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astrophileous · 2 years ago

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Love Bugs (Pt. 01)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): 18+ NSFW SMUT, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talk, slight mdom/fsub dynamic, praise kink (?), dubious consent (only because both of them are kinda drunk), alcohol consumption, cursing (a lot of it)

Word Count: 3700-ish

Author's Note: sooo I used to write for law and order svu a long time ago on my old account, but I haven't really picked up fanfiction writing for a long time now, but this is definitely a first time for me writing smut so pls keep that in mind lol. that being said, I was absolutely APPALLED by the lack of derek fanfics on this platform, hence why I decided to take matters into my own hand and wrote this little piece right here :) this fic is gonna be divided into several parts and I'll try to post an update asap. the tw will be adjusted accordingly on each part of the fic. I'll also be making a masterlist for the whole series hopefully sooner rather than later. in the meantime, I hope you enjoy the story below and don't forget to drop a like/comment/reblog xoxo

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Since the first time you met him, Derek Morgan was never less than 200 pounds of danger and charm, and he wore that fact with immense pride.

"I'm Derek," he offered smoothly, palm extended to shake yours the moment Hotch introduced you to the team.

"Nice to meet you," was your reply. His hand felt sturdy against your clammy one. "You can call me (Y/N). Or Beetle. Whichever works."

"Beetle?" Someone in the room interjected. You were pretty sure her name was Emily. "How'd you get Beetle from (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?"

"It's a childhood nickname. Kinda stuck." You shrugged. "It's a long story."

That was how everything started.

Flirtatious was Derek's second nature. You convinced yourself not to be swayed by the sweet nothings he kept on dropping wherever he went, especially when you began to understand more about his dynamics with Penelope Garcia. You were just another side quest in his little game, and Derek was merely eager to be the number one top player in the leaderboard.

But your heart, unfortunately, had always been much more vulnerable than your head.

And Derek Morgan, as you came to find out, was its biggest kryptonite.

"Hey, Bug." Derek had approached you after one particularly grisly case. The nickname he had chosen to adopt for you after a couple of weeks being on the team dripped easily from his tongue. "Drinks afterwards?"

"Sure. Who else is coming?"

"Just us two tonight, sweetheart." He winked.

You should have seen it coming.

You should have known that getting drinks late at night with Derek Morgan--alone--was going to be the start of your rapid downfall.

Derek Morgan was the kryptonite to your heart.

Yet then again, you always knew you were secretly a masochist.

"Okay, okay, back up a minute," Derek choked out in between laughter. "That's how you got the nickname Beetle?"

You were quite enjoying the sight in front of you. Twinkled eyes, carefree Derek, who was finally able to let himself loose thanks to the alcohol in his system. The smile lines on his face miraculously made him appear younger, and you could almost catch a glimpse of the young, ambitous football star he once had been before he began pursuing the life of law and justice.

"Yep." You nodded sheepishly, stirring the remaining liquor in the glass in front of you. "I didn't know, okay? How was I supposed to know that beetles can reproduce and multiply that much in the span of a couple of weeks? And frankly, I blame my teachers for failing to satisfy the curiosity of an eight-year old me."

"Alright. Blame the underappreciated heroes of this country, then. How were they supppsed to know you'd actually manage to cause a beetle infestation, Bug?" He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Please tell me you got punished."

"I did. Mandatory volunteer work." Derek stared in disbelief at your answer. "Well, they wanted to suspend me, but my mother could be very persuasive."

"Meaning, she threatened to sue the school?" Derek raised an eyebrow, remembering the one time you told him that your mom was a lawyer before she passed away.

The rest of the night unraveled similarly. With more anecdotes shared and less sobriety kept, conversation with Derek flowed effortlessly. It felt like a swimmer being back in the water after a year-long sabbatical. Before the two of you realized it, hours had passed since you and Derek first stumbled into that bar, and the finale of an exhausting day had at last morphed into the premiere of a better one.

At Derek's insistence, he accompanied you on the taxi ride back to your apartment, ignoring the constant protest that you kept voicing out loud during the entire journey.

"This is absolutely unnecessary. I told you I'm fine," you grumbled as you staggered from the taxi towards your apartment bulding.

Derek caught up with you easily despite having to linger back to pay for the taxi fare. You stopped on the steps leading towards the front door, too busy fishing for your apartment key to notice that your balance had started slipping from your state of inebriation.

You laughed drunkenly when you felt yourself fall into a pair of strong arms. "Whoopsies. Sorry."

"Careful, Bug. Don't hurt yourself," Derek muttered softly.

Your whole body shuddered at the sensation of his breath on your ear. Derek had never felt this close before. Not even when you hugged each other goodbye or when you embraced one another after a close call in one of your cases. This time, his arms around you felt intimate. That fact alone managed to sober you up even if only for a fraction.

"Okay. I'm okay."

You scrambled out of Derek's firm but gentle hold, finally producing the offensive key from your purse before inserting it into the key hole.

"Thanks for taking me home. You didn't have to."

"I know." Derek raised his fingers, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen over your eyes as a consequence of the passing wind. "I wanted to."

You stood there under the darkness, body nailed in place by a force far greater than anything you ever knew. Derek was looking at you with an unidentifiable gaze. One that seemed to burn brightly beneath his eyes, but warm and tender once they fell upon your skin.

The intensity was new. Overwhelming. It struck your core, stripping you bare of any defense left in both your body and soul.

Perhaps, that was exactly why the next words even managed to leave your mouth.

"You're pretty."

And God, he really was.

Derek Morgan was beautiful. All six feet and two inches of him. He looked pretty in the mornings when he slid a warm cup of hazelnut latte across your desk, and he looked just as pretty in the evening under the delicate strokes of moonlight.

At the sight of his amused beam in response to your sudden remark, you began to contemplate why anyone hadn't tried to claim him as the eighth wonder of the world.

"I'm pretty?"

"Very."

"I think you're prettier."

"Hm?"

Derek took another step forward, closing the distance between the two of you until the air you exhaled became the very one he breathed in.

"Good night, (Y/N)." The rare sound of your name out of his mouth made you shiver.

Derek exterminated the remaining gap between the two of you. For a second, your entire nerve endings stood in anticipation, waiting for the moment that his plush lips would touch yours.

They never did.

Instead, his kiss had landed on your cheek, viciously close to where the line of your lips started that you could almost picture how he would taste when you closed your eyes.

Derek started to pull away, but he never got further than a mere centimeter before you decided to take matters into your own hand and pressed your own lips to his inviting ones.

He tasted of alcohol and mint. But most importantly, he tasted of Derek. A distinctive sweetness that erupted the dormant butterfiles in the pit of your stomach. They began to soar freely inside of you under the influence of Derek's touch.

Your entire being was on fire. What started as sweet and alleviating soon turned into a contest of desperation. Before you knew it, you somehow had managed to unlock the front door and moved inside, all the way to the door of your own apartment.

When he nipped your bottom lip, you couldn't help but moan into the kiss.

"Fuck," Derek murmured against your lips after hearing the needy sound you just made. "Fuck me."

"I'm trying to," you said impatiently, scrambling to get ahold of his collar and brought his lips back to where they belonged.

Your ministrations screeched to a halt with Derek's hands around your wrists. "Hey. No, Bug. Stop."

Derek took a step back then, letting your hands fall back to your side. He never strayed far from where you stood against the wooden door, but even that tiny bit of distance was enough to make you crave more of him.

You needed to feel his body pressed up against yours, to have him incredibly close that you had no idea where he ended and you began.

"Derek, please..."

You should have been ashamed by how wretched your voice sounded, but you didn't care. You wanted him past the point of caring.

His smile was gentle and forlorn at the same time. "No, sweetheart. Not tonight."

Just like that, your heart plummeted straight out of your chest. "What?"

"Go inside, (Y/N). Get some sleep."

"No!"

Had it been any other day or any other person, you would have chastised yourself for your lack of propriety. But it wasn't any other person standing in front of you. It was Derek. Beautiful, kind, and courageous Derek. Your friend. Your kryptonite.

The oblivious owner of your heart.

"Don't go," you whispered. "Come inside. Stay with me tonight."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

Your gut churned with dread. "Y-you don't?"

"Christ. I didn't mean it like that. Hey, look at me." He tugged a finger under your chin, forcing your eyes to stare into his dark ones. "You have no idea how much I want to. But you're drunk."

"So are you."

"Exactly my point."

"Derek--"

"I'm not gonna have you forget our first time in the morning just because you were too drunk to remember it, Bug."

The urge to chortle was almost unbearable.

Derek seemed to notice the comical mischief shining in your eyes. "What?"

"It's funny that you think I would ever forget the first time we fuck."

A breathy laugh rumbled out of his chest. "You're a menace, woman."

"A menace who wants you. Please, Derek," you started to whine. "I'm sober enough to give my consent. Hell, I could even recite the entire FBI oath to prove it if you want. You wanna see? I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), do solemnly swear that I will support and defend--"

"Bug--"

"--the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic--"

"(Y/N)--"

"--that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same--"

You never did finish reciting the remainder of that oath.

The taste of Derek's lips on yours was an interruption you'd gladly welcome at any time of day. Through some sort of miracle, you managed to drag the two of you inside the safety of your apartment without ever breaking the kiss.

When it was time to come up for air, Derek's voice was raspy in your ear, "Sweetheart, I think--"

You didn't give him a chance to protest.

The kisses you peppered started on his neck. When your teeth gritted over his pulse point, Derek let out a low moan that vibrated through your entire being.

"Oh God..."

You continued showering kisses down his body, enjoying the way Derek had been bespelled by the magic of your touch. The buttons of his shirt came undone, and when you finally fell to your knees in front of him, you sucked hard on the skin where his abs met his pelvis.

"Shit. (Y/N), you don't... we don't have to--"

"For God sake, will you shut up?" You chuckled. "Did you not hear anything I said? Or should I just demonstrate how badly I want you right now?"

You took Derek's lack of further objections as permission to go ahead.

His buckle and pants came off pretty quickly. The next to go was his boxer, and the sight that greeted you afterward had your most intimate part gushing in excitement.

You wrapped your fingers around his hardening length. Tentatively at first, but the blissed out look on Derek's face only spurred you on even further.

"Is this okay?"

Derek gulped down before answering, "Yes."

You began to move your hand up and down, feeling Derek going stiffer and stiffer in your hand.

"Holy fuck," Derek cursed when you took his tip in your mouth.

He tasted divine on your tongue. It took a little while for your muscles to fully relax around his impressive size, but when they did, you began to bob your head back and forth, moving in tandem with the hand still wrapped around the rest of him that you couldn't fit entirely in your mouth.

"Yeah, just like that, pretty bug. You're doing so good," he panted.

Derek continued giving his praises, his words--along with his fingers in your hair--doing things to your body that had your thighs clamping down tightly. You began rocking in rhythm with the pace of your head and hand, trying to put pressure against the pulsing need inside your warmth.

"Fuck. Trying to relieve yourself, sweetheart? Sucking me off gets you all hot and needy, huh?" Derek moaned at the sight of you on your knees, teary eyed and full of him, writhing from the budding heat in the pit of your stomach.

You gave him one last suck before he pulled you up to your feet.

"Come here," Derek ordered before kissing you fervently.

He maneuvered the two of you from the doorway, following the direction to the bedroom that you had vaguely gestured at him. Once inside, Derek pushed you towards the bed while he threw his shirt onto the floor.

"You're naked," you mused in between giggles.

"And you're overdressed," he retorted. Your hands began to undo the buttons of your shirt before Derek's hand stopped them. "Let me."

He discarded your shirt in no time, your bra following not far behind.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered before leaving feathery kisses across your collarbone.

He started sucking on your nipple while fiddling the other one, enjoying the way your body reacted to every stroke of his tongue and every pinch of his fingers.

"Derek, please. I want to... I want--"

"Hm?" Derek paused his ministrations, keeping his hand busy by running it up and down your side. "What do you want, pretty bug? Tell me."

"I want you to touch me."

"I am touching you."

You whined. "You know what I meant."

With a chuckle, Derek left one last kiss on your breastbone before continuing his erotic journey southward. After sucking a mark underneath your belly button, he started fumbling with the button of your slacks.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart. You're soaked," he mulled out loud once you were free of the confine of your pants.

Even with your panties still standing as a barrier between Derek and your mound, you could feel every breath that Derek blew against your most sensitive part. There was no doubt surrounding the truth behind Derek's words. You could feel your wetness dripping down your thighs. It didn't exactly help that Derek had begun littering tiny kisses around your hip and pelvic bones.

When his lips made contact with your clothed core, the strangled moan you let out almost sounded animalistic.

"You taste so good," Derek said before diving in once again. "I could spend an eternity between your legs and die a very happy man."

"That's nice, but I don't want you to die just yet."

You tugged at his neck to bring his face back to yours, pressing both of your lips together in another heated kiss that had your toes curling inward.

"No more playing, please. I need you inside me right now," you rasped desperately.

"I still need to get you ready for me, sweetheart." Derek pecked your lips once more. "Why don't you lie back and relax, hm?"

Gingerly, you followed Derek's instruction. He made a quick work of removing your panties before his deft fingers began exploring your folds.

"So wet for me."

He inserted one finger at first, two, and then three inside your pulsing channel. It was a bit of a stretch, tight but not uncomfortable. Derek slid them in and out of you until you turned into a panting mess underneath him.

"Derek--"

He shushed you gently. "I know, Bug. I know."

He worked as if he was a musician and you were his favorite piece of instrument. The heel of his palm found solace on top of your bundle of nerves, drawing circles over and over again to the rhythm of his fingers inside of you.

Before long, you could feel the coil inside of your body snapping, sending your whole entire being shaking as you fell to the edge of a newfound ecstasy.

Throughout all of it, Derek kept his fingers sliding in and out of you, helping you ride your orgasm until your body had finally stopped spasming.

When you opened your eyes, you were welcomed with Derek's awed smile and warm eyes.

"Hi, gorgeous," you murmured breathlessly, still floating along the aftermath of your earlier pinnacle.

"Hey," he whispered back, kissing your temple with the most delicate of touches. "How are you feeling?"

"Blisfully sated."

Derek laughed at your overtly honest answer.

"Are you tired?" he then asked. "Because we don't have to do anything else if you feel--"

"Derek Morgan, I swear to God. If you try to talk me out of this one more time..."

His responding grin was mischievous. "Yes, ma'am."

After one last kiss to your lips, Derek started lining himself up with your entrance. The sensation of his tip pressing against you awakened the momentarily satiated hunger inside your lower belly. And when he finally entered you--slowly but surely--you could physically feel the air being punched right out of your lungs.

"Oh my God," you breathed out once he had filled you to the brim. "You're huge."

"And you're so fucking tight."

He pulled out his length until only his tip was left inside before driving back in with enough force to shatter your entire world. In no time at all, Derek had finally found a steady rhythm. Moving in and out of you while his lips and hands paid attention to the other parts of your body.

"Derek, Derek, Derek," you moaned his name endlessly, relishing every drag of his member against the pulsating muscles of your inner wall.

You could feel every ridge of him inside of you, along with every brush of kisses that he scattered all over your skin, every lazy drag of fingers on the curvatures of your body. All of your senses had been heightened around the presence of him.

"So fucking beautiful. Fuck. Such a good bug for me, hm? So desperate for my cock that you couldn't even wait to sober up."

The heat of Derek's words fueled your fire even further. You began to writhe underneath him, scrambling to make sure that every inch of you was touching every part of him.

"Tell me how good I'm making you feel," Derek ordered between his thrusts.

"So good, Derek. Oh God, you feel so good inside of me. Please, please, please."

Your desperation was the motivation he needed. Derek shifted you both until he was on his knees and your body lying halfway across his lap. When he continued to move again, the vigor of his pace nearly had you seeing stars.

"You feel like heaven, pretty bug. So tight and warm. Bet no one can fuck you as good as I do."

"No one, Derek. No one."

"Are you close, sweetheart? Hm? Tell me how close you are."

"I'm close. So close," you cried out. "I'm gonna... Derek, I'm gonna--"

As if he was reading your mind, Derek brought down his fingers and started drawing tight circles on your clit. All the while, he never relented the pace he had set inside your pussy.

"You wanna cum?" Derek groaned as he continued to nudge you further towards the edge.

You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, nodding your head frantically.

"Use your words, Bug."

"Yes, yes. I wanna cum. Please, Derek, make me cum."

And just like that, Derek sent a powerful thrust that had your toes curling, ears buzzing, and body shuddering.

Your second orgasm washed over you in big, tidal waves. A silent scream broken into desperate pleas and moans as you rode the high with Derek still inside of you. It didn't take long for him to follow behind. The sensation of you cumming around him became the very thread of his own undoing.

He spilled everything he had inside of you before his spent body fell into your arms. The air was heavy with the smell of sex and the panting of both of your breaths. You reveled in the aftermath of what just transpired, running your hands up and down the muscular back of the person responsible for your satisfied smile.

When Derek finally lifted his head up, he was adorning a smile identical to the one you had.

"That was--" you started, but struggled to find the right word to say.

Fortunately, Derek knew exactly what you meant. "Yes. Yes, it was."

He left a single kiss, then two, and three under your breast, before resting his chin back on the soft cushion of your abdomen.

"Derek?"

"Hm?"

You smiled at his tired hum. "You're sleepy, aren't you?"

"No," he replied, betraying the slight droop in his voice.

"That's okay. Go to sleep, baby."

You weren't even sure that Derek had heard your last statement, because not even two seconds later, he had started snoring softly against your skin.

Slowly as to not disturb the sleeping giant on top of your body, you pulled the comforter and tugged the edge across Derek's shoulders. Before long, you, too, were slipping into the deep slumber with Derek's steady intakes of breath as your lullaby.

Derek's weight on top of you was an anchor, one that you could have never dreamed of physically having outside of your hopeless fantasies. But Derek was real, and he was there with you in the comfort of your bedroom.

For a moment, everything was alright with the world. But then again, this was only the beginning of an unforeseen end. And as much as you wanted to convince yourself otherwise, you knew that inevitably, something was bound to go wrong.

You just hoped that when it did, you would have the strength to make it all right again.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan smut #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #shemar moore #love bugs

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buckymorelikefuckme · 2 years ago

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how to marry a millionaire | chapter one

mafia bucky x spoiled brat reader

words: 3k

warnings: sexual language, no smut (yet hehe)

a/n: eeeeep!!! i'm so excited for this fic, y'all have no idea omg. with that said, though, i don't have a posting schedule for this, so pls be patient with me while i write it and post chapters whenever i can ♡ any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated! xoxo

masterlist

This club is doing absolutely nothing to lift your spirits. Honestly, you hadn't had high hopes that it would when you'd decided to come earlier in the evening, but you were fucking bored sitting at home all alone and feeling sorry for yourself. After all, pity parties are much more enjoyable when you have at least one other person to share the pity with. Instead of bitching to someone else, though, you sought to drown your sorrows in Amaretto Sours and loud music.

You sigh heavily, swirling your straw in slow circles in your drink as the news you received that morning paraded in the forefront of your mind.

Henry Spofford III, your most recent sugar daddy, died in his sleep at the ripe age of 88. He'd been in excellent health, mostly because the best doctors and healthcare money could buy were at his disposal—which had been the deciding point in you coming to an agreement with the old bastard—so to hear of his passing had come as a shock. Your lip curls in annoyance when you recall the conversation you'd had with his lawyer over the phone.

“Henry died in the early hours of the morning,” he said in lieu of a greeting when you accepted the call. “I'm sure this is hard for you, and I'm very sorry for your loss.”

“I—what?” you stammered, coming to a standstill in your massive closet where you'd been trying to pick out an outfit for the day.

“I regret to inform you that, while Mr. Spofford had intentions of including you in his will, his untimely passing prevented him from doing so.”

You suddenly felt like the room was spinning, taking staggering steps over to the chaise in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook Central Park. Before you had a chance to utter a response, he continued.

“As you are aware, Mr. Spofford paid the lease on your penthouse for the year. Since we're approaching August, you have five months left until the lease is up for renewal. Obviously, what you choose to do then is entirely your business, but you will no longer have his money to support you.”

“Right,” you replied faintly, bringing your clammy palm up to your forehead, feeling a migraine coming on. “Of course.”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he repeated, and you were pretty sure he wasn't talking about just Henry.

You drain the last of your drink, slamming the empty glass on the bar probably a little too forcefully. What a fucking joke. You knew you shouldn't have gotten into that relationship. Not that there was anything romantic about it, not for you.

“Another?” the bartender asks, raising his voice to be heard over the music, nodding to your glass.

“Keep them coming,” you instruct.

See, the thing is, Henry dying is terribly inconvenient. He was the wealthiest sugar daddy you'd had so far and was so easy to manipulate into giving you whatever you wanted. You'd had your eye on a brand new Bentley Continental GT and were so close to convincing Henry to get it for you. Looks like that will have to wait a little while now.

God, why was the universe so cruel to you?

A fresh drink was placed in front of you and you grabbed it, taking a long sip without thanking the bartender.

This puts you back at square one. Searching for replacements always made you cranky. You'd have to kiss so much ass to find somebody as rich as Henry, and you were already dreading it.

“You are much too pretty to be pouting like that.”

You don’t try to hide your eye roll. “How original,” you drone, not even looking beside you where the voice came from.

The man laughs. “Oh, this one has bite,” he muses.

You look heavenward for patience. “Listen, unless you have obscene amounts of money to support my truly heinous shopping habits, I’m not interested. Fuck off.”

“Would a Birkin get you to actually look me in the eye?” he asks.

With an aggrieved sigh, you let your gaze fall to the man occupying the seat to your left. And then you promptly feel your thighs clench involuntarily.

Holy fucking shit this guy is gorgeous. Dark hair styled expertly, stubble across his sharp jaw lightly peppered with gray, light blue eyes dancing in amusement. He's leaning casually against the bar, his arm resting on top of it, dressed in an admittedly expensive looking suit, no doubt tailored to his exact measurements. Your eyes catch on the watch on his wrist and you nearly moan. You know a sixty thousand dollar watch when you see one. Perhaps you were too hasty in blaming the universe for your misfortunes.

Interest sufficiently piqued, you shift slightly to face him a bit more. His lips quirk up on one side.

“I don't want just any Birkin that every other basic bitch has. I want the diamond encrusted crocodile one,” you say, tilting your head and smiling sweetly.

“A woman with taste,” he praises, smirking.

“Clearly,” you acknowledge as you raise a challenging brow.

He laughs again, his eyes crinkling on the sides. It makes him look charming, but if there is anything in your years of being a sugar baby has taught you, it's how to read people. This man reeks of power, and not in a typical CEO or old money way. Even the way he's sitting screams easy confidence. He’s oozing danger and normally you would take that red flag for what it is, but you're just tipsy enough to ignore it.

You rise from your barstool, smoothing out your dress and fluffing your hair. He watches your every move with extreme focus. Thank god you picked a curve-hugging dress that showed off your body.

“I expect my Birkin within the next two days,” you inform him, blowing a kiss as you turn and walk away.

A man like that will know how to find you. Call it a gut feeling. You knew, one way or another, he'd come across your path again. Whether or not he would have the promised bag remains to be seen, however.

You're returning home from some retail therapy. As much as you absolutely adore spending money, especially when it's someone else's, you weren't completely irresponsible with it. You always saved at least half of whatever Henry gave you in a separate bank account from the one he'd wire your allowance to. So, with a fat chunk of change collecting dust in the aforementioned account, you figured you deserved to treat yourself to some goodies after the previous harrowing day you had.

“Hi, Walter,” you greet as you enter your building with arms laden in various shopping bags.

“Good afternoon, miss,” the doorman returns with a pleasant smile. “I believe your friend stopped by while you were gone.”

You pause, frowning. “My friend?” you ask.

He nods. “Yes. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes.”

“Oh.” A smile tickles your lips. “Is he still here?”

“No ma'am. He said he only wanted to drop off some things for you.”

You're practically vibrating in your skin. “Are they up front?”

“He said he had a key,” Walter replies with a knowing grin. “Finally settling down, miss?”

A key? That has your smile faltering, makes something unsure twist in your stomach. But as soon as the feeling appears, your mind recalls that Walter said he’d dropped off things, as in plural, and just like that, you dismiss whatever uneasiness that tried to make itself known within you.

“Thank you, Walt,” you say sincerely.

You quickly make your way to the elevators, impatiently pressing the button for one of them to open. It only takes a few seconds and then you're ascending to the top floor where the penthouses reside. There's only two, and you have the one with the better view, because fucking duh.

You dart out of the doors before they're even opened all the way, jostling your shopping bags in the process. You huff, adjusting your grip on them as you make a beeline for your apartment. It's a struggle to dig your keys out of your purse and unlock your door, but you eventually do and hurry inside, carelessly dropping your shopping bags in the entryway and kicking off your heels. Rounding the corner, you stop in your tracks once you see the display in your living room.

“Fuck,” you whisper, heart hammering.

Not only do you spot the beloved Hermès logo on a tan velour dust bag in the center of it all, but there are also Dior boxes, and Chanel, Prada, Givenchy—there are so many brands in front of you, and the sheer amount has your panties growing damp. You bite your lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

Your hands shake when you pick up the Hermès dust bag, slowly opening it and taking a peek inside.

“Oh my god,” you whine upon seeing the specific diamond encrusted crocodile Birkin you asked for.

You have no fucking clue how he managed to actually snag one of these. Not only are they one of the most expensive designs, but they're fucking rare and hard as shit to find. God, he really must have so much fucking money and connections to have acquired it in less than a day. You've hit the goddamn jackpot.

The next thing you reach for is the small Tiffany & Co. box, opening it to reveal the Victoria Vine drop necklace that you know is at least twenty thousand dollars. After that, you're like a kid on Christmas morning, and soon you're sitting on the floor in a sea of empty boxes, bags, and tissue paper, the smell of luxurious leather filling the air. Your earlier purchases are all but forgotten on the entryway floor at this point. Glittering jewelry and clothes and perfume and so much more all around you. You could weep, honestly.

There was an envelope resting on top of one of the boxes that you had ignored in favor of finding out what the contents were within. Now that there's nothing left to open, however, you finally rip it open to pull out the card. Jesus, even this fucking stationary smells luxurious.

In scratchy handwriting, the card reads: Have I passed your test?

An address is listed, followed by, 8pm. Don't be late. -JBB

You run your fingers over his signature, suddenly realizing you don't even know this man’s name, or anything about him for that matter, other than he's ridiculously wealthy and even more ridiculously handsome. But you're much too intrigued by him to pretend like you have to think about whether or not you’re going.

Checking the time, you curse under your breath when you see you only have four hours to get ready. You already have an outfit in mind, and you smile smugly to yourself as you undress and step under the warm water. He's not gonna know what hit him.

If you take an extra ten minutes to use the showerhead to get off, no one else is around to know.

Whoever this man was, he was doing everything possible to show off his wealth. You'd just been putting on your finishing touches to your makeup when you'd gotten a call from the concierge downstairs saying a car had arrived to pick you up.

When you stepped outside and saw the black SUV, an Escalade to be sure, you had to tamp down the excited thrill that wanted to rush through you. The driver was waiting by the back door with his hands clasped behind his back, dressed in an all black suit and tie. He'd greeted you with a polite nod and opened the door for you to slide into the backseat.

Now, as you’re driven through the bustling streets of the Upper East Side, you allow yourself a moment to appreciate the car. You’ll always love the feel of buttery smooth leather against your bare legs.

A gratified smile toys at the edges of your lips. You've had a taste of what this man can offer and you'd be damned if you let him slip away. You will make sure he's wrapped around your pinky finger before the night is over.

Fifteen minutes later, you arrive at your destination. While the driver is making his way around to let you out, you check your reflection in your small compact mirror and quickly put it back in your gold clutch. As you step out of the car you gain the attention of a few passers-by. Honestly, you’d expect nothing less. You know you look like sex on legs.

You're wearing a cream colored dress that has a high neck, but the back dips low, resting right above your ass, and the hem is more on the indecent side. For your hair you'd gone for a very 90s Pam Anderson updo, looking both effortless and sexy. You kept your makeup simple yet sultry and your jewelry is tasteful, a few dainty gold bands on your fingers and some teardrop diamond earrings.

The stars of the outfit, though, are the Kate Strass Louboutins he'd gifted you. The way they sparkle makes it hard for you to keep your eyes ahead of you because you just want to stare at them. These aren't your first pair of red bottoms, and you're positive they're far from the last, but they are your new favorites.

Upon entering the restaurant, you immediately notice how quiet it is. A peek into the dining area explains why. It's empty, from what you can see. You huff a quiet laugh. Oh, he’s trying hard.

The hostess rounds the corner and greets you with a smile. “Good evening, Miss. Mr. Barnes is waiting at his table for you. Follow me.”

Barnes. Now you're getting somewhere.

You walk behind the hostess quietly as she leads you to a table where a lone man waits patiently. He's wearing another form fitting suit, all black and incredibly sexy, and the same watch from the first time you saw him is glinting on his wrist in the low light of the room. He stands as you approach, coming around to pull your chair out for you with a small smile.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” the hostess says as you sit down and Mr. Barnes returns to his own seat.

As she walks away, he relaxes back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other as he takes you in. “You look stunning.”

“I know,” you reply, smiling when he laughs. “Thank you.”

“I'm surprised you're not using your new Birkin,” he replies.

“That's not a date bag, silly,” you inform him playfully.

He grins. “My apologies. I do see that you're wearing the shoes, though.”

“I am,” you confirm, delicately sticking one foot out to admire the sparkling heels. “I can't stop staring at them,” you sigh wistfully.

“I'm happy to see you like them.”

You hum and return your gaze to his. He’s staring intensely, his blue eyes calculating.

“Do I get to know your name now?” he asks.

You smirk. “Are you pretending you don't already know it?”

His lips quirk up on one side. “Yes,” he decides.

You roll your eyes. “I think you should tell me your name.”

“You don't like the mystery?” he wonders, tilting his head.

“Something tells me you'll want me to know for later,” you tease coyly.

He laughs. “Touché.” Sitting up straighter, he leans in. “My name is James Barnes.”

Your brain perks up, trying to recall where you've heard that name before. You know you have, but honestly, it's hard to keep up with who's relevant in Manhattan anymore these days.

“It's a pleasure to officially meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you purr.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

You grin. This should be fun.

James lifts a hand, beckoning someone. The waiter rushes over, introducing himself and asking what you'd like to drink.

“We’ll have the Montrachet Grand Cru,” James replies without even looking at a menu.

“Very good, sir. I’ll be right back with that.”

After the waiter leaves, you cross your arms and rest them atop the crisp, white tablecloth. James matches your stance.

“So,” you begin, a slow grin etching across your lips, “how much did it cost you to rent out the whole place?”

“Why would it cost me anything to rent out my own restaurant?” he asks in mock curiosity.

Your eyebrows raise ever so slightly. His restaurant? Impressive. That still doesn't explain the absurd amount of money he spent on those gifts, though.

“You won't lose profit closing it like this?” you prod.

With a secretive smile, he explains, “I have my hand in quite a few… business endeavors.”

“I see,” you respond.

You have a feeling his other so-called “business endeavors” aren't quite as legal or upstanding as a high dollar restaurant. It should send off more warning bells in your mind, but it only proves to further pique your interest.

“Besides,” he continues, “shouldn't a spoiled princess like you get the royal treatment?”

A surprised laugh escapes you. “Spoiled princess?” you repeat.

“Don't act like you're not,” he says with a knowing grin.

“You say it like it's a bad thing,” you reply.

“Oh, on the contrary, I love it.” His smile turns sly. “I love when a woman knows exactly what she wants, and how to get it.”

You lick your lips, noting how his eyes drop and follow the movement. “Well, it's a good thing I do then, huh?” you say quietly. “I've got my sights set on something big, too.”

“Bigger than you think,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “God. I guess I set myself up for that.”

He leans back, elbows on the arms of his chair and rubbing at his bottom lip. “I've got my sights set on something, too,” he tells you, voice low and contemplative.

A pleased thrill hums throughout you. This man is the whole package. Everything you could ever dream of wanting in a man, conveniently wrapped up in a perfect, little bow is sitting right in front of you. Handsome, funny, and most important of all, filthy fucking rich.

You're gonna sink your claws into him and never let go.

#avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes x spoiled brat reader

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mackenzielovee · 3 years ago

Text

burnout: part five - rafe cameron

a/n: i have nothing for part 6 written yet so it might be a minute but pls enjoy this in the meantime! as always, leave me some words and let me know what you think! xoxo

warnings: swearing, discussion of a boating accident, inappropriate comments

italics represent the future!

wc: 5.8k

series masterlist

my writing

Rafe Cameron had one thought swimming through his head for days. Two thoughts. The first being kissing Jenna Tucker. He wants to so bad it hurts. He wants her to be a part of his world, not some girl he has to constantly be on his toes around. He wants to feel her comfort when he needs it, without questions or hesitations from either side.

The second is what the hell Kelce lied to her about. He needs to know so badly and he couldn't even explain why. A part of him just knows he cannot and will not fuck things up with this girl.

Rafe stalks into the Club and finds Kelce at the bar with Topper, grinning and checking out some girl across the deck. He shakes his head, and with a final exhale, he approaches them.

"Yo, Cameron," Topper greets, holding up a beer bottle to Rafe.

"No, thanks," Rafe waves it away, "A word, Kelce?"

"The fuck you so formal for, dude?" Kelce jokes, "What's up?"

Rafe sighs, glancing between his two friends and then runs a hand through his hair. He knows Topper being present will only take this conversation places he doesn't want it - doesn't need it - to go. He inhales and then speaks.

"What'd you lie to Jenna about?"

Kelce frowns, "She told you I lied to her?"

Rafe nods. Topper snorts, and right as Kelce opens his mouth to speak, Topper's voice fills the already thick air between them.

"Told you. She's manipulative. And catty. You say it all the time, dude. She's a brat. What are you working so hard for?" Topper questions him, leaning on the bar.

"I don't mean-" Rafe stops, swears, "She's not. Not the way I thought. Come on, dude, just tell me what you said to her."

"I don't know, Rafe, I probably spouted off some bullshit before I took her to Top's party. I don't remember. Convincing her to go was tough enough, you think I didn't have to at least make up something? And then, she left with you, bro," Kelce finally speaks up, shrugging as if there's nothing wrong with the words he'd just said.

Rafe shakes his head, "Why would you lie, though?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Kelce stands up straight now, then pats Rafe on the shoulder. Rafe's heart sinks in his chest, waiting for his best friend to confess his undying love for Jenna Tucker, "Was trying to get laid, dude. Especially by a girl who rejected Top. I mean, that's-"

"Fuck you, dude!" Topper laughs, shoving Kelce away.

They both crack up, but Rafe stays silent. He looks between the two, and for the first time in his life, he doesn't relate to them in the slightest. Of course, Rafe has thought about having sex with her. He thinks about it every time he sees her. But the way he felt, the way he feels, is different than Kelce. And Topper. And every other douche bag who looks at her.

"Shit, I gotta go," Rafe lies. He turns to walk away from the boys without another word, but Topper has other plans.

"Fifty bucks if you hit, Cameron."

Rafe, with his back to Topper, feels his jaw practically hit the floor. He'd known for a while that Topper wouldn't let this shit with Jenna go, but to say something like that? About her? He closes his mouth and clenches his jaw, then spins on his heel to face his friend. Topper's smirking, clearly amused with his bet.

Rafe doesn't hesitate, "Fuck you, and fuck your money, Top."

Topper's face falls, and Rafe doesn't wait around for a response. He walks away as he pulls out his phone, typing out a message to the girl named Brat in his phone.

Need to see you.

He hesitates, thinking maybe he should add more, and then stops. He's never hesitated firing off a text to a girl before. With a shake of his head, he presses send, then makes his way to the parking lot.

Jenna's hands are unsteady as she applies mascara. Not too much, just a little. Just enough it makes her look awake. Her back aches, sleeping on the floor had not been the best decision. Although, she wouldn't change things if she could.

The text chain still sits open on her phone. The boy named Frat Boy Asshole is coming to her house to pick her up, and she'd made sure five times that her father is on a conference call for another hour. She's confident she can slip out without him noticing.

Her phone dings again, and her heart stops. She can feel the adrenaline racing through her veins, the nervousness of hanging out with him and the excitement of possibly getting to see the same version of Rafe Cameron she's become so attached to making her feel more awake than the two cups of coffee she'd had.

Frat Boy Asshole: Will your dad come out with a 12-gauge if I come to the door?

She giggles, and when she registers the fact that she just giggled at something Rafe Cameron said, she closes her eyes and lets her head fall. This is dangerous, she thinks. This is so fucking dangerous. Lock up your heart. He can't hurt you if you don't feel anything for him.

She replies.

Yes. Be right down.

Taking her phone and her wallet just in case, as she had no idea what this adventure entails, she hurries down the stairs and out the front door. She's quiet, easing the front door shut. When she spots Rafe's truck sitting at the end of her driveway, her heart does somersaults in her chest.

He keeps his gaze on her as she walks down, eyes trailing over her t-shirt and shorts as if it's the last sight he'll ever see. He's okay with it. In fact, he's much more than just okay with it.

"Hey," he greets when she pulls open the door, hopping into the passenger seat.

"Hey," she laughs, "Are you kidnapping me?"

"I think it only counts as kidnapping if the kidnapee doesn't come to you willingly," he smirks.

"Kidnapee?" she questions.

He grins, then faces forward in his seat and puts the truck in drive. She just watches, completely mesmerized by ever move he makes. This is not good.

For the first time in her life, she decides to ignore the voices in her head. The only way to truly know Rafe, and to figure out his motives, is to get to know him. That, she's determined to do. If he'll let her.

"Seat belt," he reminds her as he pulls away.

She smiles to herself, Sarah's word briefly running through her mind before she does as told. He smiles when she does it, but bites down on his lip in an attempt to conceal it.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

He thinks for a moment, a number of potential responses running through his brain. She just watches the wheels turn, no longer trying to hide her stares. His mannerisms, his tells, are a big part of who he is. She wants to know each and every one.

"Favorite book. Go," he finally says.

"What?" she furrows her eyebrows.

"What, what? Was that unclear?" he laughs, looking over at her. He has one hand drooped over the steering wheel, and the way he drives so easily makes her feel things she shouldn't. How can such a simple thing spark so many feelings at once?

"No, just surprising."

"Well?" he raises a brow, settling his gaze back on the road.

"Well," she repeats, dragging it out as she thinks, "East of Eden, I guess."

She watches as his jaw falls open slightly, and when he looks over at her, there's something she can't read in his eyes. She notices how the sun makes them lighter, and somehow, more beautiful. A bright, reflective blue that she wants to get lost in.

"You're telling me, out of all the books in the world, you'd go with John Steinbeck?"

She feels her cheeks burn, "Yes. I would."

"Interesting," he replies, nodding his head.

"Have you ever even read his work? Why is that so surprising?" she questions him.

"I don't know," he admits, "I guess I just thought you'd say something more cliche. Pride and Prejudice, maybe."

She gapes, "A classic, Rafe Cameron. Don't speak ill of Jane Austen. She's brilliant."

He laughs, and heat radiates through her at the sound. It's a sound she's rarely heard; the tenseness of the Club always making it difficult for him to relax.

"I wouldn't dare," he replies.

She glances out the window, trying to find some sort of hint at where they're headed. Toward the water is the only thing she can guess.

"How do you know I read? I mean, what made you ask me that?"

He shrugs, as if it's the easiest question in the world, "I've seen you reading."

"When?"

Another shrug, "On the beach. You sit in the same spot I did when you gave me that mai tai at the Club."

Her heart plummets to her stomach. No way he'd done that intentionally. It had just been where he ended up.

"Oh."

He grins, but he doesn't say anything else. He can tell by her response that he's got her thinking, and that's all he hoped to do. After another minute, she speaks again.

"All right, I answered yours. Now, you answer mine. Where are we going?"

He smiles, "We're almost there."

"That's not the answer."

"It's an answer."

She groans, letting her head fall back onto the headrest. He laughs, and she swears that sound could make her do anything. Rafe flips on the radio after a while, questioning Jenna about her opinion on Fleetwood Mac.

The song playing ends just as Rafe pulls up to their destination. He parks his truck neatly, and when Jenna looks over at him, he already looks a little sad. She slowly takes off her seat belt and hops out, having not been able to suck a full breath in since she realized where he'd brought her.

"Why are we at the marina?" she asks as she rounds the truck to meet him.

He shuts his door and locks it, then turns to her. He takes a breath to calm himself, then tucks the keys away in his pocket. Jenna stares at him, watching as he slowly raises his hand out to her, palm face up, silently asking her to take it. Something in her stomach sparks, but she ignores it and reaches for him anyway.

The feeling of her skin on his is not something Rafe thinks he'll ever get used to. At least not any time soon. He doesn't speak, but Jenna has resided to letting him carry out whatever plan he needs to. He leads her down from the truck and toward the bridge, where the accident had occurred.

He doesn't speak, mostly because he doesn't know what to say. Neither does Jenna. She has no idea why he's brought her here, what he could possibly be doing.

He leads her down to the edge of the water, just underneath the bridge, and she can see the damage from there. She closes her eyes and looks down, not wanting to relive that night any more than she has been. Rafe squeezes her hand, providing silent comfort.

"Just so you know, I didn't bring you here to make you sad," he says, and then he smirks, "Or to make a move. Although, I hear the water can be very romantic."

"Not when you almost kill the girl's brother in it," she replies back, but she bites down on her lip to hide the smile forming there. He snickers.

"That's a fair point."

She looks up at him again and watches as he stares out at the bridge, at the damage that gives away what he'd done. The expression on his face is unreadable, but she's sure he's reliving it.

"This is where things changed for me," he speaks suddenly, not taking his eyes off the damage to the bridge, "I had gotten some, how do I put this, input - from a rather opinionated girl at the Club, and I was trying to be that guy. The guy she seems so sure is in here somewhere."

Although a little confused, Jenna nods, "This girl sounds like a real brat."

Rafe smirks and nods his head, "Oh, the worst. And, not to change the subject or anything, but she's always wearing these sexy, tiny ass dresses-"

"Point, Cameron," she teases him, attempting to usher away the blush rising to her cheeks.

"Right," he nods, "Anyway, she told me I didn't have to be this guy or put on this show for everyone. I was really gonna try, too. And, when her brother showed up at the marina, I know I should've sent him home. But, selfishly, I thought if I got in with her brother, maybe it would increase my chance with her. When the accident happened, I had a choice to make. For that split second, I thought about what she would do. What she'd want me to do. That's exactly what I did."

"Rafe," Jenna's voice comes out weak, and she herself almost doesn't hear it, "I don't understand what you mean. Am I missing something?"

He moves his gaze down to her, eyes searching her features. He's looking for something, and when he inhales sharply, she knows he found it. Her hand is still wrapped up tightly in his, and he squeezes it again.

"Come on," he says gently, pulling her hand as he leads her down closer to the water.

They stand virtually at the edge, Jenna watching as Rafe's eyes search the area. She can feel the tension in his hand, and she knows he still has more to say.

He looks far to their left, then raises his hand and points to a spot in the water.

"It was about there when I stopped. We'd all had a few, and I figured we'd sit around, listen to music and chill while I sobered up. It was a clear night, there were stars and everything. I kept replaying the conversation we'd had at the beach the day before in my head, thinking about you telling me that I don't have to put on the show for everyone else. That I didn't have to be this guy that everyone thinks I am. Stopping to sober up was my first step in that direction. I never would've done that before you."

Jenna nods at the admission, not exactly sure where he's going. It's already so much more information than she'd known previously, more than Josh had ever shared. She squeezes his hand, urging him to keep going.

"Anyway," he continues, "I sat down at the front of the boat with Topper, and everything was good for a while. Josh was kinda quiet, but he usually is. Scarlett, one of Sarah's friends was with us, and she started talking to him. I couldn't hear them, but I didn't really care to, either. Next thing I know, the boat's moving again. Scarlett's driving, and I tried to get her to stop. Or at least slow down. I don't know what the fuck she was trying to do, but she was drunk and I guess she wanted to show Josh how fast the boat could go. I was yelling at her, trying to get Topper and Kelce to help, but she wouldn't budge. Kept telling me to relax. I got mad and picked her up, moved her out of the way, but I was still drunk. I couldn't fix it the way I could have if I was sober. It happened so fast. I couldn't stop it-"

"Stop," Jenna demands. She can feel tears threatening her eyes, so she looks up and attempts to blink them away. After a minute, she turns to him again, "Rafe, why are you telling me all this now? How could you let people think it was all your fault?"

He shrugs, "Scarlett doesn't have a license. She was drunk as shit. I had my license, and I knew the Cameron family name would take care of the rest. If I told the truth, she could've gotten fined, maybe even arrested-"

"So, you took all the blame? You protected her?"

Jenna can feel her heart tumbling around in her chest, this new information shedding so much light on the situation. He'd never deserved to be yelled at by her. He was trying to better, for her. Trouble found him that night, discouraging him from his ability to be a good man.

"I did," he confirms, "Technically, it still is my fault. I should never have been that drunk in the first place. People expect it from me, though. It didn't matter. But, I knew you would've done the same. For Josh. I wanted to tell you, but my dad, he made me promise I wouldn't. I just couldn't hold it in any longer. You'd never completely trust me if you didn't know the truth."

"Rafe..." Jenna trails off, tugging on his hand to get him to face her.

He does, and the softness in her eyes makes his heart melt. He brings his other hand up and sets it on her waist, the overwhelming urge to press his lips to hers clouding his judgment. She doesn't object, she's not sure she could find her voice even if she wanted to, feeling his hand heat her skin through her shorts.

He licks his lips and watches her eyes flicker down to them, making his heart swell. He swallows anxiously, then pulls her even closer.

"You let me act like a brat," she whispers.

He smirks, "I kinda like it."

She grins, pushing herself even closer to him. She can feel his chest against hers now, eyes daring him to kiss her. She's not sure how things between them have changed so rapidly, how she hated his presence a few weeks ago. Now, she doesn't ever want to leave it. Briefly, Jenna searches for the voice in her head telling her to run. To not kiss him. To not get too close. She doesn't find it.

Rafe leans down, and just as he touches his forehead to hers, he whispers, "Make a deal with me."

"What?" Jenna whispers.

"Make a deal with me. Don't kiss me until I'm the type of guy you want. Until I prove to you I'm worth it."

She smiles slightly, flickering her eyes to his. They're so close, all she has to do is make one move and she'd be kissing Rafe Cameron.

"Deal," she whispers. She waits for Rafe's chest to deflate before she angles her head just so, pressing her lips onto his. It takes him by surprise, and a low groan emits from the back of his throat when he realizes that telling her the truth changed her opinion of him.

He'd still lied, he'd still gotten drunk. He'd still let Josh get on the boat. But, it was different to her. He wasn't just some frat boy asshole, some rich boy with too much money and too little sense. He's complicated, but in his own, beautiful way. She trusts him now. Completely.

He keeps their kiss gentle, hand trailing from her waist up to her cheek, cupping it in his hand to keep her there. She wraps her other arm around his neck, his warm skin heating up her cold hand.

Jenna's kissed only a few guys in her life, but this kiss is different. He's gentle but firm, like everything he's ever felt for her is pouring out of his mouth and into her own. She feels like she's on fire, but she doesn't want it to be put out. She wants to do this forever.

Rafe is the first to pull away, pressing two more kisses to her lips for good measure before pulling all the way back. Her lips are pink, a bit puffy, and the expression on her face is incomparable to anything else he's ever seen. God, she feels so good, he thinks.

"I-" he starts, then stops himself, shaking his head, "I can't think of one frat boy asshole comment to make right now. Got anything?"

Jenna laughs a real, genuine laugh. It's like music to Rafe's ears, a soundtrack he wants on repeat until the end of his life.

"Did I render Rafe Cameron speechless?" Jenna teases.

"You usually do, with the short fucking dresses and-"

"There it is," she stops him, laughing again.

He chuckles, squeezing her hand for what seems to be the millionth time on this trip. As he looks out at the water again, at the place he'd thought made him lose Jenna Tucker completely, his heart tugs. He pulls her into his chest and wraps his free arm around her, refusing to let go of her other hand. She wraps her arm around his back and they stay like that for a while, letting the sun fall behind the clouds and the breeze carry away any doubt or hesitation.

"You have to relax, Rafe. Sit down. I'll go get-"

"Don't leave," he grabs ahold of Jenna's wrists, keeping her close.

"I'm not going anywhere," she tells him, smiling softly, "I'm just gonna get you a blanket and a pair of Josh's sweatpants."

Rafe shakes his head, eyes wide. The idea of separating from her for only a minute seems impossible.

"Baby, please. Don't leave me."

His voice is vulnerable, weak, unguarded. She just swallows and nods, letting him lead her over to her living room couch. He lays down and pulls her on top of him, squeezing tight as a refusal to let go.

Jenna doesn't speak, words failing her as she cuddles her head into the crook of his neck. He always loves when she does that. When he speak again, she's surprised by what's on his mind.

"I know we're not on good terms," he whispers, voice cracking under his emotions, "I know. I'm not ignoring that. I just needed you, I always fucking need you. Please don't leave me."

She kisses the nape of his neck and whispers back, "Never. I love you."

Rafe takes Jenna to The Wreck to eat something, having heard her stomach growl at the marina. He had laughed and promised her a good meal before taking her home, then laughed again when she suggested The Wreck.

He holds her hand from the parking lot all the way inside, taking a table in the corner of the place. She scoffs when he brings his chair on the same side of the table as her, wrapping his arm loosely around the back of her seat.

"I always thought people who sit on the same side of the table were cliche," she teases him.

He laughs, "Can't kiss you from all the way over there."

He points to the other side of the table, as if it's a mile away. She laughs again, cheeks turning pink at the thought of kissing him in public. Her eyes wander around the place, almost empty, as if to see if anyone who could know her father is around.

"I'm gonna start making you pay up every time you make a frat boy asshole comment," she teases, eyes still wandering.

"I don't mind," he smirks.

When he notices her wandering glance, he reaches for her chin and pulls her to look up at him. She smiles, embarrassed she'd been caught.

"What's so interesting?" he asks.

"Nothing," she shakes her head, "Sorry."

"Mhm," he hums, nodding his head but making it obvious he doesn't believe her.

"It's just weird," she finally says, still staring up at him, "Being here. With you. On the same side of the table."

"Weird, wrong?" he raises an eyebrow.

"No," she's quick to shake her head, and some of her hair falls down onto her face.

"Good," he whispers, brushing the hair back and tucking it behind her ear.

She smiles, and when he leans in, butterflies soar through her stomach. Again, is all she can think. Again, and please don't stop.

Just as his lips brush over hers, they both hear someone loudly clear their throat. Rafe groans and closes his eyes, and Jenna pulls away from him with a sigh. When she turns to look for the source, her stomach drops when she lays her eyes on JJ. He has an apron around himself, and is holding a pen and paper. His eyes are hard, gaze burning into hers.

"JJ," Rafe greets, but it sounds more as if he means to say, oh, great. You.

"JJ," Jenna repeats, her voice lighter than Rafe's had been.

"What can I get you?"

His words are harsh, unfriendly. She frowns, and something blossoms in Rafe's chest.

"Hey, man, sorry. Haven't even looked yet. Been a little busy," Rafe's voice is snarky, and he leans closer to Jenna just because he can.

JJ clenches his jaw, eyes beading into Rafe's, then speaks again.

"I'll be back, then."

He walks away, and Jenna watches as Rafe relaxes in his seat. She hadn't noticed when he initially puffed his chest out, but the fact that he did makes her scoff.

"Your possessiveness is unbecoming, Cameron," she teases him, echoing her words from the day they'd walked into the Club together.

He grins, "Oops. Think I hurt his feelings?"

"Probably."

She opens the menu sitting between them, the other one still on the opposite side of the table. Rafe watches as she glances over the options, not seeming to mind about JJ's emotions. His eyes glaze over, watching her being his new favorite activity.

"You don't care?" he asks quietly.

He'd seen them talking before, at Midsummers, at the Club during lunches, and he'd noted the way JJ looks at her. He'd always wondered if she had reciprocating feelings for him, if she felt the same.

She chuckles, "No. I'd rather spend time with you than play therapist to JJ."

Rafe grins. He leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek, then rests his head on her shoulder as they both look over the food options. If she doesn't care about JJ, he won't either. The sense of protection, the need to mark his territory, melts away as he breathes her in.

To her, this day feels like their own. Nothing can change the way she'd felt at the marina. Not even JJ Maybank.

When JJ returns to the table, awkwardly scratching the back of his head and eyeing the way Rafe's fingertips brush Jenna's shoulder blade around the back of her chair, he only asks them to order.

Rafe watches JJ's glances, as if he's trying to subtly ask her what the fuck she's doing. Jenna only looks up at him to order, then looks down again. Just as Rafe starts to wonder if she's hanging her head down in shame, embarrassed by the scrutiny of the boy, she moves her head up again and places a hand on his knee. JJ registers the movement and his jaw wounds tigther, but Rafe grins so big he swears this can't be his life. Once Rafe orders, JJ retreats to the back again without another word.

"Your possessiveness is completely becoming, Tucker," Rafe teases her, eyeing her hand still on his knee.

She laughs and squeezes his flesh, then lets her hand relax on him. While they wait, Jenna grills Rafe on his favorite book ("does Playboy count?") and they both rank their top five favorite movies. Rafe teases her, she laughs, and they both feel as if they've finally found some sort of safe haven amongst their messy lives.

Soon, they're both too wrapped up in their food and each other to be paying attention to JJ, or the numerous people who file in. Jenna thinks, in between Rafe's questions, how long it's been since she felt happy. She'd spent so long inside this web of lies, manipulation, mistrust, and anger. She'd cut herself off from most of her friends, holding the remainder at arms length. Rafe is the first person who's broken those barriers down, who's made her feel that she's worth the effort.

Rafe throws his napkin down on his plate as he finishes his food, then turns and angles his body so he can see her better. She smiles shyly and sinks down in her seat, feeling him bring his hand up to run it through her hair. He twirls it around his fingers absentmindedly, reveling in the softness and the scent. Lavender and vanilla seems to be his new favorite smell.

"I have to ask you something," he warns, watching her look up at him.

"Okay."

"What did Kelce lie to you about?"

Jenna takes a deep breath, "He told me at Midsummers he had nothing do with Josh being on the boat that night. I believed him at first, which is how I ended up at Topper's party. When you told me he brought Josh, I realized I couldn't trust him. It's stupid, I know-"

"It's not," Rafe shakes his head, the words coming out easily, "He's your brother. And you don't deserve to be lied to."

Jenna's eyes flicker down to her lap, picking at her nail polish. Rafe can tell she wants to speak, so he gives her time to find the right words. He watches as she swallows, and when she looks back up at him, her eyes are soft.

"I just - I don't have room in my life to be trusting the wrong people. I've spent so long thinking it's easier to trust no one than to put my faith in the wrong people. It's too hard. I know you were honest with me today at the marina, and I know that was a big thing for you. I guess I want you to know that I trust you. Just, please, don't make me regret it."

He just nods, stilling his hand against her hair. He wants to kiss the vulnerable expression off her face, to whisper promises about how she won't regret it, that he'll be the man she needs. Something about the moment, the confession, keeps him still.

"I promise," he almost whispers.

Jenna gives him a soft smile, and that's all it takes. His hand travels up to the back of her neck, and he leans in then. Her smile only widens before he presses his lips to hers, keeping it soft, gentle, reassuring.

"I promise," he repeats against her mouth, "You're not alone anymore."

The words travel straight through the air and into her chest, filling a hole in her heart she hadn't known existed until this moment. He pulls her into him by her neck, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. It feels like every broken piece, every part of her that had been shattered by her father, gets glued right back together as he holds her.

When she pulls back from him, he checks his watch and frowns. Time seems as if it's passing them up; taking rather than giving to them.

"I should get you home, huh?" he asks.

"Probably," she agrees.

Rafe pays the bill despite Jenna's protests that she can pay for her own. When they stand, he reaches for her hand before he even fully registers the movement. She smiles as she takes it, the gesture seeming like so much more than just simply holding her hand. They pass JJ on their way out; standing at the counter and glaring at the two as he pretends to be using the register. Jenna just squeezes Rafe's hand and then follows him out, not thinking twice about her favorite waiter at the Club.

"So," Rafe starts once they get outside, strolling easily toward his truck, "How long's JJ had a thing for you?"

"Relax, Cameron," she teases.

"Just need to be aware of the competition, that's all," he jokes.

She lets him open the passenger door for her and gets inside, watching from the rear view mirror as he rushes around to the driver's side. When he gets inside, he flips on the radio and backs out of his spot, noticing the sunset happening to the left of them.

"If we had the time, I'd take you to the pier to watch the sunset," he smirks at her.

She laughs, "Is that where you take all of your girls?"

Intending it as a joke, she notices when he clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes on the road in front of him. She opens her mouth to apologize, to explain she'd meant it to tease him, but he speaks first.

"There are no other girls, Jenna."

Taking in the seriousness in his voice, she just nods. She looks at the sunset out of the corner of her eye, then smiles softly.

"Another time," she promises quietly.

"Whenever you want," he agrees.

They arrive at her house quickly, Rafe pulling his truck to the exact spot he'd stopped it in to pick her up. She smiles at him when he turns to her, then grabs ahold of the door handle.

"Thank you for today, Rafe," she says, then pulls open the door.

"Uh-uh," he grabs her wrist, pulling her back to her place, "That's not going to work for me. I suspect you knew that."

She smirks and closes the door again, then leans across the console. He wastes no time and neither does she, pressing their lips together like they'd been meant to do it their entire lives. Rafe's hand trails from her arm to her back, attempting to bring her only closer.

Jenna brings a hand to his jaw, cupping it in her hand and tracing his stubble with her pointer finger. Rafe deepens the kiss almost immediately after this motion, as if he could never get enough of her. When Jenna pulls away, lips puffy and pink, he groans.

"Better?" she teases him.

"Getting there," he nods, attempting to pull her back in.

"I really should get inside," she says, pecking him one last time, "Seriously, thank you for today."

"You're welcome. I had a great time with you," he replies, meaning every word.

"Me, too."

She hops out of the car and gives him one last smile, one that he wishes he could burn into his brain and remember for the rest of his life. He watches her walk up to the house and unlock the front door, then turn and wave before she shuts it. Rafe exhales and falls back in his seat, realizing that for the first time in his life, he's completely and totally smitten.

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frekydeki · 4 years ago

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Hiya :) I was wondering if you could do hcs (or whatever!) with Bakugou where reader is having a rough time because they finally talked to an adult about *buse that they went through in the past? This week I found the courage to talk to the police about the gr**ming and ab*se a former friend did to me and wouldn’t mind some fluff but if this is uncomfortable please feel free to delete this!

You are so strong dear! It’s not easy to open up about that sort of thing, I’m soooo sosososoo proud of you!!! 💕 I hope this puts a smile on your face, dearie, even for a second. Thank you for your request too, this was the first headcanon I've done, and it was really refreshing to write this way! Xoxo

ps. I don't want to overstep my boundaries, but if you ever need to talk, I'm here! I'm a stranger on the other side of the screen, but I'll listen well to you, scouts honor. This invitation is open to everyone: if you need someone to talk to, message me! Ily.

Bakugo with S/O who’s down because of opening up about past abuses

Everyone, say hello to super soft, extra supportive Bakugo.

Generally, Bakugo is soft and affectionate with his gestures towards you, but his words can sometimes be harsh: this boy cannot use his words pls understand this 😖

But in fluffy times like these, this man is sweeter than candy to you

He’ll notice something is bothering you instantly, like

Why the hell are you so quiet?

Your smile and laugh are off... why the hell aren’t you making eye contact with anyone?

Your eyes are distant, downcast; ugh he’s so worried he can’t stop glancing at you throughout class.

Shifting a bunch in his seat, super uncomfortable and can’t get his mind off of you: why the hell do you look like you’re on the verge of tears?

He’s in agony, trying to remember if something he said recently could have upset you.

Poor mans is tearing his hair out trying to put two and two together and come up with a game plan.

Great strategist in school but when it comes to you he doesn’t know what the hell.

Usually goes with his gut, flying by the edge of his seat, not knowing what the hell he’s doing in a relationship but he low key loves it.

Anyways, he’s got no dice in trying to figure out if he upset you.

He does what any normal boyfriend would do: he holds your hand.

But that makes his alarms get louder; you pull away slightly before realizing it’s him, and then relax your hand into his, drifting off to wherever the hell you’ve been again

“That’s how you wanna play it, Y/n? Fine, I’ll play that way” he thinks in a rage as he pouts slightly and let’s out a huff of air.

This guy is such a baby he will throw a fit whenever you stop snuggling him, holding his hand, hanging on his arm, etc

Bakugo acts like he doesn’t like PDA but literally blows a gasket when you stop holding his hand I cannot be swayed on this concept.

You stayed after school a little bit to talk with Aizawa, and Bakugo was in action mode:

He buys snacks. Buys your favorite meal from you favorite restaurant, high tails it back to the dorm and shows up at your door with a blush on his cheeks and bags lining his arms.

“What are you doing Katsuki?”

“I got you snacks.” He grumbles, “What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” He knows you’re down, and he’s responding with the best way he knows how:

Actions.

His love language is acts of service can’t convince me otherwise.

He quickly pulls out the meal and sets all the snacks and side dishes set up like a buffet.

Side note: this man would absolutely peel your clementine's for you, would also make you a five star meal in the middle of the night if you asked just be ready for some mumbled insults...

“I’ve been down today haven’t I?” You’re the one to bring it up...

Bakugo respects boundaries, and is a firm believer that you will talk to him when you’re ready.

“Yeah...”

“Sorry-“

Absolutely not.

“Don't apologize for having emotions... it’s stupid” he adds, but scolds himself afterwards for being harsh with his words again... “You needta talk?” He quietly asks over food.

“Yeah...” You explain to him why you’ve been so out of focus; opening up about your past abuse to an adult is scary, it’s vulnerable, and your freaking out to say the least.

For some reason you felt ashamed, helpless, that you couldn’t stop it.

Again, he’s not having it.

“It’s not your fault.” No ifs, ands, or buts; it’s not your fault. “They took advantage of you, you trusted them and they used it against you, the fuck-“ he bites down on his lip and tries to blink away the frustrated tears in his eyes.

Sure, he’s trembling with rage, and he’d knock the person out if he ever saw them, but more importantly, he’s so heartbroken for you

It broke his heart that you have to live with those memories and emotions, he wanted to shield you from them but he couldn’t and he knew it...

“I am so damn proud of you.” He will hold you gently, resting his chin on top of your head, which is cradled to his chest.

From then on, Bakugo communicates his support in the way he best knows how when you get into this mindset:

If your room gets a little cluttered, he cleans it without saying a word.

If you don’t feel like doing your laundry, he sits you down with your favorite book and does it for you.

Don’t feel like leaving bed? Worry not! Bakugo loves cuddling you and could do it all day.

Did someone say breakfast in bed? Favorite comfort movie? Check and check, Bakugo is always ready to respond to your emotional state.

Absolutely insists you take a shower, at least to wash your body.

“You’ll feel so much better after baby.” Totally has favorite pair of pajamas and a snack ready for you upon your return.

Will absolute fight anyone who won’t leave you alone about it.

“Y/n you’ve been so quiet lately...”

“Oí, y/n doesn’t wanna talk about it, yeah?” Fire burning in his eye, very intimidating.

Gets a little sassy but that’s okay.

“You owe me dinner and a movie after you feel better.”

Always grumbles while making food for you, “what am I? Your personal chef? A maid?”

“What’d you say? Sorry I couldn’t hear you...”

“Nothing. I love you.”

Seriously he’s the best in these situations.

This mans adores you, and will support you through every up and down. His words may be a little harsh sometimes, but his actions get his point across:

Bakugo loves you and will be there every second, through every up and down, supporting you.

taglist: @zeyyackerman, @chibiiichann

#bnha #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo fluff #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bakugo katsuki #Hurt/comfort bnha #Bakugo hurt/comfort #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader fluff #bakugo x y/n fluff #bakugo katsuki x you #I hope this is good #bnha imagines #bakugo katsuki x y/n

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