#pogue!bartender!universe

[itneverendshere]

addicted to your rafe!! you mentioned in the bartender!reader au that rafe shared his life story after their first time together and was just wondering if youd ever write about it? would love to read about rafe spilling all (in more ways than one hehe) and reader's reaction but only if its something youre interested in writing!!

i was planning on making the smut really cute BUT...it got a little out of hand bc they're both horny so....enjoy!!! but there's fluff i promise. and he spills everything (eheheh)🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️😌🫢 thank you for the request 🩵🫂

i'll do anything you say, if you say it with your hands - r.c (+18)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: SMUT!!!!; a little angst by the end and lots of fluff.

It's past midnight, and you’re sprawled out on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You’re still in your ratty tank top and sleep shorts, some throwaway show mumbling in the background.

The night’s quiet, a little too quiet, so when you hear a low thump at the window, you nearly jump out of your skin.

But you know that sound. That’s Rafe.

You glance over just as his messy dark blond head pops up outside the window, blue eyes gleaming mischievously. Your heart does this stupid thing, and you’re grinning before you even realize it. You slide the window up quickly, shushing him though you know he’s careful.

"Hi,” You whisper, leaning into him the second he’s in, his broad shoulders blotting out the rest of the room.

“Miss me?” he murmurs back, lips quirking as he brushes a hand through your hair.

“Maybe a little,” You tease, tugging him closer by the front of his shirt. Rafe’s standing there in just a pair of worn jeans and a black T-shirt that clings to every hard line of muscle.

God, it should be illegal for him to look this good.

His hair is still damp at the tips, like he just came from a shower. He leans down and kisses you, his fingers moving to the bare skin at your waist. You’ve been doing this dance for two months now. All hot make-outs that never really go anywhere. Mostly because you’re the one always getting called away for shifts, for family, for whatever comes up.

But right now, right here? There’s no work, no responsibilities. It’s just you and him. And the way he’s looking at you right now, all hooded eyes and smirking lips, it’s driving you crazy.

“Why’d you sneak in, hmm?” You murmur against his lips, playing with the hem of his shirt. He pulls back, just enough to look down at you, a lazy smile on his face.

“Wanted to see you,” he breathes, eyes tracing over me like you’re something to devour. “Couldn’t wait.”

You practically pounce on him, shoving him back until he’s pinned against the wall by the window, his eyes widening for a split second before his hands are holding your hips, steadying you as you sit on his lap. You love it when he manspreads.

It’s so unlike you it’s almost funny, but at this point you’re desperate to feel him. You press yourself up against him, grinding slowly, and you feel the exact moment he realizes just how serious you are right now.

“Fuck, baby—” he groans as his grip tightens, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. But you don’t want him to hold back.

“I’m done waiting,” You breathe, pushing his shirt up and over his head in one quick motion. “Rafe—I’m losing my mind here.” His shirt hits the floor, and you lel yourself really look at him.

All muscle, golden tan skin, the little dip between his abs you’ve fantasized about running your tongue along. You’ve seen him shirtless a million times, but right now?

He’s a goddamn masterpiece.

“I’m so horny it hurts, okay?” You admit in a whisper, almost like you can’t help it. His lips twitch as he leans in, his breath hot against your neck.

You feel your cheeks heat up. It’s not like you’re shy around him anymore, not really, but this feels different. You’re usually more reserved, the one who lets him make the moves, but tonight...you can’t help yourself.

“Sorry baby,” he murmurs as he rolls his hips up, and fuck, you can feel how hard he is already, straining against his jeans, “Want me to fix it for you?”

You know what he’s asking. You’ve had this conversation before—kind of.

The two of you have been skirting around it for weeks now, with heavy petting and breathless goodnights. You want more. You hook your fingers into his belt loops, tugging at him, and he hisses, biting back a curse. 

“Bed” he grunts, half-laughing, half-panting as he lifts you like you weigh nothing, carrying you across the room.

You’re already tearing at his belt by the time you hit the bed, and he lets out this breathless, desperate sound, half-plea, half-growl that shoots straight through you.

“Need you,” You gasp, yanking the belt free, popping the button on his jeans. He’s still standing, hovering over you as you sit on the bed, and you look up at him, chest heaving, hair messy, eyes wild.

“Yeah?” he breathes, and there’s this edge to his voice. You smirk, tugging his zipper down slowly, deliberately, keeping your eyes on his as you push his jeans down his hips.

“Yeah,” You know you have him. He’s yours, and he’s done waiting, too.

Once his jeans hit the floor, he’s on you, all heat and muscle. Rafe’s hands grip your wrists, pinning them above your head as he looks down at you, breathing hard. 

“I was trying to make it special,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost gravelly. “Our first time.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, he’s so stupidly and unexpectedly endearing sometimes it makes you fall even more.

“This not special enough for you?” You tease, arching your back and lifting your hips, feeling the slickness pooling between your thighs. “I don’t do it for you?”

“Oh, you do it for me, baby. Believe me.” His voice drops an octave, “’M trying to be a gentleman.”

“I don’t want a gentleman,” You quip, your tone playful, “I just want you.”

He wants to give in, but you know he also wants to take his time. “You sure about this?”

“Rafe. My shorts are stuck to my skin.”

He breathes in sharply, head dropping to your shoulder, as he murmurs, “You’re not wearing any panties?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. What’s it to you?” You tease, biting your lip, but you know you’re being a little reckless, teasing him like this.

He’s gonna get you good.

Rafe lifts his head, that infuriatingly handsome smirk still plastered on his face. “So you are, huh?” His voice is low, almost predatory. “You trying to drive me crazy?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool even though it physically hurts not to touch him the way you want to right now. “What if I am?”

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. You arch against him, your breath hitching when he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear and sucks gently.

Your top hits the floor a second later. He’s kissing you again, his hands cupping you through your bra.

“Please,” you breathe, not even sure what you are asking for.

More, closer, something to stop the aching between your thighs. He seems to understand, though. He always does. 

He unclasps your bra and tosses it aside, taking you in inch by inch, “My pretty girl,” You feel a blush creep up your cheeks, but before you can think about it, he dips his head and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, he hums against your skin, the vibration making you delirious. His hand slids down to your shorts, pulling them with an easiness that makes your head spin.

Then they are gone, too, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Rafe pulls back slightly, his eyes raking over your body with a look that makes you squirm.

“Beautiful,” he mutters, almost to himself. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Rafe,” you whisper, reaching for him. When he finally slips his fingers into your panties, you are already trembling. “Please,” you whimper, rocking your hips against his hand.

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He’s touching you, his fingers finding your slick heat and stroking gently. You’re so wet his flingers glid right on. You gasp, hips bucking up instinctively as his fingers move across your folds, teasingly slow and close to your clit.

Rafe smirks, clearly enjoying how wrecked you already are.“Easy, baby,” his lips brush against your jawline. “We got all night.”

You’re past patience.

You grab his wrist, guiding his hand exactly where you want it. “Rafe,” you groan, your voice breaking a little, “I need more. Don’t piss me off.”

He chuckles, “So needy tonight,” he teases, but his voice is tight, like he’s losing it too. His fingers dip lower, stroking where you need him most, and you nearly lose it right there.

He lingers there for a moment, just barely grazing your slick folds, before pressing a finger against your entrance, warm and insistent. Slowly, he slides it in, and the sensation makes you moan—a slow, deliberate stretch as his finger sinks deep inside you. He curls it just the way you need him to, stroking your inner walls. It’s intimate, almost unbearable in how good it feels, the way he’s taking his time, drawing it out like he’s savoring every second. You tighten around him, wet and hot, and he groans softly as he adds another finger, filling you more, the stretch making your legs tremble.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your head falling back as he starts to pump his fingers in and out. The way his fingers stretch you, the wet sounds of him working you open, is filthy and intoxicating.

“Like that, baby?” His voice is thick with lust, his free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread wide for him. He’s so strong it makes you want to suck him whole.

You nod frantically, too far gone for words, only able to moan as he quickens the pace, thrusting his fingers in harder. Your walls flutter around him, tightening with every stroke, and you know you’re getting close—embarrassingly quick, but it’s been a while. 

His thumb circles your clit, and the sensation makes you cry out, your body arching off the bed.

“Oh God—please,” you gasp, your fingers clutching at his arm, desperate for more. He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you’re panting beneath him. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, and he knows it.

His lips brush against your neck, teasingly slow, while his fingers move with purpose, hitting all the right spots. Your breath is coming in short, ragged bursts as your body answers to his. You can feel the heat coiling tight in your belly, and you’re practically shaking with anticipation.

He presses his forehead against yours, his breath uneven, eyes locked on you as if he’s watching every bit of pleasure cross your face.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs, his voice just as wrecked, “Let me feel you.”

You’re so close it’s dizzying, you can barely catch your breath. 

He leans in, lips caressing your ear, “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “I can feel you’re almost there. You’re so tight around my fingers—fuck, you’re close, aren’t you?” You can only nod, your breath hitching as his thumb circles your clit with just the right pressure, your hips grinding up into his hand instinctively. every word out of his mouth pushes you closer. “Look at you,” he coaxes, his voice like velvet, “So perfect.”

His fingers twist inside you, hitting that sweet spot, and your whole body tenses. The pleasure builds into a burning coil deep in your tummy, tightening with every movement.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, and all you can do is feel—feel him, feel the way he’s working you. The way he’s talking you through it. 

“Just like that,” he whispers, “You’re doing so good, baby. Let me feel it.”

His thumb presses harder against you, and your whole body jerks up. You cry out, a broken sound, your hips bucking uncontrollably as your orgasm hits you perfectly. Rafe’s fingers never stop, drawing it out, his other hand still gripping your thighs open “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful when you come.” Your body trembles beneath him, the pleasure still vibrating through you, and he’s right there, “Ride it out, baby,” he breathes, his lips kissing your temple, his voice full of pride. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”

You can’t do anything but cling to him as you shudder. He finally slows his fingers, easing you down gently, and when he pulls them out, you feel the emptiness like a loss. You’re still catching your breath, body buzzing from the orgasm he just wrung out of you, but you notice the shit-eating grin on his face as he glances down at his hand, fingers still slick from you, and then slowly brings them to his mouth.

He holds your gaze, never breaking eye contact as he slips his fingers between his lips, tasting you. It’s slow and the way his eyes darken while his tongue sweeps over his fingers makes you whine. 

"God, baby," he murmurs around his fingers, as he pulls them from his mouth with a soft pop, licking his lips. “You taste so fucking good.”

You’re breathless, watching him like you’re in a trance, your heart pounding in your chest. The sight of him tasting you like that, makes your legs open again. He grins, noticing how wrecked you look. “Didn’t think I could want you more,”

You’re still so turned on that you can’t help the way your thighs squeeze together instinctively. His eyes flicker down, catching the movement, and his grin only widens as he crawls back up your body, settling between your legs, “Don’t tease.”

"Don’t worry, baby," his lips skim against yours, “Not teasing anymore.”

You don’t know where you get the strength to do it. But you do it anyways. 

As soon as Rafe settles back, you push him onto his back, taking advantage of his surprised expression, and climb on top, straddling his waist, your hands braced against his chest. You can feel the hard planes of his abs beneath your fingers, and the heat of him pressed against your pussy makes your mouth water. You can feel it building inside you, the need to take him, to ride him until there’s nothing left.

His hands settle on your ass, firm, but not controlling, giving you full reign to take what you want. His eyes are on yours, half-lidded and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Go on, baby,” he drawls, his voice like honey, “Show me what you can do.”

You don’t even remember pulling his boxers down.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You let yourself brush against the hard length of him, and the sensation alone makes you bite your lip to hold back a moan. His cock is thick, long and hot beneath you, and you grind against him slowly, dragging your wetness along his length, teasing the both of you. You’re rocking back and forth against his tip, dragging him in between your soaked folds and pulling huffs and puffs from his throat as he only grows more impatient by the second.

“Fuck,” Rafe groans, his hips jerking up involuntarily, your clit rubbing against his pubic hair with every movement, the friction doing it for you. His abs tense beneath you, flexing with each of your movements, and the sight of it—of him completely at your mercy—only makes you wetter. 

You lean forward, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the way his muscles move under your touch.

“You like that?” you murmur, your voice breathy, teasing, as you grind harder against him. “Like watching me ride you?”

Rafe’s head falls back against the pillow, all the way back, his jaw clenched, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips tighter, lifting his hips to try and shift his cock towards your entrance.

You lean in, your lips dragging against the side of his neck. He shivers under your touch, and the reaction makes you grin. You start off slow, pressing gentle kisses to his skin, your lips trailing from his jaw down to the spot where his pulse is beating just a little faster, teasing him with your breath.

“Right here?” you whisper, barely grazing his skin.

You can feel his body tense as you speak, a low sound escaping his throat. You roll your hips again, this time letting the tip of his cock catch at your entrance. You’re so wet that he slides in just an inch, and the stretch is enough to make you gasp, your nails digging into his chest. His eyes fly open, and you can see the tension in his body, every muscle tight as he holds himself back from pouding into you, waiting for you to take him fully.

You press your mouth to his neck and start sucking, enjoying the taste of him under your lips.

His grip on is borderline bruising and you love it when another low moan slips out as you work your mouth against him. You make sure to take your time, alternating between sucking and nipping lightly with your teeth, just enough to make him shudder beneath you.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice strained as you keep going, making sure to leave your mark. With a deep breath, you sink dow, slowly feeling every inch of him stretch you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming—he’s big, almost too big, and it feels so fucking good you almost drool. By the time you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, your thighs are shaking, and you can feel the heat pooling in your belly all over again.

You suck harder, enjoying the multitasking, applying enough pressure enough to leave a dark bruise that he won’t be able to hide. His fingers dig into your waist, but he doesn’t pull you away—instead, he’s holding you there, like he wants to feel every second of it.

“Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine," You manage to breath out, moaning as you grip his chest for support, spit slicked lips parting as you gasp some more, "You feel so good."

His eyes are hooded as he looks down at you, lips parted, breathing uneven. “Yeah?” he rasps, his gaze flicking to your lips before he grins, a little breathless. “Didn’t think you had it in you, baby.”

His hands slide up your waist, his fingers splayed across your ribs, guiding you as you start to move. You start to ride him, slow at first, grinding your hips in slow, deliberate circles. The friction, combined with the way his cock fills you, hits every nerve just right. Maybe if it was someone else you’d be embarrassed to be panting like a bitch in heat, but it’s Rafe and you never felt so comfortable during sex before.

Every time you lift your hips and drop back down, you take him deeper, as you work yourself on top of him. His hands slide up to your tits, squeezing gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

You pick up the pace, bouncing on him harder now, grinding down with each thrust, chasing that high. Rafe’s eyes are glued to you, watching every move you make, his lips parted, his chest heaving with each stolen breath.

“Fuck,” you pant, barely able to catch your breath as you ride him faster, “I want you so deep, so bad.”

He lets out a rough, desperate groan, his hips bucking up to meet yours, his cock hitting even deeper inside you. “I’m right here, baby,” he grits out, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back, “Take what you need. I’m all yours.”

His hands are on you, gripping your ass with a desperation that makes you mewl out. His fingers dig in, rough and possessive, and the way he’s groping you, like he can’t get enough, makes you want to never stop. Each time you move, his hands flex, squeezing and pulling you down onto his cock, it has you practically whining with every bounce.

“You’re driving me crazy. Just look at you, taking me so good.”

His grip tightens as you roll your hips, pushing your ass back against his hands, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you. You’re completely lost in the rhythm now, grinding down on him like you’re in heat, the friction of his cock inside you and the way his pubic hairs rub against your swollen clit making you lightheaded.

And then, out of nowhere, his hand comes down hard.

The sting of his palm smacking your cheek sends a shock through your body, and you gasp—half surprise, half pleasure. It’s rough, but fuck, it feels divine. Your head snaps forward, and you moan, the sound coming out needy. 

“You like that, huh?” Rafe growls, a smile playing on his lips as he watches you react. His voice is thick with satisfaction, knowing exactly what he just did to you. “Being spanked?”

You bite your lip and nod, too far gone to be shy. "Yes," you pant, your voice shaky with need. "Do it again."

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hand comes down again, harder this time, it makes your skin burn and clench around him. The pleasure spikes, white-hot, and you moan louder, your body arching into his.

"Fuck, you're so sexy like this," He groans, watching you with hooded eyes, clearly loving how much you’re enjoying it.

You practically whimper, the combination of pain and pleasure sending you spiraling. You’re riding him like you’re losing your mind, your thighs burning. The way his hand soothes your skin, kneading the tender area where he just spanked you, makes you want to do this every single day for the rest of your life.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest as he bucks his hips, meeting your movements with his own, driving deeper inside you. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“You feel so good,” you hiss as you rock your hips faster. His tip hits that perfect spot deep inside you, again and again.

His eyes flick between your face and where you’re connected, and you can tell he’s close too. His grip tightens on you, nails digging into your skin like he’s afraid to let go.

“You’re killing me, baby,” he rasps, voice hoarse, “Fuck, you’re so good. You’re gonna make me come.”

Feeling you wrapped around him like that—so fucking tight, so warm—he can’t fucking stand it. Every time you slide back down, taking him all the way like you're made for it, he feels his mind slipping. It's like he's losing control, just hanging on for dear life, and every little throb around him pulls him closer to his orgasm, it makes him feel dangerously close to delirium. 

He uses one of his hands to grip and knead at the fat of your hip. You let out a high-pitched squeal and clench around him. "Baby," you cry out, pretty tears collecting on your lash line. 

He pinches your chin lightly, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your skin, “You have to be quiet, pretty,” you glance up at your boyfriend, “The walls are thin, and you can’t—”

You interrupt him by leaning down and kissing him sloppily. You swirl your tongue around his, feeling the way his cock throbs inside you as he grinds up into you, hitting that spot every single time.

The sloppy kiss you planted on him shuts him up, but only for a second. His lips slide against yours, his tongue swirling in that messy, desperate way that makes your head spin. He groans into your mouth, rough and low, like he’s losing the control he’s trying to hold onto. His hand slides from your chin to the back of your neck, holding you in place as you ride him faster, bouncing harder on his cock.

“Look at you,” he grits, pulling back just enough to watch the way your face twists in pleasure. The way you clench down on him makes him groan, his grip on your neck tightening just a bit as his other hand lands another sharp slap on your ass.“You like when I fuck you like this, huh?”

You whine against his lips, your body trembling as he thrusts up harder, meeting each of your desperate bounces. You can feel the pressure building inside you, ready to snap. 

His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles that make you drop your head forward, laying on your body on top of his. You can’t stop the way you grind down harder on him, chasing that final push.

“Fuck, baby,” you gasp, barely able to push the words out. “I’m gonna—”

And then you’re gone, falling into that mind-numbing pleasure as you come hard around him, your whole body shaking, thighs tightening around his as your orgasm crashes over you. You’re clenching around his cock, the feeling making him curse under his breath, his hips bucking up into you as he chases his release.

He rams up into you, full force, his breath coming out in harsh, irregular pants. “I’m right there,” he groans, “Gonna fill you up, you want that?”

You can barely nod, still lost in the aftershocks of your orgasm, but that’s all he needs. With one final, deep thrust, he comes hard inside you, groaning your name as he spills into you. His hands grip you tight, holding you down on his length as he empties himself into you, his whole-body twitching with the intensity of his release

His hands roam lazily over your back, the touch slow, like he doesn’t want it to end. He’s still inside you, softening, but neither of you make a move to separate.

His lips press a few lazy kisses against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he murmurs. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You smile weakly, too blissed out to respond, and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. After a few minutes, you reluctantly lift yourself off him, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the loss of connection. Rafe lets out a content sigh, his hands still trailing down your sides as you move.

You flop down next to him, breath still shallow, your head resting on his chest. He immediately pulls you close, his arm wrapping around you, holding you tight.His hand stops moving, resting on your back, and you feel his chest rise as he takes a deep breath.

"My mom left when I was seven," he says, voice oddly quiet, almost hesitant, like he’s not sure where to start. It almost feels like he’s talking to himself more than to you. He’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, one arm slung across his stomach, the other still lightly resting on your waist.

You lift your head, looking up at him, but you stay quiet, giving him space to talk. 

“She just… up and left. Told me she was going to visit some family and never came back.” He lets out a short, bitter laugh, his chest rising and falling against you. “I used to sit at the window for weeks, thinking maybe I’d see her pull up one day. But she didn’t. She never did. And I thought, you know, for a long time, maybe it was me. Like, maybe if I’d been better, she would’ve stayed. I don’t know—kids think dumb shit like that, right?”

You feel your heart tighten at the pain in his voice, and you reach up, brushing your fingertips against his chest. He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel him lean into the touch just a little.

“And Ward… fuck, Ward didn’t know what to do with us. He just buried himself in work, left me to deal with Sarah and Weezie. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I was just a kid myself. I never accepted that responsibility, just kept running away from it.”

You can tell this is hard for him. His hand tightens slightly around your waist, like he needs to feel you’re still there.

“When I was sixteen... I started doing coke. Barry—yeah, that Barry—he used to sell it to me. Just to take the edge off, you know? Numb it all out. Ward’s expectations, Mom being gone, having to pretend like I had my shit together when I didn’t. I didn’t care about anything but getting high.”

He pauses, swallowing hard, his jaw tightening. You can tell this part of his story is the hardest to tell.

“I fucked up a lot. Scared the shit out of my sisters. I’d disappear for days sometimes, come home all strung out, and Sarah—God, Sarah would just look at me like... like she didn’t even know me anymore. Weezie was too young to get it, but Sarah? She knew.” He lets out a shaky breath, “I saw what it was doin’ to them. Saw how Sarah would flinch every time I walked through the door like she was waiting for the next disaster. It got bad—real bad.”

His voice drops even lower, almost like he’s ashamed.

“I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. The one scaring my little sisters, acting like a piece of shit. So I went to rehab. Didn’t tell anyone where I was going, just… left. I needed to get clean, for them. For me, too, I guess.”

He pauses, looking at you now, his blue eyes filled with something vulnerable, something that almost breaks your heart.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get out of it, but I did. Been clean since. That doesn’t mean I’ve figured everything out, though. I’m still... fuck, I’m still a mess most days.”

He’s never opened up to you like this before—not like this.You reach out and run your fingers through his hair, the simple gesture calming him a little. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. 

“You probably didn’t sign up for all this shit,” he says with a half-smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “Me, my addiction, all that.”

He opens his eyes, looking at you like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to tell him you can’t handle it. But you don’t say that. Instead, you brush your thumb across his cheek, “I signed up for you, Rafe. All of you.”

“I don’t talk about this shit much. Guess I didn’t think anyone cared enough to hear it.”

You move, propping yourself up on your elbow so you can look him the eyes properly,. “I care,” you say, your voice full of conviction. “I care about all of it. I’m here for you.”

He can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

His hand moves to hold your cheek, pulling you down to meet his lips in a slow, tender kiss. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“You have no idea what you mean to me.”

He kisses you again, this time deeper, his hand sliding up the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair.

His lips trail from your mouth, pressing lazy kisses down your jaw, over your neck. He shifts, pulling you closer, your body molding perfectly to his. “I don’t deserve you,” he mutters, his lips hovering over your collarbone.

You shake your head, resting a hand on his chest. “You do. You deserve someone who’s gonna be there for you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

You know this is a side of Rafe not many people see—probably no one else does. 

“Good thing you won’t have to find out.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he murmurs, his lips twitching into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says suddenly, the words spilling out of him in this quiet, almost reverent way.

You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you as you lean down, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

He chuckles softly, pulling you closer again, his arms wrapping securely around you. His cheek rests against the top of your head. You’re not going anywhere. And neither is he.

Rafe lets out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand over his face. “I can’t believe your pussy made me trauma dump after sex.”

The crudeness of it makes you roll your eyes.

“Yeah?” You tease lightly, “That what you’re calling it?”

He swallows, feeling that familiar tightness in his throat, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating this time. You’re still here. “No. It’s...you. Just—being you.”

He doesn’t know how to say it any better, doesn’t know how to put into words what it means to finally be seen — not as the perfect son, not as a ticking time bomb — just as Rafe.

But you peck him, simple and sweet.

“I guess I’ll just keep being me.”

The next morning you’re standing in the kitchen, lazily pouring milk over your cereal, still a little giddy from the night before. Rafe left earlier, before anyone was up, whining about how he wished he could stay longer.

As you take a spoon, your sister walks in with Milo perched on her hip, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Monica stops in her tracks, a sly smile creeping across her face.

“Nice hickey you got there,” she says, raising an eyebrow and gesturing toward your neck.

You choke on your cereal like an idiot.

“Uh, it’s just a... a bug bite! A really aggressive bug bite,” you stammer, trying to sound convincing as you awkwardly touch your neck.

Right, you’d forgotten about that after round three this morning.

She laughs, clearly not buying it. “Right. And when am I meeting him? Are you gonna make him sneak through the window again?”

You can’t help but giggle at the mental image. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Monica rolls her eyes, clearly enjoying this way too much. “What’s next? Is he going to slide down a fire escape to avoid us?”

You smirk back, shaking your head. “Only if you promise not to scare him off with your ‘get-to-know-my-sister’ interrogation.”

Milo, oblivious to the banter, tugs at your sister’s hair. “Mommy, can I have a snack?”

“Just finish getting ready for pre-school, buddy!” She turns back to you, still wearing that teasing grin. “Seriously though, when do I get to meet this guy? I need to know if he’s worthy of you.”

You shrug playfully, trying to keep your expression neutral. “We’ll see. Maybe next time he sneaks through the window, you can just happen to be in the living room.”

She gasps in mock horror. “Oh no, imagine the chaos! I might just scare him away on purpose.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly excited! You better let me know when he’s back. I want to be ready to intimidate him.”

“Noted!” You wave her off, still grinning, secretly glad that your sister is supportive—even if she loves to poke fun at you.

For some reason, it doesn’t scare one bit thinking about Rafe meeting Monica and Milo.

[itneverendshere]

this is so rafe coded in the bartender!reader universe 🥹

[itsthecline]

introducing… maybank!reader

maybank!reader who always knew of rafe and his reputation , but she didn’t truly know him until she started working at the country club. he was always there , drinking with kelce and topper or out on the course. when you started bartending there , rafe would stick around longer. it was always to bother you. he would flirt with you ‘despite you being a pogue’. after long , he started actually flirting with you , telling you how much he liked coming here now that he saw you.

maybank!reader who started dating rafe before season one and was the one to make it very clear that it would be kept a secret. you knew exactly how all of your friends and especially your brother felt about him. there was no universe that them finding out could ever go well. you loved rafe , but that was off the table. rafe agreed as well , not necessarily wanting to come out dating a pogue to his friends.

maybank!reader who does not play about her brother. she was seven minutes older than jj ; she never let him forget it. yes , he was her twin , but first he was her baby brother. when it came to their father , she always stepped in — luke not having the balls to take his anger out on his daughter. and each time she caught wind of rafe and jj getting into it? blocked. she wouldn’t speak to him until he came back groveling with an apology.

maybank!reader who always had really high highs and very low lows , but in poguelandia , she was at her absolute rock bottom. sarah had obviously talked to everyone about what happened with rafe , and it only reminded her that rafe was no longer the person she fell in love with. but god , she missed him. it was horrible. she was kidnapped in barbados and stuck with rafe at singh’s mansion with kie. rafe and her were put in a room , and kie down the hall. the entire time they were there was spent with him begging for her to forgive him.

maybank!reader who still hadn’t told anyone about her and rafe’s now buried relationship even after they returned home. she assumed that sarah knew considering everything that happened before they washed up on the island. she loved working on pougelandia 2.0 and living with her best friends , but being back on the island just reminded her of rafe. it had been so long , and she missed him. even through all of the shit , she missed him. and all she was getting were empty stares from a distance. it was hell.

taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @ravenmedows @yootvi @icaqttt

[maybankiara]

WHERE WE'D END UP AT THE END

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera summary: Kiara unexpectedly returns from her trip around the world with a confession for JJ. w/c: 7k a/n: au in which everything happened apart from the jiara kiss, and before the time jump, all the pogues went their separate ways. everything else is canon. pining, fluff, angst, confessions, this has got it all. masterlist | tag list read on archive of our own

He doesn’t know she’s back until he hears her voice coming from behind him. Even then, as he turns around, it’s hard to wrap his head around the fact that the person in front of him is more than a mere memory brought up by the June heat.

  Her name falls from his lips and, just like that, the Earth starts spinning again.

  For three years, JJ was the only Pogue on the island. Pope left for university and found himself a job there, staying over summer and only returning for a few days in winter to celebrate Christmas with his family. John B and Sarah decided to move to the Bahamas, permanently, away from the mess that the Outer Banks offered. Kiara decided that she wanted to see the world and then she decided to stay in it.

  Kildare wasn’t for any of them, but JJ was the only one without the option of leaving it. He settled down, instead, found work at a mechanic’s workshop and a part-time job as a bartender down at Figure Eight. Friends were scarce and fun was scarcer, yet JJ thought it to be the best turn of events – if he focused on getting money, someday he’d be able to escape, too.

  That was the plan, anyway. And now he’s at the Kook bar, reorganising the shelves because the shift is at its slowest point, and he hears the trembling voice he truthfully gave up on thinking he’d hear again.

  For all his charming mannerisms, they all seem to fall flat now. He’s just staring but his brain is unable to take in the image; a malfunction. A proper system shutdown.

  ‘I, uh… I’ll have a bit of that.’ She points at the bottle in JJ’s hands. He moves his finger a little, revealing the letters spelling out Jack Daniels: Fire. ‘Make it double.’

  All JJ manages is a meek nod and a: ‘Coming right up.’

  He turns his back to her and takes out a whiskey glass. His fingers are slippery enough it almost falls from his grip, but he holds onto it. He glances back and she’s got her eyes on him, her lips parted in a heavy sigh.

  ‘One for you, too,’ she says. There’s a ring on her finger she keeps fiddling with; it’s a new one. JJ tries not to stare at it. ‘If you’re allowed.’

  Without a word, JJ fetches another glass from the cupboard. He takes a small shot glass and lets the golden liquid trickle into it. It would be easier to have just taken the double-sized shot glass, but… he didn’t do it. He’s not stalling, it’s just more precise this way.

  JJ glances at her. ‘On the rocks or straight?’

  ‘On the rocks. It’s a hot day.’

  He turns around and opens the cupboard behind the bar, scooping up two ice cubes. Both of them go into a single glass that he hands over to her. The whiskey has a bitter smell and it just about burns his throat when he takes a sip of it.

  ‘So,’ he says, ‘you’re back.’

  Kiara Carrera’s lips relax into a smile that makes her eyes wrinkle a little. She lets out a chuckle, too, and JJ lets notes that her eyes look a little brighter now. Their colour is the same as it was when they first met as kids, but their owner is livelier. She looks a little taller, her face a little more defined, and it’s hard to believe it’s been merely three years since he’s last seen her.

  There’s still a band sitting on top of her hair, the tank top she’s wearing is in the same earthly tones he’s always known her in, and at the same time it feels as if no time has passed.

  She takes a big sip, shuts her eyes and shudders before letting out a big sigh, and chuckles.

  JJ feels the grin forming on his face. ‘You still can’t take whiskey?’

  ‘Nope. The true bane of my existence.’

  ‘Why order it, then?’

  ‘You know me,’ she says, offering a shrug. ‘I needed something strong. For the jitters.’

  ‘The jitters.’

  ‘Oh c’mon, JJ.’ Kie leans over the bar a little, just enough to give him a playful shove, smiling bright and wide. ‘I haven’t seen you in three years. It’s scary.’

  JJ quirks an eyebrow at her. The whiskey tastes a little more like cinnamon this time around and he rests his elbows on the bartop. ‘Do you find me scary, Ms Carrera?’

  She leans closer. ‘In your dreams.’

  They’re close enough that he can see her eyes aren’t fully a dark brown, but have lighter specks around the iris, looking almost like scattered golden dots. He’s seen this a million times before, but not in the last three years. It’s enough to draw a shaky chuckle out of him as he retreats, leaning his back against the wall underneath the shelves.

  ‘I’m glad to see you again, Kie,’ he admits. He can’t think of a world in which he isn’t, but he wants her to hear it, still. ‘The world looks good on you.’

  She flashes a smile, downing the last of her glass with a reaction equal to the first one. ‘You look good, too, JJ. I never would’ve thought that I’d find you here, of all places.’

  ‘In a Kook bar?’ His voice is quieter, as there’s people chatting away in some parts of the bar. If it were any quieter, he wouldn’t have risked saying it. ‘I have to assimilate so I can steal the money from the rich.’

  ‘I see you haven’t changed.’ It’s a light taunt, one that comes with a dose of admiration, and JJ happily takes it as a compliment.

  ‘They’ve got more than enough money. Put on a smile,’—he stretches his face into the kindest fake smile he can muster—‘listen to some of their troubles, and they’re at your feet.’

  ‘I’m glad that you’ve still got your charm.’

  ‘I’ve mastered it.’

  Kie rewards him with a genuine laugh, one that he hasn’t heard in too long, and he feels excitement bubbling in his chest. She hasn’t laughed quite so freely in… ever, probably. He doesn’t think the last time he’s seen her with her shoulders fully relaxed, a constant genuine smile on her face, and the ease with which she carries herself now.

  He meant it when he said that travelling the world suits her.

  ‘Anyway,’ she says. ‘I assume your customers are going to require your attention soon, and mine is required by my parents, who must be eager to see me back home.’

  ‘You haven’t been home yet?’

  ‘No.’ Her voice goes low again and her tongue runs over her bottom lip, her eyes wandering before settling back on JJ. ‘I needed a… whiskey.’

  For a moment, he thought she must’ve been as surprised as he was to find him here. If all she wanted was a whiskey and got a friend she hadn’t seen in years… But then he saw the nervousness in the gentle twitch of her lips, and the expectance of someone being in on an inside joke, and he clocked it.

  His chest heaves with a sigh, and he lets out the tension that managed to build up in the half a second his brain went into overdrive. ‘Just a whiskey.’

  ‘Just a whiskey.’

  We don’t talk about how we feel, he remembers one of Pogues saying once, when they were younger. We do things for each other and we say things that mean other things, but we’re never direct.

  It must’ve been Pope, because JJ remembers himself saying, It’s tough love, bub.

  What feels like a century later, they’re still behaving the very same way. It’s the Pogue thing. Except they’re adults now, all of them barely in contact with each other anymore, and maybe that behaviour is better left in the past.

  JJ reaches forward and covers Kie’s hand with his own, squeezing it lightly. ‘You’ve got this. If it doesn’t go well, give me a call.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Her thumb brushes the inside of his and she gives him a smile that makes him think that maybe nothing has changed, after all. ‘I’m definitely going to need a couple of drinks after that.’

  ‘My place is still back on the Cut, but I’ve got plenty of drinks for a night of catching up.’

  ‘Like the good old days,’ she says, and he echoes the words with a knowing smile on his face.

  He doesn’t care about the customers when Kie leaves. He doesn’t care about the old guy who always comes in and gives him shit for not giving him enough to drink, and always tries to get some for free – he doesn’t care about any of it. His phone is in his pocket and he only cares about when it’s going to buzz, when the second-hand watch on his wrist will show it’s 8 pm, when he’ll be able to get home and make it a little neater before she comes back.

  It’s one of his best and worst shifts. His mind keeps taking him back to her hand being in his, to their eyes locking, and he feels like he’s still sixteen, still hiding his feelings, still wishing the best for her and knowing he’s not it.

  Maybe things will be simpler now. They’re not kids anymore, and maybe that’s the one thing that will make it all more bearable.

  ★

She appears out of nowhere, unannounced, knocking on his door like she’s trying to break it down. JJ guesses it’s just her thing now.

  He opens the door and she scoots past him with a muttered thanks before her mouth starts working a mile a minute and her voice fills out the entirety of JJ’s modest apartment, and he’s a little overwhelmed.

  ‘Kie.’

  She turns on her feet, chest heaving as she catches her breath. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Calm down for a second.’ He closes the door and locks it, walks over to the living room (that is also the kitchen and the dining room and the guest bedroom) and plops down on the couch, waiting until she does the same. ‘What happened? And slow down this time so I can actually pay attention.’

  Kie nods, opens her mouth, then closes it. She throws a glance in the direction of the kitchen. ‘You want a beer?’

  ‘You’re asking me if I want a beer in my own house?’

  ‘Mhm.’ The next moment, she’s on her feet, and her head is in the fridge. She comes back to the couch with two beers, throwing one in his direction. ‘Needed one, figured you’d need one, too.’

  A sigh falls from JJ’s lips before he gets to stop it. ‘That bad?’

  ‘That bad.’

  He leans into the couch as the two open their beers and he doesn’t take his eyes off of his friend; she hasn’t started talking yet, which probably means she’s trying to think of what to say, and he likes to have a moment to prepare himself.

  When she came over for the first time, about three days ago, the two managed to mend most of what was broken by time and distance. It was a long night of catching up and he got to learn quite a bit about her adventures in Thailand and Bali, primarily, and she got to learn about what it feels like to work two jobs, one on the Cut and one in Figure Eight. Their experiences were vastly different, but they boiled to the same outcome – growing up. Understanding the world a little better.

  They’ve seen each other at least once every day since, and soon enough, it was like she never left. They went to the beach yesterday, did some surfing, then crashed a party at the Boneyard for a little bit before they ended up back at his place, both falling asleep on the stretched-out couch.

  It was like it had been before she left, but JJ knew it wouldn’t last. They aren’t teenagers anymore.

  This is why he waits for her to figure her things out, and then she spills the beans: her parents want her to stay on the island. With them.

  ‘It’s not like they don’t care about what I want,’ she says, not quite looking at JJ, but rather past him. He wonders if she’s looking at the derelict building right across the street, because that’s the only thing visible from the window. ‘They just don’t get it.’

  ‘Do you want to keep travelling?’

  Outside, a hawk chittered not far from the apartment.

  When Kie brings her eyes up to meet JJ’s, he sees the discomfort in them; the insecurity. ‘No,’ she says, quietly, ‘but I don’t know what I want. Just…’

  ‘Just not the island.’

  There’s a moment of silence. ‘Yeah.’

  JJ shuffles across the couch until his arm is over Kie’s shoulder and he pulls her into a half-hug. Her hair still smells like coconut, but also like something else, now. The same and different. ‘I get it, Kie. I really do. I would do the same if I could.’

  ‘You’re not mad?’ she asks, nestling her head in the crook of his neck; JJ tries not to shiver at the contact. ‘You will be alone again.’

  ‘I didn’t expect you to stay, Kie,’ he admits. ‘I thought you’d be around for a few days and then leave, because I know how much you hate this place. I’d never let you stay. I just— I couldn’t. It’s not right.’

  ‘I just hate it, you know. The idea of you here, all alone.’

  ‘I’m not all alone, though. I’ve got a life here. I belong here more than any of you do.’

  His hand gives her shoulder a gentle rub, and then he’s got the tips of her hair wrapped around his fingers, twirling them around. He’s not alone, he tells himself – there have been plenty of girls sharing the bed with him for the night. He talks to people at work, some people greet him on the street and he’s known them for the entirety of his life.

  He doesn’t like it here, but it’s where he’s meant to be.

  There always has to be a Maybank on the Cut.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kie says.

  JJ doesn’t look at her, because he hears the way her voice got caught up in her throat, and he doesn’t want to risk seeing her crying. It’ll break him. ‘You don’t have anything to be sorry for,’ he tells her instead, because he has an inkling of what this could be about.

  ‘I do. We all— we all left and didn’t look back.’

  ‘Pope comes home,’ argues JJ. ‘I see him sometimes.’

  ‘Three times in three years.’

  He doesn’t say anything to that, because he doesn’t have anything to say that would make her feel better, and the last thing he wants is to make the situation worse.

  ‘It’s fine, Kie,’ he tells her. A group of people walks underneath the window and JJ feels the need to slam it shut, but then the heat would burn them alive. Even sitting so close to her is a sacrifice he’s making, because his body heat keeps going up, and he feels his fingers becoming sticky.

  It shouldn’t matter. They’ve always been gross around one another. It’s the Pogue way.

  ‘Look, I’m my own person, okay? I love the Pogues, I love our little group, but we don’t live for each other. You’ve got your life, I’ve got mine. That’s what happens when you grow up.’

  ‘You grow apart,’ she says, and the words send a lump into his throat.

  In that moment, JJ finds himself wishing he had more than Kie to hold on to. His head drops backwards, first, and he takes a deep breath as his eyes blink away the tears. He can be level-headed in tough situations. He had to learn that in the past couple of years.

  He feels Kie stiffen on his chest, her fingers tugging at one another in his lap. Usually, he’s the fidgety one. Usually, he’s the one fumbling with words. Usually, he’s the having to pull himself together.

  When he lets his eyes close and rests his chin atop of Kie’s head, it’s an instinct rather than a decision. His hand drops from her hair until he’s pulling her into himself, feeling her body wrapped up within him.

  If he could shield her from the world, he could. He can only shield her from himself.

  He damns the heat welling up in his throat and holds her close, still.

  ‘You’re always going to have a home with me,’ he tells her. His thumbs rub her skin and he feels her press into him, her body quivering ever so slightly. ‘No matter how long we don’t see each other for, or if we don’t talk in years. If we have a falling out or some other shit happens. None of that matters. If you need me, I’ll come. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be right where you can find me.’

  Kie doesn’t sob, but her body shakes and he bites his own lip. The lump in his throat let him say those words, but it’s choking him now.

  He meant every word he said, though. That’s the only thing that matters.

  (JJ isn’t quite the one for finding the words for how he feels. John B is the only Pogue who could manage that with ease, with his grandiose acts of love for Sarah and whatnot. But this is Kie – she’s been one of his best friends for years and she knows his way with words and avoiding the truth. There’s no hiding from that.

  Not like he meant to hide, anyway. He doesn’t need to tell her his heart has belonged to her for a long time now, but he can tell her she’s got a home in it.)

  Kie stirs against his chest; he sees the green shirt has turned several shades darker in tiny circles, where her head had been.

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  She pulls away from him, staring ahead, where the TV is propped up on a stool made from pieces of an old wooden chair that had broke when JJ first moved in. She seems transfixed on it – is this how she sees JJ, maybe? Something that was meant for a purpose it was no longer fit for, then repurposed to keep living, to keep surviving in a world that’s against him?

  Maybe that’s how she saw herself, too. JJ certainly does. She’s sturdier than most people he’s met and it’s one of the things he admires about her the most.

  JJ runs a hand along her back, rubbing gentle circles. He doesn’t think about anything other than she deserves someone to care for her. When she looks at him, there’s a smile in the corners of her lips, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  ‘JJ?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  Kie gives him a long gaze, shaking her head to herself before she parts her lips again. ‘You know how when we were younger, I said that I’d always live every day like it was last?’

  He nods. It was shortly after the fiasco with the El Dorado – he couldn’t just forget that. ‘You said no regrets.’

  ‘And when I left, I thought I had none.’ She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her fingers are still pulling at the ring – she’d got it at a monastery in Nepal, allegedly a family heirloom from one of the monks she met there. She doesn’t look at him when she speaks. ‘It was great, at first. The freedom was like fresh air. It was all I ever wanted.’

  I know, he wants to say, you’ve told me this already. But he keeps quiet, still, because her tone wasn’t light.

  ‘I got bad, though. Sometimes I would just stay up, realising how far from home I was. I just felt like if something happened to me, it would take ages to get back to my family, to you. It wasn’t homesickness, it was kind of… I was aware of my mortality in a really weird way. I thought I was okay with that before I left, I thought I’d made peace with everything.’

  He catches her glance at him out of the corner of her eye and he tries offering her a smile, but it doesn’t really work.

  She tells him, then – she tells him all of it. The loneliness, the feeling of being completely lost and misguided, to the feeling of being fooled into believing that travelling the world could let her make sense of things that confused her at home. Some of it got cleared, but most of it got more clouded, instead. There were good days, but the bad days nearly outshined the good when she’d start thinking about things.

  Kie tells the story in a hushed voice, almost as if she’s scared that the passersby could hear her words through the window, when JJ could barely hear them himself. His hand never lets go of her back, but he stops moving it and just holds it there. More than anything, he wants to wrap his arms around her, but he can tell she needs the space.

  He knows this is headed somewhere, yet the more she talks about it, the less he understands.

  Until, that is, she finally looks at him and says, ‘When things were the hardest, you were the one who got me out of it.’

 How? he means to ask, but it isn’t his turn. Kie’s eyes are pointed and she’s not finished yet. ‘Before I left, you told me you believed in me, and the whole world’s waiting for me to explore it, and it was the only thing that I could think of and fall asleep after it. I kept wishing you’d come with me, instead, and I couldn’t stop wondering why I hadn’t asked you to come.’

  ‘Even if you had, it wouldn’t have been an option,’ he reminds her. ‘I was broke, had to stay here. I’m not the guy who goes backpacking around the world.’

  ‘What if you are?’ she asks and for the first time, JJ thinks he can really hear the lump in her throat, the stiffness of her voice. ‘What if we could’ve… I was an idiot when I left, JJ.’

  JJ aches to lean over and reach her, yet he keeps himself glued to the couch. What do you say to this? How do you act? His heart keeps beating in expectation and not even the chatter outside the window can do anything to help.

  ‘I was confused,’ she says. ‘I was a kid. I was dumb. I was running away from everything this place had to offer, and I didn’t realise that included you.’

  ‘You didn’t run away from me, Kie.’

  ‘What if I did?’ She looks at him and he sees determination in her eyes, in the tightness of her lips, in the way her neck tenses. ‘I kept feeling and thinking things I couldn’t explain and definitely shouldn’t have been feeling. Travelling the world sounded better than trying to confront all of it. Except that backfired, because I had to stop travelling because I couldn’t keep ignoring it.’

  Here’s the thing with the Pogues – they don’t say what they mean.

  JJ feels the weight of her words, but can’t quite piece them together to solve the puzzle. He stares at her in expectation, instead, waiting for something that doesn’t come. Her eyes are trained to his and her lips slightly parted, as if she’s waiting on him, too.

  JJ gets up and grabs himself a beer from the fridge, throwing her one, too. He walks a few steps to the left until he’s in the kitchen area of the room, and grabs a bag of heavy salted crisps from the cupboard. He hands it to her and she takes it without a word, no longer looking at him, but still expecting. Waiting.

  They’re waiting on each other. Oddly, JJ feels like they’ve been doing the dance far longer than he thinks.

  ‘I don’t know what you want me to say, Kie.’

  She pulls her lips into her mouth, before saying: ‘Anything.’

  And JJ feels a new weight on his shoulders.

  Kiara Carrera has always fit in his life. She has never been the central point herself, but the Pogues were his life for the majority of it, and she was one of them. A life without them, and without her, wasn’t much of an exciting life.

  He remembers when she first came and he kept calling her the Kook princess, until Sarah Cameron turned out to be everything they joked Kie was. He always thought it was odd how easily she fit with the three boys, with the Cut – if someone looked at her, with her little headband, cropped tops and tie-dyed everything, they’d never guess she grew up on Figure Eight.

  She fit in his apartment, too. Somehow. Another crop top, another pair of jean shorts, another headband keeping her hair out of her face. She’s changed but she hasn’t. And this is a place that is falling apart, costing just enough so he can call it a decent apartment and still get to save for something better, eventually.

  Not that there is anything remotely better on the Cut. JJ likes to dream, too.

  And she’s in a lot of those dreams.

  ‘Kie, I just— I don’t know what you want me to say. Or do,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  So much, is the answer, but so is nothing.

  He’s seen the look on her face before, more than once, in memories that kept him up at night. The replay of the curve of her Cupid’s Bow, of the way her lips are slightly pursed, in the tremor he can see from her baby hairs shaking.

  Kiara, looking at him like there’s nothing else worthy of looking at.

  JJ puts his beer on the counter and walks up to her, cups her face, and kisses her.

  ★

As a man stumbles his way out of the bar with one of JJ’s coworkers holding a firm hand on his back, JJ finds himself wondering why in the hell he’s decided to work in the one place that alcoholics frequent, and isn’t a casino. He’s thought about this before and the conclusion is always the same – it’s about seeing that people can get drunk, abuse alcohol, and still be semi-decent people.

  Even from his grave, Luke Maybank’s hold on his son never wavers.

  It’s what he thinks about when things are shit. When he’s shit. And without hearing from Kiara for nearly two whole days now, JJ’s legs shake with every step he takes.

  He thinks that seeing her would fix everything, but when she finally walks into the bar, his knees threaten to give in.

  She calls his name and he glances around, but his boss is elsewhere, so he tells her to sit down.

  ‘Whiskey again?’

  Kiara shakes her head.

  ‘A beer, then? I’ve got your favourite.’

  ‘I’m here for you, JJ.’

  He pours her some of her favourite beer, anyway. On the house. ‘My shift finishes in an hour. You can wait, or I can pick you up—’

  ‘I’ll wait.’ She takes the beer and puts a few bills on the counter. ‘I’ll be in the back.’

  Her steps are steady and precise, and she sits down in the far back booth as if that was her intention all along. JJ knows her well enough to know she’s terrified, because Kiara is never this precise unless she fears that one wrong movement will crumble her.

  He makes a note of not holding anything against her, whatever it is she’s here to talk about. He takes the bills she left, too, and slips them in his pocket, to return them to her later.

  ‘On the rocks,’ says a man to his right—a regular—and JJ’s back to being the bartender.

  Every so often, he feels Kiara’s eyes on his back. Even as he speaks to the customers, he thinks of last night, of the way her limbs felt tangled with his. He looks a man in the eye as he charges him and all sees is her eyes rolling in pleasure, her mouth full of little sighs, little gasps.

  His hands drop to the wooden bartop and he feels his palm flat against his wall, stabilising him as he thrusts. Kiara’s moans and wandering hands. Kiara’s mouth where he needed her most, his own making her feel good in return.

  ‘You’re two dollars short,’ says the customer.

  ‘Sorry.’ JJ reaches into the till and takes out two dollars. ‘It’s been a long day.’

  ‘Sure seems like it. Look after yourself, kid.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Yet all he can think about is how it’s the best night he’s had in years, if not ever.

  Kiara still sits in the back booth, killing time with her phone and occasional glances at JJ. There’s nothing on her face to show she’s going through the same, but JJ bets she is – he knows her well enough.

  Even though she rushed out in the morning with her hair still a mess from his hands running through it, he knows it was just as earth-shattering for her as it was for him.

  JJ bids his farewell to his coworkers. They’re good kids – even though JJ’s only a year or two older, he feels like there’s a decade between them. They’re Kook kids, somehow unaware of his past, and JJ envies their innocence.

  Kiara’s still on her phone when he approaches her. ‘Fancy getting out of here?’

  She slips her phone into her pocket and is leading him out of the joint before he wraps his head around it. ‘I want to go somewhere.’

  ‘Somewhere as in a specific place?’

  ‘Yeah. You got your bike?’

  JJ taps her shoulder, pointing at the employee car park. In the middle of it is his trusted dirt bike, one that’s gotten him out of shit more times than he’d like to admit.

  She lets out a breathy laugh. ‘I missed that thing.’

  ‘It missed you, too.’

  They hop on like they’ve done a million times before. Kiara wraps her arms around his waist with no hesitation and he feels her cheek pressed against his shoulderblade – if he wore a tank top, they’d be skin against skin.

  Again.

  JJ revs the engine. ‘Where to, Ma’am?’

  ‘The Chateau.’

  All JJ tries to focus on is her arms around him, but he shudders anyway.

  Nobody’s been to the Chateau since the fire all those years ago. JJ’s hardly even thought about it. With no one to look after the place, the wooden boards would’ve turned to ruin by now. All the Pogue memories they made would be turned to dust – does he even remember them, anymore?

  Kiara squeezes him a little harder – just enough to hold him together to the Chateau.

  As he thought, the place is a ruin.

  ‘It’s kind of beautiful,’ Kiara says.

  He looks at her as if she’s crazy—she must be—but then he sees the admiration, the longing, the nostalgia in her eyes, and tries to see it the way she does. Vines climb what’s left of the house and there’s moss where windows would’ve been. The ash has been washed away by rain and he can see traces of the original colour on the surviving base.

  Kiara takes a few steps forward until she’s standing on the ruin, balancing herself with a smile. ‘This is where the front porch was.’

  JJ just stares. She doesn’t stop, though – she walks to the left and says that’s where the swing used to be, and that was where the couch was, and suddenly JJ starts seeing all those things, as if someone were building the house from the ashes.

  He joins in on the game. ‘That’s where I used to sleep. That’s where Pope got hit in the head by a can that one time.’

  The Chateau came to life and the memories rushed back as if they were never gone. Within minutes, the two were laughing as if no time had passed. As if things hadn’t turned to ruin and as if they hadn’t grown older. Grown apart.

  It comes to an end, though. JJ offers her a hand to come down but she does it herself.

  ‘Oh,’ she says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I forgot about this.’

  He walks up next to her and sees it: the tree with John B’s name carved into it. A memory from a bad time – when they thought they’d lost him. When it was just JJ, Kiara and Pope. Left to fend for themselves, not knowing whether their friend was alive or dead.

  JJ swallows the lump in his throat. His arm finds Kiara’s shoulder and he pulls her closer, and she wraps both arms around his waist.

  ‘I’m glad that wasn’t the end,’ he says. ‘But it was hell. Thinking he was lost.’

  ‘We nearly lost him,’ Kiara says in the softest voice.

  ‘But we didn’t. That’s all that matters.’

  He doesn’t want to say that in a way, they still lost him – to Sarah and the Bahamas, like they lost Pope to college.

  JJ laughs a dry laugh. ‘Never thought we’d be the last two Pogues.’

  ‘With a burnt-down Chateau behind our backs.’

  ‘Exactly. Funny how life turns out.’

  Her hands drop back to her pockets; the absence of her body against his feels like an unwanted breeze.

  She looks at him like she’s about to say something. JJ decides against interrupting, and instead looks towards the pier – there’s no light on it and it’s already getting dark, but he wants to go there. Get away from the Chateau and its scorched past.

  So his clammy hand takes hold of Kiara’s and they walk down the pier, listening as the wooden boards creak. Some things remain the same. Kiara squeezes his hand.

  She doesn’t let go of it when they reach the end, with nothing but marsh in front of them. Sun sets on the other side of the property and they’re watching the sky bask in shades of deep blue, and JJ sits down with Kiara following suit.

  Her fingers tap the wood. ‘I don’t want to live with regrets.’

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘Is it? What we did last night?’ she asks, facing him straight-on. ‘A regret?’

  ‘No.’ JJ doesn’t even hesitate. ‘It was the one thing that could never regret.’

  She smiles, ever so slightly, and he feels the tension in his shoulders ease. Carefully, he covers her hand with his own, and she lets him take it into his lap.

  ‘Kie.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  JJ takes a deep breath.

  He’s thought about this moment for a long time – over a decade, really. Almost two. He’s thought about what he’d say, given the chance, and there was a grandiose speech somewhere in the back of his mind… but this is different.

  He never accounted for sleeping with Kie before confessing his feelings.

  ‘You know when I said I’d be there when you came back? When you were leaving?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I meant every word,’ he says. He gives her hand a squeeze and musters up a tiny smile, but he still can’t look her in the eye. ‘I made the promise to wait for you. Hell, I would’ve waited for you till the world ended if I had to. And I still will. I always will.’

  His eyes finally meet hers and – she’s crying. Moonlight reflects off the tears and he’d call her beautiful if he wasn’t in the middle of this.

  Of them.

  ‘My home is with you, Kie. I can stay on the island for as long as I want, but if you’re not here, it’s not…’ He brings his hand to her cheek, wiping her tears with his thumb. ‘No matter how many times you leave, I’ll be there. Ready to take you back.

  He watches the shine in her eyes drop to his lips and then he’s got her own pressed against them, her hands holding his face. It’s gentle, unlike the passionate kiss they had the other night, and he feels her breath on his lips. She moves back, but her hands cradle his face, still.

  ‘How did it take us this long to get here?’

  JJ laughs. ‘I was just another guy, Kie. You had half the island trying to get with you.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘It is,’ JJ says. ‘I just didn’t want you to know because I didn’t want you to have the burden of rejecting me, because our friendship would’ve… I don’t think it would’ve lasted. And I’d rather have you as a friend than tell you have I feel you and lose you.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have lost me,’ she whispers. Her thumb glides across his cheek and he leans into her palm.

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘You never tried.’

  JJ sighs, then kisses the inside of her palm. ‘Even if I did, Kie, I was the guy from the wrong side of the island. A Maybank, at that. I wouldn’t have been good enough. You deserved better than whatever I could’ve been.’

  She shakes her head to the point he feels her whole body trembling with the movement. ‘I never thought that way, JJ.’

  ‘But I did,’ he says. ‘And even if you liked me back, I wouldn’t have been able to get over that. I wouldn’t have thought that something that good could happen to someone like me.’

  Her hands are gentle and he tries to relax, even though his own are gripping the back of her shirt.

  Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. The water is still, but he can hear movement – despite the death of the Chateau, life around it went on. JJ finds some comfort in that – their lives, too, went on.

  One of Kiara’s hands is dropped to his thigh, caressing it. ‘I wouldn’t have rejected you, you know.’

  JJ lets out a shaky breath. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  He laughs, dropping his head. ‘Well, I feel like a fool now.’

  Kiara laughs, too, and he wishes he could bottle the sound. Her hand reaches under his chin and pulls it up. ‘We got there in the end.’

  And then she’s kissing him again, with her arms wrapped around his neck.

  JJ’s finally getting to kiss Kiara with no fear, no holding back, no worries that they’d come to regret it, and the world doesn’t stop. The world keeps spinning, and somehow that’s even better.

  If you told JJ from a decade ago that he’d be making out with Kiara at the Chateau pier, he would’ve called you crazy. But she’s in his hands, her skin is on his fingertips as he slips his hand underneath the back of her top, and she tastes like her favourite beer. She’s warm and smells lovely and her teeth are grazing his lip and god, JJ feels like he’s won the lottery.

  He wants this. All of it. Everything.

  He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to stop kissing her and have to go back to his house, to his two jobs, to living the measly life he’s had for the past few years – how could he do that, after getting a taste of what he could’ve had? Of what could’ve been?

  So kisses her fervently, ferociously, like a starved man.

  He’s not letting her go this time. Not without knowing she’s coming back.

  His hands are firm as he pulls her even closer, his kisses shifting to her neck, her hands reaching under her shirt. His skin is on fire with her touch and he craves it, and he nearly pushes them over the pier as he tries to get her to lie down.

  ‘Kie,’ he breathes between the kisses to her stomach, making his way up her chest.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I fucking love you.’

  JJ kisses her before she gets a chance to respond, and he knows this is a drug he’s already addicted to.

The sun is long gone and JJ holds Kiara’s hand as they sit on the pier. They’ve both come back to their senses and the world is quiet now, patient. Falling asleep. Kiara’s head is leaned on JJ’s shoulder and his arm is wrapped around her waist, his thumb caressing the skin just underneath her waistband.

  For the past half-hour or so, they’ve been talking about all the times they missed the signs. Both of them did, even though JJ thought he’d made it obvious – from little comments to grand gestures that were misread, and it’s hilarious, now. It wouldn’t have been if things turned out differently, but neither of them goes there.

  They talk about their lives, too. JJ tells her more about her coworkers and his appreciation for them and she listens, not interrupting him once.

  JJ kisses the top of her head, still in disbelief that he can.  ‘What’s on your mind?’

  She doesn’t respond right away. She nuzzles into him, instead, and he spreads his palm to cover as much of her as he can.

  ‘I’m staying on the island,’ she says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m staying here. On Kildare.’

  ‘Why? Kie—’

  ‘Listen.’ She moves away to look him in the eye – even in the darkness, JJ can see the determination. ‘I want to be with you. That’s all. But I’m not— I know how much the island means to you. I can’t take that away from you. I won’t. If that means staying here—’

  ‘No.’

  ‘JJ—’

  ‘I said no.’ He runs his hands through his hair, tugging it slightly at the ends. ‘Kie, this is not happening. You’re being ridiculous. I stayed behind because I never had a reason to leave. Because everyone else left, and someone had to stay behind, for when you’d come home. I promised to be here.’

  He cups her face and looks her straight-on, not caring about the wetness underneath his fingertips. ‘The island isn’t a home, Kie, not if you’re not here. You are.’

  All she manages is a whisper of his name. He kisses her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her lips. She says his name again but he shakes his head, kissing her once more.

  ‘Wherever you go, I’ll follow.’ He kisses her again. ‘If you’ll let me. If you don’t go where I can’t follow.’

  ‘I would never,’ Kiara says, and he’s kissing the salt on her lips. ‘But your life—’

  ‘I’m tired of the island, anyway. I never had to reason to leave but now I do, and I’ve got money saved up, and I’m ready, Kie. I’m ready to do this.’

  She looks at him and she’s smiling again, even though her cheeks are glistening; he resists the urge to kiss them dry. ‘You’re ready?’

  ‘You took a leap of faith all those years ago and it led you here,’ he says, smiling right back. ‘This is my leap of faith.’

  Kiara wraps her arms around him and curls into him; JJ knows she can hear his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest and doesn’t care.

  This was his biggest leap of faith. He’d never in a million years he’d be here, so who’s to say anything else he’s believed in is certain, either? He’s got friends and a life on the island but he’d never be anything but a Maybank here, with scolding looks waiting for him at every corner. If he left—with Kiara—he’d get to be more. He’d get to choose.

  Kissing Kiara was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Anything else… It only seems natural to go where she goes. To never have to wait for her again but if he has to, he will. Forever, if that’s what it takes. He’s already done the scariest thing, so why not do this, too?

  ‘I love you, too, JayJ.’

  And just like that, JJ’s future rewrites itself.

[itneverendshere]

jj and pope at rafe’s x bartender!reader wedding🙂‍↕️☝🏼 it’s canon

my boys

[dreamypeaches]

let’s hear it for the boy | jj maybank x reader

summary: you take on the role of jj’s hype woman as his insecurities begin to overwhelm him.

warnings: alcohol use, cursing, allusions to sex

word count: 2k

a/n: i listened to this song (let’s hear it for the boys by deniece williams) on the way to work the other day and couldn’t stop thinking about how much it applies to jj. so here’s this tooth rotting fluff fic. i threw another parks and rec reference in. idk what it is but jj and his girl give me subtle april and andy vibes. enjoy :)

This was not the first time you had ended up like this with JJ. Curled up on his bed in the Chateau, holding him close as he complained about his dad or the Kooks or just life in the Outer Banks. Tonight was different though. JJ had fallen deeper into his thoughts than ever before, picking out every one of his flaws and insecurities and laying them out bare for you.

You listened with a frown on your face as your boyfriend continued to shit on himself. Usually you would stay quiet, inserting kind words here and there, but letting him vent to you until he was finished or he fell asleep. Tonight, however, you had to interrupt when JJ took it too far.

“I’m such a piece of shit, Y/N, why are you even with me? You should just fucking leave, I’m sure you would be a lot happier.”

“Hey!” You nearly shouted, causing JJ to jump from your arms and turning to look at you with wide eyes. You sat up on your knees, taking JJ’s face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. You’d had enough. Tonight, you were going to tell this magnificent boy in front of you just how amazing he is.

“I love you, JJ! I’m not going anywhere! You are the most amazing person I have ever met!”

JJ’s eyes softened slightly at the words, but right now is insecurity was louder than your voice.

“You shouldn’t be with a guy like me. I’m going to hurt you, Y/N. I’m going to say something I don’t mean and fuck it all up because that’s just who I am. I’m just a dirty Pogue from the Cut.”

You released his head and shook your own.

“JJ, you can’t really believe that.” You spoke. Words of encouragement and adoration tumbled from your lips as you began to discuss exactly why JJ was the best man in the world.

He ain't got much to say

But he loves me, loves me, loves me

I know that he loves me anyway

JJ always had a way with words. He could lie his way out of any situation and charm himself into another one. Hell, he had found a way to charm you into his life. But when he finally had you, he started falling for you hard. The words suddenly became stuck in his throat, all the love and emotions he felt for you falling to the wayside. It frustrated him, not being able to find the words to tell you how much he loved you. You knew though.

With you, JJ didn’t have a way with words, he had a way of making you feel loved with just a single touch. The way he held you close to him at a Kegger, his hand in yours helping you onto the Pogue, the passionate kisses and bruising grip on your hips as he pounded into you. He didn’t have to say it. You knew he loved you, beyond a doubt.

And maybe he don't dress fine

But I don't really mind

'Cause every time he pulls me near

I just wanna cheer

Your sister was getting married, and all the Pogues were invited. Standing in your bridesmaids dress by your parents at the entrance to the venue, you saw the familiar orange van pull up and the door slide open. John B jumped out with Sarah, wearing a nice shirt and pants that his girlfriend surely picked out for him. Pope was next, and you recognized the suit he was wearing as the same one he wore to his scholarship interview. In a beautiful, but simple sundress, Kiara popped out behind Pope. Trailing behind them, your eyes softened at your boyfriend, who wore the only button up shirt he owned with a pair of khaki cargo shorts, his usual black boots, and his signature red hat sitting backward on his head. You felt your mother tense up beside you, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “What on earth is JJ wearing?”

You ignored your mom, too busy grinning at your approaching boyfriend. His grin was just as wide, scooping you up in his arms and kissing you hard.

“Hello my beautiful girlfriend!”

“Hi my interestingly dressed boyfriend.” He put you down, stepping back and looking down at himself before meeting your eyes.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” He questioned with a furrowed brow. You giggled and pulled him back to you, shaking your head.

“Nothing, baby, you look amazing,” You said truthfully.

“Damn right I do.”

Let's hear it for the boy

Let's give the boy a hand

Let's hear it for my baby

JJ buried his face in your chest as you spoke. You ran your finger though his hair, feeling him groan as you finish talking about the wedding.

“God, that fit was so terrible.”

“Yeah, it was, but it was also super adorable, just like you.”

He groaned again making you giggle.

“Do remember what happened at the reception though?” You asked. He shook his head and peeked up at you. A small smile on your face, you recount the night with stars in your eyes.

You know you gotta understand

Maybe he's no Romeo

But he's my loving one-man show

Let's hear it for the boy

JJ held you close on his lap as you sat with the rest of the Pogues. You watched your sister dancing with her new wife, a small smile on your face. Kiara poked you, stealing your attention away.

“So, when are you two gonna tie the knot?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows. The hands on your thighs tightened their grip and you turned to look at JJ. He had a drunken smirk on his face as he gazed down at you.

“What do you say, sunshine? Wanna get married? Wedding sex is always amazing, imagine what it’s like when your the one getting married,” He said, winking.

You scoffed, turning back around and getting up from his lap.

“How romantic, J,” You say before walking off toward the bar. Kie slapped the back of JJ’s head, giving him a look that said What the hell?

JJ sighs and stands, following after you.

“Baby…” JJ stands before you as you take your drink from the bartender, not meeting his eyes. He grips your hip with one hand, the other gently taking your chin and tilting it up. You sigh and push his arm away.

“It’s fine, JJ, I know you were just joking.”

“What makes you say that?”

You freeze looking back at him, stomach fluttering at the sincere look on his face. Taking your hand, he pulls you closer, brushing your hair behind your ear and resting his palm on your cheek.

“I want to marry you, sunshine, more than anything. I’m sorry for the shit proposal, but I’ll make it up you.”

You grin up at him.

“Promise?”

He leans down, lips ghosting over yours.

“Promise.”

JJ was on his side now, head propped up on his hand. He was smiling down at you as he remembered the night with you.

“I still haven’t made it up to you.”

“Oh you have, a million times over.”

My baby may not be rich

He's watching every dime

But he loves me, loves me, loves me

We always have a real good time

Dates with JJ were always special. He pulled out all the stops, using whatever tips or extra cash he had made that week to get you a special dinner or a gift. Some weeks were less successful than others, and this was one of them. Most of his money had gone to his bike, which was in the shop. But his empty wallet wasn’t going to stop him from showing his girlfriend a good time.

You grinned as you pulled up to the Chateau, seeing your boyfriend waiting for you near the dock. You hopped out of your car and raced down to him, jumping into his arms. After a long kiss, you rest your forehead on his.

“How was your day?” You ask.

“Better now that I have you, sunshine.”

He sets you down and takes your hand, leading you down the dock to the HMS Pogue. A blanket is laid out in the back with some pillows scattered around, along with a cooler with two wine glasses sitting on top of it. JJ helps you into the boat, kissing your hand before releasing it and moving to start the boat.

The colors of the sunset are painting the sky in beautiful oranges, purples, and pinks by the time JJ stops the boat and throws down the anchor. He joins you on the blanket, opening up the cooler and pulling out a bottle of wine, a carton of strawberries, and a jar of Nutella. As he popped open the bottle and poured the wine into the glass, you shook your head at him.

“J, you’ve really out done yourself.”

He grins, handing you your glass.

“Yeah, well, wait till you taste the wine. It was like twelve bucks at the gas station.”

“I think we can agree that all wine tastes the same, and if you spend more than $15 on wine, then you are very stupid.”

JJ raised his glass with a wink, “I’ll drink to that.”

You spend the rest of the night cuddling on the Pogue, eating strawberries and getting wine drunk, watching as the colorful sky faded into a dark, sparkling one. As you got ready to head back to shore, you pulled JJ in for a passionate kiss.

“How did I get so lucky?” You questioned.

“Nah, sunshine, I’m the lucky one.”

And maybe he sings off-key

But that's all right by me, yeah

A karaoke machine, some cheap liquor, and a very drunk JJ Maybank was an amazing combination. Being just as drunk, if not drunker, you couldn’t stop your laughter as the love of your life terribly sang Dear Maria, Count Me In at the top of his lungs. He fell into your lap, face scrunched together at the intensity with which he was singing. You clapped louder than any of the other Pogues, who were just as far gone as you, as JJ sang the final words. He dropped his head dramatically, looking up quickly to sweep his hair out of his face without touching it. As JJ took your hand, pulling you up for a duet, you silently thanked Kie’s parents for cleaning out their basement and not throwing away the shitty karaoke machine from Kiara’s 11th birthday.

'Cause what he does, he does so well

Makes me wanna yell

Let's hear it for the boy

“I love you, J. You’re the greatest person in the whole fucking universe, aliens included. You’re the best friend and the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. Don’t let anyone, especially yourself, tell you differently.”

You rolled over to straddle JJ, taking his head in your hands.

Let's give the boy a hand

Let's hear it for my baby

“I love you, JJ Maybank. I will scream it from the rooftops because everyone needs to know that I am dating the most amazing man I have ever known. But right now, I want just you to hear it. You’re amazing, JJ Maybank.”

You kiss his cheek.

“You’re the funniest guy.”

You kiss the other cheek.

“You have great music taste, but a terrible singer.”

You kiss an eyelid,

“You plan the most amazing dates.”

then the other.

“You make me feel loved.”

A kiss on the forehead.

“Cherished.”

A kiss on the chin.

“Adored.”

You dive in for an intense and hungry kiss, soon pulling away to look deep into his crystal blue eyes.

“Loved.” You whisper. His arms wrap around your back, pulling you close to bury hie head in your chest. You feel tears begin to soak your shirt as he trails kisses across the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“God, I love you so much, sunshine. You’re my whole fucking world.”

He pulls you down for another kiss, rolling you over onto your back. His hands wander your body as he prepares to make you feel as good as you make him.

Let's hear it for the boy

Let's hear it for my man

Let's hear it for my baby

taglist + moots: @jjmaybby @dontjinx-it @butgilinsky @rekrappeter @diverdcwn @rafecameron @prejudic3 @starlightstarkey @https-luna @sunnypogue @obxmxybxnk @jjmayybank @bluesiderudy @socialwriter @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @jjbinghams @outerbanksbro @poguestyleskye @softstarkey @bricksatanakinswindow @drewsephsmiles @poguemackin @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @diverrdown @broken-jj

[jiaraforeverr]

Friends to Lovers in Canon Universe

I'll be the light and lead you home (when there's nowhere left to go) by @homebody-nobody and @hmspogue

“Hi, Dad,” he says, his heart pounding, his veins already humming with fight-or-flight adrenaline. He can feel his brain kicking into overdrive as his body is tensing to prepare for whatever comes next. Keep your voice down, his mind reiterates, reciting rules that governed years of his childhood, learned the hard way and necessary for his safety -- for survival. Stay an arms length away, nod and agree, don’t tell him no, respond with “yes sir”, keep your voice down for as long as possible, and get out before the yelling starts at all costs… But, now, in the midst of this frantic inventory, a new rule makes its way into his consciousness. Stay between him and Kiara.

baby, it’s halloween (we can be anything)

JJ tags along with Kie as she goes costume shopping but she leaves the store with much more than she bargained for.

The Haunting of Crowley Manor

After spending the night with JJ, going to Sarah's Halloween party at an abandoned, and allegedly haunted, Kook mansion is not high on Kiara's list of things she wants to be doing. When the Pogues do some exploring, what they find is unsettling at best. Even amidst all the pandemonium, Kiara would really just like to clear the air.

you wanna play with fire (stick and poke tattoo) by @homebody-nobody

'JJ chews on the information she’s given him, tracing his fingers down her arm, over the curve of her elbow and back up to her shoulder. “You’re still gonna go home, right?” He asks, uncertainty and maybe longing in his voice. She realizes, then, that of course she is. Her parents love her, even if they don’t know how to show it, don't understand what the Cut and its inhabitants (and one in particular) mean to her. Of course, she’s going to go home. Because JJ doesn’t get to. Because she still can.

touch me someone by @homebody-nobody

He pulls away from her, and his eyes are wide but dry as his chest heaves. He looks wild, uncaged and raw, the moonlight turning his blond hair white and his blue eyes into pools of silver. Tragedy and shock have destroyed him, the chains he’d wrapped around his brash, heedless, unending want twisted into shards by an explosion of hurt and grief. He has always been the victim, the boy left behind in empty rooms with nothing but loss and bloody fragments, told to piece himself back together. Finally, they’ve taken the last thing. When he told John B they had nothing to lose, they still had each other. And now, he doesn’t even have that. But she’s still here.

A Midsummers Night's Scheme

Kiara really doesn't want to go to Midsummers, and this time it isn't just about the socioeconomics of it all. When she runs into someone she was hoping never to see again, she enlists the help of JJ, who might already be more involved than she would've ever thought.

georgia (georgia, i love your son) by @jiaaras

Two years after Sarah and John B died (or disappeared, if you asked JJ), Kiara and JJ must deal with the return of a familiar face to the Outer Banks.

it was there the whole time

The rest of the pogues notice that JJ and Kiara are hopelessly in love with each other long before they do themselves.

because i'm still in love with you (i wanna see you dance again.)

post season one; John B and Sarah are gone, Pope is M.I.A and Kiara just wants to help JJ stop drinking so much.

lets go surfing by @simpforjiara

everything good happens in the surf

and even when you look away i know you think of me by @hvitstark

The night of graduation Kie worries about the future.

Her Boys *trigger warning character drugged against their will*

Some guy tries to drug Kiara during a kegger at the Boneyard, and her boys ride to the rescue, and then take her home and take beautiful care of her…which leads to a very unique first Jiara kiss.

five times JJ or Kie kissed the other as friends + 1 time they were definitely not friends by @simpforjiara

don't blame me for fallin' (i was just a little boy) by @simpforjiara

JJ Maybank could never just simply care about something, when it came to Kiara it was always too much

Home is Where the Puppy Lives by @tiggerusername

Four months after John B and Sarah disappear, everything in Outer Banks is strange. JJ and Kiara are hardly talking. Pope is hardly around. And storms keep coming. That is until Kiara decides to visit the chateau after work one day and finds a puppy stuck in the destruction of the night outside.

Snapshots Through Time

Just as the title implies, jumps in time depicting moments in JJ and Kiara’s lives. First as friends, then as a couple, and eventually as a family.

Don't overthink it

For the majority of the time she was not even sure she liked JJ as a person.

i don’t wanna be your friend (i wanna kiss your lips)

If she’s being honest, Kiara used to think about kissing JJ all the time. aka the five times kiara thinks about kissing jj, and the one time she finally does it.

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

JJ and Kiara grow closer in the aftermath of what should have been the best summer of their lives.

One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)

After spending a night with Pope, Kie runs to the person she was meant to be with in the first place.

it wasn’t special til i met you by @dayas

kiara never expects teaching jj to braid to matter so much. it does. or, alternatively, the four times kiara lets jj braid her hair and the one time she doesn’t.

every piece of you

Five places that Kie hadn’t expected to be intimate when kissed and one place she does.

if we were meant to be, we would've been by now by @alphinias

five times JJ was jealous, and one time he didn't have to be

and if my wishes came true (it would’ve been you)

the one where jj and kiara go on a road trip together and do a miserable job of pretending they’re not two idiots in love

tell me when you’re falling (can you hear me calling?)

being in love with your best friend makes vacationing pretty inconvenient. luckily for kiara, said best friend will never suspect a thing.

bare necessities by @rae-of-fricking-sunshine

the five times they were unintentionally undressed, and the one time they weren't

better date than never by @alphinias

Kiara is sick of her mom badgering her about the single groomsmen at her cousin's wedding, so obviously, taking JJ as her date is the perfect solution. It won't be complicated. Not at all.

i had a few (got drunk on you)

Kiara is a student at bartender school and JJ is helping her practice (when he isn’t hindering her by drinking all the liquor).

i'll be there 'til the stars don't shine by @maybankiara

in which the pogues throw a kegger, and jj keeps getting distracted by the feelings he might have for one of his closest friends.

What if... (Secrets are dug in the best friends' back yard?) by @tiggerusername

What if JJ and Kiara have been keeping a massive secret from the Pogues? What if JJ and Kiara were a lot closer than anyone had expected during Kiara's Kook year?

Standing On Younger Ground by @usnavisbubbly

If he really thinks about it, he knows it probably just took missing her for an entire year for him to realize that he never wanted to again. Miss her, that is. That shit was brutal. She’s his best friend and he wants her around all the time. It’s just that now, he sometimes wishes it was just them. Like, he’d never want John B and Pope to go away, per se, he just also wants Kie to himself? Or something? It’s confusing.

Bad Timing

the one where the Pogues all had a thing for Kie, all get rejected and JJ eventually finds the right time.

wish you were sober

The Pogues are growing up and following their dreams, which means it's time for JJ and Kiara to sort through some feelings.

around the world

You can take the boy out of the Outer Banks, but you can't take the Outer Banks out of the boy. when it's all calmed down, kiara travels the world. jj's not precisely an unwelcome addition.

drunk off of nothing but of each other until the sunrise (i swear to god it was the best night of my life)

The night before Kie leaves for collage JJ finally makes a move. It's the start and end of something all at once.

friends don’t look at friends that way

anyone observant can see that JJ and Kiara are clearly more than friends.

You Can Get Lost in the Music For Hours, Honey by @anniebibananie

A love story told (predominately) through text messages and a collaborative spotify playlist.

Come Down to the Black Sea Swimming with Me

JJ and Kiara try to deal with the aftermath of John B and Sarah's deaths, and find it easier together.

if this is love, i know it’s true (i won’t forget you)

kiara carrera doesn’t know when she falls in love with jj maybank. she just knows that she does, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

i want to see you stare at ceilings until you fall back asleep

jj and kie have a moment.

(au mid-season before any of that insane police chase stuff went down)

[playitaagain]

This universe means so much so me that I decided to make some extra bonus headcanons for everyone. I’ve really worked hard to tie everything together and I’ve come up with so many headcanons. These are just a few. 

Masterlist

JJ realizes he has a little crush on Pope during the treasure hunt. It only progresses after he moves in with the Heywards. 

Mama Heyward makes sure he’s included in all their Christmas traditions. 

Pope got a full ride to college including room and board. 

JJ and Pope get together the Christmas they are 19/20 (depending on birthdays) which is Pope’s sophomore year of college. 

It’s the first Christmas John B and Sarah come back goldless. 

JJ had already planned on moving out to live with Pope. He’s been working two jobs (mechanic and bartender) since he graduated high school. He sometimes picks up shifts at Heywards store when he needs an extra hand. He usually works 60-80 hours a week. 

He visits Pope out at school every other month. Pope goes home the months that JJ doesn’t visit. JJ works so they don't have as much time together but Pope doesn’t mind so long as he gets to hold JJ when they sleep. 

JJ moves to Boston Pope’s senior years of college. They move into a small one bedroom apartment with all used furniture.

Pope works part time during graduate school at the bookstore down the street. JJ cuts back and works between 40-60 at the mechanic a few blocks over. It's enough for them to pay rent and save for a house. 

Pope graduates and gets a job at a morgue in a local hospital.  

JJ proposes at the graduation. Pope proposes at the graduation party that night. 

They get married a year later. 

They buy a house a year after that in a suburb of Boston close to the ocean. 

They put themselves on the adoption list when they’re 26 which is right after they move into their home. 

They have four dropped adoptions in two years until they finally get Ellie as a baby. They’re 29 when they adopt her. 

During this time they become foster parents in hopes it will make the adoption process easier. 

Ellie is 4 when they get Ben. They’re thankful they’re foster parents because they have to foster Ben during legal issues with his parents. He’s 1 and a half when they foster him. They adopt him a year later. 

When Ellie and Ben are in college JJ and Pope get a call about a kid. He was found with his mother’s fingers around his throat. They never planned on fostering, only did it because they knew Ben was their son and would help with the adoption process. They can’t say no though. 

The boy, Teddy, is 12 and scared. 

JJ ends up going back to school to take classes to learn more about helping these kids. 

They end up fostering multiple victims of child abuse of all ages.

JJ accidentally graduates from college at age 55, six years after he took his first class. His advisor tells him he’s done enough classes to have a degree in psychology that has a focus in social work. He even has enough classes to get a masters in a year. It’s the same year he retires from the garage. 

The Heywards and the Pogues all fly in for his graduation and make a big deal of it.

Pope makes the biggest deal. He is so proud. JJ is doing so much good and it’s everything Pope knew he could do, was meant to do. 

Ellie and Ben are insanely proud of their dad. 

JJ ends up getting his masters a year later. He doesn’t work in the field but uses his skills to take care of countless kids they foster, to help as much as he can. 

They don’t use any of the money from the state for fostering. They put all of it into an account and each kid they foster and the kids get access when they’re 18. They don’t keep a dime. 

They end up moving into a bigger home by the beach so they can take in more kids. 

[jiaraweek]

✶ JIARA JULY 2020 MASTERLIST ✶

hello everyone! this is the masterlist for all fics posted during the week of jiara july. we’ll be periodically updating it each day with any fics posted under the tag ‘jiara july’ on tumblr or ao3, but please let us know if we miss anything/you want your fic to be added! thank you in advance to all the talented writers who are participating, we can’t wait to read what you’ve come up with!

DAY 1 - July 26th, 2020

PRECANON DAY

i'm so high at the moment, i'm so caught up in this (we're just young, dumb and broke but we still got love to give) by @hvitstark / RoseOf Winterfell on ao3

A totally plausible but not entirely probable speculation of Kie’s kook year and JJ’s part in it.

oneshot | 8K | angst | read it here

here to stay by @interstellarbeams

JJ has a small circle of trust, the Pogues, until Kiara breaks her way in.

oneshot | 2.3K | angst/hurt/comfort | read it here

pretty hot for a pogue by @hmsjiara / someoneyouloved on ao3

jj and rafe have a history, and kiara carrera just happens to be at the center of it.

oneshot | 6.7K | angst/hurt/comfort | read it here

nothin' lasts forever (we both know hearts can change) by @maybankiara

in which jj decides to take his chances with kiara the summer before they go to different high schools, which possibly ruins their friendship (and by an extension, the pogues’).

oneshot | 5.3K | angst | read it here

another day by capulets on ao3

a look at jj and kiara’s relationship from the very beginning.

oneshot | 2.6K | angst | read it here

new message by @routledges

glimpses into the pogues' group chat as kiara heads off to kook academy, and the messages exchanged between jj and kiara as her struggles don't go unnoticed.

oneshot | 1.8K | light angst/fluff | read it here

you drew stars around my scars by @coconutroseowl

after a hard betrayal from her best friend, kiara becomes intrigued with the code of friendship a certain group of boys have after jj helps her feel better. 

oneshot | 2.2K | hurt/comfort | read it here

What if... (Secrets are dug in the best friends' back yard?) by TiggerUsername on ao3

What if JJ and Kiara have been keeping a massive secret from the Pogues? What if JJ and Kiara were a lot closer than anyone had expected during Kiara's Kook year?

oneshot | 7.5K | romance/angst | read it here

✦ ✧ ✦

DAY 2 - July 27th, 2020

ACTIVIY DAY

fingertips puttin' on a show, got me now and I can't say no (i already know that there ain't no stoppin’ your plans and those slow hands) by @hvitstark / RoseOfWinterfell on ao3

JJ and Kie spend the morning with their kids... And trying to make a new one.

oneshot | 2.8K | romance/fluff | read it here

sea salt and grime (can’t believe that you’re mine) by @hmsjiara / someoneyouloved on ao3

jj and kiara fix up a bike together, and jj realizes they may have more in common than he thought.

oneshot | 5.5K | fluff/light angst | read it here

What if... (Baking is for lovers)? by TiggerUsername on ao3

A baking class for idiots inevitably escalates because of the hopeless couple that is JJ and Kiara.

oneshot | 3.3K | romance/fluff | read it here

invisible string by @alphinias

She weaved him bracelets as surely as they weaved memories together.

oneshot | 4.1K | fluff | read it here

i'll be there 'til the stars don't shine by @maybankiara

in which the pogues throw a kegger, and jj keeps getting distracted by the feelings he might have for one of his closest friends.

oneshot | 3.9K | angst/romance | read it here

just as i reach out to touch you (i remind myself you were meant to fly) by @interstellarbeams

JJ’s childhood memory of chasing fireflies has been tainted by his mother’s disappearance, but his friends help remind him what it’s like to be a kid again.

oneshot | 3.7k | fluff/hurt/comfort | read it here

that’s the thing about illicit affairs by @coconutroseowl

a day’s surfing with her best friend sparks unknown and unwanted feelings in kiara.

oneshot | 2.6K | angst | read it here

kiss the girl by capulets on ao3

some traditions are meant to be broken. apparently, the sanctity of movie night isn’t one of them.

oneshot | 1.5K | fluff | read it here

sunday’s by jiaras on ao3

Sundays were for JJ and Kiara. Since they became official three years ago, it was a known fact — ''I can’t, it’s Sunday'' or ''oh, maybe next week? Just not tomorrow, it’s Sunday'' had been more than overused by them both, until everyone seemed to catch on and stop asking all together.

oneshot | 4.8K | fluff/smut | read it here

✦ ✧ ✦

DAY 3 - July 28th, 2020

AU DAY

two worlds collided (and they could never tear us apart) by @rcsales

Kiara is tired of fancy parties at Sarah’s house; tired of rich self-centered people who only talk about how much money they're making. When she bumps into one of the waiters, her night gets a little more fun, whether she wants to admit it or not.

multichapter | 3.6K | romance/fluff | read it here

i see the sunrise getting high, i wish i was next to you by @hvitstark / RoseOfWinterfell on ao3

jiara band AU

oneshot | 5.2K | fluff/angst | read it here

i had a few (got drunk on you) by @interstellarbeams

Kiara is a student at bartender school and JJ is helping her practice (when he isn’t hindering her by drinking all the liquor).

oneshot | 7.6K | romance/fluff | read it here

no judgement zone by @noellesthings

jiara mythical AU

oneshot | 2K | angst | read it here

What if... (A beating heart is just a ticking timer)? by TiggerUsername on ao3

Everyone in Outer Banks has a soulmate. On their wrist is a ticking timer that is counting down to the second where the person meets their soulmate. The Universe makes sure that the two soulmates don't miss each other.

oneshot | 12.4K | angst/romance | read it here

this dream isn’t feeling sweet by @rae-of-fricking-sunshine

the scorpio race au

multichapter | 10.7K | read it here

monkshood and wolfsbane by @alphinias

JJ and Kiara go through seven years of Hogwarts together. They don't really like each other, until they do.

multichapter | 8.5K | romance/angst/fluff | read it here

war of hearts by capulets on ao3

kiara falls in love with jj. over and over and over again. the reincarnation au literally nobody asked for.

multichapter | 6.6K | romance/angst | read it here

let's get together (before we get much older) by jiaras on ao3

jiara college AU

oneshot | 7.5K | romance/fluff/smut | read it here

cause all’s fair in love and war by @hmsjiara / someoneyouloved on ao3

the percy jackson AU where jj and kiara really, really hate each other... until they don’t.

multichapter | 9.5K | romance/angst | read it here

this world seems beautiful when i'm with you by @maddieandherships

JJ, Pope and John B were alone in this world-a world crawling with dead people that would kill anything that had a heartbeat. It wasn't until they stumble upon a small community of survivors is where they finally feel they have a purpose, to survive.

multichapter | 5.9K | romance/angst | read it here

i have come to save the day by @maybankiara

in which jj is a postman and kiara is his favourite receptionist (alternatively, 4 times kiara didn't know jj's name and the one time she did).

oneshot | 5K | fluff | read it here

✦ ✧ ✦

DAY 4 - July 29th, 2020

DESTINATION DAY

better date than never by @alphinias

Kiara is sick of her mom badgering her about the single groomsmen at her cousin's wedding, so obviously, taking JJ as her date is the perfect solution. It won't be complicated. Not at all.

oneshot | 22.6K | romance/angst | read it here

you're the only friend I need (sharing beds like little kids) by jiaras on ao3

in which JJ and Kiara take their three kids on a road trip to the lake house.

oneshot | 3.6K | fluff | read it here

tell me when you’re falling (can you hear me calling?) by capulets on ao3

being in love with your best friend makes vacationing pretty inconvenient. luckily for kiara, said best friend will never suspect a thing.

oneshot | 3.3K | fluff/romance | read it here

and if my wishes came true (it would’ve been you) by @hmsjiara / someoneyouloved on ao3

the one where jj and kiara go on a road trip together and do a miserable job of pretending they’re not two idiots in love

oneshot | 7K | angst/fluff/smut | read it here

i don’t want to miss a thing by @maybankiara

in which jj drives kiara off to college, and he's not completely okay with that.

oneshot | 2.2K | fluff/light angst | read it here

✦ ✧ ✦

DAY 5 - July 30th, 2020

5 + 1 DAY

bare necessities by @rae-of-fricking-sunshine

the five times they were unintentionally undressed, and the one time they weren't

oneshot | 10.6K | fluff | read it here

I can’t believe that it’s finally me and you and you and me, just us (and our friends) by @hvitstark / RoseOfWinterfell on ao3

4 times John B and Pope interupt JJ and Kiara's alone time. And the 1 time they get to be alone.

oneshot | 11.6K | fluff/smut | read it here

if we were meant to be, we would've been by now by @alphinias

five times JJ was jealous, and one time he didn't have to be

oneshot | 12K | angst/romance | read it here

every piece of you by @interstellarbeams

Five places that Kie hadn’t expected to be intimate when kissed and one place she does.

oneshot | 13.2K | fluff/romance | read it here

it wasn’t special til i met you by capulets on ao3

the four times kiara lets jj braid her hair and the one time she doesn’t.

oneshot | 3.2K | fluff/light angst | read it here

friends are something that we were (before me sleeping in your shirt) by jiaras on ao3

the five times JJ and Kiara pretended to be a couple, and the one time they were

oneshot | 10K | romance/smut | read it here

What if... (slow and steady wins the race)? by TiggerUsername on ao3

the four times that JJ and Kiara are nearly caught and the one time where secrets become too much.

oneshot | 11K | romance/smut | read it here

i don’t wanna be your friend (i wanna kiss your lips) by @hmsjiara / someoneyouloved on ao3

the five times kiara thinks about kissing jj, and the one time she finally does it.

oneshot | 12.4K | angst/romance | read it here

✦ ✧ ✦

DAY 6 - July 31st, 2020

FIRSTS DAY

i lost myself between your legs (oh the habits of my heart, i can't say no) by @hvitstark / RoseOfWinterfell on ao3

Kie ask JJ to be her first. Because she trusts him. No other reason. JJ agrees. Because he's a good friend. No other reason.

oneshot | 10.8K | romance/smut | read it here

you and i (on the fly) by capulets on ao3

jj takes kie out on his bike for the first time and realizes just how fucked he is.

oneshot | 2.9K | fluff | read it here

august slipped away (into a moment in time) by jiaras on ao3

Kiara is going off to college soon, and JJ is staying in Outer Banks.

They decide to practice being away from each other for a day, for the first time ever.

oneshot | 6K | comfort/angst | read it here

What if... (It's only three words, eight letters)? by TiggerUsername on ao3

JJ has had a lot of firsts in his life. But none of them compare to Kiara. They are eighteen when Kiara tells JJ to man up and make a move. Together they realise that firsts can be repeated. There is one first however that changes everything. Because neither of them have heard those three words, eight letter before.

oneshot | 7.3K | angst/hurt/comfort | read it here

✦ ✧ ✦

DAY 7 - August 1st, 2020

FREE/GENRE DAY

Aetea (still searching for a reason, why is it so hard to find one) by @anxietyismyspiritanimal / yawning_inF on ao3

All hell breaks loose when JJ returns 'home' for the first time after John B's disappearance.. Luckily for him, Kiara would have never let him go in the mouth of the wolf alone.

multichapter | 1.7K | angst | read it here

[masonsfm]

better late than never , am i right folks ! 

。· . ˙ ☀ ⌈ madelyn cline + cis female + she / her + the maverick ⌋ yo , have you meet that POGUE , mason sterling , yet ? — no ? well , to give you a little heads up before you do , they’re a TWENTY-TWO year old , FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHER / BARTENDER , and have been living in coston for TWENTY-TWO YEARS . since i’ve known them , they’ve reminded me of GRAINY PHOTOGRAPHS DEVELOPED ON FILM, LIGHTENING BUGS MAKING THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE OF THE SUMMER, NOTES SCRIBBLED IN THE MARGINS, WHITE COTTON SHEETS ON A CLOTHESLINE, AND A MIDDAY NAP UNDER THE SUMMER SUN . usually they’re quite INTUITIVE & EMPATHETIC but just make sure you keep an eye out for them around town because i heard can be quite RESERVED & UNFORGIVING as well so here’s hoping they aren’t the ones to undo this whole peace pact they have going on this summer . but just between you & me , i kinda hope it all falls apart . the rivalry keeps this whole boring town interesting 

hi kids! i’m b and this is my sweet mason who is a lil too curious . . . a lil too stubborn . . . and prob shouldn’t be climbing trees anymore . i’ll tell you why in a minute .

BACKGROUND.

near the muddy waters of the cut, surrounded by tangled woodland, there was a two-bedroom house with a leaky roof and an old dog named arlo constantly snoozing on the front step. the sterling residence was nothing to look twice at, but it was home for the first eleven years of mason’s life. she lived there with her dad, matthew, and her mother, charlotte, and things were never quite easy.

mason was a save the marriage baby, a last ditch effort to rekindle love that was slowly fading to nothing... and it worked, for a little while. but as she got older and the novelty of a shiny new baby wore off, things between her parents got rocky again. they were constantly fighting over, well, everything, but money was the root of a lot of it. her dad worked two jobs and still didn’t make much, especially when her mom had a habit of blowing it on things that were far from necessary.

everyone in the cut knew it, too, the way the sterlings were falling apart.. mason knew it was bad when her friends parents’ started bringing it up to her, just checking in to see if she was okay. and she was, for the most part, until the other shoe drop and her mom moved out, revealing she’d been having a long term affair with someone on the other side of the island.

charlotte (mason’s mom) moved out and went full kook in no time. she remarried in a lavish summer ceremony, taking on two picture-perfect step children who were just a little older than mason, and beginning her picture-perfect life in an old plantation house turned mansion. back in the cut, matthew (mason’s dad) still struggled with two jobs and was rarely home, but if you asked, mase would’ve told you she was perfectly happy with that.

a judge presiding over the custody battle for mason, however, was not, and due to her father’s work schedule and lack of supervision in the cut, her mother was granted nearly whole custody of their daughter and at twelve, she moved to the figure 8 and, for five days out of the week, wasn’t allowed back on the rougher side of the tracks.

they called her macy and insisted she always wear shoes when leaving the house. she had a new room, a new wardrobe, and come fall, a new school. her mom signed her up for piano lessons and shoved her back into ballet classes, to keep her occupied, and without any subtlety at all began molding mason into the kind of kook princess that her older step sister was. one day she’d have a coming out party. she’d wear a white dress and take a knee on the stage as a debutant. high school would come and she’d be a cheerleader, a prom queen. her mother had what’s best for her planned out to the very last detail.

her only saving grace was weekends with her dad. she got to head back to the cut for two or three days most weekends, and there she could be whatever she wanted with her father’s full support. unfortunately, though, a lot of her friends noticed the prim and proper new clothes and the perfectly manicured nails. those who didn’t know better saw mason going full kook as well.

with the friends she grew up with slipping away, and the first year of a new middle school being an absolute nightmare, mason decided to give in... mostly because her father, whose heart is too big for his body, asked her to. she was macy, kook princess in training, taking after her older step sister and quietly doing as her mother said. she kept to herself, for the most part, ran through the motions with only so much as an occasional eye roll, but as time passed, it became more difficult.

she missed the cut. she missed friends that liked her for her. she missed having weightless shoulders. it seemed that everyday she was trying to live up to expectations her mother had that she could never meet, that she would never meet because they just weren’t her. so if she couldn’t be prim and proper, she could at least be pretty, right?

tw eating disorder, anorexia

early on, around the age of 14, she started to become hyper-critical of how she looked . . . and how it wasn’t reflective of this older stepsister her mom was in awe of. over time she developed anorexia nervosa, which took form in habits of rarely eating, at first but then progressed into compulsively exercising. it took a toll on her physically and mentally, and eventually she was just kind of the shell of who she used to be.

her father was the first to notice, and thus began a fight that would last two years between her parents. custody was called into question again, all while mason was in therapy and on a prescribed diet to get back to normal weight.

by 15, her father had accepted a newer higher paying job as a director the wildlife center, and he’d stepped back into the dating game. mason spent every other week with him, and her mental health seemed to only increase when she was back home in the cut.

by 16, a final decision was made, granting matthew full custody of mason after a judge took her health and wants into consideration. this was the same time that they moved in with the bauers , and none other than miss finley bauer became, after a little bit of a rocky start, the sister she’d always wanted.

things were good for a long while, and they’ve stayed that way for the most part. heading back to school with the pogues had its hitches, and there are still people who think she might’ve gotten a little too close with the kook side of things, but for the most part, mason moving back was a homecoming. she saw her mother every other weekend and on some holidays, and though she wasn’t made to be a deb, she still had to participate in a few things like midsummers and what not. this time with a little more of a mason spin on it, quietly causing a little trouble where she could. 

she did exceptionally well in school, and by the time she graduated high school, she’d saved up enough and snagged enough s

cholarship money to attend columbia university in new york where she studied journalism. she loved the schoolwork but sorted hated the culture of the city and struggled to find her place. sophomore year she had an ED relapse, but got through it with the insistence of her family.

she recently graduated from columbia with honors, and now she’s back in pogue territory with no idea what the fuck comes next. she doesn’t know where she wants to live, or even if she’s ready for the real world. with grad school and a big girl job on her mind, she’s preoccupied and lost in her thoughts a lot of the time, but she’s happy to be home and happy to be taking a year off to figure it out in coston.

PERSONALITY. 

mason’s got a quiet sort’a nature about her. she’s never the center of attention or the star of the show, and she doesn’t really care to be. part of that quiet nature comes from the unacknowledged lack of self confidence that still lingers under the surface, but most of it just stems from the fact that she was an only child or a misfit child for a long time, so she’s used to keeping to herself. quiet gives her the ability to observe.

that said,.. she’s a bit of a nancy drew type. definitely intuitive, definitely curious, definitely a little too nosy for her own good. it’s what makes her so good on the journalism front, her need for answers and her ability to act on a hunch. if mason’s gut is telling her something, it’s generally right.

she’s an introvert for sure but that doesn’t mean she’s... not friendly. she might not be the first to strike up a conversation, but she’ll hold it for sure. with a bit of a dry sense of humor and a straight faced delivery, she might even shock you. overall, she’s very sweet. very easy to be around.

being observant and intuitive really leans into her being empathetic in that she’s . . . good at people. again, you might not know it since she does a good job of keeping to herself, but she’s very easy to be comfortable around, very easy to spill your secrets to, very easy to trust. which is fair!! because she’s quite trustworthy

though she doesn’t give out her own trust so easily and that absolutely stems from her mommy issues

she’s quite .. .. unforgiving with that sort of thing, too. once you lose it, it’s gone. once you break it, it’s broken. 

super laid back which occasionally looks like apathy . . . but. that’s far from the truth

she’s passionate about a lot , but she’s not going to waste her breath arguing with someone who isn’t willing to learn or compromise.

fearless in a very quiet way like . . . the way i explain it is this: if a whole group was arguing ab who was going into a haunted house first, she wouldn't participate in the argument. she'd just kinda .. . blink . .. and then turn her flashlight on and walk in first

always up for adventure. that little shrug and ‘why not’ sort’a vibe when you ask her to do something is actually a hard yes from miss mason

level-headed as fuck, will keep you sound of mind in a fight

loves being outdoors, especially by the water

rides a longboard everywhere despite having a car

has broken her left wrist twice due to falling out of trees. still has not learned her lesson and will continue to climb trees bc it’s a nice place to sit and read ig chill out tarzan

super mellow. if she were music, she’d probably be a bob marley song

will answer your question with a question bc one: she doesn’t like talking about herself and two: she’s genuinely curious

honestly very smart . . . like clever as the devil and twice as pretty but book smart too . . .. good for her bc her mun could neVer

will not take help if her life depends on it i s2g this idiot could be sinking in quicksand and she’d be like ‘it’s fine i can gET OUT ON MY OWN’

freelance photographer, mostly for the coston paper

bartends at a local dive on fridays/saturdays, otherwise catch her in an ugly tennis skirt lookin uniform at the clubhouse serving old men shitty bloody marys and wishing she could commit murder when they hit on her 

loves her people relentlessly but chooses them very very carefully

did not like living in new york one bit lemme tell ya

always carrying around a film camera. always. 

writes in the margins of all of her books... and even in the margins of her own notes for annotation purposes

brain always running at 139871 mph which is why she’s in her thoughts a lot like she rly is just trying to sort it out

CONNECTION IDEAS.

childhood friends . . . that stayed friends even as she crossed into kook territory . . . and that didn’t stay friends and have since drifted 

the one (1) kook that prob welcomed her and honestly is still pals with her because there’s a genuine friendship there not just a toleration

a skinny love that was at it’s prime during childhood like these two were gonna grow up and get married, had their first kiss on a dare while sitting in a literal tree, old old friends that idk mayb they’re still pining because that like never went away!! or maybe ‘you’ve changed’ and now it’s uhhh.. different

an ex on the kook side would be a fuckin adventure especially if it was after she moved back to the cut and was like i waNT nothing to do with ANY of them . .. , except that one i like that one

an ‘enemy’ aka someone she just never clicked with and they’ve been at each others throats since high school

u KNOW miss mason sterling is all about her girl gang shit so gimme that

the brother she never asked for! never really wanted! but, begrudgingly, needs

ANYWAY THAT’S MASON!!! overall. . . .. she's mellow. v calm, v levelheaded, v to herself. observant and a lil nosy. fearless to a fault on occasion, and stubborn in her independence. loves her people, but chooses them carefully. shouldn't be climbing trees. uHhHhhHhhH hit me up on discord or like this and i’ll come bother u for PLOTS so we can get this thing poppin’ ok that’s all

[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.

[berlinner]

irish

even though i work at an Irish bar and spend 6 nights a week at another one, i’m not of the green, not even close. German/French/Scot is the mutt i am. still, when i think about them, these loud, red-faced boy/men who have become my friends, i like what i see. i like how hard they work. i like the juice they give a good story. i like how they laugh from the toes up and that they know how to sing, gifted or otherwise, balls to the stinking wall. i admire their healthy regard for death, the ritual of the wake, of seeing the body, of bidding farewell and drinking ferociously to the memory of. i respect their reluctance to open up, to deliver the dark secret of the self. however, once you earn their trust, the connection is unbreakable. they have your back and you theirs, end of story. loyalty is  the Bible and you don’t fuck with it. likewise, the pub is their church, a club house of celebration, belonging, wound nursing and absurdity. of course it’s the Irish ‘disease’, the alcohol fixation, that gets called out. booze kills, grows a liquor nose, ruins families, makes liars and lousy fathers — the all-too-familiar list of debilitation. on the other hand one can’t help but envy these blokes and broads and their athletic bouts of drinking: a pint in a slobbery mouth, numbing away a shitty day. a clink of the glass to a good joke. forcing an ugly shot down a reluctant throat. jacking up enough courage to make a move on the snotty bitch at the end of the bar and so it goes. here lies an exuberance that has no twin in any culture i can think of. we Wasps have our fussy Martinis and wry smiles. in Paris, the little finger rises like a baby penis, a prissy sniff of fine wine. the Japanese shatter themselves silly in safe houses of repute, but practice daytime decorum with perfect Samurai hair. vodka ripped Russians tend to fight each other as much as the Irish, but are dour, pasty faced and depressive. Hispanics know how to party, but don’t, near as i can tell, genuflect at the gate of the corner pub. these Irish own the map. they throw back booze with an abandon that is as childlike as it is insane. i for one can’t keep up. 4 or 5 puny Miller Lites and i’m kaput. add a sickening shot and my mouth hangs open like a fuck doll. these guys, these shit-faced Irish hounds achieve that rare rubbery gift of a good sentence, a lacerating point of view, a sudden jerked-open window of insight no matter how many sheets to the wind. the other night is a case in point. 2 bartenders from the Brendan Behan (named after the famous alky/poet himself and hung with portraits of Irish writers and drunkards) share that rarest of rejoicings: a double birthday, same exact. ‘he has my brain’ says one. the other is jumping up and down on a bar bench, squinty-eyed, spewing beer like piss onto the floor, lost in a parallel universe. back from crowd surfing at a Pogues concert, back to the Behan kite high, out-of-body happy and full of arrgh, they kill the rasta oiling out of the speakers, crank up the Pogues, link arms in a scrum and sing, the loudest lung work i’ve heard since the fat lady sang in ’04 and the Yankees watched hell freeze over. i don’t know any of the songs, but they they rope me in nevertheless. i nod like Hillary Clinton as they shout out, nose-to-ceiling, a cluster fuck of bellowing cross-eyed lions. my outsider identity dissipates as they explode these glorious, raging songs. it doesn’t matter that i can’t join in. fuck that. i love every awkward minute. they eye each other like dogs who’d spent the day chasing a rabbit down a hole. this is not stereotypical male bonding. no sir. it’s more like a fist of 21st Century Captain Bloods riding a Kami Kazi rocket into an Irish worm hole. this double birthday beams the rest of us up. i brake away and return to the bar for my weak-assed Miller Lite and my periscope view of the crowd, the boy scan. meanwhile the joint is on it’s feet rocking in a frenzy of song or blinking from an uptight distance, missing out entirely. the ‘best night of my life, ever’ says one. i look him in the eye just to be sure he means it. of course he does. how many of those can you count on one hand? and damned if you don’t need to be Irish to know the fookin’ difference. CODA: i ran into a Behan rat who’d been off the sauce for a week. ‘how’s it going?’ i ask. ‘great! i feel great!’ ‘really?’ i say. ‘how come?’ i know a guy with pills.’ ‘pills?’ ‘yeah.’ ‘what kind?’ ‘Xanax.’ ‘oh…i see. cool.’

This is an excerpt from my book, The Paragraphs — Cutlass Press

About The Paragraphs and how to order

Link to buy

Or here

[repwincostl4m0a2]

Party Time: Welcome to America’s Top 10 Booziest—and Soberest—Cities

Matt Ludtke/Getty Images

It isn’t a stretch to say that alcohol helped build our nation. From bathtub gin to the Old-Fashioneds of the “Mad Men” era, kegerators to craft beer, the Boston Tea Party to Long Island iced teas, boozy beverages have played a prominent role in American history and culture. Legend even has it that dwindling beer rations are what prompted the pilgrims to land on Plymouth Rock.

“We could not now take time for further search or consideration, our victuals being much spent, especially our beer,” one settler wrote of the voyage.

And it wasn’t Homer Simpson who said, “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” It was founding father Ben Franklin, a gentleman who famously enjoyed his tipple. 

We’re a nation of drinkers, and our love affair continues unabated. You got a problem with that?

Sure, tastes and preferences change over the years. Whiskey is gaining fast on vodka. Beer’s still the drink of choice for the majority of Americans—about 43% in 2016, according to Gallup—but not as popular as in ’92, when 47% of folks regularly enjoyed a can or bottle of suds. Meanwhile, wine lovers may make up only about a third of all drinkers, but those regularly savoring delicious glasses of pinot noir or sauvignon blanc have risen 5% over the same period.

For those looking for an excuse to imbibe, Saint Patrick’s Day is as fine a time as any to throw on a leprechaun sweater, belt out some Pogues tunes, and savor a few dark pints of Guinness or some Irish whiskey.

“Drinking is entertainment,” says Wayne Curtis, author of “And a Bottle of Rum: A History of the New World in Ten Cocktails.” It’s other things, too. A time-proven social lubricant. A salve for the endless stressors of modern life. And, sometimes, a crutch.

Some cities, for better and worse, clearly enjoy drinking more than others. So in honor of one of the two great alcohol-fueled holidays, we decided to rank the 300 largest U.S. cities based on these criteria:

Rate of binge drinking (five drinks over a two-hour stretch for a man, or four for a woman, at least once a month)

Number of bars, wineries, breweries, distilleries, and liquor stores per capita

Percentage of homes with a wet bar

Number of drug and alcohol rehab centers per capita

Percentage of traffic fatalities that are related to alcohol

The region where you live can have a big influence on how much you pound down at the bar, says William Kerr, director of the Alcohol Research Center in Emeryville, CA. For example, alcohol consumption is high in the chilly states of the northern Midwest and New England. (Hot toddy, anyone?) Meanwhile, the drinking rate tends to be lowest in the Bible Belt and in heavily Mormon Utah.

Your salary plays a role, too.

“We generally see that as income goes up, people are more likely to be drinkers,” Kerr says. Something to strive for, fellow Americans!

Of course, as you can tell by some of the criteria above, heavy drinking can have serious consequences. So designate a driver in case the fumes coming off our list of booziest cities intoxicate you, and read on. Here are some of the things we learned:

Boozy Trend No. 1: The Rust Belt loves its alcohol

What could possibly be better than a bottle of ice-cold beer at a Packers game? Three bottles.

Green Bay, WI, is the nation’s booziest city, boasting more than 150 years of suds-making history. Evidence is everywhere you look: couples in wedding gowns posing for photos next to brewing tanks, tourists and locals strolling through exhibitions in the National Railroad Museum, more likely than not with sweaty brown bottles in hand.

Perhaps there’s too much evidence. Green Bay has the highest binge drinking rate in our study. A staggering 24% of adults confess to railroading several drinks at least once a month, compared with 17% nationally.

“There [are] bars everywhere. It’s just part of the culture,” says Kevin Revolinski, author of “Wisconsin’s Best Beer Guide.” “We joke about it: that people will maybe go to the pub after church, put their kid on the bar in a diaper, and have a beer for lunch.”

Nearly 150 miles away from Green Bay, Madison (No. 4) residents also enjoy kicking back with a few brewskis. It’s a college town, after all: The University of Wisconsin–Madison has more than 43,000 students. We’d like to think at least a few are hard at work studying, but let’s just say they help keep the downtown bars and clubs in business.

Some attribute the drinking culture to Wisconsin’s heavy German heritage—and it was the Germans who popularized hopped beer and those sprawling beer gardens that populate the state.

The cultural affinity for beer is also reflected in the state’s lax liquor laws. Underage drinkers can consume alcohol in a bar as long as they’re accompanied by a parent, guardian, or spouse of legal drinking age.

Meanwhile, Pittsburgh (No. 10) has its own long love affair with beer. Almost as soon as people settled in the region, the brewing began. The city’s first brewery opened in 1765, 11 years before the United States became a nation. Priorities are priorities.

Boozy Trend No. 2: Hipster cities dig craft beer and cocktails Attendees at the Great American Beer Festival in Denver love beer so much, they even love fictional beers.

Doug Pensinger/Getty Images

Both Denver (No. 2) and Portland, OR (No. 9), are young, hip, and ready to party. It’s common to see movie theaters pairing popcorn with beer (delicious, really), and food trucks with separate stations for cocktails.

From Williams & Graham, which was a speakeasy disguised as a corner bookstore during Prohibition, to City O’City, a coffee shop by day and pub by night, Denver has a head-spinning 650 bars listed on Yelp.

Denver is also the birthplace of Modern Drunkard Magazine, dedicated to the art and culture of drinking. It gained national attention in 2004, when publisher Frank Kelly Rich wrote an impassioned editorial protesting the reduced alcohol content of Jack Daniel’s Black Label, which had gone from 86 proof to 80 proof. The outrage!

Colorado is renowned for its craft breweries, and Denver is overflowing with them, says Cody Gabbard, a beer writer for Denver’s 303 Magazine and advocate for all things fermentable. Some of the best can be found in the River North Art District, Denver’s new “it” neighborhood near downtown.

“About eight breweries opened in the last two years” in River North, he says.

Many of the city’s young residents see no contradiction between heavy drinking and the famously outdoorsy Colorado lifestyle, says Robert Sickler, owner of Finn’s Manor, a Denver craft cocktail bar.

“They want to go out and about, meet people, make their acquaintance, and enjoy their time after a hike or a bike ride”—preferably with a beer, he says.

Portlanders also enjoy a refreshing alcoholic beverage, or four. But bars in the city are required to serve food with alcohol to promote “healthier drinking.”

“The drinking culture really goes hand in hand with the dining culture,” says bartender Jeffrey Morgenthaler, who manages two bars at the Portland Ace Hotel. “It’s not a city full of people who are just getting drunk all the time; it’s a real social atmosphere.”

And taverns are just about everywhere in this hipster mecca. Be prepared to walk into a random store and realize, “Oh, it’s also a bar.” There’s a bike repair shop that has 12 taps, a video arcade that names cocktails after video games, and a leather goods store that tucks a bar in the back patio.

Boozy Trend No. 3: Cold weather drives people to drink Spokane, WA: Wanna keep shoveling, or just go grab a beer?

Jan Stromme/Getty Images

File this one under “obvious”: Researchers have pointed out a link between heavy drinking and latitude. As it turns out, the farther people are from the equator, the more likely it is that they drink. When winter days get long, dark, and freezing, locals tend to turn to alcohol to combat boredom and depression. Guess what the heaviest-drinking country in the world is? Russia.

In the U.S., cities in the snowy north—Billings, MT (No. 3), Spokane, WA (No. 7), and Fargo, ND (No. 8)—have a strong penchant for booze.

Downtown Billings offers as diverse and welcoming a drinking scene as most big cities, but at a much lovelier price. Happy hours offer $2 beers, $3 margaritas, and $3 fireball shots. (Don’t ask.)

Driving under the influence accounted for 14.3% of all arrests in Montana, among the highest rate in the country, according to 2015 FBI data.

Meanwhile, college football tailgating—and all the booze that goes along with it—is huge in Fargo. Tailgater Magazine (it’s real!) named North Dakota State University the 14th-best place for parking-lot partying.

Boozy Trend No. 4: Cities dominated by young guys imbibe more

“States like North Dakota and Wyoming generally have a higher percentage of male and generally younger people,” says Kerr from the Alcohol Research Center. Simply put: “Those groups drink more, regardless of where they are.”

The preponderance of men is at least somewhat due to the oil industries in both of the states, and Wyoming’s coal business.

And younger, unmarried people often aren’t saddled with the same responsibilities as those who are raising families—meaning that they may have way more time and money to buy a few rounds at the bar.

Sober Trend No. 1: Religion and benders don’t mix

Apparently, every month is #Dryanuary in Utah—many residents take a pass on alcohol all year long. That’s due to the state’s large population of devout Mormons, who abstain from drinking alcohol as well as caffeine, aided (no coincidence) by the state’s stringent liquor laws.

In restaurants opened after 2009, Utah bartenders are required to mix drinks out of view behind the so-called “Zion Curtain,” or to have a 10-foot buffer zone, prohibited to minors, between the alcohol-serving area and the rest of the eatery.

Any beer that exceeds 4% by volume is considered “liquor,” and is therefore banned from groceries and convenience stores. And remember, you can have more than one drink in front of you, but you can’t order a “double.” Got it? (Us neither,)

In Provo (No. 1), only 7.1% of adults engage in binge drinking, by far the lowest percentage in our study. West Jordan (No. 3), south of Salt Lake City, has only five bars on Yelp, including Applebee’s (which tells you a lot in itself).

As for Salt Lake City, it missed the top list because of the growing number of bars. Sometimes called “Silicon Slopes,” the city’s tech industry and proximity to world-class skiing have attracted young transplants from all over the country. That increases the demand for real, honest-to-gosh drinking establishments. But the binge drinking rate still remains low, at 11.6%.

Religion is also part of the reason why Memphis, TN (No. 6), made the list. Even though it’s hard to imagine scores of musicians without a drink in hand, the city has a large Baptist population, many of whom abstain. Only 9.6% of the adults there are heavy drinkers.

Sober Trend No. 2: Suburbanites don’t party where they sleep Daly City may be on the coast, but as far as alcohol consumption goes, it’s pretty dry.

MarkHatfield/iStock

Several of the most sober cities, including Daly City, CA (No. 2), El Monte, CA (No. 5), and Hialeah, FL (No. 8), are family-oriented bedroom communities located just outside bigger metros. So they often don’t have quite so many bars.

That means that if you live in Daly City, you need only to travel less than 10 miles into that bar mecca San Francisco. Residents of El Monte are only about a half-hour away from Los Angeles. And Hialeah residents can hop on the train to get to Miami, only about a dozen miles away.

Even if you’re traveling for your tipple, just be sure not to drink and drive, OK?

“At the end of the day, [drinking] comes down to a sense of moderation,” says Ted Haigh, aka Dr. Cocktail, author of “Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails.”

Data: realtor.com®, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Census Bureau County Business Pattern, Yelp.com, National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, County Health Rankings, RehabCenter.net

The post Party Time: Welcome to America’s Top 10 Booziest—and Soberest—Cities appeared first on Real Estate News & Advice | realtor.com®.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2mZOIiO

[itneverendshere]

the way i can see rafe rolling his eyes when he hears you yell across a party for jj to knock it off in picking a fight, and laughs at jj when he listens to you, and is like an embarrassed little dog.

a perfect world where rafe realizes he and jj are the same person in different fonts <3 thank you for the request, i love jj in this lmao😭🩵

 you say you got it & you have to let me see - r.c

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

The annual boneyard party was in full swing, and like clockwork, someone was trying to start shit.

You stood close to Rafe, your hand loosely gripping a beer bottle as you watched the mess unfold in front of you. "JJ!" you called out, voice loud and clear across the sand. "Knock it off!"

Rafe felt the corner of his mouth twitch, suppressing a grin. It wasn't even surprising anymore.

JJ Maybank—still the same hot-headed teen who grew up a few doors down from you—was in some guy's face, already half a second away from getting clocked.

His first instinct was to roll his eyes. Every year. Every damn year, JJ managed to start up some bullshit. Rafe glanced down at you, saw how your brow furrowed in annoyance, and the urge to laugh took over instead.

It was kind of funny, watching JJ go from ready to swing to immediately backing off the second you opened your mouth.

JJ turned like a kid caught stealing cookies from the jar, hands half-raised in defense as he looked at you with wide eyes. “Chill! I wasn’t even—”

"Yeah, yeah," you cut him off, pointing your beer in his direction. "Save it. Just walk away, okay?"

And, of course, he did.

Like a scolded puppy, he muttered something under his breath before shoving his hands into his pockets and trudging off. Rafe snorted, shaking his head. "Little brother still listens to you, huh?"

You shot him a look, half-smiling. "Someone's gotta keep him in line."

"Yeah, well," Rafe glanced at JJ’s retreating figure, still chuckling under his breath, "It's funny watching him tuck his tail between his legs every time."

He wasn’t usually one for parties like this anymore—too many reminders of who he used to be—but being here with you made it easier. You grounded him. Three years of dating, living together, dealing with life’s shitstorms, and somehow you still managed to make everything feel lighter.

You narrowed your eyes, “Don’t think you’re so different from him Mr. No one talks down to my girlfriend.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he took a long sip from his beer, savoring the burn of the carbonation on his throat. You had him there. Not that he was gonna admit it. “That was different,” he drawled, flashing you a smirk.

“Uh-huh,” you said, arching an eyebrow. “How, exactly?”

He scratched at his jaw, the familiar prickle of stubble reminding him he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “I mean, I didn’t throw a punch every time. Just made it clear no one’s gonna talk shit.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips twitched. “You’re lucky I love you, Cameron.”

Rafe’s heart did that stupid thing it always did when you said stuff like that, even after all these years. He could play it cool all he wanted, but you knew how to get to him. Always did.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, stepping a little closer, his body blocking the cool breeze coming off the ocean. He could smell the saltwater and smoke, but all he cared about was the warmth radiating from you. He took a swig of his beer, watching the flames from the bonfire dance against the night sky. “How many more times you think you’ll have to pull him out of a fight tonight?”

You tilted your head, thinking for a second before shrugging. “Depends on how much he’s had to drink.”

JJ was like a golden retriever sometimes—quick to rile up, but just as quick to bounce back. Rafe watched him for a second, the way he moved through the crowd, all ego and no direction. It reminded him of himself when he was younger. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“He’s gonna make it hard for me to take him seriously if you keep saving his ass.”

"Like you’ve ever taken him seriously," you shot back, giving him a playful shove.

True. Rafe couldn’t remember a single time in the last few years where JJ had been more than an annoyance. 

"God, it’s like he’s still twelve or something," you muttered, shaking your head. You took a step closer to him, your arm brushing his. The firelight flickered in your eyes, making you look impossibly warm.

The kind of warmth Rafe had gotten used to over the years. The kind he was lucky to have. He turned to face you, an easy smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, but at least it’s entertaining.”

You smirked. "For now. I give it an hour before he’s passed out in the sand."

He tilted his head, giving you a mock-serious look. “You wanna place a bet on that?”

You squinted at him like you were actually considering it. “What’s the wager?”

Rafe leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Winner gets to pick what we do tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but knowing exactly what he’d want if he won. He could feel the stupid velvet box burning in his pocket. He carried it everywhere, hoping he’d man up and do it already. He couldn’t do it now—not here, not like this, not with JJ stumbling around somewhere in the background and the sound of half-drunk partygoers laughing around you.

“I don’t know. Maybe spend the day out on the boat. Just the two of us.”

“Alright, deal,” you said, holding out your hand for him to shake, “Sounds nice.”

Nice wasn’t even close to what he had in mind.

He took your hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled you in closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. You let out a small laugh, leaning into him. The beer bottle in your hand dangled lazily at your side. You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Rafe let out a breathy chuckle, turning his head to capture your lips with his. The kiss was slow, lazy even, like there wasn’t a party around you. “Still think I’m cute, huh?” 

You gave him a look, lips curving into a shit-eating-grin. “When you’re not acting like JJ.”

He groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Don’t compare me to that fuckin' idiot.”

You just grinned, pulling away slightly, though your hand stayed on his chest. “Relax. You’re cuter, baby.”

“Damn right,” Rafe muttered, tugging you back to him. He liked having you close like this—reminded him that no matter how much shit had changed, some things stayed solid. You. Him. This.

He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair, and let out a contented sigh. 

JJ had somehow found another beer, and as Rafe glanced his way, he saw Kie giving him a hard time, probably for almost getting into it earlier.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” you asked, following Rafe’s gaze.

“Who, JJ and Kie?” He shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “Maybe. Probably not, though. They’re both too stubborn.”

You hummed in agreement, resting your head against his shoulder. “Sounds familiar.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, we turned out alright, didn’t we?”

You smiled up at him, the firelight dancing in your eyes. “Yeah, we did.”

Just as you and Rafe were starting to get lost in your own little world, a sudden shout cut through the noise of the party. Rafe glanced up and spotted JJ again, this time charging toward some guy who was standing way too close to Kie. 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

JJ's posture tense, fists clenched at his sides, and his voice already rising in that familiar way that screamed trouble. "Hey, man, back the fuck off!" He growled, pushing the guy away from Kie. The dude barely had time to react before JJ was already up in his face, looking like he was seconds away from throwing a punch.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Rafe muttered under his breath.

Without a second thought, he downed the last of his beer and started striding toward fight. You followed, a little concerned but mostly impressed by how quickly he handled it. He was always the one who kept things calm now—so different from his hot-headed younger days.

“Maybank!” Rafe’s voice boomed across the beach, and you could hear the change in tone.

He was done playing around.

JJ, too focused on trying to defend Kie’s honor, didn’t even hear him. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from the guy before anything could escalate further.

The younguer blonde whipped around, ready to argue, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Rafe. “Dude, I—”

“Start walking,” He hauled him a few feet away, practically dragging him while the other guy quickly disappeared into the crowd.

You couldn’t help but watch the way Rafe took control of the situation, handling JJ like a dad trying to wrangle a rowdy teenager. You could see the way he deflated in response. He’d grown to respect Rafe too much to keep pushing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Rafe said, his grip still tight on JJ’s shirt. “You’re gonna get yourself knocked out one of these days if you don’t stop acting like you need to throw hands over every little thing.” JJ scowled but didn’t say anything, and Rafe shook his head, letting him go. “Seriously, Kie can handle herself. And if she needs backup, that’s what we are for—not you getting your ass handed to you every time some guy breathes in her direction.”

JJ kicked at the sand, muttering something under his breath, but he knew better than to argue. Rafe’s voice softened a little, seeing JJ’s shoulders slump. “Look, I get it. But not like this. Not here.”

He nodded once, reluctantly, and Rafe gave him a rough pat on the shoulder before turning back to you. He caught your eye, and you felt the pride bloom in your chest. The way he handled himself, the way he diffused situations—it wasn’t just about being strong anymore, it was about knowing how to lead, how to take care of the people he loved. And, honestly? It was a turn-on.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him as he came back over to you. He looked so composed, so solid, and that arm of his, the way he pulled JJ back without breaking a sweat—it had your mind going places. Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

“What?” he asked, already knowing you were checking him out.

You stepped closer, trailing your fingers up his arm, feeling the strength in the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.

“Nothing,” you murmured, biting your lip as your eyes met his. “Just proud of you.”

Rafe chuckled, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling you against him. “Proud, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, pressing yourself closer, feeling the warmth of his body. “It’s kinda hot.”

“That what does it for you now? Me playing babysitter?”

You laughed softly, your hand still resting on his arm, fingers trailing along his bicep. “Not just that. The way you handled it. You’re just—”

Rafe’s hand slid down your back. “Just what?” he asked, his breath hot against your neck.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart pick up speed. "Strong.” You smirked, letting your hand slide lower, down the curve of his chest. “Kinda makes me wanna—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his mouth moving against yours with a kind of slow intensity that had you melting into him. His hand gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer, because he could never have enough of you. 

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you a little breathless, he smirked down at you. “You keep talkin' like that, we might need to leave this party a little early.”

You grinned up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Might not be the worst idea,” you teased, your voice low. “Think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Rafe chuckled, his lips brushing against your forehead before he pulled away just enough to glance over his shoulder, making sure JJ wasn’t about to start up more trouble.

When he saw everything was calm, he turned back to you, “Let’s get outta here, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

He pulled you in close as you reached the car, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, making your head spin all over again.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he whispered against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Get in the car, Cameron.”

[itneverendshere]

wait you guys watching milo one night, and rafes like “when is it gonna be out baby”

this was ridiculously cute to write oh my god!!!!! love their dynamic 😭😭😭😭 thank you for the request ❤️

so blessed to be looking at you- r.c

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

Milo's little hand gripped the sleeve of your hoodie, his fingers sticky with remnants of the peanut butter crackers he’d demolished not twenty minutes ago. You’d just finished washing the kid’s sippy cup when you heard the familiar thud of Rafe’s feet on the floor behind you.

You were at his house, tucked into the living room, the glow from the huge fireplace casting shadows over everything. Milo was sitting cross-legged on the rug, eyes locked on some cartoon with way too many bright colors. Every once in a while, he'd giggle at something on the screen, and it made your heart swell.

Rafe slid up behind you as you walked into the living room, wrapping his arms around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You’re real good at that, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes, like always, but smiled anyway. “Yeah, well, someone has to be. My sister’s been running that graveyard shift all week. Milo’s practically my roommate at this point.”

He laughed softly, his chest vibrating against your back. He watched you twist the cap back onto the cup and set it down on the coffee table before turning you around in his arms. His eyes watched you closely, "You're so good with him," he said again.

You shrugged it off, though you warmed at the compliment. “I’ve had practice. Milo’s been around since I was seventeen, so I kinda had to figure it out.”

His hands lingered on your waist for a moment longer before he stepped away, glancing over at Milo, who was still oblivious to the conversation.

“Kid’s lucky he’s got you.”

You leaned back against the couch, watching Rafe watch Milo. It was something you’d noticed over the past few months — how he had softened around Milo, almost like he’d started to think of him as part of your little world. Whenever your sister needed help with him, Rafe was always down to hang out, no complaints.

If anything, he seemed to like it.

You’d only been dating for a year, but you’d already lost count of how many times he’d mentioned wanting kids. Not in a weird, pushy way, but just casually. Whenever you’d see a baby at the beach or out on the boat, he’d smile, and that sparkle would hit his eyes, and he’d say something like, “That’ll be us one day.”

You loved that he thought about it, thought about you like that, but you were always quick to keep him in check. You were still figuring out this whole relationship thing. Still, seeing him watching Milo like that, looking all soft and affectionate? Yeah, it did something to you.

“You good over there?” You asked, breaking him out of whatever trance he was in.

Rafe blinked and looked back at you, grinning in that way that made your stomach flip. “Yeah, just thinkin’.”

“About?” You raised an eyebrow.

He walked over, plopping down next to Milo on the floor, ruffling his messy curls. Milo laughed, swatting Rafe’s hand away, then promptly went back to his cartoon.

“When’s it gonna be our baby?” Rafe asked, so relaxed, you almost thought you misheard him.

“What?”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “I mean, you and me — we’ve talked about it before. You’re so good with Milo, and I like having him around. Feels right, y’know?”

Your heart did that stupid flip-flop thing again, and you bit down on your bottom lip to stop you from smiling like an idiot. You knew he was serious, even though he was trying to make it sound light.

“Rafe, we’ve been dating for a year,” You reminded him, “Let’s not go putting the cart before the horse.”

He tilted his head, giving you that lopsided grin that always made me weak. “A year’s a long time, baby. I know what I want.”

You sighed, but there was no hiding the fact that you loved hearing him say stuff like that. He was so sure, so steady. It was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place — how Rafe could be chaotic, reckless even, but when it came to you, he was all in.

You walked over to the couch, dropping onto the cushion and grabbing the remote to turn down the volume on the TV. Milo let out a little whine but didn’t protest too much since you left the screen on.

“You don’t even know what it’s like yet,” You teased. “Babies aren’t all cartoons and snacks, Rafe. They cry. A lot. Not to mention toddlers.”

Rafe shot you a look, his lips curving into a smirk. “You’re acting like I didn’t grow up with two little sisters running around screaming their heads off all day. I know what I’m getting into.”

You raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Okay, but babysitting your sisters is different than being there 24/7. Especially when it’s your kid. There’s no off-switch.”

He just shrugged, “I don’t need one. I’ll figure it out with you.”

That comment alone hit harder than he probably even realized. With you. Like it was just a given that whatever future kids came into the picture, they were going to be both of yours. He didn’t treat the idea like some far-off possibility — for Rafe, it felt like he was already there, just waiting for you to catch up.

You leaned back against the couch, watching him with Milo. Your nephew had crawled into Rafe’s lap now, not really watching the TV anymore, just playing with one of his trucks while Rafe absentmindedly pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“Does it freak you out?” He asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Huh?” Your head snapped up, meeting his blue eyes.

“The baby thing,” he clarified, looking almost shy, which was weird for him. Rafe never did shy. “Like, when I bring it up. Does it freak you out?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to figure out how to answer that without sounding like you were completely against the idea — because you weren’t. You did think about it, just like Rafe did, but maybe with a little more hesitation. It wasn’t that you didn’t see a future with him. If anything, you were more sure of it now than you’d ever been. But the whole baby thing? It was a lot. A lot of responsibility, a lot of life changes. You weren’t were ready for it yet, especially at twenty-one.

“I wouldn’t say freaked out…” you started, choosing your words carefully. “It’s more like—I just want to make sure we’re ready, you know? We’ve got time.”

He traced patterns on Milo’s back, the little boy already dozing off in his lap. “I get that,” Rafe nodded, “I’m not trying to rush you. Just— sometimes I think about what it’ll be like. Like, really picture it. You, me, and a little one.”

You smiled, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

The way he was talking, so openly, like this was his ultimate dream? It made your heart swell.

He wasn’t just saying it to sound cute —Rafe wanted this. Wanted you to be a part of it. You could tell that much by the look in his eyes, the sincerity there.

“Yeah,” you said softly, finally letting yourself imagine it, too. “I think about it sometimes.”

He grinned at that, like you’d just given him all the confirmation he needed. But then he tilted his head, studying you like he was reading every single thought racing through your mind.

“Don’t even think about it,” You warned him, scootching yourself away.

Rafe practically beamed, scooting closer to you on the couch like he hadn’t just been told off. “What? I’m not thinking about anything.”

You gave him a look, narrowing your eyes. “Oh, please. I know that look, Cameron.”

His grin widened like he was proud of himself for whatever scheme he had cooking up in his head.

“Okay, maybe I’m thinking a little. Can’t help it when you’re over here making me all soft and sentimental.”

It was so typical of Rafe to be half-joking, half-serious, always pushing just enough to get you thinking but not enough to freak you out. He had this way of getting under your skin and making you picture things.

Milo stirred in his lap, his body shifting. You both glanced down at him, expecting him to be waking up from his half-snooze. Instead, Milo blinked his big eyes open, looking groggy but alert.

“Where’s da baby?” Milo mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, making the tiniest pout you’d ever seen.

You and Rafe exchanged confused looks. “What baby, buddy?” Rafe asked, ruffling his curls softly.

Milo sat up, his brows furrowed, like he was personally offended by the question. 

“The baby! Dere was a baby! Where it go?” He looked around the room like it was hiding behind the couch or something.

Rafe glanced at you, utterly baffled, his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “Uh, Milo? I think you were dreaming, dude. No baby here.”

But Milo was having none of it. He looked at you now, all wide-eyed and serious. “No, dere was a baby! You had it, Auntie!”

You blinked, totally caught off guard, as Milo scrambled out of Rafe’s lap and stood up on the couch, looking around the room with this stubborn determination like he’d misplaced his toy truck. “Auntie had a baby! Where is it?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, clearly holding back a laugh. You raised your hands in surrender. “Milo, I swear, there’s no baby. Just you.”

Milo gave you a look that said he did not believe you. He crossed his little arms, glaring at the both of you like you were in on some kind of conspiracy.

“You’re hiding it.”

Rafe finally lost it and let out a snort, leaning back on the couch, looking at you with amusement written all over his face. “You’ve been holding out on me? You got a secret baby I don’t know about?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully in the ribs. “Don’t start.”

But Milo was still adamant, his little voice growing more insistent. “Auntie, I saw it! You were holdin’ da baby, and it had little feet! And it was cryin’! Where it go?”

You knelt down so you were eye level with him, “I think you were dreaming. You must’ve been sleeping really deep.”

Milo’s face scrunched up in thought, his head tilting to the side as he tried to process it. After a few moments, he let out a dramatic sigh, clearly disappointed. “Oh. I wanted to baby again.”

Rafe laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “This kid, man…”

You couldn’t help but smile at the whole thing, though there was something about the way Milo had said “Auntie had a baby” that sent a warm shiver down your spine. You caught Rafe’s eye, and he was already smirking, as if to say, See? Even Milo’s thinking about it.

Before you could answer, Milo yawned and plopped himself back down on the couch, clearly over his phantom baby drama, like it had never even happened.

Rafe leaned closer, whispering in your ear, “I mean, maybe Milo’s onto something.”

You gave him a playful shove, trying not to let the heat rise to your cheeks. “Shut up. He’s just dreaming, let’s get to bed.”

He chuckled under his breath as he got up from the couch, scooping a now sleepy Milo into his arms. Milo barely protested, his little head already resting against Rafe's shoulder, soft snores escaping his lips. You swore that kid slept like the dead. You grabbed his blanket from the armrest and followed them down the hallway. 

As Rafe tucked Milo into the small guest bed, you couldn’t help but stand in the doorway and watch the scene. He was so gentle, pulling the covers up to Milo’s chin and brushing a stray curl from his forehead. After making sure Milo was comfortable, he quietly shut the door behind him, and the two of you headed toward his bedroom. Sliding into bed, you were aware of Rafe’s eyes on you the entire time. He lay down beside you, resting on his side, propped up on his elbow. His other hand traced light patterns along your arm. Rafe’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer leaving just the sound of your breaths syncing up in the quiet room. He rested his chin on top of your head, his thumb lazily tracing circles on your back, like he couldn’t stop touching you.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

Rafe chuckled, his chest vibrating under you. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to memorize my face or something,” you teased, though you could feel his heart pounding steadily beneath your cheek.

He let out a soft sigh, his hand moving to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he looked down at you, it almost made you blush.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life now. That you’re here with me.”

Your heart stuttered at the sincerity in his voice. You looked up at him, suddenly feeling a little breathless. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice still quiet. “I’ve had a lot of crazy moments in my life, but this? Right here? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking him square in the eyes. “You know you didn’t give me much of a choice right?”

Rafe smirked, clearly amused. “Oh, didn’t I?” 

You gave him a playful slap on the bicep. “Nope. You practically steamrolled your way into my life.”

He chuckled softly, his hand catching yours and pulling it against his chest, holding it there as his thumb rubbed soothing circles over your knuckles. “Yeah, well, look how that turned out. Can’t say I regret it.”

He was stupidly charming. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Rafe grinned wider, pulling you closer until your noses nearly brushed. “Exactly. So, no complaints from you.”

You huffed, feigning annoyance. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think maybe I should’ve played a little harder to get. You barely gave me time to breathe.”

His lips twitched as he leaned in, brushing them against yours in the softest kiss. 

“I just knew what I wanted.”

[itneverendshere]

hi! For the bartender!Universe would u mind writing a pregnancy scare? It brings a lot of mixed emotions when they find out she wasn’t pregnant and it ends up a really deep talk about what they want with their future? Thank you so much 💕💕

i got a similiar ask at the exact same time so i decided to combine aspects of both!!! the other request: "this one’s a lil angsty. maybe you have a pregnancy scare and while rafes like super excited for the potential baby, you’re not, the stress of keeping rafe clean and not heading back to rehab lingers your mind".

hope you both enjoy!!!!❤️🫂🤭

 just want you in my life keep you warm at nights - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: pregnancy scare; insecurities

Rafe was sprawled out beside you, his arm draped lazily across your stomach as he scrolled through his phone. You could feel the pressure of his hand pressing gently on your skin, but your mind was a million miles away, your gaze stuck on the ceiling fan.

It felt like everything had been on autopilot for the past few days, your mind preoccupied with one thing—late. Not like a few days late.

More like over a week late.

It wasn’t the first time your period had been irregular, but you couldn’t help but spiral immediately. Rafe and you had been together for three and a half years, living together for a while now and he’d proposed last autumn. But this? This wasn’t part of the plan.

Not yet.

“Hey,” His voice snapped you back to the present, his brows furrowed as he looked at you, concern evident in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, trying to force a smile. “Nothing... just thinking.”

He shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you more closely. “Thinkin’ about what?”

You stomach dropped. You hadn’t told him yet. You weren’t sure if there was anything to tell because you hadn’t even taken the test. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. Saying it out loud would make it real. And that terrified you.

Rafe, on the other hand, would probably be thrilled. He’d always talked about kids like they were a given, like it was part of some unspoken future you were destined for. You wanted them too, but the truth? The truth was, the idea of being responsible for another human being when you were still trying to recover from Rafe's scare last year and keeping your shit together now that you’d gotten a promotion at the club—well, it felt like too much.

You couldn’t say that, though. Not to him. So you kept quiet. 

The next day, you stared at the small plastic stick in your hand, heart hammering in your chest as you waited for the result to appear. The bathroom was dead silent, save for the faint drip of the sink, but your mind was anything but quiet.

This one stupid piece of plastic was going to dictate the rest of your life. It could change everything in the blink of an eye. Three minutes. That’s how long it would take to find out if your entire world was about to be turned upside down.

You still hadn’t told Rafe. You didn’t even know how to. His mind was in a good place lately, and you weren’t about to ruin that. After everything we’d been through—the relapse, the rehab, the nights where you weren’t sure if he’d make it out—this was not something you were ready to throw on both of you.

You hadn’t even wrapped your head around it yet. Shit, you could barely breathe just thinking about the possibility. You glanced at your phone, biting your lip as the seconds ticked by.

Almost time. Your stomach twisted into endless knots. He was in the living room, blissfully unaware of the panic attack you were on the verge of having just a few feet away. You could hear him flipping through channels on the TV, probably looking for some show to watch. Part of you felt guilty for not telling him, but how were you supposed to tell him when you didn’t even know what you wanted?

The idea of being pregnant had scared you more than you expected.

Not because you hated kids or anything, you grew up rising Milo for fuck’s sake—it was just the timing. Or maybe it was more than that.

Your mom died shortly after you were born and your dad…well, a drunk piece of shit was hardly a good parental figure. You’d never let yourself think about it before, Rafe had told you how good you were with kids a million times over the years, but you didn’t know how you’d turn out with your own kids. You didn’t want to be anything like them, ever. 

Taking a deep breath, you finally glanced down at the test.

Negative.

Relief took over you so fast it made you feel lightheaded. You hadn’t realized just how much pressure you’d been carrying on your shoulders until it was gone in an instant. Thank God.

Your shoulders slumped as you exhaled, leaning against the sink for support. You felt like you finally could breathe again, like you could relax for the first time in what felt like weeks. There was no baby. No life-altering change. No new responsibility that you didn’t know how to handle.

You closed your eyes. This was good. This was the outcome you needed. No baby, no stress, just… back to normal.

But then, life had a twisted sense of humor and the door creaked open. “Hey, baby, you—”

Your eyes flew open, heart dropping in your chest as you quickly shoved the pregnancy test behind your back. Rafe stood in the doorway, looking at you with his signature confused look—one eyebrow cocked, lips slightly parted, like he’d walked in on something he wasn’t supposed to.

You forced a smile, too wide and too fake, and took a step back, trying to act casual. “Oh, uh, hey! What’s up?” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you internally winced. Smooth.

He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “What are you hiding behind your back?”

Shit.

You tried to laugh it off, shaking your head like it was no big deal. “Hiding? Me? I’m not hiding anything.”

His eyes moved to the hand behind your back. “Really? Because it sure looks like you are.”

You swallowed hard, your brain rushing to come up with some excuse, any excuse. 

But the longer you stood there, the more suspicious you looked. And Rafe was nothing if not persistent when he thought something was up. Before you could stop him, he pushed off the doorframe and closed the distance between you two, his hand reaching behind your back in one smooth motion. Your stomach dropped as he grabbed the test from your hand, pulling it out in front of both of us.

He stared at the pregnancy test in his hand, his eyes widening with realization as he slowly processed what he was seeing. What he was holding. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out at first. He just stood there. 

“Y-You thought you were pregnant?”

The heat rose to your cheeks, and the anxiety that had been building in your stomach for days came back at full force. You were still reeling from the relief of the negative result, but now that relief was giving up space for guilt. You hadn’t meant for him to find out like this, or maybe not even at all. You didn’t want to drag him into the spiral you’d been caught in, not when things had been going so well lately.

“I... I wasn’t sure,” you stammered, looking down at the floor because it was easier than meeting his eyes. “I mean, I was late, and I just…I didn’t know.”

Rafe’s face softened, the confusion in his eyes giving way to concern as he took a step toward you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing again, this time for a different reason. The last thing you wanted to do was lie but telling him the truth felt impossible.

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, “I wasn’t even sure if I was, and I didn’t want to freak you out for no reason.”

Rafe’s hand was still holding the test, but now he was looking at you with that intensity he always had when he knew you were telling the entire truth. He wasn’t mad—he never got mad, not anymore—but you could tell he was hurt that you hadn’t let him in. You felt awful about it.

“I wouldn’t have freaked out,” he said gently, stepping even closer until he was right in front of you. “You know that, right? You don’t have to do this alone.”

That was the thing, though. Over the past year you’d spent so long worrying about him, making sure he was healthy, that the idea of burdening him again with your own fears had become...strange.

You didn’t want to be another weight on his shoulders.

“I know, I just…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know how to feel about it. And I didn’t want you to—”

“To what?” he pressed softly, his voice so calm and reassuring that it made the stress loosen just a little.

You took a deep breath, “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, I guess. Or feel disappointed if it was negative.”

He set the test down on the counter beside him, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. “Baby, I wouldn’t be disappointed,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “If it had been positive, great. If it’s not, that’s fine too. We’ve got time. It’s not like we have to figure this out right now.”

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak. “You’re really not mad?”

Rafe shook his head, “I wish you would’ve told me what you were going through. I don’t want you to carry that by yourself.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. There was so much you wanted to say, so many fears you’d been holding onto—not just about the possibility of being pregnant, but about everything. About whether you were even ready for kids at all, about what kind of parent you’d be, about whether you could handle the responsibility when your past still haunted you in ways you hadn’t recovered from.

“It’s not just that,” you whispered, “I don’t know if I’m ready, Rafe. And it scares the shit out of me.”

He was silent for a moment, and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, his expression was so gentle, so understanding, that it almost broke you.

“Hey,” he pulled you into his arms. “We don’t have to be ready right now. There’s no rush. When you’re ready, we’ll talk about it."

You buried your face in his chest, letting him heartbeat calm you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and for the first time in what felt like days, you allowed yourself to relax.

“I-I know you want a baby. But—”

He sighed against your hair, lips brushing your temple, “What I want is for you to be happy. And if this doesn’t make you happy right now, I don’t mind waiting. We got forever, remember?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want kids—it was that right now, everything already felt like too much. Planning a wedding, keeping up with work, holding your relationship together after what you both had been through, it was all overwhelming. And then the idea of a baby on top of that? You’d grow crazy.

Rafe’s fingers brushed through your hair, and you just let yourself be in his comfort. But the guilt was still there, eating you whole from the inside. You should’ve told him from the start, not carried it all on your own like you always do.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered into his chest, voice muffled. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just didn’t know what to do. It’s been a lot lately.”

He kissed the top of your head, his hands gentle as they held you. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. You’re dealing with enough already.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I think I’m losing my mind.”

The wedding. God, the wedding. You hadn’t even let yourself fully acknowledge how much that had been stressing you out too. You’d dreamed about this day since you were a kid, but now, between caterers, guest lists, dress fittings, and everything else, it felt like a full-time job. And the worst part was, the more overwhelmed you got, the more guilty you felt for not being excited enough about it.

“I just want everything to be perfect,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I want it to be special, but it’s starting to feel like a chore. Like I’m supposed to care more about seating charts and floral arrangements than... than actually enjoying the fact that we’re getting married.”

 “Then let’s cut back. We don’t need some huge, over-the-top thing if it’s stressing you out. I just want to marry you, that’s all that matters to me.”

He always knew exactly how to calm you down, how to remind you what was important when everything else felt a little too crazy.

“But what about your family?” you asked, wiping at the corner of your eyes. “They’re expecting this big thing.”

He shrugged, “They’ll get over it. This is about us, not them. If you want something smaller, we can do that. Hell, we can get married in the backyard for all I care, as long as it’s what you want.”

The sincerity in his voice almost made you want to bawl your eyes out. You took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I think I’d like that. Something smaller. More us.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he nodded. You let out a sigh of relief, the knot in your chest loosening more. Maybe this was what you needed—to let go of the pressure to have it all figured out. To accept that it was okay to not be ready for everything.

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

“I love you too,” he replied, his forehead resting against yours. “But baby, you have to stop worrying so much about me. I’m okay. I’m doing good, and I’m not going back there. But you’re gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep putting me first and ignoring what you need.”

You blinked, your breath catching slightly. “I’m not ignoring what I need—”

“You are,” he cut in gently, but firmly. “You’ve been doing it for months now. Since the relapse, since rehab. You’ve been carrying all this, stressing about keeping everything together. And I love you for wanting to take care of me, but you can’t keep putting yourself second. It’s not fair to you.”

You wanted to argue, to say you were fine, that it was just what you had to do to keep everything from falling apart. But deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been holding on so tight, so terrified that if you let go, if you stopped worrying about him for even a second, you’d lose him again. 

“I’m just scared,” you whispered, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Rafe said softly, pulling you closer. “But if you keep this up, you’re gonna lose yourself.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your face into his chest as the tears you’d been holding back finally started to fall. Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this release for a long time. You couldn’t stop. Everything you’d been bottling up for months was spilling out at once.

Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this for a long time.

You pulled back slightly, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling what you’re feeling. But you’ve gotta start trusting that I’m okay."

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

"You’re allowed to let me take care of you too, you know?”

You let out a small laugh, wiping the last of the tears from your face. “I’m not great at that.”

“Meh, you used to be a lot worse.”

“Yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, leaning into his familiar warmth.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You used to keep everything so locked up, I’d have to pry things out of you.

His words made you chuckle, despite yourself. It was true. You had gotten better at letting him in—at least compared to before.

“You’ve always been so good at taking care of me,” you whispered, your hand tracing soft patterns across his chest. “But I guess sometimes I still forget that I don’t have to be strong all the time.”

 “You don’t. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve always got you.”

He meant it—every word. This was Rafe at his best, the man who had fought his way back from the darkness, who had become the partner you always knew he could be. The boy you fell in love with, the man you were going to marry and grow old with.

“I’m really trying,” you murmured, blinking back the last of your tears. “I don’t want to keep worrying about everything or trying to control what’s out of my hands. I just want us to be happy.”

“You make me happier than I’ve ever been, and I don’t want you to ever doubt that.”

You hesitated for a second, biting your lip before finally speaking up.

"Rafe?" you said softly, looking up at him. He hummed in response, his hand still tracing slow, comforting circles on your back.

"Are you… are you sure you're not sad about the, uh, not pregnant thing?" Your voice was quiet, unsure. You didn’t know why you felt the need to ask again. Even with all his reassurances, a part of you couldn’t ignore the worry that he might feel disappointed deep down.

He sighed gently, his lips quirking into a soft, understanding smile. "Baby, no," he said firmly, shaking his head as if to emphasize his point. "I promise you, I’m not sad. It doesn’t change anything between us. I told you before—we’ve got time. I’m happy with where we are right now. I don’t need a baby to make me feel complete. You already do that."

You couldn't help but ask again, just to be sure. "Really? You’re not disappointed?"

Rafe sighed softly, moving his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he looked at you with those steady blue eyes. "Not disappointed. Not sad. I’m just glad you’re here. That’s all I care about. I’m fine with whatever the outcome is as long as I have you.”

"You’re really okay with this?" 

He frowned slightly, his hand coming up to gently tilt your chin so you were looking directly at him. "Listen to me. You could never disappoint me. Okay?"

You still had questions, still had insecurities about the future, but for the first time in days, you weren’t consumed by them and allowed yourself to believe that everything really was going to be good.

"Okay."