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Oooooh this.... this has the potential to be an amazing series, I vote yes 😁 and he just looks so fine in that picture

just a lil jj x reader drabble i had floating around in my brain. might make it a series if enough people like it 💜

cw: mentions of abuse

the thing about living on kildare island is that it's not that big. everyone knows everyone even if you don't want to. with you living on the cut, you've become very aware of jj maybank and his rowdy group of friends.

you and pope are acquaintances because you both were in the math club together before the club was cancelled due to lack of funding. you don't hang out much outside of class but if you see him, you're not shy to say hello.

kiara intimidates you because, and you'll never say this out loud, she's a kook no matter how hard she tries to prove she's not. she may be a nice person but she is spoiled and privileged in a way kids on the cut will never experience.

john b is kind, always willing to help people who might need it. you've spoken to him a few times at previous boneyard keggers and you've even helped him with his english essay once but you wouldn't say you're friends.

lastly, there's jj. he is an enigma to you. you're actually his neighbour so you've heard and sometimes seen what he deals with on a daily basis. you don't pity him though, you just feel empathetic because your life is pretty similar.

mean parent who is never happy with what you do no matter how hard you try, working odd jobs to make rent because said mean parent is too fucked up on whatever illicit substance they're snorting that week to bother going to work. the physical stuff isn't as bad for you only because your mom isn't as strong and she's easier to subdue when she gets in her rages but nevertheless, you understand him.

the jokes he makes to hide the sadness in his watercolour eyes. the sarcasm to change the subject to anything other than his seemingly never ending bruises. the difference between you two though is that you don't really have friends.

if you asked the pogues about you however; their response would probably be "who?" or "ohhh her!" not because you're quiet and keep to yourself, it's just because nothing about you is memorable. you're a plain jane, guys don't take a second look at your and girls don't see you as competition.

you wish things were different but this is how it's always been and you've grown used to this being your status quo.

which is why when jj comes up to you one night at a party, drink in hand, flirty smile on his face and asked you on a date, your world flipped upside down.

actually @ every fanfiction writer whether you wrote something that got thousands of reblogs and comments and became a staple in your fandom, or you wrote one fic and deleted it, or you write mutilchaptered fics that never get a final update, or write short fics, or long fics, or used to write and now you don’t, or you deleted/orphaned your works, or you only share with friends:

thank you.

sharing your writing is hard. and sometimes it’s thankless. sometimes it’s such a negative experience that I wonder how anyone does it at all. but you are needed; you are wanted. whether or not we properly acknowledge it, you are a vital part of fandom culture. thanks for sharing.

OMG IM CRYING SO HARD! I WAS NOT READY!!! ITS SO GOOD BUT SO EMOTIONAL. I LOVE IT!

home before dark (part five)

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

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

You and Rafe haven’t said anything to each other since your kiss. After a moment of tense silence, he collected himself and you headed back to the party. He found his friends. You found yours.

It’s been over an hour, the sun now nestled below the horizon, and you keep catching his eye in the dark, crowded backyard. You remind yourself that his gaze is so persistently on you due to your arrangement. He’s looking out for you. That’s all.

But he didn’t have to kiss you. He could have opted for something less… intense. Because now your mind won’t stop repeating it and everything that lead up to it. Stoic, unattached, cold Rafe cried. Actually cried. And then he kissed you so gently that your head still feels like it’s spinning.

You look at him again from across the yard. He’s surrounded by the same guys he always hangs out with, but for once, you can see just how lonely he actually looks.

It hurts to think about how he considers you to be the only person who cares about him - you, a reminder of the worst thing that happened to him.

What about his friends? Or his family? Do they all neglect him, unwilling to see past his hard exterior?

When Rafe trails your car to your house after the party, it’s a few minutes past midnight and his body is already feeling the itch for more coke. It’s the best way to numb everything. But he can’t afford to. Not when he’s taking care of you. Not when you looked at him the way you did when you said he could quit.

You glance up every so often to see Rafe in the frame of your rearview mirror, his bike rumbling behind you, his headlight bright.

You reach your home, relieved to see that the mailbox is closed, and pull into the driveway.

After you both come through the front door, you arm the security system, then turn to face him.

“Do you want to take the guest bed?” you ask, having rehearsed it in the car. “Or just sleep in my room again?”

Rafe doesn’t make much eye contact with you. He’s still embarrassed.

“A distraction would be good,” he admits. He can’t fall asleep alone, sober, with nothing but his own mind replaying the humiliation of crying in front of you.

“So, boring you to sleep was a smart idea?” you ask with a small smile. Knowing you’re helping him, even in this silly little way, is gratifying considering how much he’s helping you.

Rafe huffs amusedly, tilting his head. You make your way up the stairs and he follows, chewing on his lip before he can say his next words. The guilt is killing him. Especially when you have nothing but patience and compassion for him.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to…” He stops in the hallway, wanting to get this out before he gets ready for bed. “This morning… I shouldn’t have left like that.”

Rafe’s lids are low and he shuffles in place, like this is the first apology he’s ever given someone and he’s not sure if he’s doing it right.

The way he left your home was abrupt. His tone was harsh. But it was because you did the only thing you’re not supposed to do. You brought up the past. And you can’t blame him.

You decide to try to dismiss the tension between you.

“Couples fight,” you joke. “It’s okay.”

Rafe nods, his gaze still on the floor. You realize right behind him, up on the wall, hangs the photo of you and him and your mothers. His smile used to be so bright.

He steps towards the guest room and when he closes the door behind him, you take the photo off the wall and shove the frame in your dresser. You’ll do anything you can to protect him from any and every reminder.

When Rafe enters your dark bedroom, you nervously take a breath before you speak.

“You can just sleep up here again if you want,” you say. “The floor’s probably not that comfortable.”

“Sure,” he says, hoping he sounds indifferent even though he’s the farthest thing from it.

Kissing you was a thrill and just the thought of sleeping next to you makes his entire body feel like it’s on fire. Being close to you is like its own drug and he can’t get enough.

You smell minty toothpaste as Rafe settles next to you in bed. You stay on your side, faced away from him, as he lies on his back, resting a hand on his stomach.

“I’m trying to think of a boring story,” you say. You shake your head to yourself. “This is weird.”

“Weird?” he echoes, on edge that you’re regretting inviting him to sleep next to you.

“Yeah,” you admit. “My ex used to tell me that I talk too much. I’m still getting used to the idea that someone actually wants to hear me ramble.“

“He said that to you?” Rafe turns his head, looking at your silhouette in the dark.

You stare ahead, eyelids fluttering. It’s a hard subject, but you almost feel like you owe it to him. He was so vulnerable earlier tonight. You want to balance the scales.

“All the time,” you recall. The thought of that idiot berating you ignites rage in his core.

“It was like a power play or something,” you continue. “I think he liked to say things just to hurt me, then get me to forgive him. I… gave him too many chances. Maybe that’s why he keeps trying to get me back.”

“You didn’t bring this on yourself,” Rafe says before even a second can pass.

You breathe out slowly. You know he’s right.

“Yeah,” you say. “I guess it’s easier to feel like I’m responsible in some way because then I’m not just a victim.”

Silence settles between you for a moment, a gap slowly opening.

“You didn’t do anything to deserve that.” The gap closes and your heart skips a beat. Rafe isn’t the type to say something just to say it. You know he really thinks that.

“Thank you.” You pick at a string on your duvet cover. Expecting him to open up is a losing game, but it’s one you can’t stop playing. “Have you been… in a relationship?”

You’ve never seen Rafe with a girl for longer than the duration of a party. But maybe he kept his commitments under wraps. He’s an expert at hiding from the world.

“No,” he says with a cynical chuckle. He’s hooked up loads of times. But a relationship? Not even close.

“Why not?” you ask. Despite his scary reputation, Rafe’s undeniably attractive. And some girls like the scary thing. Maybe you would if you didn’t know there was nothing to be scared of.

“Just haven’t,” Rafe answers. You stifle a sigh. It was a matter of time before he closed up again.

“So, um, I can talk about my day?” you offer. “You fell asleep to that last night. I’ll try not to be offended again.”

Rafe smirks at your joke and taps his fingers against his stomach. You never push him to talk. He appreciates it.

Brushing you off is a reflex. He doesn’t want it to be. You clearly spent more than enough time dealing with a jerk and he doesn’t need to be one to you, too. So, he decides to answer your question. Honestly, this time.

“I think it’s because I… just…” he begins, trying not to stammer, “I can’t stop how fast my thoughts are sometimes. I can’t control how mad I get. There’s no point in getting serious with a girl because the second she hears what my head sounds like, she’ll bail.”

The more you learn about who Rafe is today, the more it hurts. Does he think there’s nothing worth loving in him? That everyone will abandon him?

“The right girl won’t,” you say into the dark. “She’ll want to hear it all.” You hear Rafe chuckle in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically. His mind is a place of high highs and lower lows. He can hardly survive it himself. He couldn’t expect someone else to.

“It’s true.” You’d be that girl if he’d let you. But your very existence plagues him. You’ll never be that girl for him and he’ll never want you to be.

“I know people call me a psycho. They’re not far off,” he admits.

“You’re not that.” You don’t even want to say the word. “If you were, you would’ve laughed in my face when I asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend. But you didn’t. You’re here.”

You feel Rafe shift his weight. His back is to yours now.

“So, your day?” he says.

He’s done talking. And even though you’d like him to share his thoughts with you until sunrise, you’re relieved you actually got somewhere with him. Bit by bit, he’s baring his soul to you, and it’s just as gentle as you remember.

You tell Rafe about your time at the mall today, once again going into meaningless details just to make the story drag.

His heart is hammering in his ears as he lies in your bed, eyes shut, listening to you speak. He’s never admitted to anyone why he’s never wanted a girlfriend. Not even to his closest friends. If they ever asked, he’d say he wasn’t into commitment.

He can’t believe now that he said it out loud, it was to the one person he thought he’d spend the rest of his life avoiding.

Again, Rafe isn’t in bed when you wake up. You find him downstairs, waiting for you just like yesterday.

Before you lock the door behind him, he offers you a simple bye. It’s a reminder that even though he cried in front of you and kissed you and revealed why he won’t let anyone in, you’re still being kept at a distance.

It’ll be a hot day, so you make plans with friends to have lunch at the country club and spend the afternoon by the outdoor pool.

When you get to the pool deck and recline in a lounger, you notice a lot of other Kooks had the same idea today. Scattered along the poolside are groups of a lot of the people you see at parties, drinking and soaking in the scorching sun.

You’re instinctually looking for Rafe. When you spot him on the other side of the pool, sitting in a chair identical to yours, you immediately feel at ease.

It’s probably not a good idea to let your eyes linger on his toned, bare chest. But you do.

You wonder what these days will look like when all this is over and Ty stops pursuing you. Will you go back to seeing Rafe at rowdy parties and spontaneous events like these, hoping he’s okay, wishing you could talk to him but knowing he’ll treat you like a stranger?

You look away. Dwelling on this will only make you sad.

Later in the afternoon, you’re leaning back in your chair under the sun, beads of pool water sprinkled over your skin. You’ve been swimming with your friends most of the day, calm because Rafe is so close by.

Your eyes are closed as you relax in the sun. But then you hear his laugh. Ty’s laugh.

You stiffen immediately, sitting up straight, eyes darting around to match the nauseating sound to the face. Your heart is racing, playing back everything that’s happened in the past few days.

The creepy letter. The footsteps in front of your door. The way he mocked you on the beach, asking what you’ll do when Rafe’s not around to protect you.

“You okay?” your friend asks.

“Did you see...” you begin. You can’t waste another second. You don’t even grab your towel when you stand up.

You walk along the crowded pool, heading straight for Rafe.

When he sees you rushing over, your head frantically whirling to look behind you with every couple of steps you take, his body is injected with a blazing urgency.

Rafe swiftly rises from his seat, leaving his friends to watch him in confusion for leaving the conversation so suddenly.

He helps seal the distance between you and once you’re close enough, he takes your hand and leads you to the edge of the pool deck by an uninhabited rental booth.

You round the wall, earning privacy. Your bodies meet and you yield to him just like you did to your instincts, pressing your cheek against his chest and circling your arms around his torso.

Rafe hugs you back. Tightly. His skin is warm, not a drop of water on him, a sharp contrast to the clamminess clinging onto your skin and bathing suit.

“What happened?” he murmurs. He notices how fast your shoulders are skittering. You’re shaking against him.

“I thought I heard him,” you say. Now, thankfully, all you can hear are the thumps of Rafe’s heart over the roar of swarms of people swimming and sunbathing. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Rafe knows the feeling. He envelops you tighter. He hasn’t used his body to hold somebody like this… ever. He’s used to using it to inflict harm. To hurt. So why does this feel so natural?

“Do you want me to see if he’s here or do you want me to stay?” he asks.

“Stay,” you reply. You always wanted him to stay. His big arms remain wrapped around you, chipping away at the fear you rushed over here with.

Your bodies are curved into each other, his warmth radiating off of him. Rafe hasn’t left the poolside all day. He couldn’t risk a distraction. He needed to be there in case something happened to you. And something did.

And feeling you settle in his arms, the way your trembles start to disappear and your breath grows deeper, is worth it. He’d do anything to keep you safe. Anything.

Eventually, once your stress has become much more bearable, you pull back. Rafe’s hard blue eyes sweep over your face.

“I won’t let him near you, alright?” he says. His hands drag up to your face, palms pressed at your cheeks. You nod with wide, doleful eyes.

You exist in this moment together, like you did in your bed after your nightmare, like you did when you were alone on the beach last night, touching even though there’s nobody around to fool.

Then, Rafe pulls his hands off of you and once again, tension wedges its way between you. He steps back. So do you.

“Do you want to sit with me for a while?” he says gruffly, his stare on the ground now.

“Just you?” you ask. The hope in your voice floods him with sadness. Does the thought of being with his friends upset you that much?

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“Yeah,” you echo.

Your bare arms are an inch from touching as you sit together on the shallow edge of the pool, your legs dangling over in the water.

“I don’t even want to look if he’s here,” you confess, looking down at your thighs pressed against the concrete next to Rafe’s.

“I will,” he says. You see him look up from the corner of your eye. After a moment, he shakes his head. “He’s not.”

“Okay,” you breathe. It’s odd that Ty hasn’t been around. Maybe Rafe really did scare him off for good. “Thanks.”

You’d been in this pool as kids a few times. Not nearly as much as you were on the beach behind his house, but a few summer days, Rafe’s mom would bring you and her children here.

He was always protective of his sisters. You remember his boyish voice calling for his mom whenever Sarah started wading towards the deep end. Now, any time you see him with his sister, they’re snapping at each other.

Again, your mind spirals to who Rafe would be if he never suffered such a terrible loss. He’d probably be close to his siblings, instead of pushing everyone away.

You glance at him, taking in his blue eyes and freckled skin in the sun, and try to smile. But you can’t. A piece of your heart will always be missing because of what happened to him.

When you join your friends, the bright mood you arrived at the club with is gone.

You take a long, hot shower as soon as you’re home, deciding you’ll have a night in tonight. The day was too heavy to try to have any fun.

It’s nearly ten when you settle in front of the tv under a blanket. Just so Rafe doesn’t worry about you not showing up at your mutual friend’s party, you text him: i’m staying in tonight. don’t worry if you get here late. just call me and i’ll let you in.

He calls you within a minute.

“Hello?”

“Did something happen?” Rafe asks. He doesn’t have to be specific - he’s asking if Ty found a way to scare you again.

“No, I’m… just not in a partying mood,” you respond.

“Are you alone?”

You curl up under your blanket, hooking an arm around your legs.

“Yes.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds before he asks, “Do you want to be?”

“No,” you admit.

You remotely open the gate when Rafe arrives minutes later, watching him come up the driveway on his motorcycle through the window.

When he settles on the other end of the couch in your living room, he snorts a laugh.

“Really?” he asks once he sees what’s on the screen.

“Be nice,” you quip. “It’s my comfort film.”

“Still?”

Your heart is in your throat. He remembers. You made him watch it with you once, years ago. You both talked through most of it.

“That’s the thing about comfort films, Rafe,” you reply. “They don’t change.”

He stretches his arms along the armrest and back of the couch, taking up all the space he wants to. He grew up to be so tall and big and powerful.

“Defensive,” he responds. You roll your eyes and smile.

As the movie continues, Rafe watches you and the only word he could use to describe how you look curled up on the couch is cute. His body reacted to your kiss, to the way your curves felt when you pressed up against him in that hug, because of course it did, but it’s more than that.

You’re pretty to him in the most innocent way and it’s like he’s a boy again, confused about how he could be so nervous around someone yet still want to be with them nonstop.

This is getting harder. He’s growing attached and he knows he shouldn’t for both of your sakes. Because you can both try to pretend you don’t have a history, but you do. It follows you around. You can’t outrun it.

“I can find something else to watch if you want,” you say. He tears his eyes off of you before you catch him staring.

“It’s fine,” he says. You nod and let yourself enjoy his company, even though it’s fleeting.

You sit up suddenly when you realize you dozed off. Your eyes find Rafe, who’s smirking at you.

“How long was I out?” you ask.

“How good can a movie be if you fall asleep?” he teases. You playfully nudge his knee with your foot. “Like, ten minutes. Not long.”

“I’m more tired than I thought,” you say.

“Probably from staying up late to talk,” Rafe replies.

“The price I pay for a bodyguard,” you say with a laugh. You rub your eyes. “Are you ready for bed?”

The casual way you ask the question in your fatigue almost makes him dizzy. It makes you sound like you’re a real couple.

Rafe trails you up the stairs and before he turns to change into his pajamas in the guest room, the gap in the wall of photos is glaringly obvious. You removed the framed picture of his mother.

“You took it down,” he says without thinking. He feels the comedown hitting him. Another low his mind is racing through.

The hallway is dim and you’re staring at his back now. You twist your hands together, jittery, like you’re about to take a test and saying one wrong thing will fail you.

“Yeah,” you reply softly. “You don’t like reminders, right?”

Rafe’s body feels like it weighs a million pounds. He’s stuck. Heavy.

“Is that…” He shakes his head to himself. “Is that bad?”

“What?”

“Nevermind,” he says. It’s like pulling teeth, giving a voice to the thoughts that he’s always running away from.

“Not wanting reminders isn’t bad,” you say behind him. “If that’s what you mean.”

You feel like you’ve been wrung out. You’re a reminder. You step towards him, even though he’s facing away from you. You can’t help but want to touch him again.

When Rafe feels your hand cup his, he lets out a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t be trying to forget her,” he says. Fuck. Now that he’s started talking, it’s like he can’t stop. Why can’t he stop?

Your mind swirls as if you’re in a dream. He’s actually talking about his mom. You continue to stare at his back.

“I don’t think you are,” you whisper.

“How would you know?” he mutters sharply.

It’s a defence mechanism. You can tell. He’s trying to push you away. You won’t let him.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say. “But I think what you’re really trying to forget is how bad it hurts. Am I right?”

Rafe’s chest rises and falls with rough, shallow jolts. His heart pounds. His eyes wander over the space where the photo was.

“The last time I…” He’s unable to stop his rushed words. “The last time I had a chance to tell her, I didn’t. I just… I didn’t.”

“Tell her what?”

“That I loved her.”

Your throat goes dry.

“She knew,” you say. You grip his hand tighter. “Of course she knew.”

“She said it and I - I just didn’t say it back,” he stammers. “We hit the wall so hard and she - I know now that she knew she wasn’t going to make it. That’s why she told me she loved me. I didn’t say it back.”

Your heart thrashes against your ribs and your stomach turns with agony.

“Oh, my God. Were you…” you whisper. “Rafe, were you in the car?”

His eyes squeeze shut. He can still hear his mother asking are you okay? He answered yes and she said thank God, I love you and then he saw the way she was slumped over the steering wheel from where he sat in the backseat and he couldn’t speak from fear and he stopped believing in a God the second he heard her take her last breath.

That’s when he found his voice. He started screaming for her to wake up. She never did. It birthed a burning, merciless anger deep inside him that controls him to this day.

The last thing his mother did was make sure he knew he was loved. And he didn’t say it back.

“I didn’t know,” you say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

You heard very little about the accident. It was stormy. She hit a freeway barrier. She died before the ambulance arrived. Nobody ever went into any more detail and you didn’t want them to.

There’s a gaping hole in your chest. Rafe was there when she died. He was with her. You always wondered where he was when he learned she passed away. How he was told the horrifying news.

But nobody had to tell him. Your best friend watched his world end right in front of him, leaving him with pain he has been running from since.

He wriggles out of your grip. Speaking to you is making him live through it again. And if he keeps talking, he’ll say something he regrets.

“I’ll sleep on my own tonight,” he says, voice thin. You watch him disappear into the guest room.

You rush to your bedroom and shut the door so he doesn’t hear the heavy sobs that start to erupt out of you.

You pace around the room, aching from the inside out. Right now, you don’t picture Rafe as the man he is, protecting you, carrying a gun. You picture the boy. At the beach. In the car. At the funeral.

Like a tide reaching a shore, you gravitate towards him. If he rejects you, you can take it. But you can’t handle the thought of him needing someone and you not being there.

Rafe is sitting at the edge of the guest bed when you turn the door handle. You close the distance and sit beside him, wrapping your arms beneath his, tight around his body.

“You can tell me to go away,” you whisper against his back. “I promise I will if you want me to.”

You feel his chest filling and contracting with his harsh breaths. He hunches over, head in his hands.

“Go away,” he mutters. Just like when he was a kid. His voice is deeper now, but his words are the same.

The pain is sharp. It takes everything in you to let go of him. But you do. For what feels like the thousandth time, he denies you a place in his healing, the only thing you’ve ever truly wanted from him.

The tears welling in his eyes fall when he hears the door shut behind you. He can’t do this. He can’t relive it. He can’t disappoint you. He can’t open up all the way and tell you everything because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to forgive himself or put himself back together.

You lie in bed, your chest hurting so bad that you’re not sure it’ll ever get better. It’s like for every step you take forward with Rafe, you take two back.

He held you, kept you from a panic attack today, but you don’t possess whatever it is you need to help him. He can keep you afloat, but you can’t return the favor.

He knows you care about him. He cried about it last night. Evidently, what you offer is still not enough.

He’s just down the hall, so close but at a distance. You pull up your duvet and wish he were beside you, falling asleep to the sound of your rambling.

But no amount of wishing for anything can make it come true. If there’s anything you’ve learned from your broken friendship with Rafe, it’s that.

(to be continued)

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👏👏👏👏👏 yeeesssssss! Love this. Definitely need a part 2!

Just Friends (18+ mdni)

rafe cameron x barry x f!reader

where rafe and barry are your best friends, but won’t stop at the first chance to put you to work.

first obx fic so pls be nice !! and lmk if u want a part two!! <3

warnings: might lead to smut?? drugs, a little bit of objectification

you’re honestly not sure how you stumbled into the friendship of barry and rafe. you had grown up around kooks and pouges, but never really fit in with either of them.

you guessed that’s how you ended up here, hanging out with the neighborhood drug dealer and kook prince, the two people you really felt yourself around.

they loved their weed and coke, but you really only stuck to alcohol. you loved getting fucked out of your mind, and coke and weed didn’t really do that for you. barry and rafe we’re the opposite, but all substances had you all in a different head space.

it was a saturday night and the three of you had no plans; this resulted in you on barry’s couch, drinking beer and watching the boys take turns on the blunts barry rolled earlier.

“just one hit princess” rafe begged you to take a hit of the blunt. They had yet to witness you high, and were dying to see it happen.

“you gotta give it another go eventually, listen to country club over here” barry clapped rafes shoulder, the both of them pleading with you. You had smoked before, but it honestly wasn’t your thing. You thought it was cute hwo much they wanted to see you smoke.

“I know i knkw i will eventually, just not tonight”

they both groaned and you smiled wide, since it was your routinely response everytime the three of you hung out.

You were running low on your beer, “Gonna go grab another, you guys need anything?” You asked as you stood up, fixing your shorts that kept riding up.

“Nope” they said in unison, focused on the video rafe was showing barry on his phone. However, their attention drifted from the phone as you walked to the kitchen, your ass looked fantastic in the shorts you were wearing.

While the three of you were strictly friends, there was no denying the underlying sexual tension that surrounded the three of you everytime you guys hung out alone. You thought both of the guys were hot, and when rafe and barry were alone, they couldn’t help thinking about how it would be to spend a night with you. The attractive was naturally undeniable.

And while you three could keep it together normally, something different was in the air tonight.

A few beers later, whilst you were still aware and in control, you were the perfect drunk. This meant you were extra talkative and a little too horny for your own good.

Rafe and Barry were high out of their minds, between the shared blunts and lines they were snorting, and they couldn’t keep their eyes of off you. You were a giggling mess, eyes bright and glossy, and you’re smile so bright it made them feel a way they shouldn’t feel

“Oooh i loveee this song!” you jump up when the speaker starts playing, and start silly dancing. the boys just watch you and roll their eyes, used to this.

With the extra alcohol in you, you start really dancing to the music, swaying your hips, doing a hw most. While it’s completely innocent on your end, the guys change their composure as they watch you.

“Cmon- Cm-dance with me!” you’re a giggling mess, oblivious to your effect over the two men in front of you. You bite your lip in a smile as you grab rafes hands and pull him off the couch.

He smirks at you, then at Barry, as he hovers behind you as you continue to dance to your song. You sway to the music, and before you realize it, Rafe is swaying too, with his hands firm on your hips.

His hands slowly move up and down your waist, completely innocent. you play into it, continuing to dance, feeling his hot fingers trace up and down you.

It hits you what you’ve done, when his hands start tracing up, closer to your tits. Through the fog of alcohol, you can sense him, and decide to make a subtle move. You grab his sliding hands, guiding them to your tits, squeezing on them with his hands. This sobered you up to how close he was to you, feeling the heat of his breath on your neck.

You smiled at Barry through hazy eyes, watching as he used one hand to smoke his blunt and the other resting on his crotch.

Rafe whispered in your ear, “This okay princess?”

Your “mmmhm” was all he needed as he started planting kisses on your neck, his hands moving down to grip harshly on your hips. He found the soft spot on your neck and sucked, evoking a small moan from you.

“Country clubs got ya fucked up, huh, princess?” Barry says, locking eyes with you as Rafe continues to attack your neck.

You vite your lip to suppress a moan, feeling rafe get hard on your ass “mmmf” is all your foggy head can get out, before you realize barry has gotten up and is walking towards the two of you.

“Can’t expect me to sit here and not join,” he smiles as he comes close and kisses you, placing his hands on your waist. Barry doesn’t waist time, sticking his tongue down your throat as he slips a hand down your waistband.

It was all too much. Rafes hard dick on your ass, placing kisses down your neck, while barry kisses you deep and plants his fingers on your pussy

“We’ll take good care of you baby” Rafe slurrs as his hands make it back up to your tits, more aggressively this time.

“Gotta get princess out of her clothes so we can see her pretty tits, hm, country club?” Barry smirks as he rips your shirt over your head, Rafe undoing the claps of your bra to let your breast spill out.

“Fuck” the guys say in uníson, making themselves laugh. It hits you how tucked up you all are right now.

“You’re a pretty girl, princess” Rafe whispers in your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

“So pretty” Barry agrees “Gonna be our girl for the night princess? Can you do that for us?” Barry asks

“Yes, i can be your girl” You tell them, excited to see where this night will take you.

The only reason I watched hellraiser 😁

Literally resisting the urge to do this with mgg rn 😭😮‍💨 I'm having major Spencer Reid and general criminal minds brainrot rn

Could you write an enemies to lovers fanfic with Rafe Cameron x middle class sassy sarcastic chubby reader where reader and JJ are super close which pisses Rafe off but he completely loses it when JJ starts flirting, touching reader somehow, and ask her out. When JJ runs off somewhere to probably get a drink, a few minutes later, Rafe tells reader to come with him because it concerns her “boy” which is just an excuse to get her alone. She sees that JJ has a hand print on his wrist which causes reader to confront him and yell at him for hurting JJ and Rafe confess his love for reader which leads to praise and breeding kink sex. In this story, Rafe and Reader have known each other since she was 16 and he was 18 because she was his classmate at the kook’s academy

Everything Was Blue

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT and Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.9K

Masterlist

Ever since he stole her spot as class President in their senior year at Kildare Academy, Y/N has had it out for Rafe. She would’ve been fine if he won the vote because he wanted the position, except he didn’t. He only campaigned for the title once he saw how much she wanted it. He was lucky that being VP was enough for her to get into Harvard because she would’ve killed him on the spot if it had. 

The year spent as his Vice President was torture and she made it her life mission to return the favour to him. He would provoke her by sending her out as an errand girl. He would solely focus on the aspects of the job that made him popular with their peers, so when it came to the background work or the less favourable policies, she was left to tend to them. Rafe promised the students to make every Friday casual dress day and Y/N spent a whole weekend by herself working to make that happen while he and the other Student Council Members partied at the Boneyard. She got back at him though by anonymously telling Ward where his bottle of expensive whiskey went. 

To add to her distaste for the Kook, he always antagonizes her Pogue friends and her relationship with them. She may be rich enough to afford Kook Academy, but the number in her parents' bank account was not satisfactory for the Kooks so the Pogues took her under their wing. They didn’t care what she had financially; they cared that she had whipcrack remarks against Rafe and would stand up for them against any Kook who tried to mess with them. She was an honour Pogue and proud of it, especially since hating Rafe was one of the requirements. 

———

The sand gives way to her shoes as she hops out of her jeep. Music coming in front of her tells her the party is already in full swing and she curses Mr. Robinson for being late coming home from his meeting. She reaches into the car to pick up her phone and keys from the passenger seat, closing the door behind her. She spins around to find Rafe leaning against the car beside hers. “For someone who put time-management skills on her resume, you sure are late to the party,” he teases and then brings the red solo cup to his lips. She glares at him. “Well, for someone who claims to be good in bed, you would assume you could make a girl cum. But, at last, I’ve heard otherwise.” She smirks at the way his eyes narrow and continues her journey toward the gathering of people on the beach. He pushes off the car to follow her. “So you’ve been asking how I am in bed. Why? You want to take me out for a ride?” She laughs at the idea, “More like enough girls have been dissatisfied with the service you provide that they felt the need to complain.” 

His mouth gapes and he can’t think of a comeback before she spots JJ in the crowd and makes her way to the Pogue. 

“Hi,” she greets, running her hand along the top of his back to drop it on his opposite shoulder. He turns to her with a smile, “Hey, Beautiful. Where have you been?” “Oh, you know how Mr. Robinson is. He tells you he’ll be home by six and he comes home at nine. C’est la vie,” she complains. He laughs and guides her toward the keg near the bonfire. “Ahh, yes. The things you can do as a Kook. Don’t worry, we can get you caught up.” She nods, “I can only have one though. I’m DD tonight.”

After they get her drink, the two of them approach the speaker and begin to dance. His hands are on her hips, swaying with her movement and her head moves from side to side with her eyes closed. They are both caught up in the moment, so they don’t notice the pair of eyes trailing their every move. 

Rafe can’t stop staring at her. He never can. He pretends it’s because he is scrutinizing her; his heart disagrees—the blue flowers on her catch his eye first. The corset-like top deliciously hugs her curves and he wants to untie the little bow that rests between her bosom. His sight trails down her body to the skirt of her dress. Its flowing design stops him from being able to imagine what his head would look like between her thighs. The high slit does give him a small glimpse that makes him want more. He finds JJ’s hands on her hips and something grows in his heart. A green spot of envy. What is he doing? He shouldn’t care that Pogue is touching her. He hates her. He has to focus on something else. 

Luckily, Hailey sees him in the crowd and wanders over to him. She takes the hand that isn’t holding a cup and places it on her hips, dangerously close to her upper bum. He plays along with her, lowering his face to her neck. His lips ghost her skin. His gaze chances a look at Y/N. His envy flourishes and his grip on Hailey tightens. JJ’s mouth skims the shell of Y/N’s ear and she throws her head back with laughter. 

“I’m going to go take a wiz,” JJ informs the girl after making a joke about the Kooks beside them. She bobs her head and steps back. Kiara slips into the spot occupied by their friend and the girls dance together. 

A plan starts to form at the sight of the blonde’s departure. He keeps his distance while the Pogue dips into the wooded era of the beach. As soon as his enemy makes a reappearance, he rushes forward. “Dude, come quick. Something happened to Y/N,” Rafe advises. The boy is too drunk to question the older man and his concern overweights his suspicion. He follows Rafe, thinking nothing that he is being led back into the woods. 

———

It’s been a while since JJ has returned from going to the bathroom and Y/N begins to worry that he passed out somewhere. She navigates through the sea of people towards where she knows he likes to go to the bathroom when they are at the Boneyard. Her eyes scan every blond, yet she doesn’t detect the one she wants. At the edge of the crowd, she finally locates the man she wants; however, he isn’t in the same condition as he left her in. A purple bruise blooms around his eyes and a red cut on his lower lip drips down his chin. His unaffected knuckles mean he didn’t even get a punch in. “J-jay, what the fuck happened? Who did this?” she worries, taking his chin in her hands. She examines his injuries. “I thought falling face-first into a tree trunk would be fun,” he jokes. “Who do you think did this, Y/N/N? The only person who wants to do this on a fun night out instead of partying.” 

She isn’t surprised. Anger seeps into the back of her throat and she searches for the person she wants to let it out on. He is around the fire with Kelce and Topper. She storms over to him. Her finger digs into his chest and he backs him up against the rocks behind him. “Where do you get off?” she screams at him. He chuckles down at her, “Normally in my bedroom, but I’m not opposed to doing it in public if that’s what gets you going.”  She scoffs. “Please, I’d rather do it with a cactus before I let you anywhere near you.” He fakes a pout, “Aww, you want a partner with an exterior as prickly as your personality.”

Her hand goes up to grip the collar of his button-up. “I’m not fucking joking around, Rafe. Why the fuck did you beat JJ?” she interrogates. His frown turns irritated and he steps forward. “He is a Pogue. What other reason do I need?” he instigates. She shakes her head and lets go of him. “You know what. I don’t have time for your bullshit.” With her attention no longer on him, disappointment replaces his envy. He can’t let her leave. “Wait.” His hand wraps around her wrist and she stumbles backwards. “What?” she questions. She pivots in his direction with rage in her eyes. He lets go of her and steps back with his arms up. His mouth drops open. He stutters, “Uhh.” His brain panics and forgets all the words. She shakes her head and returns to her leaving. He goes into overdrive, taking her hand and dragging her to the parking lot. Out here, the music is muted here. She rips her hand out of his hold and uses it to slap him. “What the fuck are you doing?” she yells. He rubs the cheek she hit. All the words in the English language, yet he can’t seem to string enough of them together to tell her how he feels. 

“I love you?” The declaration sounds more like a question with Y/N spinning her eyes in their sockets. “You can’t be serious. If this is your new attempt at torture, then you have to work on the technique,” she quips, trying again to distance herself from her enemy.

The breath he lets out doesn’t match the length of his others. “August 12th, 2020. At two thirty-four pm, you walked into Bell’s Cafe with Kiara. Your tank top was a blue spaghetti strap tied at the back and your jeans were black with white embroidered flowers. You ordered a blueberry scone and blueberry mint iced tea. You and Kie sat at the booth by the window closest to the door.” 

She interrupts him, “What does this have to do with anything?” He doesn’t acknowledge her inference. “She asked you how you felt about entering your senior year and you told her that you felt confident you would get into Harvard, especially if you spent most of your time doing Student Council work. She thinks she pieces together where he is going. “So you decide you would make my life hard to mess with my chances,” she assumes. His head swings, “No. No. Will you let me finish, please?” He waits for a response and she motions with her hand to continue.

“You like the colour blue and anything to do with it. You bite the back of your pen whenever you are in thought. A habit you are trying to stop. You like to listen to audiobooks in the car. I know those things because everything you do catches my attention and everything I do is to get yours.”

She finally hits the bullseyes, “You took the Presidency so that I would notice you?” Hearing her say it out loud makes him feel childish. His hand cups the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s stupid, I know. You were out of my league and my horny ass brain could only think of idiotic ways to be seen by you. You can’t say it didn’t work though,” he admits. She chuckles, “You really think I want to be in a relationship with you after you jeopardized my chances at getting into Harvard and have made my friends’ lives a living hell.” He steps closer to her, boxing her in against the car behind her. His head lowers to mimic the placement of JJ’s. “I think you like that I light a fire in your heart. I think every hateful stare we exchange is to mask our desire. I think that if I put my hand up your dress and under your panties, my fingers are going to come back soaking,” he says while his hand goes dangerously close to her entrance. “Shall I test the theory?”

His gaze bores into hers, anticipating an answer. He catches the small dip in her head and fulfills his requests. As expected, his fingers come in contact with a wet substance. He brings it up to his lips and sucks it into his mouth. His mouth drops back close to her ear, “Look at that, you are as wet as I thought you’d be. As sweet too. Reminds me of blueberry scones, except better.” His hand falls behind her near her rests and cups the doorhandle. He pulls it open, taking her back off the vehicle to shove her in. 

A thud resonates in her ears and she crawls back to lie down on the car seat. “Can I have another taste, Pretty Lady?” he begs, his eyes flicking down to her crotch. She exhales, “Yes.” He tuts and places his hand on her soft stomach. “That’s not how you ask politely.” She sneers at him, closing her legs and sitting up. “If you want to be that way, then I’ll find someone else to take care of me. Maybe someone with a better track record,” she postulates. She reaches for the handle. He grabs her wrist and spins her to face him again. He growls, “You are going to regret that.” He pushes her back against the seat, throwing her legs over his shoulders. The hem of her dress pools at her waist and her blue lacy thong is revealed. He groans at the wet spot forming. He drags it down his legs and throws it to his back seat. His eyes peek to where it lands. He grins when he sees they are wrapped around his gear shift. Those aren’t going anywhere. 

Her bare pussy shines up at him; he licks his lips in apprehension of his meal. His head dives in, making contact with the sweet substance. She jerks forward in a moan and her fingers attempt to grip his shaved head. The smirk he wears presses against her. The slurping that fills the car is pornographic. She whines at the release of pressure. His chin glistens as he looks up at her, “See, Pretty Lady. You can’t listen to what random people say. You have to get the facts from the source yourself.” Her plump pout has him chuckling and he squeezes her thick thighs. 

He focuses on her bud, sucking and nipping like his life depends on it. His saliva pools at the edge of his lip and it drops at the edge of her entrance. He places his tongue inside of her, curling towards him. Her walls start to coil around him. His fingers pass through his mouth and jam them into her hole at a fast pace. This unravels her and she constricts around him, making it hard for him to pull out. His hand rests on the mound above her clit. He messages the skin and she releases a bit to make it easier for him to remove his fingers. He rises from between her legs. His lips press against hers and she tastes herself on him, causing a need to regrow against her. He grinds his closed hard-on against her. “You did so good, Pretty Lady. You make such pretty sounds,” he murmurs to her. “I’m going to fuck you so dumb that everyone knows who you belong to now. Whether that be from how loud you scream tonight or you start singing my praise or your belly rounds with my baby. You are mine.” 

One hand is used to take off his belt and he yanks down his underwear with his pants. “You ready, Pretty Lady?” he confirms with his eyes on her. She circles her arms around his neck to bring him near her face and connect their lips. “Fuck me right now, or I’m going to go tell everyone that you can’t even find the hole.” A snicker passes his lips and he lines himself with her entrance. He doesn’t give a warning this time as his hips slam forward, causing their pelvic bones to be flushed. He sits up and raises her hips. The new angle mixed with the pace of his pistoning gets his tip where it needs to be to cause her the maximum amount of pleasure. “You are doing so well, Pretty Lady. You are going to make the best mama for our baby. Can’t wait to see you get all round,” he praises. 

His thumb reaches her bud and rubs it clockwise. “Harder,” she orders him, bucking her hips up to meet his motion. He grabs the headrest to anchor himself and drags his cock out so that his tip rests inside of her. His re-entrance is swift and with a harder force than before. “You feel so good, Pretty Lady,” he moans. “I’m not going to last.” She feels the warning jerk that confirms the truth of his words. She clenches around him, helping him to the edge. He spasms inside of her and rides out his high. His limp dick comes out and he is about to lean forward to help her to her second release when she stops him. She uses her hand to bring him up with a shake of her head. “What’s wrong? You didn’t finish, so I was gonna help you out. Can’t have you running around telling people I can’t make you come,” he jokes, trying to get back to work. She kisses him. “It’s okay. I don’t need that right now. All I want is for you to hold me.” He grins at her words and flips them over so she is on top of him. Her head is on his chest. The car is silent and the windows are fogged over from the activities that were happening inside. She decides to get one last word in, “And for you to apologize to JJ.” His grumble has her laughing into the night. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

rafe in a backwards hat is something i just find so personal..

YAAAAASSSSS. not even ashamed 🤷‍♀️

Damn

SORRY, NOT SORRY -RAFE CAMERON

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!listener

Summary: Rafe can be a “good” boyfriend when he wants to be… with a sprinkle of manipulation of course.

Warnings: Naughty language, Fluff low-key from our toxic daddy, ft. JJ being a chaotic mess.

notes: This audio is set during 1x05. Instead of it being midsummer's, it's the listeners birthday! I've been working on this all week and I'm tired of listening to it on repeat, so if something doesn't add up, it's because I got lazy. And I wish Rafe told me he loved me. 😭

word count: Its audio, my panties are wet and so are yours.

Scene one

JJ: Ah, would you look at this! It's our birthday girl!

You: What are you doing here?

Our cutie patootie rambles on then walks off with the security guard.

During this pause count to about 6 or 7.

You: What the hell did you guys do to his face?

Rafe: We didn't do anything… his face was like that when he…showed up.

You: Well, why did you guys corner him in here?

Rafe: We were just making sure... he knew his place. And that he's not allowed here. If anything, we were doing you and your parents a favor, I mean, god knows what he already took.

You: You promised me you wouldn’t start anything tonight, Rafe.

Rafe: Can you give us a minute? I'd like to talk to my girlfriend... alone, so get out. Alright, um, can I speak first since you wanna do this right now?

You: Go ahead.

Rafe: How long have you lived here?

You: I was born here.

Rafe: Yes you were born here, but where - where did you grow up?

You: Figure 8.

Rafe: Yes, you grew up on Figure 8. And where did... our pal JJ grow up?

You: The cut.

Rafe: The Cut. and that's exactly my point, baby. We're kooks. And... what is JJ again?

You: Jesus, Rafe don't start-

Rafe: Come on, you wanna talk, let’s talk. What about communication? Isn’t that what we're supposed to be working on?

Count to 3 during this pause.

You: He’s a pouge.

Rafe: See that wasn't so hard, now was it? Now, let me make something clear, and stop me if you get a little confused - you and me. We’re practically royalty on this island. We’re together for a reason. And before you saying, yes I do love you. I always have and I always will. You’re mine. You’re it for me, sweetheart. And… you’re a kook. So, start acting like one before I do something about it, mkay?

You: God, you’re a dick you know that? How about you leave too.

Rafe: Ugh, look I’m sorry, alright? It’s just… it’s just when I saw him on the patio talking to Sarah I lost it. This is supposed to be your day and I didn’t want him ruining it. Kind of like when… uh… we switched out the coke with flour and gave it to Top because he ate your cupcakes.

You: And how is that relevant to this?

Rafe: It’s sorta the same thing. You - you worked hard on those. Uh, he ate them. I was pissed because they were for me. And you were upset because I wanted to punch him in the throat. Tomato, tomahto. Blah, blah, blah. See you’re smiling, I love it when you smile. I love you.

You: I love you too. And you’re such a sap when you wanna be.

Rafe: And again, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a scene, I just didn’t know how else to get him to leave. You know how JJ and his friends are. All of them are drawn to us like a moth to a flame. It’s sick if I’m being honest.

You: Yeah…

Rafe: Now, uh, can we put this behind us and get back to the party?

You: Thats the smartest thing that’s come out of your fat mouth all night, baby.

Rafe: By the way, I really do think he took something from your bedroom.

You: What?

Rafe: I saw him come down from the hallway, unless he took something from your dad’s office?

You: You’re serious?

Rafe: As a heart attack.

You: But… I’ve never done anything to him.

Rafe: That’s what they do though. You should know this by now. They butter you up, just to take whatever they can right from under our noses. It’s sick, if I’m being honest.

You: So much for trying to be civil.

Rafe: I know, yeah, I’ll talk to your dad, and um, see what we can do. But for now, let’s go celebrate. It’s not everyday someone turns 17.

@rafesapologist @rvfecamerons @sadfury @rafesthroatbaby @rafesaddiction @hockeybabe87 @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @secretly-tumb1r @kingkylie444 @stayonmars @maybankswhore @barbiiecams @princessmisery666 @ilovebarrykeoghan

If you would like to be tagged, I gotchu sis.

I love this so much!!!! Literally was on the verge of tears in the middle of it. You write the emotions so amazingly. Love love love! Great job!! 😁

home before dark (part four)

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

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Rafe is being selfish again. When he offered to sleep in your room, it was so you’d feel safe. But that wasn’t entirely why he did it.

He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t for him, too. Something about being around you gives him a sense of quiet when he’s so used to noise.

It’s disorienting feeling a pull to someone he used to avoid, but life stopped making sense to him a long time ago, so why try to find the logic?

Rafe collects the blanket and pillow from the guest bed he slept on last night, figuring he’ll just sleep on your floor.

The way he touched you earlier tonight is playing like a song in his head. When did he get so soft? He’s hardly ever sober for this long. It must be messing with him. It was just a kiss on your cheek, but his heart pounds when he thinks about it.

Then you noticed his gun and looked at him with such disgust that he knows you’d be horrified to learn what his mind sounds like these days. To learn how much anger he has burning through his veins. You’d run in the opposite direction.

You told him you’ve never said anything bad about him. He’d like to keep it that way. So he’ll take all this fake stuff and enjoy it from a distance, far enough removed from you to avoid taking any risks.

You’ve been tucked into bed for a few minutes when Rafe comes through your open door, darkness filling every corner of the room.

After you accepted his offer downstairs, you parted tensely, as if either of you had said one wrong word, the agreement to sleep in your room together would lose all legitimacy.

Rafe’s tall figure quietly makes a bed on the floor a few feet away. He lets out a low grunt when he lies down, turned away from you.

You stare at his back, thinking about how he said whatever you did wrong wasn’t on purpose. You should probably let it go. He’ll never talk about it. But the curiosity is relentless.

After a few minutes of watching Rafe turn from his back to his side over and over, you break the silence.

“Is your brain doing it again?” you ask. Your voice makes the knot in his chest loosen.

“What?” he rasps.

“Is it not turning off?”

He doesn’t respond. You talked about this hours ago at the party, but it stayed with you. He’s not used to this much attention on him. He usually has to fight for it.

“If it isn’t, maybe I could bore you to sleep,” you offer.

“I bet you could.” A second later, Rafe feels a pillow you threw from your bed hit his chest and roll beside him. He smirks in the dark.

You clarify, “I meant I could distract you.”

“For real this time? I don’t need another interrogation.” You love that you can hear a smile in his voice and hate that you can’t see it. Little by little, he’s acting like your friend again.

“Since when is asking one question an interrogation?” Last night, all you did was ask why he was helping you.

“See?”

“Oh, my God,” you sigh with a laugh. “Okay, let me think… I can tell you about the errands I ran today?”

“I’ll be out cold in a minute.” You laugh again and Rafe smiles up at the ceiling. Making you feel safe feels good. Making you laugh like that feels even better.

“Rude,” you say. “Pass me that pillow so I can throw it at you again.”

In the dark, you watch him reach for the pillow on the floor and tuck it under his arm. You breathe out a chuckle.

You pull your duvet up to your chin, unable to believe that the same Rafe who ignored your every attempt to talk, who wouldn’t even hold eye contact with you, is on the floor of your room, joking around with you.

You start to ramble about the shopping you did after he left your house this morning, getting into every menial detail, down to the long line at the gas station.

At first, Rafe can’t imagine falling asleep to this. Your voice humming through the dark is soothing and even though you’re trying to make your story boring, he’s interested.

But eventually, his eyelids get heavier. You’re dozing off, too, but it’s not until you hear his breaths grow deeper that you allow yourself to succumb to the fatigue.

Your senses are blurred and bleeding into each other like paint on a messy canvas, and while you’re confused, you know one thing for sure: you’re terrified.

Ty’s behind the wheel and the car is barreling down the busy freeway at a vicious speed. It’s storming and he’s laughing and you can’t scream. You can’t even speak.

Anne’s car is coming right for yours and Ty won’t slow down no matter how hard you try to gain control of the wheel and you brace for impact, but suddenly you’re in your fifth grade class and you’re crying and everyone is staring at you.

You wake up to big hands holding your shoulders, gently shaking you. A low and soft voice whispers your name, coaxing you to wake up.

Your eyes open to see Rafe standing over you in the dark and you realize your cheeks are wet with tears. Consciousness slowly wraps around you. It was a nightmare.

Your adrenaline pushes you to sit up, your chest heaving. His hands drop off of you, but he’s still standing and leaning over your bed, inches away.

“Bad dream?” he asks over the sound of your shallow breaths. Your whimpers are what woke him up. Hearing you crying in your sleep like that was painful.

You rub both eyes with your knuckles and try to catch up with reality.

“I was in the car with Ty and he was driving too fast and then I saw your mom-” You immediately shut up. In your fog, you forgot what you’re allowed to say and what you’re not, and by the way Rafe stands straight, you know you messed up.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching for his hand. His fingers are still and don’t curl around yours. The fact that you pull him towards you shows just how disoriented you are. “Can you sleep up here?”

“What?”

“Can you sleep up here?” you mumble dazedly. Rafe’s already sinking onto the mattress before you finish asking your repeated question.

You turn to face him when he lies down. You curl into a ball, your hand still gripping his as you try to breathe slower. You remember your other pillow is on the floor and you lift your head to shift your pillow to the middle so that he can rest his head on it, too.

Rafe stares ahead, listening to your fast breathing and his loud heartbeat. He’s struck that even when you’re in a half-asleep trance, your instinct is to make sure he’s comfortable.

And to ask him to lie next to you. To be close when there’s nobody around to prove your pretend relationship to. You actually find comfort in him. He thought he was starting to find it in you, too, but then you mentioned her.

You shudder when Rafe’s hand twists out from yours, losing the anchor reminding you that none of it was real. But then you realize he did it to put his palm on your cheek.

“You’re good,” he reassures you. He frowns when he feels a tear on your skin. “It’s alright.”

You nod under his touch, your eyes shut, swallowing hard and cupping his wrist. He’s still trembling from withdrawal.

The dream took you to when you were ten and Rafe’s desk was empty and your teacher told the class he lost his mom a couple of nights ago, so you’d spend the period making sympathy cards for him.

It’s important we show him he’s not alone, she said and you were so upset that you didn’t know how to do that when you were supposed to be best friends. You stared at a blank piece of paper for long enough that your teacher told you that you could work on something else.

You did eventually make him a card. And you visited. And you called. And you tried talking to him over and over.

But nothing you did or said was ever good enough. He shut everybody out and you were no exception. Maybe someone else would be mad at him for it, but you couldn’t ever find it in your heart to be. You still can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you say into the dark, wishing he knew just how heavy the pain you carry for him is. You feel frantic now, the emotions washing over you with no mercy, as if you just learned she died all over again. “I’m sorry for everything. You were just a kid-”

“Don’t,” Rafe interrupts. “Just sleep.”

You sniffle and he swears he can feel his heart crack but he can’t indulge you. He can’t open the wound he pretends isn’t still bleeding. He can’t talk about how his life crumbled into ruins and he’s still sitting in the rubble.

He lost his mother, his security, and eventually his mind, and there’s no point in talking about what he can never get back.

Rafe’s hand slips off of your cheek but your fingers remain wrapped around his wrist. He lets you keep holding onto him as you fall back asleep.

The sunlight is coming through slitted blinds when Rafe’s eyes open. He couldn’t see your room last night, but now that he can study the space that is so you, his mind starts racing.

You’re asleep next to him, head tilted towards him on the pillow you’re sharing. He gazes over your pretty features, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips.

How could someone so sweet hurt him so fucking bad? Last night was brutal. You mentioning his mom without any warning was like a sharp jolt of electricity. He was an idiot to think he could find comfort in you.

You’ll always remind him of it. Of the helplessness and the horror and the agony. He can’t handle it. Even if you never talk about it again, your presence alone is a reminder.

You shuffle awake and reach out for him, but his side of the bed is cold. He’s not on the floor, either. You look out the window to see his motorcycle is still where he parked it last night.

When you come down to the front room, Rafe is in the same chair he sat in the night of the storm, grudgingly playing with his ring, staring ahead with a hard frown.

He sees you and immediately stands up, eyes darting away from you like the last few days didn’t happen at all. All his coldness is back.

“Finally,” he grunts. You watch him stalk past you with screwed up lips. “Lock the door behind me.”

You realize he was waiting for you to wake up. And now he’s acting like you’re contagious with something he’d rather die than catch, rushing out of your home, triggering the alarm when he opens the front door.

You follow him to punch the code into the security system and then quickly open the door he closed, watching him stride down the steps towards his bike.

You’re in a haze. Last night, he held you so gently and you fell asleep inches away from each other. This morning, he can’t get away fast enough.

It’s what you said. You mentioned his mom. You knew it was out of bounds, but you were so frightened and disoriented and spoke without thinking.

“Wait,” you say to his back. But Rafe continues on his way, making you feel just like you did in your nightmare. You’re speaking but it’s like nothing is coming out.

“Please don’t go back to ignoring me,” you call louder, a shake in your voice. This makes him pause. You swing the door shut behind you and close the distance, stepping out into the brisk morning air.

You face him and he looks absolutely wrecked. Guilt digs its sharp claws into your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I was out of it.”

Rafe stares down at the paved ground, his jaw tightening.

“You’re always gonna remind me,” he mutters.

His sentence is simple, but it carries the weight of your broken friendship. It hits you that you could never mention the past again, not a single memory or anything about his loss, and it still wouldn’t be enough. You’re a constant reminder.

“That’s why you never wanted anything to do with me?” you say. Rafe looks at you again. Your eyes have lost all their light.

It’s just a part of the reason the bridge between you can’t ever be rebuilt, but talking about it with you is torture, so he’ll let you believe that that’s all there is to it.

“You can go,” you say quietly, stepping back. If being with you just brings back painful memories to him, you won’t subject him to it any longer.

Every muscle in Rafe’s body aches as he drives home. His head is hammering with pain and his bones weigh a million pounds and he’d kill for a hit of anything right now. He needs the escape.

Just when he thought he found a place to slow down, you reminded him of why he’s always running. As soon as he’s sure your ex is done bothering you, he’s out.

As you watch Rafe drive away, the gate opens when the sensor detects a vehicle leaving the property, and you notice the mailbox is open.

You pick up the mail to see an envelope with your name handwritten on it. Panicked, you rush back inside, locking the door. You know it’s Ty, finding yet another way to contact you.

You would’ve noticed the mailbox was open when you got home with Rafe last night. He did this overnight or early this morning.

When you finally find the courage to read his letter, dread forces its way into your body so roughly that you’re not sure you’ll ever feel happy again.

You feel some relief when Sarah texts in the group chat a couple of hours later asking if anyone wants to go shopping. It’s the distraction you need.

It’s late afternoon when you meet her and your mutual friend Lia at the mall, trying to get your mind off of Rafe’s coldness and Ty’s persistence and your own pain.

Afterwards, Sarah invites you both to her house and soon, the three of you are sitting in her room, chatting and listening to music.

The door is open and when a figure passes by, you look up to see Rafe. He glances at you for a second, then goes right back to ignoring you, continuing on his way without another second of hesitation.

When he got home, he took a couple of shots before he fell asleep in his bed. He woke up still partly buzzed and he can’t handle seeing or talking to you right now.

Sarah shakes her head in the corner of your eye. She noticed him, too.

“Jesus, Rafe, that’s how you treat your girlfriend?” she half-shouts. Two pairs of eyes land on you as your friends await your reaction.

“We’re in a fight,” you say, anxious that the topic has come up and that you’ll have to lie your way through it.

“Already? Didn’t you just start dating?” Lia says.

“Yeah, it’s sad,” you say with a downcast laugh.

Rafe chews on his thumbnail as he kneels against the hallway wall. He should’ve kept walking, but he’s secretly hanging onto your every word.

“I still can’t believe you guys are together,” she says. “I didn’t even know you liked him.”

“I did,” Sarah laughs. You look at her with wide eyes. “Come on, you never let anyone say anything bad about him.”

“Why do you?” Your eyes jump to Lia.

“Why do I what?” you say, trying to play it off.

“Like him,” Lia replies.

You figure while all of this is a sham, you can at least answer this question with full honesty.

“He takes care of me,” you say. You think about how you laughed together in your bedroom last night. “And I have fun with him.”

Regret gnaws at Rafe. Even though you’re upset with him, you still speak of him kindly. His growing feelings for you would be so much easier to get rid of if you were like everybody else, writing him off, calling him psycho.

“Yeah, you look like you’re having a lot of fun,” Lia replies with a playful nudge, trying to bring some humor to the room. “Seriously, are you okay? You seem off.”

You believe it. Your mind doesn’t feel any clearer since last night’s nightmare.

“I’m really freaked out because of Ty,” you admit.

“It’s crazy that he’s still bothering you,” Sarah says.

“It is. He won’t stop. I saw footprints outside my front door last night and I think they were his. That would mean he found a way around the gate,” you tell them. “And then there was a letter from him in my mailbox this morning. It was so creepy.”

Rafe’s body stiffens.

“God, that’s like stalker level,” Lia says. “What’d it say?”

The sound of Rafe saying your name interrupts you. You look up to see him standing in the doorway, staring at you. He cocks his head, silently beckoning you to come out.

When you face him in the corner of the hallway, far from Sarah’s room, you cross your arms and let him start the conversation.

“That asshole left you a letter?” Rafe mutters quietly. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Embarrassment turns in your stomach. He was eavesdropping.

“You wouldn’t have answered,” you reply.

“Yeah, I would’ve,” he says sternly. “What’d he write?”

You bite your bottom lip in anguish, choking back your tears.

You’re clearly shaken up. Rafe’s protective instinct overpowers him. He grasps your arm, squeezing gently, giving into his every impulse around you like he always does. You breathe slowly, eyes darting away.

“What did he write?” he repeats. His hand is so warm, a hard contrast from how cold you know he can be.

Your mind turns over the scribbled words on the crumpled page Ty left for you. It was mainly nonsensical, but some phrases stuck with you like a dagger to your heart.

“That he and I are meant to be,” you recall. “And that I know deep down we’re supposed to be together and he’ll keep waiting until I realize it.”

“What a fucking creep,” Rafe snarls, dropping his hand off of you. He’s not going to miss the next opportunity to beat the hell out of the guy and get him away for you for good.

The intensity of your nightmare and the shock from your argument still hurts, and as you look at Rafe, his hair falling over his forehead, his skin pale and his lips pursed in anger, you don’t have it in you to ask him to continue doing this for you.

“You don’t have to do this anymore,” you say. “I’ll stay with friends until my parents get back.”

“What?” Rafe’s pulse quickens. This thing with you isn’t real, he knows that, but it feels like you’re breaking up with him.

“We’re just hurting each other,” you tell him.

“No,” he says. “No. I’m keeping you safe. I’m taking care of you.”

He can’t possibly be hurting you. He can’t be fucking up yet another thing in his life.

“Rafe,” you exhale, defeated. “This whole thing was a bad idea. I’m just a reminder to you. And you’re…”

“I’m what?” he asks.

“You’re always going to keep me at a distance,” you say.

You hang on to what feels like your last shred of hope. You wait, hoping he’ll deny it, hoping he’ll finally meet you in the middle. You thought you had infinite faith that he’d let you in again. But after this morning, you’ve reached the end.

“Listen, I’m…” Rafe begins. Being with you hurts sometimes, but he can’t allow you to be in any danger. “I’m not letting you deal with him on your own.”

“I won’t be on my own,” you respond. He scoffs. Your friends couldn’t scare him off like he can.

“I can’t risk anything happening to you,” he says quickly. “Just… we’ll keep doing this until he finally gets it, alright?”

You’ve been barely grasping onto hope and his words are enough to keep you from letting go. That’s when you accept the fact that you’re doomed. You’ll never give up on him.

“Alright,” you say. Until he finally gets it. Your time with Rafe is limited. But nonetheless, it’s time.

He breathes out in relief. The possibility of disappointing you is more painful than he imagined. He can’t mess this up.

You leave him standing in the hallway, knowing you’ll have to walk away for good when all of this is over. You wonder if you’ll be able to do it without it breaking your heart.

Later in the evening, Sarah invites a few more friends over, who then invite their friends, and soon, the backyard of the Cameron estate is buzzing with conversation and laughter, the beach a glittering backdrop to the spontaneous party. You’re not surprised the space filled up so fast. This is all Kooks do these long summer days.

You find relief in the fact that Ty probably wouldn’t come. Not to Rafe’s house. You stand by your group of friends under the setting sun, the crowd growing around you.

When you spot one of Ty’s friends, your stomach sinks. If he’s here, maybe your ex is, too. It’s best to be cautious.

You search the crowd for Rafe. You noticed him a little while back, drinking with his friends, but he’s nowhere to be found now.

When you break from your group to ask Rafe’s friends where he went, they only offer you shrugs.

You slip into the quiet house, your heart starting to pound at the possibility of Ty finding you and Rafe not being around.

You find Rafe’s name in your phone and dash up the grand stairs, your phone to your ear as you decide to hide in Sarah’s room until you’re sure you’re safe.

It rings once before he answers.

“You okay?” he says.

“Where are you?”

“I’m - uh…” Rafe starts to clean away the lines of coke he made on his nightstand. He never hid it before, but with you around, he’s ashamed of his drug use now. That he needs it. That he couldn’t stay away. He finished his first line before you called. “I’m in my room.”

“I’ll be right there,” you say.

He panics, spilling the powder in his rush, wondering how many seconds he has left before you catch him mid-relapse.

The door opens and he catches your eyes darting to the hardwood floor, covered with coke he didn’t clean up on time.

Rafe’s at the edge of his bed, glaring up at you.

The last time you were in this room, he was just an innocent kid, and now he’s hunched over and drugged up and living through grief you’re not sure he’ll ever be able to bear.

He tries to shove past the shame, focusing on what he’s supposed to be focusing on.

“Is he here?” Rafe asks, standing up, filled with a rush of energy from the drugs.

He approaches you, his pupils blown, rubbing his nose. You stare up at him with concern. He’s so obviously trying to hide the fact that he just used.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I saw his friend and I thought I should find you in case he came.”

“Shit,” he mumbles, erratically shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have left you alone out there.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not,” Rafe says, his agitation growing. He was fighting the urge to use as long as he could. Then he told himself he’d just do a couple of lines and go back downstairs, but something could have happened to you in those few minutes. “It’s not okay. I fucked up. All I do is fuck up.”

You watch him pace back towards his bed, raking his hand through his hair. He’s nearly hysterical.

“That’s not true,” you say. Is that really what he thinks of himself?

“You don’t…” Rafe lets out a defeated huff as he sits on his bed, his head in his hands. “You don’t know me.”

It’s a painful reminder. But he’s right.

He stands up again, his breaths heavy. He needs to get this anxiety and anger and fear out the best way he knows how. With a fight.

“He better not be here,” he mutters.

Rafe stalks past you quickly and you follow him as he rushes down the stairs.

He darts towards the crowd scattered across the backyard. You trail him as he pushes through groups, his fists clenched tight.

He realizes your ex isn’t here and turns to look down at you in the middle of the crowd.

“Who’s his friend?” he asks, panting. You can tell that at this point, he just wants to hit someone. He doesn’t care who. And you’re not going to lead him to a guy who hasn’t done anything wrong.

“He has nothing to do with this,” you say over the chattering surrounding you. “Ty isn’t here, okay? That’s what matters. I’m safe. You didn’t fuck anything up.”

The worry in your eyes is almost too much for Rafe. He doesn’t get you. Whatever you see in him doesn’t exist. He feels like he needs to prove to you how wrong you are.

“I couldn’t last two nights,” he says. “I wanted to get clean and I couldn’t last two nights.”

Your face falls. The ground you’re both on feels shaky. You didn’t know he thought so low of himself.

“It’s not all or nothing,” you say. “You don’t have to get it on the first try. It’s…” You almost say an addiction, but you don’t want to insult him.

“It’s a habit and it takes time to break,” you conclude.

Rafe exhales shakily, his body jittery. He looks so upset that you couldn’t leave his side if you tried.

“I need to get away from all this noise,” you say. “Can we go down to the water?”

Rafe curtly nods. He needs to get away, too. The commotion around him is only fuelling his rage.

You stride towards the boardwalk leading to the private beach. The party wasn’t too loud for you at all, but he looked overwhelmed, so you fibbed just to get him out of the chaos.

You quietly walk towards the beach under the dark orange sky. Even with the baggage between you, it feels good to be by his side like this. You just wish it didn’t hurt him to be around you.

You ran up and down this boardwalk so many times as kids. One morning, you fell and scraped your knee and even though you were fine, Rafe put his arm around you to lean on him the whole way back up to the house so his mother could bandage you up.

Now it’s your turn to help him. However you can.

You make it to the sand. The crowd’s sound is just a dull roar behind you now that you’ve reached the beach.

You look over at Rafe to see his chest still rapidly rising and falling as he gazes out at the sea. You wonder why he was hiding it. He never shied away from snorting lines in the middle of a party before.

But by the look on his face, you can tell. He’s ashamed. His words ring in your head. All I do is fuck up.

“You can do it,” you tell him. “You can quit.”

Rafe looks at you and expels a dismissive scoff.

“Doubt it,” he murmurs.

You settle onto the sand, legs stretched out towards the water.

“Why?” you ask.

He stares out at the sea again, the shallow waves curling and tumbling into the shore beneath the setting sun. When he thinks about the hours you two spent out here, it’s like the memories aren’t even his.

He leans to sit next to you, arms resting on his propped up knees. You want so badly to talk about all the silly games and conversations you had out here years ago, but you know better now.

“Why do you care so much?” Rafe finally says, his voice low. You gaze at his profile and notice his lower lip just barely tremble. There’s a fragility in his face that you’ve never seen before.

You take a breath. How can you possibly answer without bringing up the past?

“I just do. Whether you want me to or not.” You say it with a soft chuckle in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

His shoulders slump. Before all this started, he was sure nobody cared about him. Not really. Not when it mattered. But you do.

You bite your lip, desperate to make him feel better.

“I’m not scared of him when you’re around,” you say. “I didn’t think that was possible. And maybe you weren’t downstairs when I was looking for you, but you answered my call right away. So, no, you don’t fuck everything up. You’re helping me when you don’t even have to.”

“I do have to,” he replies.

“Why do you think that?” You know he has a sense of loyalty towards you, a sense of owing you something, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll give you a warmer answer this time.

Rafe’s heart is racing. He’s failed so much. He failed making his own dad like him. He failed staying away from the coke. He’s not going to fail you.

“You’re the only person left who gives a shit,” he admits, unable to say about me out loud.

His words send a shiver through you. Just like in your bed last night, even though there’s nobody around to prove anything to, you touch him. You cup your hand around the inside of his elbow and squeeze.

Feeling your skin on his is a rush for him every time. The only contact he’s had with other people for years has been violent. But you’re so gentle with him and it unravels his anger.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat. Or he tries to. But he can’t. The coke is making him manic. He took too much. He’s overwhelmed by your affection and he can’t stop what his body’s doing in response.

When you watch a tear run over the curve of his cheek, your shock and concern and sadness give you an ache so painful, your breath hitches.

Before he can try to leave, you lean on him, your temple pressed against his shoulder.

He’s humiliated. He’s actually fucking crying in front of you. So much for being the strong person keeping you safe. Behind everything he pretends to be, he’s weak.

It’s odd to cry in front of someone and not have them tell him to man up. You simply nuzzle against him and tighten your grip.

“Rafe!” someone calls in the distance. “Dude, what the hell? Why’d you leave?”

You both look back to see a group of his buddies stumbling down the boardwalk, laughing drunkenly.

“Shit,” Rafe grunts, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. His friends are probably looking for some blow. They can’t see him like this. He’s pissed you’re seeing him like this.

You can see how his guard is suddenly up again, how frantic he is to cover his tears.

“Should I…” you stammer, “try to get them to go?”

Rafe shrugs, at a loss, pulling the collar of his shirt up to wipe the evidence off of his face.

You watch his friends get closer and your mind rushes through how you can possibly get them to leave him alone.

It’s ridiculous, but it may be the only thing that’ll work.

“Maybe…” You take a breath to gain a bit of courage. “Maybe we just do what we did at the party last night?”

Glossy blue eyes land on you. He thinks back to the way you held each other, the way he kissed your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you say, words rushed. “Maybe if they think you’re in the middle of a hook-up, they won’t interrupt? It’s stupid, but I don’t know what else we could do.”

The invitation ignites a fire in him. Suddenly, Rafe’s hand cradles your jaw and he pulls you in. You were expecting a hug or something tame. But he kisses you.

Everything that felt heavy in you lightens. His lips are even softer than you imagined. Your mouths melt together and it feels so natural that you almost forget this is all a tactic.

Everything in and around Rafe blurs when he kisses you. He doesn’t feel weak or fucked up or like a failure. He just feels you. Kissing him back. Tasting him like he’s tasting you.

You hear Rafe’s friends’ voices grow louder and you pull back, glaring at them.

“He’s busy!” you shout. Some of them laugh, others holler, but the guy at the front of the group throws his arms up and turns around.

“Say no more,” he slurs, laughing. “But hurry it up, will you?”

You watch them stumble back towards the house and you realize you can hear your heartbeat. You wish it was from the rush of getting away with a lie. But it’s not. It’s from the lie feeling this good.

“It worked,” you say. When you focus on Rafe again, his eyes are on your lips. Then, he quickly looks away, his hand lifting off of you.

The air between you is thick and awkward and you nervously clasp your hands together.

He looks out at the water again. So do you. You’re not touching anymore. And even though he’s right next to you, he suddenly feels miles away.

(to be continued)

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Reblogging this so I can read it a little later cause I already know it's gonna be good!

Thoughts of the Past, Fears of the Future

A Rafe Cameron Oneshot

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.9k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

OONA'S MASTERLIST

request for @starkeylvu

requests are currently CLOSED

all AI images are created from prompts i wrote. they are not real images.

Summary: Reader suffered a traumatic accident at the hands of her stalker. In wake of her attack, she returns to the world with no memories of the last year of her life. Determined to get her somewhere safe & back on her feet, reader's boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, brings her to his hometown. But reader's memories are returning sooner than later & the man whose face is blurred from that night is beginning to look a lot like the boyfriend beside her...

            Rafe Cameron was the foundation of everything you knew, & you meant that. When you woke up in the hospital he was the first face you saw. The doctors explained to you what had happened, & he held your hand the whole time.

            “You were attacked.” Your primary doctor revealed.

            “Your boyfriend,” he gestured to the handsome stranger sitting in a chair besides your bed, “reported you missing to the local authorities two days prior to you being found.”

            “Where was I found?” The voice that came from you didn’t sound like your own, It was hoarse, shaky, full of fear.

            “On the side of a road outside the city.”

            A brief flash of headlights blurred your vision & you held your head.

            “I think that’s enough for today.” Your boyfriend had said to the doctor.

            That was a month ago. Rafe had filled you in on the rest of the story.

            You had a stalker. There was no name or face that you could recall. But Rafe told you that in the weeks leading up to your disappearance that you revealed to him your concerns. He insisted on wanting to go to the police, at file a report so it was on record if your stalker ever crossed into dangerous waters, but apparently you had more faith.

            But your faith only landed you in the hospital. Rafe recited to you how on the night you disappeared you were supposed to be getting off from work late. Because of your concerns regarding your stalker, Rafe was to pick you up. But you had gotten off an hour earlier than planned & when you tried calling Rafe that night he had his phone on silence, missing your call. You assumed you would be safe enough to get home on your own. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

            Your stalker attacked you at some point between your work & home, & all of it was lost to you. Not just the nights you were taken, but the entire last year, including your boyfriend.

            You had no memory of the man who you called boyfriend.

            He said that the two of you had only been dating for seven months, having met at a work party. The relationship was casual at first—sex mainly—but eventually evolved into a full-blown relationship.

            That startled you when you first heard it. From what you knew about yourself, you weren’t a ‘casual’ kind of girl. In fact, you had only had sex once before & it was in college when you were young & naïve. Since then, you never really had another opportunity nor cared to seek one out.

            But Rafe recalled you having made the first move. He said that the two of you had been flirtatious all night but after a few drinks it was you who suggested going back to your place. That information alone was more than enough for you to handle.

            You grew angry towards Rafe, accusing him of lying to you because you knew that you had never once in your life being that kind of woman. You were a loner, always had been. Growing up in an orphanage had been a constant reminder that you were not wanted. It shaped your view of the world & made you a quiet person with a bitter surface. Whatever Rafe was feeding you tasted like shit & you called him out on it.

            It was only then that Rafe told you the truth: the real truth.

            “I’m sorry…” He hung his head low as he sat on the foot of your shared be. Apparently you two had moved in together rather quickly. After confessing your concerns about your stalker to Rafe, he moved in to be closer.

            “I have been lying…” You felt your face sour at his admittance.

            “But not for the reasons you think.” You hadn’t gotten that far in your own thought process: the why. But since he had mentioned, your thoughts ran rampant with that single question. Why?

            “You had it rough before, _____.” He began, looking solemnly into your eyes, “You were depressed, lonely, you were even shutting me out.”

            That made you frown but your suspicions had yet to disappear.

            “Our sex life wasn’t as great as I’m making it out to be. But we did have one.” Rafe sighed heavily, reaching for your hands which you reluctantly let him, “You weren’t the flirtatious, confident person I’m making you out to be, but I thought that if I made you believe you were you’d, I don’t know, feel better?”

            “Lying to me would make me feel better?” You pointed out.

            “I know, I know.” Rafe shook his head in shame, “I just didn’t know what else to do. It killed me seeing you like that every day. And then when you finally told me about the stalker… I felt helpless. You were getting worse. Not taking my calls, not answering your door, not even showing up to work. I thought the worst!”

            He blinked his eyes rapidly, & it was then you noticed his eyes had begun to water.

            “So, I insisted on moving in. You put up one hell of a fight, you did, but I had to, scared that if that creepy faceless fuck didn’t get to you that your mind would.”

            The room was silent for some time as you absorbed his words. You felt it was more accurate then the bullshit he fed you before but you still felt wary. Other than that, you had no real reason to question his role in your life. Police confirmed the call logs between your phone numbers, his clothes were strewn about your apartment, there was pictures of the two of you together on his phone—though those were few since you were always camera shy. You just didn’t appreciate him making you out to be someone you knew well-enough you weren.t

            “I just don’t want you to be as paranoid as before, it…ate away at you.”

            You inhaled sharply, “I’m always going to be paranoid. For as long as he’s out there not caught, I’m going to be paranoid. There’s no escaping him. I’m sure he’s watching us right now.”

            Rafe frowned at that, instinctively approaching the windows in your bedroom to peer outside. You were only on the second floor making it easy for anyone to peer in from below, as long as they were standing across the street.

            But Rafe had an idea then, one that although made you feel anxious, you couldn’t say ‘no’ to.

            “So, we’ll leave.” He sat beside you on the bench below your window, his arm thrown over your shoulders, “Come home with me. To my home in North Carolina.”

            Whoa. North Carolina? That was way off the beaten path. You had lived in the city your whole life. But in all honesty, what was keeping you there? You had no family to speak of, no friends, even your coworkers wouldn’t notice your absence. Besides, if you did stay, it would only be a matter of time before your stalker attacked you again, & there was no saying you’d be as lucky as you were the first time he took you.

            So, the plan was set. Rafe & you would be leaving the city & going back to his hometown. It took a month to get everything squared away. You were forced to end your lease early but they let you off easily given your circumstances. Then you put a majority of your possessions in storage, apparently not needing them where you were going. You quit your job & they were polite enough to throw a going away party, but you had been the first to leave. And then, before you knew it, you were in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s truck heading out of the city & towards the coastline.

            Rafe had been right. The further you got from the city the better you felt. The long drive had been fitful in your sleep, still having minor images & flashbacks to what had happened to you, but nothing you hadn’t already told the police.

            “I don’t remember a face. Or anything, really.” Whatever your attacker had done to you had wiped your memory. Doctors had confirmed that you suffered some head trauma, but not the kind that usually affected the memory part of your brain. They suggested it was the trauma of it all that kept you from remembering, but ultimately concluded it was a mix of the two.

            But they had warned you that you may get images of the events that happened & if you ever saw something new, to inform the detectives handling your case immediately. The likelihood of your attacker being caught grew slimmer with every day that passed & you were the key to the case. As much as you dreaded any memories returning, you too wanted to see the man who hurt you put behind bars.

            “Hey.” Rafe’s voice made you jump, his hand reaching for yours in your lap, “You alright?”

            “Y-yeah.” You cleared your throat as you gazed outside of your window the urban cityscape long forgotten & traded by towering trees & plains.

            “We’ll be there within the hour.” His thumb brushed the back of your hand. You nodded, silently grateful for the change in environment. It was just what you hoped you needed.

            “It is so nice to finally meet you!” The blonde woman greeted as she pulled you into a hug, “Rafe never told us he was bringing someone special!”

            You felt yourself falter at that but recovered quickly as she pulled you away to look you over, her eyes dancing across your features before glancing at your mundane, practical clothing.

            “Because I knew I’d never hear the end of it if I ever mentioned her.” Rafe replied knowingly as he handed his bags & your one bag to a staff member of the house.

            Pulling into the driveway of Rafe’s childhood home had taken you by surprise. You imagined you knew your boyfriend came from money before you accident but Rafe had failed to mentioned it in the month you prepared to leave.

            The house was extravagant, timelessly beautiful & akin to its southern architectural charm. It had a million dollar view of the ocean & was filled with the light, warmth, & heart you imagined most family homes to be like. It was everything you never had, & Rafe’s step-mother, Rose, treated you immediately like one of her own.

            “It must’ve been a long drive, you gotta be exhausted.” She noted as she kept her eyes between the two of you.

            “Very.” Rafe confirmed as he placed his arm around your waist. “Is our room made up?”

            “Of course, we’re always ready for guests.”

            You smiled a thanks at her as Rafe led you to the grand staircase beyond the foyer.

            “Get lots of rest!” Rose exclaimed from behind, “We’re having a welcome back brunch in the morning.”

            Rafe grumbled at that, rolling his eyes. He said nothing until he led you into a bedroom overlooking the ocean.

            “Wow.” You breathed out, admiring the setting sun in the horizon, “Was this your room?”

            Rafe glanced around the room, “Once. Rose couldn’t wait to turn it into a guest room when I moved out.”

            “Mmm.” You stood by the windows, staring out, already feeling rejuvenated, “When was that?”

            Rafe dropped onto the bed, his arms outstretched as he kept his eyes closed, “When was what?”

            “When you moved out.” You crossed over to the bed, sitting on it with one knee propped, watching your boyfriend relax into the mattress.

            “Couple years ago.” He opened one eye, squinting up at you as the setting sun shined into the room, “Why do you ask?”

            You shrugged, resting your chin on your knee, “Just trying to get to know you. All over again.”

            Rafe smirked at that, rolling onto his stomach until his head was forcing your leg down so he could rest it in your lap. He peered up at you, “Let’s save that for later. I’m tired.”

            You pressed your lips together but nodded.

            “I’m really happy you’re here.” He whispered as his eyes fluttered close, “It’s about time you came home with me.”

            The brunch unnerved you to no end. Rose had came to your bedroom that morning with a dress she had went & bought earlier that morning. Rafe was already gone by the time you woke so you stayed in the bedroom, too awkward feeling to roam about his house where his family lived without him.

            “Oh, that really wasn’t necessary.” You told her but felt elated at the gift. Having grown up in an orphanage, you were not custom to gifts, at least not personal gifts bought with you specifically in mind.

            “Nonsense.” Rose batted away your reluctance, “I’m not as close to Sarah & Wheezie as I’d like to be, so this gives the chance to really have a daughter.”

            Rose smiled sweetly at you, gesturing for you to go to the en suite bathroom & try the dress on, “Well?”

            “Right.” You didn’t know how to say ‘no’, not used to receiving gifts, “Thank you, Rose.”

            “Of course, sweetheart.”

            She was much too young to be your mother but you still felt grateful towards her. From what little you knew about Rafe’s family, his mother had bailed when he & his siblings were young & his father dedicated most of his time to his business. Rose entered the picture only a few years ago & had desperately tried to make the family a family. You could tell that Rafe didn’t appreciate that aspect about her, often passive aggressively making comments about her, but you had never had a family. So, you welcomed it with open arms.

            You slipped into the dress, admiring it in the mirror. It was definitely nothing you would ever wear, let alone own, but it felt nice looking in the mirror & seeing someone who didn’t just dress is drabby, dark colors.

            You re-entered the bedroom & Rose, who had been sitting on a bench near the foot of the bed, rose with admiration in her eyes, “Oh my, don’t you look stunning!”

            “I don’t know about that.” You shifted awkwardly under her gaze. But she approached you nonetheless & began to inspect you closer.

            “Now, all’s we need is a little bit of makeup & some hair styling & you’ll take everyone’s breath away.”

            And so for the next thirty or forty minutes, Rose applied all sorts of make-up to your face & tussled with your hair until it was to her satisfaction. Once she was done, she peered proudly at you, “A totally new woman.”

            With that, she gently spun you around so you could face the mirror.

            Who you saw wasn’t you. Who looked back at you as you stared unbelievingly into the mirror was a brighter woman, a woman filled with content & light. She was everything you were not, but you enjoyed her sight.

            “What do you think?” Rose met your eyes in the mirror as she appraised her handiwork.

            “I think you’re a miracle worker.” You joked.

            She chuckled lightly at that, “I’ve always wanted a daughter of my own.”

            That was a random confession but you turned to her, “I always wanted a mother.”

            Rose’s face softened, nodding in understanding, “I hope you know that you have a family here. Rafe has kept you a secret all this time but I overheard him speaking with Ward this morning about how you were an orphan.”

            You lowered your eyes at that.

            “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Rose told you, “Though I was dealt a better hand in life than you were, I never felt like I belonged to a family until I met Ward. His kids give me a hard time & will likely never see me as their mother, but we’re a family. And now you’re a part of it, too.”

            You finally looked up at her, your eyes watering.

            “Don’t cry.” She teased, wiping at the sensitive skin under your eyes, “That eyeliner isn’t cheap.”

            The two of you shared a laugh before she inhaled with finality, “I left a pair of heels for you in the bedroom. Brunch starts any moment. Finish getting ready & we’ll see you down there, alright?”

            You nodded, steeling yourself against the sudden onslaught of emotions.

            “Rose.” You called after her as she made to exit the bathroom, “Thank you.”

            She simply smiled in return.

            Meeting the rest of Rafe’s family was not as endearing as your one-on-one with Rose. Ward Cameron, the matriarch, was kind enough but carried that urban coolness you were used to from city folk. Sarah was friendly but she cared little to get to know you. As for Wheezie, it was clear she didn’t want to be there in general. But everyone spoke amongst themselves & you were happy enough to just listen.

            Brunch took place on the rear patio of their house. Kitchen staff brought plates & cleared them, refilling glasses as they went. You weren’t too hungry but didn’t want to come off as ungrateful so you forced yourself to eat as the meal carried on. But the pleasant brunch began to take a turn for the worse when one of the staff members accidentally spilled Rafe’s mimosa onto his shirt.

            “Goddamnit!” He yelled, causing all the girls at the table, staff included, to jump in surprise.

            But it did more than just make you jump, it transferred you to a dark memory.

            “Goddamnit!” A voice wailed & you felt your heart racing. You scrambled to your feet & ran blindly through the trees.

            It was him, the man who had been following you. He snagged you off the street, the sweet smell of chloroform filling your nostrils as you struggled against him. You hadn’t seen his face, but when he deposited you into the backseat of his rig, his face finally appeared. It was blurred though as you slipped into unconsciousness.

            A sharp gasp escaped you as you leapt from your seat at the table. You were panting as if you had just been running & tears caked your cheeks.

            “_____, what’s wrong?” Rose frowned in concern.

            Rafe hissed but his focus quickly shifted to you, his eyes staring worriedly up at you.

            “_____?” He said, his voice sounding far away.

            “_____!” His voice hollered behind you as you tripped before rolling down a steep decline.

            When Rafe touched you though, you jumped yet again, this time away from him.

            You stared down at him wide-eyed. Was it…?

            “I’m sorry.” You shakily voiced, “I’m not feeling well all of a sudden..”

            Without another word, you turned away from the questionable look on the Cameron’s faces & raced inside, heading straight for the stairs. Once you got up there, you threw yourself into the room you shared with Rafe & collapsed against the door.

            Your back ached when you came to a stop at the bottom of the steep decline, having been slammed against the trunk of a tree. Panicked breaths escaped you as you moved to army crawl along the forest floor but froze when you heard him above you.

            “­_____!” The voice, his voice, yelled in search of you, “Don’t hide from me! I will find you!”

            But you lied still, deathly still to evade his searching eyes. It was too dark in the forest, not even a sliver of the moon in the sky to aid your attacker in finding you.

            A branch snapped followed by the flapping of birds wings sounded nearby. You listened as your attacker cursed quietly to himself & took off in that direction, the opposite direction of you.

            Now, you had to move now!

            But as you struggled to your feet, you whimpered & fell back down. Your feet were bare, sore & torn apart from running. But you couldn’t lie there, he would find you. With the remaining strength you had left, you crawled away from his last known position. But exhaustion was getting the better of you. Tears blurred your vision as you sought desperately for a way out.

            It wasn’t until you felt the soft, lumpy texture of the forest earth shift to a rough, flat surface that you finally lifted your head. You were on the side of a road. And in the distance, a pair of headlights. You felt yourself collapse against the pavement, your hand outstretched.

            An engine grew closer until it stopped near you. Doors were thrown open & panicked voices sounded.

            “Call 911!”

            You choked back sobs as you covered your mouth with your hands, the memory of you being found filling the gaps.

            A knock sounded on the door against your back, followed by your boyfriends voice.

            “_____?”

            “_____!”

            It was him. The man who attacked you… it was Rafe.

            Rafe eyed you from across the foyer, his expression unreadable as a few police officer’s & detectives stood between the two of you.

            Before Rafe had the chance to console or question your sudden burst during brunch, you had locked yourself in the en suite bathroom & called the number that was given to you by the detective handling your case.

            You didn’t leave the bathroom until they arrived, despite Rafe’s plea’s for you to come out. The detective had contacted the local authorities in the area you were currently in to dispatch to your location until he could arrive. When he finally had, it was late afternoon. Only then did you emerge from your tiled cave.

            Rafe wanted to approach you immediately, concern & mild anger gracing his features, but police officer kept the two of you separate as the detective led you from the second floor to the main.

            “You can use my office.” Ward had offered, his eyes hard as he watched you disappear within.

            Once you & the detective were safe & alone, you revealed to him everything. Your memories, Rafe’s voice in them, how you had no relatives or friends to even confirm his identity of being your boyfriend despite what the police already secured for you.

            He listened intently & without dismissal as you fearfully panted, “Please, get me out of here!”

            He nodded then but it was followed by a frown, “I’m afraid, Miss. _____, that the man who attacked you was not your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron.”

            “What?” You returned exasperated, “But I just told you—”

            “I know, Miss. _____, I’m not dismissing what you’re saying. I’m just informing you that we found the man who took you.”

            What? You faltered at that, frowning deeply before shaking your head, “No, no, then you got the wrong man!”

            You hissed but attempted to keep your voice low, “Rafe took me! I remember!”

            “But you said you didn’t see his face in the memory. Just his voice?”

            “Well, yes, but the rest will return. As far as his voice is concerned—”

            “When you memory does return, you’ll find that the face of the man who took you is this one.”   

            The detective pulled out a piece of paper on it before handing it to you. You flashed your eyes to his before accepting it. On the paper he gave you was an arrest report, the mugshot of a man in his mid-30’s in the top right corner.

            “His name is Jay Shelton, this is the man who took you.”

            But you shook your head, staring at the unfeeling eyes of the man in picture. There was no inkling, no gut wrenching at the sight of his face, no voices in your head screaming at you ‘that’s him, that’s him’! There was no bodily response, conscious or otherwise.

            “How do you know?” You questioned, your voice firm.

            “Because.” The detective eyed you, “He confessed a few hours ago.”

            “He--?” It didn’t make sense.

            “He confessed to everything, Miss. _____. Stalking you, keeping track of your routine, following you home, we even found a few of your possessions in his apartment. He revealed details of your kidnapping that we never told you about. This is the man.”

            “No, but—” But your memories.

            “I’ve been in this field a long time, Miss, & I hope it brings you some sort of comfort when I tell you that thinking the person who hurt you is someone close to you isn’t unheard of. There was a case a few years ago in Florida where a woman suffered amnesia, much like your case, & was convinced that her memories were filled with her father having attacked her.”

            “But it wasn’t her father?” You frowned.

            “No. To my understanding, the mind—when in the process of healing itself—will cling to the faces we know in an attempt to fill in gaps of the memory.”

            “But I didn’t see his face in my new memories. I heard his voice & it was…”

            “The same theory applies. Audio, visual, it’s all the same. What your brain is trying to do is give you answers. And in this case, the answer it clung to was your boyfriend’s.”

            You hung your head, emotions of all sorts racking your mind.

            “I can’t imagine what it is you’re going through, but I hope you know that the man out there, who you are convinced hurt you, was at the police station every day until you were found. Only leaving when we forced him to, but he would always come back.”

            Unshed tears blurred your vision.

            “So, Jay Shelton… what happens now?”

            “Now that we have a confession it’ll go through the judicial system.”

            “And I’ll have to be present for that.” You confirmed without question.

            “Most likely. It’ll take your testimony to get him longer time. A confession can always be recanted.”

            You nodded, “So, I panicked for nothing?”

            “Not for nothing. When I left the city to come here I was prepared to arrest your boyfriend, but I got the call about Shelton halfway here. You did what you thought was right & no one will fault you for that.”

            You deadpanned at that, “Except for my boyfriend & his family.”

            The detective sighed but reassured you, “They’ll understand. Especially once we explain everything to them.”

            “We?” You flickered your eyes to his.

            “From the sounds of it, you’ve been on your own most your life. And with this scary event having happened to you, I think you could use some support in facing your boyfriend. So, we’ll do it together.”

            “Together.” You grinned unsurely at that, but nodded your thanks.

            “Are you ready?”

            “As I’ll ever be.”

            It was late by the time you & Rafe returned to your room for the night.

            The night had been long & hard.

            The detective stayed true to his word & assisted you in telling Rafe & his family what happened. Most understood, your boyfriend included, but the same couldn’t be said for Ward.

            “Nothing like cops coming to my house in the middle of the day for our neighbors to see my son being accused of kidnapping.”

            His reaction had hurt you but Rafe hugged you against him, “Dad. She was scared.”

            Ward ignored his son but the detective had your back. You apologized profusely to Rafe’s family & Rose, much to your relief, hugged you. Ward was still upset & departed to his office for the rest of the night, but Rafe reassured you that he would get over it in time.

            But as you two got ready for bed, you felt most sorry to Rafe. After all, he had done everything in his power to make you feel safe & even brought you home to his family, & then you had accused him of being the man who attacked you, of lying & manipulating you the entire last month. Fortunately, Rafe didn’t blame you, but Jay Shelton.

            “At least he’s behind bars, now.” You added. And Rafe sighed with relief.

            “At least.”

            You went to bed shortly after, falling into a mostly undisturbed sleep. But at some point in the night, you felt yourself wake. Your lids were heavy, your muscles more so. It felt like a dream as you attempted to lift your head but you were much too delirious to do so. Rafe had given you some of Rose’s sleeping pills & you imagined this was one of the effects of them. But as you felt yourself slipping back into unconsciousness, you heard a pair of voices.

            They were far, at least further from your room. As you tried to narrow in on them in your sluggish mind, you felt as if they were right outside the bedroom door. And you recognized both voices, at least you thought you did.

            “That is the last time I cover your ass.” A harsh voice sounded. You frowned in your lethargic state, thinking it sounded like Ward’s.

            “It won’t happen again.” That one sounded like your boyfriend’s, but their voices began to grow further away as darkness lined your vision yet again.

            “It better not. Because then next time, you’ll be forced to finish the job you started back in the woods.”

            Your heart pulsed & panic gripped you but the feelings quickly evaded your consciousness. Sleep awaited you, the drugs working you hard. And as you slipped back into a deep sleep, you felt relieved that you would wake to Rafe, to Rose, to a family you never had.

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Gotta love protective dad jj ❤❤

High School Fight

JJ Maybank x daughter!reader

Summary: Y/N gets into a fight at school.

Warnings: mentions of fighting, mentions of groping

a/n: got this from a comment on this post. so it's kind of a part 2, but not really. loved the idea, thank you to the commenter! hope y'all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

JJ is working on his car, just doing a routine check up. John B is over with his 5 year old son, the boy playing in the yard with whatever he can find while the two adults talk.

JJ's sentence is cut off as his phone rings. He quickly wipes the grease off his hands on a bandana and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He frowns at the number, answering it.

"Hello?" He asks.

"Mr. Maybank?" A woman asks.

"Yeah." He says.

"Hi. This is Alexandra Harrington. I'm the secretary at Y/N's school." She explains, though JJ already knows. "We need you to come down to the school and pick up Y/N."

"Why? Is she okay?" JJ immediately grows concerned.

"That would depend on the definition of okay." Alexandra remarks, only worrying JJ more. "She got into a fight and is facing suspension."

"What?" JJ scoffs.

"Please, just come down to the school." Alexandra tells.

"I-- yeah. Yeah, I'll be right there." JJ says before hanging up.

"Everything good?" John B asks.

"I don't know. Y/N got in a fight at school." JJ informs.

"Ooh. Mini Maybank strikes again." John B grins.

"Shut up." JJ rolls his eyes. "I'll see you guys later."

"Later." John B bids, the two doing the pogue handshake. "Come on, buddy!" He calls out to his son.

---

JJ walks into the school, having quickly changed into clean clothes so he wasn't covered in grease. He finds Y/N sitting outside the office, slouched in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest.

There's a boy and girl on the bench next to her, both quietly talking to each other. He notices the bruises and scratch marks on their faces.

"Hey." JJ calls making Y/N sigh. She doesn't respond, which slightly annoys JJ. "Y/N." He sternly calls, putting his hand on top of her head and forcing her head back. He freezes at her black eye, split lip, and the cut on her cheek. "What the fuck?" His tone immediately changes to anger as he cups her chin, moving her head to inspect the injuries better.

"Dad, I'm fi--"

"What the fuck happened?" He questions.

"The principal will explain it." Y/N rolls her eyes. "Stupid bitch." She grumbles under her breath.

"I want your side." JJ says before he goes into the office.

"Mr. Maybank. Wish I was seeing you under better circumstances." The principal says.

"Right. What the hell happened?" JJ questions.

"Your daughter's a little psycho." The mother of the girl sneers.

"Excuse you?" JJ glares at her. "You better watch it, lady, or you're gonna match your kid out there." He threatens. The woman's jaw drops in offense, giving the principal a look.

"Mr. Maybank, relax. Physical violence is not the answer." The principal quickly intervenes.

"Your kid is the one going around and beating up innocents." The father of the boy says.

"No. No, I know my daughter, she's always got a reason. So your kids are the fucking problem." JJ argues.

The other two quickly retaliate, throwing insults about Y/N, the three adults getting into an argument.

"Enough!" The principal shouts, effectively shutting the three up. "Now... we have two stories. Y/N's story and then Jason and Ashley's story."

"Y/N's a little liar." Ashley's mother states.

"You really don't wanna piss me off, lady." JJ seethes, his hand clenching into a fist.

"We don't have any evidence of which story is true, only our beliefs." The principal says. "Jason and Ashley's story is they were trying to talk to Y/N, make plans, and she just lost it and starting hitting them."

JJ scoffs, his eyes rolling into the back of his head out of disbelief.

"And these idiots believe that shit?" JJ asks, pointing to the two parents.

"Excuse you?" The woman glares.

"You wanna say that to my face, pal?" The man sneers.

"Didn't I just do it?" JJ retorts.

The three teens listen from the outside, Y/N's lips quirking up at her father's remarks.

"Calm down." The principal orders. "Now, Y/N's story is Jason was hitting on her and wouldn't leave her alone even after she told him no. She says she didn't throw the first punch until he grabbed her bottom."

"He what?" JJ fumes, using all of his strength to not go beat up the little boy himself.

"She says Ashley was there with him and taunting her, calling her a bitch and insulting her home life along with constantly tripping her and tugging on her hair." The principal explains.

"I'm gonna--" JJ seethes, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth could break.

"You won't be doing anything, Mr. Maybank. Unless you'd like to go to jail." The principal warns. JJ takes a deep breath, burying his anger.

"So what? She gets in trouble for defending herself?" JJ asks. "That's fucking stupid."

"Defending herself from what?" Jason's dad scoffs. "Jason didn't do anything wrong."

"He disrespected her boundaries. He touched her ass, that's pretty fucking wrong, you dumb fuck!" JJ's voice raises near the end.

"He was being persistent. She was playing hard to get." The guy argues.

"She didn't want him in any way, whatsoever! No means no." JJ states.

"Ashley did no wrong." Her mom insists.

"Aside from being a fucking brat." JJ scoffs making the woman give him an appalled look. "She should also be old enough to know that she should keep her hands to herself. Plus, that golden rule parents are always so insistent about. Nothing nice to say, shut the fuck up. She should learn that rule."

"You do not talk about my daughter that way." The woman sneers.

"She hurt my daughter. I'm not gonna stand for that." JJ says. "Or for your son being a little prick."

"He was just trying to get her attention." The man protests. "Little ass grab never hurt anybody, especially if the girl's a hottie."

Ashley's mother screams when JJ's fist connects with Jason's dad's cheek. The three teens jump at the noise, turning back to see the chaos.

"Mr. Maybank!" The principal yells, rushing over. "Enough! That is enough!" She gets between the two men before they can start a brawl.

"All three children are suspended for two weeks for violating the rules. And unless you want them expelled, I suggest you three take them home and try your best to avoid each other for the rest of your lives. Or at least until these kids graduate."

"If they all graduate." Ashley's mother rolls her eyes.

JJ starts to charge for her, but the principal holds him back.

"I especially advise you to leave, Maybank. For you and your daughter's own good." The principal says.

"No. No, I'm leaving for their own good." JJ points to the other two parents. "Cause if I don't, they're going six feet under a little younger than they anticipate."

The principal sighs as the other two parents start to complain about the threat.

JJ leaves the office, rolling his eyes out of frustration and anger.

"C'mon." He motions for his daughter to get up. He grabs her backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Y/N gets up, JJ placing his hand on her back to lead her out.

"You're a little bitch, Jason." JJ calls back before the two exit the school.

They get outside and JJ manages to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"You okay?" Y/N asks, looking up at her dad, not sure if she should be amused or concerned or both.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." JJ runs his hand over his head, messing his hair up. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't jeopardize your school like that."

"Not jeopardizing it anymore than I am." Y/N chuckles. "Plus, school system sucks anyway. Don't give too many shits."

"Are you okay?" JJ asks, his concerned father side overtaking him as he observes the injuries on her face. He brushes her hair back to get a better look at them, thumb lightly grazing over the black eye.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine. They look worse." Y/N grins.

"Yes, they do." JJ proudly laughs.

"So, am I grounded?" Y/N asks.

"No. No, you're never grounded for standing up for yourself." JJ reassures. "Ice cream?"

"Rocky road." Y/N immediately lights up making JJ softly smile at her.

"Rocky road it is, princess." JJ promises, kissing her on the head.

He opens the passenger door for her and she climbs in, JJ shutting it after she's in. He throws her backpack into the bed of the truck, going over to the other side and getting in, starting the engine.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @mrvlxgrl @star-wars-lover @champomiel @ironmaiden1313

I literally just found you today and wanted to say that I have been non stop reading. You are amazing and your stories are amazing.

When The Bough Breaks MASTERLIST

Summary: Reader is a content housewife to her wealthy husband who she somewhat loves. After a tragedy shakes both their lives, reader & her husband move to the island of Kildare to start over, but an all too interested young man next door will make their new home anything but pleasant…

THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON/CON & DUB/CON. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. MINORS DNFI.

SOUNDTRACK

PINTEREST BOARD

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

PART SEVEN

PART EIGHT

PART NINE

FINALE

EPILOGUE

THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY AMAZING!!!!!

It's... complicated?- Rafe Cameron × polyam!reader & JJ Maybank × polyam!reader

summary: you're in a relationship with Rafe, but a one night stand with JJ turns into more and suddenly you find yourself entangled in a relationship that you don't plan on getting out of any time soon

general warnings: cheating, angst, fluff, smut, swearing, lying, reader being a bitch, talk of marriage angst warnings: mention of death, downward spiral, self-doubt, fighting (verbally), fighting (physically), traumatized reader smut warnings: p in v (unprotected), oral (f & m receiving), 3 way, cnc, creampie/cumdump, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, (heavy) pda, subdrop adjacent, aftercare, foreplay, toy use (not primarily), overstimulation

word count: 19k

author's note: this started as a Rafe fic but immediately my brain fucked me over and then I was too deep to change it so I kept it and decided to explore the throuple idea. I wanted to not have it be cheating plot but I couldn't figure out how to do that while keeping the set dynamic, so I hope you're gentle with me on that :) I genuinely hope you enjoy it, it's the longest one part one shot I've ever written lol (p.s. I wanted to do dvp here but I couldn't find an appropriate place for it, but if you want it, I can write it separately)

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“Can you maybe not do lines on my boobs tonight? Last time you got some on my vintage Chanel dress and I haven't managed to get it out yet,” you ask Rafe while leaning in the door of his room, watching him get ready.  “I'll just buy you a new one,” he shrugs and buttons his shirt up. “That's not the point, babe, and you know it,” you shake your head, swaying your perfect curls. “It's also vintage, and you can't just buy a new one. Besides, I paid for it, not you.”  “You mean your dad paid for it?” he eyes you with a smirk playing on his pink lips.  “Nope, pretty sure that it counts for me now,” you smile, faking it as per usual when the topic of your dad comes up. “Dead people can't pay for shit.”  He steps over to you, tilting your chin up and kissing you. “Let's not talk about him. Instead, we can go and have fun, all right?” 

“Eugh, whose house is this?” you scoff as he stops the car in the driveway. The mansion isn't even half the size of your own, and it makes you feel a little disappointed.  “Hey, be nice,” Rafe smiles and takes your hand up to kiss it before getting out and opening your door for you.  “I am always nice,” you tell him, but he knows it's a lie. Your way of being nice is what other people would call bitchy or bossy. You aren't nice like people want you to be, not since your dad has died. He was the only one who you had tried your best for.  “You know I love to see your claws out, but I have to sell shit tonight, so none of that, please,” Rafe begged, his arm tight around your waist.  You roll your eyes and look up at him, “fine.” 

The party is already going, and a few people greet you while walking in. You find Topper and Kelce rather quickly, taking your seat next to Rafe you let your eyes wander as they talk.  “You know, you guys are boring as fuck,” you groan after having had to listen to them talk about golfing for twenty minutes straight.  “Since when are we here for your entertainment, y/n,” Kelce scoffs, but he gulps as you get up and lean over him.  “Maybe you should suck a dick to fix your fucking attitude,” you snarl and walk away towards the kitchen. You never cared what Rafe's friends thought of you, you never cared what anybody thought of you. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” you roll your eyes at the blonde boy, who's leaning against the counter. His ring clad fingers are holding onto the solo cup, but the flirtatious smile is just for you. You had gathered as much over time.  “One day, you'll beg, y/l/n,” he says and takes a sip.  “Not if I make you beg first, Maybank,” you smirk and take the bottle of tequila to fill two shot glasses.  “I never beg,” he counters, and you laugh.  “Oh, I'd bet my BMW you do.”  “Does Rafe?”  “I won't tell you that, you'd just go runnin’round tellin’ people,” you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and hold the shot out for him to take. “Be happy that I'm keeping him on a leash. He'd have ripped your head off by now if I didn't.”  You watch him take the shot, and follow. The slight burn in your throat wakes you up, and the warmth in your stomach is familiarly cozy.  “And why would he do that?” JJ asks, tilting his head to the side.  “‘Cause you won't stop staring at my tits, Maybank,” you bite your lip and take the step over to him, leaning in and whispering into his ear. “I know how you look at me, as if I'm the ultimate price. But you wouldn't even be able to handle me on your best days, pretty boy.”  “You underestimate me, princess,” he whispers, and you pull away to look at him fully.  “Maybe in another life, Maybank,” you wink at him, grabbing the bottle of tequila and making your way back to the couch. 

“What he want?” Rafe asks as soon as you get back and take your seat by his side.  “Nothing,” you sigh and kiss Rafe's cheek, leaving a lipstick mark behind. He doesn't need to know how much it riles you up when JJ flirts with you. How much you have to suppress the need to kiss him whenever you see him. It doesn't even make sense why it is like that.  JJ and you have nothing in common, and you are happy about that.  You love being in a relationship with Rafe. You don't care much about love anyway, so why would you need to love the person you are in a relationship with if they are perfect on paper? Rafe is everything your dad had wanted in a future son-in-law. He comes from good money, takes care of the people close to him, and knows how to act around money. You don't need to love him to build a good future with him. After all, your grandparents had done it the same way. And when you look at your own parents' life together, you keep wondering if it had really been the wisest decision to marry for love.  No, love was overrated, and so was whatever you felt when JJ looked at you. 

“You sell any yet?” you ask straight out, and Rafe clears his throat and gives you a look that doesn't really make sense to you. “What?”  “You know they won't buy shit when you're here, unless you act it,” he whispers to you and you roll your eyes.  “Fine, but only one,” you cave, and for the next few hours you play the dumb girlfriend. For some reason, all of his buyers are some type of misogynistic asshole, and the only one who you could talk to without feeling looked down on is Barry. But Barry never gets invited to the parties, because he doesn't fit in.  To you, he's not much different than the businessmen your dad had worked with, the same ones you would have to deal with once you were officially taking over the company. 

“Baby, c’mere,” Rafe claps on his thighs, and you turn to straddle him, giving him a single warning glance to not fuck up.  “Love when you use my tits for it, babe,” you giggle stupidly, but internally you feel like throwing up. And it just gets worse when he puts a little line of the fine powder on your skin and dips his head down to snort it off. Your eyes cross with JJ's as soon as Rafe's head is down, and he vanishes from your vision the moment Rafe comes back up, wiping his nose.  “Thank you, baby,” he smiles and kisses you. It's a show. When you moan into him and buck your hips; and for once you're not sure if the show is for his clients, or for the blonde Pogue who can't keep his eyes off of you.  “I wanna go upstairs,” you whisper to Rafe and he nods.  “Just gimme ten and I'll meet you there.” 

You get up and walk off, towards the stairs. A quick glance back to Rafe, who's focused on counting money, before you take the stairs, downstairs instead of up.  You decide to take a look around. The pool is a perfect 80 °F and if you had swimming stuff with you, you'd consider swimming for a while. Training a little to clear up your mind.  “Didn't you tell him you'd be upstairs, waiting?” You hear JJ behind you and turn around.  “And? I changed my mind. He doesn't care if he fucks me here or at home,” you shrug and JJ shakes his head.  “God, you really are something.”  “What do you want, Maybank?” you sneer, walking around the pool towards the sauna at the end of the room. The sound of your heels on the concrete floor echoes through the huge room.  “Why are you with him if you hate him so much?” he asks and starts walking closer, following you.  “I don't hate him. I hate his friends, anyone but Barry, basically. I hate how he acts around them. But I don't hate him,” you clarify, and JJ nods.  “But you don't love him.”  “Who needs love anyway,” you smile. The picture-perfect smile you had practiced in front of the mirror since you were 12, the same one you had to relearn when your dad had died. It was an ironclad mask.  “I forgot, you don't have a heart,” JJ smiles but drops it instantly.  “Tell me what you want, or leave,” you roll your eyes at him and he steps closer. Your heart starts racing as he leans over you, brushing a curl from your face and tucking it behind your ear.  “What do you want?” he rasps quietly and your eyes flutter, it's a reflex, and you don't know why. You don't understand why he has this effect on you.  “Nothing,” you press out, and his thumb ghosts your lips.  “I don't like when you lie to me, y/n,” JJ whispers, and you can't stop yourself from getting lost in his blue eyes. They are so different from Rafe's. JJ's eyes are bright and hopeful, they feel like happiness entrapped to you. And you can't stand it, because this isn't how it's supposed to be.  “Tell me what you want,” he demands, leaning down to smell your neck, his nose brushing against your skin and giving you goosebumps.  “It’s neither appropriate nor allowed,” you hush, and he chuckles.  "Since when do you care about any of that? You make the rules on this side of the island, don't you, princess?” 

You blame it on the tequila when your lips find his. You blame it on the daiquiri when he leads you into the cold supply closet, without pulling out of your kiss. You would blame it on the coke, when he pushes your dress up and sinks into you; but you hadn't had any coke that night. 

“Fuck, you're so wet for me, baby,” JJ groans, he had sat you down on a lower shelf, and you did your best to hold onto the metal structure that was pressing into your back.  “Shut up and kiss me, asshole,” you gasp, and he does just that. His kisses are wet and sloppy, just like his fast thrusts. But you can't stop kissing him, not only because it feels like heaven and hell combined. But mainly because you know you'd be screaming by the way his cock keeps kissing your cervix.  “You're so good at taking it, princess. Fuck, you feel so good,” JJ moans, and you can't help but feel pride in how much he seems to love it.  “Look at it,” you demand, and he dips his head, focusing on where you are connected. Your slip tucked to the side, but it's ruined anyway, it had been from the moment on he had started to flirt with you.  “What's that say,” JJ asks, his thumb rubbing over your tattoo, making you smirk.  “Eat me, Maybank. It says, eat me,” you moan, and he grins.  “Next time, princess,” he growls and starts rubbing your clit in harsh circles. You don't understand how he does it, but he has you moaning even louder, and clenching around his cock in the matter of minutes. The band in your stomach is ready to burst, and you don't think you've felt this good ever before. It feels like he's made for you, but you know that can't be the case.  “Cum for me, pretty girl. Soak my dick,” JJ breathes into your ear, and as soon as you come undone, he pulls his hand from your clit and shoves his fingers down your throat to shut you up.  You feel afloat and completely dazed when he pulls his fingers out and clasps his hand over your mouth. 

“Shh, quiet,” JJ whispers, and you hear footsteps outside the closet. If someone finds you, you're screwed.  “No, she's not down here either. Check upstairs again, man,” Rafe's annoyed voice carries through the door, and you stare at JJ. You're not scared of what might happen to you if Rafe found out, but more so that he'd finally snap and actually hurt JJ like he had threatened so many times before.  Rafe is still outside the door when JJ decides to start fucking you again, and your eyes roll back uncontrollably. He knows how badly you want to make a sound for him, but you can't let yourself.  As soon as his footsteps carry Rafe back upstairs, you let out a loud groan, pulling JJ into a kiss and purposely squeezing his dick just to prove to him that you're the one in charge. And when his hips stutter, and he spills out inside of you, you don't even mind it. You like the feeling, especially when he keeps fucking it into you, muttering incoherently about how good he fucked you. 

“Do you always praise yourself after?” you ask him after having pulled your dress back down.  “Do you always cheat on your boyfriend with Pogues?” he smirks, and you push him back against the shelf.  “If anyone finds out about this, you are dead, you understand? Either you shut up, and hope for a second time, or I can ruin your life. I don't need Rafe to do it for me, I can do it all by myself. Do you understand?” You poke into his chest and he nods.  “Good,” you take a step back again, and he grabs for your chin, pulling you close again.  “I have one question, princess. Has he ever fucked you raw?”  “I don't trust him enough for that,” you reply, and JJ snorts.  “Why'd you let me, then?”  “You don't sleep around as much as you pride yourself, Maybank. I mean, you're not bad, but- Well, it all comes down to the circles you run in and the ones you don't,” you give him a mean smile and open the door to go look for a bathroom. 

“How do you plan on not letting him find out if he never-”  “I told you, he does what I say. If I say no, he's not getting any,” you tell him and turn a corner towards the bathroom.  “You really got him wrapped around your finger,” JJ laughs.  “You too,” you grin before sitting down to pee, you don't care that he is standing right next to you.  “Didn't you literally call Cally R. disgusting for insinuating that she doesn't mind peeing in her boyfriend's presence?” JJ laughs.  “First of all,” you say while finishing up and standing. “Cally R. is a lying slut, the only reason why she keeps having to piss in front of her boyfriend is because she can't get rid of her std. And why doesn't it go away? Well, because little miss piss queen keeps on fucking Tyler Folly on the side. Calling her disgusting was the kindest thing I could do to her.”  “And the second reason?” JJ cocks his brow up.  “You're not my boyfriend, Maybank. And getting rid of your shit inside me, is kinda necessary unless you want me ending up like Cally,” you give him a threatening smile, and he holds his hands up in defense. “Good.”  “I'm just wondering if it's not hypocritical, with the whole fucking on the side and all,” he mumbles before wetting a towel and trying to remove the red lipstick marks from his face.  “I don't claim to love my boyfriend, and Rafe never claimed to love me. He thinks we have an open relationship on his side. I don't see why it can't be open on both,” you shrug and pull the lipstick from your bra to reapply it.  “Was I- was I better?” JJ mumbles, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck.  “Could you choose between your two favorite types of food?” you ask, and he starts to grin.  “You know, that's a weird metaphor.”  “Simile,” you correct him, and he exhales a laugh.  “You're a real smartass, y/l/n.”  “And you can be glad you're pretty.”  “Pretty enough to fuck your brains out,” JJ turns you towards him and leans over, his lips ghosting yours and when he pulls back you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. “See,” he smirks.  “If you want to do it again you can't fuck around, and most importantly you won't tell a soul. But then again, who would even believe you,” you scoff and turn around to leave, taking the stairs and vanishing in the crowd before anyone had noticed where you had come from. 

“Where were you? I was looking all over,” Rafe sounds concerned and hugs you, out of courtesy, surely. Rafe rarely hugs you unless you ask for it, or the social obligations call for it.  “Just here and there, I went upstairs and forgot why. I'm sorry, babe,” you tell him, and he lets it go.  “Hey, y/n, wanna play a game with us?” Topper asks, and you turn to look at the group of people gathered, your eyes get stuck on JJ for just a second before they snap back to Top.  “Sure,” you smile and push Rafe into a chair, sitting down sideways on his lap. 

It's a dumb drinking game, just like always. It stays rather boring until Topper's new girlfriend gets to speak, and you instantly regret your choice to take part.  “Never have I ever had sex with someone in this room,” she giggles and falls back down into Top before they each take a sip of their drinks.  You take a sip, focusing on Rafe, but Rafe is staring right across from where the two of you are sitting.  “Why does Maybank keep staring at you,” he whispers in your ear and you shrug.  “He's a creep, you know that, babe,” you try to calm your boyfriend down, but you know it's not gonna help much. 

“Never have I ever cheated,” JJ says and takes a drink, but the chatter went mute as soon as the words left him. “I thought we were being honest, guys. God, you guys really are some Kooks,” he laughs and stands up to leave. His eyes are yet again fixed on you, but this time you can't force yourself to look away.  “Maybe cheating is just a Pogue quality,” you say, and a few silent mumbles seem to agree with your lie.  “You must know all about that, princess,” JJ smirks and tips his non-existent cap to you before turning and walking away, out of the house and into the darkness.  “He’s so weird,” Topper's girlfriend lets out a disgusted grunt.  “Was he even invited?” Topper asks and I roll my eyes.  “They don't check invitations at the entrance, stupid,” you laugh it off. “He probably stole something,” someone out of the crowd suggested, and you stood up in a light fit of anger, before you realized that you couldn't act on it.  “What would he steal here? Cheap candles from Target?” you scoff and walk off. “Rafe!” you call out, and he takes a moment before he meets you outside by the car. 

“I didn't wanna go home yet,” he complains.  “And? You have to drive me home. After that, you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you scoff at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.  “What's up with you?” he snorts, opening the door for you and letting you get in.  “I'm tired and annoyed by these people who think they're better than anyone else, just because their dad's play golf and fuck their secretaries,” you mutter, and he stops asking, dropping you off at your house and driving off as soon as you are inside. 

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Weeks go by in which you don't even see a glimpse of JJ. You manage to push the memory so far back into your brain that you don't even dream of it, well, not as often.  And when Rafe fucks you, it's good, it's great, but you don't feel as complete after as you had with JJ. 

“Best pussy in the fucking world,” Rafe groans as he pounds into you from behind. Your face is pressed into the duvet and your ass is high up in the air. He had been stretching you out for what felt like hours. It was good, he hit every single spot inside of you perfectly, but you couldn't get yourself to cum.  “Would be so much better without it, baby,” Rafe rasps, and you're not really listening, just nodding and groaning in response to whatever he's saying.  Before you can actually register what is happening, he has pulled out and slammed into you again, but it feels different. You can feel him more clearly, every single vein on his thick cock, the soft tip that kept nudging your cervix as he went deeper.  “Fuck, I love you, I love this pussy so much,” Rafe moans and without a single warning he cums inside you, filling you up and clouding your mind. You gasp, close to an orgasm but not yet there and if he'd just- but he pulls out and you all you can feel is used.  “Shit, did you not,” he pulls you into him, having fallen into the sheets by your side, but you put on a smile.  “It's okay. Next time,” you tell him and get up to clean yourself up. You curse yourself for losing yourself in your thoughts about JJ instead of paying attention to what your boyfriend had said to you. And now you had two guys thinking they could fuck you over anyway they wanted.

“Are you okay?” Rafe asks as you leave the bathroom wrapped in your robe.  “Yeah, just next time, maybe warn me beforehand. Probably would've been better if we had both finished,” you say and roll your eyes while your back is turned to him.  “Why are you getting dressed?”  “I have to buy q tips, we don't have any left,” you lie and he scoffs.  “You could just ask the help to go buy some, and I could make it up to you. Come on, baby,” he slaps the empty bed to his left, but you shake your head.  “I just need some air, all right.”  “Fine. But text me so I know you're okay,” he sighs and gets up to take a shower. 

You basically run out of the house, jumping in your car and driving off towards the Cut before you realize you don't even know where to go.  You pull out your phone and scroll down a long list of contacts before you find his number, saved under three Xs to remind you to never text him, but here you are, doing just that.  “Where are you?” you type out and hit send, a second later a text appears on your screen.  “why?”  “Tattoo” is all you say, but the three small dots stay for a while and then they vanish. You are about to curse him out when a text pops up.  “you know the Château?” “Routledge?” “yes” You put your phone away and start driving again. Maybe you'd have to thank Topper's weird obsession with Sarah for knowing where the house was, but you really couldn't. 

As soon as you arrive, you kill the engine and jump out of your jeep, stomping towards the porch.  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Kiara sneers at you, but you don't pay her any attention. You grab JJ's hand and drag him into the house.  “That's the wrong way,” he chuckles and holds you back from going deeper into the house, pulling you to the side and into a small bedroom.  “Tell me what's wrong,” he asks, wanting to hold onto you, but you brush him off.  “He said he loved me,” you yell at JJ even though it's not his fault, nor can he do anything about it.  “And that's bad?” he raises his eyebrows at you and you huff.  “Yes. Yes, it is. You don't fuck someone, not let them fucking finish and then tell them you love them,” you hiss quietly, not wanting his friends to be able to hear it all.  “I see. I can help with one of those,” JJ smirks and pulls you into a kiss. A kiss that makes you forget why you even came over. Like a snip of his finger, he had erased all the bad thoughts and feelings inside of you, replacing them with warmth and desire.  “They didn't believe me,” he whispers against your lips before bringing them into another kiss. You pull on his shirt, and he takes it off.  “Told you they wouldn't,” you smile and take your own shirt off before starting to fumble with his shorts.  “Now they have to,” JJ chuckles and pushes his pants down, leaving the boxers on. 

He pushes you onto the bed, kissing you all over, especially focusing on your tits, and you nearly cum just from that. His skilled tongue toys with your nipple while his hand squeezes the other tit mercilessly.  “You have the best tits, baby,” JJ moans against your skin, squeezing them another time before trailing his lips down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach to the hem of your jeans shorts.  “Are you sure?” he asks while looking up at you, but the way he's lying between your legs is godly. His unruly hair is hanging into his face, his lips slightly parted in a mischievous smile.  “I'll go ask one of the others if you don't want to,” you tease him, and he nips at your hips. “Don't ever suggest that shit again, princess.”  “Noted, but only if your tongue’s as good as your dick,” you smirk.  JJ takes his time taking off your shorts, teasing you and edging you on, and you want to drown in the feelings he can so easily conjure in you.  “You smell different,” he notes and presses his nose against your slip. “I'm not gonna do this when you smell like him.”  “I told you,” you sit up on your elbows and look at his disgusted face.  “You didn't say he fucked you raw. That's different, and you know it,” JJ complained and sat back up.  “I don't see the problem. It's an easy fix,” you shrug and pull him closer by his neck. Your lips press against his until you have him lying underneath you. 

“See, easy,” you grin down at him, pulling his boxers down just enough to let his hard cock spring free.  “Aren't you pretty,” you whisper to his pink tip, placing a kiss on it and tasting his salty precum.  “If you do that again, I'm busting a nut. You gotta warn a guy,” he laughs nervously.  “Cute,” you giggle and lift yourself up, pulling your slip to the side and brushing his throbbing tip through your aching slit. You let out a sigh of relief as you sink down on him, the familiarity makes you feel better instantly.  Fucking JJ is easy, it's messy, it's freeing.  You don't mind that he can't keep himself from cumming when you do, because he's ready instantly as if it never had happened.  You claw at his chest while you bounce on him, screaming of pleasure and not caring who can hear you.  Your pussy sounds obscenely wet, and can feel the mix of your many releases spill out of you and onto him. But JJ doesn't care as long as you keep fucking yourself with his dick, he doesn't even mind having to take over when you get a cramp in your leg.  He's moaning and cursing worse than you, calling you all kinds of dirty things, but mostly he's showering you with compliments, which turns you on even more than you had ever thought.  And when he finally pulls out, your pussy is still clenching, pushing out all of his and your cum. 

“Would you look at that, princess. We should definitely not clean you up and send you back home just like that, show him who's actually better at fucking this pretty pussy.” JJ says and takes two fingers to push his cum back into you.  “J, please,” you beg him to stop. You are overstimulated and sore, so sore you feel like you might not be able to walk properly the next few days.  “Oh, but we haven't even done what you promised me, princess. You wouldn't let a poor guy starve, would you?” JJ gives you a pout and moves back to kiss your swollen cunt. A jolt goes through your body as he does it another time.  “You taste so sweet, baby,” he moans into you, his hands massaging your thighs; tongue dipping into your hole and nose brushing against your clit.  You moan and mewl as he slowly kisses and licks you to your orgasm, you can't even remember how many you've had that day, but what you do know is that the last one was the best one. 

“Where'd you learn to use your tongue like that?” you ask him out of breath as he's lying next to you.  “Natural talent, y/l/n,” JJ boasts and turns his head to kiss you, twisting his tongue with yours and then pulling you closer. His hand is harshly gripping your thigh, pulling your leg over his own; while your own hands are entangled in his hair. There's a sense of security in the way he kisses you, like you know he won't leave even if you'd tell him to.  “JJ-” you try to pull away, but his lips keep on chasing yours, even when you try to get his attention by biting him. So, you pull on his hair, holding his head in place and making him whine with it.  “S’unfair,” he murmurs.  “I have to go home, it's late,” you remind him.  “You could stay, I could show you how much better I am at morning sex,” JJ tries to convince you, but you know it's impossible.  You let go of his head and twirl a strand of his hair in between your fingers. “It's a charming proposal, but you know I can't. He'll come looking for me, and we don't want that to happen, do we?”  “I’ll let you go if you answer me one question.”  You roll your eyes at his antics, but agree to it anyway. “Deal, dumbass,” you smile. “Why’d you text me?” JJ whispers, and you sigh, turning around to look at the ceiling.  “I don't know,” you lie.  “I think you do, you're just lying to yourself if you say anything else. Because I wouldn't have told you to come by if I didn't feel the same,” he admits and nuzzles his face into your neck.  “It's a polar opposite. And I never thought- It's difficult to know you want a specific thing when you never had it, and once it’s there, it's hard to forget about it. And he won't give me that, I know it,” you explain quietly and JJ kisses your neck in response.  “I would never even consider not letting you cum, baby,” he hushes against your skin, and it gives you goosebumps all over. It's cozy and loving in a way, and it might just scare the life out of you when you realize that you crave this affection he's giving you.  “I have to go,” you press out and jump up, leaving JJ groaning as he runs his hands over his face. You find your clothes pretty quickly and put them back on, while he stays in bed, lying there looking like a Greek god.  “You look severely fuck out. I like it,” he grins, his head propped up on his hand. “Walk of shame material?”  “Nah, nothing to be ashamed of.”  “You know that's not what I meant,” you sigh and leave the room to go look for the bathroom.  “Left,” JJ calls out, and you turn left, towards the end of the hallway and enter the small bathroom. You don't understand how they can live in such a narrow space, but you know mentioning it will not end well. 

Your curls are standing up in every possible direction and your eyes look extremely tired.  “See, not bad at all,” JJ smirks, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom.  “Do you have a hair tie or something?” you ask, and he steps behind you and pulls a drawer open. You pick out a simple black hair tie that could easily pass as one of your own, and wind your hair into a loose knot.  “Tell me again why I should let you go back to that asshole?” JJ asks, laying his chin on your shoulder.  “One, because he's not an asshole, and two, because he's gonna kill you. I don't want to see you dead, you're really good at what you do,” you say while looking at him through the mirror, and the smile on his face gets deeper as you speak.  “The secret side piece,” JJ flashes his brows at you, and you can't stop the light chuckle that leaves you. Charming and sweet and all you should ever want and need- “I really have to go now,” you remind yourself, and he lets go of you. 

When you walk out onto the porch, your eyes meet Sarah's and your heart stops, but you can't let yourself get caught up in it. You know, she hasn't spoken to Rafe in a whole year. She surely won't break that silence just to tell on you.  Your feet quickly move you towards your car, but before you can open your door, you are harshly turned around and pushed against the metal.  JJ kisses you so hard, you wish you could go back inside and do it all over again. His hand is holding onto your neck while the other is gripping your waist. It feels like the best kiss in your entire life, and it awakes something inside of you that you had long thought dead. The tiny flutter in your stomach is as faint as a gust of wind in spring, but you know it's there, and you know it'll just complicate everything else with it. When he pulls away, he does it slowly, leaving an abundance of small, soft kisses on your lips before running his thumb over them.  “She won't tell. None of them will, I promise,” he whispers and you nod, believing him.  “You should go. Didn't know kissing alone could turn a guy on like that.” You smirk innocently as your hand traces over his erection, and he can't even hide it because he hadn't thought about putting on anything more than underwear.  “That's all you,” JJ whispers and kisses you one last time. “Text me,” he says before stepping back and letting you get into your car.  As you drive off, you can see him flipping off his friends before going inside; and then the house, and all of them with it, vanish as you make your way back home. 

“Where were you?” Rafe bludgeons as soon as you get through the door.  “Out. You don't need to know everything, you know?” you snap at him.  “You didn't text and were gone for hours, y/n.”  “Shit, you sound more like my parents then my parents ever did,” you laugh and make your way into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and downing it in one go.  “Excuse me for giving a fuck,” Rafe barks, and you roll your eyes.  “If you hadn't been selfish, like fucking always, I wouldn't have walked out.”  “I wanted to make it up to you. You left!” he counters and you gulp hard.  “Tell me what you would've done. Something that puts me first for a change or no?” Your blood is boiling and there is nothing that can stop your fit of rage. It had been easier to look past Rafe's selfish tendencies when you hadn't known any better, but now that you do, you can't help but get annoyed at him for it.  “Where's this coming from now?” he laughs, pacing along the room.  “God, why can't you fucking open your eyes! You know, sometimes I fake it just so it's over quicker,” you spit out, but he knows it's a lie, it's the one thing you promised each other to never lie about.  “You never tell me what you want either,” Rafe says, and you hate that it's true.  “Would you do it if I did?”  “I can try,” he raises his shoulders in what feels like defeat to you, but you can't be sure.  “Good,” you glare, but you know it's unnecessary.  “Now?” he asks, somewhat hopeful, but you shake your head.  “Maybe tomorrow, or whenever. I'm tired right now,” you sigh and make your way upstairs to take a bath. 

The hot water is soaking your body, and you close your eyes and let it play out again. How JJ kept kissing you as he fucked you senseless, how his praises worked way better for you than Rafe's degradations. How he had kept looking up at you with his head buried between your legs.  Your hand travels down between your legs, rubbing soft circles on your clit, and it's not enough. Your fingers plunge into your pussy, curling perfectly, but it's not enough. You can't reach, and it frustrates you.  You step out of the tub, dripping wet as you make your way into the bedroom and Rafe doesn't complain when you straddle him. And he complains even less you start to fuck yourself with his dick. It's not something you’ve ever done with him, but he wants to be better for you, and he doesn't mind as long as he gets to fuck you one way or the other.  “Tell me how much you want me,” you moan softly while bouncing on his huge cock. The light stinging feeling his size always causes you just adds to your pleasure.  “You're so fucking hot, fucking me like the slut you are,” Rafe rasps, holding onto your hips.  “No, something nice. Tell me something nice.” You shake your head but keep going anyway.  “Uhm, okay… You're fucking me so well, baby,” Rafe says, but his eyebrows are furrowed until you moan louder.  “Yes, more.”  “I love your tight pussy, baby,” he groans, and you fall down on top of him, kissing him, but it doesn't feel at all like you had hoped. He tastes like whiskey, but you craved the mix of weed and beer. Yet all of your thoughts about it fly out the window when he stops your hips and starts pounding into you from below.  “Faster,” you gasp into him, biting his lip and digging your nails into his shoulders. It's mind-bending, they way he fucks you and his uncontrollable noises turn you on even more. Rafe grunts and moans like you've not heard it before, and you wish you had made him try it earlier. 

“Fuck, baby, tell me you're close,” Rafe moans, and you press your face against his shoulder, feeling the band inside you tighten.  “So close, babe, don't stop,” you cry out and snake a hand down to your clit rubbing harshly and suddenly JJ's words echo in your mind.  “Cum for me, y/n. Be a good girl and let go.” You scream when your orgasm rips through you and Rafe follows just a second later, pushing in deeper and painting your walls in his pretty white.  “Keep going, just a bit,” you instruct him, and he fucks his cum into you with a few more thrusts until you tell him to stop again.  “That was probably the best sex we ever had,” you sigh, still not ready to get up and have him leave you.  “Definitely top ten,” Rafe pants and runs his hand over your back.  “No, definitely the best,” you argue with a smile and he caves.  “All right, the best.” 

After having cleaned up you're back in bed, and cuddled into his side, your head resting on his chest.  “Why didn't you tell me all that earlier? We could've done this already,” he whispers, and you don't know how to come up with a good lie.  “I don't know. Maybe I hoped you'd figure it out on your own one day.”  “It's very different from what we usually do,” Rafe mumbles, brushing over your hair.  “I like how you fuck me, but sometimes I need something for me. I need control too,” you whisper and he kisses your head.  “We can do that.”  “Good.”  “I love you,” Rafe sighs, and you can hear his breath slow as he falls asleep. 

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Your dreams are haunted by JJ, always, and you wish you could turn it off. Sometimes Rafe gets to him, other times you see yourself living the Pogue life, as if that was ever something you'd even do as much as consider. But tonight it's different from any other time. 

You are at home, Rafe is sitting at the kitchen island, and JJ is lying on the couch. They are both aware of each other and not actively trying to murder one another. The whole scene makes you incredibly suspicious, but it just gets worse when two blonde children come running in.  “Dad!” one of them yells and both JJ and Rafe pick up their heads.  “What's up?” Rafe asks and gets up from his seat, giving you a loving smile before leaning down to the child and talking to it.  “Well, your friends are pretty fucking stupid for not getting it,” Rafe tells the child and JJ snorts.  “Yeah, what's not to get? My wife has another guy, and we play daddy roulette every single time.”  “Daddy roulette?” you ask and furrow your brows at the two.  “You said it's better to not know. Removes the thing for fighting or whatever,” JJ explains.  “This one, definitely mine,” Rafe points at your stomach, and you look down at yourself to see yourself severely pregnant. Your belly is bigger than you'd ever imagined and it feels even worse.  “Why is it so big?” Your heart starts racing, and you feel like you're about to fall over.  “That's because we're having twins. You got a Maybank and a Cameron in there, baby, just like you love it,” JJ grins and your vision goes blurry. 

“Y/n, will you please stop screaming? I was trying to sleep!” Rafe groans after shaking you awake.  “Sorry,” you mumble and turn away from him.  “Bad dream or what?” he asks.  “You don't have to pretend to care,” you whisper, and he snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest.  “I do care, but I also really need to sleep, baby,” he mumbles and kisses your neck a single time.  “We should just sleep,” you mutter and this time you are allowed to get your few hours of dreamless sleep instead of being haunted by your mistakes. 

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Weeks turn into months, and one hookup every other week turns to some every other day.  The more Rafe tries to focus more on you, the more you seem to crave JJ and the lightness of what you have with him.  Like the quick fucks in the Country Club restroom, or the “business meetings” you tell Rafe about. After all, you really don't have a choice, because where Rafe is still reluctant to go down on you, JJ is offering it every single time, even when you are really not capable of cumming another time.  You know it would be technically easy to break up with Rafe, but you can't. You promised your dead father to marry a good man, someone from a good family. And Rafe is exactly what your dad had in mind.  And even if that wasn't the case, you still couldn't, or just don't want to, really.  You like that every girl on the island seems to want what you have, especially with both boys on your leash. You like that people are scared of you, because they know Rafe does what you tell him to, and not because he’s scared, no because he knows it's the best way to live his life. What most people don't know is that although still rich, the Camerons had suffered a dent in their savings, and not a small one. But you, you are secured by a long line of rich assholes. Old money. More than you could ever spend in a lifetime. Which just means that Rafe doesn't have the faintest idea why he should ever leave you. You are his perfect package deal. 

“boat day?” The text from JJ rips you out of your thoughts, and you praise the fact that Rafe has the day packed with meetings.  “sure” you reply quickly and get back to doing your hair.  “I should come pick you up”  “no, you really shouldn't.” You shake your head at his dangerously stupid idea. The boat thing is after all already risky, you don't need to up the chances of anyone finding out. “Will be there in 30.”

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Kiara scoffs as soon as you get out of your car.  “I invited her,” JJ shrugs as if it's nothing special and keeps walking towards the pier.  “You shouldn't get to invite anyone, especially not the Kook bitch who keeps fucking you on the side to get back at her even worse Kook boyfriend,” Kiara complains. “I'm not getting back at anyone,” you smile at her, knowing how much it must enrage her that you keep your cool and calm exterior.  “Just, please be nice, Kie,” JJ yells from afar and you hide your grin.  “John B!” Kiara hollers and walks back into the house, while you keep standing there, leaning against your car. As soon as JJ comes back they all gather on the porch, discussing the matter of your attendance. 

“You know I can hear you, right?” you say loudly after Kiara had called you a slut the third time in a row. “Then why are you still here?” she snaps at you.  You stroll towards the steps that lead up the porch and walk to where they are standing. It's not that you are particularly happy that they are all there too, but you at least have the decency to be nice to them, if not for anything but JJ’s sake.  “I'm interested in what your issue is here,” you ask and Sarah scoffs.  “Maybe that you're a horrible person. Using JJ? Cheating on my brother?”  “Oh, a horse can only be that high,” you smile at her.  JJ tugs on your hand and makes you look at him. “You said you'd be nice.”  “I am nice. I'm not the one calling people slut and whore and what else y'all can come up with for me. But I'm not gonna stand here and hear these insults if they can't even take one back. And for the record that wasn't an insult, it was the truth and y'all know it,” you say and John B runs his hands through his hair, visibly on edge.  “Are you kidding me? You literally insult us all the fucking time,” Kiara spits at you, and you can't help the tiny laugh that escapes you.  “I don't insult Pogues, you guys have it hard enough as is, but… you're not a Pogue, Carrera. I guess that means you're fair game, because that one,” you point at Sarah, “is basically family, as much as I hate to say it, and you don't go against your own.”  “You’re not my family. You'll never be,” Sarah shakes her head.  “Okay,” you roll your eyes at her.  “Can we just-” JJ tries to get control of the conversation, but Kiara stops him.  “No, we can't. If she's here, I'm leaving.”  “Y'all are the worst fucking friends in the world,” you laugh and take a step back, ready to leave. “Incredible.” You turn around and walk back to your car, JJ right behind you. 

“Don't leave, please,” he asks, and you stop in your tracks, turning around on the dirt and looking straight at him.  “I tried, you can't tell me to do more than that. I'm not gonna be called a whore and slut every five fucking minutes. It's appalling how your friends can't even pretend to like me for a few hours, but I'm supposed to do so while also being insulted. I'm not doing that. I'm sorry.” “I'll make it up to you, just don't go,” he begs and you shake your head. “No.” “What do you mean no?”  “I mean, no, because you have nothing to make up to me. They are the ones constantly fucking up. Last time you told them beforehand, and suddenly they all had different plans. They hate me,” you tell him, but he didn't seem to wanna hear it.  “Can we just try and-”  “I did try. Don't force me to do this, J. I can't do this if they can't even manage to not call me names,” you say quietly, and he takes your face in his hands, warm and calloused.  “Will you wait just another few minutes and if I can't fix it, we will go to my place. Sound all right?” His voice is low and raspy, and it's making you wet just a little bit.  “You never invited me to your house before,” you whisper, blushing and pressing your thighs together to try to get rid of the growing desire between them. “It's an equally favorable outcome to the other thing then?”  “More favorable to me,” you smile and lean up to peck his lips. “Use that magical charm of yours,” you whisper and push him back to go talk to his friends. 

Half an hour later you're all sitting on the small boat somewhere in the marsh.  “You want a beer?” JJ asks and hands you a can. “You know how to shotgun, right?”  I can pretend I don't so you can show me,” you smile at him and he laughs.  “That would be cheating.” You grin at him before taking out your keys, plunging a hole in the can and chugging it in a matter of seconds.  “Impressive,” JJ notes before shotgunning his own can and dropping some beer on his sun kissed skin. You don't even think about it when you lean in and kiss the droplets away. Your kisses trail upwards, along his neck until they connect to his mouth, and he kisses you like his life depends on it. His hands come up to hold your face, while yours are in his neck, twirling the hair at the nape of it.  “I should shotgun a few more if this is the new process,” JJ smirks, his forehead leaning against yours.  You blink slowly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and giving him a small nod. “M-hmm,” you hum, and he places another kiss on your lips. 

“Should we, uh, play a game or?” Pope suggests, and you turn to shift your focus away from JJ and towards the people he calls his friends.  “What type of game?” you ask with a genuine interest.  “Truth or dare,” Kiara suggests with a mean smile on her face.  “Who starts?” you ask and give her a polite smile, serving its intended purpose when she rolls her eyes.  “Truth or dare, princess,” JJ asks and turns your head towards him with a simple nudge of his finger.  “Truth,” you whisper.  “Why did you come when I asked?”  “Because I like you,” you gaze into his blue eyes, and he smiles, “for more than the incredible sex also. It's actually pretty fun with you.”  “Definite win on my end,” he whispers.  “Truth or dare… John B,” you say before turning your head to look at him. He gives you a confused look, his eyes jumping between JJ and you.  “Truth,” he shrugs.  “Do you actually hate me or do you just hate me because your girlfriend hates me?” Your smile is sugar sweet, but the glare you give Sarah could definitely make milk curdle.  “I mean, you're a Kook and I don't understand what this is,” he gestures at JJ and you. “But I guess, I don't know you enough to hate you or like you.”  His answer genuinely surprises you because you didn't think he'd be honest and not just say the thing Sarah wanted to hear. 

The game goes back and forth with a few dares and a few harmless truths in between, until it's Sarah's turn, and she glares at you as if she wants to actually kill you.  “Truth or Dare, y/l/n?”  “Dare,” you reply quickly, and her mean smile grows wider.  “Call Rafe and tell him where you are,” she demands. “It's 2:30pm, he's in a meeting. I'm not gonna call him during a meeting just because of a stupid game,” you scoff and laugh at her stupid dare.  “How do you know he's in a meeting right this second?” she hits back at you, and you can't help but laugh even more, but you catch yourself and answer a bit more seriously. “I have his schedule memorized. That's what you do when you're a good girlfriend.”  “A good girlfriend wouldn't cheat!” she screams at you. “You think he doesn't? That's a pretty narrow-minded way to look at it, sis.” You know the new nickname has her boiling, and the little sadistic part of your brain loves to see it. “And you don't get to talk about cheating, everyone is aware of your timeline errors.”  “I never loved Topper,” she defends herself, as if it makes her morally superior to you. “And I don't love Rafe, but you at least had a fucking choice because your shitty life was never bound to you marrying whoever your parents pick so you ‘get to’ inherent what would rightfully be yours anyway. So don't fucking tell me what to do with my life, because everyone else has always done it too, and they had more legitimacy for it,” you yell at her, unintentionally spilling more of your secrets than you had initially wanted to, and they all go quiet. The only thing you can hear after you're done is a few frogs, the birds close by, the waves crashing against the boat and your heart pounding in your chest.

JJ pulls you in closer and hugs you while placing soft, calming kisses on your neck.  “I wanna go home,” you whisper to him, tired of having had to pretend, even if it had just been for an hour.  “Let me talk to them. I promise it's gonna get better,” he says and gets up.  There's no doubt in your mind that it won't. Yet you don't understand why you keep giving him, and with it, them, one chance after the other, when you wouldn't usually give anyone even a second chance. You look out onto the water, your legs propped up, arms around them and your head lying on your knees. You think back to the last night you had with your dad, before he had died in a horrible car crash. T-boned by a drunk driver who hadn't seen a red light. You think about how you had tried to convince him to change his mind, that you could run the company without a man by your side, that you were good enough. But all your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And your mom isn't any better. She decided to stay away, vacating in Palm Beach and only coming home every other month to make sure you are still alive. She deals with grief like that. By sunbathing and drinking and pretending like everything is fine and perfect and not at all in shambles.  Instead, you decided to close off your heart, and that worked for nearly two years until JJ decided to charm his way into it. You don't like it, the thought of feeling all this pain again. Or worse, to know once you let yourself love, the pain will be inevitable. People leave one way or the other, that's how life has always been and how it always will be. 

“Hey,” John B rips you out of your head, and you don't even turn to look at him as he sits down next to you.  “What do you want?” you say in the meanest way you can conjure, but it still sounds pathetic.  “I'm sorry about your dad, I know he died a few years back. I, uhm, I just wanted to say I understand how hard it can be to live up to their expectations, especially after they-”  “I don't need your pity, Routledge,” you snap and look at him. “You don't know anything about me. You don't have to pretend to care.”  “I was just trying to help,” he apologizes and gets up again. 

Your mind wanders back to the night, to the pain. It's scarily easy to revisit that memory. Seeing yourself standing over the table in the morgue, having to identify that, “yes, that's my dad,” because your mother had broken down as soon as the message had come through. You were keeping yourself together for her, for everyone around you who came with their condolences and expected a consolation prize for caring the bare minimum. You remember taking the ring from his cold, stiff finger. You remember having to pick out the casket, the suit, the food, where and when and how and-  You feel like your lungs are empty, like you had stopped breathing air, but pain and desperation instead. Tears are building in your eyes. You can't blink, can't let them run, can't let anyone see you cry, especially not these people. The only one who has gotten to see you cry ever, apart from your parents, is Rafe. And maybe you are aware that you can't leave him because he knows the part of you that you try so hard to keep hidden. Because he was the only one caring for you when everyone else was solely relying on you.  And now you are hurting him, in a way you never thought you would, but you can't help it, you're too far in it now. You need to tell him, needed two months ago, but you hadn't, because you were scared of breaking his heart. Because you know telling him might mean losing the one good and secure thing you had going for yourself. Maybe you never considered it love, because it doesn't look like the love from the movies and books you basically inhaled in your early teens. Maybe you do have a childish outlook on love after all, because whatever connects you and Rafe goes deeper than that. 

“You okay?” JJ asks, standing over you, and you muster a faint smile for him.  “I just really wanna go home now, I'm sorry,” you apologize for it, although you know you're not the only one at fault for it. You're soft for him, because he needs it, because you need it in a way. But it's so different from Rafe and you don't know if you can survive without either of them. If you could, you'd put them in a blender and get the perfect boyfriend out of it. But life isn't a fairy tale. “It's okay,” he smiles and kisses your forehead before turning to the steering wheel and starting the engine. 

As soon as you're back at the Château you get off the boat and basically run towards your car. If not for JJ, you wouldn't even think twice about ever coming back. But this was his second home, his happy place.  “Hey, y/n, wait a sec,” JJ calls after you and you stop to turn around.  “I don't care if they like me, J, but I'm not gonna be able to do this again. Not like this. I really want to, for you, but if they can't bring up the same amount of- They need to try too, all of them, and not when I accidentally tell them my whole life story so they can pity me. I'm not gonna do it that way,” you say softly and he nods.  “I understand. Will you text me that you got home safe? Please,” he whispers and you nod. There's a moment of silence, insecure and heavy, as if he doesn't know what to do, so you do the only thing you can think of to stop the awkward moment from prolonging. In a quick motion you lean up and kiss his cheek. 

As soon as you come home you text him a quick “am home” and turn back to wallowing in your sadness.  It takes Rafe another two hours to get back home and as soon as he walks in, you jump into his arms, trying to find the little security you knew you could always hold onto.  “Hey, baby, what's up? Huh? Missed me that much?” Rafe asks with a light chuckle while holding you up, with one arm around your waist and the other holding onto his bag.  “Missed you,” you mumble into him, not wanting to actually tell him why you are feeling down, but you know you need to. Soon. Very soon.

He puts down his bag and carries you into the kitchen, sitting you down on the island and taking your puffy face in his hands.  “What happened?” he asks softly, softer than you know him.  “I don't want you to be angry with me,” you whisper, and he prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue before nodding.  “I won't be, I promise.”  “I, uh…,” the words get stuck in your throat, and you feel the tears well up again.  “Whatever it is, you know I love you,” he says, and it makes your heart feel even heavier.  “I've been seeing someone else,” you whisper, and he takes a step back, laughing and running his hands through his hair. There is no mistake in how mad he is, because this was a new level of mad, one you haven't seen before.  “Who?” he barks and you flinch. “Who is it, y/n?”  “No, you'll hurt him. I won't let you hurt him,” you shake your head, and he steps closer again.  “Why should I give a fuck about how you feel right now? Huh?! For how long have you been cheating on me?” he screams into your face. “Rafe, please,” you beg softly, and he takes a step away again, and a second later his fist lands in a cabinet door.  “How long, y/n?” he yells.  “Four months,” you whisper and he laughs.  “You gotta be kidding me.”  “I didn't know- It's confusing and then today-” you stammer, and he interrupts you.  “You were with him today? That's why you're crying? And you expect me to not go and kill that guy instantly?”  “I love you,” you yell at him, and he stops, furrowing his brows and looking at you more confused than you have ever seen him. 

“What?”  “I think so, at least. It's very confusing,” you mumble, looking down at your hands.  “Is that supposed to be an apology? You tell me you've been fucking some asshole on the side and think it'll all be made okay by finally telling me that you love me after two years?” His anger is back, but he's still confused, and you don't know what to do about it. All you know is that you need to be truthful about it, as much as you can, as much as he lets you. “I know it doesn't make sense and I know it's not an apology. I don't mean it like that. But today, things were said by other people, not him, he was trying to help- I don't know what I feel,” you shake your head.  “None of that makes any sense, baby,” Rafe runs his hand over his face.  “I didn't think that what I felt for you was love because no one ever told me it could be like that. But I do. I love you and I made a horrible mistake, but I would have never known- I can't survive on just one. I need both of you to be happy,” you say, and he steps closer, harshly taking your face in his hand.  “Who!”  “JJ,” you whisper and his hand slips down to your throat, holding you tight enough to restrict your blood flow, making you dizzy.  “You let a dirty Pogue fuck you? And then you come back here and pretend like nothing happened?”  “I love you,” you are practically begging him to not hurt JJ, your own well-being has become secondary the moment you decided to tell Rafe about it all.  “Is that why you wanted to do all that new shit?” he laughs almost hysterically, squeezing a little tighter and your vision starts getting blurry.  “Please,” you choke out, and he lets go again.  “You know what the worst part is? That this started making more sense in the last few months, and now you're tellin’ me it's because you’re fucking Maybank on the side. That's fucked up, y/n,” Rafe shakes his head.  “I never got mad at you for cheating on me,” you remind him quietly, it's a low blow, but you know it's gonna do the trick. His escapades early on in your relationship, and even a few slip ups in the first year after your dad hadn't bothered you much anyway back then.  “No, but you never got mad at me for anything because you don't have a fucking heart. You were acting like a fucking robot until-,” he doesn't even finish the sentence, only shaking his head yet again.  “I don't understand why, Rafe. You have to believe me. And I tried not to. I did. For months before. And then it happened once, and I tried to stay away but then you- you hurt my feelings and I had no one else-” you stammer, and he glares at you.  “The best sex we ever had? Because you had just fucked him?”  “I know you. You're not happy with all I need. And everything you can give me- It's not enough, and I hate myself for it. I wish it was but it isn't. And I can't keep on trying to change you. I won't do that to you. It's not fair to either of us,” you whisper.  “You think you can have us both? Maybe we should call your little boy toy and ask him what he thinks, because apparently you value his fucking Pogue opinion more than me!” Rafe snaps and rips the phone from your back pocket.  “Rafe, please don't,” you cry, and he smirks, but it's neither playful nor sweet, it's simply vicious.  “Oh, I have a way worse idea, baby, and you won't say no because you love me, right?” he taunts, and you nod slowly, knowing whatever’s to happen next won't be the last punishment you receive for your crimes. 

Rafe throws you over his shoulder and carries you upstairs and into the bedroom. Throwing you on the bed as if you weigh nothing.  You know not to move when he's in a mood, he'll do it by himself or give you strict orders to follow. Doing anything on your own account will just make it worse for you.  “Take off that horrible dress,” he barks while walking into the closet to pick out a tie and get his special box for you. You do as you are told, and he comes over to you, pulling on your arms and tying your wrists together behind your back so you can't use your hands anymore.  Then he pulls on the strings of the tiny bikini you had on, having expected to go swimming before you had left for JJ’s. The flimsy piece comes undone and Rafe slaps your ass a single time, but it stings harsh enough for you to whine a little.  “The more you cry, the worse it'll get,” he threatens, and you try to swallow the pain as he sits and pulls you to lie over his lap, spanking you for half an eternity. And even when he's done and goes over to softly massaging your butt, it's still stinging, and you don't know how much more you can take if this was the start of it. 

“You think that was enough? Or do you deserve some more?” Rafe asks and you gulp before replying quietly.  “I was a very bad girl,” you say, just like he always wanted to hear. It had only happened two times before that he had decided to play these games in such an extreme way. The first time you had drunkenly flirted with some Touron and Rafe had decided it was the best way to teach you a lesson. That was a month into your relationship. The second time was a week before your dad had died, and he keeps telling you that he regrets doing it, but you know he doesn't. You had made fun of his family that night, just a little bit, but it had been enough to grant a punishment.  But neither of those come close to the pain you imagine he must be feeling right now. And you rather let him take his anger out on you than go and hurt JJ. That was the better option, surely.  “Yes, you were, baby. That's why you're gonna do whatever I say now. You know the rules. And if you cum I'll hurt you some more,” Rafe pulls you back up and you nod.  “Won't cum.”  “Good. Now lay down and let me fuck your throat,” he says, and you hesitate for a second but do it anyway. He's aware that you don't like it, not because it's not fun, but because he's simply too big for you to be able to breathe properly while doing it on his terms.  

Yet here you are, lying on the bed with your head hanging off the edge. But before he tells you to open up, he goes to his box, taking out a tiny device and smirking mischievously.  “You know what, we're doing it differently tonight,” Rafe pulls you up to sit. Then he goes to bend you over and for a moment you think he's just gonna fuck you, but instead he shoves the toy into you, filling both holes without any prep, and you cry out at the unexpected intrusion and the low vibrations of the toy.  “No. You're not gonna cum from that, and if there's anything on that when I pull it out, I'll make it hurt worse. Do you understand?” He warns and you nod.  “I understand.”  “Good. Kneel,” he orders and points at the rug in front of the bed and you follow diligently. 

When he tells you to open up, you do it, and when he tells you to moan around him, you do it, and when he tells you to look into the camera, you do it, albeit reluctantly.  Rafe doesn't care that you're close to choking on his cock, or that you can't stop the tears from streaming down your cheek. He doesn't care that your jaw will hurt for the two following days. He doesn't care because he knows it's still not enough punishment, and you know he's right.  Once he's happy with his little video, he tells you to get up and lie down again, and once you do, he pulls you towards the edge of the bed again and goes back to fucking your throat. What you can't see, because his balls are in your face, is that he's gone back to filming you, especially the part where his dick goes so far down your throat that it's visible on your neck.  Somehow you managed to blend out the vibrations in your pussy and ass, the low intensity was barely doing anything to you but edge you on more and more. 

“You're a real slut, aren't you, baby,” he huffs after pulling out and manhandling you to be face down before him. Your legs are propped up and spread wide as he harshly pulls the toy out, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your throat.  “Tell me you love me again, and I might stop,” he rasps, and you are about to say it, but just as you open your mouth to speak, he thrusts into you. An obscenely loud moan is all you can conjure before he starts ramming into you.  “Tell me how much you love me!”  “Love you, Rafe. Love you and your cock so much,” you cry out and a second later your phone lands on the bed right next to your head.  “Look who called to check up on you, baby. Tell him how much you love when I take what's mine!” Rafe demands and your eyes fill with tears as you see the screen.  “What the fuck is this?” JJ asks and you sob.  “Rafe, no,” you cry.  “You want him so bad, he has to know what it means to share you. Because I'm not letting you go, baby,” Rafe growls, fucking you harder and your tears keep on streaming.  “Princess, it's okay. Focus,” JJ tells you through the phone, and you don't understand why he didn't hang up immediately.  “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rafe, please,” you beg, but he won't stop, not until he's got what he wants.  “Tell him how much you love me,” Rafe barks, pulling on your hair and yanking you towards him. “You don't get to make any demands tonight, baby. You know what you did to me!”  He pushes you back down, and you land face first in the duvet, sobbing uncontrollably. “I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry,” you are close to hyperventilating. Your body is sore and tired, but he won't stop the attack on your poor pussy.  “You hear that Maybank, she loves me!” Rafe says, jealousy drenching his voice, and picks up the phone. “But I still don't think she deserves to cum. Do you?”  “You're sick, Rafe,” JJ hisses through the phone, but your mind is starting to go blank, the noise of his skin slapping against your own, and the quenching sound of your pussy is filling your ears.  “No, she's sick. One dick isn't enough for the little bitch. Nah, she needs two fillings to feel better about herself,” Rafe laughs, and you're so far gone that you can barely hear him anymore.  “Princess, focus on me. Come on, pretty girl,” JJ pleads and you nod absentmindedly.  “Shit, stop,” Rafe moans, but you can't. JJ's soft, loving words of encouragement have triggered your release, and you really don't have any control over it.  You moan so loud you think the whole island might hear, but you don't care, actually. And when you push your ass back into Rafe he loses his game and cums so hard that he collapses onto you almost instantly. 

Panting you lie there, incapable of saying a single word, but at least JJ had disconnected the call.  “I get it now,” Rafe pants and pulls you into him, hugging you and kissing the top of your head. “Maybe I can learn to live with it.”  “Love you,” is all you manage to say before your exhaustion takes over, and you fall into a deep dreamless slumber. 

You don't even feel like getting up the next morning, but you do it anyway. Pulling on one of Rafe's shirts to feel a tiny bit of familiar comfort you prod downstairs after having cleaned up the tiniest bit.  “Good morning,” Rafe says as soon as you step into the kitchen.  “Morning,” you walk past him, kissing his cheek just like any normal day. But unlike any normal day, Rafe isn't dressed yet, he's only got his shorts on and something tells you he had planned it.  “I don't think you should get to wear my shirts right now. I'm still mad at you, remember?” he nods at you, and you sigh, wanting to turn back and go change, but his hand shoots out to hold you back. “Oh, no, no. You're gonna take it off here. And you're gonna eat without it on.”  “But I don't have anything else on,” you complain quietly and he shrugs.  “Not my problem.”  You pull the shirt over your head and hand it to him. “Anything else?”  “Actually, yeah,” Rafe gives you a lopsided grin before sitting you up on the island. 

It stings when he pushes into you, stretching you to your limit without any prep. But it's a punishment, you shouldn't enjoy it anyway.  His grunts and curses and intensely hard thrusts make you whimper, but at least he doesn't tell you off about it this time. Instead, he encourages you, wanting to see the tears and as soon as they start running his thrusts grow sloppier.  “I brought waffles as a peace offering,” you hear JJ's voice and footsteps that are coming closer. Your head spins around, and you stare at him across the room. The shock on his face tells you that he had just as much been blindsided by this as you, and it takes him another moment to drag his eyes away from the scene. But Rafe just laughs and keeps fucking you.  “Look at him, he can't even look at you while I fuck you. How the fuck is that supposed to work, baby?”  “As if you'd like to see it the other way round,” JJ snaps back at him, his back still turned to you. But the pain is too much, you can't take it anymore.  “J, please,” it's a mere whisper that leaves you, but he walks over to you anyway, avoiding looking at Rafe.  “It's all right, I'm here,” JJ whispers to you while caressing your hair, and you look up at him, into his pretty blue eyes.  “Make her cum,” Rafe demands and JJ rolls his eyes.  “You know, if you were better at it, she would've never fucked me in the first place,” JJ glares at him, but you pull on his collar, kissing him and moaning into his mouth while Rafe keeps fucking you.  “You're doing so great, princess. Such a good girl,” JJ praises you and your stomach starts filling with tiny butterflies.  “More,” you moan and JJ looks up at Rafe. “Touch her,” he orders and for some reason Rafe does what he says and starts rubbing harsh circles on your clit.  “Oh God!” you scream, so close to your release that you feel like bursting. Your back lifts off the cold marble and your lips tremble. “That's it. Look at me baby,” JJ whispers and when your eyes meet his you feel afloat, just like the first time. “Let go,” he hushes, and your eyes roll back. You scream and feel how hard it is for Rafe to keep fucking you, but he tries anyway until he can't hold back anymore and fills you up with his hot seed.  “That was better than last night,” Rafe pants while tucking himself away and JJ comes around to pull you up and carry you upstairs. 

“Is this what you want?” JJ asks quietly after sitting you down on the toilet. Your voice is strained, but you only manage to nod a yes.  “We'll have to put down some ground rules, because I really don't wanna be in a situation where I find out what Rafe looks like when he finishes. That was way too close already,” JJ says while letting in a bath for you.  “I'm sorry,” you rasp, but he shakes his head.  “Don't apologize. If I hadn't told you to come by yesterday, this wouldn't be happening. And you should save your voice,” he smiles. 

The hot water helps with the pain, but leaning back into JJ and being with him without having to think about what might happen if someone finds out is freeing. It's nice and good and feels a thousand times better than before.  “I don't care if they get it or not. I know you can't help it,” he whispers to you, softly massaging your sore thighs under the water. “Stupid hearts,” he sighs.  “You okay?” Rafe asks, standing in the door, and you turn to look at him and nod. “Good. I have to go to work,” he says and takes a few steps over to kiss you softly. “Love you,” he whispers and turns around to leave without waiting for you to say it back. 

The following days are filled with planning and talking and fighting over phrasings, but in the end they manage to come to a conclusion that they can both live with. The easiest one at that. You get to choose, anything and everything when it comes to what happens between the three of you, in this weird new relationship you found yourself in. 

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Most nights you find yourself sleeping in JJ's bed instead of your own, but Rafe doesn't mind it much, never having been much of a cuddler himself. But when it gets to your darkest moments, you don't trust yourself enough to talk to JJ, maybe it's stupid, but somehow you can't change it.  Yet you also don't think you'll ever regret your decision, especially when you're waking up to JJ plastering you with kisses before slowly fucking you awake. Or when he goes to eat you out while a boring movie is playing.  Or when Rafe comes home frustrated from a meeting and uses you in any way you let him, and sometimes he even lets JJ join and not just sit there and please you mentally. 

Your new favorite thing has to be sucking off JJ while Rafe is plowing into you.  With every deep thrust of Rafe's hard cock into your clenching core, you moan louder around JJ, and it's even harder for him to not cum as soon as he sees your puffy lips wrapped around his dick. And you love to swirl your tongue and play with his balls a little, slapping your lips and cheeks with his pretty cock until he begs for you to suck him dry. 

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The days in between when you get time to recover properly are filled with surf lessons from JJ or going shopping with Rafe.  It's passed the point where only the three of you and the people close to you know about the arrangement. Especially parties start to be a boiling pot for dramatics. 

You're at the Boneyard, playing stupid drinking games with JJ, having fun the way teenagers are supposed to be.  You're aware that the people around you talk, but you couldn't care less because you're on cloud nine, too happy to let anybody ruin it. But JJ is the complete opposite. The more people he hears, the more agitated he gets.  “What’ya say?” he snaps at some guy, pushing him back.  “Chill bro,” the boy tries to laugh it off.  “No, repeat what you said, asshole,” JJ pushes.  “Only the biggest of sluts need-” He doesn't get to finish the repetition of his words when JJ's fist lands in his face. You yell for him to stop, but it's like he's in a trance. It takes both John B and Pope, who storm over from the other side of the party, to pull JJ off the guy.  “What the fuck, bro,” John B shoves JJ backwards but J just laughs.  “He deserved it.”  “Why ‘cause he said something mean?” Pope snaps, and you cross your arms in front of your chest.  “You wouldn't get it, Pope,” JJ shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. “Y'all just don't get it.”  “We don't, because it doesn't make sense,” Pope counters and you scoff.  “Just because you don't understand something, doesn't mean it's shit or that we're horrible people for it.”  “I didn't say that,” he shakes his head, but you're done with them, you have been for a long time.  “C’mon, J,” you say and start walking towards where you had parked your car. 

At home, you start by cleaning him up, kissing him all over in the shower until he pins you against the tiles. His kisses are forceful, and he's groping at your ass and thighs. Picking you up and fucking up into you while you moan and gasp. He doesn't give you time to cum when he finishes and puts you down on your feet.  This is different from what you know of him, but it intrigues you too. JJ turns you around and snakes his arm around your thigh, pushing two fingers into your sore cunt to stop you from spilling out.  “I know I should've asked, but it's gonna be great. I promise,” he whispers into your ear before leading you into the bedroom and making you lie down.

JJ is standing in front of you, your legs pressed to your chest, and he’s holding onto your hips as he fucks you. It's not loving and soft like any time before. It's harsh and fast, and you like it too much. You like the sound of his claves crashing into your ass, the way his balls slap against your skin. The wet noises your pussy makes when he drags his cock out of you just to slam right back in. And the way your tits jiggle with the movement. Your hands are clawing at the sheets when JJ starts playing with your clit, making you cum in a matter of seconds. You know you'll be there for hours when he shoots his cum into you and just keeps going. You haven't quite figured out which way you like it better; with JJ’s incredibly small refractory period, or Rafe's stamina to hold out for just how long he wants to. 

“Who's gonna clean that up?” you hear Rafe ask and your head spins around to look at him. Your mind is blurry with pleasure, your mouth agape and JJ doesn't stop and rips another orgasm from you. Rafe has never actually watched him fuck you, but something about this is making him want to stay and watch.  Your back arches up again, and JJ grunts and curses, filling you up for the fifth time that night, and you watch Rafe's face contort in a light confusion.  “You just keep going? Maybe you should give her some time, dude,” Rafe says, and you shake your head at him.  “She'll have time once I'm done,” JJ growls, and it sends shivers down your spine, making you roll your eyes back. “Isn't that right, baby?”  “Yes, yes, yes-” you scream each time his cock pushes against your cervix as if he wants to pass through it. “Want your cum, JJ, all of it,” you babble, maybe you like giving Rafe a show too.  “Good girl,” JJ moans and cums another time, making you clench around him with ease. 

“You see that,” JJ smirks down at you, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to see the tip of his dick poking against your stomach. “That's it, princess,” he praises you before pushing down on your stomach, and you fall back, moaning, incapable of holding yourself up with the intense pleasure he's giving you.  “Give me my phone,” JJ orders and for a moment you have forgotten that Rafe is still there, still watching. He hands JJ his phone and J points the lense right at where you two are connected.  His free hand is back to rubbing torturously harsh circles on your clit, making you mewl and cry out.  “Cum for me, princess. Make me proud, baby,” JJ hums, and you let go of the tension. Screaming his name and squeezing his cock so hard that he cums almost instantly, pushing in farther and holding himself there until he's all done.  And once he's pulled out, he goes down on his knees before you, pointing the camera right at your pussy, clenching around nothing and pushing all his cum out of you and letting it drip down onto the rug. 

“What she do?” Rafe asks just as JJ comes back from the bathroom, a wet washcloth in his hand.  “Nothing,” JJ mutters while cleaning you up, but you can't move, not yet. Your legs feel like they are made of rubber and your mind is empty, only having enough capacity to listen to their words.  “Why'd you do this then?” Rafe points at your utterly fucked out state.  “Do I ask you why you do what you do? No. Just let it go,” JJ snaps at him and leaves for his room.  “You could at least change the fucking sheets!” Rafe yells after him, but it's no use. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” Rafe whispers and picks you up, holding you in his arms while you regain your strength.  “Frustrated,” you mumble and look at him with your glossy eyes.  “Maybank? Why?”  “Fight- Asshole-” you stammer, and he carries you out of the room and towards JJ’s.  “What did you do?” Rafe barks at JJ, your body still tightly wrapped around him.  “None of your fucking business,” JJ hisses.  “It fucking is when it ends with her losing all bodily capabilities, you ass,” Rafe yells, and you try to cover your ears, but it doesn't really help.  “He called her a whore, and he had to pay for it. I don't care what they say, but they don't get to insult her,” JJ explains harshly, and you start to slowly feel your toes again.  “Doesn't explain why you nearly fucked her into subdrop,” Rafe shakes his head and caresses your back. “You can't just do shit like that, and you know it.”  “She said she was okay with it.”  “She's a fucking people pleaser, asshole,” Rafe snaps, and you lift your head from his shoulder.  “Please stop,” you whisper, and he wipes a tear from your cheek.  “It's okay, baby,” Rafe whispers to you before turning back to JJ. “Don't let your fucking anger out on her without making sure she's alright.” “Noted,” JJ says, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes.  “Good, because you gotta aftercare the shit out of her now. I'm not cleaning up your messes, Maybank,” Rafe tells him and basically hands you to him as if you were nothing more than a puppet. 

“I'm sorry, love,” JJ whispers, placing you in the hot water and running his hand through his hair.  “S’okay,” you mumble and look up at him with a droopy smile.  “I'm gonna clean up, and then I'll be right with you, all right?” He kisses you gently and leaves again.  You think back to it, the moment he snapped. He looked like a different person, more like his dad in a way, and although you never even saw Luke Maybank up close, you know it’s true. You know the rumors are true. He didn't tell you, but in your heart you know it.  If his friends hadn't come, he wouldn't have stopped. If they hadn't showed up, the other guy would be dead. If it hadn't been for you, none of it would've happened.  It’s a rather quick spiral that you go down, and you can't stop yourself from crying, not even when JJ comes back and looks at you rather confused.  “Hey. Hey, pretty girl, don't cry. It's okay. You're okay. I'm here,” he tells you and pulls your head to his chest. But it doesn't help. You can't stop feeling like it was all your fault, all the pain in your life is your fault.  “Rafe!” JJ shouts, and it only takes a minute for him to run in.  “What you do now?”  “Nothing, I came back, and she's crying, and she won't stop,” JJ defends himself.  “Go. You seriously have no clue,” Rafe shakes his head and takes JJ's spot next to you. 

“What's wrong, baby,” Rafe whispers to you, holding your face in his big hands.  “It's my fault. I killed him. It's my fault,” you sob and he shakes his head.  “No, it's not. You know it's not,” Rafe assures you, but you're too far gone for it to work. “I did it. I killed him,” you cry and he clenches his jaw.  “Y/n, you didn't drive that car, it's not your fault. Please, listen to me,” Rafe pleads, but you shake your head, not wanting to believe him.  “Hey, hey, look at me,” he orders, and you turn your eyes back on him. “Three things you feel, name them.” “Pain. Tired. Sad,” you answer slowly.  “Four things you can touch.”  “Water, you, me, bathtub,” you reply a little faster and he nods.  “Five things you see,” Rafe whispers, and you look around in front of you. “Towel, shower, robe, painting-” your eyes get stuck on the blonde boy that is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, “JJ.”  Rafe snaps around to look at him. “I told you to leave!”  “What's wrong with her?” JJ asks quietly, and your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach.  “Leave!” Rafe yells, and it takes a moment for JJ to realize that it will have consequences if he doesn't. But Rafe had already turned back around to you, stroking your hair. “We should get you to bed, baby.”  He dries you up and puts you in a shirt of his to sleep in, before laying you down in your bed and turning off the lights. 

When you wake up, you're alone, and you decide to not get ready and just go downstairs the way you are. Before you can meet the boys in the kitchen you overhear them talking and stop in your tracks.  “That doesn't make sense,” JJ says.  “No shit. But that's just how it's been ever since. Your stupid fight triggered something, and the day is coming up in a week- It's a fucking minefield this time of year,” Rafe sighs.  “So we distract her?” JJ asks and Rafe scoffs.  “That's just delaying it. No, you just gotta stay with her and make sure she won't spiral. And when she does you have to keep telling her that it's not her fault, and pull her out of it. The naming thing always works,” Rafe replies.  “And what if it doesn't?”  “I don't know.” 

You turn the corner and pretend like you had just come down the stairs, walking straight to the coffee machine.  “How did you sleep?” Rafe asks with a smile.  “Alone,” you say and take your mug, nearly burning your tongue as you take a sip.  “I'm sorry, y/n, for yesterday and all,” JJ apologizes, but you just shrug.  “Shit happens.” Pretending to not care was easy, too easy.  “I’m gonna be at the office all day. You think you're gonna be all right?” Rafe asks and you nod.  “I don't know why we shouldn't be.” 

You spend your day training, not having done so in too long for your own liking. The water calms your mind and gives you enough time to reflect on your life choices.  You know Rafe is right. You know that it's not your fault. But the guilt you feel around it doesn't just vanish because of it. 

Later that day Rafe texts you that you're having dinner at the country club with his dad, meaning JJ isn't allowed to come.  “I'll just enjoy the view right now,” JJ smiles and watches you get dressed. The underwear set is new, and you can tell by the way he's looking at you that he wants nothing more than to take it off again.  “If it was my call,” you start, but he interjects.  “I know, but it isn't. Besides, I don't really give a shit about family dinners and all that fancy bullshit.”  “Sarah will be there, and John B,” you remind him, but he shrugs.  “So what?” “Have you talked to them at all in the last few weeks?” you ask and JJ rubs over the light stubble on his chin.  “They didn't reach out either.”  “They are your family though. That's what you told me,” you whisper. “I have a new family now. I have you,” JJ smiles and takes your dress from the clothing hanger.  “That's not enough, and you know it,” you say while stepping into the dress and letting him zip it up.  “It's enough for you,” he says, and you sigh, looking at him through the mirror in your closet. “But I'm a heartless bitch with more money than anyone else on this island. I don't need anything more, and if I did, I could just buy it.” Your fingers fumble with the necklace until JJ takes it from you and places it around your neck.  “I know there's a heart in there,” JJ says while holding you from behind, his right hand resting on top of your chest.  “Horrible. We should go get a knife and cut it out,” you whisper with a smile and he kisses your shoulder.  “You'd kill me if I said what I was thinking right now,” he mumbles against your skin and your heart stops for a moment, scared that he would say the dreaded words that you knew would definitely complicate your life even more. “Then you really shouldn't say it.”  “I should, but I won't,” he looks back up, leaning his head against yours, smiling. 

The dinner goes rather smoothly, although Sarah still gives you a side eye and once the Camerons are gone, John B asks how JJ is, but nothing more.  “Boring as ever,” you complain on the drive home.  “Glad he didn't ask when we're getting married,” Rafe exhales a laugh.  “Hmmm, let me think,” you tap your finger against your chin in a joking manner. “We can fuck them all over and just fly to Vegas right now.”  “Wouldn't be the worst idea we ever had,” he laughs and takes your hand up to kiss it just as he turns into your driveway.  “My mom expects a huge white wedding. At least a hundred guests,” you sigh while getting out of the car.  “We should start planning then,” Rafe grins at you, pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head.

“What happens to that one, once we get married?” Rafe asks you, pointing at JJ who is standing in the kitchen with nothing more than his boxers on.  “They should make this harem thing legal,” JJ says and shugs the rest of his drink.  “A harem is one guy with many women, dumbass,” you laugh.  “The opposite of that then,” JJ shrugs.  “Sure,” Rafe rolls his eyes at him and JJ flips him off.  “Sometimes I think you guys forget who's the boss around here,” you say and zip your dress open, letting it fall to the ground and walking upstairs. “First one up gets to start,” you call out and hear them arguing already. 

“Just because you're first, doesn't mean you know what you're doing,” JJ complains.  “Fine, you start then, genius,” Rafe scoffs, and you furrow your brows, it was unusual for Rafe to give in and let JJ do anything to you unless you specifically asked for it.  “What's the plan here, boys?” you ask with an anticipating smile on your lips.  JJ pulls you into his arms, kissing you deeply and pushing you against the bed. The backs of your knees hit the wood and you fall down.  “Just relax, gorgeous,” he muses and drops down on his knees before you, taking off your heels and letting his hands run up to your thighs. You sigh into it, the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin and the kisses he leaves on the inside of your thighs before unclasping the lace body right on top of your pussy.  JJ rolls the fabric up to reveal your stomach, kissing and nipping at your skin; biting your hip and making you jump in surprise. He loves to tease you, and you'd never tell him to stop, ever.  He comes up to kiss you, pushing the lace up even farther and helping you take it off completely. Kissing your neck and leaving marks you hear him chuckle, then his lips meet your ear, and he whispers, “you think he's taking any notes?”  Your eyes dart over to Rafe who has pulled a chair over and is watching you carefully. “Maybe,” you reply.  JJ hums, picking up his head to smile at you. “Hopefully.” 

JJ kisses down your neck, following along your collarbone and to your tits. He sucks on your nipple, grazing over it with his teeth before he pulls on it and your back arches up.  “Would be neglectful to not give you the same attention,” JJ says to your other tit, and you would tell him off if he wasn't squeezing your sensitive nipple right in that second. His hand is playing with your sore tit while his mouth attacks the other. It's overwhelming and perfect, and you don't see any reason to hold back. Your moans and gasps fill the room, and they continue on even once he has let off your boobs and moved downward again. He sucks hickeys into the soft skin of your thighs, making you mewl and squirm.  “Tell me what you want me to do to you, princess,” JJ demands, and you grasp into his hair to push his face into your clothed cunt. He blows a little against your wet slip, and you instinctively want to close your legs, but he holds them in place.  “You should let me take this pretty thing off first,” JJ smirks and you lift your hips. The tiny slip is off faster than you can say your own name. 

“Tastes so fucking sweet, baby,” JJ moans after licking over your wet pussy, his tongue dipping between your folds and torturing your clit a little.  “Hold on, princess,” JJ smirks up at you and your hand finds his hair, tugging on the fine strands as he plunges his tongue into your pussy. His nose presses against your clit, and with every stroke of his tongue, he edges you closer.  “More, JJ, please,” you moan, and he starts to suck on your clit while pushing his fingers into you. Curling them and sucking harsher, almost biting down on your clit, and you can't help but grind your hips against him. When his fingers come up to your face, and you lick them off, you already feel like you're about to explode.  “Cum on my tongue, baby,” JJ hums into you, licking long strides up your pussy before pressing his tongue flat against your entrance and rubbing his nose on your clit.  You keep rolling your hips and moaning his name as you come undone for him. His new technique isn't as good as the old one, but you're not one to complain about it. JJ gets up and wipes his face on a small towel that Rafe hands him, but you can't stop staring at the wet spot in his boxers.  “Again?” you ask JJ with a smile and he shrugs.  “Can't help it. You taste too good, baby.” 

You hold your hand out for Rafe after sitting up, and he takes and intertwines your fingers. He's still in his suit pants and shirt, looking down at you with a lustrous smile.  “You look really hot in this,” you whisper and nod, but your hands wander to the buttons, slowly opening the shirt until you can push it off his shoulders. His abs look so rideable to you, but you are still unsure if he'd let you once you ask.  “You're way hotter, baby. Next time I get to take off the fancy shit,” Rafe growls, his hand  cupping your tit, brushing his thumb over your tit, but his eyes shift towards JJ. “You understand?”  But JJ just holds his hands up in defense and sits down on the chair.  “Take the pants off, babe,” you pout at Rafe, and he slowly opens his belt, pulling it out and dropping it to the side. It was like he was doing a strip show for you, and you loved every second of it.  Rafe pushes you to lie down, your hands pinned over your head as he kisses you aggressively. His free hand gropes at your tit, and you lift your hips to press your wet cunt against his hard cock.  “Always so needy,” Rafe mocks you before going down on his knees between your legs.  He's aggressive and fast, sucking on your clit with so much pressure building that you are scared he's gonna rip it off. But your screams just turn him on even more. His tongue thrusts into you with a harsh pace, and you try to get away from him, but he's holding you in place.  “Curl it,” JJ says and Rafe listens, curling his tongue up and ripping an orgasm out of you in a matter of seconds. 

“J,” you pant and Rafe wants to get up, but you close your thighs around his head. “No, you stay. J, come here,” you tap the bed right next to your head. They do as you say, and while Rafe is eating you out another time, JJ is fucking your throat and praising you.  Before JJ can cum you pull him from your throat and pump his cock slower, trying to pace him just a bit. But when you look at the two boys, so helpless when it comes to your wants and needs, you can't help yourself.  With a quick move you have J’s dick back in your warm and wet mouth, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. Your hand is massaging his balls, and he throws his head back and fills your mouth with his salty cum. It feels so good, you cum instantly, creaming all over Rafe's pretty face.  “Definitely doing this again,” you sigh, falling flat into the bed and not planning on getting up anytime soon. 

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The engagement dinner is jarring and the only reason you can get through it is, because Rafe keeps reminding you that it'll be over soon, his hand resting on your thigh the whole night. 

But the engagement party, the weekend after is fun, is actually fun.  You invited everyone you knew, including JJ's friends and Barry, who you hadn't talked to in ages. You spend the first half of the night tightly wrapped in Rafe's arm, smiling and laughing at some things his friends say.  Sitting on the couch on Rafe's lap you let your eyes wander, and they get stuck on JJ who is visibly uncomfortable while nipping on his beer.  “Maybe a blowjob will lighten his mood,” you whisper to Rafe, but he shakes his head.  “No, but honesty might.”  “What do you mean?” you ask and look at your, now, fiancée.  “I mean, he's been miserable and fighting it ever since we brought up that this would be happening. Not like you have much of a choice anyway,” Rafe shrugs lightly and runs his hand over your back.  “How do you know he's miserable?” you wonder, eyeing your boyfriend across the room.  “Because I use my eyes, and to be fair, I'd be pouting too if you wanted to marry him instead of me.”  “And what am I supposed to tell him? He knows I don't have a choice if I wanna keep the company,” you sigh.  “The truth. That you love him,” Rafe whispers and kisses your cheek.  “You can't know that,” you shake your head and he laughs.  “I see the way you two look at each other. I love you so much baby, but you've never looked at me like that.” “That doesn't mean anything,” you fight his words, not wanting him to be right about it.  “I mean, you can try it with the blowjob, but I think the truth would be better,” Rafe smiles and slaps your ass, signaling you to get up. 

You're dragging your feet walking over to JJ. “Look at that, a Pogue in a Kook mansion,” you tease with a smile.  “Hey,” he mumbles without looking at you.  “You okay?” you whisper and he nods, avoiding your eyes.  “Why shouldn't I be?” “Because you've been avoiding me all day.” You reach out your hand to hold onto his and as soon as your delicate fingers close around his, he stares at you. Pain filled blue eyes and a merely unnoticeable tremble on his lip.  “Do I have to be happy about it? You want me to be happy about the fact that you're leaving me?” he hisses at you, but you feel like a weight is lifted off you, a soft smile tugging at your lips.  “Come on, I need to tell you something,” you whisper and lead him upstairs to your bedroom, unlocking the door and stepping inside. 

“Why did you bring me here?” JJ asks, his hand is holding onto the bottle for dear life. “Sit with me,” you say and place yourself at the edge of the bed. He follows reluctantly, yet again avoiding to even look at you.  “JJ, I'm not leaving you,” you whisper and he scoffs. “Sure you aren't.” “I'm serious, J. Just because I have to marry Rafe, doesn't mean anything changes between us.”  “Sure it won't, until you want to have kids, and then it's no longer appropriate,” he mutters, and you don't know how to convince him. Maybe Rafe was right with his assumption about him, about you. But the thought of it is debilitating.  “When I have kids they will have my name, JJ. Do you not want kids?” you ask and he sighs.  “I don't just want any kids, y/n, I want your kids,” he whispers and turns to look at you.  “Why would you think I'll leave you then?”  “Because you are marrying Rafe. Starting a family with Rafe. Just like the plan was. I'm nowhere close to being part of that picture,” he talks himself down, and you really have no more words left inside you. 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him. Your heart is racing while looking at him and your throat feels dry, but you know you have to do it. And you know Rafe is right, you've known it ever since you let JJ compromise your thoughts from the very first time.  “I love you, JJ,” you whisper, and his eyes go wide.  “You sure?” he asks and as soon as you nod he pins you down onto the bed and starts kissing you. Your giggles and the soft attempts to get away from him are making it even better, until he has you pinned right where he wants you, and you are panting, looking up at him.  “You're so beautiful, y/n,” JJ whispers, diving down to kiss you, sloppy and with a smile on both your lips.  “We should go back down,” you whisper and he shakes his head.  “Not yet.” “They might be looking for us and I don't-”  You don't get to finish your sentence when his lips find yours again. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and entangles his tongue with yours until you moan into him.  “I love you, y/n,” JJ whispers, and nuzzles his face into your neck. 

And before you can think twice about it, your little make out session has turned into the best sex you've ever had with him. JJ is sitting under you as you softly roll your hips. He's buried so deep into you that every miniscule move is sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands are rubbing over your hips and ass in a perpetual motion, while yours play with his hair.  You think you could stay like this forever, just you and him in perfect synchrony; in love.  And the only time his eyes leave yours is when he dips his head to suck on your tits, or kiss your neck.  When he turns you around to lie down and thrusts into you, it's like he's fucking you for the first time. A plethora of praises and a dozen more “I love you’s” fall from his lips while all you can do is moan and babble incoherently about how much you love him too. 

When you find your way back downstairs, after what felt like an eternity, his arms are wrapped around you. JJ is himself again, flirty and always joking, and so incredibly more touchy than before.  “I see you made up,” Rafe smiles and holds his hand out, for you to take your seat back on his lap.  “Excuse me, you had her all night,” JJ complains and pulls you away, just to sit down right next to Rafe and let you kiss him like you had wanted to.  “No more trouble in paradise?” Rafe whispers to you and you shake your head.  “I love my boys,” you sigh.  “And I thought you went with the blowjob,” Rafe teases you and you roll your eyes.  “I could've gotten a blowjob?” JJ gasps quietly and softly pinches your thigh.  “You get those all the time, dumbass,” you giggle, and he smiles at you, completely enamored by your whole being.  “To think I get to be this lucky just because I couldn't stop staring at your tits, princess,” JJ whispers.  “Pretty nice tits,” Rafe agrees with a mumble.  “Pretty nice dicks,” you giggle and cuddle into JJ, bathing in the newfound closeness and in your mind you're already planning it all out; the kids, the dog, and the two loves of your life. 

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please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

Damn

Ocean Eyes

Austin North x Reader x Drew Starkey

Summary: Your boyfriend and his best friend have a lot in common. For one thing, they both like watching the other fuck you.

warnings: unprotected sex, voyeurism, threesome, mentions of cockwarming, p*rn with a plot

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

⭑

When your boyfriend’s best friend said he wanted to watch one night, you were a little too tipsy to take him seriously, let alone consider the awkward aftermath of such a request. Everyone was drinking and saying things they didn’t really mean or give a second thought to, so naturally you figured the other man was no exception. You let out a light laugh as his words reached your ears beyond the low music, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend from behind.

“You’ll have to ask Austin.”

Your tone was light, words slurring just a tad as you said it before resting your cheek against his back. You could feel the vibration as he laughed, hand reaching up to rest over yours on his stomach. When he threaded his fingers through yours, you lifted your gaze, catching his eye as he glanced over his shoulder. There was a small smirk on his pink lips before he glanced over to the third party in this conversation.

“Yeah, sure,” he lightly said. “Why not…”

It was his shrug and the shared chuckle between the two that led you to believe it was all jokes.

However, an hour and a half later, when Austin was leading you upstairs by the hand—and Drew was only a step behind—you started to think that the conversation wasn’t as lighthearted as you’d led yourself to believe. You gave the other man a weird look over your shoulder, convinced he was just taking a joke too far, but when his blue eyes met yours, there was an excited glint there that gave you pause.

“Wait, you guys are serious?” you finally wondered to your boyfriend, blinking at him with parted lips when Drew followed you both into the room.

Austin’s hands were on your waist as he pulled you against him, chest flush with yours, and you didn’t know if you should blame it on the alcohol, but you couldn’t ignore the excited flip in your stomach when you heard the lock click behind you. The faint sound of music bled through the walls, reminding you of the party still going on downstairs.

“It’s Drew,” was his simple response, shrugging at you like the other man was practically nothing. “Just pretend like he’s not even there.”

Those last words were a whisper as he leaned in, lips grazing yours almost unsurely, as if testing the waters and giving you time to back out. Drew, your boyfriend’s best friend—and your friend—was very quiet, making it easy to do just as Austin suggested. You were deep in thought as you looked between his eyes, thinking about how much you really wanted to have sex with your boyfriend.

There had never been a time when you wanted to have sex with him, and you didn’t have sex with him. You were starting to understand less and less why tonight needed to be a first just because Drew was sitting in the corner. You knew that if you looked over at him, you’d lose your nerve, and you didn’t want to. Reaching up, you covered Austin’s hands with your own, humming to yourself.

“Okay,” you whispered in a small voice, just loud enough for him. “He’s not even there.”

You kept that in mind as Austin kissed you, allowing your eyes to close and kissing him back. The alcohol in your system definitely helped with the nerves that were threatening to take over, and you had to remind yourself that Drew only wanted to watch. It wasn’t like anyone was suggesting more than that, and the thought of that was so nerve-wracking that your current reality seemed like nothing in comparison.

It wasn’t long before you were kissing your boyfriend and touching him the same way you did when you two were alone. In fact, when he was propped up on the bed and your knees were on either side of his waist, you’d forgotten about Drew entirely. You were only concerned with being as close to Austin as possible, one hand traveling down his torso before stopping at the waist of his pants.

He huffed when you did, and you giggled at his frustration.

You could feel how hard he was, and the only thing that prevented you from prolonging the inevitable was how badly you wanted him inside of you. When one of his hands grabbed yours, you didn’t stop him, smiling into the kiss as your hand was guided past the fabric. Sliding past another layer of fabric, your fingers grazed the length of him, wrapping your hand around him and feeling satisfied at the shudder you felt.

With one arm curving around your waist, Austin lied back completely before rolling you both over. He was moving to gently push at the bottom of your skirt while you stroked him, hand sliding and gently twisting around his cock. Soft lips met the expanse of your neck, and you threw your head back to give him more room, a soft moan escaping your lips.

You were still stroking him when his fingers grazed over you, a thin layer of fabric preventing skin to skin contact that was quickly removed. The cool air against your wet pussy lips forced a shiver down your spine, but another quickly followed for a whole other reason, and your chest arched up against your boyfriend’s.

One long finger stroking your walls felt like a tease, and when he added a second, your toes curled. Whatever moan was threatening to climb out of your throat was swallowed by his lips, mouth covering yours in a hungry kiss. The feel of his fingers inside of you almost made it hard to concentrate on caressing his cock, fist tightening ever so slightly around him and pulling a groan from his mouth.

His other hand was just dipping underneath your shirt before he pulled away completely.

“Get this off,” he murmured, helping you pull the thin fabric over your head.

He wasted no time in reaching for your bra, easily unhooking it, the pink thing thrown haphazardly on the floor somewhere just as he leaned down. When his lips covered one of your breasts, a hardened bud against his tongue, you reached up to thread your fingers through his blond locks. Your gaze was on the ceiling even though your lashes kept fluttering, eyes open half the time.

You were intently focused on getting naked, happily lifting your hips when he reached down to pull at your skirt. Determined to be on even ground, you tugged at his shirt, and you smiled up at him when he sat up to give you what you want. However, when Austin reached behind his head to yank it off, your eyes caught sight of someone you’d wholly forgotten about.

Drew’s gaze was intensely focused on the sight before him.

The reminder of his presence had actually given you pause, a brief feeling of self-consciousness filling you. You figured it was noticeable, because your attention was pulled away from the other man, Austin’s hand resting on your cheek as he softly pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was tender, meant to be reassuring, and it did its job.

“He’s not even here,” your boyfriend whispered against your lips. “It’s just you and me.”

You nodded, repeating those words to yourself, teeth pressing into your lip when you helped him get his pants off. From the corner of your eye, you were reminded of Drew’s presence again, but you forced yourself to keep your gaze on Austin’s cock, reaching for it as you sat up. Not wanting to see Drew at all—knowing you’d probably lose all your nerve if you so much as made eye contact with him—you leaned over and wrapped your lips around the length of your boyfriend.

Cheeks hollowed and hand around the base of him, you bobbed your head and slid your lips over what you could reach. You didn’t ease into it, satisfied at the sound of Austin’s sharp intake of breath, and you only grew more comfortable at the feel of his fingers massaging over your scalp. It was a soothing feeling that contrasted against the heat between your legs, making your eyes roll.

You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching between them, touching yourself. You brushed your fingers over your clit before sliding them between your folds with ease, moaning at the feel, the vibrations traveling to his cock. The sounds of your mouth were loud in the room, saliva coating his length and making the glide of your tongue along his shaft seamless.

Again, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or simply getting caught up in being with your boyfriend, but you’d once again forgotten about Drew on the other side of the room. When Austin pulled you off of him, hands on your cheeks as he pressed his mouth to yours, you could only moan into the kiss as he pushed you back.

With your back flat against the bed, you parted your legs with ease. A hand was on each ankle as your boyfriend bent them, making himself comfortable between your thighs before pushing his hips forward. The tip of him grazed you, making you suck in a breath between your teeth, and when he just barely slid past your lips, you exhaled. When he continued moving closer, you threw your head back, lips parted, and you didn’t even realize his name fell from your lips once he’d completely sheathed himself inside of you.

No time was wasted, Austin’s thrusts already picking up a steady rhythm. His knees were pressed into the bed as he towered over your frame, and your own knees were slowly pushed towards your chest. You were hyperaware of the length of his cock at this angle, thighs pressed together with the soles of your feet on his stomach. Every pull pulled a shudder from you, and you groaned his name again.

Every thrust made you wetter, Austin pulling out until only the tip remained before thrusting back inside of you to the hilt with ease. Your lashes kept fluttering, and you got lost in the feel of him fucking you. You were half focused as you trailed your hands up towards your chest, touching yourself and pressing your head into the pillow. You heard your boyfriend curse, and you turned your head to the side, barely peeling your eyes open.

You briefly tightened around Austin.

Your gaze met a familiar blue one, and you couldn’t stop the way your stomach flipped at the reminder that you were being watched. Drew wasn’t even touching himself, just sitting on the loveseat in the corner of the room, unwavering gaze focused on you. It did something to you that you didn’t know how to explain, fluttering around your boyfriend’s cock again.

His best friend’s hands were occupied, one wrapped around a beer and the other just resting on his leg when you lowered your eyes. You watched the way his fingers occasionally twitched—as if he desperately wanted to do something with them. Such a thought just made you wetter, and to your dismay, it was noticeable. A soft laugh reached your ears, and when you turned your head forward, Austin was grinning at you.

It was mischievous and haughty and proud all in one—you’d been caught.

You liked that Drew was watching you, his blue gaze focused on the way your boyfriend fucked you into the mattress. You never thought you would like to be watched, something you’d never entertained thoughts of before, but there was a brief wonder if it had nothing to do with being watched…but being watched by Drew.

When Austin lowered your feet and parted your thighs, you gasped. You were so pleased at the feel of him completely lowering himself against you that you didn’t care how he chose to maneuver you both along the bed. His face was pressed into the crook of your neck, leaving kisses along the skin, and your legs were completely spread to accommodate him as his knees found comfort underneath your thighs.

Your hands ran along his back, nails grazing his skin and occasionally pressing into it. When his lips trailed over your jaw before covering yours, you moaned into the kiss. All the while his thrusts didn’t stop, the force of them jostling the bed, and when you could feel yourself dripping around him that’s when your position registered in your brain.

Drew had the perfect view of Austin’s cock sinking into you, stretching you out and sliding between your folds.

The realization turned you on so much that you could feel that familiar tightening deep within your gut. Your nails scratched along your boyfriend’s back, a choked gasp leaving your lips. You attempted to lift your hips, meeting his thrusts and feeling almost…feral. Your moans and whimpers filled the room, hands sliding over his arms when Austin pushed himself up to hover over you. Your legs fell around him as he repeatedly hit something inside of you that made your breath hitch.

Your boyfriend leaned down to kiss you again, and when he pulled away, your eyes lowered.

Underneath his arm, you could see Drew, your gazes connecting. The sight of him staring at you made you clench down on Austin’s cock again, and it was hard to swallow down your moans. You felt hot and tingly all over—as you always did—but it was so much more in this moment. You couldn’t stop staring at Drew, and when he lifted his arm, bringing the neck of the bottle to his lips, something about the way his eyes glinted in that moment sent you over the edge.

You wrapped your legs around your boyfriend as you came, unable to hold back the sharp gasps that left you. You clung to him, squeezing your eyes shut and trembling at the knowledge that Drew was watching you come. Your own orgasm triggered Austin’s, the blond finishing inside of you, and his thrusts grew slow, lazily pushing into you as you milked his cock.

There was a loud roaring in your ears, and you knew that Austin said something, but you didn’t hear what it was. Stars floated in your vision, and you had the brief thought that you’d never come that hard in your life. You were still catching your breath when your boyfriend pulled out of you, and your hearing only just returned as you watched Drew come back into the room.

You hadn’t even noticed him leave.

You looked between them as he handed your boyfriend a small towel, and you realized that Austin had been speaking to him, not you. When he kissed down your frame, small towel in hand to clean up the mess between your legs, your gaze traveled to the other man standing by the bed. Any hint of self-consciousness you’d felt before was now gone, and all that remained was a dull heat, unable to make sense of your thoughts as you forced yourself to break eye contact.

You’d thought that things would be awkward. After all, it wasn’t every day that your mutual friend wants to see you and your boyfriend have sex, and it wasn’t every day that you two follow through on the suggestion. Everyone had been drinking and feeling bolder than usual, so you figured at best, things would be awkwardly written off as uncharacteristically drunken antics, and at worst, you wouldn’t be able to look your friend in the eye ever again.

You had never considered a third option.

You were sitting in Austin’s lap—not unusual—and despite the fact that your eyes were on the screen, you weren’t actually focused on any part of the movie. Carlacia and Madelyn were mostly talking through it anyway despite how hushed the conversation was. No, something else was going on that had all of your attention.

Your boyfriend’s fingers were dancing along your waist. It was a normal thing for him to do whenever you were near. It was even normal for them to barely dip into the waistline of your jeans occasionally, fingertips gently grazing the skin there. His other hand was on your arm, and his chin rested on your shoulder, and he’d periodically turn his head to kiss the skin just under your ear.

None of these things were abnormal.

Drew observing all of these things was abnormal.

The dirty blond was seated on the couch across from you, and despite your fixated gaze on the TV, his own stare was obvious out of the corner of your eye. It was odd, it was new, and under any other circumstances, you might’ve jokingly said something—a snarky or teasing comment always ready at the back of your mind. However, there was one simple fact that made you bite your tongue.

Austin knew that Drew was staring.

You didn’t know how you knew that, but the fact of the matter was that you did.

Maybe it was in the way Austin chose to sit down directly across from his best friend, pulling you into his lap. Maybe it was the silence between them and lack of interaction with everyone else, used to the odd comment or discussion about whatever was happening on screen. Or maybe it was the way Austin would sometimes stare straight ahead at Drew, not even pretending to pay attention to the movie even if only for a few seconds.

Drew was watching you…your boyfriend knew…and he was feeding into it.

Why?

The most obvious answer seemed the craziest to you. After all, it was one drunken night that you chose not to read too much into. Apparently, you were the only one to hold that sentiment, quickly looking away when you glanced over, eyes meeting a familiar blue pair. You fought to ignore the way your face heated up, telling yourself you only felt weird because Austin and his best friend refused to act normally about this.

You didn’t want to acknowledge how you still thought about Drew’s stare as he watched Austin slide his cock into you. You tried not to linger on how much it had turned you on to hold his gaze while your boyfriend fucked you, fingers twitching and possibly yearning for something to touch. You kept telling yourself that things could go back to normal if it weren’t for the two blondes playing whatever game they decided they liked.

It wasn’t just you sitting in Austin’s lap during a movie. It was the other week when he’d kissed the back of your neck, just barely bending you against the counter in the kitchen. Drew had been on the other side. It was last Tuesday when your boyfriend twirled you in the new dress he bought you, asking Drew what he thought—something he’d never done before. It was yesterday when you bought a milkshake, Austin suggesting that you let Drew have a taste too despite the fact that there was only one straw.

No one was more relieved than you when the movie ended, and your friends started to leave your boyfriend’s place one by one. You looked forward to being able to finally relax, and you tried to ignore the way Drew lingered, seeing the rest of your friends off alongside you. You convinced yourself that he would be leaving right after he used the restroom, but the way Austin pulled you into his lap the moment he disappeared had you second guessing yourself.

“Drew’s still here,” you whispered to him when his lips met yours.

When he barely pulled away, his blue eyes searched yours. Your boyfriend’s arms were circled around your waist, and there was an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite name. Despite that, your heart still skipped a beat in your chest at the sight of it, and for some reason, a warm sensation settled between your legs when Austin pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Is that okay…?” he softly wondered, something else unspoken in that question.

There was no alcohol in your system today, so whatever answer you gave to the silent question in his eyes when he pulled away would be all you. There wouldn’t be anything you could blame it on, and you swallowed at the thought of what happened that night no longer being confined to a drunken and impulsive choice at a party. Your heartbeat felt so heavy and loud, but the twisting sensation deep in your gut overpowered that.

It was a reluctant admission, but you liked having Drew watch, breath shaky at the mere memory of his eyes on you while Austin was inside of you. It brought on a kind of arousal you didn’t think was possible for you, and you knew that your eyes told an answer before your lips did by the way the corner of Austin’s mouth curved upwards just so slightly.

“Yes,” you barely breathed. “That’s okay.”

You closed your eyes when he kissed you again, his hands sliding to the small of your back. The TV was off, and the only light that bled into the living room came from the kitchen. You felt more nervous than last time, and you almost wished that you did have a shot of something in your system. When Austin got your jeans off, your panties going with them, you were embarrassed by how wet you already were.

When your boyfriend’s fingers touched you, the soft laugh that reached your ears was more sly than humorous.

You didn’t need to admit to him that you were turned on by Drew watching him fuck you—it was obvious. Not only was it evident in the way you were already dripping at the thought, but also in the way you pulled at your boyfriend and his clothes, needing him naked and on top of you in any way.

Your knees were pressed into the couch, hands digging into the arm of the couch, when you glanced up. Austin was behind you, a hand on your hip while his other stroked himself. Your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your chest, even more so at the sight of a familiar figure standing at the entrance to the living room.

The light of the kitchen behind him created a shadowy outline of your friend, but you could still make out his features. His blue eyes sparkled in the limited lighting, and you didn’t miss the way his tongue darted out to touch his lip. Austin’s fingers danced up your spine before he slid his cock into you in one smooth thrust.

The swift intrusion made you gasp, and you dug your nails into the fabric of the couch. Your boyfriend’s cock was soaked in your essence in no time, each thrust smoother than the last as you only grew wetter at the sight of Drew watching you. With no TV or music on, the rest of the house was quiet.

The only thing that could be heard was Austin’s soft grunts, the gasps and whimpers you tried to bite back, and the lewd wet sounds of your boyfriend’s cock plunging into your cunt. You almost felt ashamed of how wet you were, but you couldn’t find it in you to. You eagerly pushed back against Austin’s movements, meeting his thrusts.

You lowered your head for just a moment, unable to hold it up. The sound of skin slapping against skin soon reached your ears as his thrusts became rougher. You closed your eyes, focusing on the feel of your boyfriend’s cock easily sliding along your walls, stroking that fire inside of you and making your toes curl. Austin bent over you, and you shuddered when his lips grazed your ear.

“Can he touch you?”

The question was evenly whispered into your ear, the nature of it startling you, making you lift your head.

Your lips parted at the sight of Drew standing so close, now. You hadn’t even heard him move, and Austin’s lips were still at your ear as you stared at his best friend, your lashes fluttering at the feel of the long and slow movements he’d now adopted. A drawn-out moan crawled from your throat when your boyfriend completely pulled out before slowly dipping his cock back into you.

Your arms gave an answer before your lips could.

You reached out towards the blond before you with one hand, the other twisting into the fabric of his shirt. His hand was tight on yours, steadying you as the force of Austin’s thrusts jostled you. You were surprised to feel Drew’s free hand on your face, thumb brushing along your lips and pulling at them. It wasn’t hard to imagine what he was thinking about when he slipped his thumb past them, and without even thinking about it, you wrapped your lips around the appendage.

At the glint that passed through his gaze, you sucked on it.

You were so close, and you knew your boyfriend could tell. He could always tell, and you only moaned his name when his hand rested on your throat, pulling you back against his chest as he sat up. The hand that was intwined with Drew’s guided it to your chest, and your eyes rolled at the feel of him taking your nipple between his fingers.

“I’m…” you gasped, words dying in the air as your breath hitched.

Austin’s thrusts were growing sloppy, uneven, and you could feel your own body starting to tighten.

“Fuck, look at you.”

Drew’s voice had you mentally tumbling, clenching down on Austin just after he started to spill inside of you. You frantically grabbed both of Drew’s hands as you did, tightly squeezing them as you came around your boyfriend—hard. Drew didn’t let go, keeping hold of your hands as he watched you push back against Austin, still fucking yourself onto his softening cock.

There was a dull buzzing beneath your skin all over, and you were very aware of Austin’s fingers harshly pressing into the skin of your waist and Drew’s hands against your clammy ones. Every lazy push onto your boyfriend made you shudder some more, remnants of your orgasm still passing through you, and if he minded the overstimulation, he didn’t protest. A thin layer of sweat coated your skin.

When the other blond pulled out of you, you collapsed in Drew’s arms, fighting to catch your breath. When your boyfriend said something about running you a bath, you only gave a hum and a lazy nod, eyes drooping as you rested your cheek against Drew’s torso. You didn’t want to let go of his hands, and you desperately tried not to read into that.

If anyone noticed the way Drew’s fingers would graze your waist when he walked by, they didn’t speak on it. You hoped that no one would think anything of him resting his hands on your shoulders sometimes or the way he was always the last one to leave Austin’s place whenever he had people over. You liked to think that you and Austin being the last to leave his place maybe evened it out.

You were addicted to the overwhelming feel of your boyfriend’s cock inside of you and his best friend’s eyes on you.

The first time had been an impulsive alcohol fueled decision. The second time had been a sober level-headed one by all accounts, a reluctant silent admission of what you wanted. The third and fourth and fifth time was pure indulgence of unrestrained desires, gaze meeting a familiar blue pair every time as you put on a show for him.

Sometimes he’d stand near, pinning your hands down while Austin fucked you or fisting his hands into your hair while you moved your mouth over your boyfriend’s cock. Each time, Drew got a little more bolder and participated a little more, never kissing you…never fucking you…but leaving you wishing that he had.

You thought of the times you came around Austin while staring at Drew. One leg on the counter chair while Drew watched from the living room. Holding his gaze as he stood behind the couch, watching you push yourself down onto Austin’s cock over and over again. Head hanging off the bed as you stared into his eyes upside down, your boyfriend curving his hips into yours.

You knew it was only a matter of time.

…and sometimes you wanted it, usually in the heat of the moment when you could only think about being held down and fucked into the bed. However, once the moment passed, you sometimes found yourself wondering if that was a good idea. The situation you found yourself in was already messy, and actually having sex with the other blond man would just make things messier.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Already he touched you and navigated around you like he was your second boyfriend instead of whatever he actually was. It wasn’t something that was ever discussed—at least to your knowledge—and Austin didn’t seem to mind whenever his best friend would touch you and stroke you and cup your chest. That was fun in the name of the heat of the moment though, and it was fun that never progressed into anything more.

It never occurred to you that Drew and Austin were on the same page.

…and only waiting for you to catch up.

The moment Chase left the house, Austin guided you to your feet, his cock slipping out of you with a soft ‘pop’. Keeping your boyfriend nice and warm inside of you had tested you more than you thought it would. Especially around your friends who were none the wiser—all except one. Drew’s heated gaze told you that he knew what was going on even if Austin never did, and every brush of your thighs as you walked to his room only made your arousal worse.

You could only focus on chasing your high when you finally sank yourself down onto Austin’s cock. It was still wet from your juices, enveloping him with ease as you dripped down your thighs. You both let out the same soft sigh, your boyfriend’s hands immediately finding a home on your waist. For the first time in a month, you forgot all about the other person in the room.

Your hands were flat against Austin’s chest, steadying yourself to slide up and down his cock. You kept pulling yourself up until only the tip remained before completely covering him again, lashes fluttering. When you leaned over to kiss him, he grinned into it, arms snaking around your waist before bending his knees, pushing himself up into you.

The shock of it made you gasp, nails pressing into his shoulder as he sat up. You circled your hips in his lap, your boyfriend’s lips grazing over your collarbone and teeth nipping at the skin of your chest. When his hand slid from your waist and up in between your breasts, you let your head fall back. The same hand slowly snaked around your throat as he pushed himself to his knees, and with your head almost touching the mattress, he jerked his hips into yours.

You moaned at the feeling, and when your eyes focused, you were reminded of Drew’s presence.

Even upside down, the intensity in his gaze was undeniable, and you could only think about both of their hands on you. Too many times you thought about Drew’s lips on yours or the feel of his weight pressing down on you or what his cock would feel like inside of you. As Austin thrust into you again, you let out a choked whine.

“Fuck me,” you moaned, hand reaching out to him.

You didn’t miss the smirk that danced along his lips as your words reached his ears. Austin pulled you upright then, pulling you into a kiss as he fell back. You were eager to start working your hips over him again, sliding yourself down onto him and clenching every time you lifted yourself. When you sat up straight, hands pressed to his stomach, your boyfriend was grinning up at you.

You didn’t quite understand why until a hand curled around your throat.

Your gasp was loud—from both shock and excitement—and when Drew pulled your head back, his lips covered yours. The kiss was hungry and head-spinning, his other hand covering a breast while Austin had a tight grip on your hips, lifting his own hips and still fucking you. Drew’s hand tightened just a tad on your throat, and you moaned into his mouth.

When both of his hands slid down, he pulled you off of your boyfriend.

Back flat against the bed, you looked up at him in wonder as he got undressed, Austin briefly sliding two fingers into you, curling them and making you excitedly jolt. When Drew made himself comfortable between your legs, he was stroking himself, and you watched with parted lips. It was only just hitting you that you were about to fuck someone who wasn’t your boyfriend, and when Drew dragged you closer, your stomach flipped.

When the head of his cock pressed against your opening, you excitedly rolled your hips. He chuckled at that, tightening his grip and holding you in place. As he slid into you inch by inch, cock brushing along your lips, you let out a silent moan, mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathed, resting against you and basking in the feel of you wrapped around him. “She’s choking me.”

His awe didn’t last for long, pulling back before swiftly thrusting back into you. The bed shook from his movements, and just when you were about to reach down and touch his hands, Drew grabbed one of your legs. He pushed it towards you, resting his hand on the bed there to keep it in place, your leg bending over his arm. The new angle had you gasping, his cock hitting something in you that wouldn’t allow you to catch your breath.

You could admit to yourself now that you’d wanted this since that first night. You hadn’t just been turned on by the sight of him watching you, but in the back of your mind, there was curiosity about what it’d feel like too. You recalled the twitch of his fingers, and how on some subconscious level, you’d known it was you he wanted to touch.

Your nails pressed into his shoulders, this new length and girth making you flutter around him. It was just like you imagined, feeling stretched out and so full in a different way than what you were used to, squirming beneath him to adjust. He snapped his hips against yours, gaze lowering every so often to focus on where he disappeared into you. You followed his lead, mesmerized by the glistening of his cock, the length covered in your essence and evidence of how badly you wanted him.

His free hand was pressed into your hip so firmly that you knew it would probably bruise.

You liked the thought for some reason, a shudder passing through you at the thought of walking around with a mark given by him. Every push of his cock into you resulted in you clenching down on him, as if trying to pull him back in and keep him there. You were thankful when he let your leg fall, letting you wrap your legs around him, hooking your ankles at the small of his back.

With your head just at the edge of the bed, you were unsurprised to see Austin approaching you, his hands resting on your cheeks as you tilted your head back. Opening your mouth for him, you let him dip his cock into it, sliding his length along your tongue. You could feel Drew nipping at you, teeth grazing your skin, and you shuddered at the onslaught of sensations. You only had a brief reprieve when he flipped you over, hands pressing into the bed just as he pulled you back onto him.

Your boyfriend’s hand found a home in your hair, pulling your face closer to him. His cock went in easier this time, gliding back and forth over your tongue. You sucked in your cheeks, sliding your mouth over the length of him, a moan escaping at an intentional thrust from Drew, and Austin groaned at the feel. When his hands tightened against your scalp, you relaxed your jaw.

You couldn’t deny the way you tightened around Drew as Austin fucked your face, hips gently surging forward as he used your mouth. When you looked up at him, your gaze met his, and your heart fluttered at the way he cupped your face. You noted that you could taste yourself on him, and you held his blue eyes with your own while Drew continued to plunge his cock into you, chasing both of your highs. The heavy breathing from both of them affected you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching down and touching yourself, the tips of your fingers lightly meeting Drew’s cock.

When Austin came onto your tongue, he stilled in your mouth, sighing above you before partially pulling out. He stroked himself onto your tongue, lightly tapping the tip of him against it, and only pulling away when he was satisfied. When you came around Drew, your head fell back down against the bed, stomach tightening as you shuddered beneath him.

He didn’t stop fucking you even when you collapsed, hips slapping against your backside until he finally came too, thrusts growing sloppy and slow as he finished inside of you. You were still trembling when he did, vision just a tad fuzzy, and when your boyfriend laid down beside you—still out of breath—you rested your head on his shoulder.

Drew took his time pulling out of you, and you felt so wet and satisfied and exhausted. You could feel him tracing patterns into the skin of your back after a while, and when your boyfriend started playing with your fingers, you only worried about who you were going to shower with.

Oh this is gooood good

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, 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 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.

Tonight 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 all 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.

(to be continued)

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

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A Milkmaid Sundress - Rafe Cameron

curvy!femalereader +18ish fluffy💕

This is part 1 of my Lost Asks Series where I do my best to recall the 20 asks I lost 😭

Anon Ask: best friend Rafe who has always had a thing for the reader

Unedited

Short (sorry I don't have a word count)

Rafe’s lashes beat just before clearing his throat, his ocean eyes floating between your gaze and your lips dipping lower from time to time when he thinks you won’t notice. The outfit was intentional, picked just for him, your body wearing like it was meant to be worn. Rafe rests his large hand on your lower back, watching your body arch ever so slightly; the curves of your breasts even more pronounced, making him shift in his pressed blue slacks.

Of course, he had to tell you something intimate, nothing out of the ordinary considering you’re best friends, intimacy coming by way of his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his strong chest presses against your breast. His voice is gravelly and soft, raspy in a way that tickles your ear, making you turn your cheek into him even more as he tells you about some drama between Topper and his new girl. He thought he was being slick, the blonde tugging lightly at the strings of the bow that sat prettily between your breasts. It was just light enough that he assumed you wouldn't notice but you did, after you waited for him to mention it first. Rafe rolls out the tension in his neck as he catches sight of your delicate lace bra, thinking to himself how satisfying it would be to tear it before tearing into you. The sexual tension alone leaving him on edge.

His eyes never leave you as you step away from the bar, wandering toward the bathroom as the material moves with you. Your plump ass bounces with each step you take, the nervous rapping of his ringed-finger on the wood bartop keeping time with your steps.

Would this be the moment that he made a move? Maybe he could catch you in the hallway before you came back?

He surveys the scene before strutting just a few steps, his jaw clenching at the opportunity lost as he catches sight of you. His eyes roll back as he takes you in for what seems like the first time as his focus falls to the bottom. The high slit up the middle of your thigh taunts him with every movement as you walk closer and closer. Rafe, not realizing he was holding his breath until you opened your mouth.

“I have to go,” you sigh. Rafe’s whole demeanor shifts, thinking the two of you would spend the afternoon with your friends sipping drinks.

“You sure?” He asks as his hand lands on your hip, making him even more desperate as he feels the warmth of your skin underneath.

“Sorry,” you breathe patting his chest and walking away.

It's like you can feel his eyes on you, studying you until you fall out of view. You smile to yourself biting your lip as you watch the text message that you sent in the bathroom shift from unread to read. Wanna get outta here? Finishing it all off with a picture of your pretty laced-covered tits and glossed pout.

You step out of the country club and into the parking lot, heels clicking against the cobblestone walk for not but two seconds until you’re pulled back. Rafe claims your lips, hands cupping your cheeks as your wide-eyed flutter shut. It's a deep, passionate kiss, the kinda of kiss you’ve been wanting from him for years. Rafe pulls away for a moment, a soft breath and a smile felt against your lips, just a caesura before going in for more. His large hands hug your ribs; thumbs brushing the bottom of your breasts before finding their final resting place just above your ass, bunching the material just enough to tease.

“Let's get outta here, princess.”

Hi! If you don't see your name on here the username wasn't populating an account 💕 if you would like to sign up again or let me know I can add you

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Glad you were able to get it uploaded! Soooo good.

Unexpected 5

Pairing: Rafe Cameron X Reader

Summary: Things are going great with you and Rafe but when you finally get a chance to have your two worlds come together for a night everything comes to a head.

Chapter Warning: angst, fluff, protective Rafe, Protective John B, JJ is a douche, smut, violence

Not beta read we die like men

WC: 4,640

OBX Masterlist - Series Masterlist

About two weeks after John B and Sarah accidentally found out about you and Rafe, you decided to bite the bullet and talk to Pope and Cleo. You had a few moments of panic while waiting for them to meet you at the chateau to talk, but it turns out telling Pope and Cleo wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be. Pope understandably freaked out, but after John B talked him down, he sat down and actually talked to you about what had happened and how you and Rafe came to be in a relationship. It took some convincing, but he eventually came around to the idea. You didn’t expect them to become friends in any capacity, but Pope agreed to be civil as long as you were happy. Cleo was by far the easiest to convince since she didn’t have an extensive past with Rafe like the rest of your friend group, but much like John B she was all for the idea of disposing of Rafe’s corpse if he hurt you. Everyone agreed to let you tell JJ and Kie in your own time, especially since everyone knew how telling the hot-headed blond was likely to go. You and JJ weren’t as close as you used to be, and it seemed like ever since him and Kie started dating, every time you were around each other, you would either avoid him all together or he would act hostile towards you. He would often scrutinize you, making comments about why you weren’t around as often or questioning why you were smiling at your phone; he even seemed to get annoyed about you showing affection to your other friends. So they really couldn’t fault you for wanting to put off telling JJ and Kie for as long as possible. In the meantime, you felt like you were doing a pretty damn good job of balancing your time between friends, Rafe, and work. Although you could admit to yourself that it would be a lot easier if Rafe could spend time with your friends too, but until you talked to JJ, that couldn’t happen.

 You were currently trying not to laugh as you held Rafe’s hands while he attempted to balance on your skateboard. You pulled him across the deserted skatepark in the middle of the night. “I’m going to let go now.” Rafe gripped your hands harder. “Don’t you dare! I swear to god, Y/N!” You cackled as you released your hands from his grip. He rolled away on the board, managing to keep his balance for a short distance before he started to wobble. You quickly chased after him, managing to reach him just as he toppled off your skateboard, sending it flying across the park. Rafe collapsed on top of you, knocking the wind out of both of you. “I am never doing that again.” His adamant refusal to get back on the board sent you into another fit of giggles. "Aw, Bambi, you didn’t do that badly. You just have to keep trying.” Rafe narrowed his eyes at the nickname you had given him as a crack at the fact that he couldn’t keep his balance on your skateboard. You tensed as you felt his finger start to dig into your sides. “Don’t you dare!” A smirk overtook Rafe’s face, and he started to tickle you, causing you to shriek and wiggle out from under him. You quickly got up and sprinted towards the safety of his truck. Trying to catch your breath, you turned as Rafe made his way towards you and tossed your board into the bed of the truck. He pinned you against the door and captured your lips in a searing kiss.

 Just like always, kissing Rafe felt like touching a live wire. Heat quickly spread throughout your body as you buried your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer. Rafe broke the kiss to look down at your lust blown eyes. “Someone seems a little excited. You want me to fuck you, baby?” You bit your lip as you nodded. He chuckled, “I’m not sure you deserve it. You’ve been acting like a little brat.” You knew poking fun at Rafe was a great way to get him riled up, and if you played your cards right, it would end in a mind-blowing orgasm for you. You looked up at him from under your lashes and bit your lip. “I promise I’ll be a good girl.” Rafe’s hands groped your ass as he pulled your hips against his growing bulge. He nipped at your neck. “Are you going to let me fuck you right here? Fuck you in my truck, where anybody could walk by and see how needy you are for my cock.” You whimpered at his filthy words and quickly reached behind you to pull the back door of the truck open. Chuckling Rafe slapped your ass as you turned to crawl up into the backseat, with him following right behind you.

Rafe wasted no time pulling your shirt off of your body as soon as the door closed behind him. "God, I fucking love when you don’t wear a bra. I can see your perky little nipples through your shirt all day; it drives me fucking crazy.” Rafe sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, causing you to arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him. He alternated playing with your nipple rings with his tongue and nipping at the soft flesh of your tits. You worked one of your hands between your bodies and into Rafe's shorts, gripping his cock and slowly pumping it. “Please Rafe. I need more. I need you to fuck me.” Chuckling Rafe sat back and removed his shirt. He slapped your hip, signaling for you to flip onto your stomach. Rafe grabbed you by your hips, arching your ass into the air. His big palms ran across your ass before hooking his fingers into your cloth shorts and Lacey underwear, pulling them down until they were trapped around your knees. Rafe slapped a hand across your ass cheek, causing you to moan out, leaving a red handprint behind. He leaned forward, lapping at your core and moaning at your taste. He alternated between licking and sucking at your dripping core, and soon you felt two of his fingers push into your aching pussy causing you to moan out. “Fuck baby, please.” You could hear him using his other hand to undo his belt buckle and jeans while he fucked his thick fingers in and out of your needy hole. “You want my cock, baby? You need me to fuck this needy little pussy that bad?” You were thrusting back against Rafe’s fingers, but it wasn’t enough. You needed him to fill you up. “Yes! Please, baby, I need it. I want your cock in my needy little pussy.” Rafe pulled his fingers out, causing you to whimper, before you felt him line himself up with your entrance. “That’s my good girl. Ive got you, Sunshine.” He slowly started to push himself into your welcoming heat. The stretch felt so good that you moaned out as you pushed yourself back on his cock until he was fully seated inside you. He immediately started pumping into you hard and deep. "God, your tight little pussy feels so good, baby. It’s like you were fucking made for me.” One of your hands had a death grip on the backseat as the other pressed against the door to give yourself leverage to push back into his thrusts. Moans fell from your lips as the sound of Rafe fucking into you filled the heated space. “Don’t stop! I’m gonna cum! Please, please make me cum!” Rafe moved one of his hands forward and started rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, Sunshine, make a mess for me. I wanna feel your pretty little pussy cum on my cock.” The stimulation from his fingers and him pounding into your sensitive walls, paired with the delicious filth pouring from Rafe’s lips, sent you crashing over the edge. “Fuck yeah, baby girl, just like that. You gonna let me cum in this pretty little pussy?” You nodded your head, trying to continue pushing back into his thrusts. “Yes! Please cum in my tight little pussy. Fill me up, baby, please!” Your needy little whines and the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock pushed Rafe over the edge. Hot ropes of cum painted your quivering walls as he twitched inside of you. Once you both caught your breath, Rafe slowly pulled out of your pliant body, causing you to hiss at the sudden loss. He collapsed back against the door as you slowly sat up. You pulled your shorts and underwear back into place and crawled into his lap, burying your face in his neck. You sat like that for a few minutes as he held you, and you both came down from your high.

 Eventually, Rafe nudged you. “Hey Sunshine. We should probably get going. It's more than likely that someone has probably noticed a fogged-up truck sitting here by now, and with all the noise you were making, they probably called the cops.” You immediately whacked him, causing him to chuckle as you crawled out of his lap. You both got redressed, and then you climbed over the center console and into the passenger seat while Rafe made his way around to the driver’s side. When Rafe pulled up down the road from the chateau to drop you off, you leaned over, pulling him into a deep kiss. “You better stop it unless you want me to fuck you right here in front of John B’s house.” Laughing, you pulled away. "Fine, I’ll stop. But speaking of John B, me and some of the guys are planning on having a bonfire on the beach tomorrow night, and I was wondering if you would come.” Rafe furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Last time I checked, JJ and Kie still don’t know about us, and I don’t exactly get along with any of your friends.” You sighed at him. “I know, but I already talked to the guys, and they are down to play nice if you are, and JJ and Kie have plans tomorrow night, so we don’t even have to worry about them.” Rafe sighed and was planning to say no, but when he looked at your face, you were giving him the most dramatic puppy dog eyes he had ever seen. Scoffing, he put his hand over your face and gently pushed your head away. “Fine! I’ll come tomorrow, but only if you promise not to do that face again.” Laughing, you leaned over and pulled him into another kiss before jumping out of the truck and making your way down the path to the chateau.

 When you entered the house, John B and JJ were sitting on the couch playing video games. You called out a quick hello and informed John B that you were going to hop in the shower and borrow some of his clothes for the night. He waved you off, concentrating on killing an opposing team in their game. You could feel JJ’s eyes burning a hole in your back as you made your way down the hall. When you got out of the shower, you slipped on a pair of John B’s sweatpants that you rolled at the waist and one of his old shirts that hung off one of your shoulders. You pulled your hair up as you made your way back out to the boys and sat down in front of John B laying your head on his leg, while you watched him and JJ continue playing. JJ’s character got blown up on the screen, and he tossed his controller down while John B tried to fight off the opposing team to be able to revive him. You could feel JJ’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. “What the fuck is that?” You froze for a moment, not sure what JJ was referring to. When you turned back to look up at him, he was staring at where your collar bone was exposed. You looked down and noticed a faint bruise had formed. Memories of Rafe sinking his teeth into you flashed through your mind. You rolled your eyes at JJ’s outburst. “It’s nothing; don’t worry about it.” JJ scoffed, catching John B’s attention. “It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like you got mauled by some asshole.” You sigh, not wanting to deal with JJ’s attitude towards you tonight. Ignoring JJ, you looked at John B and told him you were going to head to bed. JJ piped up, informing you that you would have to wait until he and John B were done playing games so you could sleep on the couch because he had dibs on the extra room. Rolling your eyes, you went to sit back down, but John B stopped you. “It’s fine, Y/N/N you can go sleep in my bed. I’ll crash on the couch tonight.” Smiling gratefully at John B you headed off to his room and locked the door. You were over JJ and his shitty attitude towards you, and you just wanted to get some sleep and look forward to hanging out with your friends and your boyfriend tomorrow night.

 The next morning, you woke up and made your way outside, where you could hear John B and Sarah talking on the porch. You wrapped your arms around Sarah from behind, making eye contact with John B. “Thanks again for letting me crash in your room. I don’t know what JJ’s problem with me is.” John B shook his head. “Don’t mention it. Eventually he will get over himself, and hopefully we can go back to the way things were.” A sad smile spread across your face. You hoped that one day you and JJ could go back to how things were before he kissed you, but the longer this went on, and now with the fact that you were dating Rafe, you weren’t so sure that would ever actually happen. After having breakfast, you and Sarah headed out to pick up supplies for tonight before heading back to your house to get ready. You got dressed in a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a cropped Motley Crue T-shirt. After Sarah finished doing her makeup, the two of you headed to the chateau so you could all ride down to the beach together. You shot off a quick text to Rafe, sending him the location of your plans.

 You helped Pope and Cleo build the bonfire while John B and Sarah packed the cooler and snacks down from the Twinkie. You and the girls were laughing at the boys; John B and Pope were failing spectacularly at having a handstand contest. Just when you were starting to wonder where Rafe was, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist and a kiss press against your temple. “Hey baby.” He let you go as he set a case of beer down, and John B and Pope made their way back towards your group. Things definitely felt a little awkward at first, but as time went on, everyone seemed to relax a little bit. Conversation was flowing easily, and as the night went on and the sun started to set, the boys were comparing stories of the stupid shit they had gotten in trouble for growing up, while you and the girls watched in amazement that no one had tried to kill each other. Rafe caught your eye and made his way over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and dropped a kiss on your lips. “You’re staring.” You scoffed at him. “Can you blame me? It’s like watching a lion befriend a herd of zebras.” Rafe chuckled at your dramatics. "Oh, you got jokes, huh?” He stepped back, pulling his tank top off, leaving him clad in nothing but a pair of board shorts. You arched an eyebrow at him in confusion. “What are you doing?” Everyone watched as Rafe quickly grabbed you, causing you to shriek out as he ran twenty yards down the beach and directly into the ocean while holding you. Your friends were all laughing at you as you swatted at your boyfriend. As you escaped his grasp and made your way out of the water, you tripped Rafe and shoved him backwards into the water again. You had just made it back to the warmth of the fire when you heard a voice that made you freeze.

 Your head snapped in the direction of the voice, and after a few moments, you watched as JJ and Kie made their way down the hill and directly towards you. Everyone immediately tensed as JJ and Kie walked up to your group. JJ looked around, noticing that everyone seemed to be acting weird. “What’s up, guys? We decided it would be more fun to hang out with you guys than sit through dinner with Kie’s parents, so we bailed on them.” When nobody answered, Kie piped up. “What’s wrong? Yall look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Just then, you watched JJ’s eyes snap in your direction and lock on Rafe, who was making his way out of the ocean. As Rafe made his way towards your group, a murderous look crossed JJ’s face. He jabbed a finger in Rafe’s direction. “What in the fuck is he doing here?” John B immediately tried to interject, telling JJ to calm down. Hearing JJ’s outburst, Rafe's head snapped up as he finally made it to your side, still shaking water out of his hair. Rafe raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey dude, I’m just here to hang out. I don’t want any problems.” JJ scoffed. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t want any problems? All you fucking do is cause problems everywhere you go! And since when do you hang out on this side of the island, let alone with us poor people? Why in the fuck are you here?” Just then, JJ’s eyes locked on Rafe’s hand as he linked it with yours in a comforting gesture. His eyes bounced between you and Rafe, taking in how close he was standing to you and the fact that he was touching you like it was normal. JJ turned his attention to you, disgust crossing his face. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! Rafe! Of all fucking people, you’ve been whoring yourself out to this fucking prick!” You went to snap at him, but Rafe cut you off, taking a step in front of you and shoving JJ back. “Watch your fucking mouth!” Stumbling backwards, JJ laughed. "Oh, fuck off. Don’t pretend you actually give a shit about her. We all know this is just a sick game for you. Did you make a bet with your friends or something? See how long you have to slum it before she lets you get in her pants.” You could tell Rafe was getting more and more pissed with each word that fell from JJ’s lips. You could see his shoulders tensing, and his jaw was starting to tick. “Believe it or not, I actually give a shit about her, which is more than I can say for you after the shit you pulled.” That caught Kie’s attention, and JJ visibly tensed. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Rafe smirked at JJ’s visible discomfort. “Right. Tell me, does Kie know what happened just a few days before you started dating?” Before anyone could react, JJ lunged at Rafe, tackling him to the sand. Punches were thrown by both boys, but you and the rest of your friends were able to quickly pull them apart.

You cupped Rafe’s face, checking to see how bad the damage was as he spit blood on the ground from his busted lip. You turned on JJ, ignoring the split in his eyebrow, which was bleeding profusely. You shoved at his chest as hard as you could, causing him to stumble back into John B. “Fuck you, JJ! How dare you! You were supposed to be my best friend, and you have done nothing but treat me like shit for weeks!” JJ’s eyes widened at the fact that you had put your hands on him. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “No! You kissed me! You knew how I felt about you; you knew that I had been in love with you for years, and you fucking kissed me, and then you immediately rejected me, only for me to find out a few days later that you started dating Kie. Do you know how that made me feel? And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, you quit being my friend and started treating me like shit! Every time I see you, you have something shitty to say to me, and I’m fucking tired of it! I love you and I love Kie, and I want you to be happy, but you’re acting like a jealous fucking boyfriend when you have no right!” The silence that followed was deafening. You waited for him to respond, but he refused to make eye contact with you. Scoffing, you shook your head. “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t do this.” You took off in the direction of the twinkie, ignoring the sounds of your friends arguing amongst each other as Rafe followed behind you.

Rafe drove you back to his house, where you showered together, and he let you fuss over his busted lip. “It doesn’t hurt. I promise it looks worse than it is.” Sighing, you finish cleaning up. “You got hurt because of me. Everything is fucked up, and it’s all my fault.” Rafe grabbed you, forcing you to look at him. “Nothing about this is your fault. JJ is an ass, and he needs to get over himself. The only thing you’ve done is move on with your life.” You relented, letting Rafe pull you into bed. As you lay cuddled up in his bed, you couldn’t help but let your mind run over the events of the night. You couldn’t believe how everything went down. One minute you were laughing, and the next it was World War III. Despite Rafe reassuring you that none of what happened was your fault, you couldn’t help but think that maybe if you had done something different, then maybe none of this would have happened and Rafe wouldn’t have gotten hurt. As you listened to Rafe’s breathing even out, you heard your phone go off with a text notification. You swiped open your phone, seeing a text from JJ. “You’re right. I’ve been a fucking asshole, and I’m sorry.” You read over the message a few times before shutting your phone off.

Not being able to sleep, you made your way downstairs to find something to drink when you heard a knock on the front door. You didn’t know anyone that would be showing up to Rafe's house, especially at 3 a.m., so you slowly made your way to the front door, peeking out of the window to see who it was. The last person you expected to see standing outside Rafe’s front door was JJ. Steeling yourself, you quietly opened the door and stepped outside to see what he wanted. You stood in silence for a few minutes before you rolled your eyes and made to go back inside. JJ’s hand shot out to stop you. “Wait! Please, just give me a minute.” Sighing, you turned around, waiting for him to start talking. Biting his lip, he finally made eye contact with you. “You don’t deserve the way I’ve been treating you, and you didn’t deserve for me to hurt you the way I did. You have been my best friend forever, and honestly, I miss you. I know I don’t deserve it, but I hope you can forgive me.” You didn’t respond for a few minutes, taking time to process everything. “Why in the hell did you even do it?” At the confused look on JJ’s face, you rolled your eyes, trying to contain your annoyance. “Don’t play stupid, JJ. Everything was fine until you kissed me, and now you’re running around like a jealous boyfriend after you rejected me.” JJ sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I knew how you felt about me, and I have feelings for you too, but I know how I am, and I couldn’t risk fucking it up and losing you forever. You are my oldest friend besides John B and I couldn’t imagine losing you because we didn’t work out.” Shaking your head, you glare at him. “So instead, you decided to hurt me anyway, start dating one of our other friends, and then treat me like shit and attack my boyfriend. Make it make sense, JJ.” A look of shame crossed his face. “I kissed you because I wanted to, but then I realized what I was risking, and I panicked. I figured rejecting you would hurt less than if we dated, and I inevitably screwed up. I figured our friendship could survive if I stopped it before it started, but I knew it wouldn’t survive a breakup. As for dating Kie, I wasn’t planning on dating her, but things happened, and I do like her. I never meant for everything to happen the way it did.” You shook your head in confusion. “So you were worried about our friendship but not about your friendship with Kie? You were so sure you would hurt me, but what about her? You aren't worried about hurting her?” JJ nervously chewed on his lip. “If something happened and me and Kie broke up and she never wanted to see me again, yeah, it would suck, but I would live with it and eventually I would move on. If me and you got together and I fucked it up and I lost you from my life completely, I know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself after that.” Shaking your head, you sighed. “I just want our friendship to go back to how we used to be before that kiss, but after everything, I’m not sure how to get back there. I appreciate you coming here and apologizing, but I’m going to need some time.” Nodding his head, JJ smiled. “I get it. Take all the time you need. Just know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes for us to be okay. I can’t promise to get along with Rafe, but I can promise not to kill him unless he hurts you.” Rolling your eyes, you say goodnight to JJ as you shake your head and open the door to go back inside. “You wouldn’t be able to kill him, and we both know it.” You made your way back up to Rafe’s bedroom and gently crawled back into bed. You knew it was going to take some time for you to forgive JJ, but you hoped one day you guys might be able to get back to the friendship you used to have. As you closed your eyes to sleep, Rafe pulled you against his body and sleepily asked if you were okay. Kissing him, you reassured him that everything was fine and to go back to sleep. With Rafe’s heartbeat in your ear, you fell asleep knowing you were exactly where you wanted to be, and there was a little bit of hope that maybe everything would be okay.

END

Tags: @starkeys-world @nnarellia @iluvanakinskywalker @maybankslover @hazzarules @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @fishingirl12 @redhead1180 @esquivelbianca @theoraekenslover @the-sylver-dragon @rubixgsworld @ijustwanttoreadlols @lyannesworld @chiaraanatra

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guilty as sin?(fic - part 2/2)

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | read part 1 here!

content warning: mentions of sexual content; mentions of parental abuse (drug misuse, physical abuse, neglect, emotional abuse); physical violence (blood) | any questions for trigger warnings, feel free to inbox anonymously

word count: 10k.

blurb: you and JJ start a secret relationship under the radar of your half-brother, John B. But with your life in Colorado becoming more and more unavoidable, and stupid slip-ups as the two of you grow closer, it becomes harder to keep your affair secret.

Daylight brings you out of your sleep, disoriented. You grunt and try to bury yourself deeper into the sheets, hiding from the sunlight. They smell like JJ. It relaxes you like a baby soothed by its favourite blanket. But then you remember what happened, and where you are, and that it’s morning. Sitting up, you glance around the bedroom and yep, this is definitely not my room. You look down to find JJ still sleeping, his face smushed into pillow. He’s on his front, the bedsheets mostly hogged by yours truly, showing his back decorated with scratch marks. A weird sense of pride overcomes you, like you’ve marked your territory. Sighing, you relax back into the bed. There’s a dull ache between your legs and you’re slightly sticky with sweat, but neither is particularly unpleasant. After a few minutes, you decide you can’t take the quiet anymore.

You roll over and prod at JJ’s face.

“Mhm, leave me alone, it’s the weekend.”

“Wake up. I’m bored,” you say.

You keep poking until he bats your hand away. With a long exhale, he rolls onto his side and cracks open an eye.

“Hi,” you smile. It’s hard not. You feel like you’ve slept with a coat hanger in your mouth.

“Hi.”

He reaches out a hand and strokes the side of your face, tucking some hair behind your ears. There’s a sleepy smile growing on his face as he wakes up.

“Sleep okay?” he rasps, voice croaky from want of use.

“Mhm. You?”

“Like a Goddamn baby.”

With another grunt and sigh, he shifts onto his back and reaches blindly for his phone on the nightstand. He checks the time first, and then his notifications, and suddenly he jolts up in bed, wide awake.

“Your brother’s been blowing me up.”

You stomach drops. “What?”

“He’s asking if I know where you are,” JJ says, reading the texts.

“Do you think he knows I’m here?” you worry.

Suddenly the tryst of last night loses its incandescent glow. Reality is there in the morning the same way sun sheds light on all things that happen in the dark.

JJ shakes his head, eyes fixated on his screen. “No, no. He’d have come over.”

“Oh, right,” you mumble. You sit up and gnaw on one of your nails. JJ shuts off his phone and looks at you. “We gotta come up with an alibi.”

“Right. Course,” he nods.

“Um…We can just say that I slept over.”

JJ looks at you like you just suggested to commit a joint felony and skip state.

“Not that I slept over, slept over. You can say you saw shit go down with Tom, you offered to give me a ride back, I was upset and fell asleep.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. I gave you the bed and I crashed on the couch, and we forgot to text him.”

“I think my phone’s dead anyway, so it’s not even a complete lie. And I did stay over here, so…”

JJ swallows. He nods and starts typing, sending the text. You both wait in pregnant silence for John B to respond. The minute it comes through, JJ reads it aloud.

“Cool. Just wanted to check she’s okay. Thanks for looking out for her.”

The sigh of relief the two of you share sounds rehearsed. As JJ types his reply, a question comes to mind. You’d spent all last night suppressing it, but now it spews out of you like word vomit.  

“Is this a bad idea?”

JJ sends the message and shuts off his phone, looking to you. “Is what a bad idea?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between the both of you. “Us.”

“No,” JJ replies, but his expression tells you otherwise. “No. ‘Sides, it’s only gonna happen the one time, right? No harm done. What John B doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Right. Yeah, the one time,” you echo.

JJ nods. “One time.”

Thank God neither of you are on the witness stand: you don’t sound very convincing. What was supposed to be a ‘get it out of the system’ affair might have unlocked some feral part of you that can’t go unfed. You didn’t have an extensive sexual history, but JJ blew all of them and your own psyche out of the water. That isn’t the kind of thing you can just walk away from, especially when you’ll see him every day.

“Just as long as John B doesn’t find out,” you hear yourself remark.

“Yeah. He’s got enough shit going on right now; we just need to be there for him.”

You nod.

“Sides. I made him a promise.”

Frowning, you ask, “a promise?”

“When you first came back to Kildare, I sort of brought up to John B that night at the bonfire, when you went to bed early, that I thought you were kinda cute. But he got ticked off. Told me you were going through a tough time and stuff, and to stay away from you. ‘If you’re a real friend, you’ll stay away from her’, to quote.”

“Yikes,” you mumble.

JJ nods, looking down at his hands. “Yep. Pretty clear message there.”

“Yeah, you really drove it home.”

He thankfully laughs at that.

“I mean, that’s some real Romeo and Juliet shit,” you add, laughing yourself.

He shakes his head. “Shit, I hope not. Don’t really wanna stab myself.”

“No, I stab myself. You just drink poison,” you correct.

“Yeah, I’m still not thrilled about that.”

You snigger and sink back into the pillows propped against his headrest. “I mean, it could be kinda fun, sneaking around.”

JJ raises a brow, lolling his head to the side to meet your gaze. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. Little secret hook-ups and stuff…”

“You’re that horny, huh?”

You shove his shoulder, revelling in his laugh. He grabs your hand and presses a quick kiss to your wrist. Then he looks at you, smiles, and it’s almost like a silent agreement. This is not a one-time thing.

“Breakfast?”

“God, yes,” you sigh.

JJ’s kitchen isn’t just messy, it’s unclean. You can understand why: his dad doesn’t scream house-wife energy and JJ is hardly home. He’s also, as hard as it is to admit it, a teenage boy. In the fruit bowl there’s mouldy peaches and bananas which are black. Fruit flies are having a feast, so at least there’s some positives to the pandemonium. The fridge is barren apart from some bacon. He keeps bread in the freezer so at least that isn’t mouldy. You perch yourself on the counter, dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, and watch him cook. It’s domestic and dull and you love every moment. He serves up two bacon sandwiches and passes one to you. Stands between your legs as you eat, one of his hands taking purchase on your bare thigh.

“S’good,” you tell him through your chewing.

“Thanks. Bout as good as my cooking gets.”

“Mhm. I could live off bacon sandwiches,” you say.

JJ chuckles. “Think Kie might have something to say about that. About how pigs are killing the planet with deforestation and treated unhumanely and bla bla bla.”

“I love your passion for political issues,” you sarcastically remark. He pinches your thigh in retaliation. You laugh. It’s simple and stupid and blissful.

When the two of you are done eating, he adds your dirty dishes to the impressive stack in the sink and makes no move to clean them. You follow him back to his bedroom and the two of you get dressed. He recommends you shower back the Chateau and you take it as code for ‘our bathroom is disgusting’. Thankfully when you peed in the dark last night, you were too fucked-out to notice. Once dressed, you tame your hair with a comb in the mirror and let JJ press kisses into your neck. He’s like a koala bear: it’s impossible to keep his hands off you. How the fuck are we gonna sneak around?

“We should head back before John B gets suspicious,” you tell him, placing the comb back on his desk.

JJ nods. He looks mouth wateringly good in his muscle tee. “I’ll take you back on my bike.”

Every minute spent as a backpack on JJ’s bike, you tether yourself to him as closely as possible. Now that the barrier has been broken, everything has come flooding out. Those same feelings that you harboured back in your preteens have only grown with your age. And now he’s here, in your arms, and you don’t want to let go. As the Chateau comes into sight, you know you have to. John B is hanging in the hammock with Kie. JJ kicks out the stand and steps off, as do you, and you both walk over with a safe space between you.

“Hey! Here they are!”

“Hey!” you smile back, waving to Kiara.

“Jeez, you guys took your time this morning,” John B comments.

Before JJ can speak, you say, “yeah, I had one too many last night. Threw up and needed more sleep.”

“Welcome to Kildare,” Kie grins. You laugh and give a mock bow as if you’d passed some unspoken initiation.

“Right, well, I gotta head out. Helping Lou out with some jobs today,” JJ declares.

“Alright man. See you round,” Kiara says, her attention already back on her phone.

“And thanks for taking care of my little sister,” John B adds.

JJ looks down at you. There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he says. “Yeah, no problem. It was fun.”

Asshole.

Then he’s wandering off to his bike, leaving you stranded, having to act as if last night never happened. You head into the house and work on your watercolours. All you can seem to notice is that the colours of the marsh water are the same as JJ’s eyes. The same eyes you stared into as he came apart underneath you.

Shit. This is going to suck.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sneaking around was…doable. If it weren’t for the Friday nights, you weren’t sure you’d be able to cope. Even then, the question grew more and more with each clandestine meeting. How long can this last?

Friday nights were spent at JJ’s house. You told John B that you were crashing at Lizzy’s, and JJ made up some bullshit excuse to get out of hanging out with the Pogues on Friday evenings: I gotta help my dad with this thing…The nights were spent tangled in bedsheets, pillow talk breaking up the unsated touching that made up for lost time. Your body is still recovering from the buzz of an orgasm when your phone starts to buzz on the nightstand.

JJ leans over and picks it up. His chest is damp with sweat from the nightly antics. He rolls back over to you and holds out your phone.

“Your mom’s calling.”

“Let it go to voicemail,” you tell him, not sparing it a glance.

JJ does as you say and when the ‘missed call’ notification appears, it’s accompanied by ‘(23)’.

“You ignoring her or something?” JJ asks, alluding to the pile-up of missed calls.

You look to him and shrug. “Or something.”

“What’s going on with all that, anyway?”

Your intestines twist uncomfortably. “What’d you mean?”

“I mean, why aren’t you in Colorado for the summer?”

“I told you. I wanted a change of scenery,” you say.

JJ laughs, unconvinced. “Bull-shit. You haven’t come back here in years, and you’re closer to L.A. than North Carolina. Why not go there? It’s warmer.”

“Hardly,” you say. “And it’s full of fake people. Influencers and tourists. And the traffic is—”

“Think we’re getting off topic?” JJ wonders, raising a brow.

You take your phone off him and clear the notifications, as if washing away your mom’s presence in your life entirely. Sitting up, you shove your hair off your face and dump your phone on the windowsill.

“What does it matter, JJ? So I wanted to come to Kildare again – who cares?”

“I care,” JJ replies. He sits up too.

You snort, irritation tickling at your throat. “What? Cause we’re fucking you think you deserve an explanation?”

He frowns. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“‘Fucking’. Like this thing between us isn’t deeper than that,” he argues.

Swallowing your anger, you sigh and close your eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just…It’s complicated.”

When you open your eyes, they land on your phone. The screen lights up as if on cue, and you know it’s your mom chasing you down for the millionth time. You’re not sure why keep avoiding her, like the problem might go away if you ignore it. It’s like a tumour: leaving it be will only cause it to fester and grow, and be all the more awful to deal with later. But facing the truth is so painfully hard. You lean over and turn your phone off completely.

“I thought John B already told you about it all, anyway,” you quietly say.

“Not really. Only that you were going through a tough time,” JJ replies.

Sighing, you lean back into the pillows.

Finding a small smile, you sardonically ask,  “alright. You wanna hear my sob story?”

JJ sniggers but it isn’t mean. He shuffles closer so you can rest against him. His body was always more comfortable than his bedding anyway. That is his silent answer: yes.

“My mom got in this accident at work two years ago. They put her on Tylenol but it didn’t help, so they switched her to OxyContin. She got hooked pretty quick and started dating this dirt-bag Rick. He was her dealer and kept her supplied, cause most of the pharmacies cut her off when it was pretty obvious she was abusing,” you say.

It feels easier to get it all out in one go, like you might lose nerve if you don’t just commit.

“Rick’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t like me for whatever reason so he chips away at me. Just dumb stuff that probably doesn’t even sound that bad out of context, but when you’re in it, and someone’s picking away at you…It gets to you.”

JJ starts to stroke at your hairline. It prompts you to continue.

“Anyway, he started stealing my shit to sell, to keep him and my mom going. She couldn’t keep a job held down much so I started working to help out with bills. But then Rick started stealing my paychecks and spending my money on useless crap or drugs. I got angry and confronted them and…And my mom took his side, over me.”

You sigh and meddle with your fingers. The tears start to sting but you’re so tired of wallowing over it. You’ve wasted too much energy on her.

“I don’t think it’s a newsflash that she’s not the best mom. I mean, she left me with Big John for four years, dragged me across the country and never contacted her only son again. But it just hurt, having the person that brought you into the world pick a stranger over you, y’know?”

You eventually feel JJ nod against you. It’s not a feeling you have to describe for him; he knows more than anyone to feel pain at the hand of someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally.

“Rick got ticked off that I tried to go against him, so he got meaner. Left my room a mess, made me do the chores, dumb petty crap like that. The worst thing was when he found my paintings though. He tore them up and ruined them. Scribbled over them. And I know they’re just drawings, and I know this is going to sound dumb,” you warn, laughing self-deprecatingly. “But they were my escape. I hated it there, but I could draw these worlds and feel like they were just for me, and I could exist there instead. And even that was taken from me.”

Images that you repressed flash back into your mind. The enchanting gardens and psychedelic landscapes mottled with black ink, indistinguishable. The way it felt like your heart might fall out of your chest and shatter on your bedroom floor when you found scraps of your paintings tossed around your room.

You clear the memories with a shallow sigh.

“Anyway…” you continue. “I got lonely. Working and all the crap at home made me miss a lot of school. I didn’t have many friends anyway. The thought of spending a whole summer there was just…I couldn’t do it. So I hit up John B and boom. Here I am.”

JJ stares at you, digesting the story. It’s certainly not as chirpy and simple as ‘I wanted a change of scenery.’ It’s scary to strip yourself down to your most vulnerable core. Different to being naked and exposed during sex: almost worse.

“And you’re gonna go back there? When the summer ends?” JJ asks.

You look up at him. You can’t pick-out one emotion on his face, there’s so many. Anger, sadness, vengeance, concern…

“Yes. No. I don’t…” you cut yourself off with a sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do,” JJ is quick to return. “You should stay here.”

“What? And burden John B forever?”

“Sure. Why not?”

You laugh. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Why isn’t it?”

“Cause you’re forgetting that I’m a minor, JJ. And that Big John is missing, and John B is living alone illegally. If I try to transfer here and get emancipated from my mom, it’ll just open that whole can of worms and could do more damage than good. Me and John B could both end up in foster care, and I might still get sent back to Colorado either way.”

JJ wasn’t expecting such a thorough response. It was laughable that he thought you hadn’t debated moving back to Kildare. That was your original plan, until you contacted John B and found out his dad was gone. A summer escape felt like the best option, like a breath of fresh air away from your stifling homelife, but it wasn’t a long-term fix. Life was too convoluted for that.

“Why does it have to be legal? Just run away,” JJ eventually says.

You quirk a brow tiredly. “Run away? What, like I’m ten years old and didn’t get my choice on the TV?”

“I’m serious,” JJ sighs. He shifts, kneeling before you, holding your gaze. “Fuck the government and whatever. Just stay here. Nobody’s gonna rat you out.”

“What about school?”

“Pope can tutor you,” he says.

“And a place to stay?”

“John B’s room and my place. Hell, maybe Kiara’s folks have a spare room too.”

Your heart melts a little. He’s so determined.

Smiling sadly, you stroke his face lovingly. You don’t want to snuff out his last slither of hope. So, you gently tell him, “Maybe.”

“Yeah? You’ll think about it?” he hopefully asks.

You nod, heart clenching with the lie. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

You’re glad he kisses you then, because you can’t bare looking at him a moment longer knowing that in a month, you’ll be gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hurricane Agatha was a bitch. You’re amazed you managed to sleep through as much of the storm as you did.

You venture out your bedroom to find JJ leant against the doorframe of the porch. He’s already drinking a beer, early in the morning. You spot John B out in the backyard. He’s moving fallen branches out the way to recover the H.M.S. Pogue, back facing you. Breezing past JJ, you take advantage of John B’s distraction, slapping your unofficial boyfriend on the butt. He cusses, pinching your own as you head down the stairs. It’s the most you’ve been able to touch each other in over twenty-four hours without raising suspicion. You join your brother in ridding the boat of leaves and sticks. JJ wanders over.

“Whatcha thinking?” he asks.

“I’m thinkin’ that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. All those drum are gonna chase the crab.” As he replies, John B clambers into the boat.

“What about the DCS? Wasn’t that today?” JJ asks.

John B had tried to keep as much of the DCS nightmare out of your line of sight, but you weren’t stupid. It certainly helped that you were sleeping with his best friend, a guy infamous for having loose lips. To say that John B getting found out would do some damage to yourself would be an understatement.

“Nah, they’re not getting on a ferry,” John B replies.

You look to JJ. He’s leant forward on the nose of the boat. His slender frame and well-kept body is frustratingly attractive when you can do nothing about it.

“Come on, think about it. It’s God telling us to fish!” John B says.

JJ shrugs. “I mean, I’m down. Just gotta take a leak first.”

John B says your name, drawing your attention back to him. “You coming?”

“Think I’m gonna stay in. Paint.”

JJ clears his throat, mumbling out ‘boring’ as he does. You mirthfully roll your eyes. Tapping the boat in farewell, you give a small wave.

“Have fun!”

There’s the crunch and snapping of twigs and leaves as JJ follows you back to the Chateau. You wander to the bathroom and retrieve your toothbrush. JJ joins you, shrugging his shorts down to pee. There’s no need to fill the domesticated sounds of living with chatter. Outside, John B continues to clear the boat. You spit into the sink and step aside so JJ can wash his hands. He brushes some of your hair off your shoulder when he’s done, leaning down to press a kiss on the spot where your neck becomes your shoulder. His hair tickles your skin and you laugh around your toothbrush.

“You sure you don’t wanna come today?” he asks, looping his arms around your waist.

You nod and spit into the sink again. His eyes meet yours through the reflection of the bathroom mirror. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve got some ideas I’ve wanted to get down for a while now, but I’ve been a little distracted.”

He grins at the insinuation.

“You looking forward to your birthday next week?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, toothbrush back in mouth.

“You know what you want?”

“Mm-mm,” you say, shaking your head.

His grip tightens ever so slightly around you. “I’ve got a few ideas…”

One of his hands comes to hand on the middle of your upper back, coaxing you to lean forward over the bathroom sink. With that, he crudely pretends to take you from behind. Rolling your eyes, you wriggle out of his hold.

“You’re disgusting,” you say with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“You love it,” he quips. “Alright. I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.”

JJ plants another kiss to your bare shoulder, blows a raspberry, and laughs as you swat him away. There’s the open and shut of the front door, his energetic chatter with your brother, grunts and groans as they move the boat to the water, and then the sound of JJ’s whoops and hollers as they set off into the town. It’s quiet in the house without them there. You find JJ’s sweatshirt on the pull-out and shrug it on. The smell calms your soul. Taking purchase at the dining table, you retrieve your phone to find the service is out.

“Let’s see you try and call me now,” you mumble to your device, indirectly talking to your mother.

The watercolours you’ve accumulated over the past  few weeks of living in Kildare could be made into a tourist guide. Whilst the gang helped at Heyward’s, you painted the shop front during a lemonade break; days spent on the H.M.S Pogue gave you drawings of the Marsh; evenings on the waterfront let you capture the beauty of the ocean. The bonfire and the hammock; JJ’s surf shack; your claimed bedroom in the Chateau…The more you painted, the more you fell in love with Kildare, and the more you wanted to stay. You refill your mason jar with fresh water and begin to work on your latest picture. It’s of JJ’s bedroom. You’ve spent enough time in there to recall it from memory. It feels like your corner of the world, safe away from prying eyes.

As the day stretches on, the group returns to the Chateau. You hear their loud chatter as they approach the house, and it seems to merge into some kind of argument when they get to the porch. Itabruptly ends after your brother announces: just let me think. You ditch your paint, hiding the artwork under less incriminating pieces, and head out to join them. JJ sits in the red armchair you’re so fond of, flicking his lighter. Kiara is on the sofa and you take the spot beside her, frowning at your brother’s face; he’s deep in thought.

“What’s going on?” you ask. You hope it isn’t the DCS.

Before anyone can reply, Pope comes racing up the stairs.

“Okay, so um, we didn’t see anything. We don’t know anything.”

You frown deepens. “What?”

He drops down onto the spot beside you, ignoring your question. “We need to have total and complete amnesia,” he tells John B.

“Actually, Pope’s right for once,” JJ says from the armchair. You all look over to him. “See, I agree with you sometimes.”

He gets to his feet, wandering towards John B. “Deny, deny, deny.”

“Guys, we can’t keep that money,” Kiara declares.

“Okay, not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara,” JJ tells her.

Now you’re annoyed. “What money? What the hell is going on!?”

“We found a boat,” John B replies.

“There was a key in the boat,” Pope continues.

“The key unlocked a motel room door,” Kie says.

“And we found a shit ton of money. And a gun,” JJ finishes.

“A gun?” you gape. He nods.

“Which he stole,” Kie points out.

Your mouth hangs open even more, if that is somehow possible. “You kept the gun, JJ?”

“It was a good gun,” he defends, throwing his arms up.

Idiot. You drop your head into your hands. “I leave you guys alone for one day…”

“I was trying to be the voice of reason!” Pope tells you, defending himself.

You shake your head. “Wait? Whose money and gun was it? Whose boat was it?”

“Scooter Grubbs,” John B replies.

“We have to pass the money on to Lana Grubbs, otherwise it’s bad karma,” Kiara says.

“Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too,” Pope chimes in.

Felony? Yeah, you’re already pushing it staying with your half-brother, unsupervised in a state different to your mom who doesn’t exactly know where you’ve gone…

“We gotta go dark,” he finishes.

JJ paces past the three of you, saying, “if that means we get to keep the money, then I agree.”

As he comes to a stop in front of the porch entryway, John B seems to return to the room, out of his thoughts. He pats JJ’s bare shoulder. “I don’t agree.”

“What? Why?”

“Just think about it,” John B says. “This is Scotter Grubbs we’re talking about. Alright? Same dude that’s buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas.”

All of you watch John B’s spiel. “We’re talking about a dirtbag marina rat who’s never had more than forty bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden he’s got a Grady-White? Just sayin’.”

“Wait? What’s a Grady-White?” you ask, looking to JJ. He fills you in. Short answer: a very expensive boat.

“Well, I vote we don’t keep the money,” Pope says.

“I vote we keep it,” JJ disputes, lifting his hand. He looks to John B but he doesn’t respond. Then he looks to you, and you crumble under the gaze, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” you mumble.

“Let’s take the day to think about it,” Kiara says.

And that you do. You all venture onto the jetty to fish. You stand beside JJ as he waits for something to bite, fighting the urge to lean against him. John B continues chattering away to Pope, painting the scene of a drug smuggling industry. Him and JJ agree that if he was ‘straight smuggling’, there’s probably more contraband in the boat wreck. Somehow you all wind up in your bedroom, and Pope finally relents. He agrees to rummage the wreck for contraband but ensures to underline how stupid he thinks it is.

“Right, well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time,” JJ philosophises. You watch him fan out the money.

You can’t help but feel the saying can relate to your own secret romance. Is it a stupid, remarkably bad idea to keep fooling around? Yes. Is the temporary outcome good? Hell yes.

“All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck. Until then, we just lay low. Act normal.”

“Right, and how exactly do we do that?” Pope asks from your bed.

“Keggar?” Kie offers.

Everyone shares a look. You sigh. “I can’t. I gotta go to work.”

“The restaurants probably a wreck. Just skip,” JJ responsibly says.

You shake your head. “Well, I gotta help out even if it is. Lizzy’s probably gonna be there anyway.”

“You gonna want a lift back later?” John B wonders.

You look to JJ. He’s already watching you. “Nah, I’ll just sleep at Lizzy’s.”

He knows the code. Gives the vaguest, barely-there nod in confirmation. The group gets up, everyone filtering out the bedroom door into the main of the house, chattering about what drinks to get and how to round everyone up with the cell towers down. JJ lingers in your room a moment longer, keeping you there with a gentle grab of your wrist.

“What time should I come get you?”

“Ten,” you reply. “Outside the restaurant.”

“You got it,” he nods.

A chaste kiss and then the two of you let go of one another, joining the others in the main room. Your heart is hammering so loud you’re surprised nobody can hear it. It felt like you were playing with fire, kissing so close to the others. And fire is known for one thing: it burns.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

There’s a pattern seen in serial killers. After the first five or so murders, they start to slack. Cover their tracks less, take larger risks. You and JJ weren’t out killing anyone – despite his reckless ordeal at the keggar which you later heard about through the grapevine – but you weren’t being as vigilant as when it first started out. The two of you had started to get sloppy.

Now two weeks into the illicit affair, you could hardly recall the last full truth you told John B. Your alibis were harder to keep track of. Your excuses started to weaken. And your ability to keep your hands off JJ became near to impossible. Even if it was a fleeting touch, a loving stroke of his tousled hair…It was almost reflexive. One time Kiara caught you wipe something off his cheek. The moment you saw her in your peripheral, you acted as though you were messing with him, sticking a finger in his ear to get a reaction. But she saw it, and it was a stupid thing to do.

In JJ’s bedroom, there’s a collection of your things. They’ve accumulated over time the way rocks build up on a shoreline: slow and steady, until they’re everywhere. Hair ties scattered along the desk, skincare on his bedside table, spare clothes and underwear in his closet, a toothbrush in the bathroom (that he reluctantly cleaned up). The biggest tell was your art supplies. If John B were to walk in, there’d be questions. JJ wasn’t exactly known as a monogamous guy or an artist. Your brother wasn’t stupid: you reckon he could put the pieces together pretty damn quickly. But it was hard to find it in you to care, when staying with JJ on Friday nights felt like you were playing house.

You’d asked to help him shave the other day after he gave you beard burn on the inside of your thighs. That’s how you find yourself sat on the countertop, precariously balanced on the edge of the bathroom sink, with a razor in hand. He’s stood between your legs, running a finger up and down your thigh, and watching you as you work. Every now and then you clean the razor of hairs in the sink, filled with water. One of your hands cradles his jawline, the other delicately tracing the razor down his cheek, along the apex of his neck.

“Two more days and you’ve caught up with us,” JJ says, referring to your upcoming birthday.

You smile, looking up to meet his gaze. God, you could drawn in his eyes, drift away in them. “About damn time.”

“I think Kie’s made you a cake.”

“That’s sweet,” you hum.

“Your mom gonna call?”

“Probably,” you sigh.

They’d fixed the cell towers now. An influx of texts came through, namely asking if you were safe after the hurricane. You felt the need to say that you were and did so with a simple ‘thumbs up’ reaction. That was the most you’d said to her in a month and a half.

JJ distracts you from thoughts of your mom by tracing the scar lining your elbow. The same scar that helped JJ place a name to your face after so long apart. “Remember when you broke this,” he says.

“Same. Think it’s the most pain I’ve ever been in,” you snort.

“You wouldn’t stop crying. I had to kiss you on the forehead just to get you to shut up,” he sniggers.

JJ and John B had been climbing a tree and you didn’t want to be left behind. You also wanted to impress a certain blonde-haired boy. But you lost your footing and fell, landing at a wonky angle. It was embarrassing, and painful, and embarrassing a couple more times.

“Yeah, I remember that too,” you say, smiling. “I had the biggest crush on you. I thought I was going to faint when you did it.”

“You had a crush on me?” JJ asks.

You pull away enough for him to see your face. It perfectly says really, man? He laughs. You resume your previous position.

“You were always cute.”

“Yeah right. You always saw me as John B’s little sister.”

“Well, yeah. But you were sweet. You used to bring me Hershey kisses.”

Your face feels burning hot. God, you were so subtle back then. “Stop talking or I’m gonna nick you by accident.”

He obliges, his shit-eating grin slowly fading as you work. The satisfying scrape of the razor ridding JJ of facial hair comes to an end with one final swipe. You clean the razor, wipe him clean with a wet flannel, and plant a kiss to his lips.

“Done.”

He steps around you and leans forward, inspecting himself in the mirror. He strokes at his skin, sucking his teeth with an impressed expression.

“Pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You finally gonna quit complaining about my beard making you itchy?”

“Look! It’s left a mark!” you defend, opening your legs and gesturing to the inside of your thighs.

JJ grins. He slides his large palms along the inside of your quads, fingers spanning out across the skin.

“Wanna give the new shave a test run?” he asks.

He sinks to his knees. Your smile grows, heart trilling with erotic excitement. Your fingers loop through his golden hair, nails scratching at his scalp. He places two kisses to your thigh, working towards your core. Fingers hooking onto the waistband of your shorts, you hoist yourself up so he can begin to wiggle them down your legs.

The sound of the front door slamming shut has you both freezing.

Luke Maybank clears his throat, walking into the house. You pull your shorts back up, heart loud in your throat. JJ gets to his feet and pulls the plug from the sink, draining it of water. Then you both stare wide eyed into the living room of the house. Luke collapses on the couch with a sigh, beer bottle in hand. JJ helps you down from the counter, quietly placing you on the floor. You’re not sure what to do. What the best approach is. What kind of mood Luke is in. Following JJ’s lead seems the best way to go. He looks away from the room to you. His gaze is steely and determined.

“Go into my room and go out the window,” JJ instructs in a whisper.  

You nod and don’t argue. Slowly, you slink down the corridor and slide into JJ’s bedroom. You push the door closed gently, hoping for it click into the frame without drawing attention.

“JJ? That you?” Luke calls.

Cringing, you shut your eyes, hang your head, and press it against the door. You hear JJ pass the bedroom.

“Y-yeah, I’m here.”

“Thought you were at Routledge’s house,” Luke says. His voice is gruff and reminds you of sandpaper.

“Nah. Not tonight,” JJ replies. He doesn’t sound like his usual self: carefree and jovial. No, he sounds guarded. On edge, like he’s working with a wild animal, unsure of how it may react. “Thought you were out tonight too.”

“What? I can’t come back to my own home whenever I want?”

“No, course. Course you can,” JJ says.

You don’t want to leave him alone with his dad, but you know staying is risky. If Luke finds you whilst he’s in a rage, it might make things worse. He might lash out at JJ, or worse, he might turn on you. So, you slink across the room and step onto JJ’s desk, using his chair as a boost. The window slides open with little effort and you hook a leg over. The other joins it and you dangle a moment, looking down at where to land. It’s a drop about the same height as you. Bracing yourself, you bend your knees as you hit the grass. Another glance is spared to the house. It’s quiet: no shouting or fighting. Sighing, feeling as if you’re betraying JJ somehow, you begin to walk home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As you round the corridor into the living room, your heart sinks in disappointment when you don’t find JJ asleep out on the pull-out. Instead, the bed is half-made and abandoned. You haven’t seen JJ since you snuck out of his house last Friday. Sighing, you turn into the kitchen and open the fridge. A few gulps of orange juice out of the carton count as your breakfast. Looking to the calendar stuck to the fridge with a magnet, you point on today’s date.

“Happy birthday, me,” you mumble.

A pair of arms grab you from behind, picking you up off the floor. You yelp out in surprise.

“Happy birthday!” John B cheers.

Laughing, you let him shake you before returning you safely to the floor. Turning around, you find John B digging about in his short pockets. He retrieves a small, wrapped package and hands it to you.

“Happy sweet seventeenth.”

“The big one-seven,” you reply, thanking him.

You uncover a small pendant necklace made of sterling silver. It’s shaped like the North Carolina state. Lips moving, you give a small breath of admiration, stunned at its simple beauty.

“You like it?” he checks. You get the sense that he doesn’t buy a lot of jewellery. Looking up, you feel tears sting at your eyes. Throwing your arms around your older brother’s shoulders, you hug him.

“I love it. Thank you.”

“Course. I figured that way you always have a piece of Kildare with you,” John B says.

It’s a bittersweet sentiment. There’s only a month left of your stay in Kildare. Colorado and your life there looms like a storm cloud in the future, warning of an unavoidable downpour.

You pass the necklace to him. “Will you?”

As you turn, pulling your hair up and out the way, John B loops the necklace around your neck. When its secured, you drop your hair and turn back to him.

“How do I look?”

“Like a Pogue,” he grins.

You squeeze him in another hug before letting him grab some breakfast.

JJ doesn’t answer his phone. He doesn’t reply to texts or pick up calls. It’s frustrating as hell. You keep checking your phone as you shower, as you dress and as you do your make-up. As you finish putting on mascara, it starts to buzz. You don’t even check the caller ID: you just answer.

“Hello?”

“Oh, so you are alive.”

Mom.

You can’t speak. Can’t find enough air in your lungs to formulate words. Even if you could, nothing comes to mind. Nothing.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” you manage out.

“Well I guess I should say happy birthday.”

It’s incredible how such a sweet statement sounds bitter on her tongue.

“Thanks,” you reply.

“So, I’m guessing you must have been pretty busy this summer. That’s the only way to explain the radio silence since you left,” she says.

“Mom, I—”

“I’m talking now. Not you.”

You swallow. Thank God you skipped breakfast: you feel sick to your stomach.

“When are you coming back home?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” She laughs. “Well, you have to come back sometime.”

“Says who?” you snap.

There’s a tense silence. “Says me.”

You don’t speak. Suddenly, JJ’s stupid idea of running away seems incredible smart.

“I’m staying in Kildare for at least another month,” you tell her.

“At least?”

“Yes. At least.”

“And then what? You’re going to become a nomad? Hitchhike around the country?”

“And then…Then it’s none of your concern. It won’t be your problem; it’ll be mine.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” your mom says, tone sharp like broken glass. “You’re coming home the minute the summer ends.”

Your patience twists into something dark and unfamiliar. Rage clouds your vision and your mind.

“Home? Is that what you call that place? Because Colorado hasn’t felt like home to me ever, mom. Ever.”

“You’re making a big thing—”

“No, I’m not,” you snap. Getting to your feet, you begin to pace the room. “You don’t even want me there! You just want my money. You don’t want me. You don’t even pay attention to me!”

“I’m busy trying to keep us alive,” you mom argues.

“Alive? Is that what you call it?” You can’t help but laugh. “If that’s ‘alive’, mom, then I don’t want it.”

“Just…Look, we’re just saying things, alright? You can come home, and we can talk, and we can work things out,” she says, sounding more human.

But you can’t believe it. Can’t trust it. It’s like a glass that’s been broken over and over again. You can glue it together, keeping most of the pieces in place, but it’ll never be as beautiful as it was before. Your mom is forever tainted in your mind. The damage is already done.

Pressing your eyes shut, you take a deep breath. “I’m staying here, mom.”

She begins to say your name, but you cut her off.

“I’m staying in Kildare. I’m staying here with John B, and JJ, and Kiara. They’re taking care of me. I’m okay. I’m eating, and I’m earning money, and I’m safe. But I can’t come back to Colorado. Not until Rick leaves…”

You feel your lower lip tremble.

“And not until you get clean.”

She’s silent for a minute. A long, long minute.

“And what if I don’t want you to stay in Kildare?” she asks. Her voice is quiet when she says it, like she’s powerless. And maybe she is.

It doesn’t feel good when you reply, “then I’ll report you and Rick to the cops, for child neglect and drug dealing.”

When people play chess, there’s a certain moment that the game is won. Check and mate. It’s a strategy game. You feel the moment your mom realises she’s lost. Your final piece takes position, and she’s rendered useless. She can either surrender - and let you stay in Kildare without complaint or contest - or force your hand to knock her off the board with a quick phone call to the police.

“And you’re safe?” she whispers.

Your heart splinters. It wasn’t her fault she got addicted, but it was her fault that she wasn’t there for you when you needed her most. They say time heals all wounds and you pray that to be true.

“I’m safe,” you assure her, voice wavering.

She doesn’t speak for a few seconds.

Then, quietly, she says, “well, happy birthday. Just…don’t ignore me like that again. I need to know that you’re okay.”

You nod. The tears start to fall and you press your lips together. “Okay, mom. I’ll text you. I promise.”

Through a shaky breath, you feel the three words form on your tongue. Three words that you haven’t said to her since you left North Carolina. But before they can pass through your lips, she clicks off the line without another word. You let out a pained sob. It’s so strange to get everything you ever wanted, and nothing that you wanted at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your birthday passes by in a blink.

After the phone call with your mom, you sobbed for an hour. John B came knocking and held you through it, and when you asked if it was okay for you stay for the foreseeable future, he seemed more than ecstatic. All we have is each other, now. There’s something strangely tethering about trauma.

Pope and Kiara came around in the early afternoon. She’d made the most incredible birthday cake. Sage green buttercream frosting with edible flowers arranged around the rim. In the centre it had 17 written in white icing. They sang happy birthday and lit the candles, and as you blew them out, you wished for JJ to show up. Apparently, nobody had heard from him lately. It filled your stomach with led.

After asking what you wanted to do, the four of you relaxed in the backyard. It was an excuse to drink and listen to music. Pope discussed the latest book he read with you as you rocked in the hammock. John B began to talk about the Royal Merchant. He’d seemingly become more and more enthralled in the shipwreck. Whilst you’d been at work, covering shifts for people affected by the hurricane, they’d been pursuing the whole Grady-white shipwreck. Turns out, it was all connected to the royal merchant and Big John. You weren’t sure how you felt about that revelation. The group also seemed to be dubious. So, when Kie fell into a discussion about the treasure hunt with your older brother, you happily tuned it out.

Around seven, Kie and Pope left. John B seemed pretty exhausted so he said he was going to get an early night. You agreed and trudged into your room, but sleep wouldn’t come no matter how drained you felt. As per routine, at ten, you slip into your crocs and head into the living room, sights set on the porch. You stop short. The porch light filters into the main bulk of the room.

“JJ,” you whisper to yourself.

Walking out, opening the door, you find him on the couch. For once, he’s facing the doorway. He looks up from his lighter that he’s been messing with and meets your gaze. At the sight of his lips twitching up at the corners, you break into a smile and rush over. Practically wrestle him into a hug. He laughs, wrapping his arms around you. The way he holds you feel holy. Two days apart and you felt like you were having withdrawal.

“Happy to see me?”

“Where the hell have you been?” you ask into his t-shirt.

He pulls away. You sit on his lap, looking down at him, surveying his face for injuries.

“I got roped into some shit with my dad,” he says.

“He didn’t…”

You can’t bring yourself to ask, but your hand outstretching, tracing his features for some sign of pain, finishes the question.

He shakes his head, taking your hand from his face to intertwine it with his own.

“No, no. Just had to keep him busy, really. Helped out at the harbour and shit. Dropped my phone in the water like a dumbass.”

Ah. That explains the radio silence.

JJ smiles up at you. “Anyway. I’ve back now.”

“Good,” you say. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he mumbles.

One of his hands reaches up to play with a strand of your hair. He lets it go, it falls into the mess atop of your head, and he traces his fingers down your body before resting at your hip. All the while, JJ stares at you, taking you in like he’s taking in an eclipse. Like you’re something that deserves to be admired.

“Happy birthday,” he says.

You smile, bright like a supernova. “Thanks.”

“Good day?”

You’re not sure how to tell him about the greatest gift of all: your mom letting you stay in Kildare. So, you just nod dumbly. JJ picks the pendent of your necklace off your skin, inspecting it.

“Who got you this? It’s pretty.”

“My mistress,” you joke.

He rolls his eyes.

“John B.”

“It’s pretty,” he repeats, letting it sit against your skin once more. He lets his touch linger against your sternum. God, you missed him. “Kie’s cake good?”

“Mhm. There’s some left in the kitchen. I’ll get us some,” you say.

You move to climb off him to retrieve a couple of slices but JJ grabs at your hips, keeping you in place and capturing your attention once more.

“Gotta give you your gift first.”

JJ leans down to retrieve your present from under the sofa where he’s stashed it. He hands it to you, a brown paper parcel finished with garden string, with a foreign nervous smile on his face.

“I hope they’re the right ones.”

Confused by what he might mean, you begin to open it. The brown paper crinkles in your hands as you unwrap your present. A small, elated gasp falls out your mouth as you lay your eyes on a set of Winsor and Newton watercolour paints. You trace a finger over the silver tin as if to prove you aren’t hallucinating.

“You like ‘em?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

Winsor and Newton paints. The worlds that you can illustrate flash through your mind, igniting your imagination in ways that you haven’t experienced for years. You feel a quivering smile, overwhelmed with emotion for the paints and for the boy who bestowed them upon you, and look up. He’s smiling, watching you, and you lean forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love them. Thank you, JJ.”

His arms wrap safely around your middle, pulling you against him in the embrace. You move your lips to his, sighing as you finally reconnect through the kiss. When you break apart, only a hair’s width between your mouth and his, you feel those same words from earlier today fly up and through you.

“I love you.”

You say it quiet and private, like a prayer.

His eyes falter to meet your own. There’s a nervous breath as he takes in your declaration.

“I love you too,” he breathes.

As you kiss, you feel your heart melt into liquid gold. For once in your life, things feel as though they’re falling into place. The rough brush of JJ’s tongue prying into your mouth has you tilting your head. You let him imbibe you. You treasure the way his rough hands, worn from work on the harbour, slip under your t-shirt. His touch is cold against your burning skin.

“What the fuck.”

Fool’s gold.

You startle at the interruption, head spinning to find John B stood on the porch. He’s gaping at you and JJ like he may have just seen a ghost. Disbelief and horror shadow his face.

“John…” you choke.

His eyes flit from you, from your lips, to JJ. To his hand still under your shirt. To his hand planted securely on your hip. To how you’re sat in his lap. To your own tethered into his hair. To your own wrapped lovingly around his neck. It’s as incriminating as finding a murderer holding the knife above a dead body. No excuse, no justification. Nothing. No alibi can save you now. It’s a clean and shut case.

“What the fuck is going on?” John B mutters. His thoughts seem to be catching up with him second by second. His chest begins to rise, anger flaring his veins, and his expression hardens. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Look, man, just—”

But your brother strides over and practically rips JJ out from under you. You hear yourself scream out as he shoves JJ onto the porch floor, landing a hard punch into his jaw. JJ takes the hits, doesn’t even try to fight back, only fumbles to try and push John B off him. You start to scream like a hysteric. Shriek for him to stop. Beg for him to. You grapple at John B’s shirt, trying to pull him off your boyfriend, as he lands hit after hit. The sound is sickening, of flesh hitting flesh. You feel tears fall down your cheeks in panic as he refuses to let up.

“Get off him, John!” you screech.

Finally, you pull him off. The two of you tumble to the floor.

JJ turns onto his side, coughing and spitting out blood, groaning in pain. He lifts a finger to dap at his lip, wincing as he draws it back to find it red. You go to help him, to check that there’s no lasting damage, but John B holds you back. He moves towards his best friend once more but you grab at his shirt.

“John, please don’t,” you blubber, trying to keep him away.

He swallows thickly and closes his eyes, taking a slow, measured breath to try and calm his rage. Then, he turns his head to you. The betrayal in his eyes makes you sob.

The sound of JJ’s groans has the attention back on him. He’s struggling to his knees, a hand coming to cradle his jaw.

“Shit, JB. You can throw a hell of a punch,” JJ mutters. He spits out more blood. It makes you cringe.

JJ gets to his feet. John B follows. You can’t find strength to get off the floor. Your eyes are transfixed for a while on the pool of blood where JJ laid.

“You promised me,” John B seethes.

You look up and finally muster the courage to stand. You watch as JJ looks to you. Can see how he wants to grab you and console you just like he used to when you were a child. Just like he did when you fell out of the tree. But his better judgement makes him decide against it.

“It’s not what it looks like, alright?” JJ tries, voice steady.

“Not what it looks like? What? You groping my little sister isn’t what it looks like?” John B barks.

JJ scowls. “I wasn’t groping her. And she’s hardly your little sister. You’re less than a year older than her!”

That pisses your brother off more. He takes a step towards JJ but you reach an arm out, stopping him.

“She’s vulnerable, JJ.”

You frown. Offense stings in your heart. Does he really think you so defenceless? So incapable of judging others for yourself?

“She’s seventeen, John B. She can make her own choices without you making them for her,” JJ argues. “She knows what’s in her best interest.”

“Oh? And you’re her best interest?” John B scoffs.

JJ’s gaze darkens. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

No. No, this is not helping. It’s only making matters worse.

“You know what I mean! You fuck a new girl every other week! You can’t keep your fingers off other people’s shit, you lie like you’ve been doing it since day one—”

“John-”

Your quiet plea goes ignored. John B takes another challenging step towards JJ. You can’t hold him back. He’s stronger than you. They both are.

“You’re gonna end up in a cell just like your dad and leave my sister as collateral when you get bored of sleeping with a girl whose been in love with you since she was a kid.”

JJ’s fist hits John B square on the cheek. John B hurls his own punch and they end up in some messy wrestle. They fall onto the coffee table and fumble out weak throws. Fear for what may happen to either of them makes you act with stupidity. You dart forward and try to pry them off one another. Somewhere in the chaos, a stray punch hits you in the nose. Pain blinds you. You yelp and fall backwards against the couch, hands flying up to your face. They stop. JJ utters your name.

When you pull your shaking hand away, you find it soaked with blood. Your chest heaves with panic as the pain sets in. JJ shoves John B off and comes to your side.

“S’alright, s’alright,” he soothes.

You’re not like JJ. You don’t take hits like it’s your day job. You’ve never been punched in your life. The last major injury you sustained was your broken arm, back when you were thirteen. Sobbing in pain, you feel yourself panic at the sight of flowing blood.

“S’okay. Lean forward, alright? You gotta lean forward,” JJ instructs.

He shifts you so you’re sitting on the floor, back against the sofa. You let him guide your fingers to the bridge of your nose and pinch at the soft skin. There’s the distant sound of John B rushing into the house. You don’t see it, though. Your eyes are pressed shut to not look at the blood.

“You feel okay?”

“I feel sick,” you mumble. And not just from the nosebleed.

“S’alright. It’ll stop soon,” JJ reassures.

He strokes your back lovingly, dragging your hair off your face as your head bows forward. You choke on the metallic taste that trickles into your other senses. God, everything is a mess.

“Here, here,” John B mutters.

You crack open your eyes to see him drop to his knees beside you. He hands JJ a towel. JJ lifts it to your nose, wiping some of the blood off your skin before holding it steady below your nostrils. It soaks with blood.

“Shit, should she be bleeding that much?” John B asks JJ.

“She’ll be fine,” JJ snaps. He probably doesn’t want to freak you out more. “It’s normal.”

And, eventually, after two towels are soaked, the blood flow slows to a stop.

“I think it’s stopped,” JJ mumbles.

You let him remove the towel. It feels risky to sniff. The smell and taste of blood is consuming and makes you feel nauseous. Tentatively, you try lifting your head. JJ and John B are staring at you. They’re nothing less than concerned.

“How do I look?” you croak.

JJ tries to fight it but fails. He sniggers, then John B does, and you find your own smile. Then the three of you are laughing like you’re drunk.

“That bad, huh?”

“Never looked hotter,” JJ lies through his laughter.

“Yeah…this isn’t your best look,” John B comments.

When the humour passes, you shake your head and look to John B. Like a storm at sea, his anger seems to have passed, not a sign that it was ever there on his face. JJ’s calmed down too. You know they’ll have to talk it out, the things John B said to him, but words said in fury are usually far from true. Cheap shots to try and hit JJ where it hurts. Brothers fight.

“I’m sorry we kept it a secret from you,” you say to John B.  

His eyes slip shut like your apology pains him. Like you’re applying balm to his fresh wounds. Sighing, he opens them to ask, “how long has it been happening?”

You and JJ share a look. He clears his throat before answering. “About a month. Maybe a bit longer.”

“It started the third week after I came to Kildare,” you clarify.

John B exhales with disbelief. “No. No, that can’t be true.” Before you try and explain further, he’s looking to JJ. “You can’t keep your mouth shut for a whole fucking month.”

JJ cracks up. A smile creeps onto your face too. “I think it’s a new record, man, honestly.”

“Yeah, congrats,” John B grunts, rolling his eyes.

“We just didn’t want to tell you cause we know things have been weird since your dad went missing, and you’ve sort of been hooked on this Royal Merchant thing,” you say to your brother.

“And cause you sort of told me to specifically not date your sister,” JJ meekly tags on.

John B sends him a damning look. JJ cringes. “I mean, I’ve never been good at doing as I’m told so this is kinda on you. Just partly.”

“Careful,” John B warns.

You grab for your brother’s hand. A stray stream of blood slips from your nose and JJ lifts the towel to wipe it away. John B meets your gaze.

“We’re not just fooling around,” you say. As his brows knit together, you spare a glance to JJ as if trying to muster up courage. “I love him.”

John’s mouth falls open. You might as well have just told him you’re pregnant. He looks to JJ as if needing some clarification, and he just nods and shrugs, his expression something close to yep, it’s true.

“I just wish you guys told me,” John B eventually tells you. Then, laughing, he adds, “and how long were you even planning on keeping this up?”

“Well...We hadn’t really got that far,” JJ fumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

You all share a laugh. John B nods and looks between the two of you. Like a pill he must swallow, he accepts his fate. You’re not proud, but you wouldn’t change a thing. Taking the risk with JJ was the best choice you ever made.

“I don’t love it,” John B says. Then, with a pained sigh, he adds, “but I’ll get used to it.”

You and JJ immediately lock eyes; smiles of relief and elation sparking to life.

“But you hurt her, and I’ll lay you out,” John B warns JJ, in a stereotypical brotherly fashion.

JJ nods. He seems to know now that John B will uphold that promise to the highest degree. “Scout’s honour,” he swears, crossing his heart and holding up three fingers.

John B looks to your once more and offers you a hand. He helps you off the floor.

“Jeez. What a birthday. You found out you get to stay in Kildare and have a nosebleed all in one day.”

“Wait, what?” JJ barks.

Your head darts around to the blonde-haired boy.

“You’re staying in Kildare?”

Realisation dawns upon you. In the pandemonium, you’d forgotten to tell him. A sheepish smile settles on your face. “Oh yeah, um…I have some news.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your bedroom door swings open as Kiara sings out, “morning lovebirds!”

JJ groans from beside you at the wake-up call. You crack open your eyes through the streaming sunlight and look to the doorway. John B’s head pops into view.

“Get up! We’re recovering a shipwreck!” he adds.

Kie grabs a sock from the floor and tosses it at your boyfriend.

“Get up,” she repeats.

The door slams shut and you chuckle, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling. JJ stirs from beside you. You feel his finger reach out to prod your cheek.

“Mornin’,” he rasps.

You look over to him, smiling sleepily. “Morning.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Like a Goddamn baby,” you grin.

He smiles at that. Sighing and groaning and making all kinds of fuss, JJ stretches in bed.

The two of you gradually emerge from your room. It’s hard to get dressed when your boyfriend keeps grabbing at your hips, sucking hickeys into your neck, stealing your bikini bottoms. There’s a persistent knocking at the door every five minutes from each of the Pogues, telling you to quit macking and get ready.

You wolf down breakfast at the dinner table, mulling over your latest painting. It’s of JJ’s back, arguably your favourite feature of him, when he used to sleep on the pull-out sofa. The room is bathed in moonbeams, bed made up of messy plaid blankets and mismatching pillows. The new paints make everything feel so lifelike and vivid. You’re debating adding faint pink lines to represent scratch marks on his back….

“Come on! We gotta go!” John B declares, drumming on your head as he passes you to the front door.

JJ finishes your Poptart as you text your mom a quick update for the day, and then the two of you join the Pogues in the Twinkie. He hooks an arm over your shoulder, holding you against him as you sit in the back with Pope. They fall into a debate about the scientific benefits of weed (JJ is, no surprise, in favour) whilst Kie and John B discuss tactics for finding the Royal Merchant. As you rest against your boyfriend, you smile and close your eyes. You finally found your home. You found it in Kildare.

SOOOOO CUTE! I love this side of rafe. ❤❤

Unexpected 4

Summary: Some unexpected visitors interrupt your morning after with Rafe.

Chapter Warning: angst, fluff, protective Rafe, Protective John B

Not beta read we die like men

WC: 1,954

OBX Masterlist - Series Masterlist

When you started to wake up, it took you a minute to register where you were. The smell of Rafe hit you as you buried your face in the pillow, not wanting to face reality quite yet, but the events of last night flooded your mind, bringing you to full alertness. You sat up, noticing Rafe was no longer in bed beside you. You jumped up and grabbed the first thing you could find, which happened to be Rafe’s T-shirt and your panties and went to find him. 

As you made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen, you heard voices, causing you to pause. You could hear Rafe talking as you slowly approached the kitchen being careful not to make any noise until you could see who he was with. Topper and Kelce were standing in the kitchen, with Rafe bitching about how he blew them off last night. Rafe rolled his eyes and tried to shrug them off. “I had something I needed to take care of. Let it go.” Kelce shook his head. “What was so damn important that you bailed without saying a word?” Rafe shook his head, but before he could respond, Topper cut in. "Yeah, what was it? Was it actually something important, or did you run off to get your dick wet and just didn’t want to tell us?” That caused Kelce to start chuckling, but when Rafe didn’t respond and just rolled his eyes, Topper slapped the back of his hand against Kelce’s chest. “No way! You actually ditched us for a piece of ass! Who was it? I hope, whoever it was, that she was at least worth it, dude. Was it Anna again? I know she’s been trying to hop back on your dick for months.” You felt your stomach drop as the conversation went on, but your feet seemed glued to the floor. Rafe sighed. "No, it wasn’t fucking Anna! Can you just let this shit go?” Kelce laughed, “Come on, man, just tell us who it was. Here, let me guess.” When Kelce started throwing out names, Rafe just shook his head in exasperation, but when your name left Kelce’s lips, Rafe seemed to freeze up for a moment. Topper immediately noticed. “No fuckin way! You actually fucked Y/N?” Rafe visibly tensed, but Topper didn’t seem to notice and kept going while Kelce chuckled, waiting for Rafe to admit it. “Was she good? I can’t believe you actually nailed Maybank’s girl. I thought for sure she was a stuck-up bitch.” Rafe tensed with each word that left Toppers mouth, but Topper seemed to be oblivious as he kept going. “Now that you hit that, do you mind if I take a shot? She looks like she would be a freak once you get her drunk enough.” Before Topper even finished the sentence, Rafe grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. “Shut your fucking mouth! Don’t you ever talk about her like that again, or I’ll break your fucking jaw. Do you understand me?” Topper raised his hands in surrender, and as soon as Rafe released his grip on his throat, Topper and Kelce left out the back door. Rafe sighed, leaning back against the counter and wiped his hand down his face. 

You finally found the ability to move from where your feet seemed to be cemented to the floor. As you moved, Rafe’s head snapped up, his eyes widening as he saw you. “How much of that did you hear?” You shrugged your shoulders. “Enough to know your friends are even bigger assholes than I originally thought.” Rafe seemed to deflate at that as he sighed. “I’m sorry you heard that. Top’s an idiot. I was just trying to get them to leave before you woke up, but obviously that didn’t happen.” Rafe reached out and grabbed your hand, linking your fingers together and pulling you into his body. You buried your face in his chest. “Thanks for shutting him up.” Rafe chuckled, causing you to look up into his eyes. "Yeah, well, he shouldn’t be talking about my girl like that anyway.” Shock was the only way to describe what you were feeling. “Your girl?” Rafe smiled down at you laughing at your reaction. “Well yeah, I don’t make a habit of giving my clothes to random people, and I definitely don’t let just anyone stay the night in my bed.” You ducked your head as heat crossed your face, and your eyes caught on the bracelet you had made wrapped around Rafe’s wrist. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you surged up and connected your lips with Rafe’s.

You and Rafe spent the majority of the day lounging around the house and out by the pool. He was laid out on one of the sun chairs in nothing but a pair of board shorts and the sight was making your mouth water. You couldn’t keep your eyes off the ridges of his body. The man was driving you crazy, and he wasn’t even trying. The smug smirk on his face said he knew what he was doing to you, even though his eyes were closed. You wanted to wipe that smug smile off his gorgeous face, so you quietly dipped your empty glass into the pool, filling it with cool water. As quietly as you could, you tiptoed up to Rafe and dumped the cold liquid directly on his chest. Rafe’s eyes shot open, he yelped from the sudden cold as he launched out of the chair. This sent you into a fit of giggles as you immediately ran for your life. Rafe chased you into the house catching you around the waist at the base of the stairs. Swinging you around, you screamed, and uncontrollable laughter fell from your lips as he turned you around in his arms. He pressed you to his now damp, naked torso as he leaned over you and kissed you, his hands sliding up under his shirt on your body. You were so wrapped up in each other that neither of you heard the front door open or the voices coming towards you until you heard two separate voices scream, “What the fuck? Y/N! Rafe!”

Startled, you whipped around as Rafe quickly shoved you behind his body to block you from whoever was yelling, but then you made eye contact with a very traumatized Sarah and a shocked-looking John B. All at once they both started yelling. You tried to talk, but Rafe ended up yelling over everyone. “Enough! Just shut the fuck up for like 5 seconds!” Everyone abruptly stopped talking. "Clearly, we need to talk, but that can’t happen if everyone is freaking the fuck out. Go wait in the kitchen.” Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but Rafe’s glare shut her up as she grabbed John B’s hand and dragged him off towards the kitchen. Turning around, Rafe cupped your face, bringing your eyes up to meet his. His thumb swiped at the tears you didn’t even realize were falling. "Listen, I know we haven’t talked about whether you wanted to tell your friends or not, but apparently it’s too late for that. I’m here though; I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” You nodded your head as Rafe pulled you in, placing a kiss on your forehead. You took a few moments to go up to Rafe’s room, change back into your clothes from the night before, and calm down.

Making your way into the kitchen, you steeled yourself for the inevitable argument you were sure would happen. You knew your friends wouldn’t take you being with Rafe well, but you had hoped to get the opportunity to break it to them gently. As you entered the kitchen, Sarah was yelling, and John B was almost directly in Rafe’s face. You quickly walked in and grabbed John B by the arm. “Outside now!” You drug John B away from a rather unfazed Rafe. You figured he could talk to his sister while you talked John B down. As soon as you made it out on the patio, John B ripped his arm out of your grip, causing you to turn and face him. “What the hell, Y/N? Rafe! Really? Out of everyone you could have hooked up with, it had to be Rafe.” Rolling your eyes, you sighed. “Look B I know it’s not ideal, but I really like him.” John B scoffed, “He’s a fucking asshole. How could you like him? You know what he’s like!” You snapped “You don’t know what he’s like! Ok, yes, you guys have had your run-ins in the past, but he was there for me after everything with JJ, and he has never been anything but nice to me! Can he be an asshole? Yes! But you and JJ are just as bad as he is! You can’t act like you have no fault in your shared past.” Hearing you yell at him caused John B to deflate a little, especially when you mentioned Rafe had been there for you when JJ had hurt you. He knew how badly you had been hurt, but he didn’t realize that Rafe was one of the reasons you seemed to be doing better. John B grabbed your hand and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N/N. I don’t like it, but if he really does make you happy, then I guess I can try to get used to it. But you are going to have to tell the rest of the guys.” You winced at the idea of having to tell the others; knowing them, they would more than likely freak out, just like John B and Sarah had, especially JJ. “I know. I’ll talk to them. Just in my own time.” Shaking his head, he sighed. “Just….really? Rafe? Out of everyone on the island, you went for Rafe Cameron.” Laughing at his dramatics, you punched him in the arm. "Yeah, well, what can I say? The Cameron’s are hot. I mean, you did dip your stick in the Cameron pond first.” John B busted out laughing and shaking his head at your response as you went to head back inside. 

You and John B made your way back into the kitchen, where Sarah and Rafe were watching you through the glass doors. John B immediately walked over to Rafe and poked a finger in his chest. “If you hurt her, I will feed your ass to the gators.” Rafe smirked at John B’s attempt at giving him a shovel talk. “Noted.” You rolled your eyes at the two of them. “I'm going to go grab my board really quick and catch a ride home with them. I have a shift tomorrow morning anyway.” As you left the kitchen, you heard Sarah talking to Rafe. “So you actually give a shit about her? This isn’t just some sick joke to you.” Rafe scoffed "Yes, I genuinely care about her, ok? Now fuck off with it. I’ve been properly interrogated and threatened.” As you made your way downstairs, you went out the front door and headed towards the twinkie, where John B and Sarah were waiting for you. You called out a quick goodbye to Rafe, but as you went to walk past him in the driveway, Rafe snatched your arm, pulling you back into a bruising kiss. You could hear John B and Sarah making exaggerated gagging noises, causing you to chuckle and pull away from your boyfriend. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as you promised to text him later. You crawled into the twinkie feeling optimistic, and headed towards home.

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Tags: @starkeys-world @nnarellia @iluvanakinskywalker @maybankslover @hazzarules @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @fishingirl12  @redhead1180 @esquivelbianca @theoraekenslover @the-sylver-dragon @rubixgsworld @ijustwanttoreadlols

THIS SERIES IS SOOOO GOOD! LOVE IT!!

SOMEONE TO STAY — pt. 3

a/n: i’m a bad person who takes too long to write a fic i know😫 i hope you guys like this!

warnings: lil bit of angst & fluff

word count: 2.6k

pairing: single dad!jj x babysitter!reader

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—

When you arrived outside the Maybank’s household that afternoon, you should’ve known something was wrong by the way the owner’s car hadn’t moved from its spot since the night before – but you hadn’t thought about it twice when you had rang the doorbell, expecting your boss to be ready, and seemingly annoyed as always, to leave for work. Instead, a new version of JJ Maybank had opened the front door of the beautiful building, one that included him wearing a white, stained t-shirt, grey sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and messy, blond locks which were falling in his mesmerizing eyes.

This job was going to be the death of you.

“Shit.” Was all he whispered to himself at the sight of you, pushing his hair back in frustration. “I’m sorry, I forgot to call you.”

You raised one eyebrow at him, confused at his behavior, although amused because of the new look. “Is there something wrong?”

As he opened his mouth to explain, you recognized the small and weak voice of Ella echoing through the empty house. “Daddy, my head hurts.” She cried, an unusual strain in her tone making you immediately worried. 

“I’m coming, sweetie.” He replied sweetly as his features softened while referring to his daughter. “She’s sick.” He sighed, “She got sick last night and I’ve been taking care of her all morning, but she keeps throwing up and she’s got a fever of 101 that just won’t go away.” His rambling almost made you smile as you realized that he had never said so many words to you in one sentence, but you were too busy focusing on the little girl’s conditions to care about that. “You can leave. I’ll still pay you, don’t worry.”

Oh, there was no way you were going to leave him there when Ella was so sick. You shook your head and attempted at getting inside as you said, “Let me help.” But apparently JJ was so tired that he hadn’t understood your intentions, so he stayed there, your hand on his chest for you were trying to push him into the house. 

He only looked down at your hand, which made heat rush to your cheeks and the rest of your body in embarrassment. “You don’t have to, I’ve got this.” He coldly added, as if he wanted to prove something, but you weren’t aware of what. 

“I know,” you smiled softly, unknowingly causing his heartbeat to pick up, “I want to help you take care of her though, if that’s alright with you.”

For once, you had accomplished at stealing every word from his mouth. He only nodded, an unreadable expression adorning his features as he gave you enough space to enter his house. Ella was on the couch, her head on a pillow that they had stolen from her room, and the rest of her body was covered by a light pink blanket, which seemed to have eaten her whole for she looked even smaller than the usual. Her blond curls ran unruly, slightly covering her tightly closed eyes. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” You ran to her, completely ignoring the man beside you and focusing your attention on the sick girl. 

“Lottie?” Her tired eyes opened to stare at you, warm tears ready to spill from them.

You ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face, which made you realize how sweaty she had gotten. Finally, you looked at JJ again, whose curious eyes were trained on your figure. “Can you grab a wet cloth for me, please?” You asked as you went to lie next to Ella, placing her in your lap. “I’m going to try making this fever go down.”

He cleared his throat, for he had noticed how much it had started constricting at the sight of you taking care of his daughter. “You’re going to get sick if you sit with her.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you kept brushing Ella’s hair in order to make her relax. “It’s okay.”

“And what if I need you here and you can’t watch her because you got a fever?” He scoffed, trying to be mad at you because he had no other way to express what he was feeling.

You shook your head in disbelief; not only your job was to take care of his daughter, but he also had to hate you as you did so? 

“And what if I don’t get sick and your daughter feels better?” Then, staring into his icy blue eyes, you continued, “The glass is not always half-empty, Mr. Maybank.” 

Stricken, although impossible to detect, JJ stared at you for a second before he silently walked inside the kitchen to get the wet cloth that you had asked him to bring. He didn’t know how you were able to put him in his place and to let his guard fall to the ground each time, but there you were, ordering him around in his own house. It had taken him a long time to put up a façade that would’ve pushed everyone away – so how come it wasn’t working with you?

Once he had brought what you had asked for, he attentively watched as you took care of Ella, placing the cloth on her forehead and lulling her to sleep. 

“Why don’t you go rest or take a shower, Mr. Maybank?” you whispered to him, attempting at not disturbing the little girl in your arms, “I got her.” 

He shook his head and tried to sit next to you, “No, she’s sick and she needs me.”

The corners of your mouth lifted up for him, completely unaware of the effect that it’d had on his tired brain, “She needs to sleep and so do you. Don’t worry, I’ll come get you if she asks for you, is that alright?”

He hesitated, but then he agreed. “…Yeah.”

JJ couldn’t get through his head why someone who had no connection to his daughter would go out of their way to help both him and her. You were so polite and kind and loving and so damn beautiful, why did you had to end up in his house out of everyone? But then again, the thought of someone else having you in their house made a sick feeling come alive in his stomach — and he was sure it wasn’t Ella’s flu.

And with the knowledge of you taking care of his daughter, he fell asleep peacefully for hours. As your face was the only image on his mind, he hated himself for it. The moment his eyelids fell closed, you were all he was able to think about. You were plaguing his mind and all that he could do about it was burying his thoughts into the deepest, most secret parts of his brain and never say it out loud.

That was going to be easy, right?

—

He walked out of his room only to reach the bathroom, and his feet felt heavy and slow when he crashed against something — or better, someone. JJ lazily placed his hands on your shoulders to stabilize the both of you.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, tiredness still obvious in his tone.

“It’s okay, Mr. Maybank.”

He realized how close you were standing, how his hands were still touching you and the way you were looking up at him, as if you were waiting for something.

“Miss Jones,” he breathed as neither of you seemed to want to step away, “You should keep walking.”

Staring up at him, you leaned closer, a challenging look in your eyes. “Are you sure you want me to?”

JJ had no idea what was going on. Why were his lips so close to yours all of a sudden? And why wasn’t he doing anything to stop it?

“You’re Ella’s babysitter,” he rasped, “This can end really badly.”

Having no control on the situation, he let you step even closer and bend his head down until your mouth was next to his ear. “The glass is not always half-empty, Mr. Maybank.” You whispered before biting down on his earlobe.

—

JJ woke up in a cold sweat. He tried to regain his breath and make his thumping heart relax before he threw his head back on his pillow with a loud sigh.

Burying you in the hidden places of his brain wasn’t going to be easy at all. Not when you kept showing up in his dreams, being the main character of his darkest desires.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand to check on his texts, but the time showing on his screen made him all but jump out of his bed. How the hell did he end up sleeping through the whole afternoon?

Quickly, JJ stepped inside the living room, only to find it empty, both of the girls he was looking for nowhere to be found. Finally, he tried his daughter’s room. And for god’s sake, he wished he had never done that. There you were, sitting next to Ella, who was about to fall asleep, as you were reading from the book that was full of her favorite bed time stories. You carefully and gently brushed the hair out of her face with one hand while you held the book with the other, reading the words out loud with a soft voice.

JJ leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene in front of him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ruin the special moment, until Ella noticed him.

“Daddy?” She asked sleepily, slightly lifting her head off the pillow to look at him.

“Hey, sweetie,” he walked towards her, “How are you feeling?”

Yawning, she nuzzled further into her bedsheets and completely relaxed when her dad sat on the other side of the bed. “‘M better, daddy.”

You stared at him to smile, but he avoided your eyes immediately. Seriously? What the hell was his problem?

You couldn’t have known that he was unable to make eye contact with you after the dream he’d just had. His blood boiled with something he didn’t want to name every time his eyes fell on you, therefore he attempted at doing it as little times as possible. And yet, that was too hard as well, because taking his eyes off of you was just as impossible as it was stop thinking about you.

He bent his head down to kiss Ella’s forehead. “I’m so glad you feel better, sweetie.”

As he lifted back up, he let himself steal a glance at you, but your confused gaze was already on him.

“The fever’s gone,” you spoke up, “And the last time she threw up was hours ago. I think she’s going to be all good by tomorrow.”

He nodded in approval, then he left another kiss on his daughter’s forehead before whispering good night to her. Once she fell asleep, the two of you left the room in silence.

“Thank you for today,” he finally admitted, which immediately got your attention as he had never said those two words to you. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Although fighting against yourself, you decided to gift him one of your sweetest grins. “Of course. This is my job and I adore Ella. I would’ve never abandoned her today.”

JJ tried to swallow the lump in his throat at the mention of the word “abandon” alone, but it had seemed quite difficult, resulting in silence.

At the lack of response from him, you continued, “She’s such a sweet kid. You’ve done an amazing job with her.”

For a friction of a second, you swore he had smiled at your words, which had made your heart squeeze. “Thank you,” he added, and for the second time that evening.

“Woah, was that a smile and two thank you’s, Mr. Maybank?” You teased him, smirking, “Be careful, otherwise I might think you don’t hate me so much.”

The corners of his mouth turned into a frown, and he assumed the grumpy and cold look he would always wear around you once again. You were trying so hard to break down the ice that surrounded his heart, but nothing seemed to stop the cold from resurfacing every single time. Sometimes you started to wonder if you weren’t paranoid about him hating your guts and he actually disliked your presence.

Truth be told, JJ hated how much he didn’t hate you — not even a little bit. He loathed the fact that he had never not-hated someone as much as he didn’t hate you. But mostly, he couldn’t bear having you stand that close to him and being unable to do anything about it.

Awkwardly clearing your throat, you decided to break the silence. “I made dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

His eyes widened, and you weren’t even aware his face knew how to be expressive. He was speechless. “Why?” Was all he had mustered to get out.

You shrugged your shoulders as you walked into the living room. “I just wanted to help out a bit. You and Ella have had such a rough night, you deserved something home cooked. She ate really early, but there are still lots of leftovers in the microwave —“

“Eat with me.” JJ stopped your rambling, which had surely been caused by the silence that he had brought into the conversation.

This time it was your turn to gawk at him, dumbfounded. “Uhm, what?”

Placing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, he lifted his shoulders in nonchalance. “Eat with me. You’ve been taking care of us all day, and you cooked, so really it’s the least I can do.”

You shook your head, biting down on your bottom lip to stop your mouth from saying things that you would’ve probably regretted.

But damn it, wasn’t that driving him insane.

“C’mon, Miss Jones.” He was the one to tease then, smirking proudly at you, “Don’t make me beg.”

That man was an enigma you were never going to solve. One time he was cold, then he asked you to eat with him one second later; first he could barely look at you, then he was teasing and smirking. Cryptic and smug, that’s what he was. A man that was used to get his way whenever he wanted just because of his looks, and sexy accent, and penetrating eyes, and kindness and —

“As much as I’d love to see that, I’m stopping you right there.” You chuckled, “I’ll go set the table.”

And so, against all of your wildest fantasies, you spent the evening eating dinner with JJ Maybank — your boss, who apparently didn’t hate you as much as you had believed. You talked and laughed, and although it might have seemed impossible, he actually laughed with you!

Perhaps your boss didn’t dislike you that much. Perhaps he didn’t consider you his greatest enemy like you thought. Maybe you had imagined it all, you had probably blown it out of proportion and had made too much of a big deal about it — just like when, for only a second, Mr. Maybank seemed to feel the complete opposite of dislike for you as he stared at you for far too long when you giggled or talked about anything.

But then again, you were blowing things out of proportion, so it was better to ignore your instincts for a while, included the ones that told you to lean into him when he spoke.

You were in so much trouble.

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guilty as sin? (fic - part 1/2)

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | largely inspired by the bible

content warning: sexual content; mentions of parental abuse (physical abuse) | any questions for trigger warnings, feel free to inbox anonymously

word count: 14k.

blurb: when you, John B's half sister, return to Kildare after over two years of living in Colorado, your adolescent crush that you harboured for his best friend comes screaming back. Because you and JJ can't be together in real life, what's the harm in a fantasy?

“And this is your room.”

The syrup-coloured wood is the first thing your eyes meet when John B pushes open the bedroom door. There’s the vague lingering smell of teenage boy which he’s tried to air out, the window open ajar, and the clutter of his belongings has been moved to make space for your own. As you drop your duffel bag and step into the room, you take in the walls. There’s posters and prints stuck above his bed, dotted around on slats of wood separating windows: someone surfing; a rockstar smashing his guitar. An old skateboard deck is nailed into the wall alongside a license plate. The sheets are bright blue, the bed freshly made, and a clean towel is folded up at the foot. It’s well-lit with plenty of daylight flowing through the many windows. Homely and inviting.

“Is it, uh, alright?”

You turn to find John B leaning against the doorframe, hands in his short pockets. Smiling, you nod.

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “I’m honestly chill with crashing on the couch, though.”

It’s pretty obvious this was his room: you feel guilty kicking him out.

He shakes his head and gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “I moved into my dad’s room anyway. This has been the spare for a while.”

“Well, thanks,” you smile.

He nods, mirroring your content. “I’ll let you settle in and stuff. I moved all my crap out the closet so you can put your stuff in there, and the top bedside drawer is empty.”

“That’s perfect,” you say. You lift your bag with a grunt and dump it on the bed.

“I gotta go to work but call if you need anything. Shouldn’t be back too late.”

Unzipping your bag, you look to him. “Where’d you work?”

“Got this gig helping out at Ward Cameron’s. Don’t know if you remember him?”

“Course I do,” you snort. “The kingpin of Kildare, and your dad’s treasure hunting buddy.”

There’s a tense silence as your words catch up with you. You press your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Shit, sorry. That didn’t come out how I meant it to.”

“It’s cool,” John B says, graciously gliding past it. “Anyway, he pays pretty good so can’t complain. Mostly just handy-man odd jobs.”

“Very noble work,” you joke.

With a quiet laugh, John B nods and backs out the door. He lingers another moment, contemplating saying something else. “Look, uh, I know it isn’t ideal circumstances, you coming back to Kildare and stuff, but I’m glad you’re here. Really. It’s nice having you back, sis.”

Your mood sobers, smile turning solemn.

“Thanks,” you quietly reply.

He nods once more and pats the doorframe in farewell. “Right, I’ll let you get unpacked. See you later.”

“See ya.”

When John B leaves – the front door shuddering against the house as it slams shut – you’re overcome with quiet. In Colorado, where you lived with your mom in the city, there was little nature. You forgot how peaceful Kildare is. Through the crack in the window, birdsong and cricket chimes accompany the sound of your unpacking. You turf out your clothes and take to putting them in the closet. Shoes and bags and bikinis. A jacket and a few sweatshirts. It was easy enough to plan for your outfits considering you’re only staying the summer. You remember the weather in Kildare well enough from when you used to live here.

Once you’ve unpacked your clothes, you find your paints. A box of watercolours which have seen much use and love, the hinges rusted and the inside of the palette smeared with dried mixed paint. Turning to the bedside table, you pull open the bottom drawer on accident. You come face to face with corny porno magazines, a box of tissues, two wrapped condoms and a half empty bottle of painkillers.

“Gross,” you mutter, slamming it shut. Yep, this was definitely a dude’s bedroom.

The top drawer is empty, like John B promised. You fill it with your paints and sketchbooks and pencils.

As the day ploughs on, the room becomes increasingly saturated with your personality. Postcards from Colorado, of the towns and cities you visited, photographs from school of your friends and classmates: you scatter them along them wall, amongst John B’s. Some of your favourite paintings, alongside artists which inspire you, join the mix. On the desk you add a few of your own books to the haphazard stack of abandoned homework and school reports.

At the bottom of your duffle bag is your penny board. You look around the room, searching for empty space to slot it without adding to already cluttered surroundings, and opt to slot it under the bed. Ducking down, you come face to face with a collection of empty beer cans. Clearly the spring cleaning only went so far. It’s noisy as you drag them out, but you’re certain you hear someone shouting. Pausing, sitting back on your haunches, you turn to peer out the open bedroom door. It’s silent for a moment, and then you hear footsteps.

“Yo! JB, you home?”

It’s a guy shouting. His voice sounds vaguely familiar. When he comes into the corridor, he glances into Big John’s bedroom (now claimed by your older half-brother) first. Blonde messy hair and well-worn combat boots instantly name him. JJ.  He turns to the spare bedroom and stops short the moment his eyes land on you, sat amongst a pile of trash.

“You’re not John B,” he says.

“What gave me away?” you reply with a lift of your brows.

There’s a long awkward moment where he stares at you. You can practically hear the cogs turning as he takes you in. When you lift your arm up to scratch the back of your neck, realisation dawns upon him. You imagine your scar on the outside of your elbow gave you away.

“Holy crap! Little Routledge?” he gapes.

You laugh. “Haven’t been called that in a minute.”

JJ steps into the room and you get to your feet. He tackles you into a hug. It’s too short, too sudden, and then he’s stepping away from you again, leaving you dizzy on your feet.

“The fuck? You’re, like, grown now,” he says.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “well, I am sixteen.”

“The fuck!” he repeats. He then takes in where you’re standing, and the state of the room, and frowns. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Colorado with your mom?”

“I was,” you say. You kick one of the cans out the way and fold your arms over your chest, shrugging. “I came back for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s sick!”

You laugh. It’s a nice reaction to have from someone who you haven’t seen for over two years.

“John B gave you his old room then?”

He walks into it as if it’s his own. You watch as he studies the new additions to the wall that you’ve added. Lingers on one of your paintings.

"Yeah, he’s moved into his dad’s, apparently.”

“Yeah, he moved in there a while ago,” JJ tells you. “I’ve been sleeping in here most of the time.”

Your mind flashes back to the bedside drawer stocked with teenage boy necessities. Ah, makes sense. You remember how JJ was when you were a dorky thirteen-year-old. At the ripe age of fourteen, he had girls fawning after him. He was shameless in his reputation. The conversations you overheard between himself and John B as he’d brag about his escapades are seared into your memory, as you felt your wasted preteen heart splinter with every tale. It’s no surprise now that he’s probably just as unruly. Especially considering how he looks. There isn’t much time to ogle though because he’s looking away from the décor, meeting your gaze again.

“That explains all the empty beer cans, then,” you say.

He cringes. “Yeah, uh, sorry ‘bout that.”

You shrug. “It’s cool. I need to toss ‘em out but I don’t know where the trash bags are…”

“Oh, right,” he says, breezing past you. His cologne lingers in the air when he leaves. There’s the smallest moment for you to catch your breath as JJ bangs around in the kitchen, and then he reappears with a roll of black bags. Tosses them to you and you catch. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

You begin to shove the cans into the bag and JJ starts to help. His black button-up gapes open as he leans over and it takes everything not to glance down his shirt like some pervert.

“How come you didn’t want to stay in Colorado for the summer, then?”

“Change of scenery,” you vaguely reply. It isn’t a complete lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either.

“Well, you chose the best summer to come back. Our mission this year is to have the best summer of all time.”

“Pretty lofty goal to set,” you chuckle.

JJ glances up at you, flashing you a grin. “Nah, we got it in the bag.”

You find yourself smiling back, held captive under his stare. When he takes the now full trash bag off you, tying it off, you snap out of it.

“So, where’s your brother at then?” he asks, heading out the room. You follow.

“At work. Said he does jobs for Cameron now.”

“Oh, yeah. Cameron sorta took him under his wing after his dad…went missing,” JJ replies.

You have a feeling that the way people talk about John B’s father is rather doctored.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” you tell him, referring to Big John.

As you step on the porch, the sunlight warms your face. The floorboards creak as you make your way down them, to the garbage can outside.

“It was insane,” JJ says to you. He tosses the trash away. “I mean, we all knew Big John was a bit too into the whole royal-merchant thing but…we never thought it’d go that far, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Scary.”

JJ looks at you a moment longer. Then, he laughs to himself and shakes his head. “Can’t believe you’re sixteen now.”

“Can’t believe you’re seventeen.”

“What? I look good or something?”

He does a small spin on the spot, arms held out by his sides. You roll your eyes, acting as if you’re unaffected. It’s hard to swallow the reflex reaction of yes.

“Or something,” you say.

JJ takes it in stride. “Well, you look pretty cute yourself considering you’ve been in the mountains for the last three years.”

“I don’t live in the mountains,” you snort. The word ‘cute’ rattles around your head like a pinball.

“You’re taller now too. Practically come up to my shoulders. I remember when me and John B could pick you up by your ankle like a marlin.”

“Yeah, I remember that too,” you not-so-fondly recall.

JJ grins and steps over to you. Despite both of your growth spurts, you still have to look up at him, and him down at you. His eyes are just as dreamy as you remember them. When you first left for Colorado, you hardly had time to pack. In the midst of chaos, taking a picture of your brother’s best friend didn’t seem all that important. Cut to you spending endless nights trying to remember his eyes, the exact colour and the exact shape. Trying to remember the dimples that popped out when he smiled. The pure joy in his laugh. The way your heart felt like it might explode whenever he looked at you, even if it were for a second.

But when JJ pats your head, your chest deflates.

“Well, see you around, little Routledge,” he says, stepping away. “Tell your brother I was looking for him.”

Because even after all these years, you’re still just John B’s little sister in JJ’s eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

You stare into your can of cider. In the night, the only light being that from the bonfire John B started up in the backyard, you can’t make out the colour of it. Just the swirling of liquid. You’d spent the last three days working on a watercolour of the marsh side to John B’s house, but you couldn’t capture the movement of the water quite right.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Pope frowns.

“What’s there to be confused about, Pope?” JJ sighs, seemingly exhausted from the questions. There had been an influx of them the minute John B brought you out of the Chateau. “His mom shagged her dad and boom, here she is.”

“Charming mental images there, JJ, thanks,” John B cringes.

You laugh into your drink.

“No, I get that. But…You used to live here, right?” Pope asks you.

You nod.

“But then you moved to Colorado?”

“Yeah?”

“But now you’re back here?”

“Apparently,” you say.

Pope’s frown deepens: apparently that cleared nothing up for him. You’ve never known someone so analytical. “This is complicated,” he observes.

“No shit,” Kiara quips.

It was complicated. Families usually are. Your mom had split from John B’s dad when he was three years old. She ran off to Raleigh, in North Carolina, and met a guy pretty quick. That’s when you came into the picture, born almost a year behind John B. Their relationship was rocky, to say the least, and at some point your mom decided that it may be best for you to get to know your half-brother whilst her and your dad “figured things out”. What was meant to be a short stay at Big John’s house became a four-year affair. Then, at thirteen, your mom decided to flee the state, away from your dad, and she was taking you with her. It all came out of the blue. You weren’t exactly thrilled to go to Colorado. You liked Kildare, and North Carolina, and John B and his friends. Kiara was always nice to you. She never talked down to you, despite you being seen as John B’s little sister. You bonded over turtles and Bob Marley. JJ was different. He’d prank you with John B and tease you about your dolls, but he’d also patch you up if you fell and calm you down after a nightmare. Your crush on him evolved naturally over time. What started as childhood infatuation with the supposed delinquent of Kildare became real. You liked JJ. He was funny and rambunctious, but he had a kindness and tenderness that he kept hidden below. He was often at the house as his own family situation was far from perfect, so having him around became as familiar as John B’s presence. When you left, JJ gave you a hug that you wished would last a lifetime.

But you drifted away in Colorado. You didn’t have anybody’s phone number, save for Big John’s (which your mom refused to let you use), and you were too young to remember addresses to write to them. Social media was never something you latched onto and eventually it all faded away into a strange, dreamlike memory. Being back here is almost proof that you didn’t imagine the whole thing.

“We’re half siblings,” you say, whittling down your family history into a simple statement. “That’s all you really need to know.”

“Damn straight,” JJ whoops, downing the last of his drink. He crunches the can in his fist and heads to the cooler for another.

“You’re staying for the whole summer then?” Kiara asks.

You nod. “I’m tryna get a job at this restaurant in town to keep me busy.”

“Screw that. Just come smoke and surf with us all day, that’ll keep you occupied,” JJ grins.

He’s comfortable in himself, relaxing in a lawn chair, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. His t-shirt represents one of Kildare’s small-town establishments and his shorts are stained with dust and dirt from riding his bike.

“She’s the good one out of us lot,” John B announces, gesturing to you. “Out of all the Routledge offspring, she’s gonna go places. You’re not gonna taint that, JJ.”

“And by ‘all the Routledge offspring’ you mean yourself and her?” Pope checks.

John B nods fervently. “I’m telling you! She’s madly talented.”

“You’re drunk; it’s giving you beer goggles,” you dismiss, finishing your drink.

“You were always the creative one,” JJ remarks. Everyone looks over to him. “Me and John B would be out on the water and she’d be drawing it.”

“Maybe you can show us some of your stuff,” Kiara says.

You laugh and shake your head. “Maybe not.”

The alcohol wizzes up your body as you get to your feet and you take it as a good time to call it quits.

“I think I’m gonna head in.”

“What?”

“No!”

“Come on!”

You laugh, shaking off the group’s disputes. “I’m tired!”

“Lightweight,” JJ teases. You flip him off as you pass, ditching your empty can in the garbage as you go.

“Night guys!” you holler as you head back into the house.

“Night!”

The bedroom John B offered you is starting to feel less like a guest house. You shrug off your cardigan – it stinks of smoke from the fire – and close the door. Through the window, you can hear the group chattering.

Pope seems nice. He hadn’t been around when you lived in Kildare, but you recognised his name. Heyward was a legend on the Cut; you could see his dad in his eyes. Kiara was just as you remembered her, if not more consumed by her environmental activism than before. JJ was the most staggering change of all. He’d grown into his looks, matured around the face. Any puppy fat that you remembered from childhood had vanished. Lithe and lively, he was an American heartthrob, through and through.

As you do your skincare, you glance out the window. You can make out JJ, sat with his back to you. His arms are flailing around as he tells a story. You can’t make out the details through the window but the looks on everyone’s faces tells you it’s pretty damn entertaining. He was always the joker, humour hiding whatever was happening underneath like he was arming himself with a grin. The unexplained bruises on his face and the painful batterings on his body were never explained whenever he’d stay at Big John’s, when you were younger.

The moment he shifts in his seat, you dart away from the window, scared to get caught, and finish getting ready for bed.

A bad dream rouses you awake. It was about Colorado. The warped memories keep you from falling back asleep, no matter how hard you try. Sighing, you stare at the ceiling. The room is bathed in moonlight, cosy in the wooden interior, and you contemplate sitting outside for a bit. The same cardigan from earlier gets pulled on over your vest top and you slip into some crocs.

You head for the front door, creeping past John B’s room, and step onto the porch. There’s a warm, humid air in the night. The crickets and owls harmonise with the faint buzz of mosquitos who surround the porch light. That’s when you realise that it’s already on, and you’re not alone. JJ’s on the porch, laid out on the sofa. He’s smoking a joint. The smell of weed merges into that of the dying embers from the abandoned, extinguished bonfire. You rap gently on the wall as you approach, hoping not to startle him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up at the sound.

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“No,” you say. “I thought everyone went home.”

“They did. I’m crashing here tonight. My dad’s…”

He falters, glances up at you, and shakes his head.

“Don’t need to bore you with it.”

“You’re not boring,” you hear yourself tell him.

Smiling, JJ offers the joint to you. You take it, sitting down in the red armchair at the foot of the sofa. The weed consumes your senses when you take a drag, hitting the back of your throat and dulling your thoughts.

“Haven’t smoked in ages,” you say.

“Big smoking community out in Colorado?” JJ asks.

You laugh. “Not where I live, no.”

He takes the joint back when you lean over to him. Tilts his head back as he takes another hit. He’s in the same clothes as earlier, hasn’t even taken off his boots; his hair is tousled like he tried to sleep but couldn’t. You’re caught in the act of staring at him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make a joke. Instead, he holds your gaze. It’s almost like a silent challenge: who’ll break first?

“Can I say something kinda inappropriate?” he asks.

“I feel like you have to, now.”

JJ grins at that, amused. “You’re way cuter than I remember you.”

“Oh? You mean sweaty thirteen-year-old, chalk-highlight-pink-hair wasn’t cute?” you joke.

Shaking his head, he adds, “No. Well, yeah, but not in the way you are now.”

Your stomach tightens and heart constricts, and you wish you had the joint to have something to distract yourself with. You hope you sound calm and collected when you say, “thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” JJ jokes. He takes another long, deep drag. “Is it nice? Being back in Kildare?”

You glance off to the marsh. You forgot to check the time when you got up but judging from the endless navy blue of the sky, it’s still late.

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

You look back to him. “It’s better than Colorado.”

“So, you’re not missing home then?”

The blunt is passed back to you. Taking a drag, you ponder his question. “I don’t think I know where home is right now. I don’t think it’s Colorado, but I don’t know if it’s here either. Maybe I don’t have one.”

JJ doesn’t say anything and you remember yourself. Laughing self-deprecatingly, you shake your head.

“Sorry, think this joint’s going to my head. That was dramatic.”

“No, no, I get ya,” JJ assures. “I know what you mean.”

“You don’t like Kildare?” you ask him.

His expression darkens like a shadow has cast over him. “It depends.”

“Hm,” you say. Nothing more is said on the matter. You get the sense that JJ was vague on purpose.

Pulling your legs into your seat, you glance around at the clutter on the porch. A surfboard is lent against the nett lining of the porch; a rusting duck ornament balances on one of the beams. What looks to be a broken radio sits beside a half-full bottle of rum on a small table by the couch.

“I think it’s good for John B, having you back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” JJ smiles. “He sorta spun out when his dad disappeared. You’re kinda the only family he has left.”

“You’re his family too. Been around longer than I have,” you tell him.

JJ’s smile softens. He glances away from you, fiddling with the paper of the joint, almost as if he’s flustered. “Thanks.”

“So,” you say, “you got some poor girl on this island falling after you?”

“Rude of you to assume there’s only one,” JJ grins wickedly.

You roll your eyes.

“What about you? Some West Coast jock waiting for you back in the home state?”

The sarcastic ‘har har’ that he gets has JJ frowning, bemused.

“Definitely no guy, and definitely no jock.”

“Now that I find hard to believe,” JJ says.

Before you can ask what he means by that, or spiral out by thinking too much about it, JJ’s getting to his feet. He puts the blunt out on the window ledge, ditching the empty butt in a filthy dish. Stretching his arms over his head, sighing, you watch as his t-shirt rides up. The tensing of his abdominal muscles is like torture. God, to run your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, tangle them in the salt-soaked strands of his hair…

“Right, night Little Routledge,” JJ says.

You blink away from his chest and meet his gaze. There’s a strange expression on his face, one you don’t recognise, and you want to scrutinise it and find out what it means. But it’s gone in a flash, as is he as he heads back into the house. You watch through the window as his silhouette drops onto the pull-out sofa.

It takes a minute to regain your composure.

You can’t think of JJ like that. He certainly doesn’t think of you like that, and that childhood crush has long been put to bed. Shaking it awake is the last thing you need right now. Besides, he’s John B’s best friend. Your brother’s best friend. The same brother who’s taken you back into his house, offered you a room, free of charge, without complaint or question. And it seems like John B needs as many people around him as possible right now. But it’s hard to maintain that line of thought, when as you lie back down in your bed, desperate to get some sleep, you can vividly picture the slit of JJ’s chest that you were privy to just moments ago when you close your eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

You follow Tom through the restaurant. He’s the supervisor, eighteen and a fresh high school graduate. It’s hard to keep up with him as he points things out: waiter’s station; kitchen; storeroom…You’d forgotten how overwhelming job orientations can be.

“And this,” he pushes a door open, “is the staff room.”

You glance in and take in the messy pile of shoes, the overflowing trash can, and the three coat pegs overwhelmed with bags and hoodies.

“Love what you’ve done with the space.”

Tom laughs. He closes the door and leans against the doorframe. Broad shouldered, he stands taller than you by a couple inches.

“So, what made you want to work here?”

“I’m really interested in not being broke,” you reply, making him laugh.

“You new to the island? Feel like I haven’t seen you around?”

“This island that small?”

“Or you’re just that unforgettable,” he smoothly returns.

Your face fires up. Laughing nervously, you shift your stance. “I just moved in with my half-brother for the summer. Need something to keep me busy for a few months.”

“Ah, sweet. Anyone I’d know?”

“Dunno,” you say. He starts back into the main restaurant building. They haven’t opened yet. It’s void of life. “John B Routledge?”

“Oh shit, yeah. JB,” he says, flashing you a grin.

He’s charming in a disarming way. The kind of face that a modelling agency would swipe up because of his easy marketability.

When the two of you approach the bar, there’s a girl stood polishing wine glasses. She looks to be about your age, maybe a couple of years older. Her smile is sweet and welcoming like warm hot chocolate on a winter’s night.

“Hey, Lizzy. This is the new starter,” Tom introduces.

“I’m guessing I got the job then?” you ask him. He nods. With that, you offer a hand to Lizzy.

“Nice to meet ya,” she says, shaking it. “Could do with more girls around here.”

“Happy to help,” you reply.

“So, you think you can cover a shift tomorrow night? I figured cause you’ve waitressed before it shouldn’t take too long for you to learn the ropes here,” Tom says.

You nod. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says.

You bid farewell to himself and Lizzy, seeing yourself out the front door. The restaurant is in the heart of the cut, surrounded by other small businesses and hipster start-ups. You begin the journey home, plugging in your headphones and submerging yourself in Reggae music. Children play in the local park and preteens chatter as they speed past you on their bikes. There’s a warm breeze that brushes past you; it smells of sea water and fried fish. You’re passing the harbour. Eyes land on Heyward’s store, the logo just as you remember it from all those years ago. It’s surreal being back.

When your phone buzzes, you pause your sightseeing to check it. It might be John B asking after the interview. Your throat closes up when you see your mom’s contact pop up. A text. ‘Call me back.’

Just like that, you’re dragged out of Kildare and are back in Colorado.

It’s impossible to ignore the text, but you do your best either way. You don’t even remember half the journey to the Chateau as you walk through the door. JJ is home. He’s sat at the messy dining table, eating a bowl of cereal and scrolling through his phone. Tugging out your earbuds, you give a small wave hello.

“How’d the interview go? That was today, right?”

“Smashed it. Got the job,” you say.

“Oh, sweet. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

You ditch your bag by the door along with your phone. Taking the seat opposite him, you sit cross-legged on the wooden chair. The sketchbook you’d abandoned earlier lays dormant. Opening it up, you flick to your latest piece of the marsh. It’s coming together rather well. You’d decided to add the H.M.S Pogue, sat harboured on the grass. JJ peers over his bowl to the painting.

“Holy shit. That’s sick,” he says through his mouthful of Captain Crunch.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I’m pretty happy with how it’s come out, considering how old these paints are.”

JJ watches as you crack open the aforementioned watercolours. The smell of artificial paint teases the air. Dampening a thin brush in the mason jar of water, you dip into the blue.

“They bad quality or something?”

“A little. They best ones are Winsor and Newton, but I can’t justify spending over twenty bucks on paints.”

“Why not? You’ve clearly got a gift,” JJ says.

You hate how casual he is when he says things like that to you. Like it doesn’t knock the breath out of you like a sucker punch to the chest.

“S’just practice,” you mumble.

You can feel his gaze as you paint. Resting your chin in your hand, you work at the water under the jetty, trying to perfect the shading. You want to feel as though you can walk into the painting; like you could drown in the crystal clean waves.

Painting had become an escape when you were in Colorado. Whatever you could remember of Kildare, you’d paint. When that well ran dry, you began to paint places you wished you could go. Anywhere but the dilapidating family home you’d found yourself in. Secret gardens made of twisting ivy and crumbling, ornate statues hidden amongst orchids and rose bushes. Cosmic planes with make-believe ice cream stations snuck onto Mars and Venus; whales which bathed in the stars and caught a tan in moonbeams. Underwater societies full of sea kelp and multicoloured coral reefs, with octopi hiding amongst crabs and shellfish.

You glance up to find JJ transfixed on the painting. There’s a crease between his brows as if he’s the one concentrating. It makes you laugh, quiet and under breath, and he looks up. Holds your stare.

“That’s amazing, that you can just do that,” JJ says, remarking to your work.

You swallow the sickly rush that his words give you. His tongue dampens his lower lip, tantalisingly slow. You feel it hit somewhere deep inside of you. Something in the air shifts.

Then, so quiet neither of you can be sure he really said it, he utters, “you’re amazing.”

“Yo!”

The door swings open with your brother’s arrival. Your head spins over your shoulder to the front door. John B stands holding a bag of takeout burgers in the air beside his head.

“Y’all hungry?”

“Hell yeah,” JJ says.

When you look to him, it feels as if you could have imagined the whole interaction had just moments ago. JJ’s sat in his seat as he was before, unfazed.

He abandons his cereal and follows John B into the kitchen like a starving dog, begging for food. You place your paintbrush back into the water and join them. John B unpacks the burgers and fries onto half-clean plates. You watch JJ toss a fry into the air and catch it, whooping in celebration. A plate is handed back to you, over John B’s shoulder.

“Beef burger with cheese, no pickles.”

“Thank you,” you sing-song, taking the plate off him.

JJ turns around and looks at you with faux disgust. “No pickles?”

You shake your head, heading back to the table. JJ and John B join you with their own quick dinners, and the three of you eat. You tell John B about the summer job you secured, and he tells you and JJ about Sarah Cameron and her new boy-toy Topper. JJ says he’s “biceps without a brain” when you ask which one Topper is.

“That can’t be his real name,” you snort.

“Oh, it is,” John B replies.

“His name is almost as dumb as he is,” JJ sniggers.

There’s the sound of chewing and swallowing.

“Two official weeks into summer,” John B randomly announces.

You quirk a brow. “Two weeks since I came back to Kildare.”

JJ holds his cup of soda up in a toast. John B wipes his mouth and raises his own, as do you. The three of you clink cups, smiling at the stupidity. As you bring your cup to your lips to drink, you find your eyes meeting JJ’s across the table. He holds your gaze as he sips, swallows and licks his lips of the sugar. You feel it hit somewhere deep, deep inside of you. JJ looks back to John B and starts recounting his tales of the day fishing, leaving you stumped.

What the hell was that?

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As your days in Kildare stretch on, your imagination becomes your most loved and loathed place all at once.

The Pogues had taken you under their wing without a second thought. It felt as if it wasn’t just because you were John B’s younger sister. Kiara would spend hours talking to you about music and star signs. Pope would discuss books and artists that he’d read about, falling into a huge debate about whether Andy Warhol is as legendary as everyone makes him out to be (the answer is, of course, yes). You and John B connected as brother and sister, filling that hole of ‘family’ that had been taken from both of you within the past year. Movie nights sharing popcorn and critiquing corny horror films, and mornings spent tending to the yard and fishing at the jetty: you felt yourself coming back bit by bit, in the company of the brunette.

But spending time with the Pogues came with spending more time with JJ. That little childhood crush that you’d claimed had succumb a long, undisturbed slumber…Oh, she had been awoken. Him staying over more and more on the pull-out when him and his dad ‘got into a thing’ meant the throw pillows smelt like his cologne and soap. He’d offer you his sweatshirt when sat around the bonfire on evenings drinking, and the warm distinct smell of him would consume you, drown you in the pheromones, affecting you like some pathetic animal in heat. Days spent surfing and sunbathing at the break gave you space to shamelessly ogle his bare chest, splattered in sea water, scorched and tanned with sunlight. The ripple of his lats when wearing his useless muscle tees as he waxed his board in the surf shack. His jawline strong and steely when annoyed or focused, with faint blonde stubble a week after shaving. But you swear he knew how it affected you. Swear he knew it drove you crazy whenever he’d fleetingly touch your back, brushing past you in the kitchen to grab a drink, or adjust your grip when helping him fix up his bike. When sharing a blunt on the porch (as you often did when sleep couldn’t come), he’d take his time passing it to you, fingers brushing. Innocent, incidental touches that felt calculated and planned. The way his eyes would gaze into yours, like he could read your thoughts and decipher your wants. A vague, barely-there smirk to his lips, constantly tortured by his tongue and teeth…

God, your whole body feels as if it has been on fire for the past week.

You blame your overactive thoughts of JJ on your boredom. Working at the restaurant hadn’t been sufficient distraction from the mess that is your life right now. Even now, as you stand before the till, typing through an order for the kitchen and bar, you feel your mind wandering. To thoughts of the Chateau, and to a certain blonde-haired guy sprawled on the pull-out sofa, shirtless, back on proud display…

“You gonna be much longer?”

“No, I shouldn’t be,” you say to Tom.

You hope your embarrassment doesn’t read on your face. It’s not as if he could hear your thoughts, so you’re not sure why you feel caught in the act. You finish selecting the sides for table 16 and press ‘store table’. Stepping to the side to grab some side plates, Tom takes over the till.

He’s nice. Makes you laugh a lot at work, as you slander rude tables and gush over those that tip an extra twenty.

After depositing the side plates at the table, you head to the bar to run the drinks you put through. Lizzy is mixing the cocktail you ordered. She pours rum into a shaker and then passionfruit puree.

“Can I ask you something?” you say to her.

She glances over. The two of you had gotten closer at work. You were hoping to hang out with her one time down at the beach, or maybe grab lunch after a morning shift. She runs a hand over her buzzcut hair style and nods.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?”

“Bit deep to be asking that at eight o’clock at night, don’t you think?” she smirks.

You roll your eyes. As she goes on making the cocktail, you elaborate. “I have this dumbass crush on this guy which I know I shouldn’t have…I just feel bad for thinking about him so much.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” she snorts.

There’s the loud rattle of ice against stainless steel as Lizzy shakes the cocktail. Then, as she strains it into a martini glass, she looks up at you once more.    

“Who’s this guy? Do I know him?”

“Maybe.”

Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Is it Tom?”

And, no, it isn’t Tom, but maybe saying it is means she won’t keep digging. You’d rather keep your embarrassing years-long infatuation with your brother’s best friend close to the chest. So, you do your best to look meek as you nod.

“Holy shit! Well, if it makes you feel better, he’s totally into you,” Lizzy tells you.

“He is?”

“Hell yeah. Guy practically ogles you across the room,” she says.

You glance over to Tom. He’s stood before a table, talking away, scribbling down their order on a notepad. At the feeling of being watched, he looks up and meets your gaze. You flash him a small smile and he mirrors it quickly before returning his focus to the task at hand.

“So, do you?”

“Think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?” Lizzy checks. You nod. She ponders the question whilst garnishing the cocktail. “No. No, I think only actions talk. I mean, I think bad things all the time about customers who are dicks. I could put glass in their drinks: that’d show them sort of thing. But I don’t actually put glass in their drinks, so I’m off the hook. Nobody’s the wiser.”

It’s a somewhat extreme example but it gets the point across. You take the tray and nod.

“I mean, maybe fantasising about it might be cathartic. Get it out your system, you know?” Her sly wink speaks volumes as to what these ‘fantasies’ are about. You roll your eyes.

“Thank you for your advice, Lizz. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Anytime sunshine.”

With that, you walk over table 16 and deliver their drinks. The rest of the shift passes by rather quickly. You end up making a bet with Tom that you can sell more pints of larger than him and come up victorious, leaving work with an extra ten dollars in your pockets.

The streets are painted sunset purple, orange and pink. You spot John B’s campervan, known as The Twinkie, in the parking lot; he’d promised to pick you up after work tonight. But as you walk up to the passenger side, you realise it’s JJ behind the wheel. You’re not sure if the feeling of your organs shrinking is a good thing or a bad thing.

“Where’s John B?” you ask, climbing in beside him.

“Nice way to say, ‘hi JJ, it’s so good to see you!’”

“Okay, hi JJ,” you say, rolling your eyes. He starts the engine. “Now, where’s my brother?”

“He had to go do something for Cameron.”

“At ten at night?”

“Dude, I just work here, a’right? I do as he says so he lets me stay on his sofa,” JJ says. You laugh.

The radio kicks on and ‘Downtown Lights’ starts to play. You look out the window as he drives, watching the houses fade into overgrow and trees.

“Hey, you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“We can swing by a Wendy’s on the way home, if you wanna,” JJ says.

You smile as you look over to him, nodding. With that, he takes the next left and the two of you make your way in comfortable silence to the drive through. At the worker’s request, JJ recounts his order: two hamburgers, both with cheese, one without pickles. Oh and a large Pepsi.

As he pulls forward to pay, you say, “you remembered I don’t like pickles?”

He glances over to you like you’re stupid for even asking. “Course.”

Food secured, Pepsi in the cupholder for you both to share, you start the journey to the Chateau.

“Feed me a fry?”

You laugh and oblige. It’s the least you can do, considering he bought you takeout, after all. You turf one out the brown paper bag and hold up to his lips. His breath fans against your fingers as he takes it. Chews and swallows. You managed to tear your eyes away. That man could yawn and you’d be mesmerised, you swear. It’s pathetic.

“Thanks.”

“Course.”

The ride back is over way too soon. You take what’s left of your food and your bag, opening the door. “You staying over tonight?”

JJ contemplates a moment before shaking his head. He studies his hands as they run up and over the steering wheel when he says, “no. No, I gotta go home sometime.”

“Right,” you quietly say. The last fight him and his dad got in was ugly. He came over, shaking with anger, a purple bruise forming under his eye. It scared the shit out of you to let him go back there alone. “Well, thanks for the food.”

JJ looks up from the steering wheel and takes you in. His lips move, like he wants to say something, but he seems to abandon the thought. You take it as your cue to leave.

“See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon, Little Routledge.”

You hate that nickname. The resentment is thick to swallow as you say goodnight, stepping out the van.

John B isn’t home when you walk into the Chateau. The lights are off, dirty dishes piled up in the sink. The sofa bed is unmade from the last time JJ slept on it. You contemplate crashing on it for the night, just so you can feel as if you’re near to him, but you know that’s insane. If John B were to find you there, he’d only be concerned that something was wrong with your own room, either way. So you trundle back to your bedroom and strip out of your uniform. Makeup rinsed off and teeth brushed, you crawl into bed and drift off easily.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

His lips are hot and wet on your skin, kissing down your stomach. Your breathing’s laboured like you’re fighting an adrenaline rush. He seems to notice, laughing darkly against your tummy.

“So wound up already and I’ve barely touched you,” JJ croons in his southern drawl.

Your eyes slip shut, fighting back a whimper as his fingers dip teasingly into the waistband of your panties. A moan finally lets slip at the sensation of his lips pressing against your crotch, over the cotton.

“You want it?”

“Please,” you whisper.

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

“Yes, JJ, please.”

It’s embarrassing to beg but you don’t have much left in your mind other than thoughts of him to even care.

Fingers knotting into his hair, you try and coax him lower still. And he obliges. Drags your panties down your legs like time is a luxury. You wonder if he likes teasing you; if it brings him pleasure like the feeling of his hands on your body does for you. He leans back on his haunches and runs his palms up and down your thighs, staring at you exposed pussy. His shark tooth necklace sits against his toned chest and you’re jealous of how close it gets to be to him.

“Fuck,” JJ groans as you open your legs.

He leans back down and nuzzles your inner thigh, pressing a sharp kiss with his teeth, sucking in the skin and relishing your pleasured yelp. It feels as if he’s marking you as he leaves the hickey: mine.

“Been dreaming ‘bout this.”

Before you can let out another pathetic plea, JJ situates himself between your legs and goes down on you. Eats you out like a man who’s been lost at sea, like a man starved. Sighs at the taste of you on his tongue, kissing at your thighs as if to catch his breath, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. The damp of his tongue laps at your clit and your legs lock around him in a vice. He’s indefatigable, insatiable and…it’s too much.

“I can’t,” you whine hopelessly. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, eyes clenched shut.

“Come on,” JJ preens. “Wanna see you come.”

He leans close to your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth, and slips a finger into your seeping hole. Your orgasm comes like waves crashing over splintered rocks; breathing jagged and vision blurring behind eyelids. Somewhere in the euphoric haze you cry out his name. Flashes of colour blending into a mercurial high as he works you through your ecstasy, unrelenting.

You gasp awake.

Had you been sleeping?

Your forehead is damp with sweat, throat parched and chest heaving. Anyone would have thought you’d have just sprinted three miles. When you sit up in bed, you register the pulsing between your legs and the telltale stickiness of your thighs.

Shit. Good thing there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.

Wiping at your face, your skin feels red hot. You venture to the bathroom and drink water from the faucet. Making eye contact with yourself is too hard right now, considering you just had the most incredible wet dream about your brother’s best friend. Now that the high is passing, you’re overcome with shame and guilt. You’re delusional. Maybe you should submit yourself to be sectioned. Would be a good way to kill some of these summer weeks…

Heading back to bed feels like returning to the scene of a crime. Instead, you head out onto the porch, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and panties. John B’s a deep sleeper, you’ve come to learn. You’ve never heard him get up in the night, in all your moments of insomnia. There’s no risk of crossing paths with him out here.

Stepping out onto the paint-peeled floorboards, you notice he forgot to turn off the porch light when he came home. Great, I guess I know where my wage is going. But as you head to your favourite red armchair, ready to gaze out at the marsh and watch the waterside plants dance in the breeze, you freeze.

JJ’s on the sofa. And he’s awake. You can tell just from where you’re stood.

Before you can flee back to your room, the floorboard creaks. JJ jolts up and looks around, eyes landing on you. You swallow. The moment you lay eyes on him, part of your dream comes screaming back to you. The way your voice cracked as you cried out his name, tumbling over the edge. You quickly shun away the thoughts, slamming them closed in a box, before your body can lose itself to the fantasy once more. Please God tell me that I didn’t actually scream his name.

“Hi,” you dumbly say.

“Hey.”

“I thought you were staying at your place tonight,” you say.

JJ shrugs. “Change of plans, I guess.”

“Oh.”

He looks back ahead at the armchair, back to you, and you can’t help but pull a face akin to holy shit what the fuck do I do? When he holds up a joint, you decide to stay. Panties are just the same as a bikini anyway, and he’s seen you in those. You make sure to wear your cutest ones when he’s surfing with you. The ones that are tight in all the right places and hug your figure in a way that you wished he would. Oh my God, shut up. You wordlessly take the joint as you quickly step past him, planting yourself in the armchair. You pull your legs up and sit atop of them, taking a long drag to try and calm your racing mind and heart. Inspecting the floor seems a good thing to do, suddenly. The divots in the wood from worms and the strips of paint. Looking up, you find JJ’s eyes trained on your legs. His gaze diverts when you lean forward, offering him the blunt again. As he lifts himself to take it, you see him wince, and now in the light of the porch, fully taking him in you, you can make out the bloody cut beside his eye.

“Jesus Christ, JayJ.”

“It’s fine,” he reflexively says. He takes another hit. “Just need some self-medication.”

“Bullshit. You need to clean that thing ‘fore it gets infected.”

“Be my guest,” JJ scoffs.

With that, you get to your feet and head back into the house. The first aid kit is under the bathroom sink. It’s probably the least dusty thing in the whole room. Returning to him, you forget all about the reason that you got up in the first place and shove it to the back of your mind. This was more important than worrying about some dumb dream. Shoving his legs off the couch, you force him to make space for you. You place the first aid kit on your lap and open it. JJ keeps smoking. The smell of weed clouds your senses. Picking out a disinfectant wipe, you turn to him.

“This’ll sting,” you say, opening the packet.

“That’s what she said.”

You frown. “What kind of kinky ass sex are you having?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he grins.

For a moment dread drops down your body, chilling your spine. Did he hear you? No, no he couldn’t have. You probably didn’t make a noise. He’s just being his usual, salacious self.

You take his jawline in hold gently between your fingers. The bone is hard beneath the soft of his skin; fine stubble scratches your fingertips. Leaning up, you try not to get distracted in his eyes as you dab at the cut. You apologise as he hisses. It doesn’t look as intimidating when clean of blood, which is more than a relief. You dip back into the first aid kit and offer up two band aids. One is plain nude and the other Hello Kitty.

“Take your pick.”

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and grabs the Hello Kitty one, holding it out to you. You shift onto your knees, bending over him to plant it over his cut. You notice a bruise forming on his cheek bone on the other side, and a cut lip. You should have insisted he stayed over when he dropped you off. He looks up, as if he can hear your thoughts, and meets your gaze. You can’t seem to find it in yourself to move away.

“It’s not your fault,” he quietly says.

You swallow. It’s scary how easy he can read you. Makes you worry what other thoughts he can tell from your face. “Wished you just stayed here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hate the thought of you going back to that house.”

“That’s sweet,” he smiles. “But if I didn’t go, I wouldn’t have you here taking care of me.”

“Oh, was it all part of your masterplan?” you joke, finding your smile again. His seems to grow at the sight.

“Something like that.”

When his lips press to yours, you’re taken aback. It feels like fire, searing hot, and you flinch like you’ve been burnt. You gape at him, wide eyed, and it seems to register what he’s just done. You both move to put as much space between you as possible, as if trying to keep the blaze from spreading.

“Shit, I—”

“I should go back to bed,” you hurry out.

JJ nods. “Yeah, yeah. Course.”

In your scramble to get back to your feet and back in your room, the first aid kit falls to the floor, the contents spilling out. You cuss and drop to your knees, rushing to retrieve all the clutter. JJ joins you, passing you gloves and bandages. You find some nerve to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says. The sincerity in his voice…It’s painful.

“It’s okay. I don’t…It isn’t…”

You sigh. Your speech is just as messed as your mind. Closing your eyes, gathering your words, you take a deep breath. Looking back to JJ, you shake your head.

“We can’t.”

“I know,” he replies, almost sadly. Nods once more. “Yeah, I know. I’m just…high. And tired.”

“Right. Course.”

And whilst his excuses should sting, they don’t, because you don’t believe them. JJ smokes enough weed to not be affected all that much by half a joint. But you don’t argue. Instead, you close the box and go to head inside. You stop in the doorway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say.

You spare him one last glance. He’s on the floor, head hung and back to you, and you consider staying. But you don’t. You go straight to bed, acting as if a fresh start tomorrow will reset the entire thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the morning, JJ’s gone. John B doesn’t seem to have even realised he’d stayed over. You find your older brother in the kitchen, washing up the dirty dishes. Swiping up a towel, you come to help.

“Hey. Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “You?”

“Like a rock,” he grins. “You still up for that keggar tonight, at the boneyard?”

“Oh shit, that’s tonight?”

“Yeah. All the others are going,” John B says.

“Yeah, I’ll go. I think I’m catching a ride with Lizzy from work.”

“Alright. Just stay safe.”

“I will,” you drawl. He smiles at you before turning back to the washing up. “Hey, John B?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For letting me stay here.”

“Yeah, course,” he says. He pauses his handy work, turning his attention to you. “You’ve always got a bed to crash on here, even if child services are up my ass.”

“I appreciate it. I really needed to get out of Colorado.”

The seven missed calls from your mom slip into your mind. Her texts go unanswered, but she knows you read them. You don’t want her to think you’re in danger. Talking to her is just too much right now.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I needed you back too,” he says. “Things have been kinda messy since my dad…disappeared. I don’t know what I’d do if I was on my own.”

“You’re never gonna be on your own, though,” you smile. “The Pogues would do anything for you. It’s actually kinda scary.”

John B laughs at that. “Yeah, yeah, they’re, uh, not the smartest.”

“Apart from Pope,” you point out. He nods, smiling as he looks back to the soapy water.

“Yeah, apart from Pope.”

“JJ cares about you a lot,” you feel the need to add. His voice last night, apology ready, after your kiss, echoes in your mind.

“I know. I feel like you two are the best things in my life right now,” John B admits. The guilt multiples by tenfold with that. You fix your face when he looks to you. “So, thanks.”

“No worries, big bro,” you reply, nudging his shoulder with yours.

He laughs. “Thanks, little sis.”

With that, you both continue cleaning the pots. The shame from last night gets shoved down into the deepest, darkest pit of your stomach, and you try to go about your day without sparing another thought to JJ.

On the way to the keggar, Lizzy grills you about your ‘crush’ on Tom. “He’s gonna be there tonight, I think.”

“Oh, really?” you say. You know you don’t sound enthused. It’s too much effort to pretend.

“Everything good?” she frowns, glancing away from the road.

You nod and plaster on a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just tired, I think.”

“Couple drinks in you and you’ll be wide awake, I promise,” she assures.

Nodding, you shift in your seat and look out the window. Your skirt rides up in the processes. It’s a little short but it’s so ridiculously hot tonight, you can’t seem to care. A crotchet style crop-top dresses down the outfit. You don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard for a beachside keggar. As you pull up closer to the boneyard, cars line the roads. Lizzy finds a spot and parks. You grab the crate of Budlight and her the box of White Claw, and you hop out the car towards the beach. Her stories about work and school have brightened your mood.

She’s tall and remarkably cool in a way that you never will be. She has stick and poke tattoos on her knees and elbows, and nine piercings on one ear. Her nose ring and snake bite piercings are far from intimidating on her cherub like features. The buzzcut has been dyed neon blue, standing bright against her dark skin. As you pass groups of teens, she shouts hello to those she recognises and shares the odd bro-hug.

You add your drinks to the pile of booze before grabbing a can, cracking it open. A quick scan of the scene tells you that the Pogues are still pre-drinking at the Chateau. You’d managed to dodge JJ so far.

“This is a pretty decent turn out,” Lizzy tells you, swigging from her can.

“Know a lot of people here?”

“Sure,” she says. She points to a gaggle of polo-shirt wearing pretty boys who look like they could snap you with one finger. “Those are the gym rat kooks. That tall blonde Topper is with the princess of Figure Eight, Sarah Cameron.”

JJ was right: biceps without a brain. You watch as he shotguns a drink and cracks the can on his forehead. Sarah Cameron, blonde hair straight flowing down her back, does not look impressed.

“And her brother Rafe. That guy’s all kinds of whacked out,” Lizzy mutters. You follow her finger to spot a tall, short haired guy. He looks unapproachable, even from far away.

“Yo Lizzy!”

You both turn to find a crowd of girls and guys. One of them is waving at Lizzy and she waves back.

“Come on, I know these guys. They’re cool,” she tells you, taking your hand and guiding you over.

You’re introduced to everyone and soon enough are roped into beer pong and shots. It’s fun though. Everyone’s having a laugh, cheering each other on. You hear about some good spots to grab food and learn Michael, Lizzy’s closest friend, can drink you under the table. A few hours in and there’s a comfortable buzz to your bones. You haven’t thought about the Pogues, or JJ, or the fleeting kiss all night. As you laugh along to one of Michael’s soccer stories, someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to come face to face with Tom.

“Hey,” you smile, squiffy.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Yeah, I came with Lizzy.”

“Hey, Tom,” she smiles before sending you a more than suggestive look. Oh, shit. The lie. “Hey, why don’t you go get my girl a top up?”

Before you can contest, she’s taking your half full can out of your hand and coaxing you away with an assuring smile. Tom takes it in stride and walks with you to the coolers. He grabs two cans of beer, passing one to you, and you cheers him.

“How you finding Kildare?”

“Good.”

“Yeah? You been hanging with John B’s crowd, right?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” you smile, nodding. He makes a face before taking a drink. You frown. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. They’re just kinda…well, I mean, some people think they’re bad news.”

“Some people, huh?” you say cautiously.

“Just reputations and all that. Like that JJ guy. He’s got slippery fingers, if you know what I mean,” Tom says, wiggling his own in demonstration.

Suddenly this conversation is very unappealing. You glance off to Lizzy and the others. “I should probably get back to them. Thanks for the drink, though.”

“No, hey, no,” Tom says. He grabs you by the wrist. “Come on, I was being a dick. I’ve had one too many. Let’s just hang, alright? I really wanna get to know you.”

You look between him and Lizzy and sigh. Taking a swig, you shrug. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tick you off.”

“I like the Pogues. They’re a good group,” you feel the need to defend.

“No, yeah, they are!” Tom agrees. You can smell the stench of liquor on his breath. “I just don’t want you to get corrupted by them.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just, you’re new here—”

“And so I’m clueless on how to judge people?” you finish sardonically.

Tom rolls his eyes and it makes your anger tick. “Come on, you don’t gotta be a bitch about this.”

“What did you just call me? You know what? Forget it,” you scoff, snatching your arm away from his hold. “Have fun drinking on your own.”

But you don’t get very far before he’s grabbing at you again. “Calm down, would you? Just gimme—”

“Let go!” you demand.

His grip only tightens. The strong front you’re putting on begins to crumble under the panic of this guy is way bigger than me.

“Just quit bitching and we can talk,” he says harshly.

“I don’t want to talk. Now please let go of me,” you firmly return.

He doesn’t let go. Keeps chattering away, insisting that you have to hear him out.

“Let go, Tom!”

“Everything good here?”

Your wide eyes look away from Tom and land on JJ, and your whole body relaxes. He’s looking at you and the panic must read clear on your face because his demeanour changes in a split second. Jaw tight, he turns to Tom.

“I think you should let go, man.”

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” Tom scoffs.

JJ takes another step towards him. He towers over Tom by enough to be intimidating. “Think you should listen to her.”

“Oh, I get it,” Tom snarls. He lets go of you and you can feel your skin breathing. You rub at the pink marks, easing the sting. Tom gets into JJ’s face, undeterred from a fight. “You wanna keep John B’s sloppy sister for yourself, huh?”

JJ’s fist flies at Tom’s face, making an ugly, visceral sound as it lands on his left cheek. You gasp. Nearly knocked off balance, Tom stumbles on the sand. The commotion has drawn in somewhat of a crowd. Before you can intervene, Tom’s throwing hands. He aims an upper cut to JJ’s jaw but he’s quick to dodge, landing his own punch instead by Tom’s eyebrow. That one seems to deter him. He trips backwards. The chanting of the crowds egging it on makes you feel sick. You’d just finished patching JJ up last night, and you’ve seen his anger before. It takes control quickly and blinds him to reason. The last thing he needs is to wind up in a cell. So, before he can land another hit, you’re stepping forward and grabbing at his arm, stopping him.

“Come on, let’s just go,” you say pleadingly.

His chest is heaving with anger, breathing short and jaw heavy set and tense. He hesitates, looking between yourself and Tom. He’s still cradling his last hit, trying to regain his composure. Sighing, JJ lets you lead him away. Tom’s heckling is laced with slurs directed at you, and you have to keep a steady grip on JJ to keep him from going back.

“He’s not worth it, JayJ,” you mutter.

“You’re so wrong,” JJ darkly returns, but he doesn’t go back.

Away from the beach, back on the road, you let go. He paces for a moment, trying to calm himself. Tugs off his cap and rakes his fingers through his hair, breathing deep and slow. You don’t speak: just let him go through the motions. Babying him through this isn’t going to help anyone.

Whilst violence isn’t the answer to anything, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t grateful for JJ’s help.

Letting him cool off, you take a seat on one of the fallen tree trunks.

“Hey.”

Looking up, JJ walks over. He’s mostly back to himself.

“You okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No. Just freaked me out a bit. He’s not usually like that. He’s just drunk.”

“Like that’s an excuse,” JJ scoffs. He takes the spot next to you, sitting worryingly close.

The culmination of last night and tonight makes your head spin. The effects of the alcohol vanished the moment Tom took a hold of you. Now you just want to forget the whole thing.

“Wanna get out of here?” JJ asks.

You turn your head to face him and smile smally, nodding.

“Come on. I brought my bike.”

His red bike is parked beside the Twinkie. He climbs on first and offers a hand to help you onto the back. Your arms slot around his middle, circling around his taught chest, pressing yourself against him. Face resting on the middle of his back, you try not to inhale the smell of him. It might be too much for tonight. His calloused hands on yours have you shifting your hold, ensuring your tight against him like a backpack.

“Good?”

“Good,” you quietly reply.

He kicks off the stand and starts up the engine. You pull away from the keggar and up the road, zipping down the isolated streets. There’s nobody around at this time. Not a soul in sight. It feels so right, wrapped up against him like this, safe in his presence. Tom was wrong: JJ wasn’t bad news. Sure, he was a klepto, but he was the same guy who learnt how to sew to fix your favourite pair of shorts when you were little. The same guy who stepped up when some dirtbag was harassing you. The same guy who remembered you don’t like pickles on your burgers. Who looked at your paintings as if they were Picasso.

Somewhere along the ride, one of JJ’s hands comes to rest on your own. You don’t ask why and don’t pull away. Just let the reassuring weight of his hand on yours stay there and ground you to him like an anchor. Here, flying through the night, you can pretend like all the other shit doesn’t matter. It’s just you and him.

He starts onto a dirt track, slowing down, and a house emerges. Pastel yellow painted exterior hidden behind porch netting. There’s clutter of engines and fishing gear amongst surfing supplies. He pulls to a stop and kicks on the stand, turning off the engine. It’s quiet now, without its rumble. “Your dad home?” you can’t help but ask, staring at the front door.

JJ shakes his head. “No. He’s out on Friday nights. Kinda the only routine he has.”

You don’t ask where and he doesn’t expand. You step off the bike and watch as he clambers off too. Fixing your skirt, you wait for him to talk. He doesn’t. “I should probably head back,” you say. You’re not entirely sure why you came to his place instead. You’d assumed when you got on the bike that he’d take you back the Chateau.

“I mean, we can share a joint first if you want. Help you calm down and stuff, after that shitshow,” JJ half-chuckles.

There’s something heavy in the humid air. It’s hard to describe, hard to place, but you can feel it like static electricity. You find yourself nodding. He nods too and starts up to the house, hands in his black short pockets. You watch his feet sink into the grass and guide your eyes up his figure. His shoulders are tense, dressed under a thin t-shirt. He ditches his cap on the kitchen counter when you walk through the door. Through the house, past the neglection, and to his bedroom. He flicks on the light and clears his throat as he goes to his desk drawer.

You stand, leaning against his door until it clicks closed, and look around his room. There’s a world map pinned to the wall but no markings on it asides from one: Kildare, North Carolina. Print outs of palm trees and pressed, framed butterflies and leaves seem less innocent when placed between posters of models on the beach. The floor is a mess of dirty clothes and empty beer cans. Several dead vapes litter near the overflowing bin, and cigarette and joint buds scatter the windowsill and beside table. But the smell of JJ hangs strong in the air; it makes you smile to yourself.

“Alright,” JJ sighs. The desk drawer slams closed and he turns around, holding up a fresh joint and lighter. His initials are scratched into the metal: JJ. He sits on the bed and places the blunt between his lips, flicking at his lighter. You watch him take a drag and take it off him when he offers it over.

No words are shared as you pass the bud for several minutes. You both glance around the room, at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but each other.

“How’s your face?”

“Huh?” he asks, finally meeting your eyes.

You nod to his cheek. “Your cut from the other night?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbles. He lifts a finger and strokes it absentmindedly. “It’s alright.”

“Good.”

JJ hands you the joint again, you take a drag, you pass it back to him. That same feeling from earlier, when you first climbed off the bike, has only amplified.

“So…”

You brave clearing the distance between you. You take the spot next to him on the bed.

“We gonna talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” JJ deflects, studying the floor.

“Well, you kissed me,” you eventually reply, taking the joint back. “So, there’s that.”

“I already told you,” he sighs. “I was tired and doped up.”

When you say nothing, he looks up at you. "What? You think I'm lying?"

You take a drag. Shrugging, you honestly reply, “yeah, a little.”

He holds your gaze as if challenging you to back down. You don’t. Beating around the bush won’t help anything here, and its obvious you can’t go back to acting like it didn’t happen. You can’t move past it until you know why he did.

“S’just weird,” JJ mutters, looking away. “What happened last night, with me and you. S’just weird.”

“Yeah, it was weird for me too,” you agree. Swallowing, you take another hit. “But not bad weird, right?”

JJ’s head lifts once more. His eyes flash across your face like he’s searching for some kind of trap. He sucks his teeth in contemplation. “No. Not bad weird.”

Your heart stutters, breathing shaky and unsure. You feel your eyes dart down to his strawberry pink lips, and his to yours. But then he’s shaking his head. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know…” you breathe. You’re transfixed on his lips. Can’t move away, can’t bring yourself too. The blunt in your fingers is burning away, ash dropping to the floor, but you don’t care. All of it, everything but JJ, is white noise.

The moment you flit your eyes up to his, something shifts in him. His jaw ticks as he clenches it. Your brows pull in thought but there’s no time for you to ask.

“Fuck it.”

His lips are on yours within a breadth. He consumes your senses like a drug, dulling down anything else until all your thoughts are on him. He grabs for the blunt in your fingers, haphazardly putting it on the bedside table, and then his hands are sliding up along your sides, up your back, into your hair. One finds purchase on your cheek, and you rest your jaw in his hold like a bird settled in its favourite branch. The way he holds you like you’re something holy is different to how sinful his kiss is. It’s pure passion: raw, animalistic heat from weeks of build-up. And, God, it feels so right. The way his tongue brushes against yours, warm in your mouth, heavy in your head. The nip of his teeth on your lips and the fanning of his breath when he has to break for air. You’ve never been kissed like this before, not by anyone. It’s dizzying.

Until it isn’t, and he’s pulling away. His forehead rests against your own. You’re both panting. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.

You slide a hand up his neck, tracing his jawline with your fingers. He practically melts under your touch, eyes slipping shut. “I know,” you whisper distractedly. Your thumb traces his lower lip. It’s swollen from your kisses.

He blinks his eyes open. “I’m serious. He can’t know.”

“He won’t,” you say, going to reconnect your lips.

But JJ stops you. “No, he can’t. He’d…God, he just can’t.”

You want to cry, seeing the moral dilemma weigh on JJ, feeling you share the burden. But the thought of walking away from this, of not feeling every inch of him, of never hearing him fall apart, makes you want to sob.

“Maybe just one time,” you murmur. Your finger traces down his chin, along the centre of his neck. “And we can just get it out of our system.”

“Yeah,” JJ mumbles. “Yeah, one time.”

“Yeah?”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are dilated, heavy with lust, and you feel your body ignite. “Touch me, please.”

With that simple mark of consent, JJ’s unchained. He doesn’t hold back when your lips reconnect. Somehow it becomes deeper, rougher, better. It’s such a strange oxymoron, the way he touches you and kisses you. You pull away to remove your crop top, and he takes the moment to strip off his shirt. The two of you are shameless as you take in the other. Reaching out a hand, you run your fingers up his chest in the way that you’ve imagined so many times before. It’s funny how in your head, you’ve already done it. His eyes dip down, watching your hands explore. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his left pectoral, then his right. Sighing, his chest drops up and down with uneven breathes.

“So pretty,” you say through your kisses.

His fingers tether into your hair. There’s a slight tug that sends ripples of pleasure through your body in ways that it shouldn’t as he pulls you away, guiding your lips back to him. As he crawls atop of you, you inch up the bed, skirt riding up. You settle on our back. JJ’s greedy in his touch. Strokes your skin, explores your body, like it’s his own. And in a way it is because you’d give him anything if he asked. When his fingers slip behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, you lift yourself onto your elbows. He holds your gaze as he unfastens it, guiding it off your shoulders, helping it off your arms.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

A smile teases at your lips. It takes a certain type of guy to make you blush at the sound of his curses. Your head rocks back, eyes sinking closed, as his lips latch around your nipple. A hand palms at the skin, teasing your breast, exploring your reactions. You sigh out your pleasure, bringing a hand up to mess with his hair. It’s better than you imagined. Tops every fantasy, every wet dream, every sinful thought. And it’s only just begun.

“So fucking sexy,” JJ groans, kissing up your body until he finds your lips.

You don’t want him away from you. He looms over you, encasing you in the safe, consuming feeling of his presence, trapping you in the smell of his cologne and soap that you’ve tried so desperately to avoid. Through the kisses and love bites marked into necks and collarbones, you feel one of his hands ghost the outline of your figure. Traces down so slowly like you might not even notice. Down, down, to your panties. It’s there that he sweeps over your cotton covered mound. You sigh against his lips in anticipation.

“I know you’ve been thinking ‘bout this,” JJ says.

His voice is just as you pictured it: deep and crooning, his Southern accent at forefront. You want to bottle it like brandy and drink it until you black out. His lips work down your neck as he lightly circles your clit over your panties and you can’t stop your moan.

“I heard you, the other night.” Your eyes shoot open. JJ meets your gaze. He’s dying, the desperation clear as day on his face. His eyes themselves could send him straight to hell. There’s the shadow of a smirk.

“Were you thinking of me, whilst you were getting off?”

You go to push him away. The last thing you need is for him to tease you about it and make fun. But he doesn’t let you. Instead, he kisses just below your ear.

“Cause I think about you. Every night since you’ve been back. Can’t jack off to anything else,” he confesses into the crux of your ear. Your only reply is a small, surprised gasp. Your body’s ablaze with his words.

His fingers finally dip below your panties, sliding between your soaking folds. He groans at the sensation and you feel your legs give way. He works at you for a while, toying with you like it’s a side hobby. You’re only half aware of the sounds you make. One of your hands has situated itself on his upper back, nails scratching at the skin. JJ can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. It’s one blasphemy after another, and it drives you deeper and deeper into the abyss. He seems to become impatient. He removes fingers to push your underwear down. You kick them off at the ankles with a small giggle.

The moment his finger sinks into you, you swear you’ve seen heaven. JJ worships you, taking his time to inch you closer and closer to the edge. Another finger, then another. The stretch is heaven. Your back arches off the bed, mouth agape, brain dumb with pleasure. He won’t be quiet. He whispers praises into your ear. Narrates his own fantasies he’s harboured about you. Know you’ve been teasing me with those tiny bikinis. I wish I fucked you on the porch the other night. The moment his thumb swipes over your clit, you know you’re close. And then he’s bending his fingers just slightly, hitting that spot. You abandon all religion: this is the only type of prayer you need.

JJ has the audacity to laugh as you climax. You grasp uselessly at his body, the bedsheets, anything. You use a shaky hand to push his fingers away, overstimulated, and he finally relents. Starts kissing at your neck like a Goddamn vampire.

“That good, huh?”

You can’t really formulate words. You just drag his face to yours, kissing him senseless. When you inevitably part for breath, JJ leans back. He pinches your chin between two fingers, gnawing at his lower lip, and parts your lips for him. Your body pulses at the submissiveness he’s placed you under. Then his used fingers are slipped into your mouth. You close your lips around them, holding his gaze as you suck them clean. The salty distinct taste is unfamiliar but not necessarily unpleasant. He gives a small laugh, like he’s in disbelief.

“Fuck. Why did we wait so long to do this?”

You pull his hand free, taking grip on his shoulders. Pushing him against his bedroom wall, you move to straddle him. His hands fall onto your hips. Somewhere in your heady make-out, you rock yourself back on him. JJ groans; his head knocks back against the wall. He’s rock hard. It must be torture. You shuffle off him to make room to pull his shorts off. They join the mess of clothes on the floor. The tip leaks precum, straining painfully. You go to jack him off but JJ stops you.

“I won’t last,” he admits, half-embarrassed.

You nod, biting back your smile. “You got protection?”

“Top drawer,” he says, nodding to the bedside table.

You lean over and dig about before finding a condom. You come back, tear it open, and gently slide it over him. He lets out a shuddering breath at your touch, eyes clenched shut in concentration. It makes you feel slightly guilty for letting him indulge you for so long, but this will pay it back.

Straddling him once more, you steady yourself with one hand on either shoulder. His find home on your hips once more, and he helps you line up. Then you slowly sink down onto him. The stretch stings despite the earlier efforts. Head hanging forward, mouth falling open in silent moans, eyes clenching shut, you take him in. JJ’s mumbling praises, eyes transfixed on where you connect, spurring you on. Taking me so good. Jus’little more. You rock against him, using whatever energy you have to ride him. He helps guide you, head resting against the wall. You love that he isn’t quiet. Love that you’re on top and can see every ripple of pleasure course through him, reflect on his face. But when his eyes slip shut, you take a hand and guide his face to yours. Pressing your forehead against him, you lean forward and steady yourself with a hand on his chest. The new angle is euphoric. You moan and whine against his lips, eyes staring into his own. It’s the most hideously lewd symphony as the two of you chase your highs. There’s only one thought in your mind. And when JJ comes unannounced, shuddering as he finishes, never looking away from your eyes, only one thought is in your mind.

If it can only happen this once, it has to be perfect...

to be continued (part 2 will be released later this week)

Unexpected 3

Pairing: Rafe Cameron X Reader

Summary: If someone had told you exactly what was going to happen when you left the boneyard with Rafe you never would have believed them.

Chapter Warning: JJ is kind of a douche, Angst, fluff, smut

Not beta read we die like men

WC: 2,062

OBX Masterlist - Series Masterlist

Finishing off your night eating pizza while sitting on Rafe’s kitchen counter in Tannyhill was not how you expected to end your night, but here you are. After Rafe found you at the boneyard all alone, he drove you back to Tannyhill so he could give you back your skateboard that he had left in his bedroom. As you followed him into the giant house, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. Everything was so extravagant that you were afraid if you moved wrong, you would ruin something you would never be able to afford to pay his family back for. Rafe, seemingly able to sense your feelings, smiled at you. “Relax, Sunshine. I know it’s a lot to get used to, but I promise you, even if you set something on fire in the living room, no one would notice. Besides, my family is out of town with Wheezie right now.” You felt some of the tension leave your shoulders as he caused you to laugh, and he continued to lead you through the house to the kitchen. Rafe opened the fridge and pulled out a soda for you and a beer for himself before asking you what kind of pizza you wanted. Once Rafe placed your order, you and him fell into an easy conversation. 

Once the pizza was delivered, you found yourself sitting on the kitchen counter eating while Rafe stood across from you. Every time he would finish a piece of pizza, he would gently throw his crust at you, causing you to squeal and duck out of the way while he laughed and claimed he was trying to throw it back in the box and not at you. You dodged the last crust he threw at you, tossing your own at him and smacking him in the chest with it. “So I have a serious question for you.” Rafe quirked his eyebrow at you. “Ok shoot.” You stared at him for a moment before asking. “Why do you call me sunshine?” The question seemed to startle a laugh out of Rafe. “You really want to know?” When you continued to stare at him, Rafe relented. “The first time I ever saw you, you were running around with John B and JJ, and you had the most intense resting bitch face I had ever seen. You were intimidating as hell, and I remember someone saying, “Well, isn’t she just a ray of sunshine?” And I thought it fit you perfectly.” After a few moments of silence, you doubled over in laughter. You couldn’t believe all this time he has been calling you sunshine because of your resting bitch face. 

Once your laughter died down, Rafe got a curious look on his face as he asked you, “So how are things with JJ? Are you doing okay?" You took a minute to think about your answer. “Things are a little awkward, but that’s expected. I love Kie and JJ, and I want them to be happy. It just hurts how he went about everything, but I’ll be fine. JJ is acting weird towards me a little, but I figure he’s just worried because of how everything went down.” Rafe nodded along as you spoke. “Well, I’m glad you are feeling better about everything. I know how you felt about him, even if I don’t get the appeal at all.” You laughed and threw another pizza crust at him for the subtle jab he threw in about JJ. “You actually helped me with that a lot. I was in my head about it, but you helped distract me and get me out of my own head. That reminds me.” You remembered the bracelet you made for him and removed it from your other bracelets. You quickly toss it at him. His eyes widen as he catches it. “I made this for you. I know it’s not a lot, and you will probably think it’s stupid, I don’t expect you to wear it or anything, but I wanted to give you something to say thanks for the other night.” Rafe looked down at the bracelet, running his thumb across the little sun charm you had woven into it. No one had ever given him something; they actually put time and effort into making him. Usually, people opt to just throw money at him or randomly buy something expensive with no thought behind it. Just when you were starting to feel really stupid about the whole situation, Rafe’s big hands were cupping your face, and his lips were crashing against your own. You startled for a moment, as you didn’t even register him moving towards you, but you quickly reciprocated the kiss, gripping onto his broad shoulders. 

If kissing JJ knocked the wind out of you, kissing Rafe was like being set on fire. Your entire body felt like a live wire, and you were hyper-aware of every point of contact. Rafe’s hands found their way to your hips, and he bit your lip as he gripped them, causing you to moan. Rafe took the opportunity to lick his way into your mouth. You buried your hands in his hair as your hips rolled against him, feeling his growing erection pressing against you. Rafe pulled back from the kiss, breathing heavily, and it jerked you out of your daze. You felt panic start to set in. This couldn’t happen to you again. You knew he was just fucking with you. God damn it, how fucking pathetic could you be? He was probably going to tell everyone about this and how delusional you were to think he would actually give you the time of day. Then Rafe’s rough voice cut through your internal monologue. “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” You focused back on him, noticing that he wasn’t pulling away, and he looked like he genuinely just wanted to make sure you were okay with this. Panting, you nodded your head, not trusting your voice, and surged forward to kiss him again.

Rafe’s hands slid under your hips as he hoisted you off the kitchen counter, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. Somehow he managed to maneuver you up the stairs and to his bedroom, where he kicked the door shut and gently let you down. You slid your hands under Rafe’s shirt, and he quickly pulled it over his head. You left kisses across his chest as your hands got to work on removing his belt and jeans. Once you got his pants undone, they fell to the ground, and you dropped to your knees on the plush carpet, kissing your way down his body. Rafe groaned at the sight of you looking up at him as you slowly pulled his black boxer briefs down his muscular thighs. Rafe’s chest was heaving as you looked up at him from your position on your knees, and you slowly leaned forward, licking a stripe up his hard length, causing his head to fall back and a moan to fall from his lips. There was something so exhilarating about how you had him completely naked and wanting while you were still fully clothed. Rafe quickly looked back down at you as you took his length into your warm mouth. Your eyes slipped shut in concentration as you tried to take all of him into your mouth. You feel him thread his fingers through your hair. “Eyes up here, baby. Take your time.” Maintaining eye contact with Rafe as he moaned and praise fell from his lips caused you to clench your thighs together, looking for some sort of relief. 

You take what you can’t fit into your mouth in your hand and slowly guide him back into your mouth. You maintain eye contact as your tongue moves slowly under the ridge and around his tip, causing his breathing to become faster. As you increase suction, you feel him straining to hold back his orgasm. The next thing you know, Rafe is hauling you up from the ground and tossing you on the bed. It startles a laugh out of you, but then he quickly covers your body with his own. He slides his hands up under his sweatshirt as he’s kissing you. Leaning back, he helps you sit up to remove it. Noticing you aren’t wearing anything underneath, he lets out a groan as his eyes catch on the baby blue barbells that adorn your puffy nipples. “God damn it, you’re perfect.” Rafe quickly leans down, attaching his mouth to one nipple and then the next, causing you to moan and arch into his warm mouth. He takes his time alternatingly kissing your breasts and playing with your nipple rings with his tongue while he undoes your shorts, slipping them off and throwing them across the room.

He slowly works his way down your body, maintaining eye contact, and places a kiss on your black silk panties. “Look at you; you’re so wet, and I’ve barely even touched you, Sunshine. Did sucking my cock make you this wet?” You let out a pitiful whine, bucking your hips towards his face. Chuckling, he pins your hips to the mattress as he slowly peels the damp fabric away. “Use your words, baby.” Whining, you relent. “Yes. It’s all because of you. Please touch me.” A predatory smile slides across his beautiful face. “Good girl.” He dives down, licking a broad stripe up your center, causing you to moan. Sitting up on your elbows, you are mesmerized as he laps at your core like you are the sweetest thing he has ever tasted. You toss your head back as Rafe waists no time pushing two fingers into your needy core. His fingers are so long and thick, hitting all the spots you can never manage to reach by yourself. You can feel your orgasm approaching as your walls start to tighten around his thick fingers, but before you can crash over the edge, Rafe pulls away, causing you to whimper at the sudden empty feeling. Chuckling Rafe shushes you as he crawls back over your body. "Shh, shh, it’s ok, baby. I’m going to make you feel so good. I promise. But the first time I make you cum, I want it to be on my cock.” He smirks as he guides his tip to your entrance. All of the air is knocked out of you as you feel him slowly start to sink into you. You wrap your legs around his waist and dig your nails into his back at the almost painful stretch. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but he was definitely bigger than anyone you had ever been with. Once he was fully seated inside you, he gave you a few minutes to adjust while kissing you passionately. When he started making shallow thrusts, you moaned at the feeling, spurring him to go faster and a bit harder. "God, Sunshine, look at you; you’re taking me so well.” The praise falling from his lips, along with the bruising grip he had on your hips and the exquisite feeling of him pounding into you, was pushing you rapidly towards your release. Rafe could feel your orgasm getting closer as you moaned louder. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.” You feel his hand move, and his thumb starts to rub tight circles over your aching clit. You feel your walls start to convulse around him as your back arches and stars flash behind your eyes. You dig your nails into his back once again, triggering his release. You feel him spasm inside of your sensative walls as you slowly come down from your high.

After a few minutes of catching your breath, Rafe carefully slips out of you and makes his way to the en-suite bathroom. Before you can start to feel awkward, Rafe reappears with a damp cloth and gently cleans you up, wiping over your sensitive pussy with the cool cloth. Once he’s finished, he tosses the cloth somewhere in the room as he lays down and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his warm chest. Surrounded by Rafe’s woodsy scent and his heartbeat in your ear, you start to drift off. You know that you should talk about what just happened, but before you can say anything, sleep pulls you under.

Next

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