#ty sarah for looking over this!!

[missyourflight]

warm and real and bright

little tangled au snippet for lovely em @powerful-owl 💖✨

There’s a little orange cat in the corner of the town square. Max bends to say hello, stretching his fingers for it to sniff at. The cat rubs its warm head against his palm, making a small mewing sound, and Max looks up to see Daniel standing there with his hand out.

“Come on,” he says. “I found us a great spot.”

Max helps him push the boat out from the shore, the two of them laughing as they get it going and scramble to jump in. Daniel rows them out to the middle of the lake and they float there, watching the sun set over the castle.

Max had only seen castles like that in books before; he spent half the afternoon leading Daniel all around the wall of it, pointing out the turrets and the watchtowers and the crenellations, exclaiming over the stone lions, pretending to roar beside them.

“That mane of yours,” Daniel had said, shaking his head.

The sun has set, the sky heavy purple with twilight. 

“Any minute now,” Daniel says, eyebrows lifting, and something inside Max is fluttering with anticipation.

As they watch, a single lantern floats up from the castle. Max holds his breath, and after a moment others rise to join it, like a flurry of leaves lifted by the wind.

Soon every part of the sky seems to be filled with lanterns, every way Max cranes to look.

“When I was little I always thought these were for me,” he tells Daniel, his head tipped right back.

“Bit conceited,” Daniel says, and when Max turns to grin at him he’s pulling a lantern out from under the seat. “Happy birthday, Max,” he says.

Daniel can’t get the flint to strike, a shake in his hand, so Max helps him, and they light it together, release it into the sky.

Max can’t believe it. When he was in the tower he could never have imagined this, the smooth stretch of the lake, their small bright light lifting with all the others. But the tower seems so far away, his father – he doesn’t want to think about that now.

Max thinks about what he’s feeling: about the shape of Daniel curled up sleeping on the other side of the campfire, the way he looked when Max’s hair started to glow underwater, his face. How his voice cracks when he sings; how he’s the only person to ever show Max anything under the sky.

“Daniel,” Max says, and moves, lurching forward so quickly that he almost capsizes the boat.

“Steady!”

Daniel throws his arms out to balance them, water lapping roughly up their sides then gentling. “There we go,” he says. “Stable as a table.”

Max is on his knees on the wooden slats of the boat. His cheeks are hot.

“Thank you for showing me this,” he says.

Daniel’s shoulder lifts, a small movement. “You’re welcome.” Daniel’s face always makes so many expressions, but now he’s just looking at Max, eyes warm and dark.

“Daniel,” Max says again. He leans in – slowly, this time – and Daniel’s leaning too, the boat perfectly balanced on the water, a thousand soft lights perfect in the sky around them, Daniel’s mouth fitting against his, Daniel’s hands in the weight of his hair, Max’s heart shining like a lantern.

[josephquinnswhore]

replicate failure to protect - joel miller x female reader

summary: Joel cannot bare to lose you, not the same way he lost Sarah. Through his own self declared failure to protect.

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: ptsd episode, panic attack, mention of past attempted suicide, reader gets fucked up ig, blood, murder, guns, violence, age gap- unspecified. Established relationship.

It feels euphoric, the numbness that spreads from your side up your arms, parts of your body are fizzing with a lightheaded tingle as the blood seeps out of your body. Past the point of pain, the searing sensation of a dull arrowhead being pulled forward, taut at the hands of a single raider camouflaging into the surrounding bush—whistled silently through the air. The metal savagely tears through your flesh and stops right below your bottom rib on the left side.

As you lie on the ground, you’re unable to make sense of the blurred shapes and colours of the overgrown foliage on the slanted buildings, the sound of explosive gunfire is muffled by the ringing in your ears—you feel something. A tugging sensation, one that vibrates through the arrowhead and emits a protestful rumble from your lungs.

All you can make out is muffled ringing in your ears and some incoherent mumbling, watching the blurred outline of his lips move.

You can barely make him out, as he kneels above you, having snapped off the end of the arrow and tossed it behind him, knowing better than to take his eyes off of you for one moment. He’d looked away once, when he’d apprehensively watched you drop to the ground once the arrow had hit. In a moment of necessity to eliminate the enemy.

All you can make out is muffled ringing in your ears and some incoherent mumbling, watching the blurred outline of his lips move.

He knew tearing his gaze off of you a second time was a death sentence.

It had happened once before—the split microsecond that his deep brown teary eyes had sought reassurance from his younger brother in a moment of pure desperation. Pleading for any kind of comfort his brother could promise that she would survive, but she’d slipped away in his arms. The life in her eyes had faded the moment he looked away. Missing the last moments of light in her eyes that solitudes life.

This could not happen to you.

His aching fingers tear off a segment off his flannel below the last button, bending down to manoeuvre your body to slide the fabric under your back, wrapping it around the arrow to keep it stable.

The crimson blood had begun to seep through the flannel before he had finished tying a knot in the shredded fabric, even the loose strands of twine were stained.

But the blood.. your blood covers his hands, the colour burns the back of his eyelids. A burning sensation rises up his throat at the recognition. As he leans over you, the blood makes contact with his flannel, smearing a messy, damp pattern onto his clothes. He was reliving hell all over again two decades later.

But he broke his own rule, tearing his focus gaze away from your face to finish this task, it had been mere seconds of the process. He looked away a second time.

Speaking to you absentmindedly, his gaze returns to your face, dread filling his chest when he sees that your lips are slightly parted. The stress line in your forehead has ceased as your head is lulled to the side, the supple skin of your cheeks is grazed on the surface of the dirt on the ground.

Those beautiful, teary orbs that had just been staring at him with an unfocused gaze were now clamped shut.

A part of Joel wants to give up, reliving the traumatic event that had torn apart his will to live two decades ago, and left him with physical and psychological scars.

“No.. no, no no!” The shout is primal, a clear denial of acceptance that this was your fate.

The sight of you sends a jostle of dread through his veins. All he could see was himself re-living through the devastation of losing Sarah. On the account that he had failed once again to protect someone he loves.

Gathering his thoughts and thinking fast, he intertwined his hands and placed them in the centre of your chest, ignoring the ache in his knees against the crackled rubble of the concrete ground. He positions himself above you, bringing a inhuman-like strength into pounding his hands against your chest as he begins his compressions.

“Not you, not you baby.” He utters desperately, voice thick with emotion.

Unaware of his little brother’s presence—Joel’s eyes darken, black in colour and exerting a burning gaze through your eyelids, prompting you to open them.

To look at him. To prove he hadn’t failed you too.

An exhausted, broken cry rolls between his lips into the stale air between you, spit flying from his mouth as his actions become less precise and more desperate and harmful. Ignoring the fact that he had heard a substantial crack vibrate through his palms.

The burning sensation is all over, his shoulders, arms, wrists, knees. His heart.

“You’re not doin’ this, y’hear me? You have’ta stay.. you stay f’me baby.”

All the while your body is unmoving, limbs shaking with each downward thrust of his hands. “Just open ‘em for me, just look at me.”

Tommy watches the horrific scene, unaware of what your state was like—but he had seen Joel live through this once before.

“I ain’t mad at’cha baby. Jus’ open ‘em for me.”

Joel is begging you—if you can hear him, he can’t will himself to bring his fingers to your neck or wrist to feel your pulse point, petrified of feeling nothing.

His resolve crumbles when he sees Tommy, unable to stop.

“Joel.. Joel stop. Let me check, alright?” His voice hadn’t been this soft and insistent since he had pried his niece's cold body from Joel’s arms to bury her.

Joel falls backward onto the ground out of exhaustion, the ache in his chest is pressing upward into his throat, squeezing the life out of his oesophagus making him feel dizzy.

“She’s alive.” Tommy murmurs, turning to look at his older brother.

FOLLOWING MORNING

“You look like shit, Joel. Have you moved since we’ve been back?” He hears Tommy’s scornful voice, but he can’t bear to tear his eyes off of you. Watching the subtle rise and fall of the blanket that covers your chest.

“I ain’t movin’.”

Not an inch, not once did he allow his gaze to tear away from your chest, the proof that you were still alive. Some semblance of hope he was clinging onto that you would make it.

“You see her chest movin’?” He utters to his younger brother, seeking reassurance.

Without so much as a wink of sleep, he had begun wondering if he was hallucinating the faint movement from sleep deprivation.

“Course I do. You’re just tired.” Tommy reassured, holding out a mug of warm, black coffee.

Joel’s movements are piloted, automatic. Stiff as his arm lifts the mug to his lips, swallowing coffee with a bitter aftertaste of anxiety. The same heavy feeling builds in his chest for the second time he’d returned with you.

The pressure of his anxiety escalates, unable to focus his vision of you, or Tommy’s concerns he speaks, lungs stuttering and struggling to inhale as his hand begins to tremble.

Just shy of his fifties, Joel Miller was having a fucking panic attack. Again.

“Joel,” the weight of his younger brother’s hand digging into his shoulder with a firm grasp, withdraws him from his dissociative state, lying on his bed.

Tommy was staring down at Joel with a knowing expression. “She’s wakin’ up.” He repeats a second time.

Tommy and the coffee are long forgotten, set aside as Joel rises to his feet, looming over you in heavyset silence of anticipation and exigency.

His hands grasp onto your cheeks, cradling them as he lets out a long exhale of relief, staring into the familiar colour of your irises.

“Baby I thought you’d left me..” he utters shakily between the two of you, thick tears fall from his wet eyes down his face.

He watches as your dry lips part, a hoarse croak rolls off of your tongue in an attempt to speak.

“Don’t say nothin’, save your strength.”

His hands tighten around the small mug, tucking his thumb into the handle instead of four of his fingers, for the reason that his hands were too large to navigate the small curated gap.

Thoughtfully, he’d filled it only halfway with water and left it by your shared bed the previous evening, in the expectation of you regaining consciousness.

“Here,” he murmurs, with his free hand he urges you to tilt your head backwards. “There you go.”

Bringing the rim of his mug to your lips, he slowly tilts it upward until a small amount of water has seeped into your lips, allowing a small relief for the uncomfortably dry surface of your mouth.

The second time he encourages a little more, brushing the single few strands of hair from your face as you begin to sip on the water with a loud slurp.

When he’s satisfied you’ve had enough, he pulls the mug away and sets it back on the bedside table.

Your lips are tugged upward in a small smirk, the smallest huff of a laugh vibrates through your nose, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Straight back to annoyin’ me huh? Seems like my girl is feelin’ more like herself already.”

The coo sends your heart through an extra murmur, pulse erratically causing the flesh in your neck to pulsate.

“Know.. you..” your voice is strained, and hoarse from lack of water. “Love it.”

A hum reverberated through his throat in agreeance. Placing his hand on top of your own, clasping his fingers in between your own.

“I do love you.”

For a first confession, the words linger heavily in the air between you. An intense gaze is shared before you could process the weight behind them.

“I love.. you.” Taking a wheezing breath, you continue, the attempt to squeeze his fingers albeit weak—conveys the message. “Even if you.. cracked my ribs.”

His golden complexion reinforces a bright pink hue across his cheeks and ears. “Y’heard that, huh? I’m real sorry ‘bout it.”

Blinking lazily, you nod once, waving off his apology. “That an’ everything else.”

Continuing on from a brief pause, you place your second hand on top of his, grounding him, offering him a sense of security and reassurance he didn’t often receive as self appointed protector.

“You saved me.”

The look in your eye expresses deep gratitude and understanding, promising him that you wouldn’t end up like Sarah, that he would never have to endure pain like that ever again.

Not as long as you lived.

“No, baby. You saved me.”

There are many things you’ve saved Joel from, but he leaves them unspoken, because you know, whether or not he’s mentioned it—you know.

“Get some sleep Joel..”

He obeys, sliding under the thick duvet beside you in the bed you shared, unwilling to break the hold of your hands.

[brianquinnlvr]

𝐁𝐅𝐁, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

SUMMARY you've had a crush on your best friends older brother for at least three years now. but he's always been so far out of reach that the thought of the two of you together just sounded wrong to others. for starters, he's three years older than you. and while that isn't a problem now that you're 19 and hes 22, which is not illegal, it was always a problem at the beginning of your crush. another bump in the road happens to be the fact that you're a pogue, and not just any pogue, john b routledge's twin sister. it wasn't necessarily his distaste for pogues though, it was more of a reputation thing. but after a party one night, maybe he can put his reputation aside.

rafe cameron x routledge!silly!reader 💌

au where he's not a murderer and he + sarah have a regular sibling relationship 🫡 also smau, along with irl

warnings: suggestive, slight age gap

series masterlist

you sat at the edge of your bed, scrolling on your phone as you awaited the arrival of the cameron siblings. you'd never been the type to be any form of secretive about a crush, in your eyes, there was other fish in the sea. if you're not madly in love with them, then rejection isn't that big of a deal. but rafe cameron rejecting you would be absolutely humiliating, considering you were so delusional about him that you qualified for a padded white room and possibly even a straight jacket. and well, now that you know he's aware of your crush on him, you are not looking forward to seeing him.

so as you hear the honking of rafe's truck, you jump slightly, pinching the bridge of your nose and exiting your room, making your way into the living room where your brother john b was. "farewell jb." you spoke. he sat up from his spot on the couch, leaning over to look out the window with furrowed eyebrows. "did sarah take rafe's truck?"

you sighed, sliding your converse on. "no, rafe's taking us." you grumbled, pulling on the laces of your shoes and tying them. "this is the only time i've ever dreaded seeing rafe cameron." john b chuckled. "good luck." 

as you stood up and gathered yourself, you turned to the door, calling behind you to your brother as you opened it. "thanks g. be back soon!" you didn't wait for a response as you exited the home. a smile erupted on your face as you made eye contact with sarah through the windsheild of rafe's truck, waving and jogging over to the vehicle.

you climbed in the back seat, sitting in the middle. "hi sar-bear." you said normally, in an effort to put up a front that you didn't care about the whole rafe knowing you like him thing. it wasn't really the fact of him knowing, but more of the fact that you seriously genuinely never had a chance.

but.. now that he knows, whats the harm in flirting? "hey beautiful." you said to rafe, to which he sighed through his nose. "hi yn." he grumbled, putting the car in reverse, his right hand going to the back of the passenger seat to help himself turn around, and god did he look good.

you were going to open your mouth to address his slutty actions, but you decided against it, silently sitting in the back of the truck until you pulled into the parking lot of the mall.

you and sarah unbuckled your seatbelts and began climbing out, ready to thank rafe for the ride but you paused as you noticed him getting out. "what are you doing?" you asked, eyebrows knitted together. he shrugged as you climbed out. "what? thought i was gonna drive all the way here just to drop you off? i need new swimming trunks anyways."

great. just what you needed. not only did you have to have an awkward car ride in the presence of the finest man alive being aware you thought he was the finest man alive, but now he'd be walking around the building with you—or at least you assumed, saying a silent prayer to yourself that he'd wander off alone.

he didn't, though. but he didn't really make his presence unbearable, either. he didn't say much—like at all. he did separate himself once or twice, also never really directly talking to you when he did choose to open his mouth. until sarah saw one of her old friends from highschool, that was. obviously, with you being a pogue, you did not go to the kook academy. so when sarah ran off to greet her friend that you'd never seen a day in your life, you stayed back, sipping on the auntie anne's lemonade with an h&m bag sitting in your hand, along with a bath and body works bag

last week you'd worked overtime at the wreck, so you figured you'd treat yourself with the extra money. though everything was insanely expensive these days, so you didn't get much. "so..." you mumbled at an attempt to break the silence. you were gonna follow up with something about the weather, or whatever it is people like rafe talk about. probably stockmarkets or something. but you couldn't help yourself from flirting just a little. i mean look at him, anyone who can control themselves around rafe cameron has the self control of a literal saint. "be honest, you only came in to be in my presence."

you wanted to say something a little more unsettling like 'hows that dick', but you managed to keep a bit of dignity. obviously you knew he was absolutely not there for you, but you did not expect him to play along. "you caught me." he said, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

you chuckled softly. "it's okay, don't be embarrassed. i'm used to guys being obsessed with me." you continued jokingly, eyes trained on his insanely beautiful face. "oh i'm the obsessed one?" he asked, his buff arms crossed over his chest as he tilted his head slightly, a very slight smirk on his lips now. "cus... if i recall correctly, you're the one who has sexual fantasies about me."

your cheeks burned bright red, not expecting him to bring up the message from earlier. you played it off by rolling your eyes, but it was clear to him that you were embarrassed. it gave him a sense of accomplishment. he couldn't explain it, but making you flustered felt nice in way.

thankfully, sarah walked up before the conversation could go any further and get any more awkward. "hey guys." she said with a smile. "sorry, old friend from highschool. what store next?"

you shrugged, knowing your budget was getting low. "theres a new shop over on the other end of the building. kie went recently, she said i'd love it." sarah smiled, beginning to walk in that direction, noticing the slight blush on your cheeks and the smug state rafe seemed to be in, but she chose to ignore it. "lets go then."

the walk to the shop was short, you and sarah talking about random things while rafe still followed silently behind, his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. the moment you entered the store, you knew you'd be coming back. 

your eyes immediately landed on a pair of dark denim shorts with a pretty floral pattern embroidered on it that reminded you so much of adrianne lenker's album cover for songs and instrumentals. you rushed over to them. "oh my god i need these immediately." you looked at the size, seeing they were your size. "this is fate. hallelujah thank you god." you said in a more humerous manner, going to look at the price tag. your smile faltered a bit as you saw the price tag, and you sighed, placing them back on the shelf. "okay, nevermind, apparently god hates me."

you always struggled with money growing up, but rafe and sarah were apart of one of the richest families on the island. i mean, they lived in the tannyhill mansion for fucks sake. sarah was your best friend, so you knew she'd absolutely never judge you for your financial state being so different from her's, but you were still ashamed of it. you were so different from her in so many ways. and obviously you were even more embarrassed with rafe there, who you'd flirted with a mere 5 minutes ago. it wasn't getting you any closer to getting in his pants, thats for sure.

sarah giggled softly, picking them back up. "it's okay, i'll sugar mama you." she winked. you smiled at her. "well thank you, but i'm not letting you buy me a $32 pair of shorts." she dismissed you with her hand. "don't be silly, yn." sarah reached for her wallet, opening it, and her smile was the next to falter. "shit. i don't have enough cash left and i forgot my card on my desk. i promise i'll come back and get them when my car gets done later."

you were the one dismissing her with your hand now, making a "pssht." sound. "its okay sar, i don't need them. i'm serious. i'll come back and get them when my next paycheck hits." she sighed. "fine. but only because ward put me on a limit until i get a job anyways." 

you chuckled, making your way to the vinyl section of the store, shopping through. you caught a glimpse of rafe in the corner of your eye, unable to resist yourself from looking at him as you turned your head, not even trying to hide the staring. he was standing at the place the three of you just were, seemingly shopping through the woman's clothing right there. 

you sighed, assuming he probably had a girlfriend or something that he was shopping for. rafe absolutely never posted on social media, and he was also never really at any parties or bonfires anymore. he was so mysterious, and it unfortunately made him a million times hotter.

after a moment, you went back to shopping through the vinyls and conversating with sarah about some of the albums you'd found. it wasn't long until you were climbing back into the backseat of rafe's truck with sarah shotgun. once rafe climbed into the drivers seat, instead of immediately turning on the car like you'd expected, he turned to you and handed you a bag from the store earlier. you furrowed your eyebrows, grabbing the bag cautiously. "whats this?" 

he turned back and started the car, beginning to drive. "i bought you the shorts. now you don't have to spend your next paycheck on them." he shot you a smile through the rear-view mirror then just went on about his day. "well thank you." you said softly, looking inside of the bag. "hot and thoughtful. how am i your only current bitch? against your will, too."

he rolled his eyes, but you could see the small hint of a smile on his face. it was like he was purposely trying to make himself look more boyfriend material than he already did.

v speaks: hi this was lowkkkkk ass but its just cus its an intro part i'm sorry like i have nothing from a previous part to build off of or anything💔 ill be better #swear also im shaking in my boots i havent published any writing since 2023

[potato-lord-but-not]

Holy Ghosts plotline where the two go back to Harper’s Hill and Noel has to confront the life and people he left behind and come to terms with the fact that the only person Charlie Dowd is dead to is himself????

In other words- PotatoLord Lily designed just dropped

also some ramblings + some doodles about this plotline under cut

OK SO - for the sake of the holy ghosts lore, Anna lived outside of Harper’s Hill for longer than in her canon lore, and she kept in touch with the group after leaving for Arkham. Lily, Noel, and Charlie were all childhood best friends, with Anna joining their group in their early teens. As fresh new adults Noel and Charlie became law enforcement, Lily became a nurse, and Anna moved out of town. Charlie and Noel were drafted, only Charlie came back, and he didn’t stay for long. After establishing himself in Arkham with Roland, he wrote Lily often, and visited Anna when he could.

I still gotta get my head straight around the like. canon happenings after that. but just know I’m cooking ok-

for the holy ghosts plot, I’m thinking that after Charlie’s dad passed when he was still in the dreamlands, all of Charlie’s old belongings (that were moved out of the office in Arkham) were given to Lily. Oscar suggested they needed more information about these supernatural creatures, and suggested they look for Charlie and Roland’s old notes and the like. Charlie catches wind of their whereabouts, and the two plan to get his stuff and leave without drawing any attention.

From there I’m not entirely sure how I want things to unfold, but just know Lily definitely finds out he’s alive and hadn’t bothered to tell her. Between Charlie having to explain where he’s been the past decade, why he never reached out even when he did make it back, and Anna unfairly blaming him for Sarah dying- our man is not having a good time. and Oscar’s over there like man you used to live here???

anyway ty for hearing me out here’s a Noel Finley and the gang as youngsters :3

[nadvs]

home before dark (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, eventual smut, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

You’ve been looking at your reflection for five minutes now, eyes rimmed red from crying. Muffled, bass-heavy music is echoing from the front of the house.

You’ll do anything to delay going back out there. Even if it means standing still in the bathroom, trying and failing to stop tears.

Parties at Tannyhill always bring in massive crowds, yet your ex-boyfriend still managed to find you in the sea of people. You slipped away and have been hiding since, the anxiety of seeing him again crushing you.

Thankfully, you know your way around the estate. It was once like your second home.

As an only child, you latched onto the Cameron siblings the second you met them. You had just moved to Kildare, your dad having been an old college friend of Ward’s.

You practically grew up with them. You’re still close with Sarah. And even though Wheezie was only four when they lost their mother, she seems to find comfort in you always being around.

But your once best friend, who you’re merely weeks apart from in age, was transformed by the grief. Rafe is a stranger now. And you can tell that he loathes being around you.

When the door is roughly pushed open, the knob slamming against the wall, your heart lurches, overtaken by the sharp fear that Ty has found you.

But it’s Rafe, his hair hanging over his forehead and his nose dripping with blood, shattering your solitude.

He meets your eyes for just a second and looks away as soon as he sees it’s you. Like always. He never makes eye contact with you for very long.

“You’re bleeding,” you say quietly.

“No shit,” he mutters.

He barges past you to the sink, spitting crimson blood onto the porcelain. He’s hunched over the counter, panting, pissed off that you’re still standing there. Still lingering.

You’re always around. A constant reminder.

“Do you need help?” you ask, but you step back, your actions mismatching your words. You put distance between you for his comfort. Not yours.

“No.” His head is in splitting pain. He hasn’t accepted help in years and he’s not starting now.

This is how your conversations with him always go. You extend an olive branch. He snaps it in half.

You were both ten years old when the sweet boy you knew started hating the world and everyone in it. You had a front row seat to the tragedy that broke Rafe Cameron, a mama’s boy who suddenly lost the person he loved most.

But no matter what he does or says to you, you can’t hate Rafe back. After the accident that took his mother’s life, the compassion you harbor for him won’t let you.

While you definitely don’t like the person he’s become, a man so cold and aggressive, you couldn’t hate him if you tried.

You look at your reflections, side by side. You were once kids playing on the beach together, but in the mirror stands a bloodied cokehead next to a tearful mess, living in another summer of seeing each other everywhere and never speaking.

If it were up to you, it wouldn’t be like this. You’d still be friends. But he has his group of buddies who he drinks and smokes with and to him, they’re enough and you’re not.

Rafe looks up from his contorted position, the water rushing out of the faucet loudly. Frustration rises in him when he sees your silhouette in the mirror. He focuses on the edge of the sink, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You’re still here?” he snaps.

You’re used to the disheartening sight of a high and injured Rafe. He snorts lines and brawls at almost every party. Everyone calls him a psycho behind his back.

You want to ask what happened, but you know he’ll brush you off like he always does. You leave the room, determined to escape the party and go home. It’s past midnight anyway.

You’re nearly out the front door when frigid fingers wrap around your forearm. Your blood runs cold as you twist to see Ty, his eyes fixed on you.

“Did you block me?” he asks, the smile that once charmed you now making you sick. You look around at the crowds of partygoers as if someone can save you.

He’s still refusing to accept that you broke up with him a week ago. It was annoying at first. But now, it’s scary. He won’t leave you alone.

He texted you so many times over the last few days, going back and forth between calling you a waste of time and apologizing and begging to see you, that you had to block him.

After a few months together, you realized he wasn’t as nice of a person as he liked to pretend to be. Slowly, who he really is seeped in, unveiling a cruel and controlling brute.

“Of course I did,” you say. “I told you to stop texting me. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Ty scoffs. “It can’t just be over.”

“Yes, it can,” you say, straining out of his grip. You had told him over and over that if he wasn’t going to stop disrespecting you, you’d leave. He kept apologizing, saying every outburst was a one-time thing, just to put you through the same pain again.

“Are you going home?” he asks.

You wish he didn’t know that your parents are on a business trip and will be gone for the next couple of weeks. Regrettably, he’s aware you’ll be sleeping in an empty house for the next while.

“No,” you lie.

“Then let’s get a drink and talk about this,” he says sternly. “Unless you’re with some other guy now and that’s why you tried to break up with me?”

Could that be the only way he’ll leave you alone? You try not to shrink under his gaze, a heartless, eerie abyss. The fact that he says you tried to break up with him tells you he still isn’t accepting that the relationship is over.

“I broke up with you because you treated me like shit,” you say. Your heartbeat is loud and your breaths are shallow and in a split second, you decide to lie as an act of survival. “But yeah, I am with someone else now.”

Rafe turns off the faucet, heart racing from the coke and the adrenaline of winning a fight. It all started because some guy looked at him wrong. That was enough for Rafe to start swinging.

Admittedly, letting out his aggression is a thrill. It’s his comfort zone. When he surrounds himself with chaos, it distracts him from the voices howling in his mind.

Life is nothing but a sick game of tag, and he’s been running away from reality and towards disorder for years.

Rafe’s nose is still throbbing from the only punch the other guy managed to get in when he heads back into the throws of the party.

He’s filling up a solo cup in the dining room when your eyes meet his. He can’t look away this time. You’re rushing towards him, fear written into your features.

Once you hastily close the distance, leaving mere inches between you, Rafe can see you’ve been crying.

“Hey,” you say over the music, overwhelmingly grateful that you finally found him after frantically rippling through the crowds. “Can you help me? Please?”

Maybe it’s because of the desperation in your glossy eyes. Or because you both once knew how to make the other feel better. Or because you chose him to help, when he’s used to never being chosen by anyone for anything. But he decides to hear you out.

“What?” he mutters, hollow blue eyes searching your face. Rafe’s brooding, all cleaned up now, the blood wiped away.

You look over your shoulder, your chest rising and falling at full tilt, then face him again.

“My ex is following me,” you say. “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“What?” Rafe’s mouth is twined in irritation. Of all the guys to use to make your ex jealous, you pick him?

“Rafe, please,” you say hurriedly.

You turn to see Ty, his eyebrows raised in clear surprise. After you talked to him by the front door, you rushed away, feeling his looming presence trailing after you.

You face your ex, standing beside Rafe with your hand curling around his hard bicep, finding unexpected relief in holding him. It’s jarring touching him after years of distance.

Rafe can’t remember the last time he was touched like this. It’s like a reprieve from the rush he’s always in, slowing him down.

Ty shoves his way through groups of people, his face carved with anger.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he shouts over the music, eyes darting between you two. Rafe recognizes him. He’s seen you together at parties and the country club. This guy is just another Kook who gets shit-faced every chance he gets.

“Leave me alone, Ty,” you say.

“You’re with him?” he mutters with a laugh.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, tone shaky, praying Rafe plays along. He catches the brittle waver in your words.

“You can’t be serious,” Ty says. “That was fast.”

He steps forward and you find yourself cowering behind Rafe, who instinctually straightens up.

When Rafe realizes your hand is trembling, something in him twists. You’re not trying to make this guy jealous. You’re afraid of him.

Even after the years of hostility between you, somehow, you uncover a soft spot that Rafe didn’t know he had. He hates that this asshole is scaring you.

“Get out,” Rafe says to your ex, his deep voice sending relief through you.

Ty’s eyes dart to Rafe before his gaze is on you again.

“Really?” he ridicules you. “The guy you always call a psycho?”

Rafe’s arm flexes beneath your hand.

It’s a lie. People talk shit about Rafe, but you have never uttered a bad word about him to anyone.

“I never said that,” you retaliate.

“Just come outside so we can talk,” Ty says, his voice dripping with anger.

“Whose fucking house do you think this is, bitch?” Rafe shouts, roughly shoving Ty’s shoulder. “I told you to get out.”

You see fear on your ex’s face for the first time in your life. Your instincts were right to push you to run to Rafe. Everyone’s afraid of him.

“Chill,” Ty says with a forced smile, palms up in surrender. You’re sure he’s thinking of all the brawls he’s witnessed at these parties. Rafe might get roughed up, but he hardly ever loses a fight.

“Go,” Rafe sneers.

“I - I am,” Ty stammers. He meets your gaze one last time before he flees, his lips thinning in anger. Dread surges through you. You can tell you’re not rid of him.

Awkward tension settles between you and Rafe. He turns to look down at you, eyes flitting to your hand still on his arm. You let go.

Of the entire fervid exchange, what blares in your mind the loudest is Ty’s lie.

“I never said that about you,” you say.

Rafe scoffs. He figures it’s better to be feared, to be seen as a psycho, instead of the loser he knows he is.

“I don’t give a shit,” Rafe mutters, although, for whatever reason, he feels a piece of him caring what you think about him. He shifts to continue filling his cup with beer, pissed off and disoriented.

“He lied,” you tell him, stepping to the side to meet Rafe’s eyes again. You need him to know.

“Got it,” he says carelessly. He dips his head back as he downs his drink.

“Listen, I’m sorry to drag you into this, okay?” you say. “I don’t know what to do. He won’t leave me alone.”

He stills. Talking to you is hard. The fact that you’re still kind to him makes it harder.

But you’re so clearly terrified. Maybe he owes this to you. Everyone else wrote him off, but you, for whatever reason, still treat him with a gentleness he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“If he bothers you again…” Rafe says. He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you don’t need him to. This is his way of telling you he’ll protect you.

You stare at his hardened features. You always felt like you grew up with Rafe from a distance. You know him in snapshots.

The ten-year-old who made small footprints next to yours in the sand. The seventh grader who got into so many fights that rumors of expulsion circulated around school. The high schooler who didn’t care to hide that he was doing lines at every party.

And now, he’s the man towering over you, drugged up, throwing punches every chance he gets, agreeing to pretend to be your boyfriend.

The fact that he’s willing to put on this charade for your safety makes you think that maybe there is a soft part of Rafe left somewhere deep inside. A part of the boy he once was.

“Thank you,” you say. You’re sure he won’t want to carry on the conversation, so you step away before he takes back his offer.

You find Sarah and ask if you can crash in her room tonight, knowing she’ll say yes. The thought of going to your empty house is too daunting.

The next morning, you’re sitting in the large kitchen of the Camerons’ estate, wearing last night’s clothes. You stare out the window, wishing your anxiety didn’t keep you awake last night.

You slept a couple of broken hours next to Sarah, thoughts of your ex and what he might be capable of rushing through your mind.

You’re not sure what to do next. In a normal world, you’d spend your summer partying and having fun with friends and enjoying your lack of a schedule. But things aren’t normal right now.

You’re desperate to shower and get into clean clothes and simply exist in the comfort of your home.

When Rafe sees you sitting in the kitchen, sunlight spilling over the planes of your face, he does something he never saw himself doing again. He approaches you, instead of running away.

Footsteps pull you out of your daze. You meet Rafe’s tired eyes. He doesn’t look away this time and it makes hope bloom in your chest.

He settles on the other side of the table, across from you, tensely raking his hair back. He doesn’t say anything, words trapped in his throat.

“You’re up early,” you say to break the silence.

Last night was one of many sleepovers you’ve had here. Even though you and Rafe don’t speak much, you’ve puttered around the house enough to have noticed his habits, one of them being that he typically wakes up well into the afternoon the day after a party.

But Rafe wants to cut through the bullshit of small talk. He can’t get how scared you looked last night out of his head. And he won’t admit that it’s the reason he wasn’t able to fall back asleep when the brightness of the sun woke him up this morning.

“Did he ever put his hands on you?” he finally asks, voice low. He braces himself for the answer. He doesn’t know how he’ll take it if you were getting hurt while he was always close by, ignoring you.

“No,” you say. The thought sends a chill through you. “He got… mean. And controlling. Or I guess he was always like that, but he hid it at the beginning. Maybe he would’ve eventually started hurting me. I don’t know.”

Rafe clenches his fist beneath the table. It may be hypocritical to be so angry at another man for being cruel to you when all he’s done for years is end every conversation you’ve tried to start with him. But Rafe has never claimed to reasonable.

“And he won’t leave you alone?” he recalls.

You shake your head no. Silence nestles between you, but this time, it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable.

Rafe’s eyes finds yours again, a shade of blue you can’t forget no matter how many times he’s averted his gaze.

“You scared of him?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you admit. The way your voice weakens puts Rafe even more on edge.

“You don’t have to be anymore,” he says. You exhale slowly, enveloped by a sense of security that you haven’t felt in a long time.

“He looked afraid last night,” you tell him. “When you pushed him, I mean. I’ve never seen him look like that.”

At least his anger was put to good use, Rafe thinks. It was actually worth something for once.

“Give me your phone,” he says.

You obey and watch him add himself into your contacts, a harsh reminder of the lack of a presence you have in his life. You don’t even have each other’s numbers. He texts himself your name.

“Call me if he bothers you,” he says. His promise to watch out for you is like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, comforting you.

“Okay. Thank you.”

You realize this is the longest conversation you’ve held with him since before his mother passed. The day you heard the news, you came to this very house to offer your condolences.

You had knocked on Rafe’s closed bedroom door, telling him it was you and not his father, who you’d only seen be cruel to his eldest child.

Through the door, you promised him you’d do whatever he wanted. Cry together. Go down by the water. Talk. Or even just sit in silence. But all a ten-year-old Rafe offered you was a tearful go away, followed by years of avoiding you and brushing you off.

He hands back your phone and stands, walking away from you.

“Rafe?”

He turns to face you again, his hand on the kitchen counter.

“Could you follow me home?” you ask. “My parents are away and he knows it and… I just want to be sure he’s not waiting for me there.”

Rafe nods. You give him a grateful smile. He can’t return it.

Minutes later, his motorcycle roars as he tails your car down the street. Your house is only two blocks away from his. He couldn’t forget the way if he tried.

He visited your home with his family a few times as a kid, but most of your friendship was spent on the private beach behind his house, running around in the sand, your childish laughs tangling together in the salty air.

You used to bike to his house almost every summer day. He’d meet you by your gate, smiling so big his cheeks hurt, racing on your bikes to his house together. He would accompany you on the way back home, too, always making sure you got home before dark.

He realizes he always felt like he needed to watch out for you, even when he was just a scrawny ten-year-old.

Over the school year, you spent every recess together. Kids used to tease you about liking each other and he loved that you didn’t care because it made him feel like maybe you had a crush on him, too.

You two were inseparable. Until you weren’t.

Rafe tries not to think about it. This is exactly why he shut you out. You remind him too much of the last time he was happy. Before life became unbearable and before he was left with the parent who doesn’t love him.

Thinking about those days feels like trying to fall back asleep into a good dream, all while knowing he’ll plummet into a nightmare.

You pull into your driveway after getting through the remote-powered gate, parking right in front of the door. Rafe parks behind you, killing the engine and taking his helmet off.

He watches you step out of your car. You shield your eyes with your hand as you look at him, perched on his motorcycle in the bright morning sun, his helmet in his hands.

“I didn’t see his car on the street,” you say. “But I’m gonna make sure that the security system is armed.”

Rafe follows, stopping a few feet away from you as you unlock the door, on edge and ready to strike if he needs to.

You’re relieved to hear the familiar beeping that confirms the system is active and wasn’t triggered since the last time you were home. Rafe watches you disappear into the house to punch the code in.

“All good,” you say when you step back out through the front door. You face him as he stands on your doorstep, your chin tipped up to gaze at him.

“You said your parents aren’t here?” he asks. He’s frustrated that you’re alone.

“Away for work,” you say with a defeated shrug. You wish you’d broken up with Ty sooner so they’d be close by during all this stress. “Some things never change.”

Rafe looks down and nods. He remembers how often your parents travelled, leaving you with his family or babysitters while they were away.

Birds chirp in the warm air surrounding you. You stare at Rafe now that you have the opportunity to, up close. There are some freckles and beauty spots you remember. Some that you don’t.

He’s strikingly handsome and you wonder if he knows it. If anyone has ever told him.

“Alright,” Rafe says, stepping back, his way of saying goodbye. He doesn’t look at you again as he paces away.

His mother used to have to call you both into the house multiple times to eat lunch when you’d play on the beach together. You’d have so much fun that you didn’t want to do anything to interrupt it.

But these days, Rafe can hardly wait to get away from you. And even though it’s comforting having him watching out for you, having a string tying you to him again, you wish his coldness didn’t still hurt as much as it does.

(part two)

author’s note thank you to @rafedaddy01 for this idea @diorjadore for this idea!!! ILYSM!!!

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[blueheron15]

can you do a jj x gf!reader where they're at a party at the boneyard w the other pogues but then they sneak off to makeout and they come back butttttt he had a red slushy and she had a blue slushy and they come back with purple mouths so everyone knows what they got up to

RED + BLUE

pairing: bf!jj x gf!reader

summary: you and jj sneak off to make out, forgetting about the slushees you had drank earlier…

warnings: swearing

a/n: this is sooo jj coded, ty anon!

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

jj just couldn’t help himself! you looked absolutely irresistible at the kegger, in your illegally short shorts and tank top. you definitely weren’t wearing a bra which drove jj crazy.

so much so, that he pulled you away from where you were talking with some nice touron girls (and maybe a few guys which def did not make jj insanely jealous) to make out against a tree.

he held you up against the bark, your legs wrapped around his back as he nuzzled his face into your neck, sucking a hickey into your skin.

“mmmm, jj” you said, or moaned. “we should g-go back. they’re gonna notice.”

“don’t care” he grunted, flicking a thumb over your hard nipple.

you moaned and let him play with you for a little bit longer. “seriously jay” you mumbled, tongues swirling together.

he huffed. he couldn’t say no to you. “fine.” he pouted, lowering you to your feet. “but you’re gunna make it up to me later.” he said, pointing a finger at you.

you leaned in and playfully bit it. he wrapped his arms around your waist, forcing your back and his chest to meet as he walked behind you. you shimmied your ass back into his erection and his steps faltered.

“oh, you’re gonna get it-“

“yo!” john b called, seeing the two of you make your way back to the beach.

“sup” jj greeted, dipping his chin.

“y’all are disgusting.” kie said, distaste evident in her tone.

“what?” you asked, subconsciously raising a hand to your face.

pope could barely contain his chuckle.

“dude, what?” jj snapped.

“uhhh.” sarah giggled. “do red and blue slushies ring a bell?”

fuck! you cursed internally. whipping your phone out of your pocket, and opening your camera. you held it up to you and jj’s faces.

both of your lips were purple.

“oh my god!” you squeaked in embarrassment. you completely forgot your trip to 7/11 before the kegger!

“it’s alright, baby.” jj chuckled, patting your hip. he leant down to whisper gruffly in your ear. “let’s go finish what we started.”

you heard the rest of the pogues scream “ew!!!” as you and jj ran off, back to the tree.

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

[2tarbell]

https://www.tumblr.com/2tarbell/756490945730576384/hiiiiiiiiiiii-my-loves-talk-2-me-plzz-and-i

hiii been thinking about bfb w rafe tonight… sleepovers at sarah’s with kie (& omg bonus points if reader is in the pogue friend group i can never get enough pogue reader + rafe content) where he’s kinda perving on reader but she’s kinda into it (oh no she must’ve left her panties at sarah’s house!!! whatever is a girl to do sigh)… she’s all giggly n blushy n flirty n shit when she runs into rafe late at night while getting some water from the kitchen, making sarah and kie wonder what could possibly be taking her so long?

maybe they start texting, out of convenience obviously of course being his little sisters best friend and all, and then maybe it turns into sexting, until rafe can’t take it anymore and some sensually filthy smut happens🥰 you can decide the rest if you choose to write this but either way ty for listening to me horny ramblingxhxhjd

ೀ

SURE OF IT

warnings! best friends brother, pogue!reader, sweetheart!reader, maybe ditzy!reader, rafe is kinda chill? i guess?, mention of weed, reader and rafe are pervs, fingering, pinv smut, unprotected sex, car sex, daddy kink, dom!rafe, slapping, choking, lmk if i missed anything :)

your best friends brother is the one for you. (3.3K words, fic, © 2tarbell 2024)

“—and rafe is somewhere upstairs— i know, but we can just ignore him—”

as if.

the beating of your heart picked up at the mention of the eldest cameron.

a small, wicked part of you hoped he would make an appearance. hoped he would taunt and tease you in that deep voice that haunted every single one of your wet dreams.

sarah and kie couldn’t know that, of course.

so you made a show of pursing your lips in distaste, sharing a look with kiara that you prayed didn’t say “i actually wanna fuck him”.

it wasn’t as if you had this crush on him outta nowhere.

no, your best friends brother wanted you just as much. you were sure of it.

as you walked further into the large home with sarah and kiara, you felt a pleasant nervousness settle in your tummy.

you stood straighter as soon as the three of you turned a corner and crossed paths with the man himself. your heart flipped and stomached tighten with arousal.

rafe stood there with his hands in his pockets, obviously not expecting to see any of you.

biting back your smile was hard as you looked up at him. his eyes were narrowed, brows drawn together that mirrored the small pout on his lips.

“the fuck kinda pogue convention is this—?”

“shut up and leave us alone,” sarah was quick to cut him off, moving past him with a shove of her shoulder against his. kiara smirked and pulled you along.

following after your friends like an obedient little puppy was second nature to you. but you stopped a few steps behind, dropping kiara’s hand casually.

you smiled as you looked over your shoulder at rafe. batting your eyelashes and and biting your glossy bottom lip.

“hi, rafey,” your voice was sugary sweet.

a singular brow raised, his gaze softening just so.

“uh— yeah, hi.”

you only giggled softly at his annoyed tone before skimping off to catch up with your girls once you heard kie call for you. missing the way his eyes lingered on your form, taking in the length of your legs and where they disappeared beneath your hand-me-down babydoll dress.

he almost choked when he saw the hem of your dress inch up just enough to catch a glimpse of the bottom of your ass cheeks.

rafe raked a hand through his hair and continued his way through the house, now an uncomfortable tightness in his khakis.

and if he hurried off to a bathroom to jerk off, that was nobodies business but his own.

you couldn’t sleep, no matter what you tried.

counting sheep like jj had taught you to one time, singing a song in your head, nothing was working.

you could only blame it on the dampness in your panties. the white lace stuck to your skin and caused you to shift around on the makeshift blanket bed uncomfortably.

since briefly seeing rafe earlier, your thoughts were caught up entirely in the interaction.

you played it back constantly and found yourself smiling and squeezing your thighs together anew.

thank god you had convinced the girls to let you sleep on the floor — you bit your lip as you slid off your shorts and panties. you balled up the lacey garment and stuffed it in the pocket of your sleep shorts once you had pulled them back up your legs.

you had a plan.

you tiptoed to the door, looking back once before you were gone down the hallway and steps. you saw light from under rafe’s door, and you smiled to yourself. before long, you found yourself in the kitchen.

maybe a glass of water would calm you down enough to sleep — where did they keep the glasses again?

cabinets opened and shut as quietly as you could manage, fearing waking anyone up, but making just enough noise.

just as you were beginning to run out of faith for water and your plan, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

you’ve never snapped your head around so quickly, it’s a surprise it didn’t just keep rolling and onto the floor.

“oh my god—!”

the squeak you let out caused rafe to smirk. he quickly gave your body a once over — heat rushing to his abdomen at the sight of your pebbled nipples peeking through the thin sleep shirt you wore.

one of your dainty hands clutched your chest, trying to will your heart to settle. a giggle bubbled up your throat.

“rafe! don’t scare me like that…”

he chuckled breathlessly. a sound that made your pulse quicken even more.

“what’re you snoopin’ around for, huh?” he mumbled, voice gravelly from being unused.

you looked cute — hair fluffed up and feet clad in stripped socks. cute in a way that made him wanna bend you over the counter and take you right there, middle of the night be damned.

“hmm? oh, jus’— wanted a drink…” you hum, turning and opening the cabinet.

“oh, so y’not just being nosey?”

“and what if i am?”

“i’d say you know better, sweetheart.”

his use of the pet name made you feel faint. you set the cup down next to you on the counter.

you weren’t a stranger to being called that. or anything like it.

the pogue boys often referred to you as such, patronizing in a way. but you never thought it could sound so good. never cared for it until now.

“it’s such a maze in here…” you changed the subject, leaning back against the counter. crossing your arms in a way that you knew made your breasts bulge.

you didn’t miss the quick glance down from rafe. or the harsh swallow.

“yeah? wouldn’t expect you to know anything ‘bout a house like this.”

he was teasing you. outrightly poking fun at the main difference between you both. kook and pogue.

you cocked your head at his words, batting your eyelashes, “c’mon, don’t be mean…”

he smiled and you felt hot all over.

desire completely flushed out any rage and embarrassment. you watched with bated breath as he adjusted his stance and tongued the inside of his cheek.

“did i lie?”

“… yes.”

he scoffed and leaned back against the counter opposite you. the mere feet between you both was charged with sparks.

the way he said your name in that playful, commanding tone had shivers going down your spine. his eyes freezing you in place.

“y’too pretty to be playin’ stupid like that.”

you bit your lip and smiled, “you think ‘m pretty?”

rafe bounced around for a response, trying to seem cool and collected.

suddenly you were all too aware of the stickiness between your thighs. all too aware of sarah and kiara sleeping upstairs. all too aware of the panties you stashed in your pocket.

you smirked and pushed off the counter.

“goodnight, rafe…”

he didn’t say anything as you walked off out of the kitchen, but you heard an intake of breath when you dropped the underwear out of your pocket.

you stopped in your tracks when you heard him choke out your name.

“hmm?”

sparkling eyes and a pretty smile made rafe forget all semblance of how to act.

after all, he was a selfish man.

“nothin’, uh— night, kid.”

too easy.

you hurried back up the stairs, looking over the banister and watching as he bent down and picked up your panties.

a moan threatened to slip past your lips when he brought them up to his face and smelled them.

needless to say, neither of you got any sleep that night.

rafe was losing his mind. he had to be.

what other explanation was there for him to have fisted his cock all night with your panties? painting his hand over and over and it still not feeling like enough.

he was embarrassed, yes, but he also wanted more. he wanted you.

it felt like divine intervention when he phone buzzed and your name popped up on his screen.

—

hiii

sent at 7:48 pm

—

he had been thinking about you all day, completely in his head.

anger and arousal fighting for dominance. it seemed arousal always came out on top.

—

What do you want

sent at 7:50 pm

—

rafe knew he was fucked when he actually felt bad for being short with you.

he scrolled back up through your previous messages. they were all innocent — you simply asking him to open the front door or even begging him to get you and the girls some weed.

he doesn’t know exactly when things changed, when you changed.

bzzz!

—

can u give me a ride :C sarah said she can’t

sent at 7:51 pm

Where you at

sent at 7:51 pm

—

yeah, rafe was thoroughly fucked.

but he really didn’t care anymore as he grabbed his keys off his nightstand and and shoved his feet into some shoes.

he couldn’t stand it anymore. and as he pulled out of the driveway, he knew something had to give.

“you’re a lifesaver, rafey.”

he only hummed in response, putting his truck in reverse and driving out of your quaint little workplaces parking lot.

some dumb pogue flower shop. rafe really didn’t give a shit if he was honest.

he stole glances at you in his passenger seat, looking so perfect and pretty. like you belonged there, belonged next to him.

he could feel himself start to grow hard in his pants when you crossed one leg over the other. the plush of your thighs looking oh-so inviting.

you smiled at him, and rafe rolled his eyes, looking back at the road ahead.

“what?”

“hmm? i can’t look at you?” you teased.

the scoff he let out made you wanna laugh, so you did. a sweet sound that often drove him insane.

and looked at him you did. eyes taking in every inch of exposed bicep that was peeking out from his polo. his skin was tanned from the summer sun and you found yourself wondering what it would look like with your lipstick all over it.

he grit his teeth, setting his jaw.

“y’know i— you’re not— you’re not slick,” the words fell from his mouth in a grumble.

“what—?”

you felt a rush of adrenaline when he pulled the familiar white lace out of his pocket and threw it onto your lap.

before you could question further, rafe pulled the truck to the side of the road. it was hidden between two trees, the setting sun helping to conceal it.

“y’think this shit is funny?” his voice was rough and you were unsure if the question was rhetorical. you stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

it was tense and you couldn’t move. just stared at him blankly.

“i didn’t think that—“

“nah, you didn’t think, did you?”

“i’m— i—“

you didn’t know what to say or do. the last thing you expected was to be scolded by him. confronted by your own actions. but you couldn’t suppress the wave of need that surged through you.

“you— you want me? you want this?” he mumbled, eyes flickering between yours.

the question made you flush again. never in a million years did you think it would end up like this. that you would actually have him. your answer felt obvious.

“mhm.”

“words.” his command made you melt.

“yeah, yes, please,” you breathed and watched as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

rafe grasped your jaw and pushed his thumb into your mouth, feeling the warm muscle of your tongue wet against his skin. you responded eagerly, sucking on the digit.

“a’ight. then get in the fucking back.”

you registered to click of your own seatbelt and blinked as he reached past you and pushed open the door.

his thumb left your mouth with a pop and he pushed your face away, that mean way that you had always dreamt about. you had half a mind to do anything but what he told you to.

before you knew it, you were on your back and sprawled in the backseat with rafe on top of you. his hand shoved up your skirt, knuckle tortuously rubbing up and down against your panty clad clit.

you were a mess already.

rafe spent at least ten minutes grumbling about how much of a tease you were. detailing every time he just wanted to grab you and fuck you senseless. he made fun of you, of your slickness and delicate (although cheap) panties that were damp by your arousal.

he mocked you as you whined, but let you press pink lips up his arm. the kiss marks looking just as delicious as you thought.

despite the dirty talk and his hand now around your throat, he had yet to kiss you. you watched his mouth form words but you could hardly hear anymore, desperate for more. for anything he would give you.

“hey, hey, ‘m talkin’ to you. dumb fucking girl—“

his palm lightly connected with your cheek, the slight sting bringing a dazed smile to your lips.

rafe chuckled at the already fucked out expression on your face. he’d hardly done anything yet and you were already melted beneath him.

too fucking easy.

his voiced cooed lowly, squeezing your throat tighter, “c’mon, sweetheart. focus, yeah? can you do that f’me?”

you were nodding before he even finished speaking, hips rolling up against his hand as he pushed your panties to the side.

“kiss me? need it, please— need you, rafe—“

the harsh slap against your weeping cunt makes your eyes flutter and a gasping moan is drawn from your lips. you watch with an agape mouth as rafe leans down closer, lips just inches from yours.

“s’not my name, is it?” he tuts.

no fucking way.

you’re breathing heavily against his lips. chest heaving and hands grasping at the front of his shirt.

you knew what he wanted you to say. and you wanted it just as bad.

“daddy, daddy, please—“

that soft plea was all it took for him to lean in and close the gap between you. he devoured your mouth eagerly, parting your lips with his own.

you welcomed his tongue into your mouth, feeling it twist and swirl around yours. you did your best to keep up, but his fingers had started to rub circles against your clit. you were completely gone when he slid a finger in.

“y’got such a needy little pussy, huh? sucking my finger so tight—“

the way he mumbled against your lips would haunt you. he began curling his finger inside of you, searching for that spongey patch that would cause you to see stars.

once he found it, you couldn’t focus on kissing him back anymore. you sat open mouthed, soft sighs and bucking hips spurring him on.

“there it is— gooood girl. c’mon, gimme one and i’ll fuck you like you need,” he rasped out, sliding in a second finger.

the want you felt was unlike anything else. it didn’t take long to have you writhing helplessly beneath him. a half hearted warning of your impending release only making him devilishly smile.

you were brainless by the time he removed his hand and brought glistening fingers to your lips. it was second nature to let your mouth fall open and suckle his large fingers.

the trance only ended when you heard the clinking buckle of his belt. rafe pushed your knees against your chest, not before pulling the neckline of your tank top down to let your tits spill out. (“perfect fuckin’ tits. knew they’d be so gorgeous…”)

your hands pushed up his shirt, needing to see his toned chest. rafe pulled it over his head with one hand, the action alone could’ve made you cum again.

“gonna be a good girl and take it all?”

his words were emphasized by the head of his cock slotting between your folds. the sensation of his tip bumping against your swollen clit making you flinch.

he didn’t move until you spoke, words coming out rushed and slurred from arousal, “mhm, yeah, yeah—“

feeling him push into you made you see stars. he held your gaze and you watched as his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth dropping into a low moan. he was so unfairly attractive.

once he bottomed out, you knew he ruined your pussy for anyone else. never had you felt so full. every vein and ridge of his dick suctioned by your gummy walls.

“nnngghh— ohmygod—“ you gasped out, feeling unable to breath as he spilt you in half.

rafe was unbelievably deep. his hips pressed right up against yours. he was watching as he disappeared into you, glazed over eyes as you arched your back off the seats.

his voice was strained, “s’pretty like this. taking me so well.”

you couldn’t make coherent sentences, you felt felt him everywhere. the way he had your knees pressed against your chest allowed him to slide in and out somehow deeper each time.

“i can’t— can’t— nnnngghhh—“ the sounds you were making sounded like sobs.

“yeah— yes, you can, baby. doing so well, letting me ruin this pretty cunt…”

rafe reached a hand down and pressed on your lower stomach. the pressure allowed for more stimulation of your g-spot but also allowed him to feel his cock thrusting in and out.

he took your hand and placed it, holding it against your abdomen with his. you choked at the feeling.

“feel that? that’s me. that’s daddy fuckin’ you stupid, yeah?”

“jesus fucking christ—“

rafe breathed out a laugh at your curse. you were becoming less and less coherent as he fucked you, your eyes threatening to roll back when his thumb found your clit again.

he slapped you again, urging your eyes back on him. “nuh-uh, look at me, kid, there ya go—“

tears flooded down your cheeks as his hips slapped against yours with more fervor. it was too much, your body was aching for release.

he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. the warmth of his mouth made you start rocking your hips to meet his. rafe groaned and increased his pace, the sticky wet sounds filling the truck.

it was sloppy and messy, you were almost embarrassed at how wet you were. rafe didn’t care though, not when he was finally claiming the girl he’s wanted for so long.

“mmf— y’gonna cum on this cock? gimme that shit, c’mon—“

you didn’t need another invitation. you were creaming on his pulsing length in seconds, hot white blinding your vision and a pleasant fuzziness blocking out your senses.

the warmth of his release made you shudder as he shallowly fucked into you with low groans that curled up into whines. his own orgasm made his rhythm stutter. he collapsed onto you in a sweaty heap.

neither of you spoke for a few moments, caught up in an intimate quiet that seemed so fragile. rafe littered kisses across your neck and collarbone. his touch soft in a way you’d never expect. you scratched his scalp with your painted nails, feeling a rush of affection when he practically purred.

finally you whispered, “are you… mad at me?”

his head snapped up, questioning and lingering lust clouding his blue eyes. he brought a hand up and brushed hair away from your face.

“no, ‘m not mad. never was…” he mumbled hoarsely.

the relief was visible in your tired features. rafe felt a pang of something in his chest… guilt? longing?

“do you… i mean… what just happened?” you asked dumbly, feeling the weight of confusion settling in your bones.

he shushed you, pressing his lips to yours so tenderly, it felt unreal. a stark contrast to the heated encounter you two just shared.

“lemme… take you out?”

the question felt foreign on his lips, a soft tone he never really used.

but your smile was radiant.

rafe felt stupid for not asking sooner if it meant he got to see that reaction. you nuzzled his nose with yours gently.

he huffed, feeling himself grow mushy under your adoring gaze. you just giggled in that precious way that made him feel weak. nodding eagerly and wrapping your arms around his neck.

your best friends brother was the one for you. you were sure of it.

© 2tarbell 2024

[avenging-fandoms]

The Beach - John B Routledge

Summary: You're new to the Pogues, you've been with them for over a year. Sarah and John B have been broken up for a little bit after he found out she cheated, and you hadn't had a boyfriend since you left Rafe on the boat. He takes you and his friends to the beach- only to run into your ex and his friends. One can only imagine when the Kooks and Pogues clash again.

Content warning: Violence, mentions of kidnapping and drugging.

Word count: 2,840

hi hi hi! look a little different? i wanted to umph up my writings and i feel very proud currently. i've quit writing on here a lot but i should just stop posting about it because i end up getting a new fixation or one comes back and i start writing again

this one is a bit long, i got a little carried away. i just love john b and feel he's so underrated

so hi or hello again! i can't wait to hear all your ideas!

please like and reblog!!

(divider credit: @enchanthings )

“The waves are gorgeous today, you comin’?” John B holds onto the doorframe as he leans in your room. You close your book a bit, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t surf, John B. But I’d love to watch you surf.” You smile softly and put your bookmark in, standing up and stretching after spending a few hours in your bed.

John B took in every inch of you as you lean your head back. Cold air sucks through his teeth slowly as his eyes watch your muscles tighten on your stomach, your arms above your head, listening to the soft grunts and whimpers you make.

John B clears his throat, blinking a few times. “Right, uh, I’ll-we’ll be in the Twinkie.” You stand up straight and nod, turning away from him. John B turns quickly on his heels and sighs, running a hand through his hair and heading outside.

JJ is tying the last board to the top of the van when you come out of the house in your bikini and one of John B’s button ups. Kiara spots you first and smirks, nudging JJ who whistles. Sarah rolls her eyes.

You hop in behind the driver’s seat, pushing your sunglasses on your head and putting your bag between your feet. “I packed a few snacks, I didn’t know if there was a cooler or anything but I didn’t want you guys to get hungry.” You smile softly at the Pouges and they all thank you, JJ offering a beer in return, which you decline. You did share his joint with him.

The Pogues found you on the boat where they were saving their friend Sarah, John B’s girlfriend at the time. Rafe had taken you on board as his girlfriend-hostage. You told him you didn’t want to go but Rose gave you and Sarah a tea to make you sleepy, and Rafe hated himself for it.. for a few weeks.

The Pogues didn’t know you and you didn’t know them, but they couldn’t leave you behind. You jumped in the water and John B pulled you into their boat, making sure you were okay before speeding away.

It was awkward the first few days. You didn’t say much and they didn’t try to initiate conversation- except for John B.

No matter if you were sitting by yourself, he made sure to go over and make sure you felt included. He’d bring you over to the group if they were playing a game, and when they played 21 questions, you opened up to them a bit more.

You were still hesitant around them, not speaking up when someone asks what they should do or telling someone they’re wrong. You were new and didn’t feel like you had a right to speak up, as you weren’t technically a Pogue.

John B parks on the beach and you smile, dropping your sunglasses on your nose and stepping onto the warm sand with a relaxed groan, arms out wide as you soak in the sun.

His ears perk up and the hair on his neck tickles him, making him rub it aggressively. His eyes move to his side mirror, watching his shirt blow in the wind on you, exposing your whole torso.

“Are you gonna make a move or are you just going to keep staring at her creepily?” JJ teases and John B pushes his friend’s head. They hop out and help the others pull the boards down.

As you reach up to help bring the last one down, you hear engines roaring behind you. Topper’s car comes into view and you gasp softly, knowing Rafe was most likely behind him.

John B notices your shaky fingers and grabs your hands, pushing his thumb in the hair tie around your wrist. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You look at him and nod, your face turning white as you watch Rafe open his door and step out, eyes on you.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” You nod and John B hugs you tightly, trying to correct your nerves.

“Pretty sure that’s Rafe’s girl you’re feeling up. Do you have a thing for sloppy seconds?” Topper laughs as he stands in the middle of the Kooks and Pogues.

John B’s jaw clenches and he starts to walk over. “John B.. hey, hey! You can’t fight, no fighting, please.” You beg, gripping his forearm. He looks at your hand then back in your eyes, nodding.

He meets up with Topper and you couldn’t watch. You were afraid a fight was going to start, and Rafe couldn’t stop staring at you and you could feel it.

John B eventually came back over with a sour look on his face, grabbing his board and sticking it in the sand to pull off his shirt. He looks at you and you catch it, John B giving you a soft smile.

You find a spot for your towel where you were blocked from Rafe’s view but you could still see every part of the ocean. You planned on reading your book, but you couldn’t when John B was surfing perfectly.

Your chin rests in your hands with your elbows on your knees as you watch the boys in the water. JJ and Topper surf next to each other only to have Topper wipe completely out, resulting in you folding over in laughter at him.

John B and JJ take a rest in the water so you take the opportunity to pull out your book. Before you could get through the page, you hear a knock on the Twinkie.

“Yn.” Rafe smiles softly and you stand up quickly, glancing over at the ocean where John B had his back turned.

“Rafe.. I don’t.. I don’t want to talk to you.” You wrap your arms around yourself to calm yourself but it doesn’t work. Every Pogue was in the ocean. The Kooks’ view was blocked. No one was paying attention.

Rafe takes a step closer and you take a big one back. “Yn.. I just want to apologize for what I did to you.” His voice sounds sincere but his eyes tell a different story. You knew Rafe, he couldn’t be sympathetic. He was just like his father, how Rafe always wanted to be.

“Rafe, please..” your voice trails to a whisper, pleading him to leave you alone with your fingers lacing together. John B turns around to check on you, and does a double take when he sees Rafe and you slowly stepping back.

“Shit. JJ, let’s go!” The two paddle back to shore, leaving their boards in the sand by the water as they run over to you. John B stands in front of you and JJ stands in front of him.

“The fuck are you doing over here, Rafe?” John B darkens his eyes and he pushes you behind him. You were sure John B could feel your heartbeat on his back. Your nose touches his shoulder blade, peeking your eyes over his shoulder.

"Oh, I just wanted to talk to Yn, John B. Is there a problem with me talking to my girlfriend?" Your stomach starts to spin. John B clenches his fists.

"I'm pretty sure she stopped being girlfriend when you had your step mommy drug her and you kidnapped her." JJ spits and you smile softly at him defending you too.

"Yn, I really am sorry." Rafe steps forward again and John B puts an arm around you from behind him, his hand on your ribs as he pulls you into his salty back.

"You need to go, Rafe," John B's fingers grip his shirt on your body, your cheek pressing against his back where his heartbeat drums loudly in your ear. "Now."

"Scurry on back to your Kooks, don't worry about Yn, you have a girl over there." JJ shoos his hand and Rafe backs away, trying to get a look at you again.

"I'll see you around Yn!" Rafe shouts as he passes the twinkie.

"No you won't, Rafe!" John B yells back.

You try everything to keep the tears from falling but your hands cover your eyes as you begin to shake. "Hey, hey, hey!" John B catches you and holds you tightly close to him as you cry. He sits you both down on your towel slowly.

"How could he think that was okay?" You weep, leaning into John B's shoulder. He sighs and shakes his head, rubbing your arm to help calm your sobs. "Sometimes I just wanna.." You fist a pile of sand, clenching it tightly before letting the particles fall through your fingers.

"Hit him?" John B chuckles and the look you gave him made him stop. He hadn't seen a look like this from you before. "Kill him."

"I feel like I could finally breathe if he wasn't here.” You sigh and John B clears his throat and you can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, that sounded crazy.” John B starts to laugh too, shaking your body against his with his hand on your shoulder.

“I can’t say I blame you, honestly.” You two finally look at each other and a soft gasp catches in your throat, your faces close to one another. “He never deserved you."

John B's hand squeezes your shoulder, letting out a shaky breath as he looks at your lips. You lean in slowly only to gasp excitedly and turn John B's head with your hand holding his chin. "It's a hatch!"

You pull him up with you, calling the others over. Kiara squats next to you as you watch them scurry to the sea, JJ and John B making a path for them.

Unbeknownst to you, Rafe was climbing into the driver's seat of his car, starting the engine and revving it. You and John B talk to the turtles as they push through the heavy sand, Kiara taking notice of Rafe in the car. "Hey, stop! There's a hatch!"

You turn around and hear the rev, eyes widening as you look between the turtles and the car. You race to the twinkie, hurrying to find anything that could stop Rafe from killing any of these turtles.

Kiara frantically waves her arms and shouts. JJ and John B are trying to get the turtles to move faster without disturbing nature. You, however, found an old metal baseball bat.

Fuck no fighting, fuck staying quiet, fuck being scared. It was your turn to be scary.

You grip the baseball bat tight in your palms, knuckles turning white when Rafe's car comes into view. You stand in his path, running towards him as he drives and slamming the baseball bat into his windshield.

Glass shatters in his lap and on the hood, a piece cutting your cheek. He brakes aggressively and you don't stop swinging. Sideview mirrors, headlights, tail lights, windows, everything.

"Fuck! You!" You yell over and over, Rafe watching with his hands on his head. "What? Were you gonna try and kill me again, huh?! Did you tell those Kook cunts how you drugged and kidnapped me, or are you still trying to portray yourself as a 'good guy' just like your dad?" You scream as you continue to shatter his back windshield.

"Yn, stop!" JJ grabs the bat with one hand and wraps an arm around your waist, puling you away with John B taking the bat.

"Expect a visit from Shoupe." Rafe smirks.

"Hope your buddies didn't catch me saying you kidnapped and drugged me or you should expect one from Shoupe too!" You yell, Rafe looking at all his friends recording and his smirk drops as well as the color in his face.

JJ carries you all the way over to the Twinkie and puts you inside, pointing his finger at you. "You're in timeout." You snicker and lay back against the floor, covering your eyes with your arms.

You couldn't believe how quickly your mood flipped. But the threat of killing baby turtles sent you over the edge. You sit up and lean out of the van, watching the last few turtles become one with the sea. John B comes over with his board and reaches up to put it on top of his van. You back up slowly to sit against the seats and stare at his body stretching in front of you.

He stands flat on his feet and you look at your nails before he could catch you staring. He helps put the other ones on top and you glance every now and then at his v-line. Everyone eventually gets back in and the drive home is quiet, and you felt at fault.

You wanted to find your place in this wonderful group of friends but you fear you just ruined it. The twinkie squeals to a stop and you're the first one out of the van. John B watches you run into the house, a sigh escaping his nose as his eyelashes flutter.

Everyone disperses elsewhere and John B follows you in to your room. Your door was cracked a bit, John B peeking his eye in to see you laying on your side with a pillow over your head, bandaid on your cheek. He knocks softly to make his presence known but the squeaky hinges did it for him.

You didn't budge. He sat next to you on your bed, looking at the closed door before laying next to you with his back on yours. You two lay like that for a while, just passing breaths back and forth. You could hear JJ and Kiara laughing together outside through your window.

Finally, you roll on your back and stare at the ceiling, studying the popcorn divots in it. John B lays on his left side, hand holding up his head as he looks at you.

He watches your eyelashes as you blink, the twitch of your lips, studying every freckle. You purse your lips softly and he can't stop staring. The tip of your tongue pokes out slightly to wet your lips and you deeply sigh and close your eyes.

John B lifts his hand, using the smallest tip of his finger to trace down your nose, exhaling as he drags. He does it again but to your eyebrows. Your lips part just a bit and finger brushes over the delicate skin.

"He never deserved you." His voice was barely a whisper when his finger traces your jaw, his words from earlier filling the air. You open your eyes, John B's face hovering near yours.

You move closer to him, fully under him now. Your hand pushes back the hair that falls in front of his eyes and you drown in the color. "But he did deserve the bat to the car." You wink and he laughs. His smile slowly drops and he's back to staring intently at you. "Are you ever going to kiss me?" You whisper, a rumble of a laugh coming from John B's throat before pressing his lips softly to yours.

Your arm wraps around his neck and you pull his weight on top of you, his hand holding his body up a bit as his lips move perfectly against yours. Your fingers grip his hair, your right hand pushing down his back and scratching up softly, John B pulling back while biting your lip with a soft groan.

"I've been wanted to do that for so long." He kisses your cheek and jaw, your arms tightening around him to bring him into a hug. "I'm so happy you jumped off that boat, Yn."

"Me fucking too." You kiss his chest and he falls next to you on the other side of you now, the both of you on your sides as you look at each other. "Do you think Sarah's going to be annoyed?"

"I honestly really don't care what Sarah thinks." He pecks your nose. "I've been dreaming about this day since I saw you reading on the hammock a while ago." He blinks a few times as if he was reliving it all over again. "You were always reading, you still are. You still weren't really talking a lot but you started to, even after all that shit in Barbados." He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest.

"I know, I just.. I was new, I still am. I don't want to say something and then you guys get mad because I'm not a Pogue."

"You are most certainly a Pogue now." He kisses you a few times before continuing his story. "I remember it was sundown, you love to read and watch the sunset. But I remember this time, you weren't reading, you were nodding off. The book kept falling forward and it eventually fell on your chest. You just looked so peaceful." He wasn't looking at you when he told this story, but out the window to the hammock.

"Sarah is such a fucking idiot." You breathe before kissing him again, rolling on top of him with your hands on his chest. "She didn't deserve you."

"Those fucking Camerons, they have no idea what they’re missing."

“Sucks for them.” You smirk, kissing him again and holding his neck as you deepen the kiss, John B’s fingers tangled in your hair.

[cherryfyre]

5 Times Sarah Cameron Used You to Change Rafe's Mind

The Charity Auction

Rafe lounged on the couch, lazily flipping through the flat screen's channels. He wasn't in the mood for Sarah's antics, but the sound of her heels clicking on the hardwood floors made him glance up.

"Don't forget, the charity auction is tomorrow," Sarah said, casually tying her hair back as she rifled through a drawer.

"Not going"

"You're unbelievable," Sarah shot back, slamming the drawer shut. "Dad donated half the prizes, and people are expecting us. Do you really want to deal with him if we don't show?"

Rafe scoffed "Since when do you care about what Dad thinks?"

"I don't. But the auction's important to people. Like... y'know who."

Rafe didn't need her to clarify. He could picture you now—probably making centrepieces out of seashells or whatever it was kooks like you cared about. He rolled his eyes, "Still not going."

Sarah smirked. "Right. Because you hate being in a room where people are actually impressed by you for once." She snapped, turning on her heel and starts to leave.

He threw the remote onto the couch with a groan "Fine. but if it's boring then I'm out."

The next evening. Rafe walked into the auction wearing a blazer that screamed "I don't care," through his hair that was carefully tousled. His eyes hovered over the luxurious room, until they had found you.

You were at the front of the room, adjusting a floral arrangement on a table, your dress soft and flowing, catching the light with every move. When you turend and saw him, your focused face turned into a surprised smile.

"Rafe? I didn't think I would see you here."

"Yeah, well...." He shrugged, slipping hsi hands into his pockets, "Sarah dragged me."

Your smiled softened, your voice quieter now. "Well, I'm glad you came. It's nice having someone I know here."

Rafe felt his chest tighten unexpectedly, the kind of feeling he'd never admit. "You seem busy." He said, motioning to the bustling room.

"I am, but..." You stepped closer, the warmth of your perfume wrapping around him "It's good busy. It's for a good cause."

He nodded, unable to look away from your glowing expression. "Yeah, looks good."

2. The Bonfire

“Don’t be lame, Rafe,” Sarah called from the doorway, jingling her car keys.

“Not going.” He didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Right,” Sarah said, leaning against the doorframe. “Because sitting alone here and staring at your phone all night is such a better time.”

“It is when I don’t have to deal with John B and his idiot friends.”

Sarah shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m just saying it’s not a bad crowd. You know, people who don’t get on your nerves.” She paused, giving him a pointed look. “Like her.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

“She’s been talking about it all week. She even made s’mores kits,” Sarah added with a sly grin. “But whatever. Have fun being miserable.”

He sighed, setting his phone down with exaggerated annoyance. “I’m only going because I’m bored. Don’t expect me to stay long.”

The fire crackled against the dark sky, and Rafe stayed on the outskirts, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He scanned the crowd until his eyes landed on you. You were crouched by the fire, your laughter mingling with the sparks as you tried to keep a marshmallow from catching fire.

When you caught him watching, you smiled and waved. “Come sit!”

“I’m good here,” he called back, though his feet were already moving toward you.

“Afraid of s’mores?” you teased, holding out a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

He smirked, taking it from you. “You’re lucky this one’s decent.

“Lucky?” you laughed. “I’m an expert.”

He shook his head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. The firelight danced in your eyes, and for the first time that night, he didn’t mind being there.

3. The Surf Competition

Rafe leaned back in his chair, his feet propped on the porch railing as Sarah walked past with a beach bag slung over her shoulder.

“You’re not going to the surf competition?” she asked, not breaking stride.

“Since when do I go to those things?” he shot back, his sunglasses hiding his glare.

“Since never,” Sarah replied. “But it’s kind of a big deal. The whole island’s going. It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.”

“Pass.”

Sarah stopped, looking over her shoulder. “You know, she’s competing.”

Rafe’s hand paused mid-reach for his drink. “And?”

“And nothing,” Sarah said, turning away. “But she’s been practicing for weeks, and she’s actually good. But hey, stay here. I’m sure your chair needs you.”

Rafe grumbled under his breath, grabbing his keys. “Whatever.”

The beach was packed, the crowd buzzing with excitement. Rafe kept to the back, his arms crossed as he scanned the waves. When he spotted you paddling out, your determination written in every stroke, he couldn’t look away.

You caught a wave, carving effortlessly down its face, your smile radiant as you glided toward the shore. The crowd erupted in cheers, but Rafe barely noticed. He was too busy watching you, the way you seemed to light up in the sunlight.

Afterward, you spotted him leaning against a railing. “Rafe! You came?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral. “Didn’t have anything else going on.”

Your smile widened. “Well, thanks. It means a lot.”

He didn’t say anything, but the warmth in your voice stayed with him long after the competition ended.

4. The Family Dinner

“You’re coming to dinner,” Sarah said as she walked into the living room.

Rafe didn’t even glance up. “No, I’m not.”

“It’s just dinner, Rafe. Dad’s grilling, and—”

“And what? It’s going to be a train wreck like usual?”

Sarah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Stay here. I just thought you’d want to keep her company while the rest of us deal with Dad’s speeches.”

Rafe looked up, his brow furrowing. “She’s going?”

“She’s coming with her parents. You know how Dad is—he invited everyone with a trust fund.”

Rafe muttered something under his breath before standing. “Guess I’ll go. Someone has to keep you in check.”

At the dinner, Rafe kept his distance at first, leaning against a tree with a drink in hand. But when he saw you standing by yourself near the fire pit, your dress catching the glow of the flames, he found himself walking over.

“Didn’t think this was your kind of thing,” he said, his voice casual.

You turned, your face lighting up. “Rafe! I didn’t see you earlier.”

“Yeah, well… figured I’d make an appearance.”

You smiled softly, and for the rest of the night, Rafe found himself by your side, your laughter making the night more bearable than he’d ever admit.

5. The Lake Day

“Let’s go,” Sarah said, throwing a towel at Rafe’s head.

He caught it with a scowl. “Go where?”

“The lake. Everyone’s going.”

“Pass.”

“Typical.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “She’s coming too, but I guess that’s not enough of a reason for you to leave your cave.”

Rafe frowned, trying to mask his interest. “She’s going?”

Sarah didn’t answer, just smirked as she walked out the door.

By the lake, Rafe spotted you sitting on the dock, your feet dangling in the water. The sunlight danced across the waves, catching in your hair and making you look almost otherworldly.

He walked over, sitting down next to you without a word.

“Hey,” you said, smiling at him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Sarah dragged me,” he lied, glancing out at the water.

You bumped his shoulder lightly. “Well, I’m glad you came.”

Rafe felt the tension in his chest ease, the warmth of your presence making the lake day more tolerable than he’d thought possible.

[daintcas]

lady killers ˗ˏˋ rafe cameron !

"man i'm a lady killer, if i want her i'mma steal her" / g-eazy

pairing. dealer!rafe cameron x innocent(ish)!reader

summary. his constant cycle of partying with privilege grants him anything he wants, until you show up to break the pattern.

contains. alcohol and drug use, tension, sexually suggestive, implied age gap, cliffhanger

the lifestyle comes with its perks, constantly surrounded by pretty girls who were more than willing to follow him upstairs. direct access to any substance he wanted, displayed messily across the polished coffee table at all times. not to mention the adrenaline-boosting boom of a surrounding party in some kid's ridiculously expensive house - thrown almost nightly.

it became a normality for him, whether or not he realized how unhealthy his habits may be. blinded by the attention, money, and already through-the-roof addition of popularity, the boy let himself be overcome by it all. but hey, isn't this how you're supposed to live life after graduation?

you, on the other hand, were never overly thrilled at the idea of occupying your time with what seemed to be an endless string of these things. that being said, it wasn't an unfamiliar scene after having wasted a couple of saturdays with friends before.

you also weren't one to deny the opportunity for a good night. which is why you didn't put up much of a fight when none other than sarah cameron insisted on your presence at a party she was hosting in her family's mansion.

she was friendly enough, but not to the extent of being by your side for the duration of the whole night because of an invite most likely given out to everyone in her contacts - that part had you a bit nervous. the idea of being stranded in a room full of highly intoxicated kids you hardly knew.

all precautions were eventually thrown out the window when you found yourself getting all dolled up in the bathroom mirror. mascara turning out perfect over a flawless base, hair down and flowing neatly, a strapless pale pink sundress you'd bought with sarah weeks ago tying it all together.

with one final application of lipgloss over expertly lined lips and a brief pose checking your reflection, you were headed out. fresh acrylics plucking your keys from the household bowl and looking down at your phone to check the time just as it rings, stopping your hand from unlocking the front door.

a sigh escapes you as you juggle everything in your hands to bring the device to your ear after blindly swiping to answer. a loud shout of your name has you flinching and furrowing your brows in confusion - and maybe annoyance. "yeah? hello?"

"c'mon, i'm outside!" a girl all but yells and it isn't until you hear a sweet, enthusiastic laugh that you recognize the voice.

"sarah?" you ask, though already having discarded the keys and slipped on your shoes lying ready by the doormat.

"let's go! i've got a party to entertain," the words are followed by the muffled sound of her shifting around, and you take it as your grace period to get outside before she takes off.

throwing open the door and hurrying down the steps of the front porch, you can't help but smile at the girl sitting in the driver's seat of a black jeep. beaming over at you, she hangs up the phone and ushers you over to the otherwise vacant car with a flailing hand.

the trip to tannyhill is filled with wide smiles and giggles over speakers blaring iconic summer songs. windows rolled down to take in an orangey-pink sky from the setting sun - which almost distracts from how sharp sarah takes what seems to be every turn in town.

the suv eventually comes to a stop after sliding down into the basement garage that screams wealth, right past all the cars lined up along the street. sarah hops out and offers a toothy grin while tossing her sunglasses in the center console.

"i'm so happy you're finally at one of my parties," she says while taking your hand and eagerly leading the way upstairs, her own dress swaying as she walks.

"me too," is all you offer in response, too entranced by the new level of rich that surrounds you while following blindly.

the mansion feels more like a maze as sarah leads you down and around hallways not yet crowded with partygoers. but, the blasting of music that vibrates the house says otherwise.

moonlight quickly replaces the sunshine, making visibility near impossible as you enter where the mass of everyone is. still hand in hand with sarah, you take the chance to look around.

between all the groups in the kitchen and on a makeshift dance floor, it's someone sitting among a circle of couches and chairs that has you doing a double take. turning back the second time is when you recognize the boy with his eyes still glued on you, wiping under his nose, to be rafe.

you don't miss the lazy smirk he shoots before sarah tugs you back to reality, finally dropping your hand and turning to stand face-to-face with the same excited smile.

"you'll be fine if i go say hi to a few people?" she asks, glancing across your face to genuinely gauge your feelings.

"'course. thanks, sarah," you answer convincingly enough that she's scurrying off to talk with whoever awaits her presence.

the best option you conclude is to go straight for the drinks. a quick scan of the counter and you're grabbing a red solo cup to fill with the first bottle you can get your hands on.

"better take slow sips of that," a voice behind you says, low and close enough to know it's you they're addressing. startled, you turn around, only to be face to face with rafe cameron. he must notice the way you tilt your head up with wide eyes, because he takes the opportunity to eye you up and step closer.

"you friends with sarah?" he asks as you set down the bottle of alcohol on the counter behind you, nodding casually - even with the way he's watching your every move so intently.

"mhm," you muster up, naturally a bit nervous standing under the mercy of 'kook prince' himself.

"yeahhh.." he draws out while taking a greedy eyeful of your whole being, tongue pressed to his cheek and making no effort to hide his arrogant smirk. there's a pause before he's nodding back towards the lounge he was previously sat without taking his eyes off you - your body. "y'wanna come with me and try the good shit?"

you look down at your cup when he taps it, swishing the cheap liquid while thinking over his offer. it doesn't take long before you're looking back up with a hesitant shake of your head and a small smile, murmuring, "don't think so.. not really my thing."

he tsks and shakes his head, taking it upon himself to ease the cup from your hand and positioning himself closer. he tilts his head to purposefully look down on you and get in your face, a smirk still present as he speaks lowly, "aww, c'mon. i'll keep you safe."

a nervous laugh and involuntary flush of your cheeks has you unable to refuse. rubbing your lip with a shy nod - admittedly not the most well-thought-out decision - and he's got a hand on your lower back to guide you, following close enough behind to allow his eyes to flicker subtly below your dress.

you approach the collection of seats, wary but not completely oblivious. rafe sits you down on a loveseat, hand moving to wrap around your waist and pull you to his side. the attention from this boy blurs the scene around you, rolled bills on the table, and various baggies with a particular white substance.

"so, um, what's the.. 'good' stuff?" you ask tentatively, looking up at him and shifting in the seat.

"'s all right here, baby," his grin is almost malicious and his eyes shamelessly drop to your lips. removing the arm around you, he spreads his legs and lifts his hips to fish for something in his back pocket.

you take the opportunity to look around at his company and it's no surprise to find topper and kelce among other random guys - even a couple girls who admittedly look a bit older than you and sarah. before processing the thought, you're looking to rafe for reassurance.

he, however, is focused intently on setting up a line of powder on your side of the table with a sharp black card. he sits back with a satisfied grin and looks over at you. "first one's free."

you stare up at him with big, cautious eyes for a moment before turning to the intimidatingly thick string of white.

he chuckles and uses a finger to smudge the neat line, collecting a less daunting amount on the digit. a nod of his head signals he wants you closer, so you do, positioning your body to face him.

snaking a hand to hold firmly behind your neck, he tilts your head back only slightly and prepares to bring his finger to your nose. a raise of his brow asks for permission and you nod.

the substance shoots through you unexpectedly quick which has you screwing your eyes shut and wincing. the reaction only amuses rafe and he moves the arm around your shoulder and tugs you into him once again.

finding solace in the embrace, you allow yourself to sink into his chest - an unsafe level of vulnerability. everything is loud, the booming of music and people feeling increasingly suffocating.

rafe laughs again, smirking in a way that now seems taunting. he takes a good look at you before leaning in to let his warm breath brush against your ear. "y'know, you're real pretty."

that's when you really think about what's happening right now. laying against rafe cameron - who for one reason or another seems to have taken a liking to you. the drug pumping through you and butterflies in your stomach has your heart beating with excitement.

it also has you fluttering your lashes up at rafe with a dopey smile, telling him all he needs to know. all it took was a dot of coke and he's got you right where he wants you.

"why don't you let me take you upstairs?" he presses in a way that shows the line has worked a million times before.

but who are you to turn him down? there's no denying how tempting he is and your attraction towards him. but instead, you shrug and look around in search of sarah.

it takes a minute before you catch her eyes and are met with a concerned yet angry expression. she's quickly by your side and pulling you up from the couch, glaring down at her brother.

"leave my friends alone, rafe." with that, sarah is tugging you away and back through the crowd. your hazy state makes it hard to resist, but you manage to look back at the boy on the couch. he's sitting back, clearly amused but not deterred.

a wink is all he gives before paying his attention back to his friends, leaving you to wonder what all of this meant.

one thing about rafe, though, is when he sets his sights on something - someone - he gets what he wants. he knows he will, and you're no exception.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

you're a mean one, mr. miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift

warnings: jackson era, grumpy old man!joel, significant other!reader, fluff, mild angst, gift giving, christmas at the miller's, so many polaroids

word count: 3.8k

12 days of pedro masterlist - ty to @hellishjoel for organizing this project <3

The Miller household always gets a little tense around the holidays. When the days shorten and snow begins to fall, Joel throws himself into patrols and plans for winter-proofing Jackson, and it's all he'll talk about for months. It's obvious he does it on purpose. 

Christmas is basically an unspoken no-no under his roof, and there might as well be a swear jar for the word if his reaction is any indication. He refuses to acknowledge it and only tolerates the day itself because he knows it makes you and Ellie happy. 

You just wish it made him happy, too. You know it used to. Every year, Tommy regales stories about their Christmases in Austin as kids, and later with Sarah. Joel loved Christmas. 

They used to visit the tree farm, pick the tallest, fullest tree they could fit in their living room, and decorate it the very same day. Their attic and even parts of their garage were home to lights and tinsel in every color you could think of, and ornaments Sarah brought home from art classes and the yearly holiday fair at school.

All of that changed after the outbreak. It wasn't just her passing that did it. It wasn't even the threat of death or worse lurking around every corner. It was time. 

Joel just got used to life without it. After 22 years of missed holidays, he decided he didn't actually miss them at all. He couldn't afford to spare precious resources or energy on anything that wasn't necessary for survival. But that isn't the point of Christmas, is it? 

You celebrate your loved ones and their joy. You celebrate life. Here in Jackson, he finally has all of that, but if Joel is anything, he's a stubborn man set in his ways. You can tell he's still resistant to the idea because he genuinely believes there are better uses for his time.

You can also tell he's afraid to let his guard down. You just haven't figured out a way to show him he doesn't have to be. No one's safety is guaranteed in the world you live in, but you're protected now. And that responsibility isn't solely on him anymore.

If you could give him anything for Christmas this year, it would be peace. One day, even just a few hours of tensionless shoulders and a wrinkle-free brow would be a gift for all of you. He deserves to enjoy something merry and cheerful again, just for the sake of it.  

So, you ask the person who knows him best in the world for help.

"What do we think about getting Joel a Christmas gift this year?"

Ellie glances up from her guitar with the most incredulous look you've ever seen on her face. 

"Depends. Do you have a death wish?" she jokes, draping her arm over her instrument so she's sitting more comfortably. She's settling in—you both know this is about to be a painful conversation.

"No, but—," you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. It's still chilled, even through your coat, from when you barged into the shed and interrupted her practice. "I don't know. He wouldn't make that big of a deal, would he? It doesn't have to be anything flashy, just something small. Something nice."

"So, you wanna get Joel something nice for a holiday he hates? That makes total sense," she says, rolling her eyes.

You don't appreciate the sarcasm, but you expected it. She knows as well as you do that Joel won't be thrilled by the gesture, if he even accepts it.

"El, come on. I could really use your help here," you try to appeal to the part of her that usually can't say no to you, and thankfully she's starting to cave. "If there's anyone who can come up with a present Joel will actually like, it's you."

She sighs. Her fingers drum an arrhythmic beat on the wood grain while she thinks, a habit she must've picked up from Joel.

"Look, Joel's not really a 'thing' kinda guy," she replies, and she's probably right. He's never been the kind of guy who has physical attachments. "When's the last time he actually gave a shit when something broke or got lost? Even his watch is broken."

"Yeah, but that's different. You know it's different," you counter softly. But you can see the point she's trying to make. "Okay, so we don't get him a 'thing'."

She nods, waiting for you to offer another idea, but you're even more stumped than you were when you got here. 

"Maybe you can draw him something?" you grimace, grasping at straws now.

"His house is full of shit I've drawn," she deadpans. "Plus, I thought this was an us gift. That sounds like a 'me doing all the work' gift."

You let out a frustrated groan, and your head thunks dully against the door. You knew this wasn't going to be an easy task, but you thought it would at least be possible. Joel's a complicated man—it's one of the things you love most about him—but his wants and needs are surprisingly simple. 

He loves a home-cooked meal, especially meat and potatoes. He enjoys cold beers with Tommy on the porch during the summer and walking Ellie through complicated picking patterns when she's stuck on a song. He likes relaxing on the couch and watching old Westerns or cheesy action movies, and craves your body, soft and pliant, under his after a frustrating day on patrol.

But you want this to mean more than any of that. A special something that goes beyond the norm to loosen some of the springs that keep him wound up tight and constantly in motion. 

You glance around Ellie's space as your hope begins to dwindle, and the corkboard above her bed catches your eye. It's always been there, covered in doodled-on scrap paper and photos of her family and friends, and you're positive you've seen it hundreds of times since you've been in Jackson. But this time, it gives you an idea. The idea.

"That Polaroid camera you found in Eugene's basement—the one in the library. Does it work?"

Ellie's brows furrow at your sudden question. She clearly didn't expect it, but you're hoping she'll be on board once she finally catches on.

"Uhh, yeah, Cat and I were messing around with it the other day. Worked pretty well for us," she replies hesitantly, pointing at the entertainment console next to you. "It's next to the PlayStation."

Humming in response, you squat in front of the shelf to inspect it. It's in great condition, even better than you expected. Even the flash button lights up and whirs just like you remember. 

Before she can protest, you whip around and snap an extremely candid, brightly lit photo of her. If the look on her face is the same one you just caught on film, then you're already off to a great start.

"Dude, what the fuck? What was that for?" she groans in annoyance, blinking the bright spots out of her vision.  

"A scrapbook," you grin. "For Joel."

She's still glaring at you as she rubs her eyes, but she bites back whatever retort she was about to say. You watch her expectantly as she chews on the idea, relief blooming in your chest when she finally nods.

"I guess that could work," she says slowly, still thinking over the logistics in her head. But then she frowns. "When exactly did you plan on taking all those photos? Not to be a downer, but Christmas is in like, a week."

Damn, she's right again. It'll be hell in a handbasket to fill an entire scrapbook in that amount of time, and even if you manage it, it'll be a half-assed attempt at best.

No, if you're going to do this, then you're going to do it right. No rushed or slapstick presents for the man who already hates Christmas—Joel deserves better than that.

"What if we let Joel do his bah-humbug thing one last time? That's probably his idea of a perfect gift, anyway. Then next year, it'll be this," you hand her the fully-developed Polaroid.

It shows Ellie hugging the guitar Joel made for her, but there's no sign of the shocked annoyance that followed the camera flash. Instead, she's smiling. She has that rare, unguarded expression on her face, the one reserved only for people she trusts. It's a tender moment of peace, forever frozen in time.

She looks up at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She gets it, now.

"You do realize it's still a 'thing' present though, right?" she interjects playfully, and you have to resist the urge to grab the wood polishing cloth on the table next to you and swat her with it.

"Yeah, but it's a sappy thing. Admit it, Joel's a huge sap and you know it. You said it yourself, his house is basically a glorified fridge with your art magnetized to the walls."

She rolls her eyes again, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips. She knows it's true.

"So, you'll help me?" you ask, daring to hope that she'll agree.

"As long as you don't pull this shit again, I'll do whatever you want," she lifts the Polaroid, shooting you a dirty, but affectionate look before handing it back to you.

A grin breaks out across your face, and you bolt across the room to hug her awkwardly around the instrument still sitting in her lap. She places it down so she can wrap her arms around you properly. 

Physical affection has never really been Ellie's thing but if you catch her at the right moment on the right day, you might get lucky. Today, you do.

"So, when do we get started?" she asks, pulling away.

"Right now," you reply, unable to contain your excitement. For the first time in over two decades, Joel Miller might actually have a merry Christmas, and that's something to celebrate. 

"Now?" she gapes at you, looking over her shoulder longingly at her guitar as you drag her out of the shed. She barely has enough time to grab a coat before you're out in the cold with nothing but each other, a camera, and a plan.

"Now." 

ONE YEAR LATER

Jackson in the spring is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, even among your memories of the world pre-outbreak. Snow remains on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the foliage below blooms with the promise of warmer weather. Somehow, you managed to capture it all—fresh flowers in the shop windows, friends and neighbors shedding their coats and congregating in the streets, and the post-winter excitement that spreads more and more with each sunny day. 

You hid the stack of photographs in an empty jumbo box of tampons in the hall closet, positive they’d be safe from Joel’s prying eyes while you and Ellie continued your mission.

In the summer, two new foals were born, and Ellie and Maria spent almost every day at the stables to help out where they could. They even named them—Shimmer was Maria’s choice, and Ellie named the other Callus just to piss off Joel. Not only did it work, but it resulted in some of the cutest pictures of the season. 

Joel and Tommy built a porch swing for Maria and their rambunctious toddler and spent countless balmy nights drinking Tommy's extra-strength whiskey and shooting the shit. They even broke out their guitars every so often and managed to bully Ellie into playing with them once or twice. You caught that on camera, too. 

Slowly but surely, the memory box filled up, and the photos were transferred to a scrapbook you and Ellie made yourselves—with a little local help. One of the school teachers happened to be a former librarian with a bookbinding hobby, and graciously gave you a treasure trove of old, tattered books that were perfect for your project. 

By autumn, everything was falling into place. Ellie adorned those pages with painted leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow to complement the photos you took at the town’s annual Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving potluck. You hopped around from booth to booth, table to table, and thanked your lucky stars that Eugene was a hoarder and held onto every pack of film he found over the years.

Now, it's the night before Christmas and you have a single shot left. One last photo intended for the final page, but you can’t think of anything you haven’t already documented. Looking around Tommy’s living room, there are plenty of moments you’d love to capture, and yet none of them feel like the moment. 

How the Grinch Stole Christmas plays in the background while you sit on their couch, curled into Joel’s side with Ellie’s head on your lap, but you’re barely paying attention, still lost in your thoughts. Joel isn’t paying attention, either—he was unsurprisingly averse to the movie to begin with—so when you don’t laugh along with everyone else at the Grinch’s antics, he immediately knows something’s up. He kisses your temple, careful not to jostle Ellie.

“What’s got you so in your head you’re not even laughin’ at Jim Carrey? I thought you loved this movie,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. His familiar Southern twang somehow warms you up more than the fireplace crackling next to the television. 

“I do. I think I’m just getting a little sleepy, is all,” you reply softly, sagging into him. “Winter dance prep sucked this week. It’s like everyone conveniently forgot they volunteered to help.”

He nods, mumbling an apology into your hair.

“Guess that makes sense. All that runnin’ around you’ve been doing with that camera of yours probably ain’t helpin’ either,” he says offhandedly, and your brows furrow in response.

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned your sudden interest in photography, but with his gift sitting less than 10 feet away under Tommy and Maria’s Christmas tree, it seems more than a little suspicious. You catch Ellie glancing up at you in your peripheral, and you meet her gaze as discreetly as you can.

“Yeah, maybe,” you laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as tense to Joel’s ears as it does to yours.

“What are you doin’ with all of those photos anyway? I swear, you take ‘em and then they disappear into thin air,” he presses on, none the wiser.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you joke, shaking your head as if that’ll shake off all of his incoming questions. But it doesn’t work nearly as well as you hoped.

“Y’know, I was wonderin’ that myself,” Tommy interjects from the recliner to your right. “You’ve been takin’ photo after photo for almost a year, and I don’t think I’ve seen a single one.”

Maria scoffs next to him, coming to the rescue before you’re forced to come up with a believable explanation. 

“Mind your own damn business,” she smacks him in the chest, then shoots you a sympathetic look. 

You asked for her help not long after you and Ellie started planning Joel’s gift, so she knows how important this is. The last thing she’s going to do is let her husband’s need to stir the pot ruin it. But Tommy’s not the type of guy to give in that easily.

“I’m just sayin’, might be nice take a look at ‘em. You probably got some good ones of the kids in there, ‘specially from birthdays and holidays—,” he manages to get out before Ellie cuts him off.

“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie,” she sits up from her spot on your lap to glare in his direction. 

Then, Tommy abruptly stands like something just occurred to him and strides across the room to the mantle above the fireplace—right where you set the camera down earlier. Your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Hold up. This thing’s still got one shot left, don’t it?” he asks excitedly, and you’re not sure how to shut him down without drawing too much attention to yourself or sounding mildly hysterical.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Oh shit, s’got a timer and everythin’,” he continues, fiddling with its limited settings. He turns back towards the rest of the group and holds up the camera with a grin. “C’mon, everybody get together. We’re takin’ our first official Christmas card photo.”

“But, Tommy—,” you try again, but you’re drowned out by Joel’s sad attempt to leave the room.

“Look, I said I’d watch the movie, but I sure as hell didn’t agree to take a damn Christmas photo,” he grumbles, moving to stand, but you latch onto his flannel before he gets too far. He softens at your downtrodden expression and settles back in.

“Just to be clear, m’doin this for her, not for you,” he amends his previous statement gruffly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You kiss his cheek gratefully, and Ellie pretends to gag as she shuffles to sit between your legs.

“Whatever you say, big brother. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. Think you can handle that?” Tommy teases him, making one final adjustment to the camera's placement. “Alright y’all, here we go.”

He sets the timer, then runs to the couch, squishing into the only available spot between Maria and an armrest. Everyone huddles together with varying levels of smiles and grimaces on their faces while you wait for the camera to go off. Except, it doesn't.

“Wait, how long did you set the timer for?” you peer around Maria to see Tommy looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“…Does it not just go 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, shoot?” he asks sheepishly.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Ellie groans, leaning back against you, and the entire couch bursts out laughing. 

And in that moment, the flash goes off.

Yeah, this is the one.

The photo in your hands feels like the culmination of every memory you made and preserved in the past year. Five faces—and one tiny sleeping one—look up at you, fully developed and as happy as you've ever seen them.

Tommy and Maria sit side by side with their son in her lap, their heads thrown back in laughter. Next to them, Ellie sits between your legs, mid-knee slap, as you cackle with your chin resting on top of her head.

And then there's Joel, grinning from ear to ear as he looks on at the family he's fought so hard to protect. The family that's safe and sound, and enjoying an ordinarily special day, just for the sake of it. You can only hope that a book full of photos and everything it represents will be enough to convince him once and for all that it's the truth.

As you slide the final Polaroid into place, Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"What's all this?" he watches curiously as you close the book and swipe your hand lovingly across the cover. Then, you pick it up and turn in his embrace, leaning back against the kitchen counter. 

"A gift," you reply carefully, hugging it to your chest. 

You glance over to where Ellie's still sitting in the living room, but she shakes her head and offers you a small smile, her delicate way of telling you that you're on your own. You take a deep breath before continuing.

"It's a Christmas present from me and Ellie," you explain, hoping to convey even a fraction of what this means to you. "Look, we know this isn’t necessarily your favorite day, but...we still wanted to do something nice for you."

He nods, his expression frustratingly unreadable. But then he does something unexpected.

"Y'gonna keep huggin' it or are you gonna show it to me?" he drawls jokingly, and your brows shoot up in shock.

"You wanna see it?" 

His face falls, and you immediately feel terrible at the brief wave of hurt that crosses his features. You didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you didn't anticipate this easy acceptance.

"'Course I do. The two of you spent a whole year workin' on this thing, why wouldn't I?"

That grin you know he loves lights up your entire face, and you turn to place his gift back on the counter. Flipping to the first page, you step aside and let him explore it for himself.

He takes in each moment of each season slowly, running his fingers across Ellie's doodles between photos and in the margins. Spring is framed by butterflies that you're somehow just realizing are painted in all of Sarah's favorite colors. 

Ellie added so many painstaking details you'd never talked about. You're not even sure how she knew something like that, but you're grateful it's there. Joel notices it too, and reaches down to take your hand, gripping it tightly for the rest of the book. 

He's silent as flips through summer and fall, and when he finally reaches winter, you feel him begin to tremble beside you. 

The last page sits open in front of you, the photo from earlier flanked on either side by notes from you and Ellie. As he reads, then rereads them, you can see the cogs turning. He's starting to understand why you did this—and how something as simple as a photograph isn't just a look back on a life well-lived. It's a reminder to keep living.

“This is…,” his brows furrow as he tries to find the words to express the conflicting thoughts racing through his head.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything," is what he ultimately settles on, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wet. You immediately drop his hand to cup his cheeks.

"You didn't need to. I have everything I've ever wanted right here," you tell him gently, brushing away the tears threatening to fall. 

You glance over at the familiar faces in the living room, the same ones looking up at you from the page below, and he follows your gaze. The tension in his body begins to bleed away the longer he watches them, and you learn the wrinkle in his brow isn't actually the permanent fixture it always seemed to be.

He reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, and you can feel his heart racing through his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is the moment it happens. If his heart grew three sizes bigger today, and if he's finally ready to give himself the gift of peace.

“Merry Christmas, Joel Miller," you whisper, kissing him deeply as the sweet voice of Cindy Lou Who brings the movie credits rolling in the distance to a close.

thanks for reading and happy holidays!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[masongetinmybed]

Hi! Could you do kook princess reader who is secretly fucking jj gets pissed at him because he was trash talking and saying shit about your friends and decides to get payback by tying him up, overstimulating or fucking him dumb and then makes him apologize on video?

yes i love this idea too much to put into words. i live for sub!jj

cw: smut (obv), overstimulation, being tied up, degrading, edging??

*At a pogue party*

"Why the fuck are these dumbass kooks here bro" JJ slurred out looking over at JB, "Dont they know they dont belong on the cut".

JB looks back at JJ "I dont know man Sarah's a kook and you like her" he shrugs at JJ. "Yeah man but like y/n kook princess," he says sarcastically rolling his eyes, "and topper, kelce and don't even get me started on rafe fucking cameron"

Rafe was one of your best friends and your partner in crime (literally and figuratively). Unfortunately for him JJ didnt realize that you had heard him talking about you and all of your friends.

You pulled out your phone to text him before heading back over to your friends

you: wanna come to mine after this party?

jj: ofc i do mamas

you: alr come over in like 2 hours?

jj: ill be there

*later at your house*

JJ walks into your room "hey pretty girl" he says drunkenly smirking at you.

"JJ." you shot him an angry glance.

"what happened mama? i thought you wanted me to come over?" he frowned before walking closer to you and reaching over to you to try and pull you in.

"I did," you pause backing away from him slightly, "because I heard you talking shit about my friends at the party"

"oh-" he huffs, getting cut off by you. "Yeah, that wasn't very nice jayj. You know what happens when you're bad." You whisper into his ear after taking a step closer to him. Your index finger hooking into one of the belt loops of his cargo shorts, your other hand grabbing onto his jaw to tilt his head downward at you.

You let him go and walk over to get the handcuffs from your drawer. "Lay down" you command, and he listens knowing he can't avoid it but trying to get out of it anyway. "Please y/n I'm drunk and I didn't know you would hear it and I'm sorry mama please"

"so you think its okay as long as I don't hear it then huh?" You question, straddling his now shirtless stomach on the bed as you cuff him to the headboard.

"no that's not what I meant princess, I just idk baby I'm sorry" he pleads, eyes sad and lips quirking down into a frown.

"Oh I know you are baby, but you're gonna be really sorry when I'm done with you and you're gonna tell me just how sorry you really are." You smirk down at him, getting off of the bed to strip slowly, enjoying that he couldn't do anything about the bulge growing in his pants.

After getting completely naked you climb back into the bed and kiss JJ, his whimpers vibrate through you as you slowly palm his hard on through his shorts. You move down to slowly pull off his boxers while leaving little kisses on the blondes happy trail, when his shorts are finally off you kiss his clothed tip.

"Y/n, please" he attempts to hurry you, unsuccessfully. "Be patient jayj you did this to yourself" you hushed him finally taking off his boxers and watching as his cock sprung up to hit his abs. You met your lips to his neck, sucking and biting softly as you grind against him, leaving a trail of your slick on his length.

"fuck mamas" he moaned and let his head fall back. Still kissing his neck you lined up his angry tip with your entrance and slid down all the way bottoming out quickly. JJ let out a whimper and then a loud groan as you immediately begin riding him not giving time for either of you to adjust and now kissing along his collarbone and pecs.

"Baby baby slow down p-please" he begged but you didn't give in, over stimulating him as you picked up your speed, one hand in his hair and the other one keeping you steady above him. You met his lips in a sloppy, lustful kiss, his moans and yours mixing together in a symphony. "y/n, i'm so close fuck-" he stuttered out and with that you slowed and carefully got off of him. You looked down at his figure, hair messy and face pathetic as he looked at you reaching over to get your phone. You pulled it out and started recording, "tell me again how sorry you are JJ, god you look so pathetic" you scoff at him.

"P-please baby I'm so so sorry I promise it'll never happen again," he rambled, anxious for release "please mamas let me cum in you". With that you were satisfied and set your phone to record the two of you, something you both did often. You got back onto him as he let out a whimper and his hips bucked up to meet yours.

You began to ride him again, bounces sloppy and the room filled with sounds of yours and his pleasure and the harsh smacking sound of your ass on his thighs, as you both reached your high. You felt his hot ropes of seed slowly come into you as you creamed around his thick length.

"Fuck JJ," you moaned out as you reached up to unlock his handcuffs and release his wrists. His hands immediately found your hips and held you on him before he flipped you over on the bed and pulled out of you slowly. He walked over to the bathroom getting a warm cloth to clean the two of you up with.

"I love you mamas, it'll never happen again. Promise" he said kissing your forehead. "I love you too J" you responded as the two of you cuddled up on your bed together, eventually falling asleep.

A/N: I've never written for sub!JJ before but I hope y'all enjoy. Also I have a few requests and other fics in the drafts so please be patient but feel free to send in any asks! Thanks for the support, love you!!

[lolxdswag123]

Who’s the bad influence? Pt. 3

Rafe Cameron x reader series

Authors note: this is the third part of the series, I just put them all in a masterlist that I have pinned on my profile.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, unhealthy family dynamic

_______________________________________________

When I woke up the next morning, all I could think about was getting rid of my pounding headache and unbearable dry mouth. After throwing it all up last night, I thought I would've gotten everything out of my system. Obviously not.

I was partially thankful for Rafe being there for me the night before. The other part of me was mad he had to see me that way. I wasn’t exactly embarrassed- that isn’t the right word. We grew up together. He’s seen me embarrass myself plenty of times. I couldn’t place a finger on what I was feeling, but it was somewhere in between a heavy awkwardness and a slight comfort.

I sat up, clutching my head, and searched for my water bottle from the night before. I picked it up, but on second thought decided not to drink out of it. My mouth had been on it before I used the mouthwash last night.

I checked my phone, seeing that it was only 8:30, and saw 3 missed texts from my friends.

One from Sarah:

Hey, Rafe told me you guys made it back. Let me know if you need anything!

She's the best.

Another from Kie:

Sarah said you left with Rafe last night? I feel bad for you

And one more from JJ:

Sorry for last night

I made a mental note to respond to them after I found some water and Advil. I slowly got out of Sarah's bed, hearing voices downstairs. I followed the sound of the voices until I reached the kitchen where Rafe and Topper had clearly just cleaned.

As I enter the room in search of water, Topper says, "So, Megan really didn't stay over last night?"

I grab a water bottle out of the refrigerator, turning toward them to listen to their conversation. "Nah," Rafe replied, shaking his head and putting the remaining empty beer cans from the counter into a large trash bag.

Topper shook his head in disbelief, "I feel like you're lying, dude. She has been all over you lately."

I froze in place, trying not to announce my presence until I hear the end of this conversation.

"I told you, I'm not feeling it." Rafe said dismissively, tying off the garbage back and setting it aside. As he turns to grab more cleaning supplies from underneath the sink he notices me.

His eyes catch on me for a moment, a smirk in the corner of his mouth, before returning to his duties.

"Morning," he says, grabbing a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle.

"Morning," I reply, walking around the counter to sit in the chair next to Topper. "So, who's Megan?" I ask, looking at my brother for an answer.

"Just this hot girl that has been all over Rafe the past few weeks," Topper shrugs, saying it as if it's common knowledge.

"Ooooh," I say, "Do you have a picture?" I ask, masking my true intentions with feigned interest.

"Yeah, let me pull up her Instagram." Topper says, pulling out his phone.

Rafe breathes out harshly before saying, "I told you, I'm not into it."

I glance up and lock eyes with him for a moment, raising my eyebrows in question. He shakes his head in response.

The silent exchange goes unnoticed by my brother, who had already pulled up Megan's Instagram. He holds out the phone for me to take, allowing me to scroll through her photos. I had to admit, the girl was hot. She had long, thick hair and glowing skin. Part of me admired her, and part of me also resented her existence. I scrolled through all of her recent photos before coming across a recent photo at the beach.

"Damn, Rafe," I said, "She is hot!"

"See?" Topper encouraged, "That's what I'm telling you."

Rafe rolls his eyes, not acknowledging our comments. We sit there a little while longer as Topper recounts all of the events from the night before. I zone out, not really caring to hear about all of the stupid kook drama. I find myself instead watching Rafe as he finishes cleaning. I start to wonder more about this Megan girl.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as Topper announced, "And that's why right before you came down here I was just thanking my good buddy Rafe for not letting my baby sis sleep at a pogues house. Right Rafe?" He looked at Rafe proudly, seeking his confirmation.

"Anytime, Top." Rafe said dryly, "Now I don't want to be that guy, but you guys need to go before Ward gets back. His flight is coming in early."

We both nod, standing up from our chairs. Topper said he was going to grab his keys from upstairs, but I already had my purse ready to go. I just needed to give Rafe his clothes back.

I walked toward him in the empty kitchen, about to ask what he wanted me to do with them, but he spoke up first, "You can just keep those for now. Give them to Sarah or something next time you see her." He said, nonchalantly.

I nodded, taking a sip of my water. I leaned against the wall as he grabbed a bottle of water for himself. "Rafe?" I ask.

He hums in acknowledgment.

"Thanks again, for everything. It means a lot." I say genuinely, smiling bashfully up at him.

He looks at me, then back at the hall, then back to me and a smirk crosses his face. "No problem, you feeling okay today?"

I shrug, "Not the best, but I expected it."

He nods, stepping closer to me, "You need anything?"

My heart beat picks up a little bit but I shake my head and try not to show how our close proximity is affecting me, "All good, thanks."

He nods, extending a hand to the sleeve of his sweater on my body, “This fits you well,” he says, his fingers playing with the fabric.

I blush, looking down at his hand, “It’s nice.”

He takes a step closer, about to speak again when Topper calls out, “You ready?”

I take a step back from Rafe, causing him to drop his hand, “Yep! Coming!” I call back, turning to leave the kitchen.

Before I exit the the room, I give Rafe a small smile, which he returns.

This is the Rafe Cameron I know. Not the one everyone always tells me about. Not the one they’ve made up those horrible rumors about. This right here is my version of Rafe.

The ride home with Topper is silent. We’re both terribly hungover and we only speak briefly about stopping for breakfast.

When we arrive back at my house I immediately go to my room to get cleaned up. I still felt disgusting from the night before.

After showering, drying my hair, and putting on a change of clothes I text Kie to see what everybody is doing today.

I go downstairs to the kitchen to find Topper cooking lunch. The smell makes me queasy, so I opt for some crackers from the pantry. I take a seat at the kitchen island in front of him and find myself looking up this Megan girl on Instagram again.

“Where are mom and dad?” I ask after a while, looking up from my phone.

He stirs the pot on the stove and replies, “I think they had some golf tournament at the club today.”

I nod, of course they do. To my benefit, this means they will probably be there most of the day. This means I can enjoy my day with my friends without their permission or their judgment.

With excellent timing, Kie texts back:

Me JJ and Pope are hanging at the Wreck if u wanna come

I smile, standing up from my place and leaving the kitchen to get my purse.

“I’m going out!” I call to Topper when I reach the bottom of the stairs, where my bag is hanging.

“Where?” He asks.

“The Wreck,” I respond, walking back to the kitchen and giving him the most innocent smile I could, “Don’t tell mom and dad?”

He shakes his head, scoffing, “They don’t want you hanging out with them for a reason, you know.”

I purse my lips, looking away, “If you don’t tell them I went, I won’t tell them how drunk you were last night.” I propose, sticking out my hand for him to shake.

He shakes his head again, rolling his eyes but extending his hand to shake mine, “Fine. But be home before dinner. We’re meeting them at the club when they’re done golfing.”

“Deal!” I say, walking away and heading out the door.

When I arrive at the Wreck, Kie and Pope are both helping Kie’s parents bring out food and JJ is lounging at a table with his feet up. I walk up behind the counter and greet everyone, immediately grabbing a tray from Kie.

“Ah, Y/N! So good to see you!” Mrs. Carrera says to me, giving me a side hug.

“Good to see you too!” I say, handing out drinks to the people at the counter.

“Tell your parents we say hello.” Mr. Carrera says, patting my back as he walks past.

I nod, turning to JJ who was watching the scene in front of him.

“Hey blondie!” I say, getting his attention. “The sooner you help, the sooner we all get to hangout. Get to work.”

JJ scrambles out of his chair and heads toward me, hand now above his brow at attention. “Yes ma’am!”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Kie rolls her eyes, handing JJ an apron.

We work for about an hour before the lunch rush dies down. Kie’s parents kindly made us meals to repay us for our service. I finally was able to eat without feeling like I was going to spill my guts again.

We all sat around a table in the corner, finally getting to relax.

“So Y/N,” Kie said, looking with disgust at the boys shoving their food down their throats, “What happened last night? Sarah said Rafe came to pick you up?”

I nodded, looking away, remembering all of the previous evening, “Yeah, Top gets weird about me staying at guys houses so…” I lied, not wanting to say that he actually looks down on all of them- even though they already knew that part.

Kie nodded skeptically. I knew she knew the truth, but she also knew how much I hate hurting their feelings over the way my family perceived them.

She brushed it off, continuing the conversation, “So you had to ride back? With Rafe? I bet that was a nightmare.”

I held back a smile, looking down before replying, “It honestly wasn’t that bad. I ended up getting sick last night and he was really sweet about it-“

Our attention was diverted from the conversation as Pope started choking on his sandwich. JJ patted him on the back until he stopped coughing, finally reaching to take a drink of water and croaking, “We’re talking about Rafe Cameron, right?”

I nod, looking at my friends shocked expressions.

JJ decides to speak up after nobody else does, “Rafe Cameron, and sweet, don’t go together. They just don’t.”

I looked around, all of them nodding in confirmation.

“I tell you guys all the time, he’s not as bad as you think.” I say, not sure if I’m convincing them or myself.

Kie shakes her head, looking at me with furrowed eyebrows, “Y/N. Not as bad as we think? You know everything he’s done.”

I shrug, “Maybe it’s more rumors than you think. That’s all I have to say.”

They all share a look that tells me they don’t agree with me, but let it go anyways.

“Okay since you want to call him sweet, what could Rafe Cameron possibly have done that deserves that?” JJ says, seeming clearly annoyed.

I look around, deciding whether I want to share this with them. They will probably just judge me now, or think I’m turning full kook. I decide to only share some of the details.

I pause for a moment, intertwining my hands in front of me before finally speaking, “He brought me a water…”

JJ laughs out loud immediately, and Pope snickers, but Kie looks at me to continue.

“A water?” JJ practically shouts. “Anyone could bring you a water. That’s nothing. What else you got?” He asked, but it really sounded more like a challenge.

It really wasn’t my place to be defending Rafe to any of my friends. Heck, I had barely talked to him in years. But the little girl inside me who was his best friend felt like I owed it to myself- my younger self- to not let them speak badly about my old best friend.

“He tied my hair back for me and sat with me in the bathroom.” I said slowly, scanning their faces, gauging their reactions.

Pope’s mouth immediately fell open. JJ rolled his eyes, digging his knife into the table, and Kie raised her eyebrows like she was impressed.

“Wow,” Kie said, nodding slightly, “If it wasn’t Rafe we’re talking about that actually would be kinda sweet.”

I roll my eyes, holding my hands up in surrender. “Whatever.” I say, “You guys are right. I’m wrong.”

We hangout there for a while, just talking and making plans for the week when Sarah and John B show up. They pull up two chairs, sitting at the table with us and joining into our conversation.

Sarah stops listening, looking down at her phone with a smile.

“Hey, Y/N,” she says, turning her phone around to show me, “My dad just got back and ran into your parents at the club.” On her phone was a selfie of my parents, her dad, and Rose. “Aren’t they cute?” She smiles.

“Adorable.” I smile brightly back at her, before checking my own phone and seeing the time.

“Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks.

I scramble out of my seat, grabbing my purse and flattening out my hair. “Do I look like I’ve just been working in a kitchen?” I ask.

“Yeah… kind of.. why?” Kie asks, now everyone’s eyes on my frantic behavior.

“Oh, I just told Topper I’d be there to meet him and my parents for dinner.” I say, smoothing down my tank top the best I could. “Does anyone have perfume?” I ask, looking at Sarah and Kie.

They both shake their heads. Great. I apologize to everyone and say my goodbyes before rushing to my car, throwing on a spare pair of heels from the back and hurrying off to the club.

When I get there, I scramble as quickly as possible to find my family, accidentally crashing into someone on my way there, while adjusting my heel.

“Woah!” They say, grabbing my arms to steady us both.

“I’m sorry,” I say, not making eye contact in my rush to find my parents.

Once the hands don’t leave my arms I think ‘who does this guy think he is?’ and then I look up at him.

“You good?” Rafe asks, trying to catch my eyes, hands still gripping my arms.

I meet his gaze, nodding and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I was supposed to meet my family here but I’m late so I was just trying to find them before I get in too much trouble.”

His mouth quirks into a slight grin, nodding and saying, “Come on.”

He takes my arm, leading me through the club. We stop and say our courteous hello’s to a few people, and then eventually find a large table that both of our families were sitting at.

My parents look me over disapprovingly, as if they know exactly where I’d come from. I greeted them, walking around to take my seat- trying to cause less of a scene than I knew I would. Rafe pulled out my chair next to Topper’s and then took his seat next to mine.

“Y/N!” Ward said, standing to give me a side hug.

“Hi, Mr. Cameron,” I smiled at him warmly, taking my seat, “Great to see you.”

He nods, “You as well. Have you perhaps seen my daughter today?” He asks.

I nod, glancing uncomfortably between him and Topper before saying, “Yes, she was just at the Wreck with me and John B.”

His face falls and he shakes his head, “Ah.”

My parents both pursed their lips with embarrassment, shaking their heads at me.

Rafe leaned close to my ear, teasing, “Is that why you smell?”

I feigned offense, pushing his shoulder and letting my jaw drop. He smiles, shaking his head and looking down.

I didn’t miss the heavy eyes that I felt from Ward observing this interaction. I glanced up, meeting his eyes and I swore I could see the hint of a gentle look on his face for about half a second before he looked away.

I looked down at my lap, listening as the adults began to converse about the upcoming party that the club was hosting as a fundraiser.

I stopped listening early into the conversation. I leaned over to Topper, making sure everyone was preoccupied before whispering, “You didn’t tell them, right?”

He turned to me, eyebrows raised in ignorance, “Tell them what? That you were with the pogues last night and today?”

My eyes widened, as I looked around the table- making sure no one else heard, “Yeah, that.”

He shrugged, a cocky look on his face, “You said you’d be here, you were thirty minutes late. I couldn’t lie to them.”

“Topper!” I whisper-yelled, “What does that have to do with last night?”

He shrugged again, “Just thought they should know if their daughter is making our family look bad, that’s all.”

I stared at him for a long time before turning away. I couldn’t believe him. My parents are going to lose it. I’ll be grounded for at least a week. This isn’t the first time this has happened.

I take a deep breath, my fingers tapping on my legs under the table as I try to calm myself down. It doesn’t work. I closed my eyes for a second when I felt breath on my neck.

“You wanna get some air?” Rafe asks, in a low voice.

I lock eyes with him, nodding immediately.

(pt. 4 in progress)

[acourtofthought]

If Sarah provided this information for a reason, I don't think it's because it's going to an Azriel plot:

When we look at Sarah's writing, information introduced typically goes in a direction we weren't expecting:

"Stay with the High Lord" wasn't about Tamlin.

The Starsword belonging to Theia's female heir only lasted for a short while before Theia's heir left it to Nesta.

The bloodline ending with Ruhn did not foreshadow his death as expected.

Az has nothing to do with the Autumn Court. He has nothing to with Jurian and Vassa. He has nothing to do with the Spring Court. All things Rhys mentioned as a concern in the bonus.

You know who does though? Both Eris and Lucien.

I definitely think Eris is a good guy deep down but I think it's possible that Sarah will continue giving him a bit of the Jurian or Loki treatment, where he'll appear to be working against them, possibly looking as if he's betraying them.

Eris went to the human lands to "spy" on Jurian and Vassa:

Eris’s face filled with cool amusement. “I wanted to feel out Vassa and Jurian.”

He was the one who arranged the meeting in Spring and was present when Tamlin arrived:

Cassian growled, opening his mouth, but halted. Eris went still as well. Nesta felt it a heartbeat later. The presence creeping toward them on soft paws. Cassian shoved her behind him just as a golden-furred beast with curling horns leaped from behind the brambles, landing in the forest clearing.

Not to mention he knows of Tamlin's current state and how he's abandoned his people, that his father might have an interest in taking over Springs lands.

And he's the one still doing his father's bidding though we know he wants to take Beron out.

The "betrayer of the NC" theories are making the rounds again, whether because of an interview where some say Sarah confirmed this information (I've yet to see the interview) or because of what Briallyn said to Nesta:

“There are others in your court as delusional as you are. They’ll get it for me one way or another, with the right incentive.

So what if the betrayal will look like it's coming from Eris? A promise to kill Beron would be the right incentive for him.

And we were given this line to show Eris as a part of the NC's lineup:

Starting with Keir, at the head of the gathered crowd. Ending with Eris, standing proud and tall—wearing Night Court black—beside him.

That wording adds Eris into the "There are others in this court" lineup in a similar way that Sarah stretching the Suriels hint of staying with the High Lord did, it's like he was a honorary part of the NC, embracing Night Court black.

He's also showing frustration / jealousy in SF:

She kept her gaze on Eris, who went rigid, rippling with rage. “I do not appreciate being toyed with, Nesta Archeron. My offer was sincere. Stay with the Night Court and you risk your ruin.”

And then there was the way Eris had spoken about the other courts. Something had been off in his words, his tight expression. Was the male jealous?

And Eris's betrayal could include invoking the Blood Duel against Lucien at Berons request:

To help them remember that all it might take to secure Briallyn’s alliance would be to hand over a certain Archeron sister. Don’t be stupid enough to believe my father hasn’t thought of that, too.”

If they knew Elain was Lucien’s mate … It was now another avenue, I realized with no small amount of horror. Another way to strike at the youngest brother they hated so fiercely, so unreasonably. Eris’s bargain with us had not included protection of Lucien.

Nesta barely glanced to Eris, who pulled his assessing gaze from Elain

Of course I don't think Eris and Lucien would fight to the death and I think Eris will be getting a true redemption arc but I could see that setup being a way to kick off the Elucien book, tying Eris, Lucien, Beron, and Elain together in a plot related way so that they can finally deal with Beron once and for all.

[nadvs]

home before dark (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

After Rafe leaves, you make sure every door and window in your home is shut and locked.

You don’t know if Ty would do something as crazy as break in. But there was a time you’d laugh in disbelief at the thought of him hurling insults at you and that was all he did by the end of your relationship, so you’re not taking any chances.

Beneath the fear he impales you with lies a sense of betrayal. He was so good at pretending to be kind. Only a monster could put on such a convincing act just to break your heart.

When you tell yourself he’ll move on soon, you hate that it feels like false hope.

You text Sarah to let her know you made it home and that you’ll see her at tonight’s beach party. Even though Ty will probably be there, you don’t want him having any more power over you than he already has.

You’re determined to have fun. To have a life. Especially because you have someone protecting you now.

Rafe is unnerved as he stands on the beach under the starry sky that night, surrounded by the guys he parties with all the time.

The crowds and the conversations are all the same, but everything is different now. Because he’s looking out for you and it gives him something he hasn’t had in a long time. Purpose.

It’s disorienting to Rafe, going from avoiding you to keeping his eyes on you so persistently. From afar, he watches you laughing with your friends and now that he has a reason to, he takes you in completely.

He’d be an idiot not to admit that you’re beautiful. But he always knew that, no matter how hard he pretended not to notice you.

You slowly drift further away into the crowd. Rafe continues checking on you, keeping you in his sights.

Later on in the night, you’re in deep conversation with Sarah. Being three years her senior, you were much closer to Rafe when you were kids, but now you’d consider her a good friend.

When her eyes widen at something behind you, your body goes cold, expecting the worst. You turn to see your ex approaching you, a nearly empty beer bottle in his hand.

“Where’s Rafe?” you ask Sarah, hushed.

“Rafe?” she echoes in confusion. While she knows all about your ex, you haven’t had a chance to tell her that her brother is helping you put on a farce. You’re sure she’ll be in disbelief when you catch her up.

“Hey,” Ty says gently, his hand at the small of your back. The sensation you once welcomed makes you sick. “Can we talk? Please? I’m sorry about last night.”

It’s no surprise. You’re used to him yo-yoing between belittling you and putting on his nice guy act.

“No,” you respond, twisting so that his hand slips off of you. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

The booze in his system slows him down, but Rafe treads through the sand to you as fast as he can the second he sees Ty talking to you.

Suddenly, Rafe’s broad back is in front of you, a wall separating you from the man who’s tormenting you. When Rafe’s there, you realize Ty doesn’t scare you at all.

“Fuck off,” Rafe mutters.

Ty drunkenly staggers back, creating several feet of distance between you. His face contorts with annoyance.

“You know you’re just a bullshit rebound, right?” Ty calls. You look back at Sarah, who’s watching the exchange in confusion.

“I can’t hear you when you’re running away from me, pussy,” Rafe taunts.

Anger churns inside you at Ty’s words, prompting you to grab Rafe’s hand. You know Rafe couldn’t care less - after all, this relationship is all an act - but Ty calling him a rebound, insinuating that he’s meaningless to you, bothers you.

You pull him away, cupping his fingers with both hands.

Rafe was an inch away from chasing Ty and swinging at him. If it wasn’t for the alcohol blurring his senses, his fist would be aching right now from driving it into Ty’s jaw.

His entire body is stiff with rage, but for once in his life, the tension is dissolving instead of building up onto itself. It’s from the way your hands feel on him.

“What an asshole,” you say. Even though you should probably let go of him, you can’t.

Your touch is so warm. Rafe wants to ask why you reserve kindness for him after he shoved you out of his life. He wishes he could wipe it from his memory, the look on your face after he denied your every effort to talk to him. You grew up, but the disappointment in your stare never changed.

But he doesn’t know how to say all this. He doesn’t talk like that. With anybody. He couldn’t even talk to the therapist his father took him to see after it happened.

Maybe if he had asked him why he couldn’t so much as look at her, Rafe would have told his dad that the therapist’s blonde hair and gentle tone reminded him too much of his mother.

But after she told Ward that Rafe “wasn’t responding to therapy”, all he did was angrily yank his son out of the office, his grasp tight and painful.

Once they made it home, Rafe tearfully rushed to his parents’ bed to try to smell his mother on her pillow even though the sheets had been washed.

He spent most of his childhood pretending he was bigger than he was, eager to grow up. But he remembers nuzzling his head into her pillow that day, hyperventilating and thinking he was too small to know his heart could hurt this bad.

It felt like no time had passed when Rose came into the picture. Rafe knew his parents weren’t in a happy marriage, but he didn’t expect Ward to start seeing another woman so soon.

Rafe angrily confronted his dad, as if a ninety-pound kid could be any sort of threat. It was the first time Ward slapped him. He’s certain that it wasn’t the first time his father wanted to hit him, but his mother had always been his defence. And then in an instant, Rafe didn’t have her anymore.

You reach the shore together, far away enough from the crowd. You pull your hands away from Rafe and cross your arms, gazing at him under the moonlight.

“I wish he’d just stop already,” you say, shaken from Ty’s sudden approach. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Rafe says flatly. But he doesn’t walk away from you. He simply looks out at the dark sea with his hands in his pockets.

The waves crash beside you, the water climbing and retreating over the sand, threatening to wet your shoes.

The last time you stood together looking out at the water like this, you were kids skipping stones over the ocean’s swells. And because he’s not leaving, you take the opportunity to see if he’ll let you in, even just a little bit.

You crouch to pick up a small, smooth stone and try to skip it over the water. It immediately falls straight below the surface. You breathe a short laugh.

“That sucked,” Rafe says. His tone is lighter than what you’re used to.

“It’s been a while,” you retort. “And that rock wasn’t very flat.”

“Sure.” Despite himself, he cracks a smirk.

You can’t remember the last time you saw happiness on his face. He has his mother’s smile.

“You were better at finding the flat ones,” you say.

“I was better at everything.”

“And still so humble about it.” You haven’t joked around with him like this in so long that it feels new. “Prove it, then.”

“What?”

“That you can do better than me,” you say. “Get two skips, at least.”

Rafe keeps his hands in his pockets, looking down at the stones scattered atop the sand. The wind whips around you, threatening rain.

“We’re not kids anymore,” he rasps. If you want to take a walk down memory lane, you can do it alone.

He steps back, inviting the distance that lived between you for years to return. Yet another dismissal.

You step back, too. Your arms are not so much crossed anymore; you’re practically hugging yourself now. You need the comfort and he certainly isn’t going to give it to you.

“Did I do something wrong… before?” you impulsively say. Now that you have his attention, you find a shred of courage to ask him what’s been turning in your mind for years.

Deep down, you’ve always feared it wasn’t just the shock of what happened that made Rafe shut you out. Maybe you did or said something that deemed your friendship not worth keeping. Maybe you were too pushy. Or not pushy enough.

Rafe’s throat tightens. He never planned to have this conversation. He never wanted to.

You see his jaw clench. His silence is loud enough. It’s obvious he’s done speaking.

“Nevermind,” you say dejectedly. You turn, but his deep voice stops you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his protective instinct kicking in again.

“Back to my friends,” you say.

“He’ll just bother you again,” Rafe states. “Come on.”

He tilts his head towards the side of the beach he was on. Looking at the group of the same rowdy guys you always see him with in the distance makes you frown.

No matter how much you’ve missed him, you know that standing silently next to him while he jokes around with his friends will just be a painful reminder of how he chose them and not you.

“I’ll be fine,” you say.

“It wasn’t a question,” Rafe snaps abruptly.

For the first time since you started speaking again, the compassion you always feel for him is overpowered by anger. You know he’s helping you, but his domineering tone reminds you of how Ty speaks to you.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat. The cold tide reaches your feet, soaking your shoes.

Irritation pricks Rafe’s skin. For years, you’ve been trying to force conversations with him, and now, when he’s inviting you to stay by his side, you’re shutting him down?

As you walk away, the feeling of rejection screws a hole into his chest. Then he realizes that this is the cold, empty way he’s been making you feel for years.

“I know,” you say when you see Sarah, acknowledging her puzzled expression, linking arms with her.

You’re about to tell her this is all a game of pretend, but the risk of Ty finding out from anyone overhearing or her accidentally mentioning it to someone is too scary.

“What was that?” she says with a disbelieving laugh.

“Rafe and I… started talking again. The other night. And we’re seeing each other now.”

“Wow,” is all she can say. She glances across the beach, as if looking at Rafe will offer any sort of clarity.

You haven’t spoken much about him with Sarah. Years ago, you’d often tell her how much you wished he’d just talk to you again and she’d tell you he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore.

She knows your relationship with him is strained and basically non-existent. You feel bad for lying to her, but your fear of Ty is too big to take any risks.

As the night carries on, your ex stays away from you.

Before heading home, you separate from your friends for just a moment to throw out your cup when you see a figure approaching you.

Goosebumps grow across your skin as Ty passes by behind you, his keys jingling in his hand.

“You planning on hiding behind him forever?” he asks. “What’s gonna happen when he’s not around, huh?”

You stare at him with a scowl, hoping your face isn’t showing just how frightened you are.

To your relief, Ty continues on his way, crossing into the parking lot. You remember him picking you up in the car you watch him sit in now and how he acted like such a gentleman, all the while hiding who he really was.

He succeeded in scaring you. His words left you unsettled, tears pricking your eyes, your breath shallow. The thought of going home and sleeping alone fills you with dread.

Maybe it was just an empty threat. But maybe it wasn’t.

You need someone to stay with you tonight. You rush back onto the sand towards the other side of the beach.

Rafe’s gaze is fixed on one of his friends telling a drunken story. But then you appear, crossing the distance with a fear-struck expression.

“What’d he do?” Rafe mutters, his body tensing. “Where is he?”

“He left,” you respond. Your anxiety pushes you to hold his forearm for some stability.

“What’d he do?” he repeats.

“He… said some stuff,” you say, voice shaking. “Can you-”

“I told you to stay with me,” Rafe interrupts. He’s seething. This could have been prevented if you had just listened to him.

But the way you’re breathing and holding onto him, as if you’re lost at sea and he’s the only thing keeping you afloat, makes him regret snapping.

“And I didn’t listen because you yelled at me just like he does,” you mumble quietly, letting go.

The comparison stings. He shouldn’t blame you. He knows that. And now that the booze has worn off, he’d love a shot at Ty with nothing slowing him down.

Some of his buddies are watching you two in confusion. They’d never seen you together and now you’re clearly in a heated conversation. Just like a couple fighting.

“What were you gonna ask me?” Rafe says, wishing he hadn’t interrupted you.

You’re unsure if you should ask. But even with your home’s security system in place, who knows how long police would take to arrive after a triggered alarm? You need someone already there in case Ty is crazy enough to break in. Someone you know can protect you.

“Can you stay at my house tonight?“ you mumble. “I’m scared of being alone.”

Rafe falters. He agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend, and staying with you is a boyfriend thing to do, but the pressure of being in an empty house together after years of avoiding you makes him uneasy.

Yet, at the same time, the prospect of being completely alone with you gives him a sense of home that only adds to the confusion that’s been clouding in his mind.

“Did you drive here?” he finally says.

You know next to nothing about Rafe these days, but you do know that he does almost everything alone. He never arrives or leaves parties with people. It’s always just him on his motorcycle.

“I came with a friend,” you reply. “But I can wait until you’re ready to leave.”

His muscles lose some of their tension. You’d be willing to stand here and wait for as long as you’d need to just so you don’t have to be on your own. You’re desperate.

Rafe stays out until he’s exhausted. It’s how he makes sure the second he’s in bed, he can take a shot or do a line and fall asleep right away, giving no opportunity to be subjected to his thoughts.

But guilt is a powerful opponent and this is a fight he knows he’ll lose.

“Let’s go,” he sighs.

After you let your friend know you have a ride home, you make your way to Rafe’s motorcycle with him in silence.

He grabs his helmet from the boot, thoughtlessly about to put it on. But then he remembers he’s not alone for once.

He holds the helmet out to you. You hesitate, about to ask him if he has an extra for himself, but why would he?

“You sure?” you ask.

“Take it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say. Rafe sends a groan towards the starry sky.

“Goddamn it, do you have to be so difficult?” he mutters. The edge of his tone is cutting. You’re fed up.

“I know you’re doing me a favor, but could you stop being so rude about it?” you say.

Rafe exhales in frustration. Shit. He’s sure he’s acting just like your asshole ex again.

“Isn’t the whole point of this to keep you safe?” he says, softness in his voice. “Can you just put it on?”

You look up at him through your lashes. His forlorn gaze extinguishes the fire of your irritation and you relent, accepting the helmet, the shell cold and hard in your hands.

Rafe swings his leg over the bike, turning on the engine. He glances back at you as you put the helmet on.

You steady yourself and straddle the sputtering motorcycle. It’s nerve-racking placing your hands on Rafe’s hips.

With his feet on the ground, he drags his big hands over yours and guides them up to his abdomen.

“You have to hold tighter,” he half-shouts over the engine. You obey, your chest pressing against his back, your arms wrapping around his torso.

You wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is pounding. His t-shirt is so thin. His body is firm and warm.

You appreciate that he gave you his helmet, but you wish it wasn’t in the way now so that you could lean on him and press your cheek between his shoulder blades.

Your mind has run away from you. It’s odd craving someone who doesn’t seem to like you all that much. You still don’t even know why he’s helping you.

As Rafe drives out of the lot, slower than he usually would, he hates that he likes the feeling of you wrapped around him this much. He’s been pushing this sort of closeness away for so long. He didn’t know it could feel so good.

As he drives beneath the glowing streetlights, he can’t remember the last time he felt proud of himself like he does now. The relief that washed over your face when he told you he’d stay at your house is replaying in his mind.

While he’s the one protecting you, you’re giving him something, too. You’re pulling him away from the sense of aimlessness he lives in every day.

Rafe goes to his place first, stuffing the things he’ll need to sleep over into a duffle bag and draping it across his chest, before driving to your house.

When you step through the front door together, he watches you quickly enter your code into the security panel, then rush to shut and lock the door.

You’re clearly still so terrified. Rafe needs to know exactly what Ty did to make you act like this.

“What’d he say to you?” he breaks the silence, dropping his bag into his hand. “Tonight. What’d he say?”

You lean against the door, hands tucked behind you as you look up at him. It’s odd, Rafe being in your house. You never thought he’d be here again.

“He asked me if I’m gonna hide behind you forever and what I’ll do when you’re not with me,” you say. It makes Rafe want to kill the idiot with his bare hands.

“I’d call the police,” you continue, “but they don’t help unless he actually does something. Or if there’s proof that he’s planning to. I just hope he gets tired of it so you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Rafe wants to tell you he’ll be here for you for as long as you need him. It’s a shock that his knee-jerk reaction is to make a promise to anyone, let alone to you.

But it’s no surprise that your focus is on how this is affecting him. He still can’t figure out what could possibly make you think he’s worth the consideration.

“Where am I sleeping?” he asks, settling for the easy way out of the conversation.

You lead him upstairs to the guest room a few doors down from your bedroom. Rafe’s eyes travel over the family photos organized in a neat grid on the hallway wall, watching you grow up through every image.

His heart lurches at an image of four people on the beach. It’s you two as kids, surrounded by your smiling mothers. He hasn’t looked at a photo of his mom in years.

You notice the sound of Rafe’s footsteps stop and you look back to see him staring at a photo. You’ve memorized the wall by now, knowing exactly which one he’s looking at.

What can you possibly say? That you miss her, too? You can’t come close to understanding his grief.

His forehead crinkles, his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, and you swear you see him stop breathing for a moment. Then his gaze darts off of the photo and you silently lead him the rest of the way.

Rafe enters the room you take him to and swings the door behind him without a word.

You get ready for bed and settle under your covers. Knowing you’re not alone helps you doze off within minutes.

You’re in a deep sleep when a loud clang pulls you into consciousness. Immediately, you fear it’s Ty.

But once you hear the tapping on the window, you realize it’s storming outside. A roll of thunder is what woke you up. You check the time to see it’s nearly two a.m.

Thunder rumbles again as you slip out of bed. Your survival instinct is beckoning you to go check on Rafe, to make sure he’s still here in case you need him.

You turn on the hallway light and see that the guest room door is just slightly open. And the bed is empty.

Before you can jump to conclusions, you hear a laugh track spilling out of the television downstairs. He didn’t leave.

You’re pretty sure Rafe doesn’t want you disrupting his solitude. But you need to know why he’s doing all this for you. It’s been tumbling in your mind since he agreed to it. That’s what gives you the push to go downstairs and find him.

(part three)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[watermelonsugacry]

Y/n applying lotion on his torso..!

It would be last minute..and he would run to her and be like

‘Be quick’

NO BC THIS IS THE DOMESTIC SHIT THAT GOES ON ALL THE TIME WHEN THEY'RE ON TOUR TOGETHER

Ever since the couple has arrived to their hotel room, YN has been bugging him about applying sunscreen to his torso. Especially now more than ever since he chooses to basically go topless on stage (she'll never complain about that) while playing in an outdoor venue in Barcelona.

The first time she brought it up was in their hotel bathroom. Harry, fresh out of the shower with nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, was busy untangling the necklaces around his neck when his wife comes into the room. She holds the bottle out to him with a suggestive tone and a raise of her brow.

He stands frozen for a second, eyeing the sunscreen with a contemplative hum before decidedly shaking his head.

"M'good, baby. Thank you."

She narrows her gaze at him, flickering her eyes from the bottle to her husband, before saying, "M'gonna bring it anyways."

YN turns on her heel but before she can fully leave the room, he reaches over and smacks the underside of her bum just to hear her squeak. He chuckles to himself when he sees her hand peek back into the room to show her middle finger at him.

The next time she brings up the sunscreen, is when he's doing a sound check later that day.

She watches from the sidelines, perched on top of an equipment box as she sits in on Harry and the Love Band rehearse before the show tonight. The yellow sunnies sitting on her face help block some of the glare from the bruiting sun reflecting from the massive stage. Everyone has the same idea along with shorts and some type of short sleeve top for their attire.

As much as YN loves to watch Harry in a white tank top, black Ray Bands, and a clip securing his curls on the top of his head, she wants nothing more than to sooth his tan skin with a protective layer of SPF.

While Harry talks some things over with Pauli and the horns ensemble, YN perks up when Sarah waves her over.

Harry's eyes flick over to his wife up on the platform with his drummer, helping apply lotion to the top of Sarah's back before going back to his conversation.

Soon enough, YN's offering sunscreen help to the rest of the band like a mom at a soccer game. Even Mitch rubs some over his arms while YN dollops a blob on his nose. Everyone happily accepts her offer...well, almost everyone.

When the band rehearses Grapejuice, Harry waltz up to where his wife sits as he sings, "There's never been someone else so perfect for me."

When she waggles the bottle in his face, he gives her a cheeky smile, playfully grabbing and tossing the bottle to the side. Before she can even get one word out in protest, he tugs her off her seat and pulls her in close as he sings.

She tries to pull away as he brings them to the middle of the stage, but his grip on her is strong.

His high notes go wobbly as he giggles, watching as YN gives up her efforts to escape. Eventually, she succumbs to his swaying and lopsided smile and slow dances with her husband for the rest of the song.

The last time she brings up the sunscreen is in his dressing room. And this time around, she doesn't ask.

Harry is already dressed for the stage and was busy tying his shoe laces when his wife's heels come into view. Not even a second later, so does that damn sunscreen bottle.

"Put it on."

"M'fine. I don't need it." Harry tries to reason. "It's gonna be night time when I'm performing out there anyways."

He holds back the temptation to smile at her stubborn look but he knows that'll only make her frustrated. But given that the cute pinch in her brow is already there, he guesses there's no point in trying to hide his smirk.

Plus, it's really hard to not already have a pleased expression at the sight of her in a silk blue dress that was only waiting to be taken off of her body by the end of the night.

"I don't care. Put on the fookin' lotion."

"No."

"Your chest has been red since the last show."

"You look beautiful."

"You're getting sunburned!"

"No m'not."

Before he can get another out, YN presses the pad of her index finger into the a spot by the one of the shallows tattooed on his chest and he hisses at the sting from his inflamed skin. He bats her hand away and notices how the yellow imprint from her finger slowly fades back to red. Despite the clear indication that she's right, he still doesn't say anything.

Even married, he can't let go of his pride to being wrong to his love. He's denied her of her help all day that it would only embarrass him and make him look bad if he gives in now.

Knowing this herself, YN tucks her lips in with a shrug. She places the bottle on the vanity and decides to leave the matter alone. She tried, and if he needs to have aloe vera be applied to his skin when it begins to peel, well, he could do that himself.

Despite how frustrated, irritated or upset the two might be at each other before a show, they're never ones of break their traditional pre-show ritual.

She cups his face and presses a short kiss to her husband's lips.

"Have fun out there. You're gonna do great. I love you."

His mouth opens to say something, anything, as she turns to walk out the room, but no words come out. Instead, he's left to finish getting ready with the icky feeling of guilt settling in and that damn bottle staring back at him.

Before the show starts, YN and her manager, Jenny, walk backstage to get to their designated spot in the pit for family and friends. She turns her head to the sound of feet hitting the pavement and a call of her name.

She furrows her brows when she sees Jeff and her husband running up to her, his cropped blue vest in hand instead of on his torso.

"What's wrong? Everything alright?" YN's voice is laced with concern given that he's supposed to be moments away from being on stage.

"Be quick." He pants out of breath. She's confused for a moment at what he could possibly mean. It's when she looks at what he's shoved in her hand that it finally clicks. She's quickly popping the cap off the bottle and squirting some lotion in the palm of her hand. After handing the sunscreen to her manager, she rubs her hands together before lathering up his torso, his abs, his chest--anywhere she can cover.

"Aw did you have to put on a little sunny-screen because your mummy told you to?" Jeff teases in a baby voice before breaking out in a laugh, only to receive a slap on the arm from Jenny.

YN doesn't even hit him back with a witty comment. Too smug, smiley and occupied with smoothing the lotion over her husband's broad shoulders and down his arms to care. So much so, that she doesn't even notice when Lloyd takes a few quick pictures of the couple before running off to take his place on stage.

She rubs the remaining bits of lotion over the apples of his cheeks, his t-zone, and his nose before taking hold of his face to plant a sweet kiss on his lips.

"Okay, yeh all set."

He shakes his head at the smugness written all over her beautiful features. It shouldn't be a surprise to anyone how he always folds for her in the end, no matter how strong headed both of them are.

"You're lucky I love you."

"Please, you're the lucky one."

"Damn right I am," He grins at her giggle as he pulls her back in for another kiss. Too enthroned and stupidly in love with this woman, he doesn't think twice about cupping her cheek with one hand while his arm circles around her waist, deepening what was supposed to be a short and sweet kiss.

"Um, H?" Jeff calls after a moment. "You got a show to do, remember?"

"Mhm, yeah." Harry mumbles out of the corner of his mouth to not completely break the kiss, fully enclosing himself around his wife while her arms go around his neck. "Be there in a sec."

Jenny's back is the the couple, her hands clasped together as she looks up at the ceiling to give them their privacy. She already knows that its best to just let them be than trying to break them apart; for Harry's shows anyway. But when it comes for her singer, she's hustling YN to be on stage, ready to perform, and on time.

Jeff on the other hand is looking down the empty hallway, anxiously looking at the watch on his wrist before scratching at his brow. He spares a glance at the two with a pained expression.

"You Love Birds need to go on a second honeymoon or some something, you horny fucks."

"Way ahead of you, Jeffery."

Harry give a lopsided grin at YN's words, pressing another smearing kiss to her lips. The two weeks they used for their honeymoon back in January was barely enough time for anything before having to go back on their respected world tours. With both of their show numbers decreasing by the week, the married couple plans to go MIA for a very long time: drinking wine at their private villa in Italy, walking along the shore at their getaway beach house in Malibu, tangled under the sheets in their bedroom in France.

From their spot backstage, they can hear the field full of fans begin to scream in excitement as the intro video plays. Desperate, Jeff turns to the wife for some complacency. "Mrs. Styles? Unless you want your husband to be out of a job in the next 60 seconds?"

YN pulls away with a smile, biting her lip as her husband looks down at her like he's one kiss away from canceling the show.

"Think of me when you're out there." She closes her eyes when he bumps their foreheads together, nearly melting when he rubs their noses together; a soft and loving gesture despite the dirty thoughts swimming in his head.

"Always." Harry answers easily, bringing her hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the rock on her finger.

With a new sense of spunk and pump to be on stage, Harry throws a sly wink to his wife before maneuvering around her and walks towards the stage. YN's eyes linger on his back muscles as he lifts his arms in the air, looping them through the arm holes in his cropped vest.

His words are cheeky and light as he says over his shoulder, "You coming, Jeffery?"

.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @harianaswhore @gxbiqs @mvaldez7821 @yourfavplayboybunny @drewrry @thurhomish @roseke @majasophieanna @lilfreakjez @rach2699 @renatavieira