#rafe cameron romance

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 5

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

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Author's Note: I tried a little something different with this, in which there's a convo that happens in Instagram DMs so I made like an edit and posted the screenshots as a way for you guys to read them! But I also put the conversation in the image description for each screenshot if it's easier to read that way! Let me know if you guys like it and I should continue doing that!

The brief nap and unexpected conversation with Rafe had sobered Isla up by the time she joins her friends in the backyard once again, all of whom are tipsy or beyond. As soon as he spots her, JJ shoves a cup of beer in Isla’s hand, which she accepts without a fight as she settles down at the base of a tree where her friends are sitting. The party around them rages on, people dancing and chatting and swimming and playing games, the music drifting through the air but nearly drowned out by the noise of everything else.

As she stretches her legs out, Pope sniffs the air and glances at her questioningly. “Were you smoking?”

Lips on the rim of her cup, her gaze darts to Pope’s, mildly surprised, while JJ pipes up, “Without me?”

“Not weed,” Pope tells him with a roll of his eyes.

Isla slowly lowers the cup. “Yeah. Bummed one off some guy,” she answers with a casual shrug.

Pope purses his lips at her. “Those things will kill you, you know.”

Widening her eyes, Isla gasps. “Really? I had no idea,” she exclaims, feigning shock and dissolving into laughter when Pope shoves her.

“Don’t come crying to me if you get lung cancer,” he says, leaning back on his hands resting on the grass, wincing when Cleo smacks him on the chest.

“Don’t joke,” she tells him pointedly, looking up at him with a half-hearted glare. He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead in apology, which seems to satisfy her. She lets out a long, content sigh. “This summer is going to be amazing, I can feel it,” Cleo  says from where she lays with her head on Pope’s lap. “The outdoor movies, boat rides, barbecues, concerts—I’m ready for it.”

Kie raises her cup of beer in cheers. “Back to OBX life, baby,” she grins.

Isla was of the same mindset, smiling into her next sip of beer as she thought of the coming months. It’s the last summer before college, and while in between all of the fun Isla and Kie will be working at their family’s restaurant, Isla is still looking forward to the summer.

They sat together, discussing their plans for the summer—most of them with each other—as the party continued on around them. Isla watches people jump into the pool, the group of them sitting far enough away from the splash zone, and she feels a smile tugging on her lips as she closes her eyes and leans her head up against the tree. The weather is perfect, warm with a cool breeze every now and then, and she lets out a long sigh of relief before taking another sip of beer.

“Midsummers is also coming up,” Sarah comments, prompting Isla to open her eyes while Kie groans.

“Don’t remind me,” her sister mutters, twirling a dandelion between her fingers, face scrunching in distaste. 

Isla gives a shrug. “I don’t mind it.”

Kie’s nose wrinkles. “You enjoy being surrounded by rich people who spend the night trying to one-up each other by flashing how much money they have?”

JJ snorts as he, Pope, and Cleo rearrange their sitting positions to engage in a game of cards. Isla rolls her eyes at Kie. “No. I just have fun dressing up and eating good food. Sue me.”

The food at Midsummers was always top tier, especially when Pope’s dad was running the oyster bar. “You’re such a girly girl,” Kie quips.

“Why is that a bad thing?” Isla retorts, arching an eyebrow. “Where else am I gonna get a chance to wear high heels and a dress? The Chateau?” She gets to her feet, feeling a little miffed at Kie’s comment. She and her sister share a lot of similarities, but they’re also plenty different; one of them being that Isla will never pass up an opportunity to dress up for an event. While she doesn’t particularly enjoy all of the events that they attend in Figure Eight, most of her joy comes from the process of getting ready, dressing up, doing her makeup. She’s always been that way, and no one has ever faulted her for it. Why should they?

But sometimes Kie’s distaste for all things Figure Eight gets the better of her, and she’ll get the tendency to make Isla feel bad for her not caring as deeply as Kie does. She’s a Pogue, just like her sister and friends, but is it so wrong to like some things about Figure Eight? Her friends don’t think so—of course, they don’t. If they did, John B wouldn’t be dating Sarah, who they all welcomed into their fold, nor would they be spending their Friday night at a party here, either. Kie can just take it too far sometimes.

“Where are you going?” she frowns up at Isla.

“I need some chips,” she says, which is only half true. She kind of doesn’t want to talk to Kie at the moment. It’s nothing serious, just some sisterly annoyance which she’ll get over in the next five minutes. She is kind of hungry, though.

John B pushes himself up, too. “I’ll come with.” Standing straight, he reaches down to brush some of Sarah’s blonde locks away from her face. “Want anything?”

She shakes her head, smiling. “I’m okay.”

“I’m good too,” JJ tells John B with a smirk.

“Same,” Pope and Cleo add, twin shit-eating grins on their faces. John B merely flips them all off and joins Isla on the trek towards the house, throwing his arm over her shoulders. 

“You good, buddy?” John B asks her as they walk by the pool.

Isla nods, chin lifting slightly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she responds, wincing only slightly as they pass by the speaker that’s blasting music. In a mumble, she adds, “Jesus, that’s loud.”

“Okay, grandma,” John B snickers, which results in Isla digging her elbow into his ribs while sipping the beer. “You looked a little ticked off at Kie.”

They walk into the house, weaving around party goers, his arm still around her shoulders in brotherly affection. Isla sighs, unsurprised that John B caught her expression or slight shift in demeanor. The guy is the Pogue-anointed leader of their group; he’s always had the ability to be in-tune with his friends. “You know her,” she says as they approach the kitchen. “She doesn’t mean anything by it, really, but she’ll make those subtle comments about me that almost make it seem like she’s judging me because some of my interests are different than hers.” With a roll of her eyes, she shoots him a look and adds, “Not Pogue enough, I guess.”

“Ah,” John B says with a sage nod of his head. “Whether she means anything by it or not, she loves you all the same, Isla. We all do,” he says with a smile, giving her arm a squeeze. “But if her comments bother you, just let her know. I doubt she’d ever want to hurt your feelings if she can help it.”

“You’re right,” she sighs again. He made the non-issue seem easily resolvable, which Isla’s sure it is. 

The kitchen counter is littered with snacks, a lot of which are opened already and have been dug through. There’s even a bag of marshmallows, and Isla pops one into her mouth as John B stands a few feet away, raising his eyebrows at her expectantly as he opens his mouth wide, silently signaling her. With a laugh as she chews the one in her mouth, Isla grabs another marshmallow and tosses it towards him, grinning widely when John B catches it in his mouth.

“Incredible,” she gushes exaggeratedly with a clap of her hands, John B taking a bow in response that only makes her laugh more. Turning to the several bags of chips on the counter, Isla asks him, “Which one should we steal for ourselves?”

John B hums thoughtfully, lifting his hat up to run his fingers through his hair before fitting the cap back down. “How about—”

“I was hoping to run into you here, Isla.” She freezes at the familiar voice, gaze flickering up to see Carlo standing on the other side of the counter, dark eyes fixed on her. Oh, fucking hell. “I wanted to—”

“Nope,” Isla cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head, lips pursing at the way he frowns at being interrupted. Screw him. “I have nothing to say to you, and I promise there’s nothing you can say that I’d wanna hear. So, no.”

Carlo’s forehead creases even more as his frown deepens. “Don’t you think you’re being childish?”

“Hey, buddy,” John B says from next to her, raising his eyebrows at Carlo. “She said she’s not interested. Take the hint and walk away.”

“Fuck off, Routledge, I wasn’t talking to you,” Carlo scowls and Isla’s stomach twists, dreading that getting him to leave her alone wouldn’t be easy. His eyes flicker back to Isla, and even the counter separating them isn’t creating enough distance. “Come on, Isla. We never got the chance to talk things out.”

She exchanges a look of disbelief with John B, who also looks pissed on her behalf as his narrow eyed stare goes back to Carlo. She half expects John B to walk around the counter and get physical with Carlo. “What the hell are you talking about?” she says to Carlo, exasperated. “What is there to talk about? You cheated. I broke up with you. End of story.”

Her pulse is quickening, wanting him gone, as John B crosses his arms and says to Carlo tightly, “Yeah. End of story. Now leave.”

Carlo’s jaw clenches. He’s around the same height as John B, their stare even as he glares. “This ain’t your damn house, John B.”

“No, but it is mine.”

Isla’s eyes widen, the air whooshing out of her lungs when she sees Rafe entering the kitchen. She’s pretty sure her pulse skitters when she sees the cold expression on Rafe’s features, his gaze on Carlo as he takes a few steps closer. No scowl, no glare, but a chilling look of indifference that contrasted to the hardness of his icy blue eyes. She can’t help but think this look on him is far more intimidating, in addition to how his six-foot-two height towers over Carlo, and even a little bit over John B—who tenses up next to her, like he doesn’t think Rafe’s arrival is a good thing.

When did Isla start thinking it is?

Because she finds herself relaxing upon Rafe’s entry, the tight knot loosening in her chest as he stands a few feet away from Carlo, who has the right mind to look a little frightened. It brings Isla more satisfaction than it should. 

Carlo finds his tongue. “I was just—”

“Leaving? Good choice,” Rafe cuts him off with a nod. When Carlo gapes at him, Rafe arches an eyebrow. He may look calm and collected, but Isla notices the muscle in his jaw jumping, like he’s grinding his teeth together. “She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you. Get the fuck out while your dignity is still intact.” He gives Carlo a slow once over, lips curling back into a sneer. “Whatever little of it there’s left.”

Isla claps her lips together, which had been parted in shock, in order to stifle back a gasping laugh. Her gaze darts to her left to John B, who is watching the whole interaction looking a helpless combination of bewildered, surprised, and wary. She can’t really blame him. Rafe Cameron, of all people, is coming to her defense, and while this isn’t the first time for Isla, it is for John B, and she can only imagine what’s going through his head right now. Probably a bit of the same of what was going through hers that first time.

Right now, though, she stands in the Cameron’s kitchen with her skin warming, watching as Carlo’s jaw works, looking as though he’s genuinely considering telling Rafe to fuck off or, worse, swing at him. She knows for a fact Carlo won’t win that fight. So when he looks at Isla, features tight and a contemptuous look hardening his eyes, she knows that he’s going to leave her alone for now.

He turns and stalks out of the kitchen, his departure making it easier for Isla to breathe as the tension eases out of her shoulders, which sink as she lets out a sigh of relief. Rafe finally turns to look at her, blue eyes meeting her brown, and she watches as the hardness in his gaze melts away, softening as he runs his eyes over like. Almost as if. . . He’s making sure she’s okay.

And then when he subtly arches an eyebrow, Isla knows he’s making sure. 

Heart fluttering erratically, Isla dips her chin in an almost imperceptible nod. Still, she finds herself saying, “Thank you for that.”

“Yeah, very decent of you.” Isla almost startles when John B speaks up, gaze snapping over to her friend. He’s watching Rafe with that same wary look, though there’s that familiar touch of patronization that her friends and Rafe always get when they’re talking to each other. Isla tenses up ever so slightly; she doesn’t think she can handle any sort of confrontation between them right now. Not when John B is her friend and Rafe has been so. . . Different with her. John B lifts his chin. “Very un-Kook-like.”

Rafe’s gaze slides over to John B and immediately his expression shifts, that smug smirk returning that’s always been so condescending. Isla knows she should only see it as that, and yet. . . She can’t help but find it attractive. Oh, God.

“It’s not like you were doing much to help,” Rafe says in return, arching an eyebrow.

John B scoffs while Isla takes a long sip of her beer. “I did the exact same thing as you did, which was just talk to him, by the way.”

Rafe cocks his head to the side, smug. “And who did he actually listen to?”

When Isla notes the narrowing of John B’s eyes, she steps in. “Alright, we’re not having a dick measuring contest, okay?” she says, cheeks flushing ever so slightly at the mere thought of Rafe’s dick. The heat only seems to intensify when his gaze touches her, something intense passing through his eyes in an instant. “Thank you both for your help. Let’s move on.”

She grabs the bag of barbecue flavored chips, grasping John B’s upper arm with her free hand to pull him out of the kitchen. He glares at Rafe until the second when Isla shoves him out of the kitchen, only pausing briefly enough to glance over her shoulder at Rafe. She doesn’t know why she does it until their gazes meet and she finds herself smiling as she mouths, thank you.

And then Isla sees his shoulders relax, the smirk turning into the smallest of smiles as he dips his chin in return, and the fluttering returns to her stomach once more.

“Well, that was fucking weird,” John B remarks as they walk through the back doors and step out into the backyard.

“A little,” Isla lies. She digs through the bag of chips and practically shoves a handful in  her mouth, hoping John B won’t linger on this topic of conversation.

Of course, that’s only wishful thinking, because the moment they arrive back where their friends are sitting, he announces, “Something weird just happened.”

Isla suppresses a sigh as she sits back down, back against the tree, while a chorus of “what?” sound from the others. As John B sits next to Sarah, he informs them, “Well, first, fucking Carlo was here.”

“Who the fuck invited that piece of shit?” JJ asks while Kie looks over at Isla. Whatever annoyance from before disappears as her sister silently, with her eyes, asks if Isla is okay. She just nods in response, giving a small smile.

“Don’t look at me,” Sarah says with a shake of her head, hands raising in defense. “He probably tagged along with someone.”

“Is he still here?” Pope asks, dark eyes darting around the yard, seeking out Isla’s ex.

“No, he left,” John B answers. “Which brings me to the actual weird thing.” Isla holds her breath as he briefly meets Sarah’s gaze before telling the group, “Rafe was the one who kicked Carlo out.”

“Rafe?” Cleo repeats, eyebrows shooting up. “Rafe Cameron?”

JJ shoots her a droll look. “How many Rafes do you know?” he asks, earning the middle finger from Cleo. “You’re telling me King Kook stepped in and helped you?” he adds, glancing at Isla in surprise.

Sarah tilts her head. “I thought my dad was King Kook?” she murmurs, almost to herself, unperturbed by the label. She shakes her head before saying, louder, “You guys, my brother isn’t some villain. He has his moments.”

“As rare as they might be,” Kie adds on with a pointed arch of her eyebrow as her gaze flicks back to Isla.

Their eyes meet and Isla tenses because she can see the clear question in her sister’s eyes, and can see where her thoughts wandered. And right now, Kie is thinking of when Isla had told her how Rafe had helped her out when her car broke down, which the rest of their friends still don’t know about. Adding what just happened now, her friends would have questions, suspicions, and Isla couldn’t honestly refute any of them because of her own changing opinion of Rafe. She couldn’t truthfully tell them it wasn’t a big deal, that it was just a one time thing—because neither of those things were true. At least, not for Isla.

So Isla gives a minute shake of her head, needing Kie to understand what she’s silently telling her. Kiara raises an eyebrow and Isla knows that though Kie remains silent, they will definitely be talking about this later. Isla isn’t looking forward to it.

*****

“So. Spill.”

Isla exhales sharply through her nose, bending down to spit out the toothpaste-tinted water in the sink. As she dries her face, she looks at Kie, who is leaning against the bathroom door frame, arms crossed. Trying not to be too rattled, Isla says nonchalantly, “There’s nothing to spill.”

“Fuck off,” Kie laughs, shaking her head. “You told me he gave you a ride the other week when your car broke down, and tonight he kicked out your ex? Those are nice things,” she emphasizes with a raise of her eyebrows. “And Rafe’s not that nice of a guy.”

Isla shrugs as she rubs and pats moisturizer on her face. “I don’t have an insight into his head, Kie,” she says with a slight chuckle, wanting to brush this conversation off. “I don’t know what he’s thinking. But—” She decides to be honest, meeting her sister’s gaze. “I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, you know? He helped me both times when he didn’t have to, and I appreciate it. That’s all.”

Kie twists her lips to the side, not entirely looking convinced. “It’s still sus,” she says. “Like, at least tonight. Why step in at all? John B was there, it’s not like you were dealing with Carlo on your own.”

As Isla rubs lotion up and down her arms, gaze on the movement of her hands, a ghost of a smile tugs at her lips as she remarks, “Maybe it was his good deed of the month.”

“What?” Kie asks, puzzled.

Isla resists the urge to swallow, and instead chuckles. “Nothing.” She shoots her sister a smile. “Anyway, it’s whatever,” she says, moving past Kie to get out of the bathroom. “Who knows why Rafe does anything?”

Kie snorts, moving into the bathroom for her turn to get ready for the night. It’s a little after two in the morning, their parents fast asleep, and at this point, neither of them are too drunk. Isla hadn’t drank anything after the beer JJ had handed to her, and Kie knows her limits when it comes to drinking. “I guess so,” she muses, tying her hair up into a messy bun.

Isla goes to her own room, shutting the door behind her before climbing into bed, sighing as she slips under the cool sheets. The main room lights are off, but she keeps the colorful LED lights hanging in front of her curtains on, bathing her room in dim colors as she unlocks her phone.

The first thing she does is go on Instagram, scrolling through her notifications to see people liking and commenting on her posts and stories from the party tonight. But her thumb freezes when she notices the top notification, which came in just three minutes ago.

Rafe.Cameron1104 is now following you!

Her eyes widen, the breath stilling in her lungs, even as she tells herself this isn’t a big fucking deal. Because it’s not. Yet, she still clicks on his profile, and before she decides whether or not to follow him back—because she is damn sure her friends will notice—she does a little stalking, feeling heat pool into her cheeks as she does, like she’s doing something wrong.

Still, Isla can’t help but scroll through Rafe’s profile. He doesn’t post that much, but his posts are mostly what she expects them to be; on his family’s yacht, with his friends, some with his family. No selfies, which doesn’t surprise her, but Isla does find herself looking at the solo shots of him, biting the inside of her cheek when she stares a little too long at the shirtless photos that makes her blood heat up in her veins. He’s fit, which is known, with broad shoulders and lean muscles, his torso tight with prominent abs glinting against the sunlight. Enough to make her mouth grow dry.

God, what’s wrong with her?

Why did he follow her? More importantly, why is she freaking out like she’s a middle schooler with a crush? Despite her warring thoughts, Isla scrolls to the top of his profile, thumb hovering over the blue follow button. A bunch of people she knows follow him, though none are her friends—except for Sarah, of course. Isla hesitates before letting out a quiet huff, hoping her friends don’t weirdly check Instagram followings, and presses the follow button before exiting out of the app, locking her phone, and dropping it on her stomach, all in the matter of five seconds. 

She stares, wide eyed, at the ceiling while trying to slow down her foolishly racing pulse, chest rising and falling with every breath she takes. “What the fuck, Isla?” she whispers to herself in the dim lighting of her room, looking at the kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off the ceiling thanks to the LED lights. 

He’s literally just a guy. A guy that, admittedly, her friends don’t like and she shouldn’t, either. Too often have JJ, John B, and Pope gotten into fights, both verbal and physical, with Rafe and his friends. Granted, her friends sometimes instigate the fights just as much as Rafe and his friends do, but the animosity has existed for years now. Which should be reason enough why Isla shouldn’t be engaging with Rafe anymore than she already has. Hell, smoking with him in his room tonight could be considered crossing a line, where her friends are concerned. 

It feels like she’s playing a dangerous game—one where she has no idea what the rules even are.

Her phone suddenly buzzes and Isla’s throat dries as she lifts it, squinting against the bright screen. When she reads the notification, her stomach does a somersault, reading the message Rafe sent her on Instagram. God, why is he awake? Embarrassment floods her cheeks, knowing he received the notification of her follow back right away. Part of her wants to pretend she never got the notification of his message and just go to sleep, but intrigue wins out, and she opens Instagram and goes on her direct messages.

She rolls her lower lip into her mouth, reading those three words with a flutter in her belly, thumbs hovering over the keypad until she figures out how to respond.

Isla takes a deep breath, reading Rafe’s last message a few too many times before exiting out of the app, finding it a good place to let the conversation naturally end. The last thing she needs to keep doing is messaging Rafe Cameron in the middle of the night. So she plugs her phone into the charger and rests it on her bedside, turning away and burrowing herself deeper into her cocoon of blankets, needing sleep to take her away from the turbulent thoughts that surround Rafe.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kiss of death

words: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, alternative universe, soulmates, grim reaper!rafe, talk of death, superstitions, reader kind of dies (its explained in the fic)

you swallow deeply as you step into the graveyard. the darkness is creeping into every corner, but you know it's not midnight, not yet.

you feel a pang of guilt as you walk through the rows of graves, briefly glancing at the names to distract your focus from the anxiety filling your chest.

it's an old superstition, but you're beyond desperate.

you stop at the hole in the ground and the temporary headstone, ready for burial tomorrow.

“sorry mr. crawford.” you whisper. you barely knew him, the town psychologist currently kept in the morgue. you could probably use him right now as you move carefully to your knees.

you recite the words from the local town lure, the promise of your true love showing up to kiss you awake at sunrise if you laid in the grave at exactly midnight.

all your other friends have found love, love that is so pure and beautiful it makes your chest ache with jealousy and wanting.

you look at your watch and let out a sigh. five minutes of looking into the grave until the hands of the clock point straight up, five minutes to change and regret your decision.

the minutes tick by but your resolve only grows. you're beyond desperate and the worst thing that could come of it is you spend the night sleeping in a hole under the stars.

you climb down the second the minute hand crawls to the 12 and lay back in the grave, blinking upwards towards the starless night sky, the bright sunlight reflecting off the moon blocking out any other suns.

you close your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that you're exposed to worms and bugs and whatever else happens to be lurking in the graveyard at night. certainly nothing you want to come across.

soulmate. your soulmate. your one true love is worth one night in a grave as you fall into a deep slumber.

--

you can feel the light against your eyelids, but before you can open them, it's blocked out by a shadow.

you gasp as lips are pressed against yours, cold but soft lips. you want to open your eyes but they feel so heavy as you kiss back, hands reaching upwards but you feel nothing, just pressing into the freezing cold air despite it being the middle of summer.

you finally force your eyelids open and you realize who you have been kissing as he pulls away, more of a black figure then a true human form.

“no.” your voice quivers. “no!” 

“did you not want your one true love to wake you with a kiss?” he smirks down at you, hovering directly over your body.

“my-my true love is not death.” you thought it was just another superstition, the grim reaper, the one to facilitate your crossing to the other side, but when looking up you know that the mans face that looks back down upon you is nothing but pure and utter death.

“then tell me why i was called to this spot only to find you laying here.” his voice is smooth but deep in tone, not what you expected from the grim reaper as you almost find comfort in his soft words.

“this can't be right.” you look around you, realizing that all light from the rising sun has disappeared, along with the walls of dirt around you, replaced with darkness so thick it's like you could reach out and touch it. “am i?”

you can't make the word out fully. “kind of.” the reaper shrugs. 

reality shifts and despite you not changing positions, you can tell in the inky blackness that you're now on your feet.

“come with me.” the grim reapers legs push out from the black mass, appearing and disappearing as he begins to walk, somehow able to find his way, walking with the purpose of a destination that is unseen to you.

“what if i don't want to?” you question, even though your heart is pulling you towards him, telling you to follow and stay close.

“i will give you this option only once.” the reaper turns to you. “you can turn around and walk away, or you may follow me and be with your one true love and rule the underworld as my queen.”

you know your back should be towards the reaper as you begin to walk, but you can't go back to your earthly reality after discovering the grim reaper is just waiting for you to die, for you to take your place.

as you walk alongside the grim reaper, you begin to make out shapes moving through the darkness.

the first one scared you so bad as you whipped your head to the side, trying to make out what appeared to be someone walking the opposite direction.

“what is this place?” you ask, voice quiet, feeling as though you don't want to interrupt the figures pushing through the dark.

“the place between life and death. the farther we walk, the closer we are to death and my-our kingdom.”

“and the people walking the other way?” you turn to look over your shoulder as your feet continue forward.

“some have been revived. by doctors or desperate loved ones. but most made a choice. most got to the final step and realized it wasn't there time.”

“and is it my time?”

“you will not truly be dead.” he states, and you find yourself swaying to walk closer to him, his cold presence comforting as the only thing around you can truly make out. “i will keep you in the state that you are now for as long as you please. you will be in limbo, in status. your earthly body will still be yours.”

“so no one will know what happened to me?” you can tell that your body isn't left in the grave, that you're whole and complete right here, soul included.

“no.” he sounds almost regretful as the blackness ahead of you turns into a swirl of dark grey, making out the rolling hills as you get closer.

“your final choice.” the reaper says, and you don't mention that he already gave you what he claimed to be your final choice before you began walking.

it hits you then. the reaper is in just as new of a position as you are in, and your nerves don't outweigh him.

“what is your choice?” you parrot the question back. “do you want me… to rule with you?”

“i have waited an eternity for you. so long that the memory of how i came to be the reaper is no longer available to me.” the grim reaper pauses for a moment before continuing. “yes. i want you alongside me always.”

you nod and then take a step past what you can tell is the final film, the one separating you from whatever rolling hills of gray grass await.

a weight you didn't realize you were carrying leaves you as the grim reaper steps out next to you, the black mass of his body gone as he appears as a fully realized man, legs and all.

you don't mean to, but you reach out and touch him, seeing if your arms would move through him as they did before during your kiss, but your fingers just press against the soft fabric of his black long sleeved shirt.

“welcome to the underworld.” he says, taking your hand in his and pulling you to continue walking.

you can make out a castle in the distance, and the closer you walk towards it, the warmer the hand in yours gets and the less gray seems to be blotting out the world as the grass turns green beneath your feet.

you gasp the first time you see one, stepping closer to the reaper.

“they won't hurt you.” he clarifies quickly as the large wolf runs past you in the distance, several hills away.

“you control them?” you question.

“yes.” he nods. “and all the wolves on earth as well. they are part of my domain.”

“i thought it was going to be a three headed dog.” you whisper slightly sheepishly as you realize your hand has been intertwined with the grim reaper the entire walk, feeling so natural that you don't question the fingers snug between yours.

“everyone got something partially right.” he says. “the egyptians, the greeks, the christians. they all had pieces.”

“oh.” you don't care to question more, not yet. you're already overloaded with all the information.

you pause as you get to the door of the castle. it's not dead quite like you expected, you can hear voices chattering inside and when you look up you can occasionally see people passing by windows.

“people do what suits them best after death. what would make them most happy. for most, that's reincarnation. for some, that's helping others cross or serving me in other ways. everyone inside this home is dead.”

you like that he calls it a home and a slight smile stretches across your cheeks.

“do not ask them how they died or their life on earth. if they wish to reveal it to you, it will be on their own time.”

“okay.” you nod, looking to the grim reaper, your soulmate. “what should i call you?”

you certainly can't continue to call him the grim reaper, it would just be an upsetting reminder.

“rafe.” he smiles down at you, not the terrifying soulless being you thought he would be. “you may call me rafe.”

--

the tour of the expansive home is long, but you find yourself only half listening as you look at rafe.

his appearance is so different from when you saw him first, he looks less harsh, kinder, more alive.

“are you tired?” he asks as he pushes the doors open to what you assume is the master bedroom. “i know you just awoke but if you need to rest-”

“how does time work here?”

“there's night and day just as there is on earth. it's still morning.” he places a gentle hand on your back, pushing gently to get you to enter the room.

“this is our chamber.” he explains. “you may rest, or bathe, or eat.”

“i…” you look down at your clothes, dirt still covering your pants. “id like to change.”

a maid ushers in, and you try to see if you can get any visual clue that she's passed, but theres nothing as she opens up a cabinet and begins to grab out various jewel toned options.

“i must attend to some business.” rafe says. “ill be back soon.”

you get changed and dismiss the maid, wondering what kind of person chooses to serve like this for all of eternity and actually enjoy it, but you're too distracted with exploring your surroundings to think too hard about it.

you find a sitting room with walls covered in bookshelves, the grand bathroom, and a door that leads to a balcony.

you step out and look over the rolling hills, seeing as they turn to gray the farther away it is from the castle, seemingly encircled completely by the void.

you occasionally see a wolf running, or a figure floating, but you can tell none of them are your reaper. that must be the other helpers he was talking about. despite not being able to see their faces, you know it's not him.

you take a seat on the lush couch on the balcony. they must not have true weather here or it would certainly be ruined by the rain.

before you notice it, now dressed in clean clothes similar to rafes, your eyes are closing and you're falling into a deep sleep.

--

you yawn as you wake up, stretching as you realize you'd been moved to the bed at some point.

you sit up suddenly only to come face to face with rafe who is sitting in an armchair moved from the sitting room to the foot of the bed.

“did you move me?”

“yes.” he nods as you blink, looking outside, unable to tell how long you've been asleep. like he's reading your mind, rafe speaks. “it's the next morning. you were exhausted from the journey.”

“did you sleep in the bed with me?”

“i do not need sleep.” rafe answers, jolting you slightly before you remember who you are here with.

“then why have this bed?”

rafe gives you a pointed look as you replay his words in your head. of course it's for you. he's been waiting.

“come.” rafe stands, imposing his tall height again.

you slide out of bed, only then realizing that your clothes have been changed.

“a maid changed you.” he says quickly. “i will escort you to breakfast and as you eat i will finish my work for the day. then we can…”

he trails off like he doesn't know what the options are. “get to know each other.” you offer. “since you're my one true love i suppose we should… go on a date?”

a smile stretches across the reapers face. “yes. a date.”

--

“what is it you'd like to know?” rafe asks as you're sat in the front of the boat, moving slowly down a river that winds through the hills.

it scared you at first, but rafe certainly wouldn't be taking you anywhere where you couldn't come back.

“uh…” there's a million questions you have about life and death, about heaven and hell, but that's not what you truly want to know. “what's your favorite color? do you have to eat? can you sleep even if you don't have to?”

“well…” rafe chuckles. “i love deep blue. i don't have to eat but i can, same with sleeping. and your favorite color?”

“also blue.” you swallow deeply, eyes turning upward as the invisible force keeps the boat moving steadily in the water. “but sky blue. like on a warm summer day.” 

you're about to wonder if you'll ever truly see the sky again when you can make out a cloud in the distance.

“i-”

“for you.” rafe says as the color of the sky shifts, matching the exact shade you were thinking of. “everything here can be changed for you.”

the conversation flows naturally, you suppose it should between soulmates. every time rafe smiles, you get butterflies in your stomach, and by the time you're back where the river meets the castle, you have a question brewing on the tip of your tongue.

“can we… can we kiss again?” you need to know what it feels like, if it's the same cold lips despite his hands now feeling warm.

the smile comes back to rafes face, and then it gets closer and closer until he's kissing you, deeply.

you almost instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders, able to fully touch him now as he kisses you, warm lips gliding against each other's.

you pull yourself closer until you can't get any nearer without climbing onto his lap, which you do next as you cling to him.

you thought your friends talking about the instant connection with their one true love was ridiculous, but you know what is between you and rafe is complete and real and right.

there's a woosh of air and when you pull away, you're still straddling rafe, but now in your bedroom.

“please.” he said softly, and the word comes out a little strange, like he's not used to saying it. “i need you.”

your fingers grasp the bottom of your shirt before you lift and pull it off your body, revealing the bra somehow already in your size that the maid got out after breakfast.

rafes hands stop yours when you go to unclasp it. “let me.” he says.

his hands are large and warm as they undo your bra and push the straps off your shoulders so it falls between the two of you.

“can i-”

“yes.” you answer quickly. “do anything you want to me.”

you take rafes cheeks in your hands as you look in his deep blue eyes. “do everything.”

your reaper transports you again, this time only feet as you're laid on your back, head rested against the pillows as he hovers over top of you.

your clothes as well as rafes are completely gone, and you're both silent, breathing heavily as you admire each other's bodies. if someone would have asked you what your perfect mate looks like, you'd absolutely describe rafe in this state.

“i will spend eternity pleasuring you, but you'll have to forgive me for not being able to wait a moment longer.” 

rafes cock lines up with your entrance, and then he's pushing inside, his eyes shutting as he lets out a moan that makes you surge forward to kiss his lips and swallow the sound as his hips glide all the way in, fitting exactly inside of you like he's been your missing part all along.

“you're so- warm.” rafe manages to choke out. “ive never felt warmth like this.”

it makes you sad to think rafe spent so long as the cold and lonely reaper. you pull him into you, pressing your chests together as his hips begin to move, your moans growing and becoming in sync, creating a beautiful chorus even to your own ears.

you don't know what your future will hold. there will no doubt be ups and downs, hard times and great times, but you will face it all together with your reaper, your rafe.

[acryingpisces]

ARMS OF COMFORT

PAIRING: john b x gf!reader

WARNINGS: anxiety attack, cursing, making out, mostly fluff

»»———–➤

You hated this feeling. When the anxious thoughts kick in and the room starts to spin. You’d do anything to silence the negative voices in your head. You want nothing more than to keep your head above water and prevent yourself from going to that all too familiar, dark place in the corner of your mind.

John B had never seen you like this. In the 4 months you’d been dating you had managed to keep up the ‘miss perfect’ act. As far as he was concerned, you were his dream girlfriend. He had no clue what a mess you could be. Were you willing to drop the mask? To show him another side of you?

It seemed too vulnerable to let John B know what you were going through. You rolled over in bed, facing away from him, using a pillow to muffle your cries. You silently sobbed into it while your unaware boyfriend snored softly next to you.

After a good 3 minutes of crying, the sound of a whisper made you freeze in place and immediately stop your tears.

“Baby?”

Fuck. You were caught. He had heard you. Your heart began to race at the thought of turning to face John B with a tear soaked face. How would you explain it?

“Are y- are you crying? Y/n, look at me.”

Fear had turned you to stone, and you found it impossible to move despite your boyfriend’s request.

John B placed a gentle hand on your back, nudging you to turn around. Somehow you worked up the courage to actually face him. You rolled over. Immediately you noticed an expression of intense worry on his face as he took notice of your red and puffy eyes.

“No, no, no- baby come here. What happened? Hey, you’re alright okay? I’ve got you.”

He wrapped you in his strong arms and laid your head on his bare chest. You could hear the beat of his heart. His woodsy masculine scent, the warmth of his body heat, and his sweet words provided you with a sense of calm. As he rocked you back and forth you felt your anxiety slowly wash away.

“Deep breaths y/n. Breathe in and out with me. Can you do that?”

You matched the pace of his breathing.

“Good job, you’re doing so good for me y/n.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you managed to choke out through your tears.

“Shhh don’t say that,” he shushed you. “Don’t ever be afraid or feel like you have to hide from me. I’m here for you,” John B cooed.

He could tell you weren’t in the right state of mind to do much talking. “You don’t have to say anything. We can talk about what’s going on later. For now just let me hold you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Overwhelmed with emotion and adoration for your boyfriend you found yourself pressing your lips to his. It turned from a soft kiss to a passionate one pretty quickly. Your hands gripped his hair as he began sucking on your bottom lip. Your tongues danced together as you softly moaned into his mouth. When you finally pulled away to catch your breath you found yourself staring deep into his eyes. You had never told him you loved him before, but now felt like the right moment.

“I love you, John B.”

“I love you more, y/n. God, I love you so much. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He had seen you at your worst and he still loved you. There was no more reason to be afraid. You finally felt as though you could relax. He later went to the kitchen to bring you your favorite snacks and you spent the rest of the night holding each other close as possible, watching movies on the television. You fell asleep to the sound of the TV and the rise and fall of your boyfriend’s chest as he breathed.

[janicekao]

Kookville

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x stepsis reader(dark smut) Summary: Rafe Cameron and his step sister secretly have been hooking up and he is extremely possessive over her. She's a plus size black goddess and he wants her all to himself, although they often quarrel and bicker, she is his and only his. (reader may use Y/N or choose any name of your liking for the fem character)

Warnings: stepcest, dark romance, smut, hate s3x, rough s3x, cr3ampie, violence, br33ding kink, possessive, d0m&femsub, dub!con, etc.

3890 words

Wattpad link:

Enjoy my babies <3 -------------------------------------

The house quiets down just the way that you like it. Each of your family members have their own plans as they do everyday in the beautiful OBX.

You enjoy the beach, but what you enjoy the most is the new mansion you and your mom just moved into when it's nice and empty.

It's only been you and your mother for as long as you have known it, but just last year, she married the millionaire real estate developer, Ward Cameron.

Not only did you have to get used to having a stepfather, but now you have three step-siblings. Two sisters, Sarah and Wheezie Cameron, and a brother, Rafe Cameron.

You enjoy Sarah and Wheezie's company. Sarah is a year or two younger than you, but she's really down to Earth. Wheezie is the baby, she's much younger than the entire house and seriously looks up to her big sister Sarah.

The girls are nothing like Rafe and Ward...

Rafe and Ward are two of the same kind. Arrogant, selfish, spoiled, and most of all pure evil. Labeling themselves as "Kooks" they believe that they are better than the lower class people on this island who are known as the "Pogues."

You're not sure what your mother saw in Ward Cameron, but you have no right to say anything being that for the last few months, you've been fucking Rafe behind everyone's back.

Started as a drunken mistake, now it has become a necessity to you both.

He needs you so badly, that if he weren't as stuck up as he is, he'd worship the ground you walk on... But then again, maybe he wouldn't with the amount of hate you both have for each other.

You see him as a cruel, rich, arrogant, asshole... And he sees you as a boring, loser, with a bad attitude. So why put up with each other?

Because the sex is fucking incredible.

Incredible to the point that he spoils you with skimpy lingerie and has put you on a birth control regiment.

Each time you do it, you promise yourself it's the last... Hating the fact that you and Rafe were supposed to become family, and now embarrassing enough, you two can't stop boning.

Maybe it is a kink that you both share together... An exhilarating fear of getting caught and the excitement of doing something so extremely wrong...

Whatever it is, you just can't stop.

—————

Lounging in a pair of black shorts, you enjoy the quaintness of your room as you flip through a magazine on the bed.

Sarah and Wheezie are out for ice cream, Mom and Ward are out shopping and spending alone time together, and Rafe is out on the town being devious as always... so you thought.

Bursting through your bedroom door, Rafe comes inside as he searches your purse for money...

You sigh, here we go again.

"What is it this time?" You continue to read as you ask in sarcasm. "For coke, or molly?"

"Shut up, y/n." He takes the only money you have, quickly storing it in the pockets of his pants. "It's my Dad's money anyways. If you need more, just go ask your slutty mother."

"What did you just say?" Hearing the insult about your mother makes your blood boil.

You leave your bed to quickly check him, however he only finds your short and innocently chubby stature amusing. You're far from threatening, voice too sweet to strike fear into anybody.

Staring down at you he chuckles deviously. "You heard me right. Every single night, they keep me up as she loudly fucks my dad out of all of his money."

Rafe caresses your full bottom lip as he gently pulls it down. "Like mother, like daughter, huh?"

You slap Rafe clean across his face.

He takes it like it's nothing.

A low toned growl heats his throat. "Do it again."

You do.

Face hot and red from the second slap, he absolutely loves it.

Rafe tightens his grip around your wrists pulling you up against him. His face should be stinging with pain but instead you feel his hardened cock poke against your bellybutton.

"When was the last time we—"

"Fuck off." You immediately interrupt his lewd intentions as you find yourself back onto your bed and reading your magazine.

Rafe gently lays next to you. He's quiet, too quiet as his intense blue eyes watch you.

Rolling your eyes you immediately turn your back on him. You try and hide the fact that his cologne from after his fresh shower has you almost dizzy with arousal, but he knows.

He watches the goosebumps fill the skin of your arms and begins to smirk.

"What is it this time?" He gently taunts. "Was it my presence? Maybe lying beside you? Or was it the cologne?"

Rafe chuckles as he watches your body tense up. "My cologne. It's always my smell isn't it, y/n?"

"I'm in a rush." He snaps.

Rafe pulls the tiny shorts off of your hips and down your legs before he tosses them to the floor. "I have places to be, not time to waste here with you. Lay on your back."

"You came in here to bother me, remember?" You play hard to get as you bark, knowing that your panties are soaked for him. "Go fuck yourself Rafe."

"Yeah?" He questions. "Well I can do that too."

As you ignore him, you hear his khakis suddenly unzip and the sounds of lewd fapping.

You peel your eyes from the magazine and notice Rafe stroking himself at the sight of you in your underwear and T-shirt.

His mouth hangs agape as he whispers your name. You continue to peek and your mouth begins to water for his handsomely long cock.

His large hand seems to swallow yours up as he takes your attention from your magazine and places your digits over his shaft for you to continue the hand job.

You sigh. "Rafe, what do you want from me?"

"You know what I want." He groans lightly. "I'm going to give you this cock and then I have to go and meet up with Barry."

Rolling your eyes at the thought of Rafe's friend Barry, you know for sure that the money he stole from you is to party. Barry is the worst company to keep... OBX's drug dealer.

Taking your hand away from him as he nears his cum immediately aggravates him.

Rafe takes your magazine and throws it out of your bedroom's opened window, vexed from the aching blue balls you've now given him.

"I was reading that!?" You whine as you watch the pages of your favorite magazine soar through the wind and out of your window.

Rafe puts himself away as he scoffs and begins to leave your room. "You're just a fucking tease."

You hate being called a tease.

You aren't a tease, you two just... hate each other.

Sitting up from your comfortable position, you begin to demand an exchange. "What's in it for me?"

Rafe hardly hears you as he becomes nearly hypnotized by the way your thighs expand as you sit on the edge of the bed.

"Rafe!?" You complain.

"Whatever you want." He can't pull his eyes from you as he licks the drool from his lips in temptation.

You begin to ponder over what it could be that you want in return... You are having a bit of trouble making friends in this new state, maybe getting out more could help. As much as Rafe parties, you are sure that tagging along will help you meet new people.

"Let me come with you to the beach party this Friday!" You finally decide.

"The beach party?" He frowns. "No fucking way. I know you too well, y/n. You'll do something stupid like wear that black string bikini I bought you... That's only for me to see."

You laugh. "Rafe, I'm fully grown, you forget that you're my stepbrother... not my dad."

He gags. "Trust me, I remember quite well."

You reach to aggravate him further. "You're just afraid you'll see me flirting, having fun, and ready to fuck someone else, huh?"

His sarcastic grin fades until his eyes darken. He hates when you push him there, and somehow you're the only one who knows how to do it.

"Do you remember the last time you tried to make me jealous?" Rafe begins to threat.

You reminisce on the red and blue lights that approached the fist fight that nearly knocked you to the ground as you tried to step in between Rafe and your potential one night stand. The evening at a local bar that you wished you never had visited... The evening when you realized how possessive Rafe was truly over you.

You gulp, "I try not to actually."

"Good." He fumes. "Now take off your panties, you're wasting my time."

Tempted to watch the spoiled rich boy plead for something that only you have control over, you begin to toy with his patience.

"Hmm?" You taunt. "Beg for it."

"What? Beg? You?" He laughs in a way that most would see as him bullying you.. Laughter that seems like you're not shit to him, but you know that you are. Your confidence has always been your most powerful trait, also what drives Rafe mad the most. "I can get pussy somewhere else."

He gulps as your cold siren eyes wait for his childish laughter to end. "So do it."

Rafe's jaw clinches. He's terribly angry that the only sex that he actually wants, is yours.

His skin begins to redden as you break the arrogant spirit of the powerful six-foot-two-inch man of pure muscle. "Please, y/n?"

You ignore him... it inflames him.

"You fucking want it too!" He scoffs. "Stop playing so hard to get!"

"So what? I also want a million dollars Rafe." You argue. "I want to hear you beg or you're not getting a fucking thing."

You gently part your plush thighs apart to drive him a bit more crazy... It's nearly comical the way you can melt him. Far from his usual type, however you have just what he needs.

"Yeah, fine. Whatever, fuck you— fine." He struggles with his thoughts and words, wanting you so bad that he nearly stutters words of hatred. It's hilarious.

Eyes of hunger, he finally submits to you. Rafe sits at the edge of your bed, tossing you into his lap as if you were weightless.

He wants you to feel his heated gaze as he does what you ask him to do. He begins to beg for you.

"Y/n, please let me eat your pussy and fuck you until your flesh is raw and you finally shut the fuck up." His erection prodding against you out of his tight khakis nearly takes your breath away.

"Nicer." You whisper quietly.

....

His voice shudders. "Please baby.." Rafe is finally the begging puppy that he deserves to be brought down to. "Let me fuck you so good."

A smirk creeps across your face. "Baby?" You coo. "You must really want it, seeing that you've already gone to pet names."

"Shut up."His kiss takes your breath away, thirsty for your essence, Rafe chokes you with his tongue.

He strips you out of your clothes, letting your T-shirt and panties hit the floor as he stands over your completely bare body.

The way he watches makes you redden with shame. You're nude and he's fully dressed as you become more vulnerable by the second.

"At least undress Rafe!" You frown as you go to stand.

Your breath is sharply taken from you as he pushes you roughly back onto the bed. "Shut up, let me look at you." He demands.

Your goosebumps are back and at full force.

"Oh god.." You become embarrassed as the glistening waterfall between your legs begins to reveal your arousal. Tightening your knees together was a bad move... All Rafe does is pry them apart to watch the slickness even closer.

Enticed and licking his lips, his shirt finally comes off. He enjoys watching the gripped indents around your thighs, so soft and malleable like two pillows as he pulls you further down to the edge of the bed.

Rafe doesn't hesitate any longer. His mouth begins to swallow you up causing you to gasp from how sensitive you are down there.

Your back begins to arch as he devours your pussy and the flicking of his tongue on your clit makes you squeal uncomfortably.

You can't take it.

Your hand presses against his head, fingers through his buzzcut as you shove him away.

Rafe growls. Eyes of pure evil watch up at you as he pins your wrists to the bed. He doesn't stop.Slurping, nibbling, and tongue fucking you as he wants badly to see you cry from his pleasurable torture.

Adding his long digits into your tight cunt, Rafe curls a singular finger at your g-spot.

"Fuck! Rafe please—" Your begging is pathetic.

"Shhh." He coos gently. "You can take it, I need to work you open for me a bit."

You hate how at times he can be almost gentle and romantic... It gets to be so confusing, and in this case, it doesn't help the orgasm tightening in the midst of your stomach.

His indecent finger-fucking has your brain a puddle of dumb mush, not being able to take the precious tongue flicks and kisses on your clit along with the rough thrusts inside of you A second long and strong finger takes you to the moon. Pussy too full of his tanned digits and melting down his wrists, you sinfully cum and lay tiredly into the mattress.

He comes up for air, panting lightly as the alluring muscles in his chest writhes with each breath.

His smile melts you, wet and devious as he presses his lips to yours. "Taste that?" He taunts breathlessly, "Pussy too good for someone so fucking annoying."

Stripping out of his pants, you watch Rafe's weighty erection near his bellybutton as it stands at attention.

He strokes himself softly, making his skin slick with the drop of wet precum that's already beaded out of his needy tip. "Turn around."

He tosses you onto your stomach without much of a warning. You still can hardly think for yourself since your last cum, so Rafe does the thinking for you.

Putting you onto your knees, he arches your back and smooths his fingers through your curls as he presses your face into the mattress for the coming back-shots.

Sliding through your slickness a few times, he lubes himself enough to fuck into you. The tip of his cock plunges through your already sensitive cunt, forcing you to take a gasp of air as you fist the sheets under you.

You hear a gulp that chokes his throat as Rafe continues to push his cock forward. "Fuck, you feel so good baby."

Clinching your eyes shut, you feel his swollen bulbous tip kiss at your cervix. It makes your body shudder. He's so far deep in you, you almost feel sick.

His balls slap against your cunt as he bottoms out into you. Your pussy feels so tight around him that you're sure you can feel his every vein probing out of his hardened flesh.

Rafe follows his own speed, paying most of his attention towards his needy want to reach his own finish. Fucking power drives into you because he knows that you can take it.

His groans are music to your ears, but you can hardly hear them over your own weeping and curses.

"Stay just like that, y/n." He nearly pleads. "You're so tight for me baby, whose pussy is this?"

Although clearly fucked to a pulp and pussy clearly belonging to him, you'd rather die than to let him know it. Eyes half-lidded and drooling onto your sheets, you refuse to let him have it.

"Mine." You pant.

Rafe laughs, plummeting his broad thumb into your tight asshole. "You're so fucking hardheaded, that's okay, you'll learn."

"Rafe! St-Stop!" Your fist tighten the sheets further until your knuckles turn white.

"Next time it'll be my cock.." He threatens you to behave as he forces his thumb in deeper and suddenly snatches it out. "Keep playing with me."

Your body lewdy continues to slap against his. Rafe is so obsessed with it, loving your extremely thick figure and knowing just how to handle it.

He slaps your ass. "Fuck me back."

You do. You throw your ass back in away that has Rafe biting at his lip, trying to hold back from cumming his load too soon.

His strong fingertips seep into the plushed flesh of your waist as he hammers his last strokes into you. Chain dangling against your skin with each thrust.

He groans, deeply growling out his words as he tries to help his own anticipation. "The other day when you babysat for our neighbors, I watched you bounce that baby on your hip and all I could think of was breeding you. Wanting so badly to take the pills from you and pump you with my seed."

"M-fuckkk." You mewl, pussy numb, obliterated, and needing a break.

Rafe chuckles. "The family knows how reckless I am, but what will Mommy and Daddy think of their precious-America's Sweetheart daughter when they find out she's a slut who fucks her stepbrother? A dumb slut who loves her stepbrother's cum so much that she let him fill her until she grew his baby?"

He snatches a handful of your hair, making you yelp and drop tears as he continues to tear you apart. "You deserve the hate that I get it..." His jealousy has his jaws tightened, and gritting his words. "They should know you aren't as innocent as you act."

Rafe harshly slaps your ass, you can feel the handprint swelling into a stinging welt on your flesh.

You can't help but to moan. The sex is so good but the embarrassment of loving it causes you to cry.

"Fuck you." You manage to speak through your wet lips and trembling breaths..

"Anytime you want, sis." His laugh is pure mockery.

"Fuck."Rafe fawns over your body, his hand reaches beneath you, cupping your large breasts and slowly choking your air away.

With a grip on your chin he forces your head around to watch his final act.

Deviously impaling your insides as he sputters his hot cum inside of you. "You're so pretty with a cock in you.Stop acting like we're going to stop, you know that we never will."

"Mmm."His muscles tighten as his many inches still inside of you, jolting as he spills his milky seed. "Tell me how much you love to be fucked by me..."

You feel shame as the hot nut causes you a second climax. Biting the sheets, you can't answer anything as your eyes cross and roll to the back of your skull.

"I swear to god, y/n, answer me." Rafe impales you further making your tummy ache and your cunt nearly tear against him.

"I love it." You weep a final act of submission. "I love to be fucked by you Rafe, my god, just don't go any harder."

Spreading your cheeks apart, he grins at the masterpiece of mess he's made on your swollen flesh. "I won't baby, you did good."

Melting into the mattress, you flatten out of your arched back.

Rafe checks his watch... he's extremely late to meeting up with his drug dealer.

He redresses, grinning as he watches you ache from his ruthless fucking.

"Ice it." He cruelly demands. "I'll be back again when the house falls asleep."

You roll your eyes, reaching for your clean beach towel to wipe his cum from dripping down your thighs.

A phone begins to ring as you redress. You think that it's probably Barry calling Rafe's phone to see where he's been so held up at...

But it's not Rafe's phone, it's yours.

Rafe immediately beats you to the ringing iPhone. "Ohhhh?" He taunts. "An unsaved number? What are you being sneaky about?"

You snatch for your phone, angry that he keeps it high out of your reach. As he answers he tightly wraps his arm around your waist to keep you from fighting it.

Rafe answers your phone quietly, waiting for the caller to speak first.

"Hello?" The voice asks. "Y/n? Where are you? I thought you wanted me to come meet you halfway? Anyways, you know where we are! Bonfire at John B's baby! I already got the beer."

...

Rafe's blood boils.

Hearing a Pogue's voice has him heated. But hearing that out of all people, the voice belongs to JJ Maybank? It makes him furious.

He hangs up. "Getting drunk at John B's house, huh? My sister Sarah has you hanging with those fucking Pogues?"

"Give me my phone back!" You argue. "It isn't like that.."

"So then what is it like?" Rafe frowns. "You're fucking JJ Maybank?"

You scoff. "What is wrong with you? He's the only friend I've made here in Outerbanks. He waits tables with me at the Waterside restaurant."

"Oh does he now?" He taunts.

Rafe begins to laugh sarcastically. He suddenly snatches your arm into both of your views, forcing you to see how your skin is again riddled with goosebumps.

The same goosebumps that you get when indecent thoughts make you horny.

Fuck... He knows you better than you thought.

"Look at you." His jaw tightens. "You might not be fucking him, but you want too."

Your eyes widen and your large guilty irises give you away.

You are smitten with JJ, and you can't help it. He's the opposite of Rafe... He's kind, gentle, and extremely sweet to you.

You love his innocently dimpled smile. He's the largest crush you've had since you were in middle school and watched your first Justin Timberlake video.

"I guess I have to stop by John B's house tonight, huh? Pay a visit to JJ?" You're able to feel the heat raging off of Rafe's body.

You grab his arms, pleading for him not to make a scene. "No don't! Please, Rafe! What do you want? Aren't I giving you enough?"

"No." Rafe firmly grasps your wrists, flinging them away from touching him. "Block JJ's number, and stop talking to the fucking Pogues."

You agree, nodding as tears swell in your eyes.

"You live in this house, you're a fucking Kook!" His raised voice rains frightening screams upon you. "...Better yet, you're not even a Kook, you're mine.You're Rafe's, and if you continue to be hard headed and act like a fucking child, I'll release hell on Earth... you know that I can, and that I fucking will."

"Tell me you understand y/n, before I make you hate me even more." His voice lowers into a final threat.

You've seen him get rough with people, better yet, you've seen him already kick JJ's ass once for something that had nothing to do with you... doing it again would only make his day.

You gulp. "I get it Rafe, I understand."

...

Silence fills the room as he continues to gawk deviously over what is his, you.

Rafe wipes a fallen tear from your face. "Kiss me."

He tilts your chin to reach his lips and places the most tender kiss he has ever given you.

Rafe claims you as his as he grabs a handful of your ass, prying your sweetly soft lips apart as his tongue locks with yours. Rafe Cameron's tongue kiss is the only thing that has ever made your knees weak. Sadly, you can't decide if you still hate him or if his need to be possessive over you is actually causing you to love him.

[reachedrafe]

Pushed too far

Summary : You’ve been teasing Rafe all day, pushing his limits. But when you take things a step too far, he finally snaps.

Warnings : 18+ MDNI, smut, fingering, p n v and teasing (I think that's it but if there is more let me know!!)

It started off innocent enough. A playful brush of your hand against Rafe's thigh under the table during lunch, a lingering look, a bite of your lip. You loved how his jaw tightened, how his eyes darkened with a mix of frustration and desire. It was a game, one you had mastered, but today you decided to push a little further.

As the afternoon sun poured into the room, you found yourself alone with Rafe in the living room. You sauntered over to where he sat on the couch, his eyes glued to the TV but you knew he wasn’t paying attention to whatever was on. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and almost tangible.

You climbed onto his lap without a word, straddling his thighs. He stiffened beneath you, his hands instinctively gripping your waist. You could see the conflict in his eyes—half of him wanted to toss you off, and the other half wanted to pull you closer.

"What's wrong, Rafe? Don't you like it when I play with you?" you whispered, your voice dripping with seduction as you began to rock your hips against his. The friction, even through your clothes, was delicious, sending a shiver of pleasure through you.

He exhaled sharply, his grip on your waist tightening. “You really like to push me, don’t you?”

You grinned, your lips inches from his. "Maybe I just like seeing how far you'll let me go."

His eyes narrowed, and before you could react, he grabbed the back of your neck and crashed his lips against yours. The kiss was anything but gentle; it was fierce, all tongue and teeth, as if he was trying to devour you. You moaned into his mouth, the sound only spurring him on.

Without breaking the kiss, Rafe’s hands slid down to your hips, holding you firmly as he ground you down harder against him. The sensation made your head spin, a wave of heat pooling between your legs. His control was slipping, and that’s exactly what you wanted.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but you didn’t stop moving your hips. “Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted breathlessly, loving the way his eyes flared with anger and lust.

Rafe’s expression darkened, and in an instant, he had you flipped onto your back on the couch, his body hovering over yours. His hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. “You think you’re so tough, don’t you?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

You couldn’t hide the smirk that tugged at your lips. “Maybe I just like seeing you lose control.”

Something inside him snapped, and you could feel it in the way his grip tightened on your throat, the way his other hand yanked your hips against his, grinding against you with a desperate need. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted me to snap?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a whimper as his hand slid under your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His touch was rough, almost punishing, but you loved every second of it.

“I’ve had enough of your games,” he hissed, his hand slipping under the waistband of your shorts. You bucked against him, a moan escaping your lips as his fingers found their way between your legs, teasing you through the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Rafe…” you breathed, but your voice was lost as he pressed down harder, the sensation sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You were quickly losing control, your teasing turning into desperate need.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice barely more than a growl. “To see what happens when I stop playing nice?”

You couldn’t form words, only nodding as your hips moved against his hand, chasing the release that was so close. But Rafe wasn’t going to let you off that easily. He suddenly pulled his hand away, leaving you gasping and trembling beneath him.

“Not so fast,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

You whimpered, a mixture of frustration and arousal building inside you. He was so close, his body pressing down on yours, his hand still around your throat, and you could feel how hard he was against your thigh. But he was in control now, and he was going to make you beg for it.

Rafe leaned down, his lips hovering over yours. “Say you’re sorry,” he demanded, his voice soft but commanding.

You swallowed hard, your pride battling with the overwhelming need coursing through you. But as his fingers slid back between your legs, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy, you broke.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

“For what?” he pressed, his lips brushing against your jaw.

“For pushing you,” you gasped as his fingers dipped under your underwear, grazing against your wetness. “For teasing you.”

Rafe’s eyes glittered with satisfaction as he finally gave in, his fingers plunging inside you with a force that made you cry out. He didn’t hold back, driving you to the edge with a relentless pace, his mouth on yours swallowing every moan, every desperate plea.

When you finally shattered, it was with a force that left you trembling in his arms, his name a broken whisper on your lips. He held you through it, his fingers slowing but never stopping, prolonging your pleasure until you were nothing but a quivering mess beneath him.

You were completely wrong when you thought he was done. He moved slowly, with purpose, his hands steady as they unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. His eyes never left yours, dark with an intensity that sent shivers done your spin. When his pants finally dropped to the floor, you gasped, unable to tear your eyes away.

He was rock hard, every inch of him throbbing with need. The sight alone was enough to make your breath hitch, a wave of heat pooling in your low in your belly. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them done with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse quicken.

As he lined up with your entrance, you felt a surge of anticipation, your body already aching for him. He pressed forward, a rough but measured force that stole your breath. Every inch that stretched and filled you brought a mix of pleasure and pain that bordered on overwhelming, your body clenching around him instinctively. His movements were controlled, each push slow, deep, leaving you with no choice but to feel every single moment.

As he pushed deeper, you felt every nerve in your body light up, your breath catching in your throat. The slow, deliberate rhythm he set was torturous in the best way, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. His hands found your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, anchoring you to him.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure—your soft gasps and his low, guttural groans merging into one. The sensation of him filling you, combined with the raw, almost primal connection between you, was overwhelming. It was as though time slowed, every second stretching out as you moved together, lost in the intensity of the moment.

His pace began to quicken, the roughness of his thrusts increasing as the tension between you built to a crescendo. You could feel the pressure mounting inside you, each movement bringing you closer to the edge. Your nails raked down his back, leaving trails of sensation in their wake as you arched into him, desperate for more.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice a low growl as he whispered your name, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. It was as if he was claiming you with each thrust, marking you as his in a way that was both possessive and intensely intimate.

The world around you faded, leaving only the feeling of him inside you, the heat of your bodies pressed together, and the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you both. And then, just as you thought you couldn't take any more, he shifted, hitting that perfect spot that sent you spiraling over the edge, your body trembling "Rafe. I-I'm gonna cum" you cried out, the release crashing over you in wave after wave of ecstasy.

He followed you moments later, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deep inside you one last time, his body shuddering as he found his own release. For a few heartbeats, you stayed like that, locked together in the aftermath, your breathing heavy and your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all.

When it was over, he pulled back, his breath ragged, his eyes still dark with desire. “Next time,” he warned, “think twice before you start something you can’t finish.”

You nodded weakly, still trying to catch your breath, but you couldn’t help the small smile that played on your lips. You knew you’d do it all over again. After all, pushing Rafe Cameron’s buttons was your favorite game.

[blondwhxrewrites]

You know as someone who reads a lot of dark fiction I feel like there is a lack of readers who get into those situations and something inside them instantly snaps and they are like 'I don't care what the fuck I have to do, I am getting out here alive.'

Like I think it's totally realistic for the reader to be panicking and stuff but I also need a reader who panics and then just snaps because survival instincts kick in.

Reader whose been watching true crime videos since the middle grade

Reader who has anxiety and has been making plans there whole entire life for what they would do if they ever get in those situations

Reader who could have the worst memory and yet the moment they get kidnapped it's like something switches and they remember every single little detail down to the shampoo that their kidnapper uses.

Reader who knows how to get out of restraints because they watch self-defense videos all the time

Reader who even wears things they know could help if they ever get into situations like a bobby pin, or a bracelet that has sharp enough things on it to cut through things.

I think a lot of times people forget how much survival instincts kick in those types of situations sometimes.

Look man, just give me a reader who has anxiety and has prepared there whole life for those moments because of there subtle paranoia and fear

[bluebayousblog]

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 18)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Christmas Morning

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART SEVENTEEN

Drew didn’t want to let go of Isobel, and he meant that in so many ways. When he was fourteen he laid eyes on her for the first time, and hadn’t expected to like her as much as he did—his entire family liked her. She was so shy with them all in the beginning, but he still managed to be enamored by the fraction of her she presented to his family within those first few weeks of them meeting. He knew she was special and it was easy for him to want to treat her as such because in his head doing that meant she would stick around, it meant she would open up around them.

When college came around they ended up at the same university, so he never had to consider parting ways with her in that regard, it was when she began dating Grayson that he experienced what it felt like for her to be slipping away from him. He didn’t register the feelings as jealousy, no it was more like a discomfort he felt about her being in a relationship. A discomfort that he chalked up as him being protective because that is what made sense to him at the time. He couldn’t stop her from dating, so he learned to live with it—learned how to share Isobel with another man who didn’t deserve her—until they broke up three years into their relationship. And though she returned to him heartbroken and not quite the same happy girl she was before he’ll always remember the relief he felt.

The last two years of college he spent probably annoying Isobel beyond lengths but that’s how he got his fix. He enjoyed walking her to class when he could, no matter how brief, it was always enough for him to see her face and hear her sweet voice. When weekends came he invited her to his parties because it was an excuse to have her around without having to worry about her wellbeing somewhere else. And at those parties he couldn’t help but give most if not all of his attention to her when he wasn’t entertaining some random girl. How could he not when she was in the same room as him, it was close to impossible for him to ignore Isobel’s presence.

Drew had been with so many women in his life, and never once had he felt that pull he did with Isobel after simply realizing he could be attracted to her. After years of knowing each other he’d kissed her once and had been overcome with the need to have her to all to himself. He’d always felt this way but having her in such an intimate way made it so much clearer. Being with Isobel created a fear within Drew because although he felt for her in the capacity that he did, it didn’t mean she felt the same way for him.

And just because Drew had fallen in love with Isobel didn’t mean she would ever fall in love with him.

Isobel let him hold her in his arms after he told her he loved her, she rolled over and hid her face in his chest instead of running away from his confession. He felt whole with her in his embrace, the way she relaxed with him made him feel like she would never leave him, so it scared him when he had to slip away to the bathroom to clean up and discard the condom. The mere thought of the bed being empty when he returned making him linger in the bathroom a little longer just to brace himself.

He eventually couldn’t help but go back to her, holding his breath as he approached his bed, and when he saw her body still resting there on his side of it, he exhaled.

“You took my spot, Izzy Bear.” Drew stated with a smile as he slipped himself under her body, and he melted when her soft hand ran up his stomach so she could wrap an arm around his torso.

She looked so adorable under him, her long hair framing her face, her soft skin bare, and her brown eyes warm with unspoken emotion that made his grip on her hip tighten, “Your spot was warmer than mine.”

He could only smile in response as their eyes remained locked, it felt completely different than before and they both knew it was because what had just transpired between them. Isobel hadn’t expected having sex with Drew to leave her feeling so needy. She hadn’t thought about what it would be like after, and now she was feeling so many confusing emotions all at once. She felt scared of his feelings—of her own—but she didn’t want to leave him. Isobel had already done that, and it only hurt them both. So she clung to him and silently thought of everything that had happened tonight. The unnecessary fighting followed by intense sex followed by his confession.

“You love me?” Isobel whispered with her lips moving against the arm her cheek was lying on, and she couldn’t ignore the twinge of hopefulness that was buried deep in her tone. Only someone who desperately wanted to hear the emotion could distinguish it beyond all of her layers she put forth, but she had a feeling her body knew Drew was exactly that—desperate for a part of her no matter how minuscule. She wanted to look away before he answered her, not in fear of him not saying yes, but the fear of simply looking him in the eyes as he answered her.

“Yes.”

Her face immediately heated at the short response that despite its conciseness had her heart pounding inside her chest, and despite her internal transgressions her eyes couldn’t help but find his blue ones. It was unbelievable how one or three words could mean so much—could make her feel so much. She’d once felt this way before with someone else, she’d also ran away from this feeling, but it still managed to find her and still knocked the breath out of her. She knew her cheeks were red when he swept his thumb across the warm skin of her face, “When did you realize it?”

It was like Isobel was in front of a mesmerizing flame she shouldn’t touch, but couldn’t help but stick her fingers through. Although, the closer she got to him, to the heat, the fire wasn’t so scary anymore—like it wasn’t even really a fire to begin with.

“Isobel, I think I have always loved you.” Drew settled on an answer after thinking it over. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but it also felt impossible for him to keep what he was thinking to himself. It was like when she gave herself to him he couldn’t hold in his feelings for her any longer.

And If he was being honest he couldn’t remember not loving Isobel. The time from when they were only family friends to when they hooked up for the first time felt like one convoluted memory of Drew falling for her without knowing it.

Isobel had no idea what to think, someone had fallen in love with her and he’d done it so easily—so effortlessly. And it melted all of her resolve considering the fact that he’d told her on a holiday she held so close to her heart. She was going to remember his devotion to her every Christmas thereafter.

“I don’t know what to say, Drew.” She shyly admitted, now looking away from his gaze. He just sounded so sure from the first ‘I love you’ as he dropped down on the mattress beside her after he rolled off of her, and it was his certitude along with his admission that stole the air from her chest.

She didn’t want to hurt him because of her own reservations, but she also hadn’t come to terms with her own feelings for Drew like he had for her. The last thing she wanted to do was compare what she had with him to her past relationship but her trauma made it hard to distinguish the two. Though, Isobel knew better because the way Drew made her feel wasn’t comparable to the man she had before. Even the way he told her he loved her was different, there was no flood of expectancy—he just wanted her to know but still she couldn’t help but wonder if her silence was disappointing him.

Because despite all of her fears, something that remained consistent for Isobel was that she believed his word.

“I don’t need you to know what to say, Isobel, I’m sorry I couldn’t help it.” Drew swallowed, wanting to do everything he could not to scare her anymore than he already had.

Isobel’s heart melted at his words, he was being so vulnerable and honest and it only made her want to tuck herself further into his arms, “You don’t have to apologize, Bear.”

He looked so handsome staring down at her with that same glimmer she always saw in his blue eyes, but now she knew exactly what he was feeling behind them. She couldn’t help herself as she leaned up to press their lips together in a gentle kiss, hoping it conveyed everything she couldn’t say because though she couldn’t articulate her feelings for Drew, it didn’t mean she didn’t feel anything at all. 
They kissed slowly like time was infinite for them, reveling in the feeling of their lips against each other, and each slow peck eased her nerves. She felt how intentional he was with his kisses like her mouth was made for his own, like he’d found something he’d been always looking for, while Isobel just tightly held on.

Never did she think she’d be in Drew’s bed as he sensually kissed her lips after telling her he loved her on the early hours of Christmas morning. It was unimaginable at one point, but in the moment it made perfect sense. The feeling of his wet lips, the warmth from his body against her own, and the idea of Drew falling in love with her—for the most part.

Isobel suddenly pulled away and looked into his eyes, looking for the answers to the questions she was afraid to ask, the questions she thought may make her look weak in his head. She hated letting her insecurities show, but they would only continue to haunt her if she kept letting them choke her until she was rendered silent. It was easy for Isobel not to be a burden to her friends and family, but what she hadn’t realized was just how silent it made her that she became sort of nonexistent.

And for once she didn’t want to feel that way with Drew.

“You won’t get tired of me?” She quietly asked, forcing herself to keep their eyes connected as she waited for him to speak. Isobel could confidently say that was one of her biggest fears, someone getting tired of you loving them because she’d experienced it first hand. And though it came out like a question, it was more of a plea.

Drew’s eyebrows creased at her question. Not only because the possibility could cross her mind, but at how raw and vulnerable her voice sounded as he listened to her. It was crazy how you could spend an abundance of time with someone and not know how bruised they are, then they let you in and you don’t understand how you couldn’t have seen it all before.

“I could never get tired of you” he stated with emphasis like the thought was rudimentary, he said it with a gentle force like it was truly impossible, and he promised it to her with sincerity because he could never reach that point. He wanted from the depths of his being for her to understand that she had nothing to fear because Drew tiring of Isobel simply could not be.

Drew never thought he could ever be frustrated with Isobel until he fell in love with her. He was frustrated with her for things she couldn’t help, frustrated at things that happened to her, and frustrated that he he’d taken so agonizingly long to realize just how important she was to him that she’d found love in someone else and been burned because of it.

“You promise?” She gave him a gentle smile, but he saw right through it and he knew just how important it was to give her what she needed.

Reassurance.

God, he just wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her entire body until she understood him and all the doubt in her mind was no more when she looked at him, touched him, and simply thought of him. But this was Isobel and while he did want so badly for her to trust what they had, there was also a part of him that wanted to see her slowly heal no matter how long it took because he was coming to find out, to truly know Isobel was to love her for the sides of her she allowed people to see while also loving the hidden parts of her that weren’t invisible—they were just barely on the surface.

“I promise, Izzy Bear.” He whispered and when she smiled, a real smile with her teeth on display just for him to see, the frustration he’d just been feeling felt so insignificant to the warmth currently inhabiting in his chest, “Give me a kiss.”

“I don’t think I heard you, Bear, can you say it a little firmer?” Isobel smirked.

She leaned her body on his chest and brought their mouths so close their lips brushed, barely keeping a slither of space between them. Her smirk grew into a full grin when she felt his arm wrap around her lower back and squeeze her upper thigh in his hand.

“I said give me a kiss, Isobel.” Drew looked unamused as he stared into her eyes while his hand wandered upward to rest on her ass.

Isobel didn’t listen as he repeated himself just as she asked, instead she moved her lips to his neck, running her mouth across the contours of it, his skin salty on her tongue. She couldn’t tell if the increase in his breathing was because her defiance was pissing him off or turning him on, but she didn’t mind either, “Hmmm I don’t think I feel like kissing you right now.”

“You always feel like kissing me.” He gritted through clenched teeth as she laid a full kiss on the center of his throat making her giggle. Isobel knew he was referring to just how pathetic her attempt was to keep things platonic between them for the holidays. How she’d cracked within days, no within minutes and hadn’t been able to keep her mouth off of him since. God, did she love having her lips on Drew.

Isobel chose not to respond as she continued to plant kisses down his neck and chest, every peck deliberate in her wake as she made her descent. She wanted to show Drew that she felt for him just as intensely as he did for her even if she couldn’t put it into words. This was the only way she thought to herself, atleast that’s how it worked for her in the past. Then Drew’s hand found her cheek and she froze before he pulled her back up his body so she was back where she began—chest to chest, nose to nose, and just slightly brushing his lips with her own.

“You don’t have to do that, Baby.” He mumbled as he pressed their foreheads together, staring into her brown eyes as if he was really trying to make sure she understood him, to remind her that he knew her.

Isobel’s eyes widened as she stared back in a sort of disorienting realization at the sincerity in his eyes and how she’d thought she’d loved before when really that hadn’t been what it was at all because what she was seeing in front of her in this moment was incomparable to anything she’d witnessed before.

“I want to kiss you.” She voiced her thoughts, it came out naturally like Drew was meant to know everything she was thinking.

“Then kiss me.” He barely finished before her lips were covering his in a gentle kiss.

One of his hands immediately found her jaw, squeezing her face as he pulled her further against his mouth. He could feel her as she immersed herself in the feeling of them being connected like she was wordlessly giving him another piece of herself that only he could interpret. Drew couldn’t help but release a deep groan at the intensity of it all, at how packed full of emotion this all was. His hands slipped down her jaw onto her throat before sliding to the back of her neck so he could bring her closer, desperate for all she was willing to give to him.

They kissed until they were out of breath, until Isobel was panting for him and desperate for his touch. His tongue massaged carefully into hers as he took his time tasting her. Her lips were starting to feel swollen and bruised but every time he released the pressure on her neck she kissed him deeper so his grip would return. She whined against his mouth when he disconnected their lips and looked up at the ceiling obviously drowning from his own arousal. She didn’t know where to go from here as she stared down at him, his eyes tightly shut and trying to control his breathing. Here she was in bed with a man who didn’t need her to prove herself to him, and she was completely and utterly lost in it all, “You’re making me feel things I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.” Isobel whispered as low as she could and rested her chin on the warm skin of his chest .

His eyes remained closed, but when she felt the rumble of a groan travel up his throat she knew he’d heard her and she smiled.

Isobel then couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let her tell him she loved him with his eyes closed, but she knew that’s not how she would want it, she couldn’t imagine it that way. In her head, when she let herself hope, she would say it when she wasn’t afraid to look him in eyes as she gave him her heart.

But for now she’d whisper it in riddles with his waiting stare hidden behind his resting eyelids.

She fell asleep comfortably in his arms and woke up to Drew staring down at her that Christmas morning. They’d obviously switched positions during the night as she was now tucked into his warm body as his back shielded her body and he leaned on his side, putting all his weight on his right arm, “You always wake up at this exact time on Christmas Day.”

Isobel didn’t have to look at the time on her phone to know it was seven in the morning. Her parents were most likely awake and lounging around in the den downstairs while she was cuddled up with Drew in his bedroom instead of waking up in her own. In just thirty minutes they would be listening for her descent down the stairs because that’s how it went every year they spent Christmas together, but things were changing to her dismay.

“How do you know? You usually don’t wake up until breakfast is ready.” She poked his side and giggled when he jumped at the feeling.

Drew couldn’t help but smile at the years of memories from all their holidays spent together, “For some reason I always wake up the moment you walk past my door to the stairs.”

If she already wasn’t a puddle from how sweet he was to her last night, she would’ve melted further into the mattress.

“You sure you weren’t feeling me two years ago, Bear?” Isobel joked though they’d been spending holidays together in this cabin for far longer than two years. Meaning he’d been feeling for her for so much longer.

He wrapped both of his arms around her body so he could pull her into him, he was getting used to his days starting with Isobel’s, especially on one of her most cherished.

“What did I say to you last night, Is?” He breathed and brushed her bare hips with his hand.

‘Isobel, I think I have always loved you.’

The more she heard him say it the more she wanted to hear it, like a song you didn’t quite understand the first listen but as you absorb the melodies, the words, and meaning you can’t help but want to hear it on repeat.

When Drew saw Isobel bite her bottom lip as her dark eyes glazed over in thought he swore he felt his heart rate drop before it began pounding in his chest. He loved this about her, how her body betrayed her and revealed exactly what she was feeling. Drew just loved when her guard was down with him. His grip tightened on her hips as if it would slow down the thumping in his veins.

“I have to get dressed.” Isobel released her lip and pouted knowing her mom would come check on her if she didn’t come downstairs soon, especially since she played sick yesterday to avoid the man she was under at this very moment.

“Okay.” Drew could only watch in a trance as she slipped from under him. He was mesmerized watching her leave the bed and stand before him with nothing covering her body. His tongue swiftly poked out to wet his lips when she swiped her pajamas off the floor and began to slowly get dressed—knowing his greedy eyes were watching, “Come here Isobel.”

She was working on the first button of her top when he interrupted and she wasted no time before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed so she was facing him. When his big hands took over what she’d been doing, she let him as he buttoned up the silk pajama top just as slowly as she’d planned on doing. Although, with his fingers grazing and nudging the curve of her breasts as he made his way up to the last button it had a very different outcome.

“I’ll see you down there, baby.” Drew wiped his mouth with his thumb as he darkly glanced at her breasts through the red satin then back up to her pretty eyes. For some reason Isobel couldn’t help but grin in amusement at how boyish he was being, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was always that way in the morning.

“Maybe you should come downstairs a little earlier than usual?” She suggested and cursed to herself for not wearing any slippers when she decided to come here last night. When she got to the door she turned and gave him a soft look before having to go back to reality, a reality she wasn’t sure she wanted to maintain anymore.

“I’ll be right behind you, Isobel.”

[rafecameronsgun]

Rafe bullies you since 9th grade,but he never took it far until now. Its your last year of school. He literally destroyed ur school days. For example when he locked you in the dressing room before PE,or when he grabbed your tits in front of everyone and told you to wear push up-bras.He made you anxious, not being able to look at anyone because they all just laugh at you and think you are ridiculous because of all the gossip Rafe told them about you.

You and Rafe both got kicked off Mrs Grace’s math lesson because of arguing and making a show.

DARK!Rafe

-Why can't you finally get off of me?-the sea of ​​emotions burst out of you when you both stepped out into the corridor.

Rafe makes a bored face at your whining and then grabs your hand and drags you to the empty dining hall not far from the abandoned classroom.

- Listen to me! - he pushes you and you fall to the ground. His middle parted hair hangs loosely in his eyes as he bends down to talk to you.

-You are nothing, just an ugly bitch with whom I can play as I please, take everything I do to you or try to fight back and see what happens.

You push yourself up on the ground into a sitting position. You close your eyes and speak with a trembling voice.

-What do I have to do for you to finally leave me alone?

Rafe laughs.

-Oh, I don't think there's anything you can do to make me leave you alone. Your pathetic existence revolves around people like me and I'm just bored to play with you for as long as I want.

You place yourself on your knee and it is extremely pathetic that you are about to beg for him.

- Please, please, I can't go home one more time and cry myself to sleep because you embarrass me all day! I leave school every morning with anxiety, I don't want to spend the last year of school like this!

Rafe laughs loudly at your dramatic speech and his blue eyes darken as he unbuttons his khaki pants with a dark smirk.

- If you suck me well enough, maybe I'll let go of you.

You swallow and even though you knew that Rafe Cameron is evil incarnate, that he can do anything just to have power over someone, but you didn't think that he could really go that far. Since you're already on your knees, you don't have much to do except to take his huge cock.

Desire and passion tower in dark colors in his beautiful blue eyes. He smooths your hair back with his big, strong hands and grabs it in a ponytail.

- Do what I asked, you dirty Pogue!

You close your eyes and force yourself to move forward. You've never done this to anyone before, so you're disgusted by the strange smell that hits your nose. You open your mouth as if you're about to eat and take the red tip first. You taste it, suck it, which makes Rafe moan quietly.

-Enough teasing, now suck it!-he grits between his teeth

You push your mouth forward, only until it is not uncomfortable. When you feel him filling your mouth completely, you pull back a little, but Rafe grabs your hair and pulls your head back to look up at him.

- You are not pleasing yourself,you are pleasing me!

And with one movement he swings his hips forward and pushes his cock down your throat and when tears start to form in your eyes, he stops. For another 5 seconds

he won't let you go until the first tear rolls down your face and then he' pulls it out.

He groans and tugs at your hair, pulling you up from the ground.

-You're an useless little bitch-he hisses as he presses your face against one of the dining tables. He pulls off your short skirt along with your panties and spreads your legs with his knees. One of his hands firmly presses your face to the table and the other lands on your ass with a loud snap. You shudder and shiver from the sudden impact. Then he do it again and again. You feel awfully pathetic for enjoying this, your pussy wet. You moan loud from the last slap, because it hits your pussy straight. Rafe laughs darkly and with a sudden movement he enters your body. You grunt and youre glad that he doesn't see how my eyes roll 360 degrees.

-Damn it!-he giggles as he begins to pick up a rhythm. Your legs are so far apart that you can't even close because of Rafe's body pressing into your cunt, his dick touches that certain sweet spot in you. You scream, your walls tighten around him and his fingers gently start to play with your clit to please you even more.

-Rafe!-you gasp-I can't take it...too much!-you almost cry from the excessive dose of released endorphins and dopamine.

-ENOUGH!

Rafe smirks and thrusts all the way in, not moving his hips as his dick is fully inside you,filling you.His hand starts to circle your clit faster, until your legs are shaking. Now you're really crying and you can't hold it in any longer, you're moaning around his dick accompanied by a huge scream.

-Take it, take it, you little whore...-Rafe groans as he chases his orgasm. After a few seconds, he pulls it out and squirts it on your lower back. The hot liquid flows down your ass. He slaps both of your ass cheeks one last time and pulls up his pants. His cum drying on your skin as you are still here,trying to catch your breath.

-You're a filthy pogue slut, don't expect me to give the luxury of respecting you. - he says in a hoarse voice.

Before I can react, the principal's voice comes from the school radio.

-Mr. Cameron and Mrs. (your name) come to the office immediately!

Oh, what trouble you've gotten yourself into!

@rafescokewhore @rafeandonlyrafe @rafeinterlude @sadfury @drewsbebe @starkeyisthelastname @urfavcameron

@xxbutdaddyilovehimxx

[breeistired]

JJ with Latina reader

Warnings: This is very short, suggestive content, reader is angry, and author is using google translate despite being Mexican

Tropes: Moodyxhappy, poguexpogue, angryxsunshine, golden retrieverxchihuahua.

Summary: JJ spills readers cup and she snaps.

Bree speaks: Hi! Thank you for reading, just answering some questions before I continue writing. I do take reqs, but I do have a busy life, so please bare with me. I don't know how to make a taglist, so if you do, please tell me omg. Also, my askbox is always open, and i love answering questions, so before you go, ask me something! <3 Thank you, any tips are helpful! AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, I AM ADDING THIS TO ALL POSTS, AND IF I FORGET IT @brokenwingsgalore WILL PUT IT IN THE COMMENTS. IF YOU DONT LIKE IT, DONT READ IT!!! Thank you again, I love you and make good choices.

(I STILL DONT KNOW HOW TO MAKE A BOARDER)

Today was supposed to be relaxing.

JJ had already taken you out to the beach, letting you play with the water and find those seashells you loved.

When you and JJ came back to the chateau, you had decided- no demanded you make some birria tacos for dinner.

You were already on edge from finding out JJ was eating moldy bread. But you didn't let that ruin your day... yet.

So JJ sat on the couch with John B and Pope, ranting to them how you had the most perfect ass.

"Have you seen how round it is?" JJ groans and moans quite loudly. John B, who already had a girlfriend was tuning him out, making JJ sound like a white noise in his ear.

Pope simply walks away now.

JJ stands up and starts to walk to you. You were listening to music, swaying your hips to it as you chopped up some tomato for the salsa.

He snakes his arms around your waist giving you a sloppy kiss on your neck.

When you two first started dating, you would push him off and giggle. But its been a year since you both were in the honeymoon phase.

You sigh and let him pepper kisses on your neck, continuing to cook.

Everything seemed perfectly fine, nobody was yelling, John B was finally being quiet, not yapping about Ward.

Pope was doing something outside, nobody ever knew.

Until, JJ goes to kiss you and spills your birria sauce you spent an hour on onto the floor.

You and him look at each other at the same time. You clutch the kitchen towel that was on your shoulder. Narrowing your eyes at him, you take a deep breath and sigh.

He thinks he's off the hook, grabbing your chin and pecking your lips. You smile and slowly push him him away.

Then that's when everything snaps.

"¿Sabes qué, pequeño niño blanco? Estoy tan deprimido con tu pálido trasero." You yell and throw the towel at him.

"Crees que puedes conseguir cualquier cosa, ¿eh? ¡Pues no puedes! ¡Espero que te mueras por tu estúpido culo de comer pan mohoso! Morirías sin mí Maybank." You poke a finger into his chest and roll your eyes.

JJ currently has his hands up in defense. He has a tiny smirk on his face. And you fight the urge to smack him.

JJ knows you want to use physical force, you can't hide your facial expressions very well. And to him, they were quite cute, even if you wanted to murder him.

"Será mejor que borres esa maldita sonrisa de tu cara. Estamos en la cocina, hay cuchillos y no me quieres cerca de los cuchillos, JJ." You frantically run a hand through your hair. By now, Sarah and Kiara have entered the chateau finding you two like this. John B, Kiara, Pope and Sarah have all gathered around watching you basically ripping him a new asshole.

"Ni siquiera dios puede salvarte de mí. Oren para que después de tanto grito no se queme mi birria. Porque si así fuera, puedes despedirte de mi trasero." You deadpan. You wipe your hands on your jean shorts and smile. You wave at the girls, acting as if nothing had happened.

After a few seconds of silence, JJ speaks up.

"Is it a good time to say that turned me on?" JJ mumbles and grins at how you look at him.

"No." Everybody says in unison.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 2

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

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The Saturday afternoon lunch rush keeps Isla on her toes, weaving around tables and balancing trays of plates and glasses as she serves those seated in her section. The weather is beautiful out, so lots of customers snagged tables in the outdoor section, the air a delightful scent of salt and wood. Music plays through the speakers of the restaurant, but it’s drowned out by the constant chatter and clinking of utensils.

“Want a refill on that Dr. Pepper, Charlie?” Isla asks one of their regulars, an older man who always dons the same Budweiser trucker cap.

He gives her a kind smile, looking up from his sudoku book. “I’d appreciate that, Isla.”

She grins at him as she picks up the last of the dirty plates from a nearby table, piling them on the tray before carrying it over towards the kitchen window, dropping them off so they can be taken care of. Isla makes quick work of getting Charlie a fresh glass of his soda before going around the counter where Kie is putting in an order in one of the monitors. Before Isla can get started on the other one, the kitchen bell rings.

“Order for pickup!” comes Earl’s shout, and Isla turns to grab the paper bag to put it on the table behind the counter designated for pickup orders. 

When she goes to the other monitor to put in the order for table seventeen, Kie says from her left, “The guys are planning a party tonight at the Boneyard.”

Isla cracks a smile, unsurprised by this. As summer rolls around, she knows they’re in for a lot of parties and boat days. “Any special occasion for this one?”

Isla can sense Kie’s hesitation, and when she glances at her sister—younger than Isla by eleven months—she sees Kie pressing her lips together before meeting Isla’s gaze. “JJ’s dad’s in jail again.” 

Isla’s eyes widen, jaw dropping. Luke Maybank getting arrested is never new news, but Isla knows every time he gets out, he takes out his anger on JJ. Her best friend is too prideful to talk about it, but she doesn’t miss the bruises, the cuts. Neither do the others. But JJ isn’t the talkative type, so they show their support in other ways. Always.

“What the hell did he do now?” Isla asks, frustration coloring her voice. If there’s one person in this world she hates, it’s JJ’s dad, simply because of the abuse he inflicts on his son. It’s why JJ always stays at John B’s, whether his dad is in jail or not. 

“Drunk and disorderly and resisting arrest,” Kie answers with a roll of her eyes. But Isla doesn’t miss her sister’s own anger, sees it in the way Kie clenches her jaw. And why wouldn’t she? JJ is one of her best friends, and if there’s one thing Isla loves about her sister, it’s Kie’s fierce loyalty to the people she loves, her protectiveness over them. Especially where JJ is concerned. Their whole group keeps an extra eye on the blonde, whether he likes it or not. “I think he might be in for six months this time.”

Isla’s eyebrows shoot up, pausing in her work to look at her sister. “Seriously?” She whistles. “That’s his longest stint in a while, isn’t it? Is JJ gonna crash at the chateau?”

Kie nods. “He’s playing it off like he doesn’t care, but I know he’s sick of his dad’s shit.”

Nodding, Isla huffs out a breath. “Yeah, we all are.”

“Yeah.” Kie also lets out a long, heavy sigh. “I just want—oh, what the hell is he doing here?”

Isla glances at Kie, but her sister is looking past her, towards the front door of the restaurant over Isla’s shoulder. Kie’s features are hard as stone, dark eyes blazing with a kind of contempt and anger she saves for a select few people. Her jaw works, and Isla turns her head towards the door to see who she’s looking at—only for her to feel her stomach drop at the sight of Rafe strolling towards them.

He’s in a dark green, short sleeve collared shirt and navy blue cargo shorts that his hands are shoved into the pockets of. Isla presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth because his gaze seems to find hers instantly even in the crowded restaurant, muscles tightening until she straightens where she’s standing. Something stirs in the air as he draws near, his walk infuriatingly confident, and then he has the gall to smirk as he reaches the counter, standing on the opposite side in the space between where Isla and Kie stand.

“Kie,” Rafe greets, leaning forward with his arms resting on the counter, looking up at them with bright blue eyes. Kiara doesn’t say anything in response, her expression practically a sneer, but Rafe pays her no mind as his gaze shifts to the older Carrera. “Isla.”

Maybe she’s crazy, but she swears he says her name differently. As if it’s a secret shared between them. It sends a tickle down her spine she doesn’t dare to acknowledge. The crowd of the restaurant can’t be held accountable for the heat that spreads across Isla’s skin. Damn it.

“What do you want?” Kie demands, her tone unfriendly as always, where Rafe is concerned.

And, as always, he isn’t deterred by her tone. He shoots her an easy smirk and says, “Picking up my order.”

Exhaling sharply through her nose, Isla turns towards the trolley behind her, reaching for the bag Earl had handed over. Reading the name on the receipt, Isla confirms it’s Rafe’s, already paid for, and turns back to the counter, placing it in front of him. “Thanks,” he says with a too friendly grin as he straightens, reaching for the bag. His eyes then meet Isla’s and he arches an eyebrow. “You get your car fixed?”

Isla’s eyes widen slightly at his question, especially when she feels Kie’s gaze suddenly on her, hot and questioning. But she doesn’t dare meet her sister’s stare, and instead glares at Rafe. She sees that glint of mischief in his eyes, deliberate in his question in front of Kie, and Isla has to resist the urge to grab his bag of food and hit him with it. 

Isla’s fingers curl into her palms as her hands rest on the counter, bracing herself, though she’s trying not to lose it because by Rafe asking that one question, she knows she’s in for a lot more from Kie.

“Uh, yeah, it’s in the shop,” Isla answers stiltedly, throat tightening. “Should be good as new.”

Rafe’s smirk is antagonizing but attractive at the same time, and she wonders if she would’ve thought that before last night. Hell, it’s concerning that she’s thinking about it again now. This is the same guy her friends hate, who hates her and her friends, who has gotten into more than a few fist fights with her boys. Isla is pretty sure just thinking that Rafe Cameron is handsome is a betrayal to the Pogues.

“Good,” Rafe says with a dip of his chin, grabbing the top of the brown paper bag as he smoothly pushes away from the counter. He winks at her, then, and says, “One night of playing hero was enough for me,” before turning while grabbing his sunglasses that hang from the neckline of his shirt, putting them on as he heads out of the restaurant.

Isla clenches her jaw as she watches him go, because she knows he knows he just opened a can of worms in front of Kie and left Isla to deal with it by herself. Because, no doubt, as soon as he’s walking away, Kie is stepping up next to her with a hand on her hip and a demanding, “What the hell was that about?”

While Isla is older, Kie is the taller one, having a good four inches on Isla with her five-foot-nine height. So Kie stares down at her, eyebrow raises and a determined look on her face that tells Isla she won’t be dropping it until she gets the answers she wants. “Um—”

“How’d he know about your car?” she pushes, brown eyes searching Isla’s.

Isla had told her about her car breaking down last night, having no choice but to confess because one, Kie noticed her car wasn’t in the driveway and two, Isla needed a ride to work this morning. But Isla had told her and their parents the same thing—that the car broke down, and she stayed in it until an Uber showed up to pick her up. She completely omitted the part about those two creepy guys, and her running away and right into Rafe’s arms—literally. 

It seems, though, her evasion of the truth was for nothing, all thanks to Rafe. What a dick.

Kie’s questioning gaze is incessant and makes Isla’s body tighten with anxiety, until she finally drops her shoulders and throws her head back in defeat. “Okay, fuck, fine, but you can’t tell Mom and Dad,” Isla says hastily, turning to her sister. The busy restaurant seems to be on the back burner for now.

Kie looks even more confused. “Can’t tell Mom and Dad what?”

Nervously tightening her ponytail, Isla quickly tells Kie about last night’s events. About the car breaking down, those guys pulling up, pepper spraying one of them and making a run for it until she ran into Rafe and he, surprisingly, helped her out by giving her a lift home instead of having Isla wait for a ride. Kie’s expressions go from confused, to horrified, to bewildered and freaked out all at the right times, her jaw dropping lower and lower by the time Isla finishes her story.

When Kie doesn’t say anything right away, Isla blows out a breath. “Just—don’t tell Mom and Dad about those freaks, okay? And don’t tell the others about Rafe. They’d all try to skin me alive.” With a one shouldered shrug, Isla adds, “Except maybe Sarah.”

Kie is shaking her head, lips parted. “I’m sorry, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Rafe Cameron actually helped you.”

A dry chuckle escapes Isla. “Yeah, you and me both. But, you know—” She spots the hostess, Lara, seating someone in her section. “It was a one time thing. Wrong place, wrong time type thing,” she says with a laugh, though it sounds forced even to her own ears because despite the weirdness of it all, Isla is grateful to Rafe for helping her last night. Despite what she said, she hadn’t really wanted to stick around and wait for an Uber, or her friends or dad to pick her up. She wanted to be out of there as soon as possible, and Rafe had been the most viable option.

Before Isla can respond, Kie scoffs and adds with a roll of her eyes, “Of course, he’s gonna be a smug asshole about it, too.”

Isla snorts. “Are we surprised?” she says as she walks around the counter. “I’ve got a table.”

The rest of her shift goes by uneventfully, though Isla can admit that she feels like some weight has shifted off her shoulders after telling Kie about last night. The two of them tell each other everything, so NOT telling her, though for good reason, felt like a huge weight had landed on her shoulders. Now that she knows, some of it is off, though Isla knows the rest is because of the truth hidden from her friends. And while Kie’s reaction was far more understated than Isla had feared, she knows the same can’t be said for her friends. 

Pogues don’t keep secrets from each other, but this might have to be an exception. 

******

The Boneyard is a mixed crowd, as it almost always is whenever there’s a party thrown here. Music pumps through the night, accompanying the water crashing along the shore and continuous chatter from everyone gathered. The weather is perfect, and the knitted cropped top Isla wears over her bikini top keeps her comfortable as she sips her second beer of the night. JJ has been nice enough to let her sip from his flask, the vodka a sharp lingering taste in the back of her throat as she tosses the ping pong ball, high-fiving Cleo when it lands in a cup.

“You’re gettin’ smoked,” Cleo laughs at Pope and Kie on the other end of the table. “I thought you were gonna make it challenging for us!”

“Alright, alright, stop the celebration. You haven’t won yet,” Pope calls back before turning to his partner. “Come on, Kie, you got this.”

Kie holds up her free hand to silence Pope, her dark eyes fixated on the table between them. “Don’t pressure me.”

Pope holds up his hands in defense, but his dark, keen eyes watch the scene before him. Isla just knows his razor sharp brain is calculating the physics of it all as Kie prepares to do her throw. Unfortunately for her, the ball bounces off the rim of one of the cups, glaring at Isla and Cleo without any real heat when they cheer at her expense. Pope simply laces his fingers behind his head as he shakes it, pursing his lips in disappointment as Kie flips him off. 

As Cleo does her turn, Isla sways her hips side to side to the bear of the music, arms crossed as she sips her beer. Her gaze wanders around the party, taking in the plenty of familiar faces that surround her, as well as ones she doesn’t know but figures are the kids from families who are staying in Outer Banks for the summer. Other than them, Pogues and Kooks alike are spread out around the Boneyard; some mingling, others keeping to their friend groups. It’s always been like that, really.

There are a few bonfires lit up, the smell of smoke mixing with the salty air in a combination that tickles Isla’s nose with familiarity. She spots JJ sitting on one of the logs by one of the fires, animated in whatever story he’s telling to the group of people entranced by him. But she also notes how he keeps glancing in this general direction, and Isla knows exactly who he’s looking at. She smiles into her next sip of beer, subtly shaking her head to herself and wishing that JJ and her sister would just get out of this limbo they’re stuck in and finally get together. 

The beer pong game ends with Isla and Cleo winning, the two high fiving  as they shift over to let the next group play. Peering into her cup and the remaining drink inside, Isla tells her friends. “I’m almost out. Gonna head to the bathroom and get another.”

They nod their acknowledgements before Isla turns and wanders off. She’s not that drunk, but she smiles at anyone who calls out to her as she heads to the edge of the party where a row of three porta-potties are lined up. Isla hates using them—drunk people are so disgustingly messy—but when you gotta go, you gotta go.

She uses the toilet quickly and carefully, but it’s not until she’s exiting the bathroom that Isla ends up bumping into someone. A gasp rips through her when the remaining contents of her drink spill on her white crocheted top. Isla freezes, staring down at the beer stained top in shock; not a lot of her drink remained, but enough had been in the cup to dirty the middle of her top, cringing at the stickiness of the beer clinging to her skin as well.

“Oh, fuck.” Her gaze snaps up and the shock only intensifies into disbelief at the sight of Rafe standing before her, staring at her with guilt surprisingly swimming in his blue eyes.

A sharp breath escapes Isla, her shoulders tense as she gapes at him. “Seriously?” she demands, pinching the front of the damp top and pulling it away from her wet skin.

His guilt melts into annoyance, eyebrows pulling together as he tells her, “Excuse me, but you’re the one who bumped into me—again.”

Isla knows he’s right, but she can’t bring herself to care at this moment. Why him, of all people, to bump into twice in as many days? “Thank you for the recount,” Isla huffs, flapping her top in a feeble attempt to dry it. “And thank you for completely soaking my top.”

Rafe purses his lips as Isla turns back into the bathroom and rips off some toilet paper, soaking it in the sink before stepping back out and trying to clean the beer off of her skin, at least. The top needs to be washed and hopefully that’ll get the stain out, but Isla can’t stand the sticky sensation of her skin.

She can feel the weight of Rafe’s gaze on her as she slides her hand under her top and wipes at her chest and stomach, her black bikini top peeking through the holes of her knitted top. Heat pools in her cheeks and she tells herself it’s from annoyance rather than anything else, letting out a quiet huff as she balls up the tissue paper because although she’s not sticky anymore, she isn’t entirely keen on walking around with a stained top, even if others will be too drunk to notice. Or care.

When she looks back at Rafe, Isla blinks in bewilderment as she watches him unbuttoning the plaid button down he’s got on, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “Uh,” she drags the word out, and the heat in her skin only intensifies when her gaze locks in on his fingers deftly undoing the buttons, the gold ring on his index finger glinting against the light of the bathroom behind her. “What are you doing?”

Isla’s lips part when Rafe completely unbuttons the shirt, leaving him in a white tank underneath that proudly shows off muscular biceps as he shrugs off the button down and holds it out to her. “Wear this.”

She blinks. “What?”

Rafe cocks an eyebrow while Isla stares at him, no longer even registering the party behind him and instead looking back and forth between him and the shirt he’s holding out to her. Did she hit her head? What is happening? “You wanna walk around with a stained shit? Be my guest. Figured I’d give you a cleaner and drier option.”

This is so weird, and her extreme confusion pushes her to ask, “What are you even doing here?”

Rafe rarely shows up to the Boneyard parties. Unlike the other Kooks who make an appearance, Isla and her friends always figured Rafe thought he was too good to be seen here. The Kook prince liked to throw ragers at his own place, so why bother coming out all the way here? 

If Rafe is surprised or bothered by her question, he doesn’t show it. “Top dragged me against my will. Now are you gonna take the shirt or not?” he asks, giving the clothing a little shake as he holds it out.

Isla doesn’t want to necessarily walk around in her bikini top or her stained sweater, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she runs a debate in her head. Her friends will question her on whose shirt she’s got on, and she can lie and say some random guy instead of giving Rafe’s name, but what are the odds that Sarah recognizes her brother’s shirt? This guy seems to come to her rescue when she doesn’t have many other options; it’s not like she can borrow anything from one of her friends. Pope’s got a shirt, JJ’s in a muscle tee, and John B’s got his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to show off his chest. 

God, maybe she should just go home.

Instead, though, Isla finds herself untying the front of her knitted cropped sweater before shrugging it off, keenly aware of Rafe’s gaze on her as she stands in front of him in her bikini top and daisy dukes. Yet, his stare doesn’t feel unwanted or uncomfortable, and Isla can’t look away from him, either. Suddenly, they’re locked in a kind of staring contest, to see who will look away first, as Isla shrugs off her sweater without breaking eye contact.

The air is electric, the smell of smoke adding a kind of sensuality to how close Rafe stands, offering his shirt. The material is surprisingly soft when Isla grasps it, putting her arms through the sleeves, and the air hitches in her throat when she sees that the shirt is practically a dress on her, stopping way past her shorts around her mid-thigh. Isla doesn’t bother buttoning it up, suddenly engulfed in that familiar scent she smelled last night when Rafe had been standing so close to her, and when she’d been on the back of his bike. A scent she would catch faint whiffs of whenever she was at the Camerons’ home, hanging out with Sarah.

Now, it wraps around her too pleasantly as she rolls the sleeves of the shirt up to her elbows before tying her sweater around her waist, making sure Rafe’s button down isn’t tucked into it.  She smooths it down with a huffed, “Good?”

There’s a shift in Rafe’s eyes, a gleam that stirs something to life in the pit of Isla’s stomach as she watches his blue eyes trail down the length of her. The movement of his gaze is slow, purposeful, almost as if he’s committing the sight of her in his shirt to memory and despite the summery balm of the night, goosebumps pimple her exposed skin in response to the touch of his stare. She can feel her pulse pick up speed, a dangerous realization as Rafe parts his lips and rubs the corner of his bottom lip with his thumb.

“Yeah,” he drawls with a slow nod, blue eyes once again locking with her brown. The air is charged between them, as if only a few more seconds need to pass before it sparks something into a fire. 

Isla tries not to shift on her feet, doesn’t want to show the sudden nerves that tickle her that have never existed when she’s been around Rafe—until now. She gives a gentle shake of her head to get her hair out of her face, keeping her voice as even as she can when she says, “Guess your one good deed of the month became two.”

A huff of a laugh escapes his now smirking mouth, hinting at dimples. Isla can’t look away despite all of the reasons she should. Especially when he coolly replies, “Guess you’re the exception.”

Isla presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth, warmth pooling into her cheeks as his words have an effect on her that takes her by surprise. But she remembers herself in time to force a sardonic smile to match her equally sarcastic response, “Lucky me.”

It pulls a chuckle from Rafe, glancing away as he rubs his jaw before he nods at her cup. “Let me get you another drink.”

His offer once again shocks her. Isla lifts her eyebrows and presses her hand to her chest in exaggerated melodrama. “Another good deed?” Rafe rolls his eyes, but that signature smirk remains. “I can get it myself, thanks.” She doesn’t want to risk her friends and sister seeing her even walking next to Rafe, knowing how they’d react. “And, uh, thanks for the shirt,” she adds almost begrudgingly. Though, she is grateful—even if he’s the reason the drink spilled on her.

And maybe Rafe can sense the conflict and confusion that brews inside of her—that has been since last night—because his smirk widens as he takes a step back, his eyes trailing down the entire length of her. His shirt suddenly feels heavy on her frame, like he’s just branded her, and her reaction should be to take it off and shove it back in his arms. 

But Rafe is already walking backwards, hands in the pockets of his pants as he says to her, “You wear it well,” before turning and walking off without waiting for a response

Not that he would get one, because all thoughts eddie out of Isla’s head, gaping at his back as he walks away with those damning parting words. In moments like these, she wishes she had her sister’s smart mouth; Kie is an expert in snappy comebacks and witty comments, meanwhile Isla is left a flustering mess only regretfully coming up with her responses long after the conversation is over.

“Fuck’s sake,” she mutters to herself, forcing her feet to move as she approaches the party.

She stops by at the keg, getting a refill on her drink before walking back to where her friends are. Her steps are slow, though, nervously fiddling with the rolled up cuff of the shirt as she takes a deep breath and hopes that Sarah doesn’t recognize the shirt. Hell, it could belong to anyone, couldn’t it? 

Her friends are all gathered around one of the fires, just the group of them, and as Isla nonchalantly sits down on the log next to JJ, he does a double take and takes in the sight of her new piece of clothing. “Whose shirt is that?” He pinches the material of the shoulder between his fingers, and Isla swats it off as she feels the others’ gazes on her. “Looks very Kook-like.”

Isla suppresses a groan—and fights the urge to glance at Sarah. Instead, she decides to give them half of the truth. “Some guy accidentally bumped into me, spilled beer on my sweater. He felt bad so he gave me his shirt to wear.”

Honestly, she’s kind of proud of herself for sounding very blasé about it, like she’s got nothing to hide. As she takes a sip from her beer, Pope snorts, “What kind of dude wears a button down to a beach party?”

There’s a pregnant pause before every single one of them, including Isla with a sigh, answers, “A Kook.”

[billwidoll]

Don't raise your voice to me

_____________________••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"where were you?! I texted you, I called you, I looked for you!!" Rafe screams, squeezing Maddy's arms tightly.

Maddy kicks Rafe in the balls with her knee. And Rafe lets go of her and screams in pain. Maddy tries to run to the bedroom door, but Rafe, even on the floor, manages to catch her ankles, Making her fall

Rafe climbs onto Maddy's body, with her struggling. Rafe holds your arms once again

"I don't know what the fuck you have in your head!!! I can kill you!!" Rafe shouts in Maddy's face.

Maddy headbutts Rafe, he falls back and Maddy gets up and grabs a lamp.

"I'M YOUR GIRLFRIEND AND NOT YOUR BOXING BAG! AND YOU'RE NOT AFRAID OF ME!!"

Maddy said shouting and pointing the lamp at Rafe.

Rafe didn't move for 5 seconds, and after that he went at her, without thinking twice Maddy threw the lamp in Rafe's face, who fell with his forehead bleeding.

"I warned you Rafe Cameron!! I'm not dating you to get beaten up, you crazy person!!" Maddy was shouting at Rafe from afar.

Rafe realized he lost and that Maddy was right.

"damn, what the fuck!! What the fuck!" Rafe says, sitting on the floor holding his face covered in blood.

Maddy sees that scene and realizes that she and Rafe are complete freaks who are together. Maddy comes over and sits next to Rafe. The two remained without saying anything.

"....you will be the death of me Maddy Pérez"

"....and you will be the reason I die Rafe Cameron"

[ladielovette]

introducing... spoiled!sweetheart!kook

spoiled!sweetheart!kook.. pretty blonde curls. obsessed with rafe. used to 25/8 attention until rafe with his busy schedule. always kissin' rafe. lover girl. gentle love. rafe's reason to not do coke constantly. daddies girl. daddies money user. a little ditsy. patient. animal lover. pink supremacy. nature lover. pink lipgloss. shimmer eyeshadow. vanilla coke. dior lover. skirts and dresses with the occasional skirt and flare sweatpants. tennis girl. spoiled. bratty sometimes. definition of queen of the waves. won state championship for surfing competition. rafes reason to not crashout. heart shaped sunglasses.

spoiled!sweetheart!kook masterlist

© ladielovette

[kkayyerr]

I have an idea for a really dark Rafe x reader fic…

Buckle up, guys…buckle up. (It’s also probably wouldn’t have an aspect of regression and I would play with daddy issues, maybe daddy kink and toxic relationship more)

It came out guys! Check my page:)

[rotteneldritchhorror]

I got bored... and made a shipping chart for OBX

I love the very clear separation of the Pogues and Kooks/whoever Rafe hangs out with lol

also yes- Sofia and Rafe are not romantically a thing, I dont care what anyone says, that man is gay as fuck and is sleeping with her cause its what he's used to and its easy, and he likes her cause she talks to him like a person and understands his insanity- I think eventually they'd get into a QPR, but for rn its a clusterfuck cause he doesnt know how feelings work lol

Template under the cut:

{Btw, if you use this template I’d like to be tagged, not cause I care about credit or whatever but I DESPERATELY wanna see people’s ships, I’m starved for classic fandom shipping charts and I’d love to see peoples more obscure ships, or what popular ships you think are just friendly, QPR ships, etc}

[reachedrafe]

The edge of the island

Summary : On a summer night in the Outer Banks, you find yourself caught in a dangerously seductive encounter with Rafe Cameron, where desire and danger collide.

Warnings : Sexual content (no actual smut!), Power dynamics, Kinda dark themes, Very mild aggressive behaviour in interactions

This is my first post so let's be nice please! 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

The air in the Outer Banks was definitely not thin, the opposite at that. It was thick with the scent of saltwater and wild jasmine, mingling together as the summer sun began to slowly set. The parties on the island were infamous and tonight was no different. The sound of laughter, giggles, glasses clinking and music echoed through the night as you found yourself wandering towards the darker side of the beach, away from the bonfires and revelry.

You weren't sure why you had come. Something about the night felt weirdly different, a pull you couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the whispers you had heard, the one about the pouges and the Cameron's. The island was full of stories, but none were as exciting, as dangerous, as the ones surrounding Rafe Cameron.

The Cameron estate loomed in the distance, half hidden behind the tall palms and thick foliage, but you knew the path well. You had been there before-many times, in fact. But tonight the mansion felt more ominous, as though it was holding its breath, waiting for something. Or someone.

"Looking for something?" a voice drawled from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned, your breath hitching as you came face to face with the man himself. Rafe Cameron. His blond hair was slightly tousled, and there was the signature smirk tugging at his lips, the one that made your heart race in equal parts fear and excitement. His eyes dark and hooded, raked over you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"I think I found it" you breathed out, your voice steady, though you could feel the wild fluttering in your chest.

Rafe's smirk deepend, a wicked glint sparkling in his eyes as he stepped closer, his body heat radiating into the space between you. "You sure about that?" he murmured, his voice low, the words laced with a seductive challenge.

Before you could answer, his hand was on your waist, pulling you against him. Sudden contact stole your breath, your body molding to his as if you'd been here a thousand times before. His touch was firm, possessive, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Rafe," you whispered, the sound of his name on your lips feeling both like a prayer and curse.

He dipped his head, his lips ghosting over your neck, just enough to make you shiver. "You've been playing this game for a while now," he said, his voice rough and dark, each word sending sparks down your spine "but do you even know the rules?"

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin just under your ear, his hand sliding lower, fingers pressing into the small of your back. "Maybe I don't care about the rules," you manage to say, your voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and desire.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, vibrating through you. "That's were it gets interesting," he murmured, his lips brushes against yours in a tantalising tease that left you aching for more.

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, as if the very night was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. Rafe's hand moved with a slow deliberate intent, each touch a promise of something more, something darker. His lips finally met yours, not with the soft, tentative pressure of a first kiss, but with a raw, hungry intensity that sent shockwaves through your whole body.

He kissed you like he was claiming you, like you were a prize he had been hunting, and now that he had you, he wasn't letting go. His hands roamed your body, exploring with a kind of urgency that matched the wild rhythm of your heartbeat.

As his mouth moved against yours, his hands slid up your thighs, his fingers trailing heat in there wake. The darkness of the night closed in around you, the world shrinking down to just the two of you, to feel his body pressed against yours, the taste of him on your lips.

Rafe pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath ragged. "Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice low and rough, the words sending a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your answer was immediate with no hesitation, "I want this" you breathed, your voice heavy with the same dark desire that mirrored in his eyes.

His lips crashed against yours once more, the kiss deeper, more intense, as if your words had unleashed something in him. And on that moment, nothing else mattered, not the whispers, not the danger, not the darkness that surrounded him. All that mattered was the way he made you feel, the way he was unravelling you with every touch, every kiss pushing you closer to the edge of something thrillingly unknown.

[whiteoakoak]

Anyone but you gives 90s romcom 💝