#outer space is her home

[amomohthefairy]

Just an incredibly daring diva doing her thing!🌳🪐👽🧚🏽‍♀️🌟

[bosooka]

i have very few headcanons that i'm not happy to set aside for a specific AU or scenario or for just chatting with friends, but the one i do hold onto very strongly is that satine was THE most eligible bachelor at her space boarding school/university thing. everyone had it so bad for her, regardless of gender or species, every single one of her classmates wanted a piece of that towering mandalorian princess

and then they'd take her on a date and she'd spend the entire time yapping about mandalorian history

[angel-blitz]

Petals misses her husband a lot when he goes on his hunts. She wraps Slims blanket around her bc it smells like him and that helps her feel better💗

[bansheesscream]

Thinking about Killer Klowns from Outer Space and the characters have some interesting dynamics.

Dave insists on dropping Debbie off at her house while he and Mike go check out the Klown space ship. This can seem eye rolly because the female character is getting sidelined out of the action. But this ends up leading Mike to be the one to make irrational decisions? If it were Debbie and Dave looking for the Klowns it would have been Debbie who impulsively wrecked the car trying to run over slim. And it would have had a total vibe of "silly woman" with Dave being the one to keep his senses in that situation.

Later, when she gets into the shower to wash off the pop corn, this being an 80s horror movie, what a perfect time to have an excuse to show boobies. But no it never happens. I think we only see the bottoms of her legs and later her arm. Otherwise she's behind the curtain. We don't even see her in her bra. Then she fights off the pop corn snake Klowns. Of all the characters, she is the second best at fighting off the Klowns. (And Dave gets guns!). Does Mike ever kill a Klown or attack one besides that unsuccessful attempt with the car?

Yes she gets captured by the Klowns, but this is after several are in her house. And luckily she ended up in the balloon.

She knew almost immediately that there was something off about the circus tent while Mike thought it was a fun circus until they got to the cotton candy room.

Later she is the first one to go down the pole and she is smart enough to look down and not get eaten by the alligator. And she probably stopped Mike from being its lunch as they both stop Dave from getting chomped.

Mike never seems to feel that his masculinity threatened. He let's Dave take the lead and never insists on having the gun. In the beginning at make out point, when Debbie wants to check out the meteor, he wants to stay and get some action but doesn't pressure her and goes with her to see what landed in the woods. (This ultimately probably saved their lives)

Dave himself accepts the bro hug from Mike at the end of the movie and he was protective over both Mike and Debbie.

EDIT: I also wanted to point out that sending Debbie home to keep her safe was the WRONG choice. She was home alone when the clowns to show up with no weapons to defend herself. Her hair spray and shower head worked against the pop corn Klowns but not the big guys. Daves attempt to be a gentleman almost got Debbie killed and would have if the Klowns weren't planning to balloon her!

Anyway, they are the perfect throuple.

Just an addition. He probably wasn't intended to be this, but Moony was the perfect parody of a cop. The man was power hungry, abused his power, was violent with those he arrested, drank on the job, and didn't even want to do his job and we all know what happened to him. Dave is also unfortunately a cop but I choose to believe, since he is young, that initially became a cop because he wanted to protect people, but then saw how corrupt cops are through Moony and later the state troopers. He chooses to retire from the police force. He, Mike, and Debbie probably wanted to get out of that town anyway. So they are all living on a farm preparing for the return of the Klowns.

[rioblitzle]

still insane the amount of takes i see in the year 2024 where people are genuinely mad about the ending of super mario odyssey because they think princess peach "owes" mario romantic reciprocation and marriage. are you people ok

[blackvahana]

now hold on Asunder why did you reblog Apocrypha posts here

[ice-eise-babyy]

Highlight | J.B.B

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: A single comment takes a toll at your self-confidence, unintentionally pushing bucky away.

Warnings: really fluffy, slight angst (so slight you won't even feel it), implied smut, Sharon (unintentionally) being a bitch, cursing (real brief)

A/N: loosely inspired by a real life event. I do request so please go slide in my asks. that's it. Happy reading!!

Bucky loved you.

Every atom, essence, and fiber of you, he loved. There was nothing about you that could change his perception of you.

He had learned to memorize every inch of you with his eyes closed; Using only his tongue, fingers, and lips. Making a mental map of each dip and curve, every scar and mole, and all of your smile lines and wrinkles. Not only that but also your whole being. He knew you so well that he could tell what you wanted— what you needed before you could even say it. It was like a telepathic connection...

That's why it didn't take him long to figure out that something was wrong.

It was never your intention to make Bucky worry.

It all started with a small comment...

You had just finished showering in the gym shower after your training. Your body was wrapped in a towel that was way too short for your liking. displaying the stretch marks on your outer thighs, making you chew the insides of your cheeks.

And as if it wasn't enough to make you self-conscious, "Woah... That's some marks you've got there y/n..." It was Sharon as she entered the gym shower. Sounding perplexed and repulsed by the sight.

"Yeah.." you said, masking the rising insecurity with a faux chuckle before getting the hell out of there.

You ignored the twisted feeling in your stomach and the lingering embarrassment her words had caused. Brushing it off and pretending like you weren't affected by it. But soon it was eating you up like mites on wood. Nipping and nibbling at the last bits of self-assurance that you have.

It was affecting you so much that you hadn't even noticed that you were starting to distance yourself from Bucky...

Bucky, knowing you better than he knows himself, immediately noticed this. He didn't miss how you'd flinch at his touch. he caught how you'd recoil and pull away whenever he sought a hug or a kiss. It didn't go over his head when you started wearing more layers than just his shirt.

Of course, he was worried... But he pushed the worries away thinking that maybe you were just tired...

Weeks went by, yet you continued to distance yourself from him. He didn't want to think about it too much or ask you about it, afraid that it would only push you further.

So he convinced himself that you just wanted a bit of space. Especially now that you were getting some actual rest since you were jam-packed with missions and meetings the previous month.

It wasn't until last night...

˚‧⁺  ･ ˖ ·˚ ⋆｡˚ ˚‧⁺

"Sure, thanks Steve..." You bid Steve goodbye as you got off the elevator, just now getting home from your first mission of the month.

You opened the door with ease, not wanting to make any noise as you entered your shared room with Bucky. Tiptoeing as you entered, concerned that you'd wake him up.

"Hey, doll..." Your whole body jolted as you heard him, his voice sounding hoarse with sleep.

You simply looked in his direction and gave him a lopsided smile,

Just a smile?

"Go to sleep..." You told him as you left him to shower...

He in fact did not go to sleep. He waited for you. Wanting to wrap his arms around you and kiss away your exhaustion from the mission.

"I told you to go to sleep, bucky." he looked in your direction, admiring how adorable you looked in his hoodie and some basic sweatpants.

"How can I?" He shrugged as if it was the most obvious question, "you're not here with me.." he added, extending his arms out for a hug.

You gulped, hesitating for a little while longer. Soon giving in as you saw the expecting look on his face. His slate blue eyes glimmered in the darkness as you walked over to him.

He sighed, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Burying his face in your clothed stomach as you stood there.

"I missed you," he nuzzled into you more, "so damn much." He said as he finally pulled away, looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes.

He wanted to stay like this with you. He needed to stay like this with you...

The pad of his fingers dug into your hips as his grip tightened, pulling you to his lap.

"I missed you too..." You said, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head...

It was like all your worries were thrown out the window as he held you by the neck and captured your lips with his. Kissing you with such need and longing. It was as if a huge wave of relief washed over you... Until his hands started exploring under your hoodie.

All your insecurities resurfaced as you recalled the marks that you were hiding under these layers of clothing. Sharon's words replaying in your head like a broken record.

No...

It was like your body was moving on its own accord. Your breathing lodged in your windpipe as you realized that you had unintentionally pushed him away... Your hands trembling as they hovered mid-air, a short distance away from his chest which you had just shoved away...

"I..." You started but it was like the words were caught in the back of your throat...

You felt guilt settling in the pit of your stomach as you saw the pain flickered amongst the flecks of navy in his eyes that Momentarily looked down before looking back at you, helping you off his lap.

One...

Breathe...

Two...

She's just tired...

Three...

Be understanding...

"It's... It's fine..." The reassurance tasted bittersweet on his lips, a tight-lipped smile decorating his features...

You felt like the knot of guilt in your stomach was about to snap as you didn't fail to notice how his smile didn't reach his eyes... Or how the inflection of his voice came across as insincere, strained, hurt...

He's hurt... Because of me...

He wasn't hurt, no.

Hurt was something a 3-year-old would say if he scraped his knee. Hurt was something a teenager felt when he got his heart broken from puppy love. Hurt is something minor. Something that can be easily cured with words...

This? This was neglect.

He felt neglected... He felt like you were drifting a bit too far...

Too far from him...

˚‧⁺  ･ ˖ ·˚ ⋆｡˚ ˚‧⁺

He has never been the type to openly talk about what he felt... But this— this thing you were doing? It was just unbearable... In ways that no simple words formed by letters could describe. And what's worst about this was it was you.

So, he ultimately decided that he had enough of it...

You were comfortably reading a book on the couch. The cap of your purple highlighter in between your lips as you highlight lines from your book with it. The bright color perfectly emphasizing your favorite parts.

A few other teammates were also in the living room. Respectfully busying themselves with whatever task they had at hand when suddenly, a very upset-looking bucky came storming into the living room with a scowl on his face.

"Let's talk. Now. In private." He snatched the book from your hand and tossed it on the coffee table automatically catching your attention

Confusion etched your face as you looked up at him, your knuckles turning white as your grip tightened around the highlighter.

"What are you—!" Your question abruptly interrupted, the world turning upside down as he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

The rest of the team looked at one another with puzzled looks, watching you writhe as he walked away with you on his shoulder like a bag of rice.

"Bucky!" You squealed, thrashing against the super soldier while you repeatedly told him to put you down. The purple ink from the highlighter in your hand staining his white tank top.

"Talk." Was all you heard as you landed on the bed with a guttural 'oof'

"Rude!" He gave you an unamused look, crossing his arms as his gaze followed you as you propped yourself. Sighing as he saw that familiar pout on your lips.

"I'm worried about you..." You felt a shiver run down your spine as he walked towards you.

"What do you mean...?" You facepalmed mentally as your words came out trembling.

You were sweating, not wanting to talk about any of this any further. You already knew where this was going...

And you didn't like it...

"You're just..." He paused, looking for the right words, "You're not being you... And you—" he cut himself off, noticing how you moved away when he sat beside you. "You keep doing that"

"That? What's 'that'?"

"You keep distancing yourself from me..." You felt the guilt claw up your neck as you heard the way his voice sounded so defeated.

You never intended to worry him, and you never would want to. But looking at the situation at hand made you realize how much you got drowned by your self-doubt that you had been depriving him of the truth...

You felt torn as you sat there staring into the hazy silver hue in his blue eyes, the distress and yearning flickering in them.

You wanted to tell him about everything. You wanted to tell him how Sharon's words made your confidence falter. You wanted to show him why...

But it scared you...

The mere thought of his repulsed expression made your heart sink to your toes.

"I don't know if I've done something wrong. If I've said something you didn't like. If I had been too much. If you need space—"

"No! It's not like that..." Your eyes widened as his rambling slowly sunk into your skull,

He's blaming himself...?

"I just... It's..." He held your hand, soothing you through your anxious state...

He hated seeing you like this, he hated how much you were holding back, he hated how you were hesitating... But he was patient with you like he always is. Because he knew firsthand how hard it is to open up.

"Please... Please tell me.." you let out a shaky breath. Your fingers fiddled with the highlighter as you closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

The moment you opened your eyes and witnessed the unshed tears gloss over his pretty eyes was the exact moment you figured that you had lost at whatever this was...

Your hands fidgeted with the highlighter as you told him everything he needed to know— from the stretch marks that had you questioning your self-worth to Sharon’s comment that rang in your ears like a constant reminder. You just laid it all out there, hoping he’d understand how much it had gotten to you. Even though you knew it still wasn't enough of an excuse for how you've treated him...

The tears prickled your eyes as they pooled; you felt so small. So vulnerable around him... Just how you liked it.

"I'm so proud of you for telling me doll..." The pad of his thumb swiping away the single tear that rolled down your face...

"Can I see...?" You looked at him with wide eyes, why would he want to see such a sight?

"James..." His name slipped from your lips as a hesitant whisper, but your thoughts became a jumbled mess when he suddenly got off the bed and kneeled in front of you, looking up at you with those big blue eyes...

"Please...?" He pleaded, removing the highlighter before holding your hands in his.

Your man was literally on his knees for you, his eyes wide with hope and vulnerability, like he was silently begging for an answer. His voice was so full of genuine longing and yearning. How could you say no to that? At that moment, with your heart swelling, saying anything but yes felt impossible.

You meekly nodded and he looked like a kid on Christmas morning, beaming with a grin.

Goosebumps formed on your skin as you felt his hands twisting with the waistband of your pajama shorts. He looked up at you as though to ask for permission so you granted it with another nod. You lifted your hips for him to fully remove them.

Suddenly,you felt the insecurity clawing at your neck; feeling exposed and just... Bare as you sat there in just your tank top and underwear. Displaying parts of your body that only he had the privilege of seeing.

You pressed your knees together, knowing that the marks only get worse around the insides of your thighs...

Bucky didn't like this... But he had more than one way to keep those legs spread for him...

"So pretty..." he murmured, his voice soft and full of admiration as his hand gently held your calf as if you would wither under his touch if he wasn't careful enough. His other hand was doing the total opposite by holding your other leg in place and slightly spreading it. He leaned in, pressing a series of slow, lingering kisses from your knee, his lips feather-light as they brushed against your skin. He moved up to the side of your thigh, each kiss seemed to carry a silent promise, a vow of how much he adored every inch of you. The warmth of his breath and the tenderness in his eyes made your heart stutter, filling you with a sense of love and security that felt overwhelming.

You let out a whine, desperate and needy when you felt him detach his lips from your skin. Already yearning for the sensation of his lips on you. "What are you doing?" Gazing at him curiously as he took the highlighter in his hand

He didn't answer.

He held your knee in one hand to avoid them from blocking his line of sight. His mind was in a whirlwind as he saw the marks.

They're beautiful

How dare you deprive him of this.

You gasped as you felt the cold ink of the highlighter on your skin. Bucky moved his hand gracefully as he left traces of bright purple along your stretch marks, tucking his lower lip between his teeth as he concentrated.

"What are you doing, James?" Another attempt for an answer as you watch his hand in between your legs only to be met with silence once again.

He pulled away once he finished, a satisfied look on his face. Looking at his work with such pride in himself. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. Nothing could ever compare to this, to you. No art made by Monet, Renoir, or even Van Gogh could ever come close to how ethereal you looked...

"This," he started, his fingers gently tracing the trails of purple ink on your skin, "This is to remind you that I will always love all of you"

You bit back a smile as you looked down at him; the lovesick look in his eyes told you that his words exude nothing but honesty. And it was as if everything was just now sinking into your mind. Crimson tinted your cheeks, heating up as you realized that you were half naked with a super soldier in between your thighs. Kneeling for you.

You let out a strangled moan as he pressed his lips on your skin once more. Trailing wet kisses to your inner thigh, inhaling as his nose poked your clothed core. You smelled so sweet...

"You think you're getting off the hook that easy?" You gulped so hard that he probably heard it, you couldn't help yourself. How could you when Bucky was looking up at you like someone who hasn't been fed for the past few months? The warmth of his blue eyes dissipated as it was replaced by something familiar but different... Something feral.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, doll. I'm going to fuck you until you're finally convinced that every part of you is perfect"

[loveesiren]

𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 (𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖮𝗇𝖾)

Rafe Cameron x Reader | Pt. 2

a/n: hi my lovelies! I wrote this based on one of my favorite songs! Emergency Contact by Pierce The Veil. It ended up being really long so I decided to chop it up into three parts! Not sure if I'll write more for it but I'm just happy to get out of my writer's block and post something new. I hope you enjoy! Feedback welcome and encouraged :)

synopsis: Y/N has always been close to the Cameron family, practically a part of it after years of friendship. Beneath the surface, unspoken feelings simmer between her and Rafe, but neither of them can muster the courage to admit it. When Y/N finally decides to move on, setting her sights on a new man, he’s forced to confront the truth: losing her might cost him more than he ever realized.

warnings: slight angst

wc: 3.1k+

Rafe wasn’t used to girls like you. Sweet, kind, and angelic. His experience with women had mostly consisted of those who were after his money or his drugs, their intentions shallow and self-serving. But you were different. You didn’t want anything from him—not his wealth, not his reputation, not his vices. Your every interaction with him felt genuine, and it threw him off balance. You made him feel things he couldn’t quite name, emotions foreign and unsettling in their depth.

The first time Sarah brought you home was about three years ago. You had recently moved to the Outer Banks and met Sarah at a party at the Boneyard. You hit it off immediately, your laughter and warmth cutting through the chaos of the night. Sarah had invited you to dinner with her family, and you accepted, not knowing how much that evening would change everything.

You wore a white sundress that night, the fabric brushing against your sun-kissed skin. Your hair fell in soft waves past your shoulders, and you carried yourself with effortless grace. You looked like the picture-perfect Kook, someone destined to fit seamlessly into their world. Sarah had assured you her family would love you—and they did. But no one was more captivated than her brother, Rafe.

“Rafe, this is Y/n,” Sarah introduced as you stepped into the dining room.

“So nice to meet you!” you said warmly, your smile lighting up the space.

Sarah had expected Rafe to scoff or brush you off like he usually did with her friends. Instead, he stood there, visibly flustered. His blue eyes darted from you to the floor as he scratched the back of his head, his hair falling slightly into his face.

“I-uh-you too,” he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Sarah smirked, barely holding back a laugh. It was rare to see Rafe like this, vulnerable and unsure. Throughout dinner, he was unrecognizable—quiet, attentive, and completely entranced by you. He didn’t crack a single sarcastic remark or roll his eyes like he usually did. Instead, he listened intently as you chatted with Rose and Ward about your background, your studies, and your dreams. His heart skipped a beat every time you laughed, the sound stirring something deep inside him.

Later that night, as you and Sarah changed into pajamas in her room, she couldn’t help but tease you.

“Rafe likes you,” she said, a sly grin spreading across her face.

You blinked in surprise. “Really? He seems… shy.”

Sarah snorted. “Oh, he’s far from shy. At least, not with most people. I’ve never seen him clam up like that before.”

You bit your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The thought of Rafe Cameron—the same Rafe who intimidated just about everyone—getting nervous around you sent a flutter through your chest.

Over the months, you became a fixture in the Camerons’ lives. You grew close to Sarah, sharing secrets and adventures like lifelong friends. But it was your bond with Rafe that surprised everyone—including yourself. Around you, he was different. The sharp edges of his personality softened, his temper cooled. He was kinder, calmer, and, for the first time in years, genuinely happy.

Sarah noticed the change immediately. She even started to enjoy spending time with her brother—something she’d never thought possible. Whenever you were around, Rafe seemed lighter, his dark moods kept at bay by your presence.

And while you’d never admit it out loud, you’d started to feel something too. The way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke your name—it all made your heart race in a way you couldn’t ignore. You knew it was risky, falling for your best friend’s brother. But with Rafe, it felt inevitable.

Today was an exciting day. You and Sarah were helping Rafe move into his new house, a milestone he’d worked tirelessly to achieve. It wasn’t as grand as Tanneyhill, lacking the opulence and legacy of the Cameron estate, but it was something entirely his. A charming seaside home, bathed in sunlight and kissed by the ocean breeze, a place where he could finally carve out a life of his own. With Sarah already living with John B, you knew Rafe had felt out of place staying at home at 24. Now, this house was his fresh start.

“This is gorgeous!” you called out, your voice carrying across the open space as you stepped onto the balcony off the living room. The view was breathtaking: the endless stretch of ocean meeting the horizon, waves rolling in with rhythmic grace. The sun warmed your skin, and the salty air filled your lungs, making your heart feel light and free.

Rafe followed you outside, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I thought you’d like it,” he said, his voice tinged with pride. But while the sea and sky formed a masterpiece before him, his gaze lingered on you instead, captivated by the way the sunlight danced in your hair and the way your eyes sparkled with joy.

“I mean, look at this view!” you exclaimed, leaning against the railing and spreading your arms wide as if to embrace the entire ocean. “I could look at this forever!”

Rafe’s eyes never left you. “Me too,” he murmured, so softly it was almost a whisper. His words weren’t meant for the horizon or the waves, but for you—the only view that truly mattered to him in that moment.

You turned to look at him, a grin lighting up your face. “I brought champagne! To celebrate!” you announced, practically bouncing on your feet before darting back through the house and out to your car to grab the bottles you’d picked up. Returning triumphantly, you popped one open, the cork flying with a soft “pop” and a few fizzy streams spilling onto the hardwood floor. You laughed it off, quickly pouring everyone a glass.

“To new beginnings!” you declared, raising your glass high, your eyes sparkling as they met Rafe’s.

“To new beginnings,” Rafe echoed, his voice soft but steady as he clinked his glass against yours, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary.

The rest of the afternoon was a flurry of activity. John B and Rafe tackled the heavy lifting, moving boxes and furniture, while you and Sarah set to work unpacking and arranging. The kitchen was priority number one, ensuring Rafe would at least have a functional space to cook while settling in. Between trips to Tanneyhill and the furniture store, laughter filled the air, making the hard work feel less like a chore and more like an adventure.

By the time evening rolled around, the four of you collapsed onto the couch, surrounded by a sea of half-opened boxes. You leaned back, exhaustion mingling with the lingering buzz of champagne.

“How do you have so much stuff?” Sarah groaned, shooting Rafe an incredulous look.

Rafe smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Please, I seem to remember a few boatloads of crap when we moved you to Poguelandia.”

“He’s not wrong,” John B chimed in, raising an eyebrow at Sarah. “Our room is mostly your stuff. I have, like, one drawer.”

“Oh, shut up!” Sarah laughed, playfully slapping her boyfriend on the shoulder. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “Speaking of our room,” she said through another yawn, “I’m ready for bed.”

You giggled as John B helped her up from the couch, the champagne’s bubbly warmth making you feel light and carefree.

“Thanks for the help,” Rafe said, walking them to the door. You listened as the Twinkie’s engine roared to life, fading into the distance as Rafe closed the door and returned to the couch.

“Rafeyyyy,” you whined playfully, stretching out the nickname as you leaned into the cushions. “I think I might’ve had a little too much champagne.”

Rafe chuckled, his lips curving into an easy smile as he settled beside you. He loved the way your nickname for him rolled off your tongue, soft and endearing. “That’s okay. You can stay here tonight. Take the bed; I’ll crash out here.”

“What? No!” you protested, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s your first night in your new home! I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm, “you’re not ruining anything.”

“I don’t even have a change of clothes,” you pouted, crossing your arms for dramatic effect.

Rafe’s laugh was soft, a sound that made your chest feel lighter. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Go shower. I’ll make the bed and find you something to wear.”

Your cheeks warmed under his touch, but you nodded, a cheeky smile spreading across your face. “Okay,” you said, hopping up and darting toward the bathroom.

You were grateful you and Sarah had spent time unpacking the essentials in the master suite. Grabbing a towel, you locked the door behind you and turned on the shower. Steam quickly filled the space, cocooning you in its warmth. As the water cascaded over your skin, washing away the day’s sweat and exhaustion, you let yourself relax, the events of the day swirling in your mind. Rafe’s soft smiles and gentle touches lingered in your thoughts, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you couldn’t quite shake.

You tried to push the thoughts from your mind. You and Rafe were close friends—nothing more. You couldn’t justify having feelings for your best friend’s older brother. Besides, Sarah had set you up on a date with JJ Maybank for tomorrow. The blonde Pogue was someone you’d grown to know well. He was carefree and fun, always ready to brighten everyone’s day with his infectious energy.

You were genuinely excited for your date with JJ. Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t see you as anything more than a friend. Sure, he’d had a small crush on you when you first met, but that had been ages ago. He’d never made a move, so you assumed those feelings had long since faded. You shook off the intrusive thoughts and focused on finishing your shower, letting the warm water wash away any lingering doubts.

Meanwhile, Rafe moved with quiet purpose. He carefully made the bed, choosing the softest sheets he could find and fluffing the pillows with meticulous care. On the edge of the bed, he laid out one of his favorite T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants for you. Comfort was his priority. It always was when it came to you. He wanted you to feel at ease, to be happy. Deep down, he was completely and hopelessly in love with you, though he’d never admit it. The thought of saying it out loud felt terrifying—what if it changed everything?

Hearing the shower turn off, Rafe quickly exited the room, retreating to the couch. He pressed play on a random movie, letting the screen light up with familiar scenes as a distraction. Ten minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his oversized clothes, your damp hair framing your face.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice soft.

You sank onto the couch beside him. “Better. Sleepy,” you admitted with a small smile. “Thank you,” you added, gesturing to the clothes you wore.

“No problem,” he replied, fiddling with his earlobe, his gaze flickering nervously between you and the TV.

“What are you watching?” you asked, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them.

“Uh, just some old movie,” he said with a shrug. “Put it on for background noise.”

You squinted at the screen, quickly recognizing the iconic characters. A playful grin spread across your face. “Rafe Cameron, are you watching Titanic?”

Rafe glanced at the TV, his cheeks flushing. He hadn’t even realized what he’d put on. “Oh, I… I guess so,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed softly, turning to him. There was a shy look in his eyes, but it wasn’t about the movie. It was something else, something deeper. He looked like he wanted to say something, the words hovering on the tip of his tongue. But before he could speak, he clamped his mouth shut, redirecting his attention to the screen.

“You wanna watch it?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, leaning back into the couch. The comfort of the moment settled over you like a blanket.

You hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but the champagne and the long day had drained you. Before you knew it, you were slumped against Rafe, your head resting on his lap as soft snores escaped your lips.

Rafe’s heart swelled as he looked down at you, a tender smile spreading across his face. He gently played with the ends of your hair, his fingers brushing against the silky strands. As the movie reached its emotional climax, he found himself tearing up—not just at the tragic ending but at the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him. You looked so peaceful, so angelic, and he felt an ache in his chest he couldn’t ignore.

Carefully, he shifted, lifting your head to slide out from under you. Scooping you up into his strong arms, he carried you to the bedroom, mindful not to disturb your slumber. He pulled back the covers and tucked you in, making sure you were snug before clicking off the light. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, lingering for a moment to take in your serene beauty. With a reluctant sigh, he made his way back to the couch.

Sleep didn’t come easily for Rafe that night. He tossed and turned, his thoughts consumed by you. He’d tried to bury his feelings, tried to convince himself that friendship was enough. But the more he tried, the stronger those feelings grew. In the quiet of the night, he allowed himself to daydream—a cozy little house by the sea, a dog, maybe even kids. A life with you. But reality crept in, reminding him that to you, he was just a friend. Nothing more.

The next morning, the savory aroma of eggs and bacon wafted through the air, stirring you from sleep. You rubbed the remnants of slumber from your eyes and glanced around, the unfamiliar surroundings reminding you where you were. Rafe’s new house. His king-sized bed cradled you in luxurious comfort, but the empty space beside you felt oddly hollow. For a fleeting moment, you’d hoped to find Rafe still asleep there. The thought made you frown, though you quickly reminded yourself that he’d slept on the couch—because of course, Rafe was a gentleman like that.

You padded softly toward the kitchen, following the sound of sizzling. “Smells good,” you said, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Rafe jumped slightly but turned to you with a soft smile. “Oh, hey! You’re up! I made breakfast.”

“Thanks, Rafey,” you replied with a grin, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen island. Then guilt crept into your tone. “Sorry I got all drunk and stole your bed.”

He shook his head dismissively, turning back to the stove. “No need to apologize. I’m just glad you got some rest after yesterday.” He plated eggs and bacon, setting it before you. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Like a baby,” you chuckled, picking up a crisp strip of bacon.

“Good,” he replied, his voice warm as he resumed cooking. “So, any big plans today? Wanna help me unpack more of this mess?”

You paused mid-bite, your mind flickering to the evening ahead. “I can help for a bit, but I have a date tonight, so I’ll need to head home early to get ready.”

The words hung in the air, slicing through the calm. Rafe’s hand stilled, his grip tightening on the spatula. He didn’t turn to look at you, knowing his face might betray the knot tightening in his chest. In all the time he’d known you, he’d never heard you talk about a real date. Sure, you danced with guys at parties or flirted harmlessly, but this—this was different. His heart twisted painfully, the kind of ache he couldn’t ignore.

“A date?” he asked, forcing his tone to sound casual, though the words felt like sandpaper against his throat. “With who?”

You hesitated before answering, as if bracing yourself. “JJ,” you said quietly. “Sarah set it up. I haven’t been on a date in a long time, so I’m not really sure what to expect.”

Rafe’s mind reeled. JJ Maybank. Of all people. Why would Sarah do this—when she knew how he felt about you? He plastered on a tight smile, masking his turmoil as he finally turned to face you. “It’ll be great,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“You think so?” you asked, chewing your lip nervously. “I’m kind of... nervous.”

He swallowed hard, shoving his feelings down where they couldn’t escape. “Yeah,” he said, the words tasting bitter. “You’re a catch. He’d be a total idiot not to like you.”

Your lips curved into a warm smile, and for a moment, your gaze locked with his. Those ocean-blue eyes of his held something unspoken, something tender. “Thanks, Rafe,” you said softly, your voice full of gratitude.

He forced a grin, though it felt hollow. “Of course,” he replied. “Tell you what—don’t worry about the unpacking. Go home and get ready for your big date. Can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You beamed, finishing the last bites of breakfast. “You’re the best,” you said, grabbing your purse and heading for the door. “Thanks for letting me crash! I’ll get your clothes back to you tomorrow!”

Rafe watched as you hurried to the door, his heart aching with every step you took away from him. He raised a hand in a mock salute, a forced smile still glued to his face. “Have fun,” he said, his voice hollow.

The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the house felt suffocatingly empty. Rafe stood in silence, staring at the spot where you’d just been, your laughter still echoing faintly in his ears. He let out a sharp breath, his chest heaving with suppressed emotion. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the nearest glass off the counter and hurled it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, much like the hope he’d been quietly holding onto.

His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself. She’s gone, he thought bitterly. She was never mine to lose, but somehow, I lost her anyway.

For years, he’d found comfort in being the one you turned to—when you were too drunk at a party, overwhelmed by a panic attack, or even just bored on a lazy afternoon. You’d always come to him. But now, you were running toward someone else. JJ fucking Maybank.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

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[eraenaa]

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Inspired by the song "I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)" by Taylor Swift

Rafe Cameron x Reader Tag List

Summary: Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man.

Warnings: Substance Use, Possessiveness, Jealousy, ¿Kinda Toxic Relationship?, Mention of Violence, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, Choking, Boobjob, Filmed Sexual Relations, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 2,372

A/N: Sorry for being MIA finals week was rough and I was kinda burnout hence the almost month long hiatus but Taylor's new album revived me, so maybe expect more works inspired by TTPD songs!

You sat quietly as Rafe rested his warm hand on your thigh. You waited for him to finish his drink as he laughed around with his boys at the bar. Their voice echoed through the establishment, garnering curious glances from the other patrons present. You feel him squeeze your thigh tighter, his little signal that he wanted some affection, maybe a kiss or a touch from you. He turned to you, pupils enlarged from the little pill he took, “Are you bored?” He asked, and you quickly shook your head, placing your hand on the back of his head, and ran your nails gently against his skull. “No, baby,” You murmured and moved to kiss his lips, tasting the brandy on his tongue. Rafe parted from your kiss, looking intently into your eyes to see off you lied; he seemed satisfied enough and returned to his conversations with his friends. 

You hear the offensive joke that Rafe said a bit too loudly and held your breath. Placing your hand on his shoulder, hoping it would snap some sense into him, it usually did. You feel pitying and feared glances pointed towards you. The bartender to your left shook their head and muttered, “God help her,” when they realized you were with Rafe. A man who was notorious for his rage and ill temper. He was often perceived as rash and maybe even psychotic. Perhaps their judgment of him was true… but that is what attracted you to him anyway. You could not help but be intrigued by him and his imposing and reckless demeanor. You were certain you could tame him. You said to yourself, “I can fix him; no, really, I can.” 

He drove the both of you home. A bit of a misjudgment on your part, seeing how intoxicated he was, but there was something thrilling about him taking the reigns while still addled with dopamine and alcohol. There was something seductive in the way his hand would trail upward and upward on your thigh as he raced down the streets of the Outer Banks. But there was something different this night. There was tension in him that did not come from the lust you and him were succumbing to. “What’s wrong?” You asked, taking hold of his arm, caressing it in a way that made gooseflesh rise on his flesh. You bit your lip as his hold on you was tighter; you were certain it would once again leave his mark. “Everyone in that bar was looking at you… they were looking at what’s mine.” He snarled and pressed flat on the gas, making you speed down the streets so carelessly, but you could not find care as that elicited a wave of want in you. “They were only looking…” You trailed, testing to see what reaction it would garner from Rafe. 

You watch him shake his head, his jaw clenching in annoyance. “They were looking at what’s mine. They were practically undressing you with their eyes— imagining stealing you from me,” He gritted as you were nearing home. You voiced your disagreement, but that only seemed to enrage him more. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you, huh? You fucking enjoyed their attention.” Rafe accused, and your eyes darkened at his words. Just as the rage in him burned quickly, it died in a snap. You removed his hold on your thigh and stole away your touch on his arm. You did not wait for him to open the door of the passenger seat for you but instead got out of the confined space you were trapped in and left him. “Baby, wait, I—“ Rafe called, any irritation in his voice gone the moment he realized he had offended you. 

You were nearing your bedroom door, ready to lock him out for the night and repent for his offense, but he caged you in his arms, pulling you close to him. Burying his head at the side of your neck, he offered his apologies. “I’m sorry baby… I just don’t wanna lose you,” You hear his muffled boys. Smirking to yourself as you actually got an apology from him. From all the stories you heard of Rafe, ranging from his family to his friends and even his past flings, not one of them got an apology or anything that resembled half of it from him. But here he was, saying sorry over and over again, waiting for your reply. You kept silent for a while longer, and you felt him move over to the front of you, trying to kiss your lips, but you moved your head to the side. You bit your lip as you hear him puff, surprised by his following action. You watched Rafe sink down on his knees and hold you tightly against him, burying his face in your abdomen, his apologies spewing out from his mouth as if you were a god to whom he offered his prayers, pleading to be heard. You sighed and ran your hand through his hair, hearing him soothingly hum and burrow his head deeper into your abdomen.  

You were about to urge him to stand, but you were rendered frozen, and your breathing hitch when you feel his fingers take hold of your dress, hiking it higher. “Rafe,” you called as his lips trailed kisses on your exposed skin, his breath teasing your core that had already been aching for him. “I’m sorry,” He said once more, and you could only sigh as he placed a kiss between your thighs. You held tightly onto him as he lapped your folds, showing you just how sorry he was. “Rafe… Fuck, Rafe,” you called as he inserted a finger, but you were already on the verge of an orgasm by just the way his nose burrowed into your nubbin. “Do you forgive me, my baby?” Rafe asked, and you could only moan out your agreement and hear him hiss as you pulled on his hair and came down hard on his fingers and face. 

You hummed as you woke the next day with Rafe tracing hearts on your face; he had been watching you sleep. You gazed at him through the hazy sight of the fresh morning, “You look so pretty when you sleep,” Rafe said softly, and you smiled up at him. Gone in his system were the substances that were his ruin, but he could not deny. You quite liked him in this state, but you knew he would rather have his mood be altered by opioids and any other drugs that he believed would aid him. It won’t. And you just need to change that outlook of his or at least find another drug that would not be his ruin. 

“You’re mine,” Rafe gritted in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he realized every bastard at the party was staring at you. “I’m yours,” You repeated to calm the rage in him. He did not consume anything harsh or damnable per your request, but you were starting to rethink your decision because apparently Rafe, without his usual pick me up, was rather more paranoid and frantic. Every little interaction you have with the opposite sex pushes him closer over the edge. “Rafe,” you sighed as he stepped away, challenging a guy whose gaze had been flying to you the whole night. “The fuck you staring at, huh! Do you want a fucking fight, bro?! Stop staring at my gi—“ Rafe screamed, and you pulled at him with all of your might for him to face you and save the innocent man from being beaten up to a pulp. You turn to Rafe’s friends, urging them to help, them being the able-bodied ones to escort Rafe outside to calm down. 

You stood before him as he sat by the ledge of a planter box. His head was in his hands as he tried to calm his ragged breathing. You stood silently as he took out a box of cigarettes and hastily lit a stick. “Stop looking at me like that,” Rafe spat, and you furrowed your brows at his words. “Like what?” You asked, and Rafe shook his head and took a long drag of a cigarette. “Like you’re disappointed! I know that look all too well,” He scoffed, and you took in a deep breath, stepping closer to him. Squatting down to meet him at eye level, placing a kiss on his cheek, and your hand found home at the back of his head again, running your fingers through his hair, noting how he would lean into your touch. “I’m not disappointed,” you say in earnest, but Rafe scoffs at your words. “You are. Don’t lie to me.” He gritted and threw the bud of his cigaret onto the ground, the glowing embers slowly dying down like the rage in him. 

“I never lie to you,” You say softly, placing your hold on the side of his face. “I’m yours, Rafe,” you say softly. “You’re mine.” He answered back. “Exactly. Then why are you trying to fight those others who are completely insignificant to us?” You ask softly, brushing your thumb across his brow, watching as his eyes fluttered close and a sigh left his lips. “Because I know what they want. I know they want what’s mine.” He gritted, tensing in anger once more, his fists clenching and warning danger. “But they won’t get to have it, won’t they?” You asked and stared deeply into his ocean eyes as they opened once more. “No. Never.” He swore, and you smiled, placing a kiss on his lips. 

Kissing you was the greatest high Rafe felt. The high he now realized was the only one he’d want to chase. Nothing chemically and artificially induced could compare to your lips. “Let’s go back inside,” Rafe said after your kiss had sedated his rage. “On one condition,” You said and stood your ground as he tried to pull you back into the direction of the party. You pulled him to you, flushing your bodies, and returned your hand to caress his troubled head. “No more invoking fights? Stop glaring at those guys?” You asked and watched as he frowned at your words. “I… I can probably do no more fighting— but baby, come on, they keep staring at you and—“ You shook your head and interrupted him. 

“Be a good boy tonight, and later… I’ll do what you’ve been asking me to do since last month,” You hindered your grin as you watched Rafe’s jaw turn slack, his eyes now intoxicated and dilated with the thought of you. “What do you say?” You asked, batting your lashes at him, trailing your fingers against his forearm, your eyes already catching a glance of the dent in his trousers. “I’ll be a fucking angel if you want.” He almost growled. And you let him usher you back to a party with a smile beaming on your face. 

Rafe kept true to his word. There was practically a halo around his head for the rest of the night. Foregoing his pilled and powdered remedies, even tossed out the intoxicating liquid in his glass. You thought miracles never happened, but Rafe even let you join your friends on the dance floor without him. You saw as he reigned in the hellish thoughts in him as men around danced by your side. Instead, he stood still in his spot, his mind on the thought of heaven you’ll present him if he played nice. 

You, too, kept true to your words. You were on your knees, your hands pushing your tits together, and in between them was Rafe’s cock. A video camera by your side as Rafe had been begging you almost everyday for a home video together. Reasoning that ‘it would be a reminder of you when you are away.’ And the thought of you is the only thing that gets him on. “Fuck, baby— god, you’re so good. How are you this good?” Rafe groaned as you fucked him with your tits. It was the best reward for him, you rarely gave him head, and this was the first time you ever fucked anyone this way. Rafe fisted the sheets as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock again. He moaned out your name as you took him deeper into your mouth, the sound of you gagging on his cock spurring him on. But before he could come, before he could reach a different and higher level of high he always sought, you pulled away. 

“Baby… oh, baby, please, you can’t do this to me,” he almost begged, his eyes in a daze at the sight of you messy from sucking his cock. You crawled upwards and hung from his lips, him already expecting a kiss. “Fuck me in the shower,” Was all you said before you hastily dispread to the bathroom and turned the faucet on. It took a few moments for Rafe to process your words, but once he did. He quickly stood, took the camera, and positioned it to point toward you, who was already soaking wet. 

Rafe was quick to push you against the glass shower door, already excited to watch the video of you and your tits against the glass. “Yes… oh, god, like that,” You cried as Rafe mercilessly pounded behind you. He gathered your hair and gripped it back, eliciting a burning yet pleasurable sensation. “You’re always so prim and proper… but looked at you, you fuck like a whore,” Rafe gritted, and your eyes rolled back as he positioned his thrust to hit the spot that made your words incoherent. “You like that, huh, baby? You like it when I fuck you, dumb?” He asked, not expecting a reply but rather your moans. Rafe relinquished his hold on your hair and instead gripped your throat. Pounding harder into you as he felt you clench tighter around him, your body shaking and on the precipice of orgasm. “Mine. Mine, mine, mine.” Rafe gritted out as he, too, was close. “Yours. All yours, Rafe.” You cried as you came around him. Panting his name as he clung in the high that was you. 

I screamed when I first listened to the song that inspired this fic, bc Rafe was the most prominent thing that it conjured in my mind.

[eu-nicola]

enemies

summary: the love-hate relationship between Rafe and you

warnings: small mention of violence

word counter: 4151

author's note: english is not my first language

The first time you met Rafe Cameron, you were barely six years old. You clearly remember how his stepmother, Rose, welcomed you into her home with a perfect smile, while your mother insisted that you play with him and Sarah so that you wouldn’t be alone. 

The Cameron house was as intimidating as its miniature owner. Rafe was nine years old and had an attitude that made him seem much older. He looked down at you from the top of the stairs as if you were an intruder, someone who didn’t deserve to be in his space. 

“She’s the Davies’ daughter?” he asked in that mocking tone that would become his trademark. 

“Yes, and I want you to be nice to her.” Rose ruffled his hair before turning to you, but Rafe’s gaze was already fixed on your shoes, which were muddy from playing outside before coming in. 

“I hope she doesn’t touch anything, Rose.” His voice was dry, as if he was already tired of you before he really met you. 

From that day on, your relationship with him was marked by constant clashes. Every visit to the Cameron house felt like a cold war disguised as childish games. He always found ways to make you feel out of place, like the time he took your doll from your hands while you were playing with Sarah and threw it across the garden.

“If you don’t know how to play well, don’t play.” That phrase of his stuck in your mind.

In adolescence, the gap between you grew wider. While Rafe became the most popular boy among the Kooks, you began to spend more time with the Pogues. Your visits to the Cameron house became less frequent, and when they coincided, things always ended badly.

“Look at you, you’re a Pogue now.” His tone was always hurtful, accompanied by that arrogant smile that got on your nerves.

“And you’re still the same idiot as always.” Your response was almost automatic, as if after so many years the discussions between you were a rehearsed routine.

But the real problem wasn't just his words. It was the way he always found a moment to annoy you. During a beach party hosted by Kooks, for example, Rafe made sure your drink ended up spilled all over your new dress.

But it wasn't all enmity, when the search for gold began, your world became more complicated. You spent your days with the Pogues, planning, looking for clues, and trying to avoid Rafe, who seemed willing to do anything to get the treasure. The tension between you, which was already high, skyrocketed. It wasn't just childish enmity now; it was real danger.

Rafe had no limits. His eyes were always filled with that spark of arrogance, but behind it was something darker, something that made him unpredictable. Despite that, you never imagined you'd find yourself in the position you found yourself in one afternoon in the dense woods surrounding the Outer Banks.

You were following a trail of marks on the trees along with JJ and Kiara when you heard a noise. You broke away from the group, promising them you’d be back quickly. What you found was Rafe, kneeling beside a steep slope, holding his leg in a wince of pain. The ground beneath him was wet, almost muddy, and it looked like he might slide down any second. 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and pretend you hadn’t seen him. After all, Rafe wouldn’t have done the same for you, would he? But another part, that part you always tried to stifle, knew you couldn’t just leave him there. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe snapped at you as you cautiously approached. His voice was heavy with distrust, but there was also a hint of relief he tried to hide. 

“I should be asking you the same thing. What happened?” You couldn’t keep the tone of your voice from being harsh. After all, he had done a lot of things that warranted your hatred. 

“I slipped. My leg… I can’t move it.” His face was pale, and his hands shook slightly as he tried to brush away the mud that covered his pants.

There was a long silence. You could have left him there. You could have turned and gone back to the Pogues. But something inside you wouldn’t let you.

“This doesn’t mean I owe you anything,” you said as you crouched down beside him.

Rafe looked at you in disbelief. “Are you helping me?”

“Shut up and don’t make it harder, Cameron.”

You offered him your arm and helped him up, leaning his weight on you as you slowly moved forward. It was an awkward process; his size made each step harder. But there was something odd about the silence you shared, a momentary truce amidst all the hostility.

When you finally dropped him off somewhere safe, away from danger, Rafe looked at you with a mix of wounded pride and something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not going to thank you,” he said at last, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your brow. You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait.” His tone was softer than you’d heard before, almost vulnerable. You turned slowly to look at him.

“What?” you asked, tired.

“Did you see anything?” His question was direct, his gaze piercing.

You understood immediately. Rafe wasn’t just hurt; he was there for something related to gold. Maybe he’d found a lead, something he didn’t want the Pogues to know about. You could have told him the truth, that you’d noticed a map in his pocket when you helped him, but you chose to lie.

“No, I didn’t see anything.” Your voice was firm, although inside you felt a small knot of guilt.

Rafe seemed to relax a little, although he still looked at you with distrust.

Later, when the Pogues found a clue that fit too well with the area where you had seen Rafe, he understood what you had done. Someone, perhaps Sarah, told him that you were near the area when you separated from the group. It didn’t take much for him to put the pieces together.

The next time you saw him, his expression was completely different. There was no vulnerability or truce anymore, only fury.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he snapped at you, coming dangerously close.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to remain calm, although you knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You lied to me. You took what was mine!” His voice was filled with rage, and though you knew it was unfair, there was something in his eyes that made you feel a pang of remorse.

“I don’t owe you anything, Rafe.” Your response was cold, though inside you felt more affected than you wanted to admit.

Rafe was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on you. Finally, he took a step back, but not before making his feelings clear.

“Don’t ever cross my path again, Pogue.”

That was the beginning of a new phase in your feud, more bitter and personal than ever.

Your relationship with Rafe Cameron had reached a point where hatred seemed to be the only thing that united you. After your “betrayal” during the search for gold, any vestige of truce between you vanished. Although you would never admit it, there was something inexplicable that brought you back to square one: an enmity filled with tension, resentment, and something deeper that neither of you understood.

One of the worst fights you had occurred during a rainy night in the Outer Banks. The Pogues had been following Rafe, convinced that they had found another important lead to the gold. The chase led them to an old abandoned port, where you finally confronted them face to face.

“Always after me, aren’t you?” Rafe looked at you from the shadow of a warehouse, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead. The sound of the rain beat hard against the metal roof, but nothing could drown out the intensity of his voice.

“You have no right to that gold, Cameron.” Your words came out loaded with defiance as you clenched your fists. You knew you were probably playing with fire by facing him, but something in you couldn’t stop.

“And you are?” he replied, taking a step towards you. His eyes, dark under the rain, were filled with rage. “What makes you think you’re better than me, Pogue?.”

“For starters, I don’t try to kill people for him.” Your words made him laugh, a dry, bitter laugh that made you feel a chill.

“You think so?” Rafe leaned a little towards you, his voice lowering to an almost whispering tone. “You know perfectly well that you would do anything to protect your own, too. We’re not that different, even if it pains you to admit it.”

The argument soon turned physical. He tried to take the map from you, and you fought back with all your might. It was as if you were both so consumed by rage that nothing else mattered. You fell to the ground, feeling the cold wetness of the cement against your back, as Rafe tried to hold you down.

“Let me go, you moron!” you screamed, kicking him in the stomach.

“Give me the damn map!” he roared, clinging to your wrist.

For a moment, you thought it would all end there, that one of you wouldn’t walk away from this fight. But something changed. Rafe looked you straight in the eyes, and for a moment, his grip softened. He looked confused, as if he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t keep hurting you.

Finally, he let go of you and stood up, breathing heavily.

“I can’t do this.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

“What…?” you were speechless, still lying on the ground.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, taking a few steps away from you.

“Go away. Take the damn map and go away.”

But not everything always ended in a truce. There was another time when it was you who had to decide between helping him or letting him face the consequences of his own actions. It was during a smuggling operation that Rafe had organized to finance his obsession with gold. You found him cornered in an alley, with a group of men who clearly did not have friendly intentions.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped at you when you appeared at the end of the alley. He was bleeding from a cut on his eyebrow, but he still maintained that defiant attitude.

“I saw your truck nearby.” You approached cautiously, analyzing the situation.

The men paid you no attention at first, but soon realized you could be a problem. One of them advanced towards you with a menacing smile.

“Another friend of yours, Cameron?” he said mockingly.

“Get out of here, Pogue. I don’t need your help.” Rafe’s voice was firm, but there was something in his gaze that made you stay.

Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t just leave him there. You picked up a rock from the ground and threw it hard at one of the men. It was enough to distract them and give Rafe a chance to fight back.

You helped him escape, though as soon as you turned the corner, Rafe turned to you, furious.

“Why do you keep butting into my business?” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Because I’m not like you, Rafe. I can't let someone die, even if they're an idiot like you.” Your answer made him let out an exasperated sigh, but he didn't say anything else.

In the end, it was always the same. They hurt each other, they hated each other, they betrayed each other... but they also always found a way to forgive each other. You didn't know why you did it. Maybe it was because you saw something in Rafe that others didn't see, or maybe it was because deep down you knew you weren't as different from him as you wanted to believe.

The only thing you knew for sure was that, no matter how hard you tried to hate him, something always made you go back to him. And the worst of all was that Rafe seemed to feel the same way.

Rafe Cameron drove you crazy in every possible way and that made you uncomfortable and annoyed, despite always finding gold on your path, you also found it on your path when you were calm, reminding yourself that you couldn't get rid of it even if you wanted to.

There were nights when the air was so thick that it was hard to breathe. The humidity was sticking your clothes to your skin, but it wasn't just the weather that made you feel this way; it was him.

Rafe Cameron always managed to find you, even when you didn't want to be found. His mere presence seemed to charge the atmosphere with an almost palpable tension, something that only existed between the two of you. Like that time on the dock, under the dim light of a broken streetlight. You were alone, waiting for JJ and Pope, when you heard their footsteps, firm, sure, approaching.

Your body tensed before you turned around. There he was, standing, with that arrogant posture that you detested so much. His messy hair and clenched jaw gave you every reason to hate him more than you already did. But as you looked at him, feeling his gaze sweep over every detail of you, there was something different, something that made you stop.

There was anger in his gaze, yes, but there was also something deeper, something dark that you recognized because you felt it too. Your hands clenched into fists, not because you wanted to hit him—though that was of course a tempting option—but because you wanted to stop the impulse that made you think about getting any closer than necessary.

It was a constant tug-of-war. One moment you wanted to push him into the water, make sure he disappeared from your life forever. But then, a part of you wanted to do the complete opposite, you wanted to get closer, erase the distance between you, and find out if that tension could transform into something more.

Rafe leaned against one of the dock posts, looking at you with a mix of defiance and curiosity. Everything about him seemed designed to provoke you. His gaze fixed, his shoulders relaxed but ready to move at the slightest hint of threat. It was so unbearably irritating, and yet, there was something you couldn’t ignore.

The wind blew hard, and you felt a chill run down your spine, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was that unmistakable feeling of being on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t control.

You wanted to kill him. For all the times he had made you feel less than, for every hurtful word, for every betrayal and fight. But at the same time, you wanted to get close enough to know if that spark you felt between you could catch fire.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Instead, you took a deep breath, ignoring how your heart was pounding. You turned your back on him, your steps firm on the wood of the dock as you walked away. You knew that if you stayed one more second, the line between hate and desire could blur forever. And you weren't ready to face what that meant.

You felt him stand still, watching you as you left. You didn't need to look back to know that that feeling would continue to haunt you, just as much as he did.

And you were right, a few days later that line blurred.

There was a storm that night, one of those that seemed to split the sky in two with each flash of lightning. The rain was pounding on the roof of the old abandoned cabin where you had taken shelter, trying to escape the chaos that the Pogues and Rafe had caused in the last gold hunt. Your hands were shaking with rage, not so much from the cold, but from the frustration of knowing that Rafe had, once again, gotten you into this situation.

You were alone, at least that's what you thought, until you heard the door slam open. You turned quickly, looking for something to defend yourself with, but seeing that unmistakable figure enter soaked to the bone, your heart stopped.

Rafe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you thought, although you didn't bother to say it out loud.

He slammed the door behind him hard, shaking off the water like a rabid dog. His dark hair, and his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, as if he had run a marathon. His gaze met yours almost immediately, filled with that mix of fury and something more that always seemed to burn between you.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t look away either. There was something about him that night, something different. It wasn’t just the usual anger you two shared, or even the constant tension that seemed to surround you like a force field. It was something rawer, more real.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the roar of the storm outside. You felt the air in the cabin grow thicker, charged with electricity, as if lightning was about to strike right there.

“What? Are you just going to stand there staring at me like an idiot?” You had crossed your arms, trying to hide the trembling that ran through your body.

He didn’t answer, but he took a step towards you, slow, deliberate. You could feel the intensity of his gaze fixed on you, as if he could see past the facade you always tried to maintain. Your heart began to beat faster, and you hated that he had that effect on you.

“Rafe, don’t start,” you warned yourself mentally, even though you weren’t sure what it was you wanted to avoid.

But he kept coming closer. You could see every detail of his face now: the raindrops sliding down his jaw, the way his lips were pressed together as if he were holding something back. His presence filled the small space between you, and suddenly, the hatred you’d always felt for him didn’t seem enough to explain what was happening.

You didn’t know who made the first move. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but in an instant, the distance disappeared. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer to him with a force that made you gasp. His mouth crashed into yours with an intensity that left you breathless, as if all that pent-up rage had finally found an outlet.

Your hands clutched at his wet shirt, trying to push him away and pull him in at the same time. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t tender. It was an explosion of everything you had bottled up for years: the hatred, the frustration, the attraction that neither of you wanted to admit.

You felt his body press against yours, trapping you between him and the wall of the cabin. His breath was hot against your skin, mixing with the cold of the storm that continued to rage outside. His every move seemed to call out something you didn’t know you’d been holding back, and for a moment, you let yourself go.

But it was only a moment.

Suddenly, you pulled away, your hands on his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“This… can’t happen.” Your voice was barely a whisper, shaky but firm.

He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you said it all. There was something in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, something vulnerable that completely disarmed you.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside the cabin, all was calm. Rafe didn’t try to come closer again, and you didn’t dare look him in the eye as you turned away, your heart pounding so hard you felt like it might explode.

After that night in the cabin, something changed, though you both tried to act like it hadn’t. That first time was an accident, you kept telling yourself, something driven by rage and storm. But what happened next made it clear that there was something more, something that went far beyond hatred or tension.

It wasn’t long before you met again. It was in one of the alleys behind The Wreck, where you had hidden yourself after a fight with Sarah and the others. Rafe appeared as if the universe was conspiring against you. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you with that mix of arrogance and determination that seemed to be part of his essence.

“You’re not here to worry about me, Cameron. What do you want?” you had snapped harshly, crossing your arms as if that physical barrier could protect you.

He didn’t answer right away, but the glint in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. What followed was just as impulsive as the first time: his lips finding yours with a burning urgency, your hands clinging to his shirt as if the world could fall apart at that moment and you wouldn’t care.

Logic disappeared when you were with him. All you had left were pure emotions: desire, rage, need. In those moments, you didn't think about the past or what was coming next. You didn't think about the fights, the betrayals, or the reasons why you were supposed to hate him. There was only his hands on your skin, the sound of his breathing, and the way he managed to make you forget everything else.

But the next day, there was always something that reminded you why you hated him. Like that time you saw him bullying Pope at the dock, his overbearing attitude making it clear that the Rafe of last night and the Rafe of today were two sides of the same coin.

"You're an asshole," you had yelled at him later, when you faced him away from the others.

He shrugged, as if he didn't care, but his gaze searched yours, almost defiant.

"Don't expect me to change for you," he seemed to say without words.

You walked away furiously, promising yourself that this would be the last time. You couldn’t keep falling for that game, not when he was still the same cruel boy you’d known all your life.

But then, something always drew you back. Like when he found you after you were almost caught in one of John B’s crazy antics. He helped you escape, even covering for you when the Kooks passed by. It was an unexpected gesture, one that left you bewildered as you shared a moment of calm on an old boat hidden in the swamp.

“Thanks, I guess,” you’d told him, though your words were filled with skepticism.

He smirked, the kind of smile that always got on your nerves.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

But you thought about it. Every gesture of his, every glance, every clandestine kiss was etched into your memory, fueling a cycle you couldn’t break.

Of course, you had your part in that dynamic, too. There were times when your own actions infuriated him, like the time you stole information from him about the gold hunt and shared it with the Pogues. His reaction was explosive: he found you on the dock, his gaze filled with betrayal and fury.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

For a moment you thought he would leave you there, that this would be the end. But no. Even though you had betrayed him, even though you had defied him in every way possible, he always came back. Just like you came back to him.

[keikikait]

ᴛʜᴏʀᴏᴜɢʜꜰᴀʀᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.7k

summary: rafe helps you after your car breaks down

warnings: dead dove, do not eat. stalker!rafe, smut? (it's just masturbation + some suggestive stuff), rafe is obsessed, please read at your own discretion!, innocent(ish)!reader, again, stalker!rafe, manipulation, rafe gets the reader high on coke (she agrees, but he thinks some weird things), idk anything ab cars but i tried, also i've never done cocaine but i tried to do some research

a note: happy halloween.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You didn't understand what was wrong with your car.

No matter how many times you took it to an auto shop, how much money you spent, it kept breaking down. Your check engine light would come on at the most random times, even after just getting it fixed the day before.  You were spending all of your money on trying to fix your clunker, a 1993 Lexus LS400 that your father was certain was a waste of time. In the long run, it would be cheaper to buy a new car, but you loved it too much to say goodbye. The AC was surprisingly cold, providing much needed relief for the hot North Carolinian summers. It didn't take much to fill it up, and you had beau coups of trunk space. It was your car and that's all that mattered to you.

You had decided to take your car to a different auto shop, across the thoroughfare onto the mainland. You had thought that a fresh pair of eyes would keep you from coming back the week after because your transmission was shot again. The mechanic was able to fix your transmission in no time, sending you off on your way with a hefty bill. It was raining, a summer thunderstorm on the horizon, and you couldn't wait to get home.

You had just passed over the thoroughfare back onto Kildare when your car started to rumble and shake. You feel like screaming as you pull over, banging your palms on the steering wheel. Your car rumbles and shakes, smoke billowing out of the hood. You reach behind your seat and grab your raincoat, putting it on and putting the hood up. You grab your phone and turn on the flashlight, reaching down to pull back the lever to pop the hood. Afterwards, you step out, pulling your hood tight over your head as you lift the hood and prop it up. You look around, waving the smoke away from your face, but you don't even know what you're looking for.

Gravel crunches behind you as another car approaches, casting a shadow over your hood. You freeze, sliding your phone open to the emergency call. You look over your shoulder as someone climbs out. 

Rafe Cameron, Kook prince of Kildare, in his own navy blue raincoat. He raises his eyebrows, a small smirk on his face. “Having car troubles?”

You tense up a little. You knew Rafe, of course you did, but your interactions with him were few and far in between. You were on the sidelines for most of his problems with JJ, John B, and Pope, not wanting to piss off the most powerful man in the Outer Banks. You finally find your voice, fidgeting with the sleeves of your raincoat. “Yeah. I just got it fucking fixed, too.” You sigh.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips as he looked at you. He had noticed you long before you had even crossed paths, but now, here you were. Standing in the rain, soaked and shivering. He walked over, joining you at your side, and he glanced into your engine, not even pretending to be able to fix it. “You know... this old clunker is gonna cost you more in the long run than if you just got rid of it. Might as well cut your losses while you can, angel.”

Your stomach flips at the nickname, but you ignore it. “It’s my car, Rafe, I can’t just like…abandon her.”

He chuckled, his gaze moving from the hood of your clunker to your face. Your big pretty eyes, your cheeks already beginning to flush from the cold rain. He stepped closer, pushing against the hood so it was angled more, blocking your view of the world around. He leaned against it, crossing his arms, and he stared down at you. “You can, you just don't want to. There's a difference. You like this thing. You're attached.”

You sigh again. “Well duh, Rafe, it’s my only car. I know that concept is hard for you to understand.”

“Is that any way to talk to someone who could help you?” Rafe asks, taking a step back. He glances under the hood again, although he’s just as clueless as you. 

“Help me?” You ask.

He looks over at you again, his expression blank. “I’m a pretty powerful guy, you know. It wouldn’t take much to… oh, I don’t know, maybe find you a newer car. Or,” his lips twitch up into his signature smirk. “Just pay for the repairs.”

“I don’t want to take your money, you know.” You say, crossing your arms.

“Why not?” He asks with a scoff. “It’s just money, angel. I have plenty.”

You sigh. You really don’t want to do this with him. “Look, just…thank you for stopping to check on me. I’m just gonna call a tow truck and wait out the rain.”

He watched as you turned to your phone, a heavy frown settling on his lips. That wasn’t going to do. Rafe suddenly reaches out, grabbing your wrist. “Or—“ he speaks before you’re able to dial, his touch firm but not bruising. “You could just come with me.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“But I want to,” he says. “It’s raining, you’re cold and alone, and you’re gonna wait on a tow truck who may not show up for hours. Your little car is about to get flooded. Come on, sweetheart.“

You hesitate, reaching over to put the hood of your car back down. “I don’t know, Rafe. I feel bad, you know? Making you drive me all the way to The Cut.”

“It’s nothing for me.” He says, gently tugging on your wrist to guide you toward his car. He looks at you from the side, his gaze taking in your worried expression, and he lets out a soft sigh. “You’re cute when you’re being stubborn, angel. But it’s unnecessary.”

You sigh. His truck did beat walking. “Fine. Lemme get my stuff.”

Rafe lets go of your wrist, watching you as you dig through your front seat, grabbing everything important. He crosses his arms over his chest, pulling the hood forward as his eyes run over your body, stopping on your ass, head tilting as he admires the way your jeans hug your body. He bites the inside of his lip, wondering what you would look like bent over his lap with two red handprints on your ass, slightly bruised from where his rings would catch the skin. 

Did he feel bad about constantly fucking with your car? A little bit. 

But was he happy that he now had you all to himself? Of course he was.

You were Rafe’s obsession, ever since he first met you a year and a half ago. He, at first, tried so hard to forget you, the little Pogue girl that had the sheer audacity to be friends with his least favourite person in the world, Pope, but as the days passed, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He started out by just thinking about you every so often, occasionally glancing in the direction of The Boneyard when he drove past, hoping he would see you in a bikini. 

Then, he started thinking about you every day, which turned into every night. He would lay on his bed, back against his headboard, and stroke his cock while scrolling through your Instagram feed. Just one look at you would send him close to cumming, and he can’t count how many times he’s cummed in his pants just from seeing you around Kildare. You had a few bikini pics taken from all angles, but his favourite ones were the ones of you smiling at the camera. Rafe has a favourite photo to jerk off to, something that sends him cumming all over his fingers after a few strokes. It’s a photo of you, taken from a high up angle, looking into the camera with your big beautiful eyes, holding a lollipop in your mouth. 

He loves it so much, it’s even his phone’s wallpaper.

Rafe wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to consume you, turn you inside out and fill you with just him. You didn’t need anyone else. You had him, even if you didn’t know it.

You shove your registration and some other important documents from your glove compartment into your bag, shutting and locking the door. You unzip your jacket, sliding the bag between your body and the fabric to try to keep it protected from the rain. You join Rafe back at his truck, climbing into the passenger seat. His car is neat, surprisingly, with only a tube of Aquaphor in one of his cupholders. Hanging from his rearview mirror, along with a car air freshener, is a Polaroid photo of him with his youngest sister Wheezie. There was also photo of you, which was now scurried away in his centre console, buried under a packet of Wet Wipes. He didn’t think you would appreciate that gesture, even though he did, and he didn’t want to scare you off.

Rafe takes the bags from you, carefully placing it on the floor of the backseat, his eyes running over you as you settle into the seat. His hands were shaking slightly as the starts the car and puts it in drive. He couldn’t believe this actually worked. He had been following you all day, tracking your phone as he kept his distance in his car. 

You didn’t even notice when he cloned your phone. Rafe had been tracking your every move for months, reading every single text and listening in on every single conversation. He knew it would freak you out if you found out, but he was just trying to protect you! You didn’t realise it, but you needed him. He was protecting you from the scumbags who were trying to date you. You were so sweet, too sweet, and he didn’t want one of those dirty Pogue bastards to take advantage of you. He had planned on making his move with you anyway, but your car breaking down was a gift from the gods. They were placing you right into his calloused hands.

The rain splatters against the windshield with a low tap tap tap, a steady rhythm that keeps the silence from feeling completely unnerving. The air is warm, the heat turned up high, and Rafe looks at you as he buckles his seat belt. “You better thank me.” His smirk is back, a wicked curl at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes. “Thank you, Rafe.”

He chuckles, glancing away from you briefly as he puts one hand on the wheel. “That wasn’t very convincing, angel…” His gaze returns to you, moving over the slope of your nose, your neck, down to where the rain has made your shirt cling to your chest. His mouth is dry, making it hard to swallow, and his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel.

You look up at him, your head tilted towards him, your eyes big. “Thank you, Rafe.”

His smirk falters, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of your big doe eyes staring up at him. He bites the inside of his lip, staring down at you. He can’t believe that you were really right here, that he had you trapped right in his own little cage. There was something about seeing you look so innocent that made him want to ruin you. His breathing starts to come a bit harder, the urge to grab you and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe with your wrists tied behind your back making his entire body ache. He clears his throat before putting the car into drive, pulling off of the side of the road, heading back towards Kildare.

You notice his heavy breathing and his tight grip on the steering wheel. Your eyebrows furrow. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums, clearing his throat. His grip loosens on the steering wheel, clenching his fingers to alleviate the ache. He forces himself to relax his grip, taking a deep breath. After a moment passes, and the silence is heavy on his shoulders, he glances over at you again. “You ever done drugs, angel?”

You rub your lips together. You could be honest with him, right? “Yeah, once.”

His gaze runs over your face as you speak. God, you’re so fucking innocent, it was intoxicating. “Once?” he echoes, tilting his head slightly. “That’s adorable. What drug was it? Pot? I can’t see you doing anything hard core, angel.”

“Yeah, it was weed,” You say. “JJ got his hands on some, and he let me have a few hits.”

He glances over at you again, his fingers clenching as he tries to not show his jealousy. He hated all of your little Pogue friends, JJ included. He didn’t like the idea of you getting high with JJ -- becoming vulnerable. What if JJ took advantage of you? Rafe clears his throat, looking back at the road. “That’s cute, angel. Was that your first and only time?”

“Yeah,” You say, shifting in the seat. “I just… I don’t know if it’s my thing, you know? I had a pretty bad high. I thought I was dying.”

His lips twitched, trying to keep his temper under control. He had just gotten you into his car, he couldn’t scare you away. Of course that fucker JJ had a hand in your bad experience, he probably gave you too much and didn’t take good care of you. He would never do that to you. He would give you the perfect intro into the wonderful world of drugs. “That’s because he gave you too much, angel. A beginner should never go too far their first time. You need to start small, so you don’t have a bad experience. It’s all about moderation.”

You look over at him. “Well, it’s technically my fault. I took too many hits.”

Rafe laughs softly, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He glances over at you, his gaze roaming over you slowly, from head to toe, and back to your face. He had already decided that he was going to give you something, just to see you experience it. “What did it feel like? Being high.”

“I liked it,” You say. “I was laughing a lot, until I started feeling like I was dying. I don’t know, the floaty feeling… it was nice, you know?”

He hums, his lips curling into a slight smirk. He could only imagine what you would be like, all loose and relaxed, a giggly high. He wonders what it would be like to kiss you when you were high, how compliant you would be, unable to stop him. His mind starts to wander, thinking about the look in your eyes as he pushes his cock into you, all woozy and out of it. “Would you ever smoke weed again?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You say. “Just wouldn’t do it with JJ in the middle of The Boneyard again.”

“Good,” he says with a firm nod. He glances over at you again, the smirk still playing on his lips. His gaze is dark, his pupils dilated. He was itching for the right opportunity to show you something better, something that could get you addicted, addicted to him. “Would you ever try anything harder?” Rafe pulls to a stop at the red light. Turning left would bring you to the north side of Kildare, where Figure 8 is, while turning right would bring you to the south side, towards The Cut.

You hesitate. “I don’t know, Rafe. I would want to do it in a safe space, you know? Not at like a party or anything.”

He hums, turning right when the light turns green. “A safe space, huh?” He glances over at you, biting his lip. His eyes trace your face, how sweet and innocent you looked, and his mind was suddenly made up. He was going to introduce you to the most euphoric feeling of your life, and he was going to take care of you as you felt it. “What about if we did it? Just you and me.”

You shift in the seat again. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut, like something is telling you to run. “Do you just… have cocaine lying around?”

The light turns green. The car doesn’t move.

His lips twitch again, and his fingers drum at the wheel. “Yeah, angel, I actually do.” He glances over at you, noticing the way you were shifting. He could see the hesitance in your wide eyes, the look of fear. “You don't have to look so scared, sweetheart. I won't let anything bad happen to you. I'm gonna make sure you feel so good. Just trust me.”

You bite your lip, looking out the window. You had heard so much about Rafe from Pope, JJ, and John B about how psychotic, impulsive, and destructive he is, but he was being so gentle with you. You look back at him. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He turns his head, making eye contact. He knew you were scared, and it made his cock throb in his jeans. He was telling you the truth, of course, he would take care of you, and he would make sure that you liked it. He wanted you to come back to him for more and more. “You know, you really don't have to be afraid of me, angel. I'm only bad to people who do things to deserve it. I promise I'll treat you good. I will make you feel good, so long as you trust me, and do what I say. Can you do that?”

Your stomach churns. You shouldn’t do this, and you shouldn’t be in Rafe’s truck, but something about him made you want to stay. “Yeah, I can do that.”

His lips curl into a smirk, that same wicked curl as earlier. He was slowly breaking you down, making you do what he wanted, without you even realising it. He wasn't forcing you to do anything, he was just asking. How could you say no to him, when he asked you nicely? “Good girl.”

Rafe takes the left turn.

You let out a shaky breath. You were really doing this.

You look out the window as he drives through Figure 8, taking in the sights of the looming mansions. You glance back over at him as he drives straight past Tanneyhill. “Are you not there anymore?”

Rafe snorts, shaking his head. “Haven't been there in months, not since my dad died.” He glances over at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. “I'm living somewhere else now. A true bachelor.” He slows down as he turns into the driveway of a large white home that looked like one of many others that surrounded it, although, not quite as big. He pulls to a stop, pulling the keys out of the ignition and tucking them into his pockets. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

You grab your bag from the floorboards of the backseat before hopping out, quickly rushing through the downpour to the front door. Rafe easily catches up to you, his stride much longer than yours. He leads the way though, pulling his keys back out of his pocket as he shoves the front door open. He holds it open for you, gesturing with a sweep of his arm for you to head inside. “Welcome to my humble home, angel. Make yourself at home.”

You stand in the entryway, not wanting to drip water all over his real hardwood floors. “Do you have clothes I can borrow? I don’t wanna get your furniture wet.”

Rafe smirks, his gaze running over your soaking wet body, his cock throbbing at the thought of how hard your nipples must be. “I think I have something you can wear, but yeah, you really should get out of those wet clothes.” He pulls the front door shut, locking it behind you. “Come on, I’ll show you to my room.” He grabs your hand, leading you through the empty house.

You follow him through the house, taking in the minimal, neutral decor. It honestly looked like no one lived there, the walls of the house were bare, the couches were all black leather, including the recliner in the corner. There was a large white rug in the middle of a living room, covering the floor. The kitchen was to the left of the front door, although it wasn't as barren, with stainless steel appliances and cabinets. The only personal things in the house were a large flat screen TV in the living room, a framed picture of a young Rafe with baby Sarah on the kitchen counter, and a hallway of closed doors that led to the extra rooms. 

His room is just as bare, although it’s a lot messier, boxers and t-shirts litter the floor and are strewn over an armchair set up in front of his TV and PlayStation. His bedside table is covered with empty plastic water bottles, a crumpled bag of chips, and another framed photo, although this one is of him and Wheezie.

“Cute room.” You say.

“Thanks.” He says, his gaze running over you again, his eyes lingering on your chest, imagining what your nipples look like before returning to your face. He walks over to his dresser, pulling out a green T-shirt and grey sweatpants. He tosses them towards you and you catch them. “You can change in the bathroom down the hall and throw your clothes into the dryer. Just set it to quick dry, okay? Otherwise, it’ll take fucking forever.”

You smile softly, holding the clothes in your arms. “Thanks, Rafe.”

“No problem.” He says, sitting down on the edge of his bed and leaning back. He watches you as you slip down the hall, headed towards the bathroom. Rafe waits a few moments, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He had been waiting to get you alone for so long, to make you his, and now, he was so close.

But he had promised to go slow, and even though it was killing him. He didn't want you to run away.

You peel your clothes off, hanging them over the sink as you change. You dry your hair with a towel before pulling Rafe’s T-shirt over your head. It smells like him; a warm, slightly citrusy smell that makes your head spin. You step into the sweatpants and tie them around your hips. They were a big baggy, but you didn’t mind. You put your clothes into the dryer and set it to quick dry before heading back into Rafe’s bedroom. You spin in a circle, looking at him over your shoulder. “How do I look?”

Rafe had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity, trying to resist the urge to go after you. He had changed himself, putting on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. He was almost half hard and as he watches you spin around, the look in your big innocent eyes, he has to dig his fingernails into his palms to prevent himself from jumping on you. He swallows, a dry click echoing in his throat, and he licks his lips, his eyes fixed on you. “You look good.” he murmurs, his gaze travelling over your body and how his T-shirt was loose enough for him to slip a hand under it without any effort. “Are you comfy?”

You nod, fiddling with the hem of the T-shirt as you sit down on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, I’m comfy.”

Rafe’s lips tilt into a smile as he watches you fiddle with your hem. You looked so sweet, his pretty little angel, all alone with him, no one to protect you. “You don’t have to be nervous, sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re in good hands with me, I promise.” He scoots a little closer, looking down at you with his big blue eyes, his lips mere inches from yours. “Do you still want to do it?” God, please say yes.

“Yeah, of course I do,” You say quickly. “Just haven’t done it before, so I’m nervous, you know?”

God, he was going to hell for this. “I know.” He whispers, his gaze roaming over your face, drinking in every beautiful detail. His fingers reach out, gently brushing your jaw. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, angel. I promise.” He glances away for a moment, toward his bedside, toward the bedside table where he had a small bag of coke.

Fuck. This is actually happening.

Your back straightens as you crawl closer to him on the bed, watching as he gets out the bag of coke, along with a small circular mirror.

Rafe looks back at you, his gaze darkening as he sees you come closer, closing the space between you and him. His hand trembles as he opens the bag, using the edge of his credit card to separate the white powder laid out on the mirror. He couldn’t wait to get you addicted to him. He had wanted this for so long, had wanted you for so long, and he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “You gotta promise not to be scared, angel.” He whispers, glancing over at you as he grabs the rolled up bill.

You let out a shaky breath. “Is there, um…do I have to snort it? Or is there, like, another way? I just don’t know if I can snort it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He smirks softly, his gaze travelling over you as you move even closer to him. He couldn't help but smirk slightly at your question. He was going to love this. He straightens out the lines with his credit card. “I can rub it on your gums if you want.”

You nod. “Yeah. Okay. That works.”

He grins, glancing over at you as he pushes himself back, getting comfortable against the headboard. “Come here, angel.” He grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you closer so that you’re sitting before him, between his legs. He glances at your pretty face, his gaze dark and heavy.

You’re scared. He loves it.

Rafe grabs your chin, fingers squishing into your cheeks. “Open your mouth, angel…” You oblige and he grins. “Good girl, good.” Rafe licks his pointer finger before reaching over and swiping through one of the lines. “Alright angel, last chance, do you wanna do this?”

You nod.

“Good girl.” Rafe hums, grabbing your chin as his wet finger moves from the line of coke, rubbing it along your gums. His gaze flits between yours and his hand before pulling away. You looked so fucking good, letting him take advantage of you like this. “Leave it for a moment, okay? You don't have to suck or lick, just leave it in your mouth.” Your gums tingle, the taste slightly bitter.

Rafe watches you close, leaning back once he takes his hand away. He watches you intently, watching the way your expression changes as the drug takes flight.

He was in love.

The cocaine hits you fast, and you start getting squirmy, your pupils wide and blown out. He watches your face as you react to the drug, watching how your eyes flit around and how your breath comes in deep, slightly shaky. He leans forward, grabbing your arms. “Come here, angel, sit in my lap.” You can’t do anything, letting him move you around before settling you into his lap.

His arms slide around your waist, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you against him, like a precious doll. “Does it make you feel good, angel?” He asks, leaning forward, his nose brushing against the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You smelled sweet, and you were a perfect fit in his arms, so much so that he almost didn’t want to let you go. Almost.

You nod. You felt so good. Everything was heightened so deliciously, and you melted into Rafe’s arms, letting the scent of his cologne travel through you.

“I’m so glad, angel, I wanted to make you happy.” He whispers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your jaw, his hands holding onto your hips, keeping you flush against him. He loves the way you move, how your body feels against his, how you were his. He wanted to make you want this again, and again, until you couldn’t think about anything but him, until you couldn’t go without it. Rafe kisses up your neck, hands sliding under the front of his shirt. Your eyes are fluttering and your whole body shakes as your ears start to ring. You squirm, and he grins, moving his head up. He gently bites your earlobe before whispering into your ear. 

“You did well saying yes to me.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

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[itneverendshere]

how would the cameron family react to rafe dating a pogue

Ps: ward's not a monster in this, just an asshole and shitty dad, bc my boy rafe deserves a better father figure (but i also need his daddy issues to make this work) also, didn’t know if this request was for this couple but i felt like it fitted them perfectly so here we are again 🫶���🤗

found a girl my parents love - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Rafe selfishly wanted to keep you a secret for as long as he could. 

Not because he was ashamed of you—not even close. You were his, the only person who actually got him. That part of him he never let anyone see, not his family, not his boys.

It was complicated, though, and his family didn't do "complicated" well. Especially not with a pogue. His dad would flip if he knew he was dating someone he hadn’t been personally introduced to before.

The bartender from the club, of all people. The one they’d see serving drinks to them all summer, like you didn’t exist outside those moments. That was the thing though, you did exist, more than anyone he’d ever known. You were real. That’s why he wanted to keep it just for himself. It was his one thing that no one else could touch, could ruin. Topper knew, sure, but he wasn’t going to run his mouth to Sarah after she broke his heart.

So yeah, he held on to it, kept you away from the world that would tear it down before it even had a chance to really breathe. Until Weezie stumbled into your date at the ice cream shop.

He remembered the way his heart stopped when he saw her walk in. Of all places. Of all the people. She looked at him with wide brown eyes, then at you, and then back to him like she’d just walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to see. 

And honestly? She did.

“What the hell are you doing here, Weeze?” he snapped, more out of panic than anger.

"Uh? Getting ice cream?" Her face lit up, a huge grin stretching across her cheeks. “What are you doing here? And with her?” She looked at you, her excitement bubbling over before Rafe could get a word in. “Oh my God, this is so cool! You’re dating her? Like, for real?”

You smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension rolling off him. He looked like he was seconds away from shitting himself. He could’ve killed Weezie right then and there. But instead, he just sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, well… don’t tell anyone, alright?”

“Are you kidding?” Weezie practically bounced. “I won’t say a word. Scout’s honor.” She shot you a smile before turning to leave. “But like, this is so cool.”

He scowled at her, “Stop being creepy.”

You slapped his chest, scolding him “Be nice.”

“Oh, I like her!”

She kept her word. For a little while, at least.

A few weeks later, they were all sitting around the dinner table—Ward, Sarah, Rafe, and Weezie. Rose was out doing whatever the fuck she did with her friends. Everything was going fine until Weezie, mid-conversation about nothing important, let it slip.

“I saw Rafe and his girlfriend the other day,” she said, just like it was no big deal.

Girlfriend.

Rafe froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Sarah looked like she’d just been smacked in the face.

“Girlfriend?” Sarah’s voice went up an octave. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

He shot Weezie a look that could shove her ten feet under, but it was too late. She slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing her mistake.

Ward raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “You got something to share with the family, son?”

Rafe cleared his throat, putting his fork down, already working up a sweat. He knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this one. And honestly?

Maybe it was time to stop hiding. He glanced at Sarah, who still looked at him like he was from outer space, then at his dad. He’d always given him shit about girls, all these big speeches about how none of them were ever worth bringing home unless he was serious. 

Well, he was serious.

“Yeah,” Rafe muttered, meeting his dad’s eyes. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Who?”

“She’s a pogue!”

Rafe closed his eyes, sighing as Weezie blurted the most important piece of information out. She really just dropped the biggest bomb in the most casual way possible. His dad’s expression didn’t change much, but Sarah? She was fully in shock, her jaw practically hitting the table.

“A Pogue?” Sarah repeated, like she couldn’t believe the words even existed in the same sentence as Rafe. “Are you serious? In this lifetime?”

He shot her a glare. “Yeah, a Pogue. What, is that some kind of crime?”

“What?” She shrieked, “You gave me so much shit when I dated John B!”

He clenched his jaw, his patience hanging by a thread. Of course she was going to bring up John B. She couldn’t let anything go. “That was different,” he snapped.

Sarah scoffed, folding her arms “Different? How exactly?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Because John B’s a dirtbag who had you sneaking around doing God knows what. This is—” he stopped himself, trying to find the right words. “This is different, okay? She’s not like him.”

“So, it’s okay when you date a Pogue? Got it.”

“To be fair,” Weezie chimed in, “John B smelled like shit.”

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips, even though the last thing he wanted to do was encourage her. Sarah shot Weezie a death glare, clearly not amused.

“Language,” Ward warned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I have to tell you girls? No swearing at the table.”

The room fell silent, everyone looking at Rafe like they were waiting for him to say something. His dad didn’t even look mad—if anything, he looked weirdly intrigued.

“So,” Ward said slowly, his gaze locking onto Rafe’s. “You’re serious about her then? Serious enough for me to meet her?”

Rafe swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

“Alright. Let’s make that happen then.”

He blinked, completely thrown off. “What?”

Ward’s response was calm, almost too calm. “If you’re serious about this girl, then it’s time I meet her.”

Rafe just stared at him, unsure if he’d heard that right. His dad wasn’t angry? Was he impressed? Or was this some kind of setup?

“You... wanna meet her?” he repeated, like he needed the words to make sense.

His dad’s expression wasn’t the usual stone wall of judgment. “I’ve always said if it’s not serious, don’t bother bringing her around. You’re saying she’s important to you, right?”

“Uh, yeah…” Rafe’s voice trailed off, still half-expecting this to somehow turn into a lecture or some Ward Cameron test. “She is.”

He nodded, like he was already planning it. “Alright then, set it up. I’ll meet her.”

He couldn’t tell if this was a win or if he’d just walked into something he wasn’t prepared for. His whole plan was to avoid this exact conversation. He looked across the table, expecting Sarah to be just as blindsided as he was, but she was still stuck on one detail.

“You’re dating a Pogue,” she muttered, shaking her head like she couldn’t get past that fact. “I just… wow.”

Rafe shot her a glare. “Get over it.”

Weezie, always the little instigator, grinned. “She was cool.”

“Okay, so… when do I get to meet her?” Sarah’s brown eyes widened with curiosity. “Is she cute? What’s she like?”

This wasn’t how he thought the night was going to go at all. 

An hour later, he was lying in bed, staring at his phone, his mind still spinning from dinner. He pulled up your contact, hesitating for a second before hitting the FaceTime button. The screen flashed for a moment, and then there you were, all cozy in your own bed, unaware of what was about to hit.

“Hi baby,” you chirped, clearly happy to see him, “What’s up? You look stressed.”

Rafe rubbed his face, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, well, uh—something happened at dinner tonight.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion, tilting the phone closer to you. “What? Did Sarah say something dumb again?”

“Nah, worse,” he muttered. “Weezie... Weezie kinda let it slip. About us.”

Your eyes widened immediately. “Wait, what? She told them?!”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a low chuckle at the memory of the whole dinner spiraling out of control. “Just dropped it casually like it was no big deal. Sarah freaked out, and my dad—" He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “He wants to meet you.”

For a second, you didn’t say anything. You just blinked, processing his words. 

“Wait... Ward Cameron wants to meet me? As in, your dad?”

“Yeah,” He mumbled, almost sheepishly. “He’s all, ‘If you’re serious, I should meet her,’ or some shit. Like it’s no big deal.”

You sat up straight, your heart racing. “Rafe, that is a big deal! What the hell do you mean he wants to meet me?!” Your voice rose, panic starting to take over. “Oh my God, I didn’t even think about having to meet your dad. I figured we’d just— I don’t know—figure it out later!”

Rafe winced, knowing this would freak you out. He tried to keep his voice calm, even though he wasn’t exactly calm himself. “Baby, it’s not like tomorrow or anything. We can plan it out.”

But you were already spiraling. “Your dad’s gonna take one look at me— What if he hates me? What if he tells you I’m not worth it, and then—” you paused, your voice breaking slightly, “What if you start to believe him?”

His stomach clenched at your words. He sat up, the phone now held closer to his face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. What are you even talking about?”

You bit your lip, your thoughts running wild. “I mean... what if he convinces you that I’m not good enough? What if you start seeing me differently? You know how your dad is—he could talk you out of this, talk you out of us.”

Rafe shook his head, almost angry that you’d even think that way. “Are you serious right now? No way in hell is that happening. I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks. You’re the one I’m with because I want to be with you.”

You sighed, your nerves still rattled. “But what if he tries to get in your head? You always talk about how much pressure he puts on you. What if he—”

He cut you off, his voice firm, assertive. “Look, I’m serious about you. I told him that tonight. It doesn’t matter what he says, because you’re the one I love. No one’s changing my mind about that. Not even Ward fucking Cameron.” His eyes softened a little. “I already met your sister. This is just the next step, yeah? It’s us. We’re solid.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He hated this—hated that the idea of meeting his dad was making you feel like this, but he couldn’t blame you. Ward was intimidating even on his best days, and this was not going to be one of those days.

“You’re not gonna throw up,” he said, trying to calm you down, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

You shook your head, running a hand through your bed hair. “What if I say something dumb? What if I screw up, and he hates me, and then everything goes downhill? I’m not, like... your people. You know that.”

His jaw clenched, hating the way you thought of yourself like that. “Don’t say that,” he scolded, “You’re exactly my people. You’re my person.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No ‘buts.’” He cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Listen to me. My dad’s opinion doesn’t change anything. He’s not gonna make me see you any differently. You’re still gonna be the same girl I’m crazy about, no matter what he says or doesn’t say. Got it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to believe him. “It’s just—I don’t know, Rafe. I don’t fit into that world, and what if he sees that right away?”

He hated that you felt this way, hated that his dad had this kind of power hanging over the two of you. “You don’t need to fit into his world, okay? You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Your lips quivered, and for a second, he thought you might start crying. He could feel the panic rolling off of you through the phone, and it hit him hard—he hadn’t realized just how terrified you were of this.

“What if he really doesn’t think I’m good enough for you?” You whispered, almost like you were scared to say it out loud.

Rafe’s heart clenched, and without thinking, he shot up out of bed, pacing his room like he needed to burn off the frustration

“You’re more than good enough for me.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away for a second like you were trying to compose yourself.

“I just don’t want him to—I don’t know? To make you feel like you have to choose between me and your family.”

He stopped pacing, his grip tightening on the phone. “If it ever came to that? I’d choose you. Every fucking time.”

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “Rafe—”

“I mean it,” he said, cutting you off again. “I’m not letting my dad, or anyone else, get in the way. I don’t care if he’s Ward Cameron or the president of the United States. He’s not gonna run my life, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you. And nothing my dad says or thinks is gonna change that. Ever.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall over. Not because you were scared anymore, but because of him. Because of how much he cared. How much he loved you, even when you were spiraling.

He was staring at the screen, concern written all over his face, brows furrowing, "Wait, are you crying?" His voice softened, like he wasn’t sure how to handle you like this, but he knew he wanted to. He needed to.

You quickly rubbed at your eyes, laughing to try and cover up the tears, "No, no, I just— got something in my eye." Your laugh was shaky, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

He didn’t say anything for a second, just watched you with that loving look of his that made you want to bawl your eyes out even harder. He saw right through you. He always did.

“You know,” he finally said, “You don’t have to worry about all that shit. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s when you almost lost it. Because wow. No one had ever said something like that to you before, not until him. Never like that, like he really meant it, like you were the most important thing in his world.

You sniffed, trying to laugh it off again, but it just came out all soft and broken. “I’m just—” you paused, not even sure how to explain how you were feeling, “I’m not used to this. Like, you... caring this much. Loving me like this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he leaned a little closer to the screen, “I’m not stopping.”

“I know. I love you too.”

It was real now.

Meeting the Camerons wasn’t something you could avoid anymore, but at least you knew you had Rafe, a hundred percent.

“You still freaking out?” he asked, though his tone was lighter, like he knew the answer.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’ll get over it.”

“Good,” he said, his smirk returning. “Because I kinda need you around.”

“Kinda?”

He grinned, dimples framing his face, “Okay, a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Rafe hadn’t said a word the entire drive, which was already freaking you out more than you wanted to admit. His knuckles were white, tight around the steering wheel. His jaw was locked, teeth grinding together and you’d caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye at least three times in the past minute.

Your heart was hammering, stomach in knots, and you were starting to wonder if you might actually throw up by the time you got to Tannyhill.

“Baby, seriously, if we crash into a tree ‘cause you’re having a silent meltdown over there, that’s not gonna help either of us.”

He blinked, finally loosening his grip on the wheel. “Sorry. I’m just—fuck, I don’t know.”

You tried to smile, but it felt weak. “Yeah, me too. I feel like I’m walking into some kind of corporate job interview I didn’t apply for.”

Rafe snorted. “Yeah, except the CEO’s a control freak and the company’s, I don’t know, cursed or something.”

That made you laugh, a short, nervous laugh, but still. You appreciated the attempt at humor, even if the nerves in your stomach weren’t going anywhere.

“So, uh... game plan?” you asked, half-joking, but mostly serious. “Am I supposed to shake his hand? Call him Mr. Cameron? Or is it more of a ‘hey, what’s up, Ward?’ situation?”

Rafe finally cracked a grin, shaking his head. “God, I don’t know. Don’t call him Ward; that might send him into some power trip. But definitely don’t call him Mr. Cameron either, ‘cause that’ll just make it weird.”

“Great, so I’ll just go with ‘Hi’ and hope I don’t trip over my own feet.”

“Perfect,” Rafe deadpanned, glancing over at you, “Just be yourself. He’s not as bad as you think. Mostly.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Mostly?”

Rafe’s lips pressed together. "He's not gonna throw you out or anything. And if he does, we’re leaving together. But Sarah...”

“Sarah,” you groaned, leaning your head back against the seat. You’d barely met Sarah, and from what you could tell, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about Rafe’s choice in girlfriends.

“Just don’t let her get to you,” Rafe muttered, his hand reaching for yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “She’s just mad because I used to make John B’s life a living hell.”

“Define hell.”

Rafe smirked, his fingers still interlaced with yours. "I mean, I threw him off a boat once," he said casually, like that wasn’t one of the most insane things you’d ever heard.

You blinked. “You what?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road, like it was no big deal. “He was running his mouth about me."

You stared at him in disbelief, “And you think I’m the one who needs to be worried?”

He laughed, finally loosening up a little, “Relax, baby. I’m not throwing you off anything.”

“So she’s not mad about me? She’s just mad about the double standard?”

“Yeah.”

That made it a little easier to breathe.

The silence settled back in for a moment as you pulled up to Tannyhill. The sight of the massive estate took your breath away. You couldn’t help but feel like you were entering a completely different world now that you were here—a world that wasn’t exactly built for you.

Rafe must’ve noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of your seat a little tighter because he let out a long breath.

“Hey, it’s just a dinner. We eat, we talk, we leave. It’s not like they’re gonna put you under a microscope.”

You gave him a side-eye. “You know, I wasn’t nervous until you said that.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Shit. Sorry.”

The car came to a stop, and you could see the flicker of lights through the windows of the house. The pressure in your chest was building, but Rafe turned toward you, his hand cupping your face.

“Listen,” his blue eyes locked on yours, “I don’t care what happens in there. You’ve got me. If anyone makes you feel like you don’t belong, we’re out. Promise.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, stroking his thumb across your cheek. “One word and I’ll get you out.”

You kissed his palm, “I know.”

“Okay.” he muttered, then pulled away, giving one final deep breath before turning off the ignition. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both stepped out of the car, Rafe knocked once, and within seconds, it swung open to reveal Sarah standing there in all her kook-with-pogue -tendencies glory.

“Well, well,” she smirked, eyes narrowing at you two.

Rafe shot her a sharp look, “Knock it off.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let you in. “I’m kidding. Kinda.” She turned her attention to you, and you could feel her sizing you up, looking completely unfazed as she led the two of you further into the house. "Dad’s in the study. He’s waiting."

Your heart skipped a beat at that. Waiting? What did that even mean?

Rafe must have felt your nerves spike because he reached for your hand again, squeezing it as you followed Sarah down the long hallway.

The house felt even bigger on the inside, with its high ceilings and fancy decor. You felt out of place. But then you peeked over at Rafe, and something about the way he held your hand made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you did belong.

At least to him.

Sarah finally stopped outside a large wooden door, turning to you with an exaggerated sigh.

"Good luck.”

Rafe hesitated for a second, his hand still gripping yours tightly. "You ready?"

No. Absolutely not. But you nodded anyway. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

He pushed open the door, and there he was.

Ward Cameron, sitting behind a massive oak desk, looking as powerful and intimidating as ever. His eyes flicked up from whatever paperwork he was working on, settling on you with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Rafe," Ward said, his voice smooth and controlled, before turning his gaze to you. "And you must be... her."

You swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to say something, anything. "Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Mr. Cameron."

You immediately regretted it. Mr. Cameron? It sounded too formal, too awkward.

Ward didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, he looked amused. He stood up, coming around the desk to get a better look at you. His eyes scanned over you briefly, but it wasn’t the cold, judgmental look you’d expected. Instead, it felt more like... curiosity.

"So, you’re the girl my son’s been so serious about."

You nodded, wanting to be anywhere but stuck in that claustrophobic room despite its size, "That’s me.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked between you and Rafe, “I hear you’re working at the Country Club.”

It wasn’t really a question—more like he already knew everything about you. Oh. You didn’t like that, knowing that someone else was snooping around for dirt on you. At least it sounded like that was the plan.

You managed a nod, trying to keep your voice from sounding too hushed. “Yeah, I’ve been working there for a while.”

His expression didn’t really give anything away, but the way he looked at you, was unnerving. Rafe’s hand squeezed yours, reminding you that, no matter what, he had your back. One word and you were out.

“Good,” Ward finally said, “I like that you work.” He sneaked a stern look at your boyfriend before turning his attention back to you. “He could use some of that drive.”

Wait. What?

You hadn’t expected that. You thought maybe he’d grill you or give you the whole ‘what are your intentions with my son’routine. But no, he was... complimenting you? It had to be some kind of set up.

“Dad—” Rafe started, clearly not expecting that either, but Ward cut him off with a raised hand.

“No, seriously.” His eyes were back on you, and there was almost a smile there, like he was actually impressed. “It’s a good quality. I respect people who work hard, people who don’t just expect things to be handed to them. And from what I’ve heard, you’re one of those people.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

Ward Cameron? Complimenting you? Was this real life? You’d walked in here prepared for a full-on interrogation, and instead, he was... encouraging.

“I just hope some of that rubs off on my son,” Ward added, shooting Rafe a look, and you swore there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “He could stand to work a little harder. He’s always been a bit lazy.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing over at Rafe. He was glaring at his dad, but you could tell he wasn’t really pissed, just...embarrassed. You found it endearing.

“Thanks, Dad,” Rafe mumbled.

“I like it. Maybe you’ll inspire him to work a little harder.”

You blinked. Wait, was this actually happening? Did Ward Cameron, of all people, just say he liked you? This whole night felt like it was gonna be a disaster, and now... maybe it wasn’t gonna be so bad. You hoped so.

You really wanted his family to like you, you felt like you owned him at least trying.

“You know," Ward began, "I wasn't always the man you see standing here today." His voice took on a reflective tone, and you could sense the change in the atmosphere as he prepared to tell his story. "I grew up on the Cut, just like a lot of those kids you see around he, like you,” Ward said, almost casually, but you could tell it wasn’t a casual thing for him. "Back then, I didn’t have much. But I worked my ass off to get out of that place. I didn’t have a name, no wealth behind me. What I have now? I built that from the ground up. No one handed me anything."

Rafe, who had been quiet up until now, let out a small, barely audible sigh, shifting uncomfortably beside you. You took a quick glance at him and caught the unmistakable eye-roll he tried to hide.

Clearly, this wasn’t the first time Ward had given this speech. But at the same time, you could tell he was relieved that his dad wasn’t tearing into you. That had to count for something, right?

Ward, oblivious or perhaps just unfazed by his son’s reaction, continued, his voice gaining momentum like he was giving you some kind of motivational speech. "It wasn’t easy. There were plenty of times when I could’ve given up, but I didn’t. I pushed through, made connections, took risks. That’s how you get ahead. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes. Now look where I am—" He gestured around at the lavish room, the estate itself practically a testament to his success. "I built an empire. Something real. Something that can last."

You nodded politely, unsure if you were supposed to say something. Rafe’s obvious eye-rolling and silent huffs of frustration beside you made it clear that he’d heard all this a hundred times before. He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms, clearly waiting for his dad to wrap it up.

But Ward wasn’t done yet. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The point is," he said, his tone softening a little, "I respect people who are willing to work for what they want. I see that in you. It’s not about where you start—it’s about where you’re going."

Rafe let out a short, quiet breath that you might’ve missed if you weren’t sitting right next to him. He shot you a small, knowing smile, almost like he was apologizing for the speech but also relieved that Ward wasn’t being an asshole.

You squeezed his hand under the table. At least his dad wasn’t tearing you down.

"Thanks, Mr. Cameron," you said, finally finding your voice. "I really appreciate that."

He nodded, seeming satisfied with himself. "Just remember," he added, his voice lowering as if he was giving you some kind of life lesson, "Hard work pays off. You keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll get somewhere. Don’t ever settle, not even for him.”

“Thanks again.”

Rafe looked like he was about to explode from how much he was holding back, but he just gave you a quick wink as if to say, Yeah, this is typical dad, but hey—he likes you, so we’re good.

Ward clapped his hands together, the moment of sincerity quickly passing. "Alright, well, I think dinner’s ready. Shall we?"

He strode ahead, leading the way out of the study and toward the dining room, leaving you and Rafe a few steps behind. The moment he was out of earshot, you looked up at Rave, “You think we’re good?”

He smirked, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes, his tone all teasing. “Baby, I think he might build you a pedestal.” 

You couldn’t help but snort, trying to keep your voice down as you followed Ward. “Really? After that ‘self-made empire’ speech?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, giving you a knowing look. “Trust me, if you got through that and he didn’t start questioning your entire existence, you’re golden. The man sees himself in anyone who works hard enough to breathe without permission.”

You bit back a laugh, gripping his hand as you walked down the long hallway. “Yeah, I was getting that vibe.”

His grin grew wider, his thumb skimming over your knuckles. “And look, usually, it’s a full-blown interrogation by now. You’re good.”

You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised. “Really?”

Rafe nodded. “Oh yeah. Sarah’s brought home guys before and it was... rough.” He shook his head, “He actually likes you. That’s rare.”

Maybe things with the Camerons were actually going to be okay.

[xoluvx]

idk if you have seen the clip but there was this video i saw on twitter where it was at this party and billie was either twerking or getting twerkerd on.

i think billie was twerking but like she wasn’t bent over or anything it was just like she shook her as you know?

but it made me think what if billie met reader at a party and you know they flirt and reader twerks on billie and soon it leads to billie taking reader home and take reader to POUUNNDTOOWWNNN (im writing this while listening to a bunch of Chase Atlantic songs 😭😭)

btw can i be this anon-🐌

ofc you can be my little snail (lmao) and yes um yes please i’d like to reside in poundtown with billie 🙂

the drinks may have rushed to your head a little too quickly. you'd come to that conclusion after finding yourself dancing on none other than billie motherfucking eilish when you hadn't even wanted to come to this thing. your friends had to practically drag you here. you had to make a mental note to thank them tomorrow once you were thinking straight because right now your head was flooded with gay thoughts.

all of them involving the brunette you were dancing on. her hands were on your hips. ass grinding on her. she'd pulled herself closer, chin on your shoulder as her lips brushed your cheek. you leaned back into her. lips parted as you held her head close to your neck. you were feeling so hot and hungry. hungry for her lips, for her touch, for her everything.

it was no surprise that your bodies would later stumble into her room. your clothes would leave a trail that marked your steps. her hands would be on your hips pulling you closer as you moaned in her mouth. your lips would be so sloppy on hers just wanting to eat her alive.

it was no surprise that you were now on all fours. face down on her bed. ass up in the air as she thrusted into you. her fingers digging into your ass pulling you down against her cock as you gasped for air. your brows furrowed with pleasure. your throat dry from crying out her name.

she pounded into you grunting each time she hit the back of your thighs. the sound of your skin slapping, your faltering cries and her guttural groans were sending you into outer space. you were fisting the sheets, your eyes shut so hard you were seeing colors and flashing lights. you could feel yourself growing tighter. the overwhelming tingles ran down your legs as you curled your toes.

"billie-" you whined using every ounce of your strength to utter her name.

billie held your shoulder burying her cock in your cunt. your whimpers muffled by the mattress. you were so close. so fucking close you were shaking. the touch of her hand on your bare shoulder was so powerful just like her thrusts that had you drooling on the bed sheets.

"yeah?" billie's voice was teasing and rung in your ear. her breath so warm against your skin. you didn't have the strength to talk. you just moaned through the pleasure biting your lip. billie buried her face in the nook of your neck. her own moans seeping into your skin as she ground her hips. her cock hitting all the right places. you were going to cum.

when she kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear, you got the reassurance. you allowed yourself to unravel on her cock. her hands holding your body securely as you convulsed and gasped for air. eyes shut. lips parted. only the most erotic moans spilling from your lips as you both fell on the bed sweaty and still so in lust.

[sweetiesicheng]

dino - drunk

word count : 645

-

"is that channie?" you ask when you notice a guy, who looks exactly like your boyfriend, walking through the house. you giggle, "he looks exactly like my channie."

"jesus christ, how are you not sober yet? did someone give you more alcohol?" seungkwan questions and grabs one of the many solo cups in front of you. he sniffs the drink and sighs, "who gave y/n more alcohol?! she's cut off! move the jungle juice somewhere else," he scolds and takes away your cup, replacing it with a cup of water.

chan walks into the kitchen and immediately goes over to you. "baby, you feeling okay?" he asks you.

"you can't call me that! you're not my channie!" you say to him and turn away. "seungkwan! help me!” you plead.

seungkwan groans in annoyance. "hey, just take her home already," he says to chan.

"i have to wait for her to sober up and realize that i’m actually myself. she’ll scream if i try to carry her," chan replies.

"hey, you!" you shout at chan, earning some attention from the people around you. "don't think about touching me! i'll throat chop you!"

chan looks around at whoever is listening, but most people already know the two of you are dating or know how you can get when you're drunk. others explain the situation to those who don’t know.

"baby..." chan sighs, "it's me. your channie," he says to you and grabs a new cup from a plastic sleeve. he pours water in from a gallon jug and places it on the table. he doesn't realize that you already have a water cup because there's about twenty cups on the table. "drink some water."

you stare at chan, trying to figure out if he is your boyfriend or not. "you're my channie?" you ask.

he smiles, "yea, it's me baby. now drink." he picks the solo cup up and puts it into your hands.

you manage to drink some water without spilling it everywhere and continue to hold the cup in your hands. chan looks around the kitchen, trying to find snacks or just something for you to nibble on. however, most of the food is already gone, and he doesn't know who lives in the house, so he doesn't want to take their snacks.

"hyung, is there anymore food?" chan asks seungkwan.

seungkwan looks over, "i think some other people ordered more pizzas, but i'm not sure," he answers before returning to a conversation with joshua.

chan goes back to you and sees you finishing the water in your cup.

"here, i got it," chan says and takes your cup from you. he pours more water into the cup for you.

"thanks," you reply. you get the cup back and drink some more. "hehe," you start laughing.

"what's so funny?" chan asks you.

"you look like my channie."

chan raises an eyebrow.

again?

"i do, huh?" chan replies. "drink some more water," he says to you. he grabs a folded up chair that is against a wall and unfolds it. he sits down next to you and turns his body to face you. "so i look like your channie?"

you nod, "yup. you're an exact copy of him." then you gasp. you lean in towards him, "are you an alien?"

chan leans in too, "an alien?" he replies.

"because you're an exact copy of him. did you come from outer space?" you question.

he shakes his head, "i'm not an alien. i'm your channie. i promise you that."

"ah, you're right. my channie would never be an alien. he's too handsome to be an alien," you say.

chan chuckles, "yea, you're right." he rests his elbow on the table and leans his head against his hand. you drink some more water as chan watches over you. he thinks to himself with a grin.

silly girl.

[strictlyfavorites]

George Carlin's wife died early in 2008 and George followed her, dying in July 2008. It is ironic George Carlin - comedian of the 70's and 80's - could write something so very eloquent and so very appropriate.

An observation by George Carlin:

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships.

These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.

Remember to spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, 'I love you' to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

And always remember, life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by those moments that take our breath away.

George Carlin

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter six: A place to belong

(Unedited, like the rest of the series)

Outer space had always been cold.

Your body didn’t suffer the effects of the temperature, yet you still felt the chill of the void on your skin. The stars and their dusts glowed around you, decorating your space in the most beautiful way that your human self could never dream of.

You thought of your family in your previous life and wondered how they were, if they were alright, if they were eating well and living well.

You also came to realize you weren’t homesick at all.

Materializing in the express and glancing at Welt made you feel a humane sense of relief in knowing you aren’t the only one who wanted to badly convey that you were safe in this new world you resided in.

Unlike Welt though, you don’t have the luxury of ever returning to what once was, or have the choice in having the best of both worlds. Your existence was cemented in this world permanently the moment you became the embodiment of a concept and a being no longer human.

You can’t turn back. It’s a little funny that though you represented freedom, you don’t have the luxury of ever returning to something simpler. You did not have the freedom to return to be the being you once were.

You can emulate human expressions, you can still feel, but you know you’re not really seeing or feeling things the way a human would anymore.

You’re not disturbed by this in the slightest.

You snapped out of your thoughts and walked towards your room then thought of how you’d decorate it— maybe something similar to a bachelor pad? No, Pompom would not be a fan. Maybe something similar to the archives? No, you’d be stealing Dan Heng’s shine.

Then you remembered cozy cabins, quilts, books, all things comfortable and got an idea.

You walked out of your room to seek Pompom and Himeko, ready to lay out your idea in personalizing that little space inside of this train— now that you think of it, it’s more of a house than anything else.

You realized having a home feels comforting more than it ought to be. As an Aeon, your home was the cosmos, the space being your cradle and the nebulas your walls; but the cosmos is hollow and cold, and it did not provide the warmth of the train, or the warmth only humans had.

While you could not go back to being what you were before, you at least had a choice in what your home should be, and what you could do.

“Himeko.” You called out to her, and she turned to you, smiling like you’re a kid that wants her company. “I have ideas to personalize my room, would you be fine if I were to be a bit loud in there for a bit?”

“I don’t mind, though you should ask Dan Heng-“

“I’m fine with it.” Dan Heng answered for her, sitting on a chair and tasting one of her coffee cups— you bit the urge to grimace at the sheer will he had to even drink that.

“Great! I’ll start when we’re on our next stop.” You said with a grin. “Herta got something heavy for us to do right? Leave it to me, think of it as a thank you and a vacation of some sorts.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to burden you.” She sounded cautious almost, even after more than eight years.

“It won’t be much. Besides, you do own this train, think of it as a courtesy— like a tenant paying rent.” You stated, “I shared this space with you for more than eight years now and I’m modifying an area to my liking, it’s only fair if you get something in return in exchange right?”

Her eyes widened, seemingly surprised. She parted her lips, as if wanting to say something but you gently shushed her, knowing what it is she wanted to say. You’ve already given your protection and blessing to the express— you didn’t even need to help, but you want to.

“[Name].” She sighed fondly. “You can do as you wish, you don’t need permission from me or anyone else.”

“Oh, isn’t asking permission how things work in a shared space though?” You tilted your head, frowning. “I know I’ve done pretty unsavory things outside of this train,” you twirled a strand of your hair, looking away as you felt Dan Heng’s questioning stare on you. “But I don’t mind having to go back and forth with this every time I want to do something inside of it. it’d be unfair for everyone here if I don’t consider their feelings in the matter, or warning them ahead of time to what I will be doing.”

“Ah, I see.” She said, nodding to let you know she understood your point with a relieved and fond smile on her face. “Very well then. I’ll tell Welt you’ll be going to fetch the materials Herta asked for on your own.”

“We’ll have fun next time I promise— ugh if only Void was dead so I could use his body.” That sounded wrong, but soulium is great to use for whatever reason— be it a weapon, a snowboard, or a pan. “Hey uh before we land…. please tell Welt that (Censored).”

With those words, you left, disintegrating from the activation of a space anchor as you saw the planet where the materials on Herta’s list were particularly abundant.

Dan Heng for once looked a little horrified, Himeko however could only sigh at your antics.

What even was your suggestion? Well, it involves using Void as a snowboard, and using his “son” as the brakes.

Those words would be horrifying enough to hear if you were a man.

“Don’t worry, they won’t do that to you.” Himeko said in an attempt to reassure him. Although it worked, the words still rang through his head.

———————————

As you hummed and gathered the materials after killing a couple of Nanook’s children, you heard bells, then giggling.

You sighed. “You’re not very subtle in showing your amusement for the shit I do you know?”

You could feel them smiling, before multitudes of masks enter your vision and the sound of party balloons fill the space at the corner of your eyes.

The Elation morphs into a human-like shape like you, and you’re not surprised to find out whose form they took.

Familiar green eyes, and dark hair. Of course it would be Belobog’s conman this time— the last time Aha had showed themselves to you they took on the form of Hanabi when you were in some planet with Boothill some years ago.

“Of course! It’s rude to greet a friend without announcing my presence.” They grinned, their smile stretching a little wider than what a normal human could smile. You think this would have utterly creeped you out had you been a human.

“Good to see you again, Aha.” You said.

“And you are still the same old you.” They poked your nose. “What fun are you going to pull next I wonder?” They jeered.

“None of your business— I didn’t think you cared. I was under the assumption that as long as you are elated, then all is well.” Aha laughed at your intentional wording, slapping their knee as they wheezed too loudly.

“This is why you are my good friend.” They pinched your cheeks. “To think you’d offer all sides of a theater just like this, did you enjoy it when you were behind the safety of your screen too?”

What the fuck.

“What do you mean by that?” You innocently prodded, Aha merely kept their grin wide like a Cheshire Cat, their form morphing into something.. wrong, off, inelegant and disproportionate if you looked closer.

“Oh you know well what I am talking about, Little Libertas.” They said. “A reborn Aeon from a realm none of us can reach, how amusing indeed.” their eyes widened, pupils blown as they confirmed your suspicion. Aha had no reason to speak of lies to you for they were not human.

“Ugh.” You groaned. “Of course you’d break the fourth wall.” You said softly as you went back to picking up the materials with ease.

“Yet you still laugh whenever I rickroll you.”

“Fair.”

Aha hummed, their features returning back to normal seeing as it didn’t get a reaction out of you as they wanted.

“I would like to watch you more.” They said to you. “You are amusing.”

You made a face, and they laughed as they slowly but surely disappeared.

“Until next time little friend.”

You sighed, looking at the materials inside of the sack before dragging it with you and walking to a space anchor.

You still have a room to renovate after all.

—————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII (HERE), Part VIII, …….

Interludes: one, two…..

I’m still navigating on how I could properly write this fic, so when I eventually edit it please expect minor or major changes to how things would function because we know HSR lore isn’t that concrete yet.

I would also like to thank everyone for their love and support for this series, I love everyone’s praises towards this— I was initially hesitant to publish it, but I’m glad I did.

See you on the next installation!