#obx imagines

[mrsstarkey1]

getting rafe hooked on dress to impress

my fav thing i’ve ever written i can’t even lie

word count: 1.2k

obx masterlist

you yawned loudly and abnoxiously as you walked into rafe’s bedroom. you kicked your shoes off, grabbing one of rafe’s t-shirts from his drawer, changing out of your uncomfortable clothes. “didn’t think you were coming back, it’s late as fuck.” rafe said, looking at you oddly as he sat up on the bed against the headboard.

“longest fucking day of my life. need to unwind.”

rafe smirked, reaching his whole body over the bed to grab your forearm. "like the sound of that," he mumbles.

you let yourself move toward him, but you groan, “not like that.” rafe momentarily pouts, but doesn’t let go of your arm. in fact, he pulls you closer onto the bed with him urging you to cuddle up into him.

he snakes his arm around you, soft fingers tracing circles into your side. "wanna talk about it?"

you yawn and shake your head, "nah, can we just watch a movie or something?"

rafe nods, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand. "you don't wanna watch some chick-flick do you?" he asks, grimacing already.

you sigh dramatically, “i guess not. fast and furious?”

rafe obligies, satisfied with your suggestion. you get comfortable on the bed, your head rested on rafe's shoulder and your phone rested on his chest as you scroll through tiktok.

about 20 minutes later, you see a video about the new halloween update on dress to impress and gasp before you can stop yourself. rafe jumps slightly, eyes wide. “jesus christ, what’s wrong?”

"sorry, nothing," you grin apologetically, "can I borrow your laptop though?"

he looks at you like you've lost your mind, but he still grabs his macbook from the nightstand, handing it over to you. you sit up excitedly, leaning up against the headboard.

you open the laptop and sign into your roblox account, side eyeing rafe as he gives you an odd look. "the fuck are you doing?"

"playing a game," you respond innocently.

he raises his eyebrows, "roblox? wheezie used to play that shit.. when she was 8," he says, judging you hardcore.

you glare at him, "you don't understand," you sigh. "just watch me play, it's genuinely fun."

he watches you click on dress to impress, making a disgusted face. "yeah I can't defend you on this one," he says and you shove his shoulder.

"well have you ever played dress to impress?" you ask him.

"obviously not," he says, his sassy side on full display.

"well don't judge then. just watch and i'll let you play a round when i'm done," you say with a smile, patting his cheek softly.

"hell nah," he says, directing his attention back to the movie.

you shake your head, giving up on getting him to play. you start a round, looking around at all the new pieces they added. the theme is holiday for your first round, so of course you do halloween.

you notice rafe's eyes on the computer screen as his curiosity clearly starts to creep back in despite himself. he watches as you piece together combination of a witch hat, spiderweb dress, and dark boots.

“what even is this shit?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly intrigued.

you grin, not taking your eyes off the screen since you only have a minute left. “you compete with other people to make the best outfit based on a theme. you'd be pretty good at it, you've got great style," you say, trying to persuade him.

he gives you a look, shaking his head, "sounds dumb as fuck," he says, and you just laugh. he's silent for a moment before turning slightly to have a better view of the screen, "so what you just like... dress them up and shit?"

you nod, watching the time run out. "yes, then everyone votes on each outfit and the top 3 get on the podium. see," you point to the screen, "the voting's starting now."

an outfit that's completely off theme struts down the runway and you grimace, "see like that one's ugly as fuck so i give it a 1. oooh look, this ones mine," you say with a proud smile. "doesn't she look great?"

rafe shrugs, "i guess."

you ended up getting third place, losing to two terrible outfits. you curse under your breath, before turning to him. “you wanna try a round?” you smile, looking up at him.

rafe scoffs, glancing back at the movie, but curiosity gets the better of him. “alright, fine, hand it over.” he takes the laptop.

"okay the theme is beach day," you tell him.

he hums in response, looking around at the clothes aimlessly. "rafe, you gotta pick something that actually matches,” you say, stifling a laugh as he pairs a yellow bikini top with neon green shorts.

"shh, I have a vision," he says, dismissing your words. "wait why the fuck doesn't she have a face?"

"you gotta go to the makeup and hair room, over there," you point at the screen.

he scrolls through the makeup options, finally decided on one. "mhm, she bad ain't she?" you chuckle, knowing rafe is secretly loving this.

time runs out just as he adds the coconut drink, and you see him watching the screen eagerly, waiting for the voting to end. one girl dressed in long pants and a jacket walks out and he looks over at you, disgusted, "this bitch didn't even look at the theme." all you can do is laugh and nod your head in agreement.

when rafe places second, he smirks, looking way too pleased with himself. "ha," he says, "i did better than you."

you roll your eyes. "yeah you're done playing," you say, snatching the laptop back.

the next night, you texted rafe that you were gonna come over after your morning shift and you didn't get a response, which was odd. you let yourself into his house with the key he'd given you. "rafe?" you called out, walking into the living room. "you here?" no response.

you furrowed your eyebrows, walking up the stairs. maybe he was just in his room, you thought, taking a nap or something. you creak open his bedroom door, met with the scene of him sitting on his bed, looking intently at his laptop.

his eyes shoot up to look at you and he slams his laptop closed, guilty look in his eye. you raise your eyebrows, "what were you doing?" you question him, walking toward the bed.

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, shaking his head. "nothin.'"

your eyes narrow, "were you watching porn?" you joke, sitting down next to him.

he sighs, "worse.." he trails off. he mentally debates for a minute, before pulling his laptop back into his lap, opening it slowly to reveal dress to impress on full display.

your hand shoots to cover your mouth, laugh escaping your lips anyway. all he does is glare at you, "this is your fucking fault."

you lean into him with a laugh, "I know I know, sorry. don't be embarrassed, rafe." you press a kiss to his lips.

as you kiss him, you can’t help but laugh again, glancing at his screen. "okay wait that's actually a cute outfit. you're getting good," you nudge him, "fashionista," you add quietly with a chuckle.

he looks at you straight-faced, "I'm only playing this dumbass game because you dragged me into it. i was just bored so,” he gestures to the screen.

“sure, rafe, whatever you say,” you tease, cuddling up beside him. "feel free to keep playing, don't stop at my expense."

he scoffs, but gives in and restarts the game.

you wrap your arm around his middle and watch as he puts together outfit after outfit, the grin rarely leaving your face.

you just love your little fashionista.

----

requests are OPEN 💌

[lazysoulwriter]

valentine's day special - rafe cameron. ♡

It wasn’t like Rafe to act weird around you. If anything, he was always the one making you flustered—throwing shameless compliments, crowding your space just to see you roll your eyes, smirking like he knew every thought in your head. But today? Today he was being weird.

You had noticed it the moment you walked into his room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands like they were supposed to do something. You had barely gotten a chance to greet him before he shot up to his feet, clearing his throat. “Uh—hey. You’re here.”

You blinked. “Yeah? Why do you sound surprised? You literally told me to come over.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, which was already an absolute mess, a clear sign of nerves. He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I did. Right.”

Suspicious. Extremely suspicious. Your eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

“What? Nothing.” His response was too fast, too defensive. Then he hesitated, exhaling heavily before rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, just—give me a second.”

He turned away, rummaging through his nightstand drawer. You stood there, arms crossed, watching the absolute disaster unfold in front of you. When he turned back, he was holding a small, slightly crumpled box in his hands, gripping it like it might explode.

“Here,” he said, pushing it toward you.

You took it slowly, staring up at him. “What’s this?”

“Just—open it.”

The second you started unwrapping it, he made an odd, almost pained noise, running both hands through his hair again. This was getting better by the second.

You pulled out a delicate silver necklace, a tiny charm in the shape of a wave dangling in the center. It was simple but pretty, something you could wear every day without even thinking about it. Your heart clenched a little.

“Rafe,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice, lifting your gaze to find him already staring at you with a borderline panicked expression. “Did you just—get me a Valentine’s Day present?”

He groaned, tipping his head back like he was regretting all of his life choices. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh, I would never.” You bit your lip, barely containing your grin. “It’s just—you’re all red, Rafe. Your ears are literally burning.”

“I’m not red.”

“You totally are.”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing at the back of his neck, clearly flustered. It was absolutely hilarious. When was the last time you had ever seen Rafe Cameron lose his cool over something like this? Never. You took a step closer, just to watch him squirm.

“Where’s the Rafe Cameron I know?” you teased, tilting your head. “The cocky one? The one who never gets embarrassed?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at you.

“You’re acting so shy, baby. It’s adorable.”

“God, I knew I shouldn’t have—”

“I love it,” you interrupted, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “And I love you.”

That got his attention. His hands immediately found your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. And just like that, the Rafe you knew was back. That glint of mischief returned to his eyes, his lips curling into something smug.

“Oh, you love me?”

You hummed, running your fingers through his hair. “Mm-hmm.”

“Enough to let me take it off you later?” he murmured, voice dipping lower.

You laughed, shaking your head. “And there he is.”

He grinned, leaning in. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

As if you care | Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: JJ and Rafe crash at the finish line of the Enduro Race. Just because you and Rafe aren't together anymore doesn't mean you weren't worried about his safety.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! I promise I proof read the best I could with a 13 month old running around getting into everything 😅

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

The beach was packed with onlookers, ready to watch the 2024 Enduro race and see who would take champion this year. Your feet dug in the hot sand as you made it through the crowd to the sideline where the rest of the Pogues were. JJ would be racing again this year hoping to turn his luck around and win this year.

You could see across the track the kooks gathering around. One in particular catching your eye dressed like he was ready to race. He was never one to participate in these types of things so seeing him there was a shock.

"Rafe's here racing?" You ask Sarah, watching as Rafe pushes his bike to the starting line, beside the other racers.

She too was confused by his participation, shrugging, "I guess so."

Shielding your eyes from the hot sun, you can see Rafe has noticed you, giving you a brief nod of acknowledgment before swinging his leg over the bike to mount it.

"Shit," Sarah says, "Why the hell is he racing?" She's immediately stomping through the sand toward John B where he too is pushing his bike to the starting line next to JJ.

You followed Sarah, heading for JJ.

"You here to give me a good luck kiss?" JJ teases you with a kissy face, leaning close to you, as Sarah leans over to give John B a kiss.

You shove him in the shoulder, laughing, "You wish, Maybank."

He chuckles mounting his bike, sliding his bandana over his head, "No see I think if you kissed me, I'd win."

You rolled your eyes at his flirting, "Try not to get killed out there." You grab his helmet off the back of his bike, handing it to him. You and JJ had grown close after breaking up with Rafe, but it never crossed a friendship line. He was flirty, but both of you knew there wasn't anything there. He knew you still loved Rafe.

"You see your boy is racing today?"

"Yeah," You reply. Before anything else is said, the announcer gives the racers the minute warning. "Be safe out there."

"Oh I'll be so safe," He drags out with a laugh, hand on his heart.

You can't help but laugh at the memory with Pope, heading back toward the sideline with Sarah.

Rafe slides his helmet over his head, starting his engine and revving it a few times. Even behind helmet you can feel his eyes on you. He felt the anger pulsing through his veins as he saw the interaction between you and JJ. He should have known he would lose you and you'd moved on by now. It only pissed him off more that it was JJ.

You and Rafe had dated for a year before you ended it. He'd started hanging around the wrong crowd, drugs and alcohol making him a changed man. He wasn't the Rafe you fell in love with and you'd tried everything to get him to stop, get help and go to rehab but he'd blown up, destroying your shared apartment in anger; broken furniture, glass littering the floor, holes in the wall. It left you terrified and you gave him the ultimatum. Get help or you were leaving him. Unfortunately, the group had their nails dug deep in him and he wasn't ready to give up his way of life yet. You'd packed up everything you owned from the apartment that night with the help of the Pogues and hadn't looked back.

It didn't mean you didn't care for Rafe. or that you ever stopped loving him. There was no way you could live like that with him and Rafe didn't want the help. You had to admit, you could tell he looked healthier there on the beach, nothing like he did when you left 6 months previous. He'd shaved his hair, his skin was tan and those dark circles under his eyes were gone.

Soon the race began, sand flying through the air. The announcers had people set through the track to see where the racers stood in standings.

At the beginning, Rafe was first, JJ falling behind. As they come around the last curve, JJ jumped the sand dune, putting him in first place. Rafe and JJ went neck and neck, bumping into each other.

They both recovered but Rafe went for him again, bumping his tire and sending both of them flying through the air, landing hard in the sand.

As the race concludes, Topper taking first, everyone stormed the track, you immediately went to JJ with the Pogues.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" JJ starts toward Rafe.

"Get use to it, pogue." He shakes the sand off his arms.

JJ lunges for Rafe and Rafe lunges for JJ, but you quickly jump between them, "Hey! Hey both of you stop it!" pushing them back by their chests,

"You could have killed each other! are you fucking crazy!" You spit out to Rafe of anger and worry for the both of them.

"As if you care." Rafe pushes your hand off his chest, his shoulder bumping into you as he pushes past you before storming through the crowd.

You make sure JJ's ok, before following after Rafe. "Rafe!" Your legs burn as they dig into the sand, his long legs making it hard for you to catch up.

He doesn't acknowledge you, unzipping his suit to his waist as he nears his truck.

"Rafe!" You finally catch up to him at his truck, grabbing his arm to will him to face you, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

He faces you, his face red with anger, "I know I fucked up alright, but did you really have to go for Maybank?" He lets his trucks tailgate down to throw his suit and boots in the back. He doesn't give you a chance to answer, "Just go back to your boyfriend. I'll apologize later when I'm calm."

The slam of the tailgate makes you jump, but you recover, grabbing his arm, "JJ is not my boyfriend! You don't get to pull this bullshit. Not after all the shit you put me through. You seriously could have killed both of you! That was reckless; a stupid move."

He can see your angry and if he's not mistaken, even a little scared, "Why do you care about my safety anyways? It's not like we're together."

"I didn't stop caring for you Rafe. I just didn't deserve the way you were treating me and I left. You needed help and you wouldn't accept it. What was I suppose to do? Stay with you while you continued to wreck our relationship and your life? You destroyed our apartment; you broke furniture. put holes in the walls. I was terrified."

He lets his back hit the side of his truck, running a hand over his head as he looks down at the ground, embarrassed he let his feelings get the best of him. "You're right, I shouldn't have done what I did. Today or that night. I was in deep with that group and I should have got out sooner. You did the right thing leaving." He finally wills himself to look at you. His eyes are sad, "As much as it broke my heart to see you leave, you did the right thing. I wasn't in a good head space and honestly I don't know what I would have done to you. I'm sorry I even put you through what I did. You didn't deserve it."

"I forgive you," You lay your hand on his arm, "I just wanted my Rafe back." You say, tears threatening to spill over.

Rafe wipes a tear away with his knuckle, "I'm here."

You lean into his touch, eyes closing in the comfort of his touch. You missed him.

Soon, his hands are tugging you into his chest, his arms wrapping around your shoulders and he plants a kiss against your hair. You can feel your entire body relax into his. Your hands move up his back, palms open against his shoulder blades.

"God, I don't deserve you." He says into your hair, giving you a tighter squeeze. He needed this comfort just as much as you did.

He's the first to pull away from you, hands sliding to your cheeks, "I've missed you."

You place your hand over his, bringing his hand to your lips, and kissing his palm, "I've missed you too."

~

The two of you start heading back to the beach, deciding you both needed the extra time together. Everything finally felt right in the world. Your hand in his as your feet dig into the sand, the orange of the sun dancing against the ocean's waves as it sets against the ocean's horizon.

"I can see you still let your emotions get the better of you."

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you toward him, "When it comes to you, I do." He says before kissing the top of your head.

I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments and reblogs are always welcomed and so appreciated! x

[starkeygirls]

i n v i s i b l e s t r i n g

chapter 1

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: really bad at these!

wc: 2.5k

warning: none! i haven't written in a while, this is a rewrite of a story that i started in 2020, so please bare with me as i get back in the groove of writing.

a/n: guess who's back, back again. determined to finish this series. rafe and sofia in s4 really inspired me to get back into this fic, hope you all like it ◡̈ pls reblog/comment/etc.. would love to hear your thoughts ◡̈

______________________________________________________________

Sometimes you really fit into Figure 8. Sometimes you all did. Like when John B was off with Sarah and he was wearing the clothes that she had bought him to go out golfing or go to brunch at the yacht club. Or when Kie was dragged to a kook event by her parents at the country club. Pope wore his suit when he had different scholarship and college interviews- and he really gave the kook boys a run for their money with how good he looked in his steamed suit. JJ was the least likely to really look like he would ever fit in on Figure 8, and that was because he never wanted to. He reserved his ‘money suit’, as he called it, for when he had to work as a busboy, and occasionally picked up other gigs. You, however, were fitting in more often than you would have liked. 

You tucked your white cashmere sweater into your long, green pleated skirt. Letting out a small huff as you sprayed your perfectly curled hair one more time. Throwing your purse over your shoulder, you trudged down your hallway, your sneakers cost more than $400. You could still remember how your jaw dropped when you saw the pricetag, and apparently the kooks ate these shoes up. They needed them in every color, every new style that came out. It was madness, if you were being honest. It was like they were just giving away money. 

That’s what it seemed like, at least. You had been working at a retail store in the main strip of Figure 8 for over a year now. It was the only way you could afford the clothes you were wearing. You got a steep discount off the price, and you knew how to shop sales better than anyone. 

Your kook masquerade was always squished the moment you walked out to your car. The old beat up Honda that was always parked out front was nothing like what a kook would drive. It was too old. A 2005? The kooks didn’t know what anything from that year was- maybe only their participation trophies from little league that had the year engraved, that was about it. 

Unlocking the car, you tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, closing the door and buckling up your seatbelt. 

“Please start, Hilda..” You mumbled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as your hand turned the key in the ignition. She did, as usual- but you would never forget the time that she broke down. You cried for the ten minutes it took John B and JJ to rescue you. They were like your own little mechanics. Pope had called you in the car for the ten minutes while you sobbed and tried to calm you down- it didn’t work. Nothing worked until you saw your car fixed. You still owed them for saving your ass that day, regardless of how many times they assured you it was really nothing.

Crossing over the bridge from The Cut to Figure 8, you sighed: traffic. You knew by now the traffic was always bad as you headed into the main strip of town. It was the most popular place. Coffee shops, restaurants, stores.. Who wouldn’t be there if they had the money and time? Yeah, the coffee was overpriced and no one knew how to drive in their expensive cars, but it was still nice. Nicer than The Cut where people revved their engines when you scurried across the street.

–

It took you a half hour to finally pull into the parking lot behind your store. Saturdays were always the worst traffic wise, but boy, was it a good sales day. Checking the time, you bit your lip as you contemplated running to the cafe a few shops down to get a coffee. Technically you had time- you were always early. You had a fear of being late if you were being honest. You knew it looked bad, and it wasn’t hard for you to just leave a little early for wherever you were going. It took you two minutes to walk to the cafe, and you would give yourself ten minutes to be in the cafe, another two minutes to walk back, and you had twenty minutes until you had to clock in. What if the cafe was busy? What if it took you fifteen minutes in there? 

You slammed the car door and walked towards the Cove Cafe. The bell dinged as you walked in, a smile pressed to your lips as you pushed your sunglasses to your head. It wasn’t busy. What a relief. You smiled at the barista as you walked up to the counter. You and Gabriella had become good friends from your constant stops to the overpriced coffee shop. 

“The usual?” She asked with a grin, scribbling onto the cup as you nodded your head. You still had ten minutes to get back to the shop before you had to clock in. You smiled and waved back to Gabriella as you left the shop, sipping on the drink that had become a staple to your routine.

–

This Saturday was not a good day for sales. The weather must’ve been too nice, or everyone had gone to the mainland. The traffic you had fought through died down, and the small shop was deserted. Main Street in general was deserted. You and your co-worker, Abigail were basically staring at each other for four hours. It was painful at this point. You both had resorted to hiding off to the side hall to watch Netflix shows, peering your heads out when you heard the door open. 

Most of the time it was one or two people wandering in- usually tourons who just looked around and pulled you away from the show. It was your turn to walk out there when the door dinged, watching as two people walked in. Your eyes squinted as you looked to the security camera before heading out from behind the curtain. 

You tried to hide your surprise- and disgust- as your eyes glanced over to see Topper Thorton and Rafe Cameron in the small store. What did they want? Were they making rounds because Sarah was complaining about something John B had said? You knew it wasn’t a good idea John B was hanging around her. Were they threatening your group? 

Was it too late to shove Abigail out here? Was it too late to lock the doors and pretend you never opened? Were you allowed to not greet them? Spit in their faces? 

“Do you have this in a large?” Rafe’s question knocked you from your thoughts, blinking a few times before you furrowed your brows. 

“Let me go check for you.” You smiled at the two boys before heading behind the curtain where Abigail was. “How did I get so unlucky to have to deal with Topper and Rafe? How come you got a Hollywood directors cousin and I get two assholes who aren’t going to spend any money?” A groan escaped your lips before you brought yourself down the stairs to the stockroom. 

– 

“So you’re going to take the three shirts, the sweater and the two pants and then we’re going to order you the polo in the salmon color, and the sneakers, right?” You ran by him one more time. 

“Yeah, and ship it to the store if you can.” Rafe nodded, tapping his American Express Platinum card against the wooden counter. You nodded, typing away on the ipad register. It was a relief to finally be getting them out of the store, though they were a lot less of a pain then you had originally thought they would be. In fact, they were really respectful a complete 180 from what you were used to experiencing. They had hung back up everything they had tried on, and made sure to get a full glance of everything they could want in a different size or color before making you run to the stockroom once they were aware it was in a basement.

The only awkward part of the whole interaction was when you had absentmindedly walked back to the fitting rooms and saw Rafe shirtless as he spoke to Topper about the shirt he had on. 

“Pants fit well.” You awkwardly smiled, diverting your eyes from Rafe’s toned chest. You didn’t hate having them in the store, and he was about to drop a lot of money which was only going to be more money in your pocket.

“You’re all set. Everything should be here by Wednesday the latest. I’ll give you a call when they get here.” You smiled, watching him tap the heavy card against the card reader. His blue eyes glanced up to meet your own eyes. 

“Could you text me, actually? The number on file is my cell.” Your eyes glanced to Topper as he smirked, eyes glancing your way. To be honest, you were surprised. It wasn’t like you weren’t allowed to text customers for outreach or order updates- but it was the look Rafe was giving you, it was the smirk Topper had plastered to his face, it was the way Rafe was leaning on the counter. 

–

“And then as if spending an hour with them wasn’t bad enough, he asked me to text him when his order got to the store!” You were pacing in the living room of the chateau. You had driven straight there after work, it was a bit of a usual for all of you. After work on Saturdays, everyone would meet at the chateau and unwind, usually a beer or two, and pizza. 

“Why are you dressed like you’re from the 60’s?” JJ asked, as if he hadn’t been looking at you for the past fifteen minutes you had been ranting. 

“That isn’t the point, idiot.” Kiara chimed in, shaking her head at JJ’s comment. “Love the sweater by the way.” She smiled. 

“Dude, it retails for like three hundred, I almost threw up when a woman asked me where it was in the store the last time I wore it and then she bought it in the three colors we have.” You smiled back, finally plopping onto the couch next to JJ. His eyes were wide as he looked to your sweater, before petting it. 

“Fuck, it’s soft.” 

“It’s cashmere and get your grubby hands off of it. You probably have oil or beer on your hands, and it’s dry clean only.” Your hand smacked at his.

“So when’s your first date with Rafe.” JJ teased, a groan leaving your lips as your head fell back.

“Where the hell did a date even come into this? If he gets my number that’s just another way to threaten us.” 

“I wish John B and Sarah were here to hear all this.. Sarah would lose it.” Kie laughed. “But, we would probably get to the bottom of it. She would just text him and see what was up. Either we’re overthinking it, or we’re perfectly on track for whatever his twisted mind is thinking.” 

“So are you going to wear cashmere on your date with him? Do you think he’ll pay?” JJ continued, a grin planted to his face. He wasn’t going to let it die down, which you should have expected. Jeez, where was Pope, John B and Sarah when you needed them? 

– 

Your fingers hovered over your phone after you had texted Rafe, the chat bubble signaling he was responding - and fast. There was no need to be nervous about whatever he was saying, it was your job, after all. Texting him as he requested for the order he placed - you hadn’t done anything wrong or out of the ordinary. 

You jumped a bit feeling your phone vibrate in your hand, eyes scanning the text saying he would probably show up right before you closed because he was busy. Your lips pulled into a tight line, preparing yourself to have to stay past close. You hearted the message without even thinking, all sense of professionalism threw itself out the window. “Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, too late now to undo what had been done. 

–

The store was in nearly perfect condition, you had told Abigail to head home, that you would wait out Rafe’s arrival on your own, assuring her he would surely only be about 5-10 minutes. You finger spaced the racks twice, re-folded your tables and even dusted off the mannequins as you waited for his arrival. It was now thirty minutes past close, the doors had been locked, your fingers tapped along the desk as a sigh escaped your lips, eyes rolling. Pulling your phone out of pocket, your fingers fired off a message to Rafe. 

hey! i’ve gotta close up, we’re open from 9-7 tomorrow, just tell the associate you’re picking up :) 

Grabbing your things from the back, your keys twirled around your fingers, jumping as a figure was looking into the glass doors of the store. A gasp escaped your lips as your eyes looked to Rafe’s, a smile pressed to his lips as he caught the panic course through your body. A small debate ran through your brain, should you even let him have his things? He should and could wait until the following day. Teach him a lesson on being punctual. 

His hand knocked on the door, smile still pressed tight to his lips. It was almost cocky, like he knew that you would let him in. Before even making a conscious decision, your feet were carrying you to the door and unlocking it. 

“Maybe we should add a watch to your order, seems like you could use it.” Your tone was a bit harsher than you intended, but at this point, he was wasting your time. Holding the door open, you quickly locked it after he entered. 

“I’m only thirty minutes late.” 

“You knew when we closed, you’re abusing my kindness.” 

“Is that what you call the attitude?” Your eyes were glaring at this point, feet carrying you quickly to the back where Rafe’s items were packaged neatly, a bow around the handle of the bag and all. Grabbing it, you gasped yet again as he had been closer to the curtain to the back than anticipated. A chuckle escaping his lips. “You look like a deer in headlights.” 

“Can you just take your things and go? I’ve spent enough time in this store.” A huff escaped your lips as you shoved the bag to Rafe, already walking towards the front door to escort him out. “And don’t worry, I’ll send you watches during my next shift so you can work on being on time.” 

“So you want to see me again?” Rafe’s eyebrows raised, smirk pressing to his lips. He clearly was in no rush to leave, or leave without frustrating you any bit he could. 

“Right now I would love nothing more than to watch you leave, Rafe.” Unlocking the door, and opening it you motion for him to leave, your patience growing thin as he took his time walking from the store. “Thanks for shopping with us today.” You mutter before closing the door behind him and locking it. 

–

Scrolling through your phone, a text pulled your brows together. 

so, how’d i look walking away?

[ruewrote]

𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑜.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: jealously, arguments, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: is there someone else? by the weeknd WORD COUNT: 4.1k REQUESTED: yes NOTE: can you tell that me breaking no contact didn't go well?

navigation | ask | jj maybank masterlist

you were tired. not the kind of tired you could fix with a good night’s sleep or an extra cup of coffee. 

no, this was deeper. heavier. it had been weighing on you for months, maybe longer, and no matter how much you told yourself you were done.

that this time would be the last, you always found yourself right back where you started, with jj.

it wasn’t the kissing that made you feel this way, not exactly. you liked kissing him. god, you loved kissing him. the way his lips tasted faintly of weed and beer, the way he held you like you were the only thing grounding him. 

the way his stupid grin would soften just for you, his cocky bravado melting into something almost vulnerable. for a few fleeting hours, it felt like everything you wanted, everything you’d dreamed of since the first time you realised how deep your feelings for him ran.

but it was never real. not when the alcohol was buzzing in his veins, not when he whispered things he’d never say in the harsh light of day. “you know it’s always been you, right?” his voice would crack sometimes, and you’d feel your heart breaking and healing all at once. 

or there’d be the quiet, desperate promises. “one day, i’m gonna do right by you. i swear.” and for a moment, you’d believe him.

you always believed him.

but then the sun would rise, and jj would be gone. not gone in the literal sense. no, he’d still be around, cracking jokes, causing trouble, being him. but it was like the version of him you got in the middle of the night didn’t exist in the daylight. 

instead, you’d see him with someone else, his arm slung around some girl, his attention completely absorbed by her like you’d never even crossed his mind.

it wasn’t just one time. it wasn’t even a few times. it was a pattern, and it was breaking you. because as much as you wanted to hate him for it, you couldn’t. you couldn’t hate him for being who he was, for not giving you the thing you so desperately wanted but he so clearly wasn’t ready to give.

you hated the way you let him in, over and over again. the way you believed the things he said, even when he never followed through on them. you hated the way your heart sped up when he looked at you, even though you knew that look wouldn’t last. 

you hated the way your chest ached every time you saw him with someone else, the way you had to swallow the lump in your throat and force a smile like it didn’t matter.

but it did matter. it mattered too much.

so, you told yourself you were done. this time, for real. no more stolen kisses, no more whispered promises. no more jj.

moving on wasn’t easy, though. it wasn’t like you could just flip a switch and stop caring. but you tried. you told yourself it was okay to look at other guys, to flirt a little, to remind yourself that there were people out there who might actually be able to give you what jj couldn’t.

at first, it felt hollow. empty. none of the guys you talked to really clicked, and you started to wonder if you were just wasting your time. but then there was jackson.

jackson wasn’t like jj. he didn’t have that wild spark, that untamed energy that drew people in. but maybe that was a good thing. because jackson was steady. reliable. the kind of guy who made you feel safe instead of uncertain.

he wasn’t one for grand gestures or flashy moves. but he was thoughtful in ways that caught you off guard. like when he texted you first thing in the morning, asking how you slept. or when he remembered little things about you. your favorite coffee order, the song you hummed under your breath when you thought no one was listening.

and maybe the chemistry wasn’t instant. maybe there weren’t fireworks or that pull you’d always felt with jj. but there was something else. something quieter. something warmer.

still, there were moments when doubt crept in. 

late at night, when your phone buzzed and you half hoped it was him. even though you knew it wouldn’t be. or when you caught yourself comparing the two of them, wondering if you’d ever feel the same fire you felt for jj with someone else.

the doubt lingered. refusing to leave no matter how much you tried to shake it. 

the room had quieted down, the hum of conversation replaced by the soft rustling of the evening. the others had scattered. pope was buried in his notes on the porch, sarah and john b had disappeared into the twinkie for some ‘alone time,’ and kie had made herself scarce, muttering something about a late-night walk.

that left just you and jj, sprawled on opposite ends of the couch. you had tucked yourself into the corner, scrolling through your phone, a quiet giggle escaping your lips now and then. it wasn’t intentional, but each laugh seemed to draw jj’s attention, his eyes flickering toward you.

“what’s so funny over there?” he finally asked, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

you glanced up at him briefly, your lips still tugged into a soft smile. "nothing," you said casually, shrugging as you turned your attention back to your phone.

he shifted, sitting up slightly, leaning toward you, his eyebrows raised. "nah, come on. don’t give me that. who’s got you giggling like that? share with the class."

you hesitated, your fingers tightening around your phone as you debated whether or not to answer. you weren’t doing anything wrong, not really, but something about admitting you were texting jackson felt... complicated.

"it’s just jackson," you said finally, keeping your tone light. "he sent me something funny."

jj froze for a split second, so brief you might have missed it if you weren’t paying attention. but then he leaned back, his smirk slipping into place. "oh, jackson, huh?" he drawled, his voice dripping with something that wasn’t quite teasing but wasn’t far from it either. 

"what’s he got you laughing about? some dad joke or something?"

you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his sudden shift made your stomach twist. "it’s not a big deal, jayj," you said, shrugging again. "just a funny meme. relax."

"relax? i’m totally relaxed," he shot back, but there was an edge to his voice now, subtle but obvious to you. he stretched out on the couch, his arm draping over the back, his eyes fixed on you. "i mean, good for you, right? jackson seems like... a solid guy."

you could feel the tension creeping into the air between you, and you hated it. you hated how jj could make something so small feel so heavy, how his words, his tone, could tangle you up inside even when you tried so hard not to let them.

"yeah, he is," you said quietly, your eyes still on your phone. "he’s nice."

"nice," jj repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "that’s great. real exciting."

you looked up at him then, your gaze meeting his, and for a moment, the cocky mask he wore slipped. there was something raw in his eyes, something he couldn’t quite hide no matter how hard he tried.

"why do you care?" you asked softly, the question hanging between you.

he opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, his jaw tightening. for a moment, it looked like he might actually say something real, something honest. but then he shook his head, his smile sliding back into place.

"i don’t," he said with a shrug, his voice light and breezy. "just curious, that’s all. you know me, always gotta know what’s going on."

but you weren’t convinced, and from the way he avoided your eyes, you knew he wasn’t either.

you turned back to your phone, trying to focus on jackson’s message, but jj’s presence was impossible to ignore. the warmth of his presence, the way his leg brushed against yours when he shifted. everything about him pulled at you, even when you didn’t want it to.

the tension had been building for days, his snide comments had started small. barely noticeable jabs that you brushed off with a roll of your eyes. but they didn’t stop. every interaction seemed to carry a sharper edge, a hidden layer of something he wouldn’t address. and while he never said anything outright about what had been between you, it was there, unspoken, colouring every word that left his mouth.

by the end of the week, it had become unbearable.

you were sitting at home, sprawled on your bed with the tv on for background noise, trying to find some semblance of peace. but jj had shown up unannounced, like he always did, at first, he just hovered, pacing around your room, muttering something about john b, then pope, then kie. and when that didn’t hold his attention, he turned his focus to you.

"really?" he scoffed, nodding toward your phone. "let me guess, you’re texting jackson. again."

you froze, your grip on the phone tightening as your pulse spiked. he was baiting you. again, but this time, you weren’t in the mood to play along. "what’s your problem, jj?" you said, not looking up.

"my problem?" he said, his voice cutting as his eyes flicked over you. "i don’t have a problem. just didn’t realise you were into guys who need a manual to figure you out. guess you finally found someone slow enough to keep up."

that was it. that was the breaking point.

you stood up so fast your phone fell onto the floor, your chest heaving as you rounded on him. "what the hell is wrong with you?" you snapped, your voice louder than you’d intended. 

"you’ve been like this all week, taking cheap shots, acting like a total asshole. why? because i’m trying to move on? because i’m finally doing something for myself instead of waiting around for you to get your shit together?"

jj blinked, startled by the sudden outburst, but his defenses went up just as quickly. his jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly. "i don’t know what you’re talking about," he said, his voice colder now. "i’m just calling it like i see it."

"calling it like you see it?" you repeated, your voice shaking with anger. "no, jj. you’re being a coward. you can’t handle the fact that i’m not waiting around for you anymore, so you’re lashing out like some jealous boyfriend. grow up!"

"jealous?" he scoffed, his laugh bitter. "of jackson? please. the guy you’re settling for?”

"stop it," you snapped, your voice breaking slightly. "just stop. you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to act like this when you’re the one who’s been stringing me along for months. you don’t get to pick and choose when to care about me. you either want me, jj, or you don’t. but i can’t keep doing this with you."

for a moment, the room was silent, your words hanging heavy in the air between you. jj’s expression flickered, his mask slipping for just a second, and you saw something raw in his eyes. guilt. pain. maybe even regret. but it wasn’t enough. not this time.

"that’s what i thought," you said, your voice quieter now but still stern. "you can’t even say it, can you? you can’t admit that you don’t want me, but you can’t stand the thought of someone else making me happy either. that’s not love, jj. that’s just being selfish."

he opened his mouth to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. you shook your head, turning away from him as tears stung the corners of your eyes. "just go," you said, your voice trembling. "i can’t do this anymore."

but he didn’t move. he stayed frozen in the same spot, staring at you, like he was waiting for something.

you whipped around to face him, your hands shaking. "why the hell are you still here?" you snapped, fury rising in your chest. "are you really just gonna stand there? if you won’t leave, then i will."

without another word, you turned and stormed down the stairs, the adrenaline making your steps faster, sharper. you grabbed the door, slamming it behind you so hard the house seemed to tremble. 

you didn’t stop. your feet pounded the pavement, the cool night air biting at your skin, but you didn’t care. in all your anger, you hadn’t even grabbed a jacket, and now the chill of the night was cutting through you. 

you found yourself heading to the beach without even thinking. the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was distant, muffled by the pounding of your pulse in your ears.

you reached the sand, and collapsed down, too exhausted to care about the discomfort. the wind howled around you, you pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as if you could hold yourself together that way. 

the tears that had been threatening for so long finally broke free, flooding down your cheeks as the full weight of it hit you.

you couldn’t stop the sobs, each one shaking through your body. it felt like every bit of the anger, the hurt, the confusion, and the love you had poured into jj over the months came crashing down all at once. it wasn’t fair.

none of it was. you had given him everything, trusted him, believed his empty promises, and now... you were sitting alone on the beach in the dark, freezing cold, with nothing left but the ache in your chest.

you buried your face into your knees, the salt of your tears mixing with the salt of the ocean breeze, as you let the emptiness swallow you whole.

the tears had stopped, but they clung to your skin, leaving long streaks down your cheeks. your eyes were swollen, your lips tender and raw from the sobbing, and you just sat there, numb, staring out at the dark expanse of the ocean. 

the waves crashed relentlessly, matching the rhythm of the ache inside you, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. 

you had no idea how much time had passed. minutes? hours? the world felt like it had gone quiet around you, just you and the ocean. and then, the sound of footsteps. at first, you didn’t acknowledge it. 

you figured it was just the wind or some passing stranger, but the steps grew closer. you held your breath, the space around you suddenly feeling claustrophobic, like everything in you knew who was coming, even before you saw him.

the sound of a thud broke the silence as someone sat down beside you. you turned slowly, the muscles in your neck aching, but there he was. of course, it was him.

for a moment, all you could do was stare, the disbelief hitting you. your chest tightened again, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. you wiped it away angrily, but it didn't matter. the damage was already done.

a bitter, humourless laugh escaped you, the sound raw and broken. "why can’t you just leave me alone?" you muttered, the words barely audible. you tried to look away, but your eyes wouldn’t shift from him. 

you hated the way your heart twisted at the sight of him, even now, even after everything.

jj didn’t say anything at first, just sitting there beside you, his presence heavy. you could feel his gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. the silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken things.

you glanced back over to him to find his own eyes were swollen, lips and nose tinged pink from what you could only guess were from his own breakdown, his hands still trembling as they rested at his sides. 

you hated how, despite all the pain he’d caused, you still found him pretty in this moment. the vulnerability in him, the way he wore his brokenness so openly, it made your chest ache. it was the last thing you wanted to feel. 

he didn’t speak. neither did you. it felt like you were both waiting for the other to break first. but it wasn’t until the sound of the waves crashing against the shore felt too deafening that he finally spoke, his voice cracked, raw.

“i… i’m sorry," he began, voice thick with something like regret. "i’ve been a fucking idiot, okay? i know i have. and i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t know what i’m doing, or what i’ve done to you… but i need you to know that it’s not because i don’t care.”

his words were stuttering, full of shame, but the way he said it, the way his hands fidgeted, his desperation was impossible to ignore.

“i–god, i fucked this up, didn’t i? i… i always do this. i push, i pull, i make you feel like shit, and then… then i can’t stand the thought of losing you. but every time you walk away, i don’t know how to make you stay. i never know what the right thing to say is, and i just... i just hurt you again and again. i’m so fucking sorry."

you were still staring out at the ocean, fighting the hurt that sat heavy in your chest, fighting the urge to listen to the softness in his voice, to hear him out. but you couldn’t. not yet.

“i’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he said, his voice breaking. “i don’t deserve it. but i need you to know how much i fucking care about you. more than i know how to say. more than i can ever show. it’s like i don’t know what to do with it, so i make everything worse. but you–you matter to me more than anything else in my stupid fucking life. and if you can find it in you to forgive me... if you can just look at me the way you used to, i’ll do anything. i swear, i’ll do whatever it takes.”

his voice was softer now, quieter, almost pleading as he inched closer to you on the sand, his face full of regret. his eyes searched yours, desperate to find any trace of warmth, any sign that you still cared.

“i’m begging you,” he said, his voice trembling. “please. i can’t lose you. i can’t. i know i fucked up, but please. give me the chance to make it right. please don’t walk away from me. not like this.”

the words hung in the air between you, his desperate plea reverberating in the cold night as you sat there, trembling from the weight of it all. your chest felt tight, the pain of everything that had happened pressing on you, threatening to suffocate you. 

his words reached you, pierced through the numbness you had been trying to build around yourself. but you weren’t ready yet, not ready to let go of the anger, the hurt. you wanted to stay mad at him, wanted to keep your distance, to protect yourself.

but you couldn’t.

you felt the floodgates open, and the dam you’d so carefully built up around your heart cracked, letting the years of suppressed feelings break free in one overwhelming rush.

the tears came first, unbidden, streaking down your cheeks as your breath caught in your throat. you wiped at your face, trying to hold it together, but the weight of everything, the heartache that had built up for so long, was impossible to ignore. you turned toward him, your voice shook as you spoke, barely a whisper at first.

“you don’t get it,” you said, the rawness in your voice making it hard to speak. “you don’t get how much i wanted this… how much i wanted you.”

your hands were trembling now, your heart hammering as the words poured out, no longer able to keep them locked inside. “i’ve been holding on to this... this stupid hope, waiting for you to realise how i feel. but i couldn’t do it anymore, jj. i couldn’t keep waiting for you to come around. for you to see me. to see us. every time i tried to let you in, you pushed me away. every time you said you cared, i believed you, and you made me feel like an idiot for it."

you paused, trying to steady your breath as your chest tightened again. 

“i kept telling myself i was done. that i was over it. that i could move on. but every time i saw you with someone else, every time you pulled away, it tore me apart. it felt like i was drowning in it, jj. and i kept asking myself why i kept putting myself through that, why i kept letting you hurt me. but the truth is, i can’t stop wanting you. i can’t stop needing you.”

you took a shaky breath, your eyes brimming with tears again, but this time, they felt different. this time, they were from the depths of everything you’d been holding back. the fear. the hurt. the longing.

“i can’t do it anymore,” you whispered. “i need you. i’ve needed you for so long, but you never, never, let me be close enough. and it’s breaking me. it has been for so long.”

"i don’t want to be this broken, desperate person anymore," you continued, the tears coming faster now. "i can’t keep waiting for you to make up your mind. but god… god, i need you to choose me. i need you to finally see me. not as some game, not as someone you can just toss aside when it's not convenient for you anymore. i need to know you’re here for me. that you want me too.”

you looked up at him then, your heart in your throat, his eyes were wide, filled with a mix of guilt, pain. “i need you, jj,” you said again, your voice barely more than a whisper now. "i don’t care if it’s messy. i don’t care if it’s hard. i just need to know you’re here… that you’re really here."

the weight of it all hung in the air between you, and you felt exposed. but for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t care about hiding anymore. you were done pretending you didn’t need him. done pretending you could walk away from what had been growing between you for so long.

he reached out, tentatively at first, like he was scared you’d pull away. his fingers brushed against yours, a gentle touch that seemed to break the tension in the air.

“hey… hey, look at me.” his voice was softer than you had ever heard it, like he was trying to steady himself, trying to make sure he didn’t fuck this up. he moved closer to you, his other hand resting carefully on your cheek, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

“i’m here,” he said, his voice low, but full of conviction now. “i’m right here, and i’ve always been here, in my messed up way. i know i’ve hurt you. i know i’ve been a fucking idiot. i don’t deserve you, but damn it, i’m not going anywhere. i don’t want anyone else. it’s always been you, even when i was too stupid to admit it to myself. but i’m not afraid anymore.”

he let out a shaky breath, and you could see how real he was being. it wasn’t just the guilt on his face anymore; it was something else, something pure. it was like he was finally letting himself be vulnerable with you, really showing you what he’d been hiding all this time.

“i’m so sorry for making you feel like you had to fight for me,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “i should’ve chosen you from the start. i should’ve seen you. really seen you, for who you are. not just the person who’s always there when i need them. you’re more than that. you always have been.”

his forehead pressed gently against yours, and you could feel his breath mingling with yours. his hand moved to your back, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid that if he let you go, you’d slip away forever.

“i need you too,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “i’m not perfect. i’m never gonna be perfect. but i’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me. because you are my choice. always. you’re all i want.”

the warmth of his words, the tenderness in his touch, broke something open in you, you allowed yourself to lean into him fully. 

all the walls you had built around your heart started to crumble, piece by piece.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[ialreadymadeyouapromise]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: golden - harry styles WORD COUNT: 889

navigation | inbox | jj maybank masterlist

you’d been talking about getting a tattoo for months.

maybe years at this point. it had always been one of those things. 

‘when i have the money.’, ‘when i’m sure about the design,’ ‘when the time’s right.’ 

every time it came up, he’d tease you relentlessly.

“you? finally committing to a tattoo?” he’d laugh, leaning back on your couch.

“please. you can barely commit to what you want for dinner.”

you’d roll your eyes every time, but the truth was…he wasn’t wrong. you’d had a million ideas, a pinterest board, even a few consultations, but none of it ever felt solid enough to make it permanent. until now.

when you unexpectedly came into some extra cash. a little freelance gig that finally paid off, you’d walked past the tattoo studio you always told him about. the one with the big windows and the friendly artist whose instagram you stalked religiously. this time, you didn’t stop at the window. you went in.

the design had come to you. something about the sun, about warmth, about light and life, it just felt right. 

when they cleaned the area and held up a mirror for you, your breath caught. it was more perfect than you imagined, bold and intricate, the swirling lines almost alive against your skin.

“damn,” you whispered, unable to tear your eyes away.

the artist smiled knowingly. “looks good, huh?”

“it’s amazing, thank you!” you said, a grin spreading across your face.

after carefully wrapping it in a thin layer of clear foil, they handed you the aftercare instructions, their tone light but firm. “keep this on for a few hours, then follow the steps i gave you. it’s gonna look even better once it heals.”

you nodded, still staring at your reflection in awe. it was surreal. you’d finally done it.

and you couldn’t wait to show him.

you didn’t tell him right away. no texts, no calls, nothing. not because you were nervous. okay, maybe a little nervous, but because you wanted to see his reaction in person. when you did finally text him to come over.

his reply was typical: be there in ten. getting snacks!!!

when he arrived, he was already talking before you even opened the door.

“i swear, if you dragged me over here to talk about another tattoo you didn’t—” his words died in his throat the moment he saw your face.

you stepped back, letting him in with a small smile tugging at your lips. “what if i told you…i actually went through with it this time?”

he stopped mid step, eyebrows shooting up. “no way.”

you nodded.

“liar.”

“swear to god.”

“prove it.”

you took a breath, your pulse quickening, pulling the hem of your shirt up just enough to reveal the ink. his reaction was instant.

“holy–” he stopped himself, leaning closer, his voice trailing off, huffing out a surprised laugh. “you actually did it.”

“i told you i would,” you said softly, almost whispering.

he didn’t say anything at first, his eyes glued to the tattoo as if he was trying to memorize every line. his fingers twitched at his sides. wanting to reach out to touch you.

“it’s…it’s perfect,” he said finally, his voice a little rough around the edges. “it suits you.”

“yeah?” you couldn’t help but smile.

“yeah,” he said, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “i mean, i’m still kind of in shock. you actually did it. but–it’s beautiful. you’re beautiful.”

the last part slipped out so naturally, so quietly, that you almost missed it. almost.

your heart stuttered in your chest. “what?”

he blinked, his expression shifting like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. but then something in him shifted.

“i said you’re beautiful,” he repeated, his voice steadier now. “and i love it. the tattoo. you. all of it.”

you didn’t realise how close he’d gotten until you could feel the warmth coming off of him, the way his hand hovered just inches from your skin. “can i…?”

you nodded, and his fingers brushed against the edge of the tattoo, careful not to press too hard against the healing skin. the touch was so gentle, giving you goosebumps.

“is it bad that i'm kinda obsessed with this,” he murmured, his eyes tracing the design.then his eyes flicked back to yours, something in his expression you’d never seen before. 

“i can’t believe you actually did it,” he said again, softer this time. 

“you know, you’ve been here for all of it. all the indecision, the doubt…everything. i don’t think i would’ve done it without your overwhelming support.” your words sarcastic as playfully push his shoulder.

“don’t give me too much credit,” he said, though his lips curved into a smile. “this? this was all you.”

maybe it was the way he said it. maybe it was the way he was looking at you. whatever it was, you leaned in, kissing him.

it was soft at first. hesitant, testing, nearly going to pull away but the second his hand cupped your jaw, pulling you closer, the tinge of worry melted away. 

when you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, he let out a shaky laugh.

“took you long enough,” he said, his grin lopsided and so very him.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. 

“shut up.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

© ialreadymadeyouapromise 2025.

[rafecameronsleftbicep]

part 3 - big head

spitfire, rafe cameron

IT girl y/n moves from her life in London to take a break in New York for a couple of months as her followers continue to increase as people tune into her party lifestyle. Meeting her new best friend's insufferable older brother only adds to the chaos of her life.

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@urbrunettebombshell @lilithblackkk

(hope you enjoyed, lmk if you want to be tagged in the next)

[bubblesgarden]

always you — john b x reader

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summary: you and john b have been friends for years, but when kiara carrera comes along, things become different.

author's note: hi guys ! this is my very first piece of work i've posted here and i really hope you enjoy it ♡ if you did, please consider giving this a like, reblog, or comment ! feel free to give me a follow if you'd like to see more ♡

you were just eight years old when you first met john b. he had scraped knees and an untamed mop of hair, but his smile was infectious— like how the sun shone through your curtains on a summer morning, or when you listened to a song for the first time and would have it on repeat constantly. and before you knew it, you were spending every single day together. the two of you inseparable, running wild, dreaming up adventures, and sharing secrets that you swore would never leave the walls of the chateau.

for years, it was you and him— two kids hand in hand, against the world. at least, it felt that way.

but then kiara carrera came along. she was cool, easy going, and fit into the group so effortlessly that you couldn’t really blame john b for wanting to hang out with her. at first, it didn’t bother you— after all, kie was great. but slowly, you noticed the dynamic start to shift.

the days where it was just you and john b became fewer and farther between. instead of running off to hide up in the treehouse in your backyard for hours, or lay smushed up together on the hammock at the chateau while you stared at the stars to talk about everything and nothing, he was suddenly too busy. too preoccupied. with kiara. 

at first, you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. john b was allowed to have other friends. but as days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, the sting of being phased out by your best friend since childhood was too much to ignore.

one night, after another gathering around a fire where you felt like a shadow in your own group; constantly being talked over or ignored completely, you decided you’d had enough.

you didn’t exactly know what you were going to say— there were too many things running through your mind that you were positive it was all going to turn into a bunch of word vomit when you’d eventually face him. or you’d end up freezing. there was no in between unfortunately. 

so when you finally approached the chateau, you found john b sitting on the porch, sipping on a beer as he gazed out at the stars. the glow of the moonlight highlighted the familiar curve of his jaw, and those messy curls you had ruffled a thousand times before.

“can we talk?” you ask, skipping the introductions and small talk. that would just make this worse, you thought. you stepped up onto the creaky wood, arms crossed over your chest, almost in a way to hold yourself together. 

he turned to you, surprised. almost like he had forgotten you existed— surprised to see you here, where you had been day after day, and night after night, during your years of being friends. it wasn’t unusual at all for you to show up unannounced, but right now, with that look on his face, apparently it was unusual. 

“yeah, of course,” he nodded, motioning for you to sit down on the tattered, old couch on the porch. sitting down beside him, you folded your arms around your knees. for a moment, the silence stretched between you, awkwardness and the sound of cicadas filling the void.

“what happened to us?” you broke the silence, voice barely above a whisper but still steady as you turn your head to look at him. he hadn’t changed much all these years— still had that stupid boyish charm that seemed to get him out of trouble, and those same, soft eyes. 

you felt him stiffen besides you, and you almost scoffed. “what do you mean?” he asks, his tone matching yours.

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, the hurt you’d been bottling up spilling into your words. “it used to be you and me. we spent every day together. and then all of a sudden kie came along, and it’s like… i don’t exist anymore.”

his brows furrowed, and you saw the guilt flash across his face. “that’s not true.” you could pinpoint his defensive tone from a mile away— the same tone he would use when he got in trouble for something he did do, but always tried to claim he didn’t. 

“isn’t it?” you laugh bitterly, shaking your head a little. “come on, john b. you barely talk to me anymore. if i didn’t come looking for you, i don’t even think you would have noticed i wasn’t around.”

“that’s not fair.”

“neither is feeling like i lost my best friend.”

the crack in your voice must’ve struck something inside him because you watched as his defences crumbled. he set his beer down, running a hand through his already messy curls as he sighed deeply.

“it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he spoke, his voice quiet.

“then why was it?” you pressed, eyes still trained on him.

he hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting away before they finally met yours again. “because i screwed up.”

your brows furrowed, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said quietly.

john b exhaled shakily. “i started… feeling things i wasn’t supposed to feel. about you. and i thought if i got closer to kie, it would— i don’t know, distract me or something. make it go away.” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “but it didn’t. it just made everything worse because i couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, the weight of his confession settling over you like a blanket. “so, what? you just pushed me away instead of telling me the truth?”

“i didn’t want to ruin what we had.” his voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw the fear in his eyes. “you’re my best friend, and if you didn’t feel the same way— i can’t lose you, (y/n). i thought maybe if i kept my distance, it would hurt less.” 

you swallowed the lump in your throat, emotions churning in your stomach. anger, hurt, but underneath it all, a flicker of something you had buried a long time ago. 

“john b—”

“i’m sorry,” he cut you off, voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just— i didn’t know what else to do.”

you searched his face, the boy you’d known for many years looking at you like he was afraid you might disappear. that you might run away and never speak to him again. 

“you’re an idiot,” you laughed softly, shaking your head. 

he looked startled, blinking in confusion. “what?”

“all this time, you were scared of ruining our friendship, and you didn’t even think to ask how i felt.”

“how you felt?” he repeated, brow furrowing. the pure confusion over his features made you want to laugh, but instead you just rolled your eyes. 

“i liked you too, john b. i still do.”

his eyes widened slightly, hope flickering in them like the fireflies dancing in the yard. “you do?”

“yeah,” you admitted, your voice softening. “but you’re going to have to make up for being a complete idiot about it.”

a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face. “i think i can manage that.” 

before you could get another word out, he leaned in, hand brushing against yours as he closed the distance. the kiss was tentative at first, a question in the way his lips moved against yours. but when you didn’t pull away, you felt as he deepened the kiss, like he was trying to make up for all that time he’d wasted worrying. 

when you finally broke apart, he let out a breathless chuckle, resting his forehead against yours. 

“i’m never phasing you out again,” he promised.

“oh so you were phasing me out?” you tease, resulting in several pokes to your side by the curly haired male in protest.

“okay— okay! but seriously. you better not,” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips.

and just like that, it was you and john b again. always had been. always would be.

[hanluex]

♡ NO AIRPODS FOR YOU — RAFE CAMERON

bf!rafe x gn!reader | wc : 0.8k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, established relationship, swearing, somewhat morbid threats, crack / comedy (?) | loki's lines — for the way i love this man, this drabble didn’t really include much of him 😭

“jj, i’m serious! you are always taking my things and leaving them everywhere!”

you grumbled in annoyance, tired of the blond troublemaker hijacking your items.

the two of you were having your daily banter outside the chateau, next to the hot tub, while the rest of the pogues and your boyfriend, rafe, sat on the patio, watching everything unfold.

“dude, calm the fuck down, jeez.” jj rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag off the tree stump next to him. “i literally didn’t take your airpods! i don’t have them! see!”

he turned his bag upside down over the hot tub, shaking it to show he had nothing inside.

you almost felt bad for blaming your missing airpods on jj when suddenly the small white box dropped from the bag, falling into the water.

“jj maybank!” you yelled out in shock, seeing the surprise on jj’s face as he quickly scrambled into the hot tub to retrieve your airpods that he happened to have. “you fucking asshole!”

john b, sarah, and pope stifled their laughter upon seeing what happened. while kie and rafe winced, knowing they were about to witness another showdown between you and jj.

“shit, shit!” jj grabbed your airpods from the hot tub floor, holding them up as water dripped out of it. “i really didn’t know it was in there, y/n. i swear! i wouldn’t have shaken it over the hot tub like that. i promise, i didn’t know.”

you narrowed your gaze at the blond, raising your finger angrily. “you better start running, maybank. because when i find you, i swear on my life, i will fucking skin you alive and feed you to the magpies alive so you can—” a surprised gasp left your lips as you were lifted off your feet.

as soon as you started threatening jj, rafe walked towards you, somewhat fearing for the blond’s life as he knew of your abilities to scare a person shitless with just your words.

without another word, rafe simply wrapped his arms around your hips and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walked you towards the chateau.

“we’ve talked about this before, darlin’.” he drawled. “you shouldn’t use that pretty mouth of yours to say such morbid shit.”

he sat you down on the patio, arms crossing over his chest as he looked at you. sarah and kie smiled teasingly as they made eye contact with you, knowing that all this was routine at this point.

john b and pope simply shook their heads, walking towards jj, who still stood in the middle of the hot tub, completely stunned by your threats — no matter how many different variations of them he heard.

“but you really can’t blame me!” you grumbled under your breath, avoiding eye contact with your boyfriend. “he’s the one who just dropped my airpods in water! if i could, i would burn him at stake and—”

“i’ll buy you new airpods.” rafe interjected, an amused look on his face. “only if you promise to never let another morbid threat ever leave your pretty lips. ‘kay, sweetheart?”

your eyes gleamed with excitement at getting new airpods. “i promise! not a single threat will ever escape me. i’m a new person now. threats are not my thing anymore, i solemnly swear.” you raised a hand as if you were taking an oath.

sarah and kie couldn’t help but burst out laughing at your antics, shaking their heads as they watched you become complete putty in rafe’s hands with just a few words.

just as you took a deep breath, about to let go of your old self, jj threw your airpod case at you, a teasing grin on his face as he noted the smile on your face.

this blondie really couldn’t stand seeing your smile.

“you dipshit! i swear, test me one more time and i swear i will kick–” you froze upon seeing rafe’s raised brows, an amused look in his eyes as if he challenged you to continue your sentence. “–away your worries and shower you with love because you are my bestest friend in the entire world.”

rafe snorted at your quick thinking. “great save, darlin’. i almost thought you were gonna break your promise there for a second, you know?” he smirked.

“as if i’d let jj ruin my only chance of getting new airpods.” you scoffed in disbelief and shook your head confidently. “because if that happened, i’d pop his eyes out of his head and make him eat them.”

the realization hit you as soon as the words left your lips, cursing under your breath. you covered your face with your hands, groaning in regret at your stupidity.

rafe bit back a laugh, nodding to himself. from the moment he made you make that promise, he knew it wouldn’t be long until you broke it.

“and … you broke your promise. great job holding back for the last three minutes. also, just so you know, no airpods for you.”

taglist : @maverick-wingman @loving-and-dreaming (to be added, please send a dm or ask!)

[mrsstarkey1]

nothing good (getaway car) - d.s.

yn is in a loving relationship with a guy she has no complaints about. tom(blyth, holland, hiddleston, take ur pick) is amazing. only problem? it's too good. restless, always searching for an exit, she never expected to find it in drew starkey. one lingering glance from across the bar and suddenly, she’s slipping into the passenger seat of a getaway car she knows is bound to crash. but that’s the thing about running—it only ever feels good until the chase is over.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: slight smut, infidelity, cursing

obx masterlist

The theater is dark, the screen flickering with golden light, but you can’t focus.

Tom is sitting beside you, his hand resting on your thigh, the way a good boyfriend’s should. He’s completely absorbed in the film—his film—the one he’s poured his heart into. Every time the audience reacts, he squeezes your knee in excitement, like he’s saying, Did you hear that? They loved it.

And you try. You really do. You keep your eyes on the screen, laughing at all the right moments. But your mind drifts, the way it always does.

Because here you are again—bored.

It’s always like this. You get restless, your fingers itch for something new. You don’t mean to be this way. You don’t want to be this way. But no matter how good a man is, no matter how many red carpets or candlelit dinners or whispered I love yous you collect, you always end up feeling like this.

Detached. Distant. Disconnected.

Tom leans over, whispering, “That was my favorite scene. Did you like it?”

You force a smile, turning to him, trying to shake yourself out of it. “I loved it.”

His brows furrow slightly, blue eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod quickly, turning your attention back to the screen. “Of course. I’m just tired.”

He believes you. Because why wouldn’t he? You’re the perfect girlfriend—always there, always smiling, always saying the right things.

But tonight, you’re not sure how much longer you can pretend.

The weight of it all presses against your chest—too many eyes, too many expectations. You can feel Tom’s hand at the small of your back, warm and steady, a silent reminder of the role you’re supposed to play. You force a smile, let him guide you through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces, laughing at jokes you barely register.

And yet, beneath the shimmering lights and flowing champagne, something inside you itches, restless and uncontained.

It’s loud. Too loud.

Hollywood types fill the room—directors, actors, agents, all talking too fast, laughing too hard. Tom is in his element, shaking hands, flashing that charming grin. You squeeze his arm. “Go socialize, movie star. I’m gonna grab a drink.” 

He hesitates for half a second before kissing your temple. “I won’t be long.”

You nod, already turning toward the bar.

But once you get there, you don’t leave.

One drink turns into two. Two turns into—who’s counting? The ice in your glass melts as you swirl it idly, your mind still elsewhere.

And then, you feel it.

A pair of eyes on you.

You look up, and there he is.

Drew Starkey.

Sitting across the room, leaning back in his seat, one arm draped lazily over the back of the booth. He’s watching you, a slow smirk playing on his lips, the kind that makes your stomach flip in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

You should look away.

You don’t.

He tilts his head slightly, as if to say, What’s a pretty girl like you doing drinking alone?

And that’s when you realize it—this is the moment. A moment you experience all too much. The point of no return.

You can get up, find Tom, pretend you never locked eyes with Drew Starkey across a crowded room. You haven’t done anything wrong, yet. 

Or you can pick up your drink, take a sip, and see what happens next.

You don’t look away.

Neither does he.

It’s a game of chicken now, the kind you shouldn’t be playing when your boyfriend is just across the room, laughing it up with his costars. But Drew doesn’t seem to care about that little detail—not with the way his lips curl at the edges, amused, like he already knows exactly how this will play out. 

And then—he stands.

You exhale slowly, turning back to your drink like you don’t notice. Like you don’t feel the heat of his gaze cutting through the crowd as he moves toward you.

A beat. Then, a voice, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.

“You looked lonely.”

You glance up. He’s already leaning against the bar, a lazy confidence in the way he takes up space. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his collarbone, sleeves rolled up in a way that feels entirely calculated.

You arch a brow, playing along. “And you just couldn’t let that stand?”

Drew tilts his head slightly, eyes flickering over your face. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he orders a drink, “Old Fashioned, please,” before turning his full attention back to you.

“Let’s just say I’m a humanitarian.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Saint Drew Starkey, patron of lonely girls at bars.”

He smirks, tapping the rim of his glass before taking a slow sip. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

The conversation is easy, effortless, a kind of push-and-pull that makes something in your chest tighten. You’re intrigued—because of course you are. Because he’s intriguing.

And hot as hell.

You knew that before, in a vague, yeah-he’s-attractive kind of way. But now that he’s right in front of you, now that you can see the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his blue eyes flicker under the dim bar lights—yeah, you get it.

He studies you like he’s trying to figure something out.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing sitting at a bar alone at her boyfriend’s movie premiere?”

There it is.

He knows who you are. He knows who you’re here for. And he’s still standing way too close, still watching you like he wants something.

The smart thing to do would be to laugh, brush him off, go find Tom.

Instead, you tilt your head, tapping a nail against your glass. “Maybe I like a little space.”

Drew hums, like that answer doesn’t surprise him. Like he already knew it.

And then, he leans in—just enough for his voice to drop into something lower, more dangerous.

“Or maybe you’re just looking for an exit.”

Your breath catches. "Is that an observation?" You tilt your head to search his eyes, "or an invitation?"

Drew’s lips twitch like he wasn’t expecting you to match his energy so easily. He takes a slow sip of his drink, watching you over the rim before setting the glass down with a quiet clink.

“Depends,” he muses, running a finger along the condensation on his glass. “Would you take it if it was?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. He’s good—too good. The kind of smooth that should make you wary. Key word being should.

Instead, you angle yourself toward him, elbow resting on the bar as you meet his gaze. “You always talk in circles, or is that just for me?”

Drew smirks, tipping his head slightly. “Maybe you make it more fun.”

His voice is easy, teasing, but there’s something beneath it. A challenge. A dare.

Your fingers tap against the bar. You should excuse yourself, find Tom, do anything but sit here, entertaining this.

But instead, you lean in just slightly, close enough that his scent—something sharp, something expensive—wraps around you.

“You think I’m here for fun?” you ask, lips barely curving.

Drew hums, eyes flickering to your mouth before dragging back up. “Here—meaning sitting at this bar with me?”

You nod once, unsure of his angle.

He pretends to think it over, tilting his glass in his hand. Then, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach tighten, he murmurs, “No. I think you’re here because you hate events where you have to pretend to be in love with your boyfriend.”

Your fingers tighten around your drink. The ice clinks against the glass.

Because he isn’t wrong.

And the fact that he sees it so clearly? That should bother you.

But you find yourself leaning in just a little closer. "And what makes you think I’m pretending?"

Drew smirks, slow and knowing. "Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t still be sitting here."

You stare at him, your brain and heart running on overdrive.

You know what should happen next. You should finish your drink, put on a smile, and go find Tom—stand next to him, wrap an arm around his waist, remind yourself that he’s good. That he’s kind, and sweet, and proud of you. That you’re supposed to be his.

But of course, you don’t.

“And if I left?” you ask, voice quiet, just for him. “Would you follow?”

His lips twitch, his amusement barely concealed. “That depends. Are you running?”

Your pulse jumps. You swallow, setting your glass down. 

Because yes. Of course you are. You always do.

Drew watches you carefully, fingers tapping against the bar. He could call your bluff. Could smirk and let you go back to your perfect little life. Could make it easy for you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost against your cheek. “You want an exit?” he murmurs. “I’ll give you one.”

You don’t have time to second-guess.

Because suddenly, your feet are moving. Your heart is pounding.

You don’t check to see if Tom notices. You don’t check to see if anyone does. You just slip through the crowd, past glittering gowns and crisp suits and clinking glasses, and push through the doors into the cool night air.

A sleek black car is idling by the curb. The driver barely glances up before stepping out to open the door.

Drew nods at him, then looks at you. A silent question.

You take one last breath of hesitation. One last chance to stop this before it starts.

The second you slide into the car, a laugh bubbles up in your throat—light, breathless, entirely uncontrollable.

Drew gets in after you, shutting the door with a quiet click, and that’s it. You’re gone. No cameras, no flashing lights, no careful smiles. Just the two of you and the city slipping past in a blur.

You press a hand to your lips, still grinning, the adrenaline coursing hot through your veins. This is so bad. Reckless. Messy. But God, it feels good.

Drew watches you, amusement flickering in his eyes as he leans back, stretching an arm along the seat. “You always run this fast?”

You shoot him a look, “Only when there’s something worth running to.” He's good, you've seen that throughout the night. But you know you're better.

His lips twitch, and instead of answering, he reaches forward—plucks a chilled bottle of champagne from the car’s minibar like it was meant for this exact moment. The foil crinkles, the cork pops, and you flinch before giggling again, head tilting back against the seat.

“Jesus,” you exhale, watching as he pours, the bubbles rising in the glass.

Drew smirks, passing one to you. “To running.”

You clink your glass against his, eyes glinting under the streetlights. “To the story of my life," you mumble.

The champagne is cold and sharp against your tongue, fizzing like the thrill still buzzing under your skin. You take another sip, letting your body sink into the moment, into the warmth, into the sheer wrongness of it all.

Drew watches you over the rim of his glass, gaze flickering to your lips before dragging back up. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.

Because you know.

This is the part where you should hesitate. Where you should remember Tom, the careful life you just stepped out of, the lines you’re about to cross.

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, setting your glass aside, hands bracing against the seat as you crawl onto his lap, fabric slipping high on your thighs.

Drew hums, low in his throat, hands finding your waist like it’s second nature. “You move fast.”

You smirk, fingers curling into the undone knot of his tie. “You just noticed?"

Then his lips are on yours, hot and insistent and God help you, you can't remember Tom's name.

The kiss is messy, rushed, all tongue and need, like you’re making up for lost time neither of you even knew you missed. You fist a hand in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth.

The car takes a sharp turn, and Drew pulls back just enough to look at you, lips swollen, eyes dark. His fingers ghost over your jaw, then trail down, slow, deliberate.

“This is the part," he licks his lips, eyes scanning over your face, "where you tell me if you want to go home, or to the hotel on the end of the street."

You could play coy. You could make him chase. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean in, lips brushing against his, and whisper, “Make sure it's a suite."

The grin that spreads across his face is pure sin. 

The next few minutes are a blur of heat and hands and whispered things you won’t remember in the morning. The car stops, a door opens, and Drew is pulling you out, his grip firm around your wrist.

You follow him through the back entrance, avoiding the glow of security cameras overhead. The way he moves—quick, confident, like he’s done this before—sends a thrill down your spine. Inside, the lobby is quiet, dimly lit. A night worker barely glances up as Drew approaches the desk, exchanging a few low words you can’t quite catch.

It’s the way it happens so smoothly, the way the worker nods without question, slipping him a key card like it’s routine, that has something twisting deep in your stomach.

You should probably wonder. Ask questions. But instead, it just turns you on more.

Drew glances back at you, lips twitching like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He slides the key into his pocket and reaches for your hand, his grip firm, leading you toward the elevators.

The moment the doors slide shut, his hands are on you again—palming at your waist, pressing your back against the cool metal, mouth hungry at the curve of your jaw.

The ride to the top floor is torturous. Every second feels stretched too thin, charged with heat. When the doors open, he doesn’t let go of you, walking backward down the hall like he can’t bear to break the contact.

The second the suite door shuts behind you, Drew’s on you again—his hands firm on your hips, his mouth already seeking yours like he’s been starved for it. His kisses are deep, urgent, but teasing too, like he enjoys dragging this out just to watch you fall apart.

Your fingers work quickly at the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, reveling in the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. He lets you undress him without protest, but his hands aren’t idle—his fingers skim under the hem of your dress, pushing it up inch by inch, teasing.

As he tugs it over your head, he leans in, breath warm against your ear. “You always this impatient, or am I just special?”

You scoff, raking your nails down his chest. “Shut up and take your pants off.”

His low chuckle vibrates against your skin, but he obeys, kicking them off to be long forgotten. The two of you leave a careless trail of clothing across the hardwood floor, stumbling blindly toward the bedroom.

You pull back for a breath, chest rising and falling, but Drew doesn’t let you go far—his lips immediately attach to your collarbone, teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin. A sharp sigh escapes you, your head tilting back to give him more access.

Your eyes flick around the room, momentarily distracted. "God, this place is nice," you murmur.

Drew hums against your skin, his lips still working their way lower. “Yeah? You thinking about interior design right now?”

You chuckle, fingers weaving into his hair as you tug lightly, forcing his gaze down to yours. "No, baby, only thinking of you," you tease, looking at him through your lashes.

A slow smirk spreads across his lips, dark and knowing, before his hands slide down to your thighs—gripping firm before lifting you with effortless strength. You barely have time to react before he all but throws you onto the mattress, the plush bedding sinking beneath your weight.

He towers over you, his eyes raking over your body like he’s committing every inch to memory. Then, he tilts his head, voice rough yet laced with amusement. 

"You know," he muses, finger tracing down your bare stomach, dancing around the fabric of your thong. "I don’t feel great about stealing Tom’s girl, especially on the night of his big premiere," he tsks. "He’s a great actor. Seems like a great guy."

You freeze for half a second, your brows lifting as your eyes snap to his. The smirk playing on his lips is lazy, arrogant—like he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to get under your skin.

Your fingers ghost over the waistband of his briefs, "Are you saying you want to stop? Hmm? 'Cause I'm sure he'd be happy to come take your place. I mean, you've already got me all hot and ready for hi-"

Drew lets out a sharp breath—almost a laugh, but darker. His mouth ghosts over your jaw, trailing down your neck, teeth grazing over your pulse point as he mutters, "Careful."

Heat pools low in your stomach, and you don’t bother fighting the grin tugging at your lips.

"Then shut up the fuck up about Tom."

He huffs out a low chuckle against your skin. "Who?" 

That’s enough talking, you both decide. 

His lips are slow, teasing, dragging across your skin in a way that has you gasping, hands grasping at him, nails digging into his back. He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every breathy moan he pulls from your lips.

And when he finally gives in, it’s fast and slow all at once—like he can’t get enough of you, but also wants to make this last. His touch is firm, controlled, but there’s a hunger beneath it, an urgency that makes heat coil low in your stomach. His hands roam your body, memorizing, mapping, claiming.

He’s good. Too good. The kind of good that makes you dizzy, that makes you forget your own name, let alone the one of the man you left behind tonight.

“God,” you breathe, fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves against you, burning skin on burning skin. He makes a noise in the back of his throat at the sound of your voice, like he’s reveling in the way you come undone beneath him. His name spills from your lips, a whisper, a plea, a curse all at once.

Drew’s mouth finds yours again, swallowing every sound, every broken breath. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he knows this can’t last but wants to make it count anyway.

And you let him.

You let him pull you under, let him ruin you in the best possible way, let him set a fire to everything you thought you knew.

Because for the first time in a long time—you feel something.

And it’s intoxicating. 

Drew is asleep beside you, his arm hooked around your waist, his breathing slow and steady. The room is dark except for the city lights bleeding in through the window, painting streaks of gold across the sheets.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind still running in circles. You stare at the ceiling, your heart pounding with something that isn’t just adrenaline. It’s something deeper, something heavier. The weight of everything you just did, everything this means.

You should leave.

But as you shift slightly, testing the idea, Drew’s grip tightens in his sleep, his arm flexing just enough to pull you closer, as if even unconscious, he can sense you trying to go.

You freeze.

A sharp inhale. A pause.

Your eyes flick toward the hotel desk. A notepad and pen sit untouched beside the lamp, waiting.

You think about what you’d write.

I’m sorry. No. Too simple. Too empty.

This was a mistake. A lie.

Don’t follow me. You don’t even know if you mean it.

The words swirl in your mind, shifting, twisting, refusing to settle.

You press your lips together, staring at the blank page from across the room.

And you wonder if you’ll actually write anything at all.

---

requests open!

[lazysoulwriter]

at your feet - rafe cameron.

SUB RAFE SUB RAFE SUB RAFE

Rafe Cameron was many things. Dangerous, reckless, a spoiled, rich asshole who acted like he owned the world. But in reality? He was yours. Entirely. Pathetically. Willingly.

Right now, he was on his knees in front of you, spoon in hand, eyes wide and eager as he held it up to your lips. "C'mon, baby, one more bite," he coaxed, voice softer than a whisper.

You stretched out on the couch, making a show of tilting your head, pretending to think. "Hmm… I don’t know if I want more."

Rafe nearly pouted. "But you barely ate, princess. You said you wanted ice cream."

You smirked, watching his desperation grow. "I did. And you got it for me like a good boy." You reached out, cupping his cheek, feeling the way he instantly leaned into your touch.

"Of course I did," he breathed, nuzzling against your palm. "I'll always get you whatever you want. Just tell me, baby. Anything."

His devotion was almost ridiculous. Almost. Because the way he was looking at you? That deep, desperate need to please you—like nothing else in the world mattered? Yeah, you could get used to this.

"Okay," you finally sighed dramatically. "One more bite."

Rafe's entire face lit up like you had just given him oxygen after he’d been drowning. He quickly lifted the spoon to your lips, watching every move you made as you took it in, humming in satisfaction.

"Good girl," he murmured instinctively.

You arched a brow, and Rafe immediately froze, realization dawning. His mouth opened, closed, then—

"I'm sorry," he rushed out, eyes widening. "You're a good girl! I didn’t mean—I mean—"

You burst out laughing, and Rafe groaned, face burning as he buried it against your thigh. "You're so fucking cute," you teased, raking your fingers through his hair.

"You're evil," he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin.

"And you love it."

Rafe sighed, pressing a kiss to your knee. "Yeah, I really do."

[evermoresversion]

If you could do one where reader and JJ used to be together secretly but they broke up and stayed friends and like months later when JJ is with Kiara all the pogues find out about their relationship it would be awesome <33

The crickets were chirping in the background while you leaned your hip against the wall in the backyard of your house and JJ was in front of you, playing with his hat. Your gaze was on the floor as you both stood in a tense silence.

“So that's it?” He broke the silence with a trembling voice and you sighed, looking up into his eyes, seeing the pain in them.

“You know this is the best decision.”

He nodded slowly and turned around, walking towards his motorcycle.

“We'll be fine, right?” You raised your voice and JJ just nodded again.

“Yeah, I just need time.”

He started the engine of the motorcycle and took off from there, leaving a feeling of emptiness in you but you knew everything would be fine.

It had been at least three months since the two of you had broken up and everything was going smoothly between you and JJ. All except that you started to notice Kiara very close to him until the two of them finally started dating.

You didn't feel jealous or anything like that since you always noticed a certain energy between them, but it was definitely strange seeing your ex with someone else.

One day when the Pogues were relaxing at the Chateau, you walked into the kitchen to make yourself a PB&J sandwich. You couldn't reach the peanut butter until an arm reached out and grabbed it easily for you. You turned around and it was the blonde you had been so in love with.

“Are you going to make yourself a sandwich?” You nodded with a knowing smile. You had always had a tradition that he would prepare your sandwiches and you would pay him with a make out session. “Let me do it for you.” He took the jam from your hand and began his work. “When we were dating you liked these.”

“I…”

“Were you two dating!?” A voice filled the kitchen, interrupting your words and you both stopped what you were doing to look at the person. It was Sarah.

“Y-yeah, I mean…” JJ scratched the back of his neck and looked at you for support.

“A long time ago.”

“Oh god.” She muttered and left the kitchen towards the porch where the others were.

You and JJ followed hot on her heels and Sarah was already telling what she had just found out.

“The two of them were dating, did you know that?!” Everyone looked at you both in surprise except for Kiara who was looking at JJ with a frown.

You both tried to think of what to say until finally you were the one who spoke.

"It was a while ago, we both got over it."

You looked at Kiara and she gave you a sympathetic smile. The others started asking questions about your former relationship until they finally stopped the topic because they were hungry.

While they went to buy something to eat, you, JJ and Pope stayed at the Chateau. You and the blonde went back to the kitchen to finish preparing your sandwich and that's when you realized that you could become good friends after all.

Until he touched your hand and all the memories came back to your mind.

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2024.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

a Second Chance | Rafe Cameron x Maybank!reader

Summary: After being in a secret relationship with Rafe and becoming pregnant, he denied the entire relationship, making it known your son wasn’t his. However, he can’t deny it for much longer - your son is the spitting image of Rafe. 

Part 1 

A/N: This is a continuation of the fic above. This can be read as stand alone or you can read the other first for a bit of background on how things played out and telling Rafe you were expecting. 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Your son's giggles were music to your ears. You smiled in adoration at his uncle JJ chasing him through the yard, his little toddler legs moving as fast as they could. He loved his uncle JJ. And his other aunts and uncles too. After all the drama with Rafe, he and the other Pogues stepped in, becoming your village and boy are you glad you had them. You wouldn’t have been able to do it without them. 

Rafe continued the story, the baby wasn’t his and you were never in a relationship. However, as time has passed, people are starting to get suspicious, especially as your son grows because he’s the spitting image of Rafe. It is getting to the point, Rafe truly can’t deny him. 

“Come on boys, let's get to the beach before it gets crowded,” You call out to JJ and Jackson; the other Pogues loading up in the Twinkie. You and JJ worked hard, going in half on a car that JJ rebuilt to make it drivable. JJ knew the Twinkie wouldn’t be a safe vehicle to transport his tiny nephew and made it his mission to find you something sustainable and reliable. 

“Mama!” Jackson squeals as he nears, jumping into your arms. 

You laugh and kiss his head before placing him in his carseat and securing him. “Ready to go to the beach?” 

He nods with a big grin; Rafe’s smile. The smile you’d fell in love with. You can’t deny it doesn’t hurt a little when you look at your son, because staring back is Rafe and all the hurt that came with him. But you wouldn’t trade Jackson for anything in the world. He’d brought light into your life and filled your broken heart. Jackson is so smart and intelligent, even at only 3 years old. He’s got a sweet and loving personality and he loves when he can make you laugh. And Rafe is missing it all, time he will never get back.

~

After settling at a spot on the beach, you all unpacked, setting the chairs and umbrella up. Pope dropping the cooler under the umbrella with a grunt, “jeez what the hell did you guys pack in that thing.” 

Jackson started tugging you toward the water, “come mama!” 

“No baby hold on, let's put sunscreen on first. Then you can get in the water.” 

He pouts but stops tugging, letting you lather him in the sunscreen. 

“Once mama is finished me and you can go check out those waves!”  JJ holds his fist to Jackson, who returns with a fist bump. 

“Alright you’re finished!” You kiss him on the head and he takes off toward the water with JJ. JJ picks him up and wades into the water with him. Jackson laughing hysterically as the waves crash against them. 

“beer?” Kie asks, as you take a seat in the beach chair next to her. 

"Yes thank you,” you sigh, taking a sip, “I love that the beach is nearly empty-” 

Loud music catches you and the other Pogues attention, watching as a couple trucks and a jeep drive thru the sand behind you. You recognized Topper’s jeep and groaned. 

“Please keep driving..” Sarah pleads. 

“Anywhere but here.” Kie adds. 

“Of course.” John B says as they stop a little ways down the beach, “This entire beach and they pick that spot?” 

You take a sip of your beer, nearly choking on it as you see someone hop out of the dark blue truck. Rafe. 

“Shit.” Kie mumbles. 

He rounds the truck and opens the passenger side, another person gets out of the truck and it’s Sofia. 

Sarah places a gentle hand on your arm, “you gonna be ok?” 

You give her a reassuring smile and nod, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.” You gaze out at the ocean, JJ has noticed the kooks and he looks over at you, a look of concern on his face. You nod at him, letting him know you’re okay. He continues to play with Jackson, holding his hand as he stands with his toes in the sand, jumping over the waves as they break against the beach. 

“We’re both adults here. Maybe me more than him but it’s ok.” You glance between Sarah and Kie, “He’s living his best life - while I raise our son that he denies is his.” 

John B squeezes your shoulders, “And you’re doing a damn good job at it too.” 

The rest of the Pogues pipe in, “Hell ya you are,” “You’re killing it.” 

“Thanks you guys,” Your eyes dance between the Pogues, “I couldn’t have done it without you guys,” Your eyes grow teary, “Ok okay stop you guys are gonna make me cry,” You shake your hands out, wiping your face, “enough sappy talk. Let’s enjoy our beach day!” 

~ 

Rafe watches you and the Pogues playing with Jackson by the water, taking a sip of his beer. 

Sofia comes up beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist, “Her son is cute,” She says with a smile, looking up at him. 

He hums in response, not pulling his eyes from you and Jackson. He knew now, there was no denying Jackson. He looked just like him. Topper flat out asked the other day if Jackson was his. 

“He looks just like you man.” 

Rafe shrugged, “I don’t see it. He’s not mine though. She was screwing everyone on the island. There’s no telling who the father is.” He tried to keep up with the lie, but Topper wasn’t stupid. Topper knew you weren’t sleeping around, you’d never been like that. But he let him continue the lie, dropping the topic completely. 

“I bet our kids will be cute.” 

Now that caught his attention. He snaps his head toward her, “What?” 

Sofia smiles, “When we have kids, I bet they will be cute.” She’s in dreamland, wondering what life with Rafe Cameron would be like. Getting married, having a big house on the island, having kids etc etc. Little did she know, Rafe wasn’t planning a future with her. 

He nod and takes another sip of his beer, deciding not to say anything. 

“Jackson wait-” 

Rafe turns in time to see a ball rolling his way and Jackson chasing it. You weren’t too far behind. 

Rafe bends down and picks up the ball, staying at Jackson’s level as he approaches. Jackson is hesitant to take it. 

“Jackson, you can’t just run off-” 

Rafe feels like he’s staring at a mirror. Topper’s right, he looks just like him. The little boys eyes are innocent and he’s overcome with a feeling he can’t describe. He feels protective of the small boy in front of him, like a father would. A surge of love flowing through him. How could anyone leave this boy without a dad? How could he have abandoned his son? Something changed the moment he looked into Jackson’s eyes.

“Here you go, buddy,” Rafe holds the ball out to him with a smile. 

Jackson hesitantly takes it, looking up at you, with a small pout on his lips, “Sorry mama, my ball.” 

Rafe slowly stands, the two of you coming face to face for the first time since you told him you were pregnant. 

“It’s ok baby, you just can’t run off like that.” You run your fingers through his hair. You will yourself to meet Rafe’s eyes, “Sorry about that, we’ll get out of your way.” 

“It’s ok.” Rafe can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. Is it possible to be more beautiful? Motherhood treated you well and he’s overwhelmed with pride to know you did it all on your own because of his stupid decision. His stupid immature decision. 

Your eyes glance to Sofia, who steps up next to Rafe, pulling him from his trance, “your son.. he’s adorable.” 

You give her a small smile, “Thank you.” 

Rafe is mesmerized by you. He doesn’t know what’s over come him but the feelings that he buried deep inside have started bubbling to the surface. 

“Jackson, you know you’re not suppose to talk to strangers.” JJ takes a dig at Rafe as he approaches, scooping up Jackson in his arms. 

Rafe’s jaw clenches at JJ’s comment. Stranger. He’s no stranger. He’s his father- but he catches himself. JJ’s right. He truly is a stranger to him and he has no right to call himself his father. 

Jackson wraps his tiny arms around JJ’s neck, snuggling into his shoulder. That stirs some jealousy within Rafe. He should be the one hugging his son and playing ball with him on the beach. He should be the one there, the three of you as a family. 

“We better get back. Sorry for bothering you guys.” You apologized, following JJ back to the rest of the pogues. 

Rafe watches you walk away, his heart aching. He should have told you the truth. And he shouldn’t have lied all these years about Jackson. 

 ~ 

JJ holds Jackson with one arm and wraps his other around your shoulders, “you ok?” 

You nod, “I’m good. You shouldn’t have made the comment you did” 

JJ rolls his eyes, “it’s not like it wasn’t true. He’s a stranger.” 

You shrug, “I know but-“ 

“No buts. He’s a stranger to Jackson. Even if he shares DNA with him.” He snaps back. 

It was a touchy subject with JJ and you knew the conversation was over. JJ was protective over you and he held a huge grudge against Rafe for abandoning the two of you. Especially Jackson. He wanted Jackson to have a dad, something you and him didn’t have growing up. 

~ 

Rafe laid in bed that night with you and Jackson on his mind. He couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning the entire night. Sofia is sound asleep next to him. He squints, peering to check the time on the clock, 6:37 am. He sighs running a hand over his face before quietly getting out of bed and toward the shower. He wanted to see you again and talk. He needed to talk to you. 

“Rafe?” Sofia’s sleepy voice calls out to him, hands feeling his spot on the bed. 

Rafe comes to her side, showered and dressed, kisses her forehead. “Early meeting. Be back later.” 

She hums and turns back over, falling back asleep. 

~ 

He pulls up to the Maybank house a little while later. Glancing over in the passenger seat, coffee for you and him. He hopes you still liked your coffee with 2 creams and 2 sugars. He also picked up some muffins and donuts, unsure what Jackson would like. 

He was nervous, gripping the steering wheel. Maybe he shouldn’t do this. He can still turn around and go home. You don’t even know he’s here yet. 

He shakes his head, no there’s no talking him out of this. He needs to have this talk. He’s 2 years two late. Technically almost 3 years. 

Well shit there’s no turning around now cause here you come walking toward his truck. He takes a deep breath, now or never. 

He steps out of the truck, “morning.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” You ask tightening your robe around you, “it’s nearly 7:30 in the morning.” 

“Brought coffee and breakfast.” He says, reaching inside to grab the coffee and bag. “I was hoping we could talk?” 

“Now you want to talk? You’re a couple years too late Rafe.” You’re eyeing the coffee, yearning for your boost of caffeine. 

He sighs, “I know, I have no right to show up here unannounced either but, after seeing you guys yesterday I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He offers the coffee, “two cream and two sugar?” 

You nod, slowly reaching to take the coffee, “you still remember?” You ask, surprised. Even after all these years he remembered? You felt a soft tug on your heart. No y/n. You tell yourself, smooshing those feelings back down. It was not the time to go soft. 

He shrugs, also handing you the bag of muffins and donuts, “It’s not the hardest coffee order, but yes I still remember. There’s muffins and donuts in there, I wasn’t sure-” He scratches the back of his neck, growing uncomfortable, “I wasn’t sure what Jackson liked.” 

“He’s a fan of both. He pretty much will eat anything,” You turn and head for the porch, “Everyone is still asleep, let me put this inside and we can go to the dock.” 

Rafe nods and takes the time to check out what all you two have done with the place. It was different than when he was here last, new dock and boathouse, the landscaping had been cleaned up and the house actually looked livable. Jackson’s toys were strewed around the grass. 

“ready?” You ask, heading down toward the dock, Rafe following. You two take a seat on the bench at the end of the dock. 

“So, now that Jackson is older, people are starting to notice how much he looks just like you. You can’t keep up with whatever lie you’ve been spreading. Are you here to try and make me come up with an excuse for where his father is? So, you can go about your life?” You ask, bitterly. 

“No, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to step up and apologize. And explain my immature behavior.” He stands back up, pacing the dock in front of you. His nerves are getting the best of him. He had this speech all planned out but sitting in front of you, he’s forgot what to say. “I wasn’t in the right head space. And I for sure wasn’t ready to be a father. You saw what I was like. I was drinking, partying. Hell, I was even doing coke at that point.” 

You sit quietly, sipping your coffee as you listen to him. It wasn’t anything you didn't know, to tell you the truth. You also were doing all those things at the time, minus the coke, but as soon as you found out you were pregnant, you’d stepped up and knew all of that had to come to an end. You were going to be a mother. 

“I was doing the same things, Rafe. I don’t see that being an excuse. I stepped up when I needed to because I had too. It was something you needed to do as well, but you weren’t ready to give up that life yet. You weren’t ready to give up your lifestyle to become a father.” 

“I know. and that’s the truth, I didn’t want to give up my partying lifestyle for a kid. I was also scared what people would think of me, getting a girl from the cut pregnant. No one even knew we were dating-” 

“So you were ashamed of me? You’re really not doing yourself any favors right now-” You scoffed, standing, “I get it, Rafe. It would have been the worst thing for a kook to get a pogue pregnant. People would have judged you and never looked at you the same-” You turn to head back toward the house. “I’m so tired of this kook vs pogue bullshit.” 

“Baby-” He gently grabs your arm to stop you, letting the pet name slip, “I mean y/n- That’s not what I was trying to say. Fuck, this is not how I wanted this to go. Please, I’m trying to apologize. I was an immature kid back then and I’m here now to apologize, make things right and take responsibility.” 

“Rafe,” you sigh, “we’re doing fine right now. Without having you in our lives. We’ve made it work. It’s been 3 years, just let it go. I’ll keep on with the lie, you can continue to live your life how you want. Get married, have other kids. Whatever you want to do.” 

“I don’t want to do that, y/n. That’s what I’m here for. I want to be apart of Jackson’s life. A part of your life.” His hand has slipped down from your arm to your hand, his thumb subconsciously caressing your skin. “Please give me another chance. I’ve changed. I promise I’m not the man I was before. My dad has made me a manager at his company. I have a steady job, a house of my own. I’m not the immature teenager I was before.” His eyes are pleading for another chance to do the right thing.

You don’t know how to describe it as you stare into Rafe’s eyes, that they look the same as they did when you fell in love with him, but have a different softness to them. He’s genuine. But you don’t know if you can trust him. He broke you and you weren’t ready to open those doors again. You weren’t ready to open yourself back to him. You had Jackson to think about now and had to take his feeling into account. Could you trust Rafe? 

“What about Sofia? What does she think of all this?” You remove your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest. “She seems like a great girl.” 

“If I’m honest with you, I haven’t talked to her about it. Me and her aren’t serious.” 

“Maybe you should go home and talk things over with her. I can’t make a decision now. I need time to think it over.” 

His shoulders sag in defeat, but he ultimately nods, “Take all the time you need.. I’ll be here waiting.” 

~ 

Rafe left your house and immediately went to Tannyhill, hoping he could catch his dad before leaving for his meeting at 11. “Morning Rose,” He greets as he enters the kitchen, Rose is drinking coffee at the island, Wheezie next to her. He kisses Wheezie on the head, “Wheezie,” 

“Morning,” They say in unison. 

“Is Dad still here?” 

“In his office,” Rose nods, “He had a couple things to finish before the meeting.” 

“Thanks,” Rafe heads toward his office, knocking, “Dad?” 

“Come in,” Ward calls out, “Morning Rafe, you ready for the big meeting this morning?” 

“Ready. But I was hoping to talk to you about something.” He takes a seat across from Ward’s desk. Ward can tell there is something on his son’s mind and closes his laptop to give his full attention. 

“What’s going on?” 

Rafe takes a deep breath, clasping his hands together to stop them from shaking, “You know y/n Maybank?” 

“Yes-” Ward says, leaning forward a little, “What about her?” 

“Me and her dated a few years ago.”

“Mmhmm.” ward nods, “What about it?” 

Rafe takes another deep shaky breath. Ward begins to think about it, remembering she had a son. Who was about 3- 

“The boy- Jackson. He’s yours?” Ward asks in disbelief. 

Rafe gives a short nod, “I fucked up.” 

Ward slowly sits back in his chair, taking it all in. Old Ward would have blown up, told Rafe how stupid could he have been. “How long have you known?” He asks. 

“Since she told me she was pregnant.” He can’t help but get teary eyed, still on edge as he waits for his dad to blow up on him. “I told you I fucked up.” 

Ward mulls over this new and shocking information. “Why wouldn’t you say anything?” Ward asks. 

“I was terrified. Immature. I didn’t want to be a dad. I was partying all the time and wasn’t ready to give it up and be a dad.” He tells him honestly, “It was a shitty decision and I regret it.” 

“You should have took responsibility son.” He sighs, “But I know you weren’t in the right head space.” He stands and rounds his large desk, taking the seat next to his son, “Rehab changed you for the better.” 

Rafe nods, “I’m trying to fix things. I want to be in his life. I went to her this morning and we talked. She’s hesitant to give me a chance.” 

“She has every right to be hesitant.” Ward defends, you, “That’s her son.” 

“He’s mine too,” Rafe says, but sighs, “But you’re right. It is her son. I’ve given her no reason to trust me.” 

Ward nods, “Time will give her that. You’ve done the hardest part. Admitted you were wrong and apologized.” He squeezes Rafe’s shoulder, “It’s time for you to take responsibility.” 

Rafe nods in response, “I’m sorry dad. I should have told you the truth.” 

Ward agrees. He gives Rafe a small smile, “So I have a grandson, huh?” 

~ 

Rafe was in agony. It had been a week since he talked to you. You hadn’t tried reaching out yet and he was starting to get worried that you weren’t going to give him a second chance. He’d called it quits with Sofia, who didn’t take it easily, but she admitted she knew she’d seen a change in him after the beach day. And had admitted she’d wondered about Jackson. She saw the resemblance and the way Rafe had looked at you. He was still in love with you. 

You’d told the Pogues that morning over breakfast, JJ had flipped. 

“Like hell he deserves another chance!” 

“JJ, you don’t get to make the decision, I do.” 

JJ had left with a slam of the front door. He come back a couple hours later, calm and agreed. It wasn’t his place, but he still didn’t trust him. He didn’t want to see you hurt again. 

JJ had left with a slam of the front door. He come back a couple hours later, calm and agreed that it wasn’t his place, but he still didn’t trust him. He didn’t want to see you hurt again. 

~

Your heart is pounding against your chest as you take the stairs up to Rafe’s front door. You looked around the outside of the house. It was a nice, expensive house on the water. Two story on stilts as most houses near water are built. 

His truck was parked under the house so you knew he was home. 

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

Rafe was surprised to see you at his front door. It had been a week and he was beginning to wonder if you were even gonna make a decision. The longer it took the more he felt he wasn’t going to get his second chance. 

“Hey,” 

“Hey,” you point inside, “can I come in so we can talk?” 

“Yeah yeah of course.” He opens the door wider for you to enter, closing it behind you. 

The place was clean and sleek. It looked like a bachelor pad. 

“You want anything to drink? I’ve got water, juice, a beer..” he chuckles softly, motioning to the kitchen. 

You follow him into the kitchen, “Water is fine,” You lay your purse in the chair at the island. “I’m gonna be honest, I’m nervous.”

He fixes you a glass of water and you take a chance to look around the room. 

“no need to be nervous,”

You see in the corner of the living room there’s a small kids battery powered jeep and a couple other shopping bags around it. 

He sees you have noticed the stuff and slides the water to you, “my dad.. he uh he bought it for Jackson and Rose picked up a few things for him too.” 

“Thats’s very sweet of them. But wait, you told your dad?” You’re surprised and look to him, “I thought you hated him.. you guys didn’t have a great relationship.” 

“We patched things up after I got back from rehab.” 

“Rehab?” You ask shocked, “I didn’t know, when did you go to rehab?” 

He clears his throat, “few months after we broke up. Or I broke things off. Ward found me half dead on some laced coke I bought and when I woke up he made me go to rehab. Best decision I could have made.” 

“That’s awesome, Rafe. Im happy for you. I know having a better relationship with your dad was what you always talked about wanting.” You give him a soft smile. 

“Yeah yeah it’s good now.” He heads toward the back deck overlooking the water and you follow taking in the view but Rafe, he’s watching you, taking you in. 

You catch him watching you and can’t help but blush, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

Now he blushes, embarrassed he’d been caught, “sorry, we can sit here to talk.” He takes a seat on the couch and you take a seat on the other side. 

You take a deep breath, “I’ve done a lot of thinking over this.” 

He nods, hands clasped together he places his elbows on his thighs leaning closer, “yeah?” 

You look at him, “We’ll start out easy and slow. He’s not to know you’re his dad yet. I want him to be comfortable with you. He doesn’t truly understand the whole dad thing either, so I don’t want to confuse him. We call all hang out together first and then if I feel comfortable enough maybe you can take him on your own for a couple hours. I don’t trust you yet, Rafe. You broke that trust and I need time. But I believe everyone deserves a second chance. And I want Jackson to grow up with a dad who loves him. Something JJ and I didn’t have growing up.” 

He resists every muscle in his body not to hug you. “I can be that. I will be that.” 

He reaches over and you let him take your hand, “thank you for this.” He gives it a gentle squeeze, “you don’t know how much this chance means to me.”

~ 

A couple days later you and Jackson meet Rafe at his house, planning to spend the day there. Rafe had asked you a million questions about Jackson; his likes, dislikes, what toys he liked to play with, what he liked to do. He wanted to know as much as he could so he could be prepared for today. 

“Hey!” Rafe greets at the door, “What’s up little man?” 

Jackson’s shy at first and he peeks out from your shoulder at Rafe, muttering a quiet, “Hi.” 

“He’s a little shy. And he just woke up from a nap.” you follow Rafe inside and he helps to take the bag off your shoulders. 

“It’s all good. I understand.” He nervously wipes his hands on his shorts, “I got his favorite foods. The kitchen is stocked and-” 

“Toys!” Jackson gasps, wiggling out of your arms and immediately taking off toward the pile of toys. The jeep Ward bought him was there and a couple other new toys Rafe picked up.  

“Can I play?” Jackson asks, his eyes lighting up. 

“They’re yours! You can play with them all. After lunch we can take that jeep outside and you can ride around the yard.” Rafe says, taking a seat on the couch to watch him. 

“You didn’t have to get all these...” You sit next to Rafe. 

Rafe shrugs, “I know but he didn’t have anything here. I want him to be comfortable.” He slips off the couch and sits in the floor next to Jackson, helping him open the toys. Rafe teaches him how to play with a couple of them, showing him how they work. 

You couldn’t believe the change in Rafe. It was like a different man sitting in the floor. And the resemblance between the two was uncanny. Both had the same look of concentration on their face and you laughed softly to yourself after snapping a picture. Sarah had asked how it was going, so you sent her the picture. She was happy to know her brother was stepping up and also made a comment about their same look of concentration. 

As you stared at Rafe, a new feeling was starting to take form. A longing for something more and hope that maybe you could get your happy ever after and your dream of a family to become a reality.

Comments, likes, & reblogs are always greatly appreciated! I love to read your thoughts on it. 

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

all you've got (jj maybank)

Summary: You weren’t supposed to be the one Rafe wanted to make an example of. But standing between him and someone weaker? That’s just who you are. Now, you’re barely standing, barely breathing as you make your way back to the Château—bruised, bloody, and breaking.

JJ sees you first. JJ always sees you first.

"What did they do to you?"His voice is raw, breaking, shaking. His hands hover, torn between rage and gentleness. He wants to go after Rafe, wants to burn everything down, but instead—he stays. He kneels beside you, cleans you up, holds you together when you finally fall apart. based on this request

word count: 5692

trigger warnings: physical violence, bruises, blood, non-consensual restraint (barry holding the reader), trauma response, and emotional distress. Mentions of substance abuse (cocaine use, withdrawal), PTSD-like symptoms, and implied revenge plotting. Reader discretion is advised.

Just another hour and I’d be home, enjoying a Natty Light with the rest of the Pogues. Maybe if I was lucky, we could even take the boat out for a midnight cruise through the marsh. Who was I kidding? JJ would never say no to me, I think to myself as I punch in another drink order for one of the cackling Kooks. The country club was in full swing ahead of the dinner rush and as much as I could really use the money I would get from the wealthy patrons, I couldn’t wait for my shift to end. 

Sarah’s brother and ex-boyfriend had moseyed their way over to the bar, rowdy and loudly shouting about a stellar round of golf – barf. Oh Topper, you’ve bested me on the overly saturated green. Oh well, you know I do my best work on ground that could hydrate the Cut for weeks, Rafe. Ahaha, shall we get a round of caviar to celebrate? God, they made me sick. In an act of self-preservation though, I try to stick to my side of the restaurant, a blur of empty wine glasses and appetizers. 

Tension had been building between the guys ever since Sarah had started dating my brother. Being his twin, I wasn’t looking to get caught up in the drama just for having the same face. I’d nearly made it out alive, nearly finished with a perfect score. 

The sound of glass shattering caught my attention, head snapping up from my POS system. “Are you fucking serious? Do you know who I am?” The voice is menacing, rough. I catch sight of a wired Rafe Cameron with his fingertips wrapped around the collar of a young bus boy, shoving him up against the side panel of the tiki hut bar. The boy’s toes dragged against the pavement, nearly off the ground from the way Rafe held him. The boy looks terrified, feet kicking a little to get his footing. He’s stuttering, glancing around silently begging for life support.

My feet were moving before I could think it over, before I could second guess myself. Inserting yourself into the eldest Cameron’s fights? A death sentence in the making. But we Routledges really loved the thrill of danger. My sneakers squeeze against the wet patio, nearly slipping as I wedged myself between the two boys. Palms splay over the silky texture of Rafe’s golf polo, breaking his icy glare from the small boy. 

I drop my hands with wide intention, causing him to release the kid who plops down onto the ground and stumbles into my back. “You’re making a scene,” I grunt. The glass crunches under my feet and I make a mental note to be sure to change them out before leaving, not wanting to get shards of glass anywhere near the chateau. 

“Baby Routledge, look who's feeling brave today,” Rafe says, staring down at me. He snarls, a deadly look in his eyes as an aimlessly sick smile paints across his face. He takes a few heavy breaths, too shallow to help him calm down. He breathes out through clenched teeth, “Get out of my way.” 

“Walk away from this Rafe,” I shake my head, planting my feet firmly. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, I can feel the bus boy’s fingers tighten against the cheap grit of my uniform. 

“The little shit spilt a glass of Pinot on me,” he steps back a little to show off the red stain on his khakis. “He’s gonna have to pay up.” 

“Then speak to Jason, alright?” I say, nodding toward the door where I know my manager is inside, doing paperwork. “Don’t start a fight with a kid half your size in front of all these fine people.”

Rafe’s expression shifts, twisting in a way that makes a pit form in my gut. It’s like he’s discovered something you don’t know, like he’s first in line with the grim reaper – learning about what takes you out. It makes me nauseous. . And then I notice it. It’s subtle, the way he sniffs – rubs his nose. I can see the red in his eyes, the rapid nodding. He glances around, laughing a little to himself. Topper, to his right, looks unsure as he laughs along. 

Rafe steps forward suddenly, crowding my space as his nose nearly brushes mine. He smells like vodka and sweat, it turns my stomach. “Walk away,” he says, “now.” 

“He’s just a kid Rafe,” I say, unshakable as I square my shoulders. 

“You really wanna do this?” Rafe mutters. He’s close enough that I can see how blown his pupils are. His hands are shaky as they ball up in fists at his sides. He tilts his head, racking over my frame. I can see the way he sizes me up. Even in his presence, the livewire of the privileged Kook Prince – I don’t move. The tension is thick in the air, the world silent around us as everyone watches to see what Rafe does next. To see if I’ll fold. 

“Rafe, I think that’s enough,” Topper’s voice cuts through the tension. 

Rafe shoves the man away, holding his hands up as if he was disgusted that someone would put their hands on him. “You fuckin’ lowlife Pogues…I’ll get both your asses fired,” he smirks, raising a brow as if it’s a threat that scares me. Topper’s got a hand on his shoulder now, holding him in place momentarily until he steps back once, twice in what he thinks is a victory. 

I don’t know what it is; maybe the smug grin on his face, maybe the obnoxious wink he throws my way as if I’m the dirt beneath the giant ass golf course he’d just played a round of nine over. I shouldn’t pick a fight, I should take his backing off as a win. But the entitlement of threatening a job when he’s never even needed to know the worth of a dollar drives me up a mountain and down the other side. 

“That’s fine,” I say, nodding as I keep the bus boy behind me. “Go ahead. I’ll be sure to let Daddy know that your allowance is going into powder…it’s a little too warm for snow this time of the year, don’t you think?”

Topper looks over at me with a look of near horror and surprise, definitely not expecting that. The victorious smirk on Rafe’s face falls, his jaw clenching as his eyes narrow. “You’ll regret that, Baby Routledge…you and your brother, never learning who stays on top,” he threatens, wiping his nose instinctively as he turns, walking away.

“Thank you so much,” a small voice comes from behind me, releasing my shirt. 

“Shuddup,” I say, turning away from the bus boy. “Clean this up, before we both lose our jobs.” I get back to my POS, trying to ignore the tremble in my hands as I punch in the last of my orders. I end up staying two extra hours after Jason catches wind of the confrontation with Rafe, restocking shelves in the kitchen and cleaning all the glassware by hand before it goes out to the bar. I have just enough time to change out my sneakers for my old Birks, a hand-me-down from Kie when she got a new pair for her birthday.

I grab my bag and close my locker, jumping as my boss appears out of nowhere, a sour look plastered on his face. He normally wears a sour look, but this one looks a little extra sour. I’d already forfeited my heavy stack of ones to him, hoping that offering my tips to pay for the broken glassware would grant me some leniency.

“You can thank the Masons for keeping your job,” he spits. “They vouched for you on the way out. But another conflict with a paying customer and you’re out, do I make myself clear?” 

“It won’t happen again, I promise,” I say, shoulders deflated. We’re already struggling to keep the chateau as it is, the last thing I need is to lose my job. 

“See you Monday,” he says, crossing his arms and nodding to the door with a stern glare. 

“Thank you sir,” I say, leaving quickly before he can change his mind. It’s dark out as I start the long walk home. My calves are screaming from the time ducked under the counter collecting glasses, shoulders sore as my adrenaline wears off from the tension with Rafe earlier. Fuckin’ asshole. 

“Spilled Pinot on my 1,000th pair of khakis,” I say to myself mockingly as I cross the dimly lit street of shops on Figure 8. The lights are off, clearly having closed up early to enjoy the beautiful summer evening. Must be nice to afford to close shop early. It’s quiet along the streets and I tug my bag a little tighter over my shoulder, pulling my phone from my pocket and seeing the green lightning bolt on the screen. Dead…damnit. What I would give to see the Twinkie barreling toward me…or the buzz of JJ’s bike ripping up the road. I bet the bastards were already hammered right now, night fishing on the dock without a care in the world. Better have a cold beer waiting for me.

I can see the bridge in the distance, breathing a sigh of relief as the last leg of the walk is in reach. Headlights glare behind me, illuminating the sidewalk. The light washes over me, blinding me as it approaches. The engine revs a little as the tires slow, crawling behind me. I step further on the sidewalk, getting out of the way but no one passes. I can hear the gravel beneath the rubber. 

I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath when the light disappears. I only bother to turn around when the car door sounds open. I see his boat shoes before I see his tall frame, stepping in front of the hood of the suped up truck. Even in the dark, I can see the wild, frantic look in his eye. 

“Let’s not do this again Rafe,” I say, tugging my crochet bag higher over my shoulder. I look over his clothes, trying to defuse the situation before it gets ugly. I wave a hand in his direction. “I see you’ve got yourself a new pair of shorts so…crisis averted. Club soda and salt are great for getting out wine stains.”

“You were real brave back there,” Rafe says, ignoring the white flag I try to throw his way. He wipes his face, wipes his mouth and breathes out sharply. He steps forward toward me, pointing a sharp finger in my direction. “Thinking you’re so clever.”

I watch the way he starts to pass, the way his tongue fumbles over the words flying too fast out of his mouth. Nothing good comes from fighting with someone on a high and so in an act of self-preservation, I turn and try to head to the bridge to give myself some distance or home court advantage. But I hit something hard as my body turns, stumbling back. I feel the strap of my sandal pop from the momentum. 

I catch the glint of a gold tooth, glinting under the flickering lamp post. “Got some’ere to be pretty thin’?” Barry asks, tilting his head at me before glancing over my head. 

I close my eyes, sifting my brain for what JJ had taught me one late night on the beach after everyone had stumbled off to sleep under the stars. What was it? Closed fist…thumb tucked over fingers to avoid breaking it…or maybe it was under fingers? Fuck. Damnit JJ and his gorgeous ocean eyes, distracting me from knowing how to defend myself against coked up Kooks. 

My feet scuff against the pavement, ditching my lovely and fucked sandals in the hopes that my barefeet will help me escape the situation. It’s no use because Barry’s a brick wall, too wide for his own good and he only needs to step to the left a little faster than I would expect of him. His fingers imprint red into my shoulders with a vice grip, turning my struggling form to face a fuming Rafe. My back presses against his sweaty chest and I feel like I’m going to throw up. 

I try not to let the man see me sweat though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how helpless I feel. Rafe walks up to me, slowly like a lion circling its prey, like he’s playing with his food before going in for the kill. 

He stretches a hand out, grabbing my jaw with ringed fingers and squeezing so tightly that I’m sure that alone will bruise. “I told you to walk away,” he says, bending down so that he’s eye level with me. 

It’s not a smart move, considering the predicament and my helpless position of two on one. It’s not in my nature as I normally left the fights to my brother and his beautiful best friend but even the smallest creatures fight their way out of entrapment. The spit lands with perfect aim, sliding down his eyelid and settles in his lashes as it slides down his cheek in a glob. He jumps back in surprise and behind me, I can feel Barry shake a little in amusement. 

“Well, gotta give it to ya,” Barry mutters, “ya got balls, kid.” 

Words fall flat on my tongue as Rafe’s palm finds purchase on my cheek. He swings with a full moment, arm cocking back in a blind rage to slap me. The force is so hard that I worry my head could disconnect from my spine. It’s shocking that the gratitude for a drug dealer holding me up finds its way into my system ahead of the burning sting. My vision feels a little hazy as I shake my head, trying to collect my bearings. Rafe is shaking his hand, holding in front of him and hissing from the pain he’s in. Poor baby. 

When his eyes land on me, he waits with anticipation – clearly expecting me to…I don’t know. Break down? Sob out an apology for getting between him and justice over his Ralph Lauren. But the only thing coming out of my mouth is another glob of spit in his direction, this time mixed with the metallic from my tongue and cheek. I must have a death wish…or maybe in the process of trying to remember, I’d summoned the spirit of one Maybank boy. I don’t even recognize the sound of my own voice when I say, “That's all you got, you pussy?” 

Everything happens in slow motion after that as I’m ripped from Barry’s grasp. The momentum of tugging me toward him allows the first punch to land with a swift and purposeful crack against my cheekbone. Pain explodes, rattling my teeth. I question if I’ve gone deaf when Rafe’s shouts of fury  are replaced with a high pitched ringing. I don’t even register the sound of my screaming when my back hits the door handle of his truck, the back of my head knocking his mirror inwards toward the cab. 

“Rafe, enough dog,” Barry’s tugging the psychopath back in a rush, staring at me in horror as I crumble to the ground. My face feels warm and puffy, vision blurry as they stare down at me. I blink a few times and every time I try to understand what just happened, my chest tightens making it harder to breathe. Hands find my cheeks, calloused but softer. I flinch regardless, head tugging back so quickly in defense that I bounce it off the side of the truck leaving a dent in the door. 

“Get away from me,” I grunt, trying to stand. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Barry calls, letting me go as he raises his hands in defense. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t mean for–,”

“Barry, we gotta get outta here,” Rafe’s voice is sharp as he steps away from me further, putting more distance between himself and his handy work. 

And then, they’re gone. Leaving me, slumped against Rafe’s stupid truck, pulled over right before the bridge. My body aches when I finally force myself to stand, wanting nothing more than to get to the comfort of the Chateau and never leave again. My hand presses against the dent in the doorway to steady myself, rising up on shaky legs. 

I look down, noting the blood splatters on the rolled cuffs of my work shorts. A wave of dizzying nausea rolls over me, causing me to look up to the sky. I stumble on my feet, hands shaky as I try not to touch my face. 

I don’t know how long it takes me to walk the rest of the way home. It’s late enough that there are no cars on the road, no one to question my fragile state or the blood drying on my bottom lip. It’s a little hard to see out of one eye and I try not to think about how bad I must look when the christmas lights of the chateau appear in the distance. 

My feet seem to move on pure adrenaline, carrying me to the backyard – carrying me to the voices of my family. I can see the silhouette of Kie’s bun glowing from the bonfire, hearing the soft strum of the ukulele as she calls out to the boys for a beer. She seems to be the only person outside, looking up at the sound of twigs crunching beneath my feet. 

When we make eye contact, I try to ignore the way her soul leaves her body at the sight of me. “Oh my god,” she says. Her ukelele falls from her lap as she stands, crossing the yard toward me in concern.

The speed of her pace, sends me stumbling back a little – flinching out of reflex. The action takes her by surprise and then concern, gaze softening as she keeps a safe distance. She turns to the porch, clearly looking for the others. “Jjay, Pope–,” she shouts, causing me to flinch again at the loud noise. 

Worry melts into dread, noticing the way my arms are wrapped exhaustedly around my frame like I’m trying to hold myself together. “Oh my god,” she repeats, looking me over. Her eyes gloss over with tears, clearly trying to hold them in for my sake. 

My stomach drops at the sound of the screen door squealing, the coils screaming at the speed at which its opened. And when Kie turns again, Pope is walking over to see what all the commotion is. 

All I can see is JJ behind him, adjusting his red cap atop his head with a look of curiosity as he glances around his friends. I see the way his eyes focus on my face, see the way his whole body freezes up momentarily at the sight of me. I can’t imagine how bad it is, don’t want to imagine how bad I must look. Swollen, bruised, bleeding and barefoot – it must be bad because JJ is shoving Pope out of the way, nearly taking out a camping chair in the process of getting to my side as fast as humanly possible. 

“What the hell?” his voice is strained, panicked as he brushes past Kie. He enters my bubble without asking, hands reaching for me. He stops himself though, showing enough restraint that his hands hang – hovering. I see him swallow, eyes shifting over my face as if he’s trying to assess the damage and calculate where to touch me that won’t hurt. 

JJ’s no stranger to bodily damage. But it was a strange reversal of role for the two of us and the tremble in his hands was a reminder of that. I’d nursed him back to full health so many times over the years that I knew every inch of his scars, every terrible reminder of his reckless appetite for violence. He must swallow down his ignorance as he reaches out the rest of the way, fingertips dancing so tenderly over my jaw that if it weren’t for the bruising, I wouldn’t have felt it. 

I hate the pity in his eyes as I flinch from his touch. 

“What did they do to you?”  he says.

I step backwards, running from his warmth. It’s too gentle, too kind and the contrast from the hands that had last claimed my skin is too sudden. It makes me want to vomit. “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are,” JJ says, gasping out. “Who did this? Tell me who did this to you.” 

A silence falls over the yard as I look away from his pleading eyes. I’m not sure why I hold the culprit so close to the chest. It’s not that I want to protect Rafe, quite the opposite frankly. JJ Maybank had always been a knight in boardshorts, saving me from the smallest of disasters. Even though my brother had always staked his claim of best friend on JJ – the wild boy had made it clear that I’d always hold his heart in a way my brother simply wasn’t capable of. 

While he and John B would steal Playboy magazines from Luke in our pre-pubescent years, he’d also braid wildflowers from the field into my hair. When he and John B would get drunk on the beach after long, sunny days of surfing, he’d still lay with his head in my lap asking me to read him poetry from a new book I’d gotten. And when we were old enough to start going to parties, JJ still found a way to appear by my side the minute I was getting unwanted attention. Pope had once narrated a long and lengthy lecture while John B and JJ were a ways away, wrestling on the lawn, about how it had to do with JJ’s ventromedial prefrontal cortex. 

“It’s really that he recognizes how much you are a safe space and you calm his amygdala which triggers his–,”

“Pope, it’s love,” Kie groans, shaking her head at the boy. “He’s in love with you, god.” JJ had looked over in that moment, struggling in a headlock but still finding the ability to grin in my direction and send me a wink. I’d always hoped one of us had acted on it by this point, found the strength to bypass my brother’s cockblocking and heavy stares as he looked us over on nights where he felt we were too close, too handsy for his liking. 

I think that’s why I avoided giving up the information now as JJ demanded names. Even though he wasn’t entirely mine, I couldn’t lose him further. He’d kill Rafe without hesitation. He’d go to jail for trying. So I shake my head, lips tight as I refuse to let anything slip. His touch is cool against my cheek and I find myself leaning in, warming up to the gentle touch. JJ huffs, not in annoyance but in desperation. 

“Please,” he whispers, stepping closer and licking his bottom lip in desperation. I can feel his breath on my lips, lost and swimming in the ocean of his eyes. “Let me fix this.”

I press my lips together tightly, afraid I’ll spill on a pure technicality from distraction of how beautiful he is. But the action causes the dried blood to crack on my lip, splitting open. My cheeks flush in embarrassment as I feel a dribble of blood seep out and run along my skin. “Fuck,” I grunt, stepping away from lip to cover my mouth and whip gingerly at it. 

“C’mon,” he murmurs, collecting me into his side and helping me inside the house. It’s stifling inside, the AC in the living room broken. I’m annoyed at myself suddenly, remembering that my tips were meant to go toward replacing it. Pope rushes past us to the bathroom and I can hear him rummaging around for the first aid kit. JJ’s hands slide along my hips, lifting me with ease onto the counter. He cups my face again, moving it around slowly to examine the damage better in the light of the kitchen. He opens his mouth to say something else when the door squeaks open again. 

I can’t help but jump as the screen door slams against the frame, shaking slightly. I wanted to bury my face into JJ’s neck until I healed, hide from the world and never leave his side. Because there was only potentially one thing worse than JJ’s face when he saw me and that was my brother’s. 

Sarah sees me first, a loud gasp escaping her as she stops in the doorway. My neck starts to hurt again as my brother takes in how close JJ is, tucked between my legs with a hand on my face. It looks compromising. It is compromising and because of that, it takes a minute to register what’s happened. 

His face drops, fists clench. “Who?”

It’s silent for too long, only broken by Pope’s nearly cheerful “found it” and his footsteps trotting back into the kitchen. I turn away from my brother, only to be burned by the intensity of JJ’s gaze in front of me. The lack of escape feels less stifling, less suffocating this time. 

My voice is smaller than I want it to be when I finally say what they want to hear. “Ra–,” I have to clear my throat, his name dying on my tongue. I can see the veins in his arms, the blacks of his pupils, my blood on his forearm. “Rafe.” 

And the second it leaves my mouth, JJ’s hands go with it. He’s leaving my form, peeling himself off of me in a matter of seconds. His focus turns to my brother, matching looks of revenge and deep seeded hatred. “We’re going, right now,” JJ grunts, walking over to the kitchen table and reaching for something I can’t see. The click gives me a good idea, panic settling in my bones at the fear of losing either of them to a Kook…to Rafe. 

John B says nothing, only nodding stiffly and letting go of Sarah’s hand. 

My body hurts as I slide from the countertop, feet sore as they slap along the tile to follow after them. I muster up enough strength to duck beneath JJ’s arm, weave around Sarah and John B in the doorway just enough to block their way. “You can’t.”

The two look at me, conflicted as I hold myself up in the doorway. They breath out my name, glancing at each other. I can see the heat radiating from their pores, unable to stop the tension from settling into their muscles like an itch they have to scratch.

It’s John B who tries to persuade me but I can’t look at anyone but JJ who's looking anywhere but at me. He knows, we both know, that the minute he looks at me – it’s all over. That I can plead, beg with one semi-serious pout and he’s putty in my hands. That’s how I know how serious he is about using that gun, avoiding my gaze like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do on this Earth because he doesn’t want to be stopped. He wants to put his hands on someone, wants to make sure to make an example of the man who thought he could get away with hurting me. 

“Move,” JJ finally says, grinding his teeth. The word cuts through John B’s reasoning, stopping him in his tracks. 

I shake my head, refusing. “I–can’t,” I gasp out, hearing the thumping of my heartbeat in my ears as the panic spills over and hot tears start to stream down my face. My shoulders shake as I tuck my head, trying to control my breathing, trying to stay strong so that I can convince them not to leave me. The stress is too much and my legs give out, knees buckling underneath me. 

But JJ’s there to catch me, just like he always does. He safely brings me to the ground, scooping me into his arms as loud sobs wrack through me uncontrollably. The emotions, the pain all become too much and the dam breaks. He holds tightly onto me like he’s afraid that if he lets go, I’ll never recover and I can hear his soft cooes over my wailing as he murmurs “I got you, I’m right here.” 

I don’t know how long we sit there on the floor of the porch when JJ finally rises to his feet, causing my throat to tighten and a fresh wave of tears to come pouring out. “I’m right here Sweets, I’m not going to kill anyone tonight – I promise,” he says. “I just want to get you cleaned up.” 

JJ helps me to my room in the back of the chateau and pushes the door open. A chill passes through the doorway from the only working AC unit running overtime. He scoots me along to the bathroom, sitting me on the toilet seat and sitting along the tub to turn the water on. It's quiet as one of his hands rest on my thigh, circling patterns along the skin while the other dances under the faucet to check the temperature. 

When he’s satisfied, he stands for a moment with rosy cheeks. “I can give you some privacy while you –,” he nods to the tub. 

“Don’t leave,” I whisper, standing slowly. I turn a little to peel off my work uniform when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I’m horrified at the flash of myself, closing my eyes and squeezing them shut. My hands come up, covering my eyes and rubbing in an attempt to erase the image from my brain. “Oh my god.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” JJ’s hands slide over mine, pulling them away so that I don’t hurt myself. He towers over me, blocking my view to the mirror. “Don’t look, okay? Just…close your eyes, I’ll help.”

I nod, keeping my eyes tightly closed as I imagine his sweet face, caring eyes watching me for any signs of discomfort. My breath hitches a little as he undoes the button to my shorts, sliding them off my hips and helping me step out of both garments. His hands skim along the tender skin on my back, my shoulders as he unhooked my bra. My eyes flutter open, breathing in his gentle nature as he watches my face with intention. I feel like I can’t breathe in his presence. 

He helps me into the warm water before turning off the faucet, soaking in the comfortable silence of the moment as I let it soothe my aching body. Exhaustion overtakes me and I can’t help but relax a little, gaze heavy as I lean against the wall. “Hey, I know you’re exhausted – let’s just get you cleaned up and then get you to bed, okay?” 

I look up at him, realizing he’s not just saying he knows because he’s being a good friend or that he’s sympathetic to see me covered in blood and bruises as a result of a man’s wrath. JJ knows because JJ’s been me and the thought makes me want to cry again. I can’t do anything, don’t have the energy to do anything but watch as he kneels beside the tub, peeling off his boots and socks and rolls up the sleeves off his shirt before grabbing the wash cloth and dipping it in the water. 

He’s cautious as he cleans my face and my shoulders, careful as he wipes the blood from above my knees. The water turns a ting of murky red as he drags the soft cloth along each of my fingertips, using his own nail to gently scratch the remnants of my attack from my cuticles. 

The room is quiet while he works to bring me back to myself, bring me back to him. And each time I flinch, he stops and tells me a pointless fun fact about fish in the marsh. He waits until I smile before starting his work again. And when I sniffle, my nose scrunching in pain from a tender spot – he kisses at the spot until I can breathe again. There’s no words, they aren’t needed. Each drag of the washcloth, each brush of the lips is the most tender whisper of love I’ve ever experienced. 

When the dirty water goes cold and he’s satisfied with his work, he disappears only for a minute to get the biggest and fluffiest towel – Sarah’s – from the laundry machine. He instructs me to stand and wraps me in the warm, cozy towel to dry me off. He helps me pull on a pair of pajamas, his tee shirt and sweats, letting me steady myself against his shoulder while he pulls on a pair of warm socks. 

When we shuffle back into my cool room, I clutch his hand and stare wide-eyed as he pulls the blankets back so that I can crawl in. “Stay?” 

“I’m not going anywhere unless you give me the word,” JJ promises, pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

I nod, satisfied as I crawl into bed and slide over to make space for him. He peels off his clothes, down to his boxers and climbs in beside me. He flicks off the lamp, encasing us in darkness and turns to pull me against his chest. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he breathes, almost more to himself than to me. I nod, squeezing his hand.

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[ruewrote]

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: angst, fluff SONG INSPIRATION: work song by hozier WORD COUNT: 935

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the darkness pressed in around you. jj laid beneath you, his hair darkened with sweat and dirt, his lips parted as ragged breaths escaped him.

your hands trembled as they pressed against his stomach, warm blood seeping through your fingers.

“no, no, no,” you sobbed, shaking your head violently.

“stay with me, jay. please, stay with me.”

his hand reached up weakly, fingers brushing against your cheek in a light touch. his eyes, those fading eyes, locked onto yours, filled with something soft and heartbreaking.

“it’s okay, baby,” he whispered, his voice so faint you barely heard it over the pounding of your heart. 

“you’ll be okay.”

a shuddering breath left his lips. his hand slipped from your face.

and then–.

nothing.

your scream tore through the night as you jolted upright in bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly, soaked in sweat. tears streaked down your cheeks, your hands clutching the sheets so tightly they ached. 

the world was spinning, the nightmare’s grip still suffocating, as if you were still there. kneeling over him, helpless, watching the life drain from his eyes.

a sob broke past your lips, and before you could even register anything else, jj was there.

“hey–hey, baby, i’m here,” his voice thick with sleep but laced with urgency, his body moving before his mind could even catch up. the moment he heard your cries, he was wide awake, his hands reaching for you.

strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. his warmth surrounded you, grounding you in the present, but your body still shook uncontrollably, the weight of the nightmare pressing down on you.

you buried your face into him, your fingers grasping at his shirt as if making sure he was real. sobs wracked your frame, they were violent, desperate. “y-you were–” you choked on your words, unable to get them out between the hiccups and gasping breaths.

his heart clenched at the sheer terror in your voice. he shifted slightly, cradling you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head before resting his chin there.

“shhh, i’ve got you. i’ve got you, baby. i’m right here.” his voice was gentle, soothing, even as he felt his own chest tighten at your distress.

his hands moved in slow, comforting patterns. one tracing along your back, the other threading through your hair. the soft scrape of his fingertips against your scalp, the warmth of his touch, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, each sensation wove itself around you. slowly pulling you back to reality.

after what felt like forever, you finally managed to catch your breath, though tears still fell down your cheeks. your heart was still hammering wildly against your ribs, but the worst of the panic had begun to ebb away under his touch.

he leaned back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up with his fingers. the second your tear filled eyes met his, his heart cracked wide open.

“talk to me, baby,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “what happened?”

a shaky breath escaped you. your voice was barely above a whisper. “you died.”

he froze for a second, his breath hitching before he forced himself to push through the sharp pang in his chest. “what?”

“i–i saw it,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “you were bleeding out, and i was trying to stop it, but i couldn’t. you just kept–” a choked sob cut you off, he felt his stomach twist at the raw pain in your words.

“oh, baby,” he whispered, pulling you back into him. he rocked you slightly, as if trying to physically erase the memory from your mind. “i’m so sorry you had to see that. but i’m here, okay? i’m here. it wasn’t real.”

“but it felt real,” you admitted, voice breaking. “it felt so real, jay.”

he exhaled sharply, holding you impossibly closer. he hated this. hated seeing you like this, hated that you had felt that kind of loss, even if only in a dream. he knew how nightmares could linger like shadows, clawing at the edges of reality even after waking.

his hand moved up to cradle the back of your head, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “i swear to you, baby, i’m right here. you’re stuck with me.”

you let out a shaky laugh at that, even as another tear slipped free. he caught it with his thumb, wiping it away gently. “you scared the hell out of me,” you admitted.

jj let out a soft chuckle, though there was nothing amused about the way his heart ached for you. “not nearly as bad as you just scared me,” he murmured. “hearing you cry like that–” he stopped, exhaling through his nose, trying to shake the thought away. 

“i’m okay, baby. i’m right here.”

you nodded, even though a part of you still clung to the remnants of the nightmare. but jj was warm, solid, alive. he was here.

he shifted, leaning back against the pillows, taking you with him. his arms remained locked around you, his fingers resuming their slow strokes along your back. “try to sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered against your hair. “i’ll be right here when you wake up.”

you hesitated. “will you stay awake? just for a little bit?”

jj pressed another kiss to your forehead. “as long as you need me to, baby.”

and he did. even as your breathing evened out, even as your body finally relaxed against his, he stayed awake, keeping watch.

watching over you.

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© ruewrote 2025.

[ialreadymadeyouapromise]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: readers upset, no use of y/n GENRE: angst, fluff, comfort SONG INSPIRATION: my kind of woman - mac demarco WORD COUNT: 638 NOTE: been really sick recently so here's a short one!

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the party had been loud, chaotic even. the bass thumped through the floorboards of the chateau, the laughter echoed over the music. you had managed to push your way through the crowd, searching for a quieter escape.

the air outside was cooler, the sound of the waves more soothing than the pounding speakers inside.

you walked down to the beach, away from the festivities, the sand cool under your feet. you found a spot where the shoreline stretched wide and empty, a place where you could sit and breathe in the calm.

the sun was starting to set, it’s light reflecting off the sea in beautiful hues of pinks and oranges. you sat down in the sand, the warmth still lingering from the late afternoon, but the breeze was beginning to carry a chill.

you sipped on your beer, watching as the waves crashed against the shore.

jj wasn’t supposed to follow you.

he had been at the party, laughing and talking, taking in the atmosphere like always. but as the evening wore on, he began to notice you weren’t around.

at first, he thought you might be inside with the crowd, but when he glanced through the windows, you weren’t there.

then he spotted you, alone, by the water. it wasn’t unusual for you to be a little more reserved, but something about the way you sat there, the distance in your posture, made him pause. he excused himself from the group and quietly followed, footsteps soft against the sand.

“hey,” he said softly, coming up beside you.

you turned toward him, startled slightly. you hadn’t expected him to follow, let alone see you in the quiet, vulnerable state you were in. a smile bloomed on your face, though it trembled at the edges. “jj,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

he sat down beside you, leaving a space between you two at first, but the silence stretched, thick with unspoken words. he noticed how you were clinging tightly to your drink, how your gaze kept shifting between the ocean and the setting sun, almost as if you were trying to keep yourself grounded.

but then he saw it. a tear slipped down your cheek, unnoticed until the light caught it. his brow furrowed deeply, concern washing over him as he gently reached out, brushing the tear away with his thumb.

“hey,” he said quietly, his voice softer than before. “what’s wrong?”

you shook your head, swallowing back a sob. “it’s… nothing,” you whispered, but your voice cracked.

he wasn’t buying it. he had seen you like this before. this wasn’t just nothing. his arm slid around your shoulder again, pulling you closer. “don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “talk to me.”

you hesitated for a moment, tears welling up faster now. you wanted to be strong, but something about the way he looked at you, concern etched into every line of his face, broke through the walls you had built. “i don’t know,” you said quietly, your voice trembling.

“i guess everything just got a little much. and now… now i’m just here, and i feel…”

“alone?” he finished softly, brushing away another tear that escaped down your cheek. his touch was tender, comforting. a touch that spoke of trust, understanding, and care.

you nodded, finally resting your head against his shoulder. the steadiness of his presence anchored you, offering a sense of calm amidst the chaos in your mind.

“i’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice calm and steady. “always.”

the sound of the waves crashing around you, his steady heartbeat against your ear. these were the only things that mattered now. the party, the noise, the drama of life. 

it all seemed far away as you sat together in silence, comforted by the quiet, by his unwavering comfort.

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© ialreadymadeyouapromise 2025.