#oc : cleo

[astererer]

Cleo saw that mistletoe + Pecha standing underneath and with zero hesitation was like “oh hell yeah time to kiss the cutest girl in the room” ahaha

Doing my bit for @peachypede ‘s insert-your-OC-here meme ���

[confused-biscuit]

cleo is now real

[marinakaefer]

[OCs] Some more art of OCs I hadn’t drawn in a while :>

[hattersarts]

Viv & Cleo comic from last year. cleos the company nepo baby and viv's her boss who used to work with her dad

[pythosart]

Cleo, formerly a cyberpunk blades in the dark corpo assassin, now my current Elden Ring character

Prettied up sketchbook snippets. I always forget I can do this

[4milly]

deserving; sub!roman headcanon

we all need a small break. especially your man—the most dominate man you know. be his peace. his breath of fresh air…he deserves it. (overlaps when he was champion…i miss him *sigh*)

warnings: smut.

parings: sub!roman x black!reader

sub!roman appreciated the small moments of coming home to you; a hot meal, clean house, and a hot bath waiting for him. you’d clean him off and when he’d step out the bath, you were ready to give him a massage. he always vocalized his gratitude towards you taking care of him when he needed it most.

sub!roman wasn’t always shown. your man was a true dominate—a leader. you followed him and he adored it knowing you put your entire faith and trust into him. he worked so hard in WWE. carrying the titles for damn near 3 years was starting to show work on his body, and his mental. so moments like these were rare. times when he’d let you lead him for a change.

sub!roman was a natural at pinning your hips down and digging his dick into your pussy and filling you to the brim. stretching your pussy on his dick to accommodate him, to make you cum over and over as you’d thrashed around under him…but you wanted the same reaction from him too.

sub!roman craved those releases. such as you standing behind the giant circular bathtub in your shared home, his long and girthy dick in hand as you stroked him in a sensual motion. your hand barely being able to wrap around his dick in its entirety. his head thrown backwards on his shoulder as moans emitting from his chest kissed the celling, “you like that baby?,” you quietly asked in his ear “i love the sounds you make for me baby.” you could feel his hips swiftly thrusting upwards to pump his dick in your warm hand a little faster.

sub!roman knew you wanted to join him—the ache in your pussy becoming more prominent. the sounds he made was so sexy, it made your pussy wetter and clench with each sound. you wanted to take your other hand and work yourself towards your own release, but tonight was about him. he deserved it. “tell me when you’re cumming, mkay?”

sub!roman was desparate. he was about to blow all over your hand if you kept stroking him, making sure to squeeze his angry red mushroom tip when you neared the top. “you’re doing so good, baby. you like it when i tell you how good you’re doing?” his moans growing louder as he neared his release, his chest heaving. “i know baby, i know. you’re gonna cum for me, mkay? don’t hold back. let it all out baby.” you sucked on his neck and placed loving pecs on his shoulders, increasing the pace of your strokes. “aw, fuck baby. ahh, don—don’t stop baby, please,” his voice sounding a tortured rasp “i can’t stop—i won’t. i promise. not till you cum.”

sub!roman felt the room spinning. it was dizzying. addicting, even. his mind was clouded with only one goal. he felt he body shudder before letting his mouth open on a whimper. chills raced through your spine. your wetness drenching your boy shorts. seeing him like this set you off. needy for anything you’d give him. “you said you’d always give me what i want. cum for me, baby.” your name fell from his lips as a breathless chant. his body going ridged against you before violently shaking and flexing his abs. “y-y-ahh, fuck! i’m cumming, i’m cumming.” warm hot spurts pouring out from his dick onto the top of your fist. roman always came a lot; it creating a waterfall, dripping down the sides of your hand.

sub!roman couldn’t say a word. you continued stroking, wanting to milk every bit of stress out of him “you did so good. you feel better, baby?” his head was spinning. between fighting his tremors off, catching his breath, and your hand still stroking him created an overstimulation. he let out another small whimper as he felt his dick ache for another release. his dick never falling limp, “you wanna cum again? hm? you deserve it. you work so hard, ro.”

[shynmighty]

More Emmrook!

by me.

[littleplumptin]

Cleo

[insidekatmind]

THE TENSION- JONATHAN DEVISS

The tension was palpable on the set of Outer Banks.The soft lights of the evening scene where Pope and Cheryl had to confess their feelings added an almost tangible intimacy. You and Jonathan were on the couch in the living room of John B’s house, surrounded by the crew, with the director giving the last directions. The script called for a passionate kiss between the two characters, but there was an unspoken word between you and Jonathan that made everything more complicated.

You sat on him as the scene predicted. The tension in your body was evident, and Jonathan felt it. With your heart beating fast, you tried to focus only on the jokes.

"Cheryl," he began, with the trembling and emotional voice that Pope would have, "I can’t pretend anymore. Every time I see you, everything else disappears."

You were playing your part, trying to keep it professional: "Pope, we can’t. You and I... we’re too different. But... damn, I can’t stop thinking about you."

The director shouted: "Perfect! Now kiss!"

Jonathan approached slowly, his intense gaze met yours. The moment seemed suspended in time. When his lips touched yours, the chemistry exploded. It was a recited kiss, but it felt all too real. You felt Jonathan’s hands, which were initially laid carefully on your hips, slowly descend towards your butt. It was a subtle gesture, imperceptible to anyone not in your position, but you felt it clearly.

Jonathan’s eyes were still closed when he drew you closer, increasing the intimacy of the moment. It wasn’t in the script, and your heart sped up. You tried to keep calm, even though his warm breath against your neck made you lose the thread.

"Cut!" said the director, satisfied. "Excellent chemistry, you two. Perfect. Let’s take five minutes and then we’ll resume!"

As the troupe dispersed, you were still above him, his breath still irregular. You looked into his eyes, looking for an explanation, but Jonathan seemed almost pleased, his smile was a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction.

"Jonathan," you whisper, trying not to attract attention, "what are you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow, keeping the tone light but with a hint of seriousness: "I was... getting into the part. You know, Pope is in love with Cheryl. We have to make it real, right?"

His hand was still on your side, and he made no attempt to push it away. "Jonathan, are you sure that was just acting?"

He approached slightly, his face a few inches from yours. "And you, y/n, are you sure it was just acting?"

His intense gaze made you shiver. The moment was far too intimate, but before I could answer, someone from the crew came over, breaking the tension.

"Jonathan, you need makeup. five minutes and we’re back on set!"

You quickly came down from her womb, your face on fire. He stood up, arranging his clothes distractedly, but not before giving you one last provocative look. " We’ll talk about it later," she whispered, enough to make you blush even more.

The scene was over, but you and Jonathan seemed to be just getting started.

[palettepainter]

Behold, a Rise OC, she and Raph are both disasters for each other

I made this lil comic ages ago and had the inspiration to clean it up and colour it! Still workshopping my OC's ref sheet since I'm still workshopping her outfit but of course I ship them with Raph, this sweetheart deserves everything good in the world

The OC's name is Cleo. She's a yokai that ran away from the Hidden City and meets Raph on the surface one day. They have workout dates together and Cleo is very much not chill at how patient and understanding Raph is

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 1

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family's restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn't see coming--one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn't sure they'll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Author's Note: I forgot how much I absolutely loathe writing summaries LOL but anyways! First chapter is here, let me know if y'all vibe with it. I had fun writing it and if you wanna see more, let me know! (And now I have to figure out if I remember linking everything on my blog since I haven't posted my writing on Tumblr in forever. . .)

Chapter 1

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

Isla Carrera’s pleading is in vain as the engine of her car sputters out of life, and there’s just enough juice left for her to pull over onto the side of the dirt road so she’s not stranded in the middle. Her grip on the steering wheel remains tight as she sits in silence, staring out onto the dark road only lit up by the two beams of her headlights. The small silver lining, if there is one, is that she knows exactly where she is, just a little ways away from a row of houses on Figure Eight. But right now, she’s surrounded by trees on a road that has no street lamps, the sky a blanket of black above her. 

Her groan cuts through the silence, eyes squeezing shut as she rests her forehead against the steering wheel. She should have just slept over at John B’s house like her sister, Kie, decided to. But Isla’s covering another waitress at the restaurant early tomorrow, and she didn’t want to run late again or else her parents would rip her a new one. Kie’s shift wasn’t until later in the afternoon, so her sister was in no rush to get home. Now here Isla is, with a car that won’t turn over, still a fifteen minute drive away from her house.

“Fucking great,” she mutters, making sure her hazards are on and her phone is in her pocket before getting out of the car. 

Though she knows nothing about cars, Isla pops open the hood and uses the flashlight on her phone. If she’s being honest, it all looks like a bunch of mechanical junk she has no idea how to work her way around. She’s not sure why she even bothers, so instead of wasting time, she unlocks her phone to find the number for a towing service.

A rumble of a car engine catches her attention, the kind that makes an annoying popping sound, and by the time she looks up and around the open top of her hood, she sees two guys hopping out of an old Ford truck. She vaguely recognizes them. Just by the look of them, they seem to be a couple of years older than her—and clearly from The Cut. Not that it matters, since her best friends are from the other side of the island, but not all of the people from The Cut are fond of those from Figure Eight, and vice versa. Isla and her sister, though they belong on the more privileged side of the island, prefer the freedom of The Cut. 

None of that exactly matters right now, though.

Music cranks out of the car, but Isla can’t pay it any mind as unease creeps into her stomach when both sets of eyes land on her. 

She’s a girl alone in the middle of a road at night, so Isla is immediately on high alert as the guys make their way towards her, slow but confident in a way that makes her feel like a prey. I don’t like this. 

Alarm bells are ringing in her head as one of the guys in cargo shorts and a tank top shoots her a slimy grin. “Car trouble, sweetheart?”

Isla’s muscles tense. Yeah, nope. Not good. “Uh, no, all good,” she says, forcing some of that confidence into her voice that Kie is an expert at wielding. 

The other one with darker hair hidden under a baseball cap asks, “You sure we can’t help?” His grin is anything but charming. “We’d be more than happy to help.”

They don’t stop their approach, and Isla’s mind begins running through different scenarios, her pulse beginning to quicken in panic she’s trying to keep at bay. There’s no one around to help, and she can’t depend on another car passing by and stopping to help—if they even would. She doesn’t want to lock herself in her car while she calls her dad or friends for help; the idea of sitting trapped makes her heart squeeze with dread.

“You can stop right there.” She doesn’t want to give into the fear that’s slithering through her veins, but she can’t stop the words from escaping her mouth, the crunch of the dirt beneath their shoes too daunting to ignore. 

Her hand inches towards her back pocket where she had stashed her keys, fingers closing around the small can of pepper spray she’s got hooked in there. Isla has never had the unfortunate opportunity to use it before, but the vibes she’s getting right now—first time for everything. 

“What’s the matter?” the first guy asks with a taunting tilt of his head, neither of them stopping their pace. “We’re only here to help.”

Yeah, fucking right. “Stop.” Her heart is pounding in her ears, taking a few steps back.

Creepy guy number two exchanges a look with number one. “See that, Dyl? Little Miss Kook looks a little scared.”

Oh, screw this. Isla refuses to stick around and find out what’s going to happen, and she doesn’t at all feel guilty when she juts her hand forward and presses down on the top of the small can. Her aim is a little off, so she only manages to spray the first guy—Dyl. The sound of his shriek of pain cuts through the air, and he stumbles back and spits out curses as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

The second guy freezes in surprise, looking between Isla and his friend, but she doesn’t stick around to see what he’s going to do next. Instead, Isla turns and makes a run for it, making sure to press the button on her FOB to lock her car as she bolts down the dirt road. She can hear the guys yelling over the sound of the breeze rushing past her ears, fear fueling more power to her legs as she nears a neighborhood street at the end of the dirt road. Isla isn’t sure if they’re following her, or if they’re even going to, but she doesn’t pause to find out. 

She runs and runs, her lungs beginning to burn, as she rounds a stone wall with greenery growing through the cracks that closes in a property—only for her vision to go black for a split second when she collides against something.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Scratch that—make that someone, because instead of falling back on her ass, a strong pair of arms wrap around her waist to keep her from tumbling down. The grip is tight and secure, and a delicious aroma of what seems to be earthy wood tickles her nose. “What the hell are you—Isla?”

The sound of her name being spoken in that all too familiar voice clears Isla’s head, and she pulls back enough to look up into the startling blue eyes of Rafe Cameron. Her pounding heart seems to slow down a fraction, and she’s not sure what to make of the mild relief that calms down her frazzled nerves because this is Rafe Cameron. Sure, he might not be as bad as those two freaks, and he’s one of her close friends’ brothers, but he’s still the same guy that has gotten into more than a few fights with her best friends. That being said, she shouldn’t find as much comfort as she does being in front of him. 

Her breathing is heavy, pulse throbbing uncontrollably. She only barely registers her hands gripping his forearms, like it’s grounding her as she takes in Rafe’s expression. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks down at her, his height towering over her five-foot five frame, and there’s more confusion than worry in his features, unsurprisingly. Her heavy breathy makes her privy to the scent of nicotine, glancing down to see a half used cigarette now laying forgotten on the ground. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe repeats. Isla hears the familiar thread of annoyance in his voice, but she can’t bring herself to give a damn. 

She lets go of him like he’s electrocuted her, taking a step back and forcing him to let go of her, too. It takes everything in her not to acknowledge the way her skin burns where his had touched hers. “Going for a run, what does it look like?” she snaps back, though her voice trembles on her breath. 

Rafe’s expression deadpans, though he arches an eyebrow under the dirty blonde bangs that frame his forehead. “Looks like you’re scared,” he states. 

“I—” Isla gets cut off by the familiar sound of a car engine rumbling, the popping kind, and the breath locks in her throat as she glances over her shoulder. “Fuck,” she breathlessly mutters, catching sight of the headlights creeping up from around the corner on the road. She’s not sure if those guys are looking for her—though, she wouldn’t be surprised given that she pepper sprayed one of them, and her pulse quickens again in panic with the need to hide away.

“Wait—are you running from someone?” Rafe questions, and Isla looks back at him to see his gaze pointed over her head, right where the noise of the car is coming from. A car that sounds to be approaching too close.

“You’re asking too many questions,” Isla returns hastily, stepping to go around him. “I need to go—”

Rafe lets out an exasperated huff, and if she had all her wits about her, she’d snap at him. But instead, surprise slams through her when Rafe’s hand wraps around her bicep, his grip firm but not tight as he mutters, “Come here.”

Before Isla knows it, she’s being dragged through the gate of the Cameron estate, disappearing onto the property right when the car turns the corner. Her heart launches to her throat when Rafe suddenly turns her, and she’s being pressed against the stone wall, soft leaves pressing to her back in contrast to the hard surface.

Isla’s eyes widen when Rafe’s body presses against her, the air rushing out of her lungs as her gaze snaps up to meet his. “What are you doing?” she asks, her words a mere breath.

He seems surprised by his own actions, lips pursed and that muscle in his clean shaven jaw pulsing almost as quickly as her own heart. Can he hear the thundering, feel it? “Just—stay quiet,” Rafe grits.

Part of Isla wants to push him off—the part that sounds a lot like her friends. But fear wins out, keeping her in place, as she hears the car creep along in front of the gate of the Cameron property. 

Rafe’s eyes silently tell her to remain quiet and something tightens her stomach—something other than fear—and it startles her enough to flick her gaze to the left, towards the vine wrapped gate. She can see the headlights slowly passing by, and she prays that these guys aren’t stupid enough to trespass private property.

Then again, they were ready to do God-knows-what to her, so who the hell knows?

The thought alone sends her heartbeat accelerating all over again, panic settling in her bones hard enough to rattle them. Isla’s hands fist at her sides, eyes squeezing shut as she leans her head back against the wall. How the hell had her night taken such a freaky turn? And how is it that Rafe Cameron, of all people, is the one to help her out?

Suddenly, the mid-May night doesn’t feel as warm as Rafe’s body; he isn’t close enough where his body is completely pressing into hers, but she can feel the soft material of his shirt fluttering against the bare skin of her stomach, thanks to her crop top. Isla can feel the heat of his skin seeping into hers, which makes her heart thunder with something other than panic, and she’s not entirely sure what the hell to do with that.

“Relax—they’re gone.”

His voice is low and gruff, a tone that makes goosebumps pebble her skin even in this warm weather. Isla opens her eyes with a sharp exhale and her brown eyes immediately find Rafe’s blue, her throat tightening under his scrutinizing gaze. True, she can’t hear the engine anymore, the headlights are also gone, and Isla tries to even out her breathing while nodding slowly. 

Rafe’s eyes rake over her and shouldn’t she feel unsettled about that? About how close he’s standing to her? But it seems like all of her unease has been used up from evading those weirdos, so Rafe Cameron being her rescuer doesn’t annoy her as much as it normally would. 

“So what was that about?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

Isla’s throat works, dragging her gaze back up at him. The lamps spaced out along the wall light his face, casting shadows along his sharp cheekbones. He’s so handsome—the thought crosses through her mind quickly, and though she would never admit it to her friends, she can’t help but find the truth in it—as insane as it might be.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Isla finds herself saying, lifting her chin in a small act of defiance.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitches into a ghost of a smirk, and through the light reflecting in his eyes, she can see them dancing in amusement. “Given that I just saved your ass, an explanation would be nice.”

Isla scowls, all thoughts of his stupidly good looks vanishing. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I had it under control.”

It’s a lie spoken through her teeth, and Rafe can see that. “Yeah, looked real under control when you were running for your life,” he replies dryly, eyebrows rising. But then his expression flattens out, eyebrows furrowing together once again as he says, “Seriously, Isla. What gives? What the hell was that about?”

“Just—some fucking weirdos, I don’t know,” she huffs, frustration from this entire ordeal bubbling to the surface as she rubs her hands up her face and runs her fingers through her hair. “I—Can you back up?” she asks hastily, forcing a glare. Rafe, surprisingly, simply presses his lips together and raises his hands in defense while taking a couple of steps away from her. Isla is no longer embraced by his warmth, by his scent, and there’s an unexpected tug in her chest that she ignores. “My car broke down on that dirt path behind the road. I was trying to figure it out when these guys pulled up and, I don’t know, shit got weird so I made a break for it.”

Rafe frowns as he listens to her, and Isla shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “I need to get back to my car,” she says.

“Seriously?” Rafe asks, scoffing. “You’re gonna go back when some freaks are looking for you?”

Isla glares at him, not at all appreciating him talking to her like she’s stupid. “My wallet’s still in my car. I need to grab it if they haven’t fucking broken into my car already.”

She moves past him to head to the gate, surprised to hear his footsteps as he easily catches up to her. “What, you’re gonna walk back?” When Isla glances at Rafe, he’s looking at her like she’s insane. No sign of the contempt he normally saves for her and her friends, which is slightly unnerving. “After you were just running from some freaks? You do realize how much of a bad idea that is, right?”

She shrugs even as the unease from before returns at the idea of running into those guys again. “I need to get my wallet,” is her meek response.

Rafe lets out a breath, running his fingers through his hair and Isla briefly frowns at herself at the way her gaze seems to run to the flex of his bicep. And the way her stomach fucking flutters because this is Rafe Cameron. The only fluttering her stomach should be doing where he’s concerned is one tinged with nausea.

Rafe then fixes her with a stern look. “Come on,” he says firmly before walking down the driveway of his house.

Isla blinks out of whatever stupor she was in and glares at his back—and at the demand he left her with. She scoffs, hands splaying in annoyance until she realizes he’s headed straight for his motorcycle. Her shoulders drop, rooted on the spot as she says flatly, “You’re joking.”

Rafe is already pulling out a helmet—scratch that, two helmets—and looking at her, once again, like she’s an idiot while she glares at him. At least there’s that bit of normalcy. “This—” He holds up both helmets in each hand. “Is better than you walking back to your car by yourself. Let’s go.”

Isla’s disbelief only intensifies. She doesn’t walk over to him, doesn’t take the proffered helmet. Instead, she exhales sharply and crosses her arms over her chest, asking, “Why are you helping me?”

Rafe has the gall to look annoyed by her question, arms resting at his sides. His gaze locks with Isla’s, but she doesn’t shy away from it as he eventually drops his head back with a groan before looking back at her once more. “Listen, contrary to your and your friends’ popular belief, I’m not a complete dick.” Isla can’t help but scoff and roll her eyes, cutting her gaze away from him in doubt. He cannot be serious. “I wouldn’t want either of my sisters to be fucking chased by some losers, so just think of this as my good deed of the month, alright? Now will you please take the damn helmet and get on the bike?”

Frankly, Isla feels like she’s just stepped into an alternate reality because, seriously, when was the last time Rafe Cameron ever did anything nice for her—if ever?

But as much as Isla’s pride is begging for her to tell him thanks but no thanks and turn and walk back to her car, fear still resides in the pit of her belly, waiting to strike. She hates to admit it, but Rafe is right. It’d be dumb of her to walk back alone at night after what just happened. Maybe she could call her sister or one of her friends, but that would just add unnecessary time to all this, and Isla just really wants to get home. So, fine; maybe she can accept Rafe’s offer to drive her to her car, and then from there maybe she can call an Uber home and call a tow truck from the safety of her bedroom.

Rafe holds out one of the black helmets in impatience, and Isla purses her lips as she pushes herself to walk over. She does her best not to admire the sight of him next to his bike, something she never would have done before tonight. Maybe this whole freaky situation has loosened some screws in her brain.

Isla all but snatches the helmet out of his hand, though a part of her feels as though it’s just for appearances’ sake to keep up her usual attitude around Rafe, and tucks her dark hair behind her ears before pulling the helmet on, the visor still up. She tries her best not to think of the weight of his gaze on her as she fiddles with the straps on her chin to secure the helmet, but she’s unable to get it right, fingers trembling despite herself.

“I got it,” Rafe says, and Isla freezes when he gently bats her hands away and steps up to her, using his finger to push at the bottom of the helmet so she can tilt her head back enough for him to see the straps. The heat of his body greets her once more and she’s silent as she feels him secure the straps, breath hitching quietly when the backs of his fingers brush against her skin. 

He’s done within seconds, but it sure as shit feels longer as she remains standing there, watching him pull on his own helmet. Isla watches silently as Rafe gets on the bike, wondering how she got here, and he says, “Hop on.”

Isla has ridden on the back of JJ’s bike plenty of times, so she gets on with no trouble, though she does have to grip Rafe’s shoulders in order to do so. They’re broad and firm under her hands, and she mentally chastises herself for even thinking about his stupid shoulders. When she’s settled behind him, her legs framing his, Isla’s heartbeat picks up at the sudden proximity, her front against his back. 

She’s sure she’s barely breathing when her skin warms because there’s barely any space that exists between them, and when Rafe tells her, “Hold on or risk flying off,” she can’t decide if she wants to smack him upside the head or beg for the ground to swallow her whole.

Sliding the visor down, Isla inhales deeply and quietly before winding her arms around Rafe’s waist, teeth gritting together because if her friends saw her now, they definitely would believe she’s lost her mind. The fact of the matter is, right now all she can seem to focus on is the solidness of his stomach against her arms and how fucking good he smells, which is confusing and overwhelming and everything in between.

The motorcycle’s engine roars to life, and seconds later Rafe is kicking off the kick-stand and they’re riding down the driveway and onto the road. She had told him her car stopped on the dirt path behind the actual road, separated by trees, and that’s all Rafe seemingly needs to know as he takes them in the right direction. The breeze as they go feels good against her, cooling her heated skin down and she would never admit it, but riding on the back of Rafe Cameron’s bike has a somewhat calming effect on her.

The tension that had tightened her muscles since her encounter with those other guys melts away, and the rapid thumping of her heart has nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the thrill of this moment. Maybe it’s ill advised, but it seems to be exactly what she needs as the night air mixes with Rafe’s cologne—or maybe he just smells like that in general?

God, she’s getting too weird about this.

Soon enough, her car comes into view and Isla is relieved when there seems to be no sign of those guys. Rafe stops the bike right next to her car, and another sigh of relief escapes her when she sees that her car doesn’t look damaged. Swinging her leg over, she uses Rafe’s shoulders as leverage to get off the bike, trying not to think too much about the loss of his body heat as she reaches for the helmet straps. 

They’re easier to undo than they were to strap, and she lifts the helmet off, one hand already flattening her dark hair as Rafe holds his hand out for the helmet. As she unlocks the car, Rafe asks, “How’d you manage to outrun them?”

Isla leans into the driver’s seat, reaching for her tote bag in the passenger seat. She digs through it for a moment, taking stock of her wallet, lip gloss, lip balm, and the few other things still safely inside. “I pepper-sprayed one of them,” she answers as she pulls out and straightens. 

When she turns to look at Rafe, whose helmet’s visor is up, she sees the smirk that curls at his mouth. How does a sight that made her want to knee him in the stomach before make her feel kind of weak kneed right now? Did those guys really freak her out so much that now down is up and left is right? “Nice,” he murmurs, nodding in approval. Jutting his chin towards her car, he asks, “You gonna call a truck?”

Isla shakes her head. “When I get home,” she says, pulling out her phone. 

Rafe nods as he holds the helmet out once more. “Alright, let’s go.”

Isla pauses, gaze flicking up from her phone screen where the Uber app is open to look at him. Arching an eyebrow, she asks, “Uh, go where?”

He mirrors the arched eyebrow look. “I’ll take you home,” he says as if it’s obvious when it very much isn’t.

“No thanks. I can Uber,” she answers, already putting her home address in.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he remains sitting on his bike. “You’re just full of bad ideas tonight, aren’t you?” he says. Isla’s eyes narrow, irritation sparking through her as he splays his arms out to gesture to the road they’re on. “You’re really gonna wait out here on a dirt road, with no street lamps, in the dark for an Uber when I’m offering you a ride home right now?” Before she can respond, he carries on, “On the same stretch of road, mind you, that you just got harassed on?”

The irritation intensifies, and Isla’s expression twists into a glare as she snaps, “What’s it to you, huh? You already did your good deed of the month. We’re not friends, Rafe. I don’t need your help.”

Even with the helmet on, she can tell he’s clenching his jaw, eyes hard as he sets them on her. The look makes her chest burn in a way that’s not all unwelcome, and that alone should be a sign that she’s losing it. “We may not be friends, but you’re my sister’s friend, alright? Sarah would kill me if she found out I left you out here by yourself. So stop being so fucking stubborn and get on the damn bike, Isla. I’m taking you home.”

She presses her tongue to her cheek, shoulders bunched in frustration while Rafe glares at her, his own impatience radiating off of him in waves. Sarah has told Isla how stubborn her brother can be, and while Isla doesn’t know Rafe well, she knows him and has dealt with him enough to know he isn’t budging on this. So, with a huff, she snatches the helmet once more, ignoring the protests in her head that sound suspiciously a lot like her friends as she pulls the helmet on. 

She manages to get the straps this time and gets back on the bike, her bag securely hanging off her shoulder as Rafe starts the bike again and Isla swallows silently as she wraps her arms around his waist once more. Every part of her is warm where it touches him, and as he drives, she tilts her head back, practically begging for anyone listening to get her to calm the hell down.

Seriously—how the hell did Rafe Cameron become her would-be hero of tonight?

Luckily, her house is a ten minute drive from the Cameron house and Isla allows him to pull up to the front of the house, since Kie isn’t home and has no chance of peeking out her bedroom window and seeing Isla getting off Rafe’s bike. He parks the bike and Isla lets go of him almost immediately, hopping off the bike and undoing the straps of the helmet under her chin.

Rafe is already looking at her by the time she gets the helmet off, his blue eyes visible since the visor is lifted. With a close mouthed, saccharine smile, Isla all but shoves the helmet into his hands. “Thanks for the ride. Let’s never do this again.”

He scoffs as he shakes his head, but the smirk on his face is apparent. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Isla rolls her eyes and, without another word, turns towards her house. She’s on the front porch and fishing keys out when she glances to the right and sees Rafe still parked there, seemingly watching her. Her stomach does a stupid, weird flip as she unlocks the door and shoos him. “Go away,” she hisses, even though Kiara isn’t home and her parents wouldn’t care that Rafe dropped her off—hell, her mom would be thrilled, honestly.

Even from this distance, she can just picture Rafe’s arrogant smirk as he lifts a hand in a two fingered salute before revving the engine of his bike, and Isla clenches her jaw as he speeds off, the roar echoing down the block. Exhaling sharply, Isla shakes her head and walks into her house, shutting the door behind her just as she hears footsteps approaching her.

“Where have you been?” her mom asks, not demanding but more concerned.

Isla smiles sheepishly as she faces her mother. “Yeah, about that. . .”

[grogart]

My brain is a metronome that swings from Bikini Mode to Sweater Mode Today is a Sweater Mode day

[paulsram]

Clone high pilled recently

[jazziejax]

The Kildare County Surf Shop!

“Pope, wha-what was the line again?” John B, stuttered, awkwardly looking at the pair behind the camera. A sigh could be heard out of frame, Andy putting her face into her hand after watching her friend struggle for the hundredth time.

“Look, into the camera lens.” Pope said firmly, tried of his long time friend as well.

“Ok.”

“Don’t look at me, look at the camera.”

“Okay, sorry.” The dirty blonde as sheepishly before clearing his throat. The video then cut, completely starting over.

“Hey, OBX.” John B said, still as awkward as the first few times. “We’re the..new surf shop in town and we’re here to bring you a good time—” He trailed off before off before the camera zoomed out to show the porch of the shop.

“All the time!” Kiara, Sarah, Twitch and AJ, all popped out from around the corner of the open double doors. AJ immediately dropped her arms, giving the back of John B’s head a cold look.

“We’re supposed to be in sync, guys. It’s not that hard.” She complained with a slight shake of her head as she placed her hands on her hips.

“This is stupid!” Cleo whined from her place on the steps with French Fry and Porky, already tried of the constant filming and retakes of the commercial. Gavin pointed over at her from where he stood behind the shark that JJ had his head stuck in. “I’m with her.” He said.

“Cut!” Andy groaned, the video cutting to another clip.

“Kildare County Surf Shop!” Pope’s voice was heard over the commercial. “A one stop shop for all your island essentials.”

“T-Shirts!” Andy and JJ said at the same time. While the boy just held the shirts up for the camera, Andy showed the design on her back, pointing a thumb at it as she gave the camera a smirk over her shoulder.

“Boots!” Sarah smiled at the camera as she held a pair of boots in her hand. There was also a pair floating, upside down, next to her head. The camera zoomed out some to catch Andy doing a handstand to show the water proof shoes she had on. “Okay, cut it before I pass out.” She rasped out, the camera cutting just in time before she fell.

“Bucket Hats.” John B smiled at the camera as he held up a hat with his hand. He then moved and placed the hat onto Gavin’s head, who stood there with a straight face and his arms crossed. John B continued to give the camera a large smile, in contrast to his friend next to him, before the clip cut.

“Live bait!” Pope and AJ said enthusiastically, pointing to the fish in his girlfriend’s hand. The fish then twitched, causing Pope to flinch since it was so close to his face, while AJ just continued to smile at the camera, raising her brows twice before the clip cut.

“Kayak rentals!” Sarah yelled as she rowed within the small boat, the camera quickly zooming in so it could look as if she was really on the water instead of swaying on the dock.

“Fishing nets!” Kiara said with a smile as she held the large net out. She then turned to Twitch, placing the tool over his head, catching him in the net.

“For catching fish and thieves.” AJ smiled as she popped up from behind the counter, startling the pair. Twitch sharply gasped at her words before turning back to Pope, who held the camera. “You gotta cut that out, you know I have a case pending.” He finishes just before the camera cut.

“At the Kildare..Country Surf Shop, we treat our customers like..they’re gold.” Pope said stiffly, standing straight as he looked into the camera with an uncomfortable look in his eye. The camera dropped a little to show nothing but they’re legs and the golden god walking up to them, a voice behind the device speaking.

“Oh, babe, that was really bad.” AJ said softly as Pope walked closer. “Yeah, that sucked absolute ass.”Andy said bluntly, a small slap sounding out and the camera moving as the girl then hissed. “I know, I know.” Pope sighed defeatedly. “Why are you so stiff?”

“Yeah, it looks like someone was holding you at gun point.” Andy spoke again, the camera jolting slightly when AJ shoved her. “Yeah, I’ll just cut that out.” The boy groaned, the camera catching his bottom half walk closer to his girlfriend, who held her arms open for him to enter in defeat.

“Here at the surf shop, we believe that the board you ride should as personal as the wave you rip.” John B said as he looked down into the camera, showing the customized board on the ceilings.

“This is such an odd angle.” AJ said as she stepped into frame slightly, catching John B’s attention. “Wrong type of video if you know what I mean.” The camera cut just in time to catch the groans that sounded within the room.

“We have our local sea turtle lover, Kiara Carrera and resident artists Twitch and Andy who can make you a custom board, pottery and more.”

“Really get a vibe for your aura.” Kiara said to the camera, standing in her apron with the board material behind her. “Could be your sign or I could read your chakra and make you a board on those readings.” She said softly, gesturing over to the painting station behind her.

“I’m getting, like, a caaaaann-“ She trialed off softly as she painted the board, standing before a customer who was waiting.

“Oh, actually I’m a Scorpio.” The girl said.

“Scorpio.” Kiara finished, as if she already knew what the girl was going to say. “It was-It was either that-it was one of the two.” The girl said. The customer just nodded her head, an unsure frown on her features.

The camera then cut to Twitch, who stood in an apron as well with spray cans in his hands. “Yeah, I don’t do all that astronomy mumbo jumbo.” He waved off, the cans clicking in his hands. “I bring an unethical and graffiti type of vide to surfing that a lot of Kooks and tourist don’t really like. But I say rock on!” He smirked. The video then cut to another clip of Twitch, this time standing in front of a customer.

“Okay, so I was thinking an Asian style jaguar, crawling down the back of a Chinese dragon flying atop the clouds on Mount Fuji. Or, Pinhead on top of Cerberus, slicing the head off a Hydra.” He suggested. The camera then panned to a little boy, who scratched his head as he glanced over his shoulder for his parents. “Uh, I was thinking, like, a whale or something. My mom doesn’t let me watch scary movies.” He said innocently.

AJ softly cooed from behind the camera while Twitch just scoffed. “Well, I was watching horror movies before I could even speak but, whatever.” He shrugged before moving to grab his supplies. “My signature has to go on the bottom, that the rule. And that’ll be five hundred dollar so pay up, kid.” He said before harshly placing his supply crate on top of the surfboard, causing the little boy to flinch at the loud impact.

“Twitch!” AJ hissed while Andy sighed. “Just cut the damn cameras.” She said to Pope before the camera cut.

“I on the other end offer a variety of crafts.” Andy smirked to the camera, staring outside on her apron. “Inside you will see a few pottery items I’ve made, and I do customs as well.” She winked with a smirk. “And I also do caricatures! I’ve done portraits on boards for couples and family’s here and there.” She smiled.

The video then cut to the girl standing before a couple, the pairs arms wrapped around one another as they posed for the drawing. “What a lovely couple.” Andy smiled, looking between the pair. They laughed a little, turning to look into the other’s eyes. “It’s be a shame if you broke up.” She continued with a smile on her face, not seeing their smiles dripping slightly as she drew. “I mean, who would get the board if you did? Would even you even want the board? Especially if one of you cheats, that’d be so difficult.” She sighed softly before looking up at the pair. “But I doubt that’ll ever happen.” She cheesed as she looked between them, the couples face now blank. “I also do tattoos on the low.” She leaned forward to tell them, offering a wink before the camera quickly cut.

The video the cut to AJ, standing in behind the counter in the store. “And here we have Kain exclusives!” She said, gesturing to the ceramic cups and candies that littered the counter. “All pottery items and candles are hand crafted. We even do customs!” She said, the camera catching a pan of the well made and unique items. It then cut back to her, a smile of her face. “Only exclusive to Kildare County Surf Shop!” She grinned. Her smile only faltered slightly and before the camera cut, she continued. “And there may be some at Mama Heart’s near Figure Eight, but these are better.” She said before her face fell, serious as she looked into the camera lens. “No hate to you grandma.” She said

The video then cut to Gavin standing behind the same counter, face stoic as he leaned his weight onto counter. “You know him, you love him. Pouge Prince, Gavin Watts is here!” John B said as he popped in and gestured over to the boy. The other boys face didn’t move, looking into the camera. “AJ and I couldn’t be mechanics. So I work the counter.” He said simply. John B was just his awkward self, glancing at the boy while a voice spoke up from behind the camera.

“Be enthusiastic.” Andy whispered.

Gavin just help a thumbs up, nothing else changing. Andy sighed.

“This diva.” AJ laughed from behind the camera.

“So bring it on home to the Kildare County Surf Shop! Built by Pouges…” John B trialed off surely, just staring into the lens of the camera, not a thought behind his eyes.

“For Pouges.” Sarah and AJ said.

“For Pouges.” Pope continued.

“For Pouges.” Kiara cheered.

“Yeah, no Kooks allowed. I gut you!” Cleo hissed. “Yeah!” AJ yelled in excitement, trying and giving the girl a high five. “Yeah!” Andy just agreed to be a part of the enthusiasm, leaning her weight off of JJ. John B automatically agreed, pointing at the camera without much thought behind what the girls were actually saying before Gavin stepped in.

“Woah, some kooks.” He said, placing his hands on Cleo’s shoulders. “Some Kooks.” Pope agreed. “Yeah, that’s where the money is,” Twitch spoke up, and leaned against the railing on the other side of Kiara as he brushed his waves down out of pure boredom.

“And don’t forget to book your scuba and surf tour by..JJ Maybank.” The blonde boy suddenly cut in, gaining the rest of their attention. Andy stood next to him, her arm around his shoulder as she nodded and gave the camera a thumbs up. “Best guy for the job!” She said.

“The Kildare County Surf Shop!” Pope’s voice said over a clip of the group plus the pets sitting on the steps outside of the shop, waving at the drone as it rose high and higher. JJ and Gavin stood on the opposite ends of the group, not as enthusiastic as the others, even though Andy was lazily waving JJ’s hands for him. “Located on the old Maybank property.”

Andy was the first to stand up when she say the drone fly closer to the trees. “No, no.” She said as she rushed over, Pope on her trials, as well as French Fry, who thought they were playing a game. “No, no, no, no, no.” The boy said, but the drone stilled hit the bank of the tree, catching branches and then falling to the ground. “Ugh!” He groaned, on his knees as he inspected the expensive gadget to make sure everything was okay.

[hattersarts]

more viv & cleo. delight in annoying your boss when you know she cant fire you but be warned she WILL seek revenge

[shmookiegreen]

Monster High redesigns part 6 Cleo De Nile ⚰️ 🔼