouth. The cuts looked a few days old at least, held together by sutures still but already beginning to heal, so Rachel figured she picked them up before she decided to go rogue, but the bruises were fresh. Those she earned chasing down Circle members. Looking for Matthew.

The arm that wasn’t lying limply beneath Townsend’s hand was strapped to her chest, a cast extending from her hand to over her elbow. A set of similar casts covered her left leg, one around her elevated ankle and the other disappearing under the thin hospital blanket, likely stretching up to her hip to cover up where a stray bullet had lodged itself. Rachel wondered her femur had broken along the same crevices that had been carved out when she was a child. If the bone’s memories of snapping when Abby tumbled out of a tree had never quite healed over. If any of their old wounds ever truly healed, or if they hid away, dormant, waiting to be opened up again.

Tubes and wire decorated the hospital bed and wove themselves in her little sister’s body, ensnaring her in a web of IV lines and catheters and drains. One drain snuck its way under her gown and into her side, sucking out the blood that was filling the space around her lungs, and other did the same to her abdomen. Her breathing was shallow and loud. Oxygen forced itself into her throat and rattled around her fractured chest, carbon dioxide seeping out of it in a trembling sigh.

Rachel could see the borders of bruises peeking out from beneath the blanket, bruises that she knew covered Abby’s cracked sternum and broken ribs, bruises that didn’t just come from fists and kicks and explosions, but from the chest compressions noted in her medical file. Rachel wondered if it was Townsend’s hands that pressed on her sister’s chest, sustaining her in some state between life and death until the ambulance arrived, keeping her blood pumping when her own heart couldn’t. When Rachel first learned how to do CPR, she was told that it wasn’t effective unless bones were breaking. She wondered if Townsend had been told the same. Wondered if he was thinking about that as he broke Abby’s ribcage.

“The doctors think she’ll be fine.”

His voice voice was soft now.

“It was touch and go for a while but…”

He looked pained to do so, but he began to remove himself from Abby, stepping away from the chair perched by her head and slowly, hesitantly, taking his hand with him. His fingertips lingered on hers a moment longer, and his gaze never wavered from her face, but eventually he made space for Rachel by her sister’s side.

She filled it willingly, unconsciously, instantly. One hand smoothed back greased hair from Abby’s bandaged forehead, the other gently squeezed the tips of her fingers, dancing around the cannulas in her hand and grasping in-between the bruises perched on her knuckles. Her thumb traced the red rim that encircled her wrist, cuff marks, and pressed into the pulse that beat gently through her wrist. Bending forward, she pressed a featherlight kiss to her brow and settled herself into the chair.

“Are you staying?”

Townsend had crept closer towards the door, a weight still settled on his shoulders and in his face. He nodded slowly at her question, seemingly unaware he was doing so, and settled his body against the closed door as if he were blocking it, guarding it, guarding them from anyone who may try gain entry without his approval.

“I’m good here. You should rest.”

She resented being told to do anything by this man, and was half-tempted to tell him so, but he looked as exhausted as she felt, and she felt a wave of pity wash over her. It was a tiresome thing, she knew, to be so wholly in love with someone who put everyone else, their family, their job, the world, before themselves. He had probably spent the past 72 hours fighting, with Abby, with the Circle, with death itself, he could likely to with a slight reprieve. So instead, she relented without argument, laying her head next to Abby’s and slipping off into sleep.

———————————————————————

Rachel woke again to the sound of a door closing.

Straining against the protests made by the crick in her neck, she peeled her cheek off Abby’s shoulder, her head off the pillow they shared, and peeled her eyes open. The room was shadowed, the moon shining through the window and the monitoring equipment that stood next to the bed casting a soft glare across the walls. It took her eyes a moment to adjust, but when they did she quickly registered the glaring absence in the room, the lack of a six-foot-something guard posted by the door, and the red hue that lined her sister’s open eyes, the sliver of a tear that crept down her nose, oxygen mask discarded on the pillow next to her.

“Hey,”

Abby’s eyes jumped to meet hers in response to the whisper.

“He couldn’t stay huh?”

Rachel smiled sadly at the small sniffle her sister let out, the way her eyes, dazed as they were from exhaustion and painkillers, blinked and hardened, the way her fingers tightened slightly around Rachel’s own.

“He was just dropping me off anyway, making sure I didn’t die and all that. Didn’t want the extra paperwork…”

Her voice, scratchy and hoarse, trailed off when she felt Rachel wince, fingers squeezing again in apology. Abby’s tone was casual, and her smile was dismissive even as it tugged at her stitches, but her breath was shook as it brushed her trembling lower lip, the remnants of tears still shining on her eyelashes. Normally Rachel would push, dig at the crevices in her mask, pull apart the story she’d fabricated until Abby relented and spill the details on whatever boy trouble she was having. Looking at her now though, tired and fragile and small, Rachel decided to ignore the heartbreak in her sister’s eyes for the time being. Let her believe she had hidden it from her for just a bit longer.

“You didn’t have to come-”

Rachel’s eyes were rolling before Abby even finished her sentence.

“-no really, I’m fi-.”

“You’re not fine.”

Heat burst from the anger boiling in her gut, bubbling out her eyes in a fierce glare that cut through her sister’s words as they hung in the air between them.

“You nearly died Abby. Technically you did die!”

“Technically I didn’t.”

“You were dead. Your heart stopped, did you know that?”

“I heard.”

The whisper was soft and breathy. Her eyes flickered towards the closed door again, glazing over mournfully. Teeth closed over the skin of her top lip and tugged hard. She swallowed thickly. Unsure. Rachel mimicked the gesture, sighing through her frustration, struggling to stay angry when Abby looked so devastated. Her words escaped her in a plea.

“How could you be so…” Reckless. Stupid. Selfish.

“I had to! Catherine Goode was spotted getting on a boat in Montevideo a few days ago, I knew she was going to be at the exchange. I’m sure she was involved in Matt’s disappearance Rach, I thought I could-“

Single handedly bring in a woman who’s evaded arrest for over a decade. Get the answers to questions we’ve been asking for years in one night. Bring a man back from the dead.

“I thought I could find him.”

Rachel didn’t ask whether Abby meant find him, or find his body, not wanting to know how much delusional hope her sister was still holding onto lest some of it spread to her. She couldn’t afford to think that Matthew was still alive. She had a life and a school and a daughter that she knew she had to put first.

“Why didn’t you just wait for backup?”

“It would’ve been too late.”

She sniffed again, voice breaking, more tears trickling down her battered face. Rachel knew she shouldn’t be fighting her over this, knew she was exhausted and in pain and had probably just had the same fight with Agent Townsend, but she needed her to listen for once. To understand that she couldn’t just keep throwing herself into the line of fire and thinking her family would thank her for it.

“I didn’t want to be too late again.”

Fuck.

“It’s not your fault Abs.”

But Abby just looked away from her again, mouth wobbling and eyes clouded in guilt. Rachel sighed again, combing one hand through her sister’s hair and brushing the other up and down her arm.

No matter how many times Rachel repeated the assurances that still fizzled in the air around them, Abby refused to believe them. She still clung to her self-condemnation and flagellation, to her overwhelming guilt and displays of penitence. Rachel wondered how much of that was her fault. How much the words that she hurled at her sister one evening in Italy, mere days after her husbands funeral, had stuck with her. The blanket of misplaced anger and grief and devastation that settled over Rachel’s memories meant she barley remembered the fight, had no idea what she had said that meant Abby avoided her for months and refused to meet her eyes for even longer. She wasn’t sure how much of the guilt that was crushing Abby was her own, and how much of it Rachel had inadvertently placed on her in an explosion of grief.

There wasn’t a single cell in her body that blamed Abby for Matthew’s disappearance, if only she could get her sister to believe that, to feel the same.

“How’s the squirt?”

Ignoring the obvious subject change, Rachel smiled at the question, heart lightening at the thought of her daughter.

“She’s great. All her teachers are pleased with her, she’s close as anything with Grace’s daughter and their roommate, and she hasn’t even been distracted by boys yet. Much less trouble than you were at her age.”

“Hmmm, give her time.”

Rachel laughed nervously at the thought, still hopeful that her own influence had tempered whatever sneaky habits Matthew and Abby had instilled in Cammie throughout her childhood. Abby breathed a slight chuckle with her, wincing at the way it tugged at her cracked ribcage. Under normal circumstances Rachel would take the opportunity to cajole her sister into visiting Cam. Into spending the summer with them in Nebraska, or a Sunday evening with them at the academy, into breaking through the haze of guilt and regret she was trapped in and letting her niece see her instead of just checking up on her from a distance.

Rachel knew she worried that Cammie would see the guilt in her eyes, in her smile, seeping from her pores and dripping from her tongue. Worried that Cammie wouldn’t need her when she couldn’t be the fun-aunt, would hate her for not getting to Rome faster, would wish that it was her who disappeared, died, instead of Matthew. Somehow her sister had got it in her head that they were better off with her staying away. Happier. Safer. No matter what Rachel said, she hadn’t managed to dissuade her of any of that. Under normal circumstances, Rachel tried again almost every time she saw her.

These were’t normal circumstances though, and Rachel figured she had been pushed enough today already.

She’d try again in a few days. Tell her that they missed her, that they didn’t blame her, that neither of them needed her to be fun and grief-free, that they just wanted her around.

For now though, she just stroked her sister’s hair, and lay her head beside her’s once more, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“You should go back to sleep, get some rest.”

“Yeah.”

Rachel’s heart clenched at the quick resignation, at the way Abby’s eyelids fluttered and voice cracked, at how her head lulled on the pillow, relaxing against her own.

“Don’t know how you expect me to sleep in these circumstances though.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t bring Monty!

Her thoughts strayed to that stupid sheep, it’s age-worn fur and missing eyes. Last she had seen was in Cammie’s wardrobe, her daughter having found it and the stuffed wolf from Rachel’s own childhood in a box in the attic. She had been enthralled when Rachel told her where they came from, immediately retrieving the stuffed horse Abby had gifted her as a baby, affectionately named Neighy once she could talk. Matthew had sent her into a a fit of giggles by putting on a show with all three of them, mocking Abby’s deadpan yet teasing tone, Cam’s child-like pitch, and her own strong city drawl. Rachel remembered laughing with her, loving how even at 10 her daughter could be so entertained by what was essentially a puppet show as long as her father was at the helm.

For once, such a memory didn’t feel like a gut punch, like the air was being ripped out of her, like she’d never breath again. Instead she felt lighter, the joy she remembered so vividly filling her heart once more.

She wondered if this was what healing felt like.

Rachel hid her growing grin in her pillow, elated by the sound of her sister’s laugh, how it reminded her so acutely of their mother’s airy chuckle and her daughter’s lively giggle all at once. She didn’t want the moment to end, the joy and the lightness and the love, but her own eyelids were growing heavy again, and even laughter couldn’t keep the pained shadow off Abby’s face for long.

“Just shut up and go to sleep you.”

And so they did.

Maybe they could laugh again when they woke.

———————————————————————

Authors note:

Okay so that was both longer than planned and took much longer to write than I thought it would. Oops.

Rachel and Townsend are similar in that they’re pretty stubborn, overthinkers who think they know best, prideful, and did I say stubborn? Rachel, who’s pretty protective of her family meeting Townsend, who’s angry and scared and not wanting to feel any of that, for the first time when Abby’s injured was not going to go brilliantly.

They grow on each other though (they bond over a common source of headaches).

Maybe one day I’ll write the Tabby argument that took place while Rachel was asleep. Or Tabby fight that happened in when Abby decided to go after Catherine. Or maybe even my entire version of Buenos Aires…

(Also it became too long to include Joe so sorry for lying about that, rest assured he will be in the next chapter by which time we will have caught up to canon…)(his cameo was gonna be Rachel using this as a way to manipulate convince him to teach at Gallagher next term)

[harrysloveboat]

please write the what'll you give me if i do with jj and conrad😩

I definitely will😭

gladly accepting any requests for a crossover of TSITP and OBX because these two shows have basically ruined me🫢

[cameronspecial]

I’m wanna right more about my Frat! Rafe from my Let Me mini series type so send in ideas if you have any!

[girlkisser13]

cam cameron masterlist

* indicates smut

headcanons

dating cam cameron would include

nsfw headcanons *

imagines

you belong with me

drabbles

[ayatotiddies]

🥁- 🎸 - Band!Rafe Who Just Missed You So Much While On Tour :(

Ask from @justafangirls-blog <3

Warnings - 18+ MDNI - P in V, Porn With Plot, Established Relationship, No Protection (Wrap it before you tap it!), Creampie, Just lots of soft loving, Sweet kisses, Soft ‘nd subby Rafe <3, Name Calling (Pretty girl, Sweet Thing, Babydoll, Angel, Baby. Reader calls HIM Ray, like once or twice.), Ownership Kink (Mine and Yours). NOT PROOF READ.

Moodboard - Here 🎸

A/N - This was so yummy 😩 Also I wrote all of this while half asleep….

The door creaked open, causing your pretty head to look away from the tv. Only to see it was your boyfriend back home from his tour. Before he could place his guitar down you were padding over to him in that pretty little nightgown.

“Rafe!”

You chirped with a smile painted on that pretty face. Arms wrapping tight around his neck as you pulled him in for a hug.

“Hey gorgeous,” the man hummed and kissed on your forehead. “How’s my girl been?”

He murmured, picking you up into his arms. Completely forgetting about his guitar, Rafe walked down the hall into your shared bedroom.

“I missed you” You whined, pretty lips puckered out in a pout.

The sight only making the blonde snicker as he laid you both on the bed. Finding a very comfortable spot between your thighs

“Missed you so much more, pretty girl.” He nuzzled into your neck, peppering kisses along your skin.

A soft hum came from your pretty lips. His soft kisses were making your panties SOAKED. You just missed your man so much! It wasn’t your fault. :( So when he slowly leaned down onto you, you were quick to change the position. You quickly demanding the man onto his back so you could straddle him and who was he to complain?

“Anything for you, lover.”

Was all you heard before he got on his back, his hands sat on your hips in the process. It’s so obvious the hard on his has in his jeans but he’s trying to be sweet! For you. Until he knows you want it. The way you’re biting that pretty lip and soft grinding on him. A soft grunt or two, falling from his lips. Accompanied by a little whine, his grip on your hips tightening.

“Sweet thing, as much as I love this are you reallly gonna tease me all night? Or help me out here.” The rough man whispered, like he was in a place to demand.

“Rafe, just shut up.” You pouted, leaving the man stunned.

He got the memo as you lifted your hips up. While you grabbed your pretty little lace panties to the side, he unbuckled his belt, quickly tugging his pants and boxers down. Cock springing out proudly and smacking against his abs.

A cocky grin on your lips, causing you to bite your bottom one. He grabbed his cock a have it a few quick strokes before lining it up with your soaked entrance. Your hand took over as you slowly sunk down onto him. The way your lips parted and eyes turned to slits. He could cum on the spot, instantly he grabbed your hips. His eyes were on the verge of rolling back into his head a soft whimper leaving his lips.

“Babydoll, I’ma need you to calm down or I- Shit, I might cum. Think you can do that for me Angel?”

The way you bit your lip and nodded, he let out an exhale. Then he let you fully sink down onto him. Pausing to give him a momentary break. While you just felt so full and wanted to ride him. The man could barely handle it, being gone for 2 weeks was clearly too much. His eyes fluttered shut and then opened with a soft nod.

A loud groan from the man underneath you. His hands shifted from your hips to your ass. Gripping the meaty flesh as you bounced on him.

“You look so pretty Ray.” You teased and leaned down, kissing his pretty lips.

A whine left the man’s lips as he kept you down on him.

“Can’t say shit like that, baby. Especially not when you’re on top of me.” The whisper was a soft breath across your lips.

Pulling a hand up to hold the back of your neck as he kissed you. The other now splayed on your back. Soft grunts and pretty moans filled the air as you grinded down on him. The way his tip kissed that spot in you, over and over and over again. It was heavenly. Eyes rolling back before he softly kissed you back to earth.

“S’okay pretty girl, you got this. You wanna cum for me?” He questioned to which he earned an immediate nod, along with those sweet moans.

That sweet smile on his face as he hummed.

“M’kay, I’ll take care of it.” He whispered and moved his hands down to your hips.

Your head found its resting spot in his neck. Kissing and leaving your saliva all over him. He carefully started bouncing you up and down. Occasionally stopping to grind you down on him, just to give that pretty clit of yours some pressure. When your nails dug into his shoulders and you clenched around him, he knew you were close.

“Shit, y’gonna cum all on me?” He grinned and proceeded to pick up the pace.

“Rafe, need to- cum!” You poor thing, were so cock drunk you couldn’t help but hiccup in between words.

In your hazy mind he was just being plain mean when he snickered but he was doing all the work! ‘Nd he thought you were so cute when you started trembling, your eyes rolling back as you clenched around him.

“That’s it sweet girl, c’mon, cum all over my cock.” He urged, feeling himself nearing the edge.

You pushed yourself up, hands using his chest as a stand. Slowly bouncing up and down on him as you neared the edge of your orgasm. Rafe moaned out with you. Biting his lip before letting out a rough groan. His grip so tight on your hips it stung.

A few messy thrusts later and an unsteady bounce. Your eyes rolled back as you came around him. Clenching so prettily around his pulsing cock. Creating a creamy ring around his base. The man lost it. Digging those rough fingers into you as his hips bucked up. Getting impossibly deeper to spill his load into you. He was proud he had held out this long.

Your head laid down on his chest. Both of your breaths were unsteady and raggedy. His fingers treaded through your sweaty hair. A sheen gloss of sweat coated the two of you. Rough pants and soothing touches

“I don’t think I’m ever going to leave you for that long. EVER. again.” The man declared with what looked like a pout.

Causing both of you to burst out into a fit of giggles. The giggles quieted down though.

“You gonna be mine forever, right?” You looked up at the man with a questioning look.

“Uh’course baby, I’m yours for life.” He confirmed.

“Missed you Ray.”

“I missed you more baby.” The man declared, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

@justafangirls-blog @mackenzie-maybank @starkeycore @rafescokewhore @rafeyscurtainbangs @drewstarkeys-world @rafesbabygirll @starkeygirlposts @shawtycoreee @rafesthroatbaby @bunnycrush @theeslutintheroom @spaghettimonsterjane @2tarbell @rafecameronsbunny @starkeysprincess @bunnyrafe @nemesyaaa @rafesangeldealer @starkeyvhs @rafesbee @rafesno1bae @wearemadeofstardust0 @deffnotlou

All of my muts once again… 💋

[lucifer-spawn]

Hurt/Comfort incoming.....

[r34ding]

Knock em dead

Jeremiah x Belly Fanfiction

~Jeremiah decides to be a bit (too) direct.~

TW: This is just consensual because both partys are okay with what happens in the end. But if one party would have decided they did not like what happend (in this fanfic Belly), it would not have been okay.

Camerons lips left Bellys and everyone at the table was speechless for a second. Laurel was kind enough to make a joke, but Jeremiah's joy from teasing Belly's date had vanished in an instant. He had felt a pull in his chest as he heard that she was dating someone, but seeing them like this- although he caused the situation, made him feel infinetly worse.

At Nicoles party he drunkenly went after Cam and Belly.

*Do you have something for Jeremiah?*

*You mean Conrad?*

She didn't even consider him an option, not even a close second. Even if she wasn't dating Cam, it would be Conrad.

He asked her on a muffin run the next morning, since he coincidentally was up early, despite a slight headach from the party.

*Why do you seem so energetic?*

*Couldn't sleep.*

His shrug made her smile. Whenever she was going through something, be it Taylor hooking up with her brother, or Conrad... his carefree demeanor was contagious.

Driving with him, of course he let her practice, he would still help her shift gears if needed. His hand lingering on hers was warm, and she felt so comfortable around him, she didn't mind.

*Park over there, I wanne show you my favorite spot!*

He pointed to a spot at the side of the road, on their way back. The excitement in his voice made her giggle.

*Come on, be honest it's your secret make out spot right?*

His smirk was telling and the view breathtaking. While Belly was looking at the scenery he was stealing glaces at her.

*Belly?*

*Yeah?*

*You know Conrad has been sleeping over at Nicoles for quite some time now.*

He watched her smile fade.

*Why ar-*

*He forgot your birthday.*

He didn't plan this, but he couldn't hold back anymore. She was facing him now, hurt clouding her eyes.

*Why are you saying that?*

Why now? She thought, because to her it felt like he was needlessly rubbing it in.

*Do you even like Cam Cameron?*

She knew why he asked, but acting oblivious was easier.

*Why are you being like this?*

Agitated, she stepped back as he approached her.

*Belly, you are my best friend. I can see how you look at Conrad, not at Cam. Don't you think it would be-*

*What's wrong with you today?*

After her initial shock at his bluntness her anger settled in.

He furrowed his brows, he understood why she got devensive. However her moving away from him made him think she was planning on just avoiding the truth.

*Come on Belly, you know why I am saying this!*

Not because of his unexpected outburst, but because of his unfamiliar, earnest gaze she decided turn, return to the car and cool down.

Before she could, he had pulled her back and she stumbled against his chest.

His hand was resting on her wrist. She was stunned, too stunned to ask what the fuck he was doing.

His lips sealed hers, with a frevor that pushed her head backwards. It took her a moment to collect herself.

Angry at his assault she pressed her lips harder against his. Balancing the intensity of their kiss, but effectively pressing herself against him. His hand had dropped from her wrist, now guiding her head, not wanting to part from her. The other hand was holding her securely around the waist. Belly was torn between pushing him away or pulling him closer, her hands seemed to move on their own exploring his chest and shoulders.

A shudder ran through Jeremiah.

Now it was his turn to be suprised and he pulled away a bit to search her face. His hand had found a place around her neck just under he jaw.

Belly seemed to have acted on impulse. He could not tell if she was angry at him, but the red hue on her cheeks was lovely, nonetheless.

He gave her a peck on the side of her mouth and as if the spell was broken, she finally gave him a firm push, which made him stumble backwards.

*Belly I-*

*Wha- Why, what the hell Jeremiah?*

The boy she had known her whole live, who she had grown up with standing there as beautiful as ever, seemed so foreign to her. The look he gave her was pircing, making an electric charge run through her.

To her Jeremiah was the boy she laid on her back with, playfully holding hands with, while watching the clouds.

He was rubbing the back of his neck, calming his beating heart and his to desire to kiss Belly again.

*I wanted to do that for a long time.*

His admission startled Belly, had she thought about doing it herself from time to time. But it was a territory of emotions that felt too threatening to their friendship.

He approached her again, she faced him head on this time and watched sceptically as he took on of her hands in his.

*Listen, I know you are still with Cam...*

His thumb rubbed circles on the back of her hand.

*... and, despite what I just did, I know it was shitty of me to just spring my feelings on you like that.*

Belly still fought with herself and ripped her arm back.

*Then you shouldn't have!*

This time he couldn't catch her in time and she stormed back to the car at a pace he had to jog to keep up.

*Bells lis-*

*No you listen!*

She stopped him in his track.

*You not only spring this on me, as you said, but you have to bring my feelings for Conrad into it?*

So that was what bothered her the most, he realized bitterly.

She was standing in front of the hood of his truck and it felt like he was forbidden from moving until she was done chewing him out.

*I know Belly, I was...*

He didn't want to say it aloud, but Belly was having none of it.

*Spit it out Jer!*

*I was fucking jealous okay?*

Despite the way he let the words out, like they would burn his tongue, he carefully closed in on her, again.

*Don't Jer, I'm still-*

Seeing him up close, the embarresment written on his face, she couldn't help herself but calm down. Jeremiah was never one to be emberassed and seeing this vulnerable side of him made her realize what she had overlooked the whole time.

Suddenly he hugged her, holding her in his arms, trying to convey how precious she was to him.

*Jer I...*

*I know, I'm sorry.*

He looked down at her then and while looking into the eyes of his best friend, he had known his whole live, he confessed.

*I just can't help but love you.*

It was done, she knew it the moment he really opened up to her. She fell, hard. Or maybe he had her at his feet all along. She took her time taking in his familiar features and then, after he had closed his eyes, still embracing her but waiting patiently for her next move, she kissed him.

Wanting to convey what she felt for him fueled her. As if she had brought him back to live he pressed her back against the car. Now with much more assurance, he even enjoyed biting her lip. While she laughed, she also knew the shudder that ran down her spine, betrayed the playfulness she tried to convey. This honest, straightforward version of her best friend was going to be the end of her.

~The end.~

[riverageleis]

Chapters: 13/14 Fandom: Stargate SG-1 Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter/Daniel Jackson/Cameron Mitchell (Stargate) Characters: Sam Carter (Stargate), Daniel Jackson (Stargate), Jack O'Neill, Cameron Mitchell (Stargate), Original Characters, Maybe a dog or two Additional Tags: Polyamory, Demisexual Character, Internalized Homophobia, established poly relationship, New secondary relationship, Friends to Lovers Series: Part 3 of Best Friends Summary:

In the third part of the Best Friends series, Jack decides to ask Daniel out. Despite watching Daniel, Sam, and Cameron navigate a successful polyamorous relationship for several years, he's still unsure of the rules. After talking it over with Cam, Jack decides to give it a try with Daniel anyway.

With the help of Sam and Cameron, their biggest allies and cheerleaders, they will navigate Jack's insecurities and preconceived notions about what relationships are and how they should look. As they do, Daniel discovers that he's still got boundaries to test while on this journey, as well.

This is Jack/Daniel-centric story.

[iloveb1ur]

I wrote a mafia boss fanfic about my best friend

021: I wrote a mafia boss fanfic about my best friend - The Confession Club | Podcast on Spotify

This week on The Confession Club, we write 30 minute fanfics about each other based on prompts from a random wheel generator. We both span two different wheels: one that selected the show the character was from who would be the love interest and another that selected the trope the fic would have to include. We discuss and read our fanfics, ask if we are the asshole in this weeks confessions and argue why we wouldn’t let anyone call us babygirl.

the fanfics were:

Mary wrote a rose x her crush mafia boss fic where rose’s crush saved her from being killed in a gun fight and kissed her in the hospital room.

Rose wrote a Mary x Cam Cameron fake dating trope that had the wildest ending imaginable.

WARNING: during the episode we do spend a good 10 minutes howling with laughter at the absurdity of what we had written - you have been warned.

the confession club is the place for all things society and culture. each week me and my best friend rose discuss a topic ranging from a tv show, a societal issue or in this weeks case - writing our own fanfics.

the link to the episode is below and also is available on spotify and apple podcasts!

021: I wrote a mafia boss fanfic about my best friend - The Confession Club | Podcast on Spotify

The Confession Club | Podcast on Spotify

[karasbroken]

There's a very fun longfic on AO3 that does both of these, having Aeryn and Vala swap places (and John and Cam, in a setting that goes with the Cam/Vala ship). I'm one of those folks that really does prefer Daniel/Vala, but it's a fun read, and I'll go ahead and drop a link.

It's unfinished but there's lots of combinations of all four characters ending up in one or the other universe being explored over almost 150k words. @shiggityontherocks is the amazing author of a lot of other fics too, especially if you're partial to Cam/Vala.

The poll does make me ponder things though. I think the results are right, Aeryn would make an amazing SG-1 soldier even if she doesn't have the curiosity or wonder to appreciate all the worlds and cultures. Vala would just be another troublemaker on Moya and they really don't need another person constantly getting them screwed.

But my shipping soul is more interested in whether Aeryn/Cam and John/Vala might work even better than the originals. Probably not.

I think John would get tired of being the more stable straight man of the relationship, and impatient with Vala's obvious need for therapy and constant lies. But it is kinda like crossing Aeryn with Chiana without any of the "looks too alien" and "probably too young for me" barriers. If it was before they'd declared their love or in a setting where he and Aeryn never even got close, John would probably be unable to resist Vala in lingerie in his bed telling him a good story about why they should frell. Then he'd fall for her because that man is made for commitment and she'd panic worse than Aeryn and frell Crais or something. It would be drama all the way.

And Cam might find Aeryn hot AF, but not have the necessary softness and vulnerability to get Aeryn to open up. She might think he's comfortingly familiar, and not be able to resist some recreation in a fit of loneliness, but unless the swap happens before Season 3, she might be too hung up on John to accept a solemn, older, less emotionally open substitute. Cam would definitely want to resist temptation because she's on his team and that's fraternizing even if it's not technically true. But one bad mission where everyone needs some comfort and they're going to be making out in an elevator on the way to hell with the rest of their good intentions. And then once they sleep together, Cam is going to be beating himself up about it, and Aeryn's going to quietly freak out, and then mistake his reticence for actual proper Peacekeeper non-attachment and they're going to have infrequent but explosive sex until Cam breaks down and tries to talk about his feelings and it all blows up. Imagine the module make out scene but with a much older John and a much colder Aeryn. Could get violent, definitely going to get shouty, and again, drama all the way.

Okay, wait, I think I've convinced myself this would be fun. Either combo, it does intrigue me. I'm just not sure I'm the person to explore it. If anyone is ever looking for AU/crossover ideas to write about, I would LOVE to read something believable that remixed either of the couples.