ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 !!

Rafe x Baker!Reader

-> headcanons + blurbs

ꕥ Rafe knew he was done for the moment he tasted Baker!Reader's desserts because if something this sweet could come from her hands, he could only imagine how life-changing it would be to have her heart.

You shouldn’t be here. The thought ran circles in your head as you adjusted the lace on your apron for the tenth time. The waiters sweeping past with trays of champagne looked polished and effortless. Meanwhile, you were you: a Pogue in a borrowed dress under a flour-dusted apron, standing behind a dessert table that probably cost more than your entire bakery. Meanwhile, Rafe noticed you the moment he walked in, your brows knit together in concentration as you adjusted a plate by a fraction of an inch. He lingered, watching as you smoothed your apron, took a deep breath, and finally looked up, only to find him staring. Your eyes widened slightly, and Rafe fought back a small smile. “Hi,” he said, stepping forward before he could think better of it. “Hi,” you echoed, hesitating. You glanced at the empty flute in his hand. “Oh—um, the bar is over there.” Rafe smirked. “Yeah, I know. But I think I’d rather be over here.” Your lips parted slightly, and he felt something warm spread through him at your flustered expression. “I—I’m just the baker,” you said softly, as if that explained why someone like him shouldn’t be talking to someone like you. Rafe tilted his head, intrigued. “So you made all this?” He gestured to the perfectly arranged pastries, the mini cakes adorned with edible gold leaf. You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “First big event I’ve catered,” you admitted shyly. “I have a little bakery in The Cut, but—” “The Cut?” he repeated, brows lifting slightly. A Pogue. You braced yourself for whatever comment might come next, but Rafe only hummed, reaching past you to pluck a macaron from the tray. You opened your mouth to protest, those were supposed to be served later, but Rafe had already taken a bite. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second, and when they reopened, there was something almost boyish in his expression. “Holy shit,” he muttered, looking down at the macaron like it held the secrets of the universe. A startled laugh escaped your lips. “Good?” Rafe looked at you, serious. “I’d actually fight someone for another one of these.” You shook your head, amused. “Well, you don’t have to. You can just… take one.” Rafe smirked. “Nah, I like the idea of fighting for you.” Your breath hitched slightly, and he didn’t miss the way you quickly looked away, as if you could hide the sudden warmth in your cheeks. Rafe just grabbed another macaron, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m definitely coming to your bakery tomorrow.”

ꕥ Rafe Becomes Baker!Reader's #1 Customer (and Admirer)

The next morning, he actually showed up at your bakery. You were still wiping down the counters, your apron tied neatly over your dress, when the bell above the door chimed. “You’re here early," you blinked in surprise, fingers tightening around your rag. Rafe Cameron, in all his Kook glory, stood in your little bakery like he belonged there. His hair was still damp from a shower, pushed back like he hadn’t quite cared enough to style it, and his shirt was only half-buttoned over his undershirt, like he’d thrown it on in a rush. He looked out of place. And yet, somehow, he also looked… comfortable. “Yeah, I—uh—just need a coffee,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, after a beat, he added, “And like, one of everything.” You stared at him. “One of everything?” Rafe nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Just, y’know… for variety.” Variety. You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to smile. “Alright, well, it’s gonna take a minute.” “That’s fine.” He rocked back on his heels. “I got time.” And he did have time, apparently. Because after that morning, Rafe Cameron started showing up at your bakery every day. At first, it was just for coffee and a pastry. Then it turned into two pastries. Then three. Then “I’ll just take a whole box.” And then, one morning, you caught him watching as you kneaded dough behind the counter. He was leaning on the display case, elbow propped up, watching you with the kind of lazy, amused smirk that made your stomach do something ridiculous. “What?” you asked, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. Rafe tilted his head. “Nothing.” You narrowed your eyes. “You’re staring.” He grinned. “Yeah, well. It’s interesting.” “Me baking is interesting?” “Kinda,” he said, like it was obvious. “I mean, you get all serious. It’s cute.” You fumbled the dough.

ꕥ Baker!Reader Was a Pogue. Rafe Was a Kook. It Was Complicated.

Rafe leaned against the bakery counter, watching you roll out dough with the kind of focus that made his chest feel tight. Your apron was dusted with flour, a smudge of it on your cheek, and your hands moved with effortless precision. He hated it. Not you... never you. But the fact that you worked so damn hard for so little. That no matter how many hours you poured into this place, it was barely enough to keep the lights on. That your oven broke last week and you had to shut down for two days because you couldn’t afford a repairman right away. He hated that. “You know you’re too good for this side of the island, right?” You glanced up, breath hitching slightly, before rolling your eyes. “I like this side of the island, Rafe.” He drummed his fingers against the counter. “I could buy you a place in Figure Eight.” “No.” “Okay.” He shrugged. “But if you ever change your mind…” You shot him a look, exasperated but amused. “I won’t.” Rafe didn’t push. He never did... not about this, at least. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. Because every morning, he saw how early you got up. He saw the way you rubbed your sore wrists after hours of kneading dough, the way your eyes dimmed a little when you counted the register and barely made enough to cover next week’s supply order. You were so good at what you did. And yet, the world still made you struggle for it. It pissed him off. And Rafe Cameron hated feeling powerless. So, he did what he could. He came in every day. Bought more than he could eat. Slipped a few extra bills under the register when you weren’t looking. Sent other Kooks your way, dropping your bakery’s name at country club brunches like it was the hottest new trend. And when you got suspicious, when you narrowed your eyes at him after his third suspiciously large order in a week, he just smirked and said, “What? I like good food.” And that you believed. Because he did. But more than that, he liked you.

ꕥ Rafe Started Helping Baker!Reader Out… In His Own Rafe Way.

You sighed as you stared at the absurd stack of cash in the tip jar. Again. “Rafe.” Rafe, who was currently leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee like he hadn’t just dropped an entire hundred-dollar bill for a pastry that cost three bucks, looked up innocently. “What?” You crossed your arms. “This is ridiculous.” “It’s my money,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I do what I want with it.” You narrowed your eyes. “And what you want to do is leave a hundred-dollar tip for a muffin?” “Damn good muffin,” he replied, taking another bite. “Honestly, you should be charging more.” You huffed, shoving the money toward him. “I can’t take this.” Rafe just smirked, tilting his coffee cup toward you in a mock toast. “Good thing I already walked away.” He strolls off smugly, towering over the other customers. You wanted to be mad, but how could you be when you knew exactly what he was doing? And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Because then, suddenly, Kooks started coming in. Rich girls in designer dresses asking about your custom cakes, trust fund guys showing up with their dads’ AmEx cards to place catering orders. At first, you thought maybe people had just noticed your bakery. But then... “Yeah, I don’t care if you don't want cupcakes at your yacht party, you’re ordering from her.” You whipped your head around to see Rafe standing outside the bakery, phone to his ear, already negotiating your next big order. “Rafe,” you hissed, striding up and yanking the phone out of his hand. “I won't charge Kook prices—” “Then I’ll pay the difference,” he said easily. You stared at him, mouth opening and closing. “That’s not how business works.” Rafe shrugged. “It is now.” And what were you supposed to say to that? Because somehow, this was just so him. Helping in the only way he knew how. With money. With influence. With that damn smirk that made you want to yell at him and kiss him at the same time. You shook your head, shoving his phone back at him. “You’re impossible.” He grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your favorite customer.”

ꕥ Rafe Bragged About Baker!Reader to Everyone. Constantly.

“She’s the best baker on the island. No—actually? Best in the whole damn country,” Rafe declared, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. Topper rolled his eyes. “Bro, it’s a bakery, not a Michelin-star restaurant.” Rafe scoffed. “Shut up, you wouldn’t know good food if it smacked you in the face. Her croissants? Life-changing. Her cakes? Masterpieces. Like, people should be paying thousands for them.” Kelce raised a brow. “You mean, you pay thousands for them.” Rafe shrugged, unbothered. “Worth every penny.” His friends had never seen him like this: practically glowing whenever he talked about you. It was kind of ridiculous. And it only got worse when you started dating. “Yo, you gotta try this,” Rafe would say, shoving a pastry into someone’s hands before they could protest. “My girl made it. From scratch.” At parties, he’d corner people and pull up pictures on his phone, of cakes, cookies, pastries, like a proud dad showing off his kid’s school projects. One time, you even caught him filming an Instagram story of your bakery’s display case, narrating like a food critic. “Look at that. Perfection. That’s my girl.” And the way he beamed when he called you that? His girl? It made your stomach flip every time. One night, you were curled up on his couch, your head resting on his chest as he scrolled through his phone. “You know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “one day, you’re gonna have your own fancy bakery in Figure Eight. And I’ll be the first one in line every morning.” You snorted. “I like my little bakery in The Cut, Rafe.” He smirked, tightening his arm around you. “Yeah, yeah. But when you expand, just remember who believed in you first.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. Because as much as Rafe loved to brag about you, the truth was, he just really loved you.

A/N: i love them.

Bunny (P12)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: well bazinga. here we are- I'm loving you guys all fangirling over rafe and bunny cause they're such cutie patooties. But happiness is not for free, so I'm really really sorry about this one- I hope ya'll can forgive me. (and rafe) (idk if I can)

warnings: angst :(, alcohol, smoking, weed, violence, fights, drunkenness, rafe being a little bitch

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12)

The air is heavy with the lingering warmth of the day, the sky streaked with dying gold and violet as Y/N steps out the back exit of the country club. The low hum of insects fills the silence, broken only by the soft scrape of her boots against the pavement. Her shoulders are tired, the strap of her bag crumpled in one hand, and she taps her phone screen with the other, the glow casting light across her features, a new message flashing on the screen.

JJ : Lost my charger again

JJ. : Its okay tho cuz I took yours

JJ : I'll give it back

JJ : (I won't)

A laugh spills quietly from her lips, soft and genuine. That familiar feeling of warmth spreads through her chest at his messages. It'd been a few weeks since she'd come back from Charleston- since JJ had finally got a job. And she had to admit he was trying, really trying, so now their long awkward conversation which ended with deafening silence had eased in to sweet and stupid messages and playful banter which filled the walls of their bedrooms once more. Her fingers typed out a reply—

Y/N : u better u loser

She places the phone into her pocket and glances up- and then stops dead in her tracks. Her car’s parked at the far end of the staff lot, right where she left it but what she didn’t leave, was the sleek black Range Rover sitting beside it, the glossy paint catching the orange hues of the setting sun. She stiffens immediately, scanning the lot, no one around and her steps towards her car quicken. The driver’s side door opens, and Rafe steps out, tall and unbothered, his hands in the pockets of his dark jacket, and there’s that stupid smirk playing on his lips. Her heart jumps straight into her throat. “Rafe—” she hisses under her breath, marching toward him with panic in her eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

He lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug, voice low and smooth, “What? I can’t come see you?”

“Not in the staff parking lot,” she snaps in a hushed whisper, “Do you want someone to see you? What if someone from inside walks out—”

“Relax”

He says gently, stepping forward and before she can argue more, his hands are at her hips, warm and familiar, tugging her closer until her body is brushing against his in the narrow space between the cars. The proximity knocks the air from her lungs. Her hands instinctively rest against his chest, palms flat over the material of his t-shirt where she can feel his heartbeat, steady and calm beneath her fingers.

Hers? Not so much.

“There’s no one around...”

He murmurs, head tilted down as he looks at her, his voice softer now, velvety and coaxing and her breath catches. She should push him away. She should tell him this is reckless, stupid, dangerous. But his scent- musky and alluring- clouds her thoughts. And his touch, just the lightest press of fingertips against the small of her back— is so familiar now, so comforting in its own twisted way. And she hates that it’s comforting. Her fingers twitch against his chest. She finally manages a whisper her words stubborn,

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he says, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile in his voice as he leans in just a fraction closer, breath ghosting against her temple.

“But I wanted to be.”

She rolls her eyes with a long, exaggerated sigh, but her lips betray her- tugging upward at the corners, betraying the way he’s already wormed his way into her mood.

“We’re gonna get caught”

She mutters under her breath, glancing toward the dark stretch of the staff lot like someone might materialise from the shadows. The words barely leave her lips, soft and hurried, like they know better than to draw attention. Rafe just smirks, tilting his head down slightly, his chin angling toward her as he closes the few inches left between them.

“Not if you kiss me quick”

He says, voice low and roughened with amusement. Her eyes squint in a playful glare, head pulling back a fraction.

“You’re so annoying.”

But her body leans in all the same.

Her fingers find the soft t-shirt, curling into the fabric without even thinking. She rises onto the balls of her feet, just barely, and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s quick and light—barely a brush. Just a flicker of warmth, like a secret passed between two people in the dark. As she pulls away, his face follows hers- like his lips are trying to chase the kiss she’s already taken back. He doesn’t even think about it, just dips forward slightly, a greedy edge in his movement. She breathes out a small laugh, pushing against his chest with a single finger. “Nope,” she says, her smile widening.

“I'm hungry.”

"Yeah well so am I"

He lets his hands slip from her hips with a groan that’s more for show than anything, head rolling back as he leans against the hood of his car. She just shrugs, the inuendo lost on her ears as she adjusts the bag on her shoulder.

“You’re such a tease Bunny”

He drawls and she snorts, already turning on her heel to head toward the trunk of her car.

“I don’t know what you mean Cameron.”

Her fingers make quick work of the car key, popping the trunk. She grabs the rolled-up apron resting on top her bag and tosses it in alongside her worn-out tote bag, the whole thing collapsing into a pile on top of an old hoodie and a dented water bottle. The sound of the trunk slamming shut echoes across the empty lot. Spinning back around to face him, she crosses her arms and leans her weight into one hip, chin tilted up with that same little smile that drives him crazy.

“You really wanna get caught by one of your little Kook friends out here with me?” she teases, cocking a brow. “Have to explain why you’ve been slumming it with a Pogue?”

His smirk twitches- just a smidge. For the briefest moment, his expression shifts and something softer creeps into it. Something a little more sincere. His gaze lingers on her face longer than it should and then flickers back down to her lips before returning back up again.

“Wouldn’t care if they did”

He says simply, a quiet shrug rolling off his shoulders as if he means it, as if it's the simplest answer in the world. It catches her off guard- freezes her for a beat. Her mouth opens, then closes again but she recovers quick, brushing it off with a scoff and a roll of her eyes.

“You’re so full of shit.”

But even as the words leave her lips, there’s a faint flicker of something else behind her voice- something almost moved. Something she doesn’t want to name because it’s been a few weeks since that night.

A few weeks since she tilted her milkshake to her lips and he wiped the sweet drip from her skin with his thumb like it meant nothing. Since he kissed her like he’d been holding back for months and she melted into it like her body had been waiting on that exact moment to exhale. And since then? It’s been a series of late-night meet ups that feel like a secret thread connecting them. Not the kind that spun in lies—but the kind too delicate to speak aloud. The kind you carry with careful hands and quiet hearts in fear of it snapping. Every night, after her shift ends and the world turns quiet, she finds him waiting. Always parked in the back corner of some parking lot—headlights off, music low and she slips into the passenger seat without a word, throws her bag in the back, kicks off her shoes, and leans over to kiss him like she’s been holding her breath all day.

The kisses are slow at first. Always. A shared pause. But then they tip into something deeper, heavier—like they’re trying to memorise each other without crossing any lines they haven’t drawn out loud- but it never goes further than that. His hands stay respectful, if not reverent- one cupping her jaw, the other braced on the back of her seat or tangled gently on her waist, on her hip, in her hair. Her fingers clutch the hem of his shirt like a tether, holding on but not pulling him in any closer than he already is.

There’s a quiet fire, always simmering, but neither of them dare feed it too much. Neither of them dare ask what they are. It’s easier this way. Safer. They stay pressed into the quiet hum of those car rides, the warmth of shared fries, the heat of stolen kisses in the dark, and the steady, unspoken beat of something they’ve both grown addicted to but don’t yet understand.

Rafe leaned against the top of her car, forearms braced over the roof like he had all the time in the world. The late golden hour sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the near-empty staff lot behind the country club. His eyes squinted slightly from the light, jaw sharp as ever, that casual grin tugging at the corner of his mouth “What’s your hurry today, huh?” he drawled lazily, peering down at her with a teasing glint.

“You extra hungry or what?”

Y/N huffed, already halfway into the driver’s seat of her little beat-up car, one leg in, one out, “No asshole- I just don’t want anyone to spot us, okay?”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, the sound low and unbothered. He shrugged one shoulder and pushed off the car just enough to stretch lazily.

“It’s not a big deal.”

She snapped her head up to look at him, her tone sharper now, “Yeah, actually Rafe—it is a big deal. Because if JJ finds out—”

“I know”

He cut in, dragging a hand over his jaw, irritation flashing in his eyes. “If JJ finds out, he’ll be mad. Whatever. I get it, okay? No need to tell me again.”

The words hung between them for a second, heavier than either wanted them to be. The silence wasn’t angry- but it was tense. The same argument they hadn’t quite had, bubbling beneath their stolen moments. He stood there now by her open car door, his figure blocking some of the sunlight, casting a soft shadow over her where she sat inside the car. From where she was, her eye level landed right at his belt. Her gaze softened a bit, guilt tugging at her gut. Then her hand came up, absent-minded and almost sheepish, her fingers catching on the loop of his jeans. She played with it lightly, tugging once. A peace offering. His eyes flicked down to her hand, then to her face, jaw still tight. She asked quietly, tilting her head up at him with a playful sort of pout, brows lifted just a touch.

“You mad..?”

“No,” he replied, voice low. “Why would I be mad?”

She shrugged, still toying with the denim loop, “I dunno. I thought—” she cut herself off, shaking her head a little, “Doesn’t matter.”

Rafe didn’t press. He let it hang, then gave a soft hum, looking around the lot- empty still, save for their two cars and the rustle of wind through the nearby trees. “So,” he drawled, rocking back slightly on his heels.

“We going to get something to eat or what?”

Y/N brightened a little, grateful for the pivot. “I’m feelingggg…” she stretched the word dramatically, “Chinese?”

He smiled at that slightly, nodding, “Chinese sounds good.”

“Cool,” she said, pulling her legs fully into the car now, “I’ll meet you there then?”

He gave a small nod, “Yeah… yeah.”

But she could tell- by the way he paused before turning away, by the way his fingers twitched at his side- that he was still holding onto a bit of a grudge. He hadn’t gotten his kiss, not a real one. And that wounded pride was showing, even if he tried to hide it behind his nonchalant façade. She rolled her eyes with a soft exhale- who would have thought Rafe Cameron was so needy?

Reaching up, she curled her fingers into the front of his T-shirt, tugging him gently back down toward her, guiding him until he bent slightly, face now level with hers. His breath hitched, eyelashes fluttering as he leaned into her touch. She kissed him then- firm, but warm. Just enough to melt that sulking tension in his brow. His lips moved against hers with a soft hum, his hand bracing on the edge of her door as he leaned in a fraction more, savouring it. When she pulled back, his eyes were still half-lidded, lips parted like he wanted to chase her mouth again.

“You done now, you baby?”

She murmured with a crooked smile, eyes teasing but fond. Rafe’s smirk returned, slow and smug. “Yeah,” he murmured, straightening up,

“I’m done now.”

And with that, he backed away from the car, hands in his jacket pockets like he hadn’t just been melting under her touch. She watched him retreat toward his car, her heart doing that dumb little flutter it always did lately, it lingered in her chest. Just as his door swung open, he looked back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t forget the egg rolls.”

She rolled her eyes and started her car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quiet hum of the radio filled the space between them, the soft crackle of music soothing after a long day. They sat there in the dim light of the car, the smell of Chinese food mingling with the fresh evening air that drafted in through the slightly cracked window. Y/N leaned back against the seat, her legs tucked up beneath her as she dug into her takeout container. Rafe sat beside her, elbow propped up on the door, his free hand reaching for his food, the sound of plastic utensils scraping against the containers faint in the otherwise still air. Rafe asked, his voice low as he finally broke the silence, his eyes flicking over to her as he stuffed a piece of chicken in his mouth.

“How was work?”

“It was… okay”

Y/N muttered, chewing before she continued, eyes shifting away from him for a moment, “Had this asshole customer... one of your friends actually.”

“One of my friends? Who?”

Rafe’s brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing slightly in curiosity as he put his food down. Y/N rolled her eyes as she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, her expression calm despite the frustration in her voice.

“That guy Brett? The one you hang out with sometimes. Total jerk.”

“Why, what did he do?”

Her expression tightened as she recounted the experience, “he kept clicking his fingers in my face like I was some kind of dog, and whenever I went over to his table, he called me ‘waitress’ like I’m not even good to have a name? God he was so patronising.”

“He really did that?”

He asked, disbelief creeping into his tone, jaw clenched. Y/N tilted her head toward him, not missing the change in his expression. 

“Yeah, why? You don’t believe me?”

“No” He muttered, his voice hardening a little as he picked up his food again, his hand gripping the chopsticks tighter than necessary.

“I believe you.”

He took a bite, chewing slowly as he fought the frustration that was rising inside him. A small silence settled between them, the only sound the soft clinking of their chopsticks against the takeout containers. Rafe didn’t like that she had to deal with people like that, didn’t like it one bit.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?”

He asked, his voice casual, but something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Y/N turned her head slowly toward him, her expression soft but guarded as she mumbled,

“Working.”

Rafe blinked raising an eyebrow, “It’s Saturday…?”

“Yeah, and?” She shrugged, taking another bite of her food, her voice low and almost dismissive. “I’m broke, Rafe. I’m always working.”

His eyes darkened again as he placed his food down with a soft clink, his fingers tapping against the lid of the container. He wasn’t about to let this go- he hated it, and they both knew it. He took a sip of his drink, the cold liquid hitting his throat like a jolt, but it did nothing to cool the fire that was building in him. He put the cup back in the cup holder with a sigh, his voice quieter but still firm.

“I don’t see why you can’t just take a break. You don’t always have to work.”

“We’re not having this conversation again Rafe.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over to him, her face hardening slightly as she gave him a pointed look. He frowned, the words heavy in the air.

“Look, I get that maybe you think it’s embarrassing to accept my—”

“If you keep talking about this,” she interrupted, her tone sharper now, “I’m getting out of your car.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, taking in the shift in her expression- the quiet defensiveness there, the exhaustion she was trying to hide. He didn’t want to push her too hard, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying. He paused, the weight of her words sinking in, then gave a short, almost defeated nod, like he was choosing to back off of the subject for now. Y/N didn’t say anything in response, her eyes softening as she turned back to her food, the brief tension hanging in the air like smoke. She had already given him her answer. She had already drawn the line before, and Rafe knew he’d have to respect it—for now. The silence that settled between them wasn’t heavy but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Just... quiet. Their takeout containers were nearly empty now, the scent of soy and spice lingering faintly in the car, blending with the low hum of music still playing in the background. Y/N had reclined her seat a bit, one leg tucked up under the other, the other stretched out, socked foot resting against the dashboard. Her shoes sat forgotten on the floor, and a soft breeze drifted in through the cracked window, brushing gently against her skin.

Rafe glanced over at her, his arm draped over the back of her seat, thumb idly brushing the seam of the leather. She looked content, even if a little tired- hair slightly messy from the day, lashes casting soft shadows across her cheekbones as she stared out at nothing in particular. He liked seeing her like this, unfiltered.

“There’s a party tomorrow night”

He said suddenly, voice quiet but breaking the lull between them. He reached forward, placing his empty cup in the holder before leaning back again, tapping a slow rhythm on his thigh. She turned her head lazily, brows knitting together slightly.

“A party?”

He nodded, “One of the beach houses on Figure Eight. Bunch of people’ll be there.” He paused, then looked over at her, expression unreadable.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Her head lifted a little more now, blinking at him like she wasn’t sure she’d heard that right. “Yeah.” He gave a slow shrug, feigning casual, but his eyes were locked on hers, watching closely.

“I’m gonna be there...”

“Since when do you want me showing up to a Kook party?”

Y/N sat up slightly in her seat, feet slipping from the dashboard and landing softly on the floor. He smirked lightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Since now.”

There was a beat of silence, then another. Her gaze searched his face, trying to find the catch—but there wasn’t one. Just Rafe, looking at her like he didn’t care if the whole island had something to say about her. She asked, voice lower now, almost testing him.

“You serious?”

“Yeah- I am.”

He leaned a little closer, one arm still draped along the back of her seat. Y/N pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, watching him, chewing over the offer in her mind. The idea of being in that world with no responsibilities- even just for a night- felt risky. Foreign. But something in the way he was looking at her made it hard to say no.

“I don't know Rafe... I’d stick out like a sore thumb besides people will talk-”

"-people always talk”

He shot back cutting her off slightly, amused as she frowned slightly, arms crossing tighter as she shook her head a little.

“This is different. You know it is.”

Rafe tilted his head thinking deeply, but didn’t press her just yet, “Your friend’s gonna be there,” he said instead, voice smooth as ever.

“My—what? Who?”

“Sofia, right?”

He squinted slightly and Y/N straightened a little, her mouth dropping open at the mention of the girls name.

“Sofia’s going?”

“Yeah.” He was smirking now. “That guy she’s been seeing? The new Kook on the island? He’s the one throwing it.”

“She hasn’t told me that,” Y/N muttered, staring at him.

“Well.” He turned more toward her, resting his elbow against the console and tapping the edge of her thigh with his fingers playfully.

“Looks like you’re not the only one with a dirty little secret.”

She let out a shocked laugh, eyes widening at the words passing his lips before narrowing her gaze at him as she shoved his shoulder back, playful but not gentle,

“You’re such a dick, Cameron.”

He only grinned, letting her shove him- indulging in the feeling of her touch even if momentary. Y/N gave a little scoff and turned away, but her smile lingered. A beat of silence passed over them before she spoke out, “Fine,” she said, like it pained her to admit it.

“I guess I can… think about it.”

“Think about it?” Rafe echoed with mock offense, sitting up straighter, “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

She didn’t look at him this time, just smirked and reached down to close her container, the sound of clicking plastic filling the car. She then bent over placing it down on the floor, and as she sat back up Rafe leaned in closer again, slower this time, the tip of his nose brushing her jaw before his lips followed. He kissed the curve beneath her ear, then slowly worked his lips down the side of her neck.

"Maybe I can persuade you to come hmm...?"

“You’re such a perv”

She mumbled through a grin, her hand finding his chest and giving him a half-hearted push. He pulled back slightly, lips acting from her skin as he muttered,

“So… still a no?”

“Fine... I’ll come.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile that betrayed her. Rafe sat back accomplished as he spoke out, “Knew you'd give in.”

“But,” she added, wagging a finger at him. “You’re not glued to me all night, okay? Or people will notice.”

“Relax. We’ll keep it lowkey.”

He gave her that cocky, lopsided grin again and before she could snark back another smart-assed comment, he hit the button on the side of his seat. With a low mechanical whir, his chair reclined all the way back, and he stretched out like a king- arms behind his head, t-shirt rising just enough to show a sliver of his toned stomach. Then he patted his thigh, smirking.

“So… where were we?”

Y/N shook her head, heat prickling her cheeks as she shifted toward him again, “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her knees were already crawling across the seat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun had long dipped below the tree line now, and the soft golden wash of string lights gave the Chateau its usual hazy, warm glow. A lazy summer night settled in with the gentle hum of cicadas in the distance and the low bass of music crackling from the old speaker propped up on a makeshift crate. Everyone was sprawled out in their usual places- Cleo had her legs kicked up on the railing, passing a blunt between her fingers, while Pope leaned back in one of the rickety lawn chairs, letting the smoke curl from his mouth toward the night sky. JJ was stretched across the hammock, shirtless of course, balancing a beer on his chest while making some offhand joke that had Kiara snorting into her drink. John B sat on the edge of the porch, Sarah curled comfortably in his lap, her fingers absentmindedly threading through his messy hair as she hummed along to the music. Then, like she suddenly remembered something juicy, Sarah’s voice piped up.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you guys.”

Everyone’s eyes flicked toward her lazily, half-baked or halfway drunk. JJ raised an eyebrow, already skeptical. “There’s this party tomorrow night. One of the beach houses on Figure Eight — some rich kid’s throwing it. But I got the invite,” she emphasized with a little smirk, twirling a lock of her blonde hair,

“which means you guys can come too!”

There was a collective beat of silence, then came the chaos.

“A kook party?” Pope made a face. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Hard pass”

Kiara chimed in, swirling what was left in her cup. JJ sat up a bit in the hammock, giving Sarah a look of exaggerated offence, “Sarah — my best friend’s dearest girlfriend — why the hell would I willingly put myself in a room full of kooks with their Vineyard Vines shirts and trust funds?”

“Kook fest? I don't think so- rude boy's got a point."

Cleo added, completely unfazed. Sarah groaned dramatically, tossing her head back against John B’s shoulder, “Guys, everyone on the island’s been invited. Literally everyone. You want to miss the one time we can sneak in and drink their expensive-ass booze and pretend to be civilised?”

John B scratched the back of his neck, “I mean… Sare, are you sure this is a good idea? These things usually end in someone getting arrested or beat up.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” she shot back smiling up at him, “Come on, baby...”

JJ shook his head with a mock sigh, “I do love chaos, but I also love not getting decked by some pastel-wearing rich boy with a superiority complex.”

“C’monnn,” Sarah pleaded, eyes bouncing between them all. “Free booze. Loud music. Rich kids being embarrassing. You telling me you wanna miss that?” JJ glanced around, took a swig of his beer, then shrugged like he was warming up to the idea.

“Free booze, huh?”

“Like actually free”

Sarah said, perking up as she nodded her head. Kiara sighed before adding to the ongoing debate. “Okay I guess if we go in a group, it’s not like they can kick us all out.”

Pope laughed, “That’s comforting.”

“So it’s decided then?”

Sarah asked, clapping her hands and JJ leaned back with a smirk.

“Eh why the hell not. 

The chatter faded back into that familiar haze- the music a little louder now, the clinking of glass bottles, occasional bursts of laughter echoing under the soft glow of the porch lights. JJ had flopped dramatically back into the hammock, tossing a peanut at Pope, who swatted it away with a sharp “cut that out”, but he was grinning as he said it. Kiara and Cleo were side by side, passing the blunt like it was a baton in the slowest relay race known to man, and Sarah was still curled into John B, nose buried in his neck as she murmured something that made him laugh under his breath. Then the crunch of gravel under tires caught their ears- a car rolling up toward the end of the drive, headlights slicing through the trees. Everyone instinctively turned to look, and when the engine cut and the door swung open, a familiar silhouette stepped out.

“Y/N!”

Sarah called out instantly, lifting her hand in a wave. JJ was already in motion. He practically leapt out of the hammock with a lopsided grin on his face, his movements loose and full of that buzzed joy that lived in him when he was around his people. He jogged toward her, arms wide like he was about to tackle her. Y/N had barely rounded her door when JJ crashed into her, arms circling tight around her waist and lifting her a few inches off the ground in a twirling hug. She let out a breathless laugh, one arm instinctively hooking around his shoulder.

“Jay, are you drunk?”

“Yes ma’am”

He said proudly, nuzzling his nose against her cheek like a sleepy golden retriever. John B called out from the porch, raising his beer in salute.

“And high!”

“Wow what a responsible crowd I’ve joined.”

She looked past JJ and shook her head smiling, JJ grinned and still half-latched to her side laced his fingers between hers and started tugging her toward the group.

“Welcome, my dear sister, to the finest motive on the island.”

“Yeah, it looks so lit”

Y/N snorted as she said dryly, eyeing the half-deflated pool float on the lawn and Kiara using a stick to fish a beer bottle cap out of the fire pit. Pope looked up and offered her a beer, cracking open another one.

“You want?”

“Nah, I’m driving.”

She shook her head, raising a hand politely. JJ was still practically glued to her back, and now his chin came to rest on her shoulder, his head leaning sleepily against hers like gravity had chosen her specifically. She glanced sideways, her voice softening.

“You okay, mister?”

“Right as rain”

He murmured, words muffled against the collar of her white work polo. Y/N smiled to herself and brought one hand up to gently pat his cheek, a small fondness in her eyes. She dropped down onto the worn-out quilt Pope had stretched across the grass, tucking her legs beneath her and setting her keys in a little pile beside the cooler. The smell of bonfire smoke and salty air clung to everything, and the mellow strum of a guitar looped in the background from someone’s Bluetooth speaker. The Chateau felt hazy with summer warmth and low buzzed laughter, like time didn’t really exist here.

“Y'missed blondie trying to backflip off the porch railing”

Cleo said, raising her eyebrows at the girl, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she handed her a cold bottle of water. Pope snorted from where he sat beside her,

“More like he tripped, flailed, and then landed face-first into the lawn chair. Truly a work of art.”

“Sounds about right.”

Y/N laughed, tilting her head back slightly as she wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “Y/N!” Sarah suddenly perked up from where she was comfortably curled up on John B’s lap, her legs stretched out across the blanket and her fingers idly threading through his curls.

“I almost forgot to tell you- we’re all going to a party tomorrow night. You have to come”

“Oh—uh…”

Y/N hesitated for a split second. Shit. Rafe had already invited her out tomorrow- there was no way she could show up two places at the same time. She furrowed her brows thinking of a quick excuse, “I don’t think I can,” she said slowly.

“Sofia asked me to cover her shift tomorrow night. Late shift.”

The groans came instantly.

“Noooo” Kiara moaned out in disappointment. “Again?” Cleo frowned as she spoke, “Girl, you’re always working.” JJ leaned up, pulling a dramatic face as he sat up behind her, one hand propped on the ground and the other pointing accusingly.

“Y/N- my sweet, overachieving sister. You never go out.”

“I do go out!”

“When?!” JJ countered, hand waving wildly, “Name one time that we went out that didn’t involve grocery shopping or pretending not to cry while pumping gas for my bike cause you can't afford it.”

“JJ, please,” she groaned, rubbing at her forehead the others watching the small sibling quarrel, “Sofia never gets nights off. I have to fill in for her.”

But even as she said it, her mind was moving. What if I go to Rafe’s first? Just for a bit. Then come late, no one would know, they're on different sides of the island. She knew it was risky but- it was worth the risk if it meant getting her brother off her back. She sighed, trying to keep it casual.

“Where is it anyway... maybe I can stop by before it ends.”

Sarah perked up instantly at the question, “New guy just moved into this insane house on Figure 8- I’m technically on the guest list, so by extension, that means all of you get to come.”

Y/N froze.

Her stomach sank, it’s the same party. Her chest tightened like a fist was forming right behind her ribs. The same one Rafe is going to and now… JJ would be there. All of them would be there. She forced a tight smile, heart beating a little faster and her throat closed up slightly. She can’t go. She can’t risk it—JJ seeing her with Rafe? No. Absolutely not. That would ruin everything. He’d lose it. He’d probably have a fit and if he didn’t, the look in his eyes would be worse. She felt herself retreat inward for a split second- like her body was still sitting there on the blanket, but her mind was miles away, spiralling in panic. Then- she forced it back. Forced her lips into a smile, stretched just wide enough to pass as real. She said, voice smooth,

“I’ll see if I can make it”

“Yeah?”

JJ looked over at her, suspiciously squinting, she nodded without hesitation.

“Maybe just for a bit.”

Even as the lie came out of her mouth, her brain was already racing. Y/N cleared her throat softly, still gripping the now half-empty water bottle in her hand. Her eyes swept across the group lounging lazily on the worn blankets and cushions sprawled out on the overgrown lawn.

“I actually think I’m gonna head back now”

She said, standing up slowly and brushing the bits of grass and twigs from her shorts, “Just came to check up on you guys.”

JJ looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged now on a faded beach towel, lips wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle, and gave her a lazy, crooked smile. He winked, blonde hair a windswept mess.

“Mission accomplished sis.”

She rolled her eyes at him, amusement flickering behind her lashes, and bent to grab her keys from the little crate they’d been using as a table.

“You coming back or staying the night?”

She asked, giving him a look as she nodded toward the house, her tone light but a little pointed the role of big sister coming naturally. Before JJ could even open his mouth to respond, John B was already groaning dramatically from the other side of the blanket. “Take him,” he said, flopping his head back against the tree behind him.

“Please. I don’t want him here. He eats everything and he talks in his sleep.”

Sarah burst into laughter in his lap, her whole body shaking with it as she nearly spilled the beer in her hand. “He really does! The other night he mumbled something about raccoons with spatulas.”

“That was one time!”

JJ threw his hands up like he was being framed for a crime. Y/N just bit back a laugh, fighting back a grin watching the chaos unfold with fondness. JJ tilted his head, smirking toward her. “And just because of that,” he said smug as hell,

“I shall be staying the night here. With Mr. John Booker Routledge.”

A round of exaggerated groans erupted from the rest of the group. Y/N laughed under her breath, her fingers still gripping her keys as she shook her head fondly at them. “Alright, alright,” she said,

“Have fun then... don’t get too smashed.”

“No promises!” Kiara called out with a wide smile, raising her can in salute.

“Speak for yourself,” Pope muttered. “I have dignity unlike some.”

That earned another laugh from the group.

Y/N smiled again, softer this time, eyes briefly flicking back to her brother. He caught her gaze and shot her a lopsided grin, one that still looked more boyish than he probably intended. It made something ache a little in her chest- an affection threaded with worry she’d never admit out loud.

“Night Jay”

She murmured before reaching over to ruffle his hair messily. He smiled her lazily before flopping back onto the blanket like a man who had no thoughts, no responsibilities, and no idea that his sister was walking a tightrope he couldn’t see. Y/N turned, the noise behind her fading into the hum of summer insects and music humming from the portable speaker, and walked back to her car,

The car door creaked softly as Y/N pulled it open, the familiar weight of it grounding her just a little. She slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind her with a muted thunk, the quiet inside the car swallowing up the laughter still drifting from the Chateau. The engine wasn’t running yet, and the warm evening air clung to her skin like a second layer. It smelled like sun-warmed leather and pine needles.

For a moment, she just sat there. Her fingers hovered over her bag before she reached in and pulled out her phone, the screen lighting up as soon as her thumb brushed the side. No new messages. Just the same old wallpaper of a blurry sunset and the faint glint of her own reflection staring back. She hesitated and her thumb hovered over the screen for another beat- then tapped into her messages.

Rafe

The name alone made her chest tighten a little. She bit down on her lower lip, chewing at the soft skin absently. Her other hand reached up to pull her hair away from her face, then fell limply against her lap. The inside of the car felt like it was shrinking. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, a sharp whisper into the quiet. She tapped the messages open. Leaning her head back, she let it fall gently against the headrest, eyes blinking up at the roof of the car as she let out a long, tired sigh. Her fingers rested against the phone in her lap, before tapping her fingers against the screen.

She started typing. Hey, change of plans. I might not— Backspace. No. Too vague so she tried again. Something came up— Backspace. Her heart thudded in her chest, slow and heavy. Then she typed with more finality this time:

Bunny : I'm sorry but I can't do tmr

She stared at it. Read it once. Then twice. Then, with a small exhale that she couldn’t quite tell was relief or regret, she hit send. The text shot off into the thread, disappearing into that blue bubble like a stone dropped into deep water. She locked her phone again, let her head fall back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed. Her lips pressed into a line. Maybe that’s for the best, she told herself. Maybe-

Buzz.

Her eyes snapped open. The screen lit up and she unlocked it quickly, thumb tapping into the thread without thinking.

Rafe : what why not

Short and blunt. Her stomach twisted, that anxious little knot curling a bit tighter as her thumbs moved again.

Bunny : Your sister’s going to be there which means JJ’s gonna be there

She sat there, holding her breath like it’d keep her heart from thudding so hard. The typing bubble appeared instantly, three dots bouncing like they knew what they were about to say was going to matter more than it should.

Rafe : so what?

Of course, she thought bitterly, jaw tightening. But before she could respond, another message popped up. She blinked, stunned by how he could sound so calm about something that made her whole chest tighten.

Rafe : Why is that a problem

Bunny : It’s a problem cause he’ll see us

Her fingers tapped harder this time and her hand trembled slightly as she held the phone. She hated this—how tense it made her. How she had to think of all the possible consequences when Rafe didn’t even seem to care.

Rafe : are you serious

Bunny : Yes I’m serious wtf do u mean???

Her reply came before she could even second-guess herself but then… nothing. No bubble, no typing dots and her eyes flicked to the corner of the screen at the bottom. Read. That was it? He read it and then disappeared. A dry laugh escaped her lips, more disbelieving than amused. She pushed her palm against her forehead, trying to will away the creeping frustration crawling beneath her skin.

Rafe : You’re really gonna let your brother control us

Bunny : He’s not controlling us

Rafe : Well he’s controlling this.

Her teeth sunk into her lip again, harder this time as the message made her fingers still. She stared at the words, something bitter blooming behind her ribs. Then she typed, slowly, like the question had been sitting on her tongue for a while- because it had.

Bunny : What is this

Bunny : What even is 'this' Rafe?

Read

The air in the car felt heavy now. Thick with silence and words that would never be spoken aloud. She watched the screen for a beat. Then two. Then five. The beats turned into a minute but still there was no response from him so her fingers moved again of their own accord.

Bunny : seriously

Bunny : Leaving me on read are you being for real

Bunny : Hello?

Still.

No answer.

Her mouth twisted into a scoff, this one sharper. Less disbelief and more hurt. She leaned her head back against the seat, her knuckles white where she clutched the phone. She could feel it bubbling now- not anger, not really. Just… disappointment. That familiar ache that curled into her chest when something started to crack and she knew she couldn’t fix it. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she typed one last time.

Bunny : Grow up Rafe

Then she dropped the phone into the empty cup holder with a soft clack and her hands came up, pressing into her face, covering her eyes. She let out a breath- long and slow and quiet. She didn’t even know what this was anymore, or what she wanted it to be.

All she knew was that it hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bass was thumping hard enough to make the floorboards vibrate. Music roared from massive speakers set up on the back patio of the mansion, spilling into every corner of the sprawling beach house like a pulse. The crowd was thick—Kooks and Pogues alike stood packed shoulder to shoulder, laughing, grinding, shouting over the noise. Red solo cups littered the deck, the grass, the kitchen counters. Half-empty bottles of liquor sat abandoned on tables, the scent of alcohol and sweat clinging to the humid air. Inside, the lighting was low and tinted gold, shadows dancing as bodies moved through the house, more people flooded through the front door- new arrivals, drawn in by the promise of booze and the thrill of recklessness that always hung thick in the air.

Rafe was in the middle of it, standing near the table on the backyard patio where a lineup of liquor bottles had turned into a makeshift bar. His button-down was half undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, collar a little askew. He reached for another shot, his fingers curled tight around the glass rim as he knocked it back, throat bobbing as the burn slid down. “Bro,” Kelce said, squinting as he leaned forward, voice slurred with the edge of tipsy concern.

“I never do this but- maybe slow down a little”

“That’s like, your seventh” Topper added from where he was slouched against the couch, a beer dangling between his fingers.

“You good man?”

“I’m fine”

Rafe muttered, his voice low, gruff, and not even remotely convincing. His jaw flexed as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his damp forehead. He didn’t look at either of them as he spoke but he wasn’t fine. Not even close. His head was heavy, the alcohol catching up to him in a sluggish crawl through his limbs. He could feel it in his slow, unsteady blink. In the weight of his shoulders, in the way the music felt a little too loud, a little too sharp.

She wasn’t here- Y/N wasn’t here.

And he hated that it mattered. Hated that he kept glancing toward the front door every time someone new walked in- just in case she'd changed her mind. Hated that he could hear her voice in the back of his mind. “I can’t go, your sister’s going to be there” ... “JJ will be there” ... “He’ll see us.” His jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, the burn of the liquor lingering in his chest. She was always so damn concerned about JJ, about keeping him in the dark- about keeping them in the dark.

Like this is all some secret she needs to protect.

Topper was saying something again, laughing about a girl he’d hooked up with last weekend, but Rafe didn’t hear it. He was staring at the countertop, where drops of clear liquor beaded on the marble surface. His hand was still fisted around the empty shot glass. He looked like a storm waiting to happen- cheeks a little flushed, eyes shadowed and distant, lip twitching at the corner in a scowl. But under it all, he was sulking. Quietly. Bitterly. Like a kid who didn’t get what he wanted.

And all he wanted was her.

The rumble of the Twinkie pulling up was swallowed by the thump of music echoing off the walls of the massive house. Lights flashing inside spilled through the tall windows in bursts that lit up the manicured lawn and the stretch of cars already jammed up along the curb. The Pogues piled out- John B leading the charge in his usual messy curls with Sarah right on his heels, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo. JJ slammed the passenger door shut with his hip, shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose cargo shorts, eyes flicking over the crowd on the lawn before following- Pope, Kiara and Cleo weren’t far behind.

The house was huge. Open floor plan, high ceilings, the kind of kitchen you only saw on cooking shows. People were everywhere—on the stairs, pressed against walls, spilling onto balconies. It smelled like weed and citrus vodka, and someone in the hallway was definitely already throwing up. “Damn,” John B muttered as they walked in, eyebrows raised.

“This place is nice.”

“No shit”

Pope said, already eyeing the built-in speakers in the ceiling. Cleo let out a low whistle and made a beeline for the massive kitchen island, where liquor bottles and mixers lined the counters like a buffet. She said with a grin, snatching a bottle of rum and starting to pour,

“The free alcohol is even nicer”

“Now this is why I dragged you guys here..’.”

Sarah laughed, reaching over to help herself to a half-mixed drink and Kiara grabbed a couple of plastic cups, handing them around. The music rattled the cabinets, the floor under their shoes vibrating faintly in time with the beat. People were dancing in the next room, someone yelling something about beer pong from the backyard, but the Pogues took a moment to regroup in the kitchen. JJ stood a bit apart from the group, back braced against the counter, swirling whatever was in his cup without really drinking it. His hat was pulled low, hair curling beneath the brim, and there was a little pinch between his brows that hadn’t faded since they arrived. Kiara noticed first. She nudged him gently with her elbow, tilting her head toward him.

“She’s not coming then?”

JJ blinked, not catching the question right away over the music.

“Huh?”

“Y/N- she’s not coming?”

Sarah repeated, louder this time, looking up from her drink. JJ’s expression tightened for a split second, and he looked down into his cup like it suddenly had answers. “Nah,” he said, voice clipped.

“She’s not.”

There was something in the way he said it in a short and flat tone, a little irritated like he didn’t want to care, but he did. Kiara gave a small nod and didn’t press. Instead, she reached out, rubbed his arm gently with her hand before stepping away to help Pope crack open a bottle of something suspiciously blue. No one said anything else. But in the middle of the crowd, under the flashing lights and the pounding bass, JJ stood a little stiller than the rest. Eyes drifting toward the front door they'd came through like maybe- just maybe- she’d still show.

Rafe shoved his way through the backyard, the lights and thumping music cutting through the cool air like a heavy pulse. He could feel the tension in his chest, the tightness that hadn’t loosened since their texts earlier... "What is this"... That question had been eating at him ever since because he didn't know what it was. But that didn't change the fact that his mind kept circling back to her. The way she made him feel, how easy it was to talk to her, how easy it was to just be around her- it wasn’t like anything he'd ever experienced. And it scared him. Because he wasn’t the kind of guy to get tangled up in feelings, he didn’t do that. But Y/N, she was different- it unsettled him. He couldn’t admit that to her, though. Couldn’t let her know that she was getting under his skin, into his bloodstream like a drug, that she was getting too close.

By the time he made it through the crowd and into the kitchen, he was ready for another drink, maybe more than one. The sound of glass bottles clinking and people chatting loudly barely registered in his mind as he reached the counter, eyes scanning the chaos for what he needed. He was almost there, his hand reaching for the first bottle of vodka, when he collided with someone.

Thud

He didn’t even flinch, just kept moving forward until he heard a sharp, annoyed voice.

“Excuse me?”

Rafe’s shoulder had shoved into Sarah, causing her to stumble back just a little. She glared up at him, her eyes narrowing with irritation. He didn’t care and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for small talk with her.

“You’re excused”

He muttered back, not even bothering to meet her eyes as he grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off.

“Asshole”

Sarah muttered under her breath, clearly unamused, but Rafe wasn’t listening. He poured the liquor into his cup with a steady hand, watching the clear liquid slosh into the glass. The burn in his throat might’ve been the only thing that could numb the frustration gnawing at him. He downed it in one go, feeling it course through his body. Rafe stood near the edge of the kitchen, the alcohol still burning in his stomach as he surveyed the crowd. The noise was becoming a dull roar in the background, a blur of laughter and shouting, but his mind was still running on autopilot. He tried to focus on his drink, twisting the glass in his hand, but then something caught his ear.

JJ

He was talking to John B, and it didn’t take long for Rafe to hear the frustration in his voice. JJ’s words carried across the room, loud enough for Rafe to pick up on.

“I don’t get it bro”

JJ was saying, his voice edged with something close to bitterness already lightly slurred from the alcohol he consumed since they arrived, “Y/N’s always working. Always dude. It’s like- I literally got a job so she could work less? And she still can’t make time for anything. Not for me. Not for us. She's always got some lame ass excuse.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened at the sound of JJ’s voice, and he instinctively stepped closer to the conversation, the growing frustration in his chest gnawing at him. He watched as JJ’s face twisted, anger bubbling up in his expression.

“She’s never around anymore. Like, she’s always somewhere else, doing something else. It’s like she doesn't care- You know what? Maybe it’s just me she doesn’t want to spend time with maybe I’m just a fucking inconvenience to her.”

John B shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, but he didn’t know how to respond. He just nodded slowly, not really agreeing or disagreeing as he brought his beer bottle to his lips. Rafe’s pulse spiked. His chest felt tight, and for a moment, the room seemed to narrow around him. His fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles went white.

He was angry.

No, he was beyond angry.

He could feel the heat rising in his body, but it wasn’t just because of JJ’s words. It was the way he was talking about Y/N, so dismissively, so coldly. The kitchen was still a chaotic blend of chatter and clinking glass, the music vibrating through the floor, and the air thick with alcohol. But his mind wasn’t on the drink anymore. It was on her—on Y/N. On the way she would slave away all day in her shitty job only to go home to a brother who wasn't even grateful? He could hear JJ’s voice cutting through the noise of the house, loud and full of venom. Rafe turned, just in time to catch the words.

“Acting like she’s such a good fuckin’ sister,” JJ spat, his words as he gestured around. “When she can’t even take the time out of her day to talk to me. It’s a fuckin’ jok, man..”

John B was still next to him, leaning against the counter, his eyes tired, clearly not wanting to get involved in the growing tension. But he let out a soft sigh and said,

“Come on, man. You’re being a little harsh she does a lot for you-”

“-No. I’m not,”

But JJ wasn’t having it. His face twisted into a mix of frustration and bitterness. “She doesn't give a damn about anyone but herself," he snapped, his voice louder now.

"She’s a shitty fuckin’ sister.”

Rafe could feel the anger bubbling up in his chest. He was barely holding it together at this point. His hand clenched around his glass, and without thinking, he pushed himself away from where he was and made his way towards the blonde haired pogue,“Hey-” Rafe’s voice was rough, his jaw tightening,

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

JJ didn’t even hesitate as his brow furrowed, his head snapping toward Rafe, his eyes narrowing. The smirk on his face was all cocky arrogance, like he wasn’t the least bit intimidated. Rafe stood in front of JJ, his fists clenched so tightly around the edge of the counter that his knuckles were turning white. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the alcohol in his system only amplifying the frustration that had been simmering for hours.

"You really think you know your sister?"

Rafe's voice cut through the tension like a blade, each word laced with disbelief and a deepening anger. His gaze was intense, narrowing as he stared down at JJ, his stance aggressive and unsteady from the booze. JJ didn’t flinch, instead, he scoffed, the sound dripping with disdain.

“Yeah, well, what the fuck do you know about her?”

The words were laced with spite, his eyes flashing as he shot back, barely holding back his irritation. He was drunk, way too much to back down. The space between them was closing, both of them leaning in slightly, their bodies tense as if they were about to collide. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes flickered between JJ’s face and the rest of the room. John B was already sighing, rubbing his hand over his face, clearly feeling the impending collision. His tone was a little exasperated.

“Alright, guys... let's not do this tonight.”

But his words were barely a whisper in the whirlwind of tension between JJ and Rafe. They didn't take their eyes off each other. Rafe stood his ground, every inch of his body radiating the anger and frustration he’d been holding back all night. His expression twisted into something cold, nasty, as his voice came out low, almost a growl.

"A lot more than you"

He spat, the words dripping with contempt. JJ’s eyes flared with fury, and before anyone fully processed the insult, his body reacted. Without thinking, he shoved Rafe, a rough, sudden motion that sent the air between them crackling.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His words were sharp, cutting through the already tense atmosphere like a knife. The crowd around them seemed to gather and the only thing that mattered now seemed to be this confrontation, the two of them standing face to face, inches away from an explosion. Rafe’s jaw clenched, his teeth gritting as he stumbled back just a half-step from the shove. But he didn’t let it slide, his eyes burned with rage, and with a brutal shove of his own, he sent JJ stumbling back.

“Get off me, you dirty fucking pogue”

He snarled, his voice a low rasp. John B and Pope, sensing the situation spiraling, rushed in to intervene, but their voices only seemed to intensify the already-fueled fire.

“Hey, hey—alright JJ stop."

“C’mon man”

John B called out, his tone a mix of frustration and concern, his hand on JJ’s arm trying to pull him back. But JJ, his face red with anger, ignored them, shoving them off as if they were nothing. His eyes were locked on Rafe, his fists trembling with barely contained rage. Sarah, standing nearby, caught sight of the escalating tension and turned to Rafe with an incredulous expression.

“What is your problem?”

She spoke out her voice sharp as he brows drew down into a concerned frown, but Rafe didn’t even glance at her. His attention was fully on JJ, the hate between them palpable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the entire kitchen watching in stunned interest as the two guys stood their postures defiant, aggressive. JJ, unable to take the weight of the situation anymore, spun on his heel and began to turn away, his anger boiling over, his fists still clenched with popes hand on his arm leading him away. But Rafe’s voice, cutting through the tense silence, sliced through the air like a final verdict.

“I pity her for having a brother like you”

He said, the words slow and deliberate, aimed to sting. The room went deathly quiet apart from a few low mutters, and for a split second and the words hung in the air like a curse. JJ froze, his back to Rafe, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His body went rigid, the hurt flashing in his eyes as he clenched his jaw tighter. Kiara’s voice came through softly, but it was too late.

“JJ don’t”

She pleaded, but JJ had already turned and with a motion of pure, unfiltered anger, he threw a punch, his fist flying straight at Rafe’s face with all the pent-up rage he’d been holding back. The force behind it was hard enough to knock Rafe off balance, and in that moment, the air around them seemed to explode. Everything that had been building up, the tension, the anger, the frustration- finally came to a head.

And just like that, the fight erupted.

The air was thick with the sounds of punches landing, grunts of pain, and the occasional slap of skin against skin. People's previous murmuring had turned to excited yells and cheers, phones being raised as they recorded the ordeal. JJ’s vision was red, every inch of his body screamed as he threw wild punches, each one landing with force, but Rafe was no slouch- he met every hit with a violent shove or a retaliatory strike of his own. JJ's jaw was clenched tight as he pushed against Rafe, throwing a punch that caught him square in the ribs, causing the other man to grunt in pain. Rafe staggered but didn’t fall, instead grabbing JJ’s shirt and yanking him forward with a growl. Their faces were inches apart, both of them breathing heavily, sweat and blood mixing, the scent of alcohol clouding the air. Rafe’s eyes were wild, his face contorted with anger as he bit out the words through gritted teeth, each syllable harsh and slurred.

“If you love your sister so much, why is she always running to me when she’s got problems, huh?”

His grip tightened on JJ’s shirt, pulling him in closer, their faces just inches from one another. His words were cold, bitter. JJ blinked, his mind struggling to process what Rafe just said. His nostrils flared as his nose dripped blood, a line of crimson streaking down his face. JJ’s voice was a low growl, disoriented, the anger still there but replaced by confusion.

“What?”

“That’s what I thought”

Rafe sneered, a harsh laugh falling from his lips, his bloodshot eyes alight with a murderous glint. JJ’s fury surged again, his face lit with rage as his eyes narrowed, locking onto Rafe’s smug expression. Without warning, he launched himself forward, his head connecting with Rafe’s face in a brutal headbutt. The impact was sickening- Rafe’s head snapped back violently, and a grunt escaped him. He staggered back a step, dazed, blood oozing from his busted lip.

Rafe didn’t back down, he shoved JJ with both hands, sending him stumbling back a few steps. The two of them were back at it in an instant, their bodies crashing together, fists flying in every direction. JJ’s elbow connected with Rafe’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Rafe faltered this time, falling backward, his balance compromised. He hit the ground hard, the floor beneath him rattling. For a split second, the fight paused. Rafe lay there, stunned, his chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch his breath. But JJ was already on him, a feral grunt escaping his throat as he scrambled to pin Rafe down. He grabbed Rafe’s polo top, yanking him up to his face, his grip like iron. His chest was heaving, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged gasps as he leaned in close, his face twisted in disgust.

“Don’t fucking talk about my sister like you know her- you don't know anything about her- you don't know her like I do.”

JJ snarled, his voice low and seething. His words were laced with every ounce of hurt, frustration, and protective anger he could muster. Rafe’s head lolled back for a moment, his eyes glazed and unfocused from the blows. He let out a drunken, mocking scoff, a bitter chuckle escaping from his busted lips. His mouth was smeared with blood, but the sneer on his face was unmistakable, even through the haze of intoxication. He muttered so only the blonde boy could hear, the words sharp, but somehow quieter than before.

“You didn’t even know she was pregnant”

The entire world seemed to stop in that instant.

JJ's grip slackened, his fingers loosening around Rafe’s shirt and his chest tightened as the words hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him in an instant. John B and Pope, who had been trying to pull the two apart for the last few moments, finally managed to tear JJ off Rafe. JJ didn’t resist this time, his body felt stiff like stone, his mind struggling to catch up with what he just heard. Rafe lay on the floor, barely able to lift his head, but his voice, now quieter and almost hollow, drifted through the space between them. “Yeah,” he said, his words slow and deliberate,

“She didn’t tell you, JJ. She came to me.”

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―୨୧⋆˚ He's in love with a single mom :: James Kelly

I never thought someone like you would come into my life. Someone who wouldn't look at me and just see my past—someone who actually saw me for who I am now. But then you showed up.

You walked into the shop needing a tire change, and instead of just standing there awkwardly or giving me the usual polite bullshit, you actually talked to me. Just small talk at first, but damn if that didn’t turn into something more. Before I knew it, we were grabbing lunch at some rundown diner, and then one day, I finally grew a pair and asked you out. Didn't expect you to actually say yes, but hell, you did.

That first date—small Italian joint, nothing fancy—but sitting across from you, watching you talk, laugh… I was gone. Hooked. So, I kissed you. Right there, first date, no hesitation. And it wasn’t just a kiss—it was the kiss. The kind that sticks with you. And from that night on, it was you and me.

You were everything. A single mom busting your ass every damn day while your ex sat on his, doing the bare minimum. But you didn’t let that break you. And your little girl—God, she was something else. Sweet, tough, full of life. Took me a minute, but I grew to love her like my own.

You both became my world. The one thing I’d do anything for. You made me feel like more than just some guy with a record, and I made damn sure to show you what it really meant to be loved. To be protected. That little girl? She latched onto me quick. And I didn’t mind one bit. I’d go to war for the both of you without a second thought.

When I wasn’t working, I was with you. Always. Couldn’t stand being away longer than I had to. Nights like this, lying in bed, my arm wrapped tight around you, your body curled up against mine, breathing steady, peaceful. I just laid there, staring at you—at the way your hair spread out on the pillow, how damn beautiful you looked even in sleep.

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YELLOWJACKETS 203. Digestif / 301. It Girl / 303. Thems The Brakes / 310. Full Circle

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. on the run,

summary. you're being chased by a werewolf and holy hell! werewolves are real!

pairing. dean winchester x civilian!reader genre. fluffy

wordcount. 529

The thing chasing you is not human.

You don’t know what it is, but people don’t run on all fours like that. People don’t snarl like that—low and guttural, vibrating in your bones. And people sure as hell don’t have glowing yellow eyes that catch the light like a predator.

Your lungs burn as you sprint through the woods, dodging trees, stumbling over roots. Your pulse is a wild thing, hammering in your throat, your ears. The town bar had been warm, safe, normal. A couple of drinks. A walk home. You didn’t expect—this.

Branches snap behind you. It’s gaining.

You risk a glance over your shoulder and instantly regret it.

Too close. Too fast.

You’re not gonna make it.

A flash of silver—gunfire.

You duck on instinct as something whistles through the air, followed by a sickening thunk.

A man steps out of the darkness. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, all leather and rough edges, a gun still raised in his hands. The werewolf—because, holy shit, that’s a werewolf—lets out a strangled howl before dropping like a sack of bricks, the silver bullet lodged deep in its skull.

Silence. Your breath heaves in the aftermath, your legs wobbling like a newborn deer.

The man exhales, rolling his shoulders like this is just another Tuesday. He spins the gun, tucks it into the back of his jeans, then turns to you with the kind of slow, assessing look that makes your stomach flip.

"You okay?" he asks. His voice is low, rough—gravel wrapped in honey.

You blink at him. Open your mouth. Close it. Then gesture wildly to the very dead monster a few feet away.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"

He winces. "Okay. So. Bad news? That was a werewolf. Good news? It’s dead."

"Werewolves aren’t real," you say automatically, brain still playing catch-up.

He snorts. "Try telling that to him."

You stare at him, then back at the corpse. The fur is already receding, limbs twisting back into something almost human. Your stomach turns.

"What—what the hell is going on?"

Leather Jacket Guy tilts his head, eyes sharp, unreadable. Then, like a switch, his face softens—just a little. "You from around here?"

You nod, still catching your breath.

"You alone?"

"Uh. Not anymore?"

That gets a grin out of him, small but cocky as hell. He extends a hand. "Dean Winchester."

You take it, hesitantly. His grip is warm, solid. "…Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeats, like he’s testing the sound of it. "Alright, Y/N. Hate to break it to you, but the world’s a little weirder than you thought."

"No shit," you deadpan, which makes him chuckle.

The sound does something weird to your stomach.

Dean glances back at the body, then back at you. His expression shifts, that easy grin dimming just a little. "You should come with me. Just for tonight. Lay low, let me explain some things."

You should say no. You should scream, run, pretend none of this happened. But you just watched a man turn into a monster, and this guy—this Dean—saved your life like it was nothing.

You swallow hard, meeting his gaze.

"…You got whiskey?"

Dean grins. "Sweetheart, I got the whole bottle."

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slow ride, randall floyd

genre: smut

pairings: randall “pink” floyd x afab!reader

summary: a late night drive with randy floyd turns into a teenage dream.

“man i totally forgot we went to the same junior high man.” pink spoke, shaking his head and laughing a bit. he rested his free hand on car tray, picking up the joint you had lit. you two were currently driving down the practically empty freeway, just letting the wind in your face and some music play through his car’s speaker.

“who would’ve thought that i, randall pink floyd, would you be here, smoking a joint at midnight with the class of ‘77’s valedictorian? that’s crazy.”

you giggled a bit as you watched a car zip by. you and pink never really talked but you both ran into each other while party hopping and had been smoking in his car since and he was a cool dude. “we aren’t much different.” this was the first time you ever got to talk to him for real, and in the few short hours you were getting to greatly enjoy pink’s company. he was fun to talk to and nice to look at.

“we aren’t much different?” pink asked after taking a hit. he passed it back to you and took an exit. he then began to pull into an empty parking lot behind a closed down restaurant just off the highway. the top to his convertible was off, allowing the both of you to feel the slightly chill of a cool breeze whipping past your face due to the tall green trees that surrounded you.

he rested his arm that was on the wheel on the door of the car, looking at the trees in front of you in an almost deep thought. “you are the valedictorian..never seen at parties. never seen smoking a J. never caught dead in the bathroom with a cigarette. i didn’t even know you smoked!”

“it’s the 70s. who doesn’t smoke?” you shrugged, taking another hit and letting it flow out your mouth. the air felt so nice and the soft sounds of crickets chirping was so relaxing.

he nodded. “true. but still, you were kind of distant. just far off.”

you nodded slightly, recalling your last four years at lee high and acknowledging the slight solitude you allowed yourself to live in.

“i wasn’t a complete stranger, pink. we just ran in different circles, that’s all.” you shrugged again, why did he care so much about this?

“i ran in every circle-” he began but you cut him off with a laugh.

“but never to me!” you spoke. you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to pink fully. “i’m friends with cynthia, mike and tony. i played poker with them all the time. you were there, you never spoke to me. i kind of just thought you just didn’t like me.” there was a slight teasing tone in your voice that made him lean a little closer to you.

pink denied this, shaking his head “that’s not it. i was just scared.”

“scared?” you laughed, “of what!”

“of you!” he laughed back. “you terrified me!”

you looked at him like he was crazy. “i terrified you?”

“yes,” he exasperated. “don’t look at me like that, you’re intimidating! you’re smart and you know what you want in life, you don’t take shit from anyone and you’re talented. you’re making it out of this town. i just thought you were great and it made me realize i wanna be great too.”

how did this drive turn into a compliment session? you smiled at him, slipping out of your heels and curling your legs up onto the passenger seat. pink watched you hug your knees and lean forwards to him. “if you think i’m so great then how come you never talked to me? intimidating or not, what did you have to lose?”

“yeah right. then i’d say some stupid jock shit and just embarrass myself in front of the pretty girl.” his tone was laced with sarcasm and he turned away from you and back to the steering wheel, almost putting the car in drive.

“you think i’m pretty?”

he laughed and took his hands off the wheel, turning back to face you. he leaned closer to you, looking at your lips and then back into your dazed eyes. “i think you’re pretty.” he confirmed like a common known fact. “i think you’re really sexy too. in this, smart and beautiful way. this powerful way. you walk into a room and people stare at you. you’re captivating. what’s not pretty about that? come on y/n, you know you’re the shit. act like it.”

you put the joint down on the ashtray and looked at pink before pulling him into a kiss by his jaw, running a thumb over his cheekbone. your lips moved against his slowly and you couldn’t beleive you were kissing randall floyd right now. “i always liked you, pink.” you muttered against his soft lips. “i always did.”

“really?” he asked after slowly pulling away from the kiss. he looked you up and down.

“yeah.” you nodded and laughed a little as he moved some hair out your face, something about that gave you butterflies.

“when did you like me?”

you cringed stay the answer you had to his question. “7th grade english class, you sat at the table over and i stared at you so hard that period i almost failed the class.” you laughed recalling how mad your mom was when you told her you’re failing english because you can’t stop looking at the cute baseball player at the next table.

“well, if it’s any consolation i flunked bio twice on purpose so they’d make you help me make up lab hours and i could be near you.” he put his arm behind your head rest and smiled at you. he was being serious.

your jaw fell slightly. “really? god pink you’re such a loser.” you giggled, smiling fondly at him.

“yeah,” he nodded. “i am.”

you shook your head. “think about how much time we wasted. i literally swore i was gonna marry you in 8th grade.”

“really?” he laughed.

“really!” you scooted closer to him and he watched your movements. “i wanted to fuck you so bad when i was younger.” you whispered the last sentence even though no one was around to hear you.

pink’s mouth slowly fell open. “..what?”

“why are you so shocked?”

“man i thought you just liked me. i didn’t know you wanted to do it.” his voice was pure confusion and shock.

you laughed and shook your head, turning away from him and looking at the trees in front of the car again. “guys are so stupid.”

“hey!”

“seriously pink? you didn’t know i wanted to have sex with you?” you turned your head to meet his utterly shocked face.

“i didn’t! frankly i didn’t know girls wanted to have sex at that point. when we were in high school i kind of figured that out but i never would’ve guessed that you of all people would’ve wanted me like that.”

you shrugged. “i still want you like that.”

the music stopped abruptly and you looked over to see pink pulling the keys out of the ignition and tucking them into his pocket. he stared out the window at the trees like you we’re doing before.

“get in the backseat.”

“what?” you laughed a little, leaning back in absolute shock at the bold statement. you felt the need to clench your thighs, your heart was beating a bit faster and your mouth had gotten sort of dry. there is was again, that school girl pining from junior high that followed you through high school. in the back of your mind, you never stopped like him.

“what.. what do you mean?” you babbled like a complete idiot. he smirked at you.

“i mean shut up,” he leaned over to you and then pressed a kiss to your lips. “turn around,” he kissed you again, “and get your ass in the backseat so i can fuck the shit out of you.”

you jaw dropped and he smiled at you. he could tell you’d never been spoken to like how he just had. truth be told, yeah you had sex once or twice in your entire high school career, but it was just so lame and you hadn’t found anyone else you wanted to fuck. the town was small. pink however was a desire through most of your teen years, you had started liking the boy all the way in 7th grade.

you climbed over the seats until you were in the back. pink he kicked off his shoes and crawled back there to you, he then moved next to where you were sat. his hands flew to your waist and you began kissing him, excited to see what he would do to you.

“i’ve always wanted you, y/n.” pink spoke in the kiss. his lips were the softest. “even in junior high.” he placed soft kisses down the right side of your neck earning a breathy moan. “fuck i had it bad for you then.” with closed eyes you hummed at what he was saying to you. pink was good at this, he knew how to talk to you in ways that were sure to make you wet.

you gasped as his you were being pulled on to his lap and he began to suck a hickey on to your collarbone. his hands slowly unzipped your jeans, giving you time to back out before pulling them off with ease and rubbing to fingers against your clothed pussy. “i would go home from baseball practice and think about you all night. wouldn’t get any sleep, just think about you and wonder what it’d be like to kiss you, touch you, taste you, fuck you.”

“pink-” you gasped at the sudden attention to your clit. he could definitely hear his fast your heart was beating

“i would have dreams about you...” pink muttered, slipping his hands into your panties. he rubbed your lips with two fingers before gently slipping one inside you. “you’re so wet.” he went back to kissing your lips, slowly pumping and curling one finger inside you. when felt your body relax a bit more, began to rotate his thumb on your puffy clit.

it was almost pathetic how your fucked your hips to meet his hand, you could feel his smile against your lips when you did this. “need me?” pink asked, kissing your jaw. he added another finger and curled them, pulling them out and slamming them back in a little rougher than he had done before. a moan escaped your lips as he began to hit an entirely different angle, a spot that made you clench around his fingers. you put your face into pinks neck, kissing it in attempt to hide your whimpers but you couldn’t. the more you tried to hide them the faster he fingered you.

“come on, let it out baby. i wanna hear you.” he slipped a third finger inside which made you absolutely lose your mind. you whined, pulling up from his neck and tossing your head back. his fingers fucked into you at a fast pace, calloused thumb circling your clit as your hands gripped on to his red shirt. you were basically riding his fingers. it was so desperate and needy like he had said.

“i’m gonna cum.” you let out another whine, sort losing control of your body and falling forward on his chest. pink sped up the motion on his fingers, holding your hip in his hand and coaxing you through your orgasm. you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him as you came all over his fingers. he slowly helped you ride out your orgasm, pulling his three fingers out slowly and making you whimper at the lost of contant.

you caught your breath and leaned back, watching as pink took her fingers and licked them clean. you clenched your thighs again and moved off his lap, opting to sit next to him. the two guys you fucked before never really fingered you before sex, it was always after when they failed to make you finish.

pink moved his fingers to his lips, sucking on them to taste you. your jaw fell a little and shock. you’d never seen someone do this.

you turned to press your back against the side of the car and grabbed his collar, pulling him into a kiss. your legs spread a bit, allowing him to crawl between them. the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against your pussy called your body to twitch a bit. pink noted it and smiled. you began to unbutton the boy’s red shirt, pulling it off to reveal his toned chest underneath.

you looked him up and down before running a hand across his chest. “i want you in me.”

he smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “soon, not yet. lie down.” pink grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it off and gazing at the way your boobs sat.

“you’re so pretty.” he muttered, beginning to kiss and suck your left boob while playing with the right. the way his calloused fingers rolled harshly against your nipples made you push your chest forward, wanting more from him. he kissed down your stomach, moving your legs apart and leaning down until he was face to face with your pussy.

pink took his time with you, he was in no rush. he slowly kissed up and down your thighs, nipping them at some point just to keep you excited. he brought his lips to your pussy, kissing your clit before licking a stripe up your pussy. you moaned softly and relaxed a bit, his heavy tongue was soft and slowly as he began to eat you out.

your head clouded a bit as your hand reached up to grip the seatbelt holder behind you. pink moved his face up slightly, circling his tongue on your clit before taking it into his mouth. your back immediately arched at the way he sucked on your clit. his eyes were closed in deep concentration, listening to every moan you made.

“fuck, just like that.” you moaned, reaching your free hand down to tug at him hair. you pulled his face closer to your pussy, grinding against him and showing him how you wanted to be eaten.

his hands squeezed at your boobs for a moment before gripping your hips. pink opened his lips from around your clit and flicked his tongue at it for a few seconds before sticking his tongue inside your pussy.

another moan spilled from your lips and you pushed him head up and down, using his face to get off. he thought it was so hot, the way you took control and used his face to please yourself. you came again, this time on his face and with a shiver.

you both pulled away to catch your breath, that was your second orgasm of the night in a very short time. the cool air tussled pink’s hair as he looked at you with pure lust and adoration in his eyes. you flipped over to your stomach, closing your eyes and taking a second to catch your breath again.

“we’re not done.” pink spoke. your turned your head slightly to see him from your peripheral vision. there was the russle of papers before felt hit fingers hit a small square. he showed you and you nodded your head, giving him unspoken consent to do as he said. fuck the shit out of you.

your heard him pull his belt off and saw it tossed on the floor, next the tug of his pants and boxers. finally, both of you were naked.

pink rolled the condom on to his dick, you hadn’t turned to see it so you had no idea how much was about to go inside of him. he saw your body stiffen as he mounted you.

“relax,” he leaned up, moving your leg to get a better angle of your pussy. pink moved hair from the left side of your neck, kissing slowly down your neck and back. “i got you.” he grabbed your hips, putting your legs to spread on either side of his body so he could fuck you with more control.

he lined himself up with your entrance before pushing in and making you take a shallow gasp. pink ran his hands up and down your back to try and help you relax.

“you feel so fucking good.” he muttered softly, playing with your ass. he sat in your for a second before pulling out and pushing back in again. this time you moaned a little and he could feel your body relax again.

pink began to set in at a slow pace, bringing his hips to your ass with every stroke. he let out soft groans with every other thrust he gave, quickening his pace a little bit as your pussy gripped around him.

“that feel good?” he asked in an almost teasing tone, leaning forward on your body and pressing himself against you as his hips continued to move against yours. you twitched underneath him, biting your lip in pure bliss at the angle he was hitting.

you could only let out a mumbled moan of pleasure as you closed your eyes. pink laughed a bit, pulling your hips up to bring you into doggy style. his hand went to your hair, tugging it back and beginning to fuck you much harder.

losing strength in your arms, you left your body dropped and your face push up against the mirror. he felt go of your hair and moved his hands back to your ass, rubbing it slightly before slapping it. you let out a straggled moan, “pink, fuck. do it again.” you whined, earning another slap on the ass.

you moaned loudly in pain, face now smushed against his window. pink laughed and you moved your hand down to your pussy, beginning to play with your clit. his thrusts sped up and the only thing you could think about was how good he filled you up. how perfect his cock fit in your pussy and how good he fucked you.

you felt tears brim at your eyes when he moved your hand away, beginning to stimulate your clit for you. he used his other free hand to play with your nipple. so much was happening at once and you couldn’t even warn pink before you came around him with a sigh. you felt bad, he had made you finish three times and you couldn’t even wait long enough for him to catch his release.

“ ‘m sorry.” you muttered. he laughed a little and slowly pulled out of you.

“it’s okay.” pink sat on the seat, putting his head back as you both collected yourselves slightly. you crawled over to pink, sitting in his lap and straddling his waist.

he looked at you immediately, putting his hands on your hips and drumming fingers against your skin.

“i thought about you too. you reached behind you and gently touched pink’s cock, stroking it slowly as you moved it to like you with your entrance.

you dragged the head back and forth between your folds. “i wanted to jump your bones. then high school came and i saw you in the football uniform.” you both let out a groan as you sunk on to him, ass now pressed against his balls.

you dragged your hips back and forth, bouncing on his cock. pink’s eyes fluttered close and he pressed his lips together, breath heavier than before. you decided to mimic him. you used your hand to tilt his head forward to you. he opened his eyes when he felt your thumb brush against his lips. “come on, let it out baby. i wanna hear you. i wanna hear your pretty moans.”

pink moaned at your words immediately making you give yourself a proud smile. your core and thighs burned, and your pussy felt overstimulated but it didn’t matter. he had fucked the shit out of you so now you were returning the favor.

“the girls and i used to have chats after your games, each talking about how they wanted to fuck you.” you smoothed your hands over his chest. “they said so many dirty things about you, pink. i was thinking the same things as them.” you giggled at the way his hips rutted to your body. he was fucking himself into you.

“now i’m here in the backseat of your car riding you, and you feel so fucking good.”

pink let out a broken moan. “please y/n- fucking- shit!” you let out a yelp when both his arms wrapped around you and lifted you up with ease. he pressed your back against the front seat which folded forward, immediately allowing him to climb on top of you. he threw your leg over his shoulder, slamming his hips into yours. his eyes were closed and his lips were parted, saying your name like a prayer.

“fuck i’m cumming.” he moaned. pink’s thrusts soon became messier as both of you came together. there was a moment of silence, the only sound being your uneven breaths and the crickets of the night. pink’s face was pressed into your neck and your arms hugged him to your body. he was keeping you warm on the cool night.

“…did i really just have sex with the quarterback in the back of an el camino?” you asked yourself out loud. staring at the sky.

“did i really just have sex with the valedictorian in the back of my el camino?” he muttered from the side of your neck. you both laughed and stayed like that for another moment before he pulled out of you.

“that was the best sex i’ve ever had.” pink breathed, looking around the car to find his clothes.

you smiled. “really?” he was an attractive guy so definitely had girls in bed before.

he nodded and pressed a kiss to your lips. “really. do you wanna drive around and get some breakfast?” he knew the sex was better because of the previous crush he had on you and how much chemistry you two had.

you nodded. “there’s a lake just pass the trees. wanna freshen up first?”

pink looked at you. “are you asking me to go skinnydipping with you into the lake?”

you nodded.

he smiled. “definitely.”

you two grabbed your clothes, took your keys and headed down to lake. the cool water refreshed you both and you got a good look at the sunrise. usually after sex it was kind of awkward, but with pink it was fun. the two of you swam around the lake, giving each other kisses and playing around until finally deciding to get out.

you both got dry and got dressed, smoking another joint on the way to a diner near the center of town. undoubtedly, both your friend groups were there, each nursing some kind of hangover or ache from the wild night before.

you sat in the booth next to pink, a cup of hot chocolate in your hand. you took a sip and then rested your head in his shoulder, giving a content sigh and closing your eyes.

“tired?” he asked, looking at you.

“very. you?”

he shrugged. “for you? i could go another round.”

you laughed and snuggled into him closer. pink put his hand in your thigh, rubbing it up and down before holding your hand and pulling it on to his lap. he kissed the side of your temple and allowed you to fall asleep on him whilst your friends chatted around you. it was peaceful.

maybe.. just an idea.. will beeman with a young wife 🥺

WILL BEEMAN X YOUNG!WIFE

WARNING: at a certain point there is sexual content

A/N: hii, baby, i love the request, Will is a underrated character, i love him so much. I didn't know if you want headcanon or a fic, so, i wrote this, hope you enjoyed ;)

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED!!

• You met at a city hall charity gala. Will, as a famous and influential businessman in the city, was invited to lend his support. The moment he first laid eyes on you, the words disappeared from his mouth. He tightened his grip on his champagne glass, his gaze fixed on you as the mayor proudly announced you as the newest prosecutor.  • Will wasted no time seeking you out to congratulate you. During your conversation, he discovered that you had just graduated from college and carried the fiery ambition of someone eager to change the world. You wanted to fight for those who couldn't afford legal representation and free the wrongly accused. Your unwavering sense of justice fascinated him. Perhaps your methods differed, but your goals aligned: ridding the city of criminals. • Will was nothing if not persistent. As the gala wound down, he insisted on driving you home. You could hardly refuse his charm. He made a point of walking you to your door, ensuring you got inside safely—though not before securing your number. • It didn’t take long for things to escalate. Dinners at high-end restaurants, strolls through art exhibitions, Will showing up at your office under the pretense of business at city hall. The chemistry was undeniable. • After just a month of dating, Will proposed. He was already in his 40s and saw no reason to delay happiness. His proposal was romantic yet intimate—an evening at his family's country house, dinner under the stars, and a simple, heartfelt question. You didn’t hesitate to say yes. • Being Will’s youngest wife was no easy task. Whispers followed you—claims that you had seduced him for power or were only in it for the wealth. But, honestly? Who cared? Your husband was incredibly attractive, and you were undeniably in love. • Navigating his family dynamics was another challenge. Surprisingly, you and his ex, Laura, got along well, and Danny was a kind, respectful child. Will deeply appreciated how you made an effort to be present for family moments. You even took Danny to pick out a Father’s Day gift, something that made Will’s heart swell with gratitude. • Will had a possessive streak. He made it clear that you were his, and he wasn’t one to tolerate wandering eyes. Whenever you were out together, his hands were on you—an arm around your waist, a protective hand on your back, fingers laced through yours. His presence was a constant reminder that you belonged to him. • At one of his infamous barbecues with friends, Will didn’t bother with subtlety. He pulled you onto his lap, one arm draped over your exposed thighs, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your skin. A silent declaration to everyone present. • Will wore his wedding ring with pride, almost smug about the fact that you were his wife. Sometimes, he’d call you ‘wife’ or ‘wifey’ just to hear the word roll off his tongue, the sound of it sending a thrill through him. Knowing you were his? That was intoxicating. • Despite his possessive nature, Will also had a softer side reserved just for you. He loved coming home to you, seeing you curled up on the couch, greeting him with a warm smile. Those quiet moments, when it was just the two of you, made everything else fade away. • Will had a habit of spoiling you, even if you protested. Jewelry, designer clothes, weekend getaways—he never let an opportunity pass to remind you that you were cherished. But the best gifts? The ones where he simply held you close, whispering that he’d never let you go. • The age gap never bothered him, but he took it upon himself to make sure you always felt respected and heard in their relationship. He valued your opinions, your ambitions, and took pride in the fire that made you who you were. Because, in the end, you weren’t just his wife—you were his equal.

SPICY HEADCANONS (+18)

• Will Beeman radiated a commanding presence, both in and out the bedroom. He was a man who craved control, and he wielded it with the same unyielding determination he brought to his work. In bed, he liked to be the one setting the pace, dictating the rhythm of your pleasure with each powerful thrust of his hips. His large hands would grip your waist, guiding you, positioning you exactly how he wanted you, as he drove into you with deep, relentless strokes.  He would loom over you, his muscular frame shadowing your smaller one, his eyes, those piercing blue eyes, would bore into yours, watching your every reaction, reveling in the way your face flushed and your lips parted under his onslaught. You were his to claim, his to conquer, and he took great pleasure in reducing you to a writhing, mewling mess beneath him.

• After a long, frustrating day at the office, when the stress and tension had built to a fever pitch, there was nothing better than the release of straddling his hips, sinking down on his thick, hard cock as you both sought solace in each other's bodies. You would ride him with wild abandon, your hips undulating sensually, your breasts bouncing as you chased your pleasure. Will's hands would grip your ass, helping to lift you, to pull you down, driving you to take him even deeper. In those moments, the rest of the world fell away, your worries and concerns dissolve like mist beneath the scorching heat of your joining. All that mattered was the slide of your bodies, the slap of skin on skin, and the building pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

• It was a thrill to sneak up on him in his office, to find him hunched over his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration as he grappled with the intricacies of his latest paper. You would slip in on silent feet, your heart already racing with anticipation as you slid your hands over his broad shoulders, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. With deft fingers, you would undo his belt, unzip his slacks, before freeing his already hardening cock from the confines of his boxers. The thick shaft would pulse in your hand, growing even harder as you wrapped your lips around the swollen head, your tongue swirling teasingly.  Will bit down hard on his cheek, stifling the moan that threatened to escape from his throat as you took more of him into the wet heat of your mouth. He could barely concentrate on the meeting, his fingers would tighten their grip in your hair, gripping the strands almost painfully as he fought to maintain his composure on the call.  You could hear the slight hitch in his breathing, the tightness in his voice as he continued to negotiate the sale of a property, when you took him deep, your nose pressing against his pelvis, your throat squeezing deliciously around his length as you swallowed around him.It was a dangerous game you played—pushing him to the brink of ecstasy while he struggled to maintain the facade of the cool, collected Wall Street broker. But you knew him, knew the effect you had on him, and you reveled in it.

• Will was a man who lived for the chase, the tease, the build-up of tension before the explosive release. And he could tell by the way your blouse fluttered at your neck, the quickening of your breath as you suckled him, that you were just as pent up, just as desperate for the relief only he could provide. He would make you wait, make you beg, before he'd flip you onto the desk, sweep the papers to the floor, and take you right there amidst the chaos of his workday. He'd fuck you hard and fast, pounding into your needy cunt with a wild abandon, determined to make you scream his name loud enough for the whole office to hear. Only then would he allow his own release, his hot seed spurting deep inside you, claiming you, marking you as his. And as you both caught your breath in the aftermath, he'd press his mouth to your neck, your collarbone, your chest, leaving a trail of dark hickeys and bite marks, a temporary tattoo of your passion. 

• As the weather grew warmer and the days longer, you found yourself reaching for lighter, more revealing clothing. The crisp, summery dresses and flimsy blouses that bared your shoulders and hugged your curves in all the right places. And with each outfit,Will had to adapt, to find new territory on which to stake his claim. He began to leave his mark in the secret places, the hidden valleys and curves of your body that hungered for his touch.  No longer content to simply lavish attention on the column of your throat and the swell of your breasts, he started to venture lower, to trail his lips and teeth along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The first time he did it, you were caught off guard, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as you felt the sharp nip of his teeth sink into the tender flesh.  It was a thrilling sensation, the mix of pleasure and pain that raced through your nerves like lightning, making you shudder and Will seemed to take your reaction as encouragement, and he doubled his efforts, determined to map out every inch of the creamy skin he'd revealed. 

Hiiii! I hope you're doing great <3 would you please write something platonic, when Dean and Sam were children (or teenagers, it's up to you), and John were to leave them with an ally/friend of his, and she's very attentive, caring, loving, patient, and understanding with them? I deeply enjoyed that our boys had mother figures in their adulthood, that genuinely cared of them, but I would have had loved if they would have had some type of caring figure when they were younger, bc they deserve the entire world :')

Ofc if you don't feel comfortable writing about this or you just simply don't like the idea, pls feel free to ignore it :)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ safe haven,

summary. john's out for another hunt and the boys get dropped off with a trusted friend

pairing. sam & dean winchester x mother-figure!oc

wordcount. 435

notes. love this concept and they definitely would've needed this! hope you like it hon

John doesn’t say much before he leaves. Just a gruff “You listen to her, alright?” before he’s out the door, duffel slung over his shoulder, truck rumbling down the dirt road.

Dean watches him go, jaw tight. He’s used to this—watching his dad disappear, knowing it’ll be days before he comes back, if not longer.

Sam, though—Sam still watches the taillights until they’re gone, small shoulders sagging.

“Well,” a voice hums behind them, warm and light, like a quilt fresh out of the dryer. “I don’t know about you boys, but I’ve got a roast in the oven that’s about to fall apart if we don’t dig in soon.”

Dean turns to look at her—the woman John dropped them off with. He doesn’t know much about her, just that her name is Annie, and their dad trusts her.

That’s rare enough.

She doesn’t look like a hunter. No scuffed-up boots, no haunted eyes. Just soft curves, an apron dusted with flour, and a smile that reaches her eyes.

She looks like a mom.

Dean doesn’t trust it.

But Sam—Sam is already inching toward her kitchen, nose scrunching as he sniffs the air. “Roast?” he asks, tentative, like he’s afraid he misheard.

Annie’s eyes twinkle. “With potatoes. And homemade bread. You eat bread, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Sam nods quickly, and Dean huffs, nudging his brother. “Dude, act like you’ve been fed before.”

Annie just chuckles, ruffling Sam’s hair. “Come on, then. Wash your hands first.”

Dean hesitates, lingering in the doorway as Sam beelines for the sink.

She’s too nice.

Nice people don’t last long in their world.

But the kitchen smells amazing, warm and buttery, and his stomach betrays him with a loud growl.

Annie turns, raising a brow. “Well?” she says, gentle but firm. “You coming, or am I gonna have to carry you?”

Dean snorts, shoulders easing just slightly. “I’d like to see you try, lady.”

She grins. “Careful what you wish for, kid.”

That night, she tucks Sam in first, smoothing his hair back, humming something soft. Sam’s out within minutes, relaxed in a way Dean hasn’t seen in years.

And then it’s just him.

Dean is sitting stiffly on the bed when Annie turns to him.

“You don’t have to, you know,” she says softly.

He frowns. “Have to what?”

She smiles, but there’s something sad in it. “Be on guard. Take care of everything. Just for tonight, sweetheart, let someone take care of you.”

Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything.

But when she pulls the blanket up over his shoulders, when her fingers brush against his hair—

He finally relaxes.

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supporting my wife

pairing - rhea x reader

summary -Yn, a passionate woman, watched her wife Rhea Ripley enter the ring, despite intense competition. Despite losing a match, Yn remained supportive, wishing Rhea continued success.

word count - 996

Yn sat in the front row, her heart racing with excitement. The lights in the arena were bright, and the crowd roared with energy. It was a night of intense competition, and the wrestling ring was buzzing with anticipation. Yn couldn’t help but feel proud as she watched her wife, Rhea Ripley, prepare to enter the ring. Rhea was not just her partner; she was a fierce competitor, known for her strength and determination.

Yn had always admired Rhea’s passion for wrestling. From the moment Rhea had stepped into the ring for the first time, Yn knew this was her calling. Rhea trained hard every day, pushing her limits and perfecting her skills. Yn was there for every practice, cheering her on and helping her stay focused. Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, Rhea was up against some of the best wrestlers in the world.

As the arena lights dimmed, the music blared loudly, and everyone turned to the entrance. Yn felt her heart flutter as Rhea emerged, her presence captivating and powerful. Rhea wore her signature black and gold outfit that shimmered under the lights. With her imposing stature and confident stride, she looked ready to take on the world. Yn could see the fire in Rhea's eyes, and it filled her with pride.

The atmosphere was electric. Fans cheered for their favorite wrestlers, waving signs and shouting names. Rhea was a crowd favorite, and Yn felt lucky to be married to such an incredible woman. She held a sign that read, “Go Rhea! ” and waved it energetically, hoping to boost Rhea's spirit.

As the match began, Yn leaned forward in her seat, fully invested in every move. Rhea was up against two skilled opponents, and the competition was fierce. The first opponent, a tall man with a muscular build named Titan, charged at Rhea. They traded blows, each one showcasing their strength. Yn’s heart raced as she saw Rhea take a hard hit but quickly recover, countering with her own attacks.

The second opponent, named Luna, was quick and agile. She darted around the ring, trying to strike Rhea from different angles. Rhea remained focused, her eyes determined. Yn could sense the tension in the air. Despite the intensity, she felt a wave of confidence wash over her. Rhea had faced tough challenges before, and she always found a way to rise above.

As the match progressed, Rhea formed a plan. She had learned to adapt to her opponents’ strengths and weaknesses, and tonight was no different. The crowd was on their feet, cheering loudly as Rhea executed a series of incredible moves. It was thrilling to watch her wife in action, and Yn felt tears of joy in her eyes.

However, tensions escalated as Titan and Luna teamed up against Rhea. Yn’s stomach twisted with worry as the odds stacked against her wife. They pushed Rhea to the edge of the ropes, and Yn leaned forward, wanting to shout words of encouragement. “You got this, Rhea! Don’t give up! ” she yelled, her voice lost in the roar of the crowd.

In a crucial moment, Rhea managed to break free. She used her raw strength to throw Luna against the mat. Yn cheered loudly, jumping with excitement. But as Rhea turned her attention to Titan, Luna quickly got back on her feet and struck Rhea from behind. The impact knocked Rhea down hard.

Yn gasped, her heart sinking. She could see the look of determination in Rhea’s eyes, but she also saw the pain. Rhea got back up, refusing to stay down. The match continued, and for a moment, Yn believed Rhea could still turn it around. She wanted to believe that Rhea would win against all odds.

As the final moments of the match approached, Rhea executed an incredible move, lifting Titan into the air, but she was too exhausted. In a swift counter, Titan turned the tables and pinned Rhea to the mat. The referee counted down, and the fans watched with bated breath. One… two… three. It was over. Yn felt her heart break as the bell rang, signaling the end of the match.

Rhea slowly got to her feet, disappointment etched on her face. The crowd erupted in cheers, celebrating Titan and Luna’s victory. Yn stood up, clapping with the rest of the audience, but she felt a pang of sadness. Rhea, despite losing, had given it her all. Yn rushed to the ring as Rhea exited, looking defeated yet dignified.

“Rhea! ” Yn called out, tears streaming down her face. She wrapped her arms around Rhea in a tight embrace, feeling the weight of the loss together. Rhea held Yn close, her breathing heavy, but comforted by Yn’s presence. “I’m so proud of you,” Yn said softly. “You fought hard. That’s what matters. ”

Rhea pulled back slightly, meeting Yn’s eyes. “I wanted to win for you,” she said, her voice filled with vulnerability. Yn shook her head. “You don’t have to win to make me proud. You’re already a champion to me. You gave it your all. ”

As they walked out of the arena, Rhea began to smile. Yn could see the spark returning to her eyes. “Thank you for always believing in me,” Rhea said, squeezing Yn's hand. “I may have lost this time, but I’ll come back stronger. ”

Yn nodded, filled with hope. They left the arena, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came next. Rhea may not have won the match, but she had won something far more valuable – the love and support of Yn. Together, they would face all challenges, side by side, embracing life’s ups and downs as a team.

The night may have ended in disappointment, but for Yn and Rhea, it was just another chapter in their journey together. They would always keep fighting, for each other and for their dreams, no matter how tough the battle might be. And that was a victory worth celebrating.

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   EX-CONVICT!BABYDADDY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ unprotected p in v, breeding kink if you squint, heavyyyy angst, rafe being an asshole (as per usual), brief mentions of guns/police raid and drugs

NOTES .ᐟ guys, i need him so bad, like actually. based on this concept from my silly little brain. dad!rafe stays in my mind 24/7, but this is me we're talking about, so of course, i had to put a lil spin on it. also this turned out way longer than i meant it to, woah

After almost four years, you were finally starting to feel like you were getting your shit together. You were living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where everyone knew everyone—the kind of place where people literally asked their neighbors for cups of sugar. You had a stable job that allowed you to live comfortably and provide for yourself and your daughter, and you had a big St. Bernard, lovingly named Moonshine after you'd watched one too many episodes of Moonshiners, that provided a sense of safety and security when the nights were cold and the paranoia started to creep into your mind.

Being a single mom was not easy, and it definitely hadn't been a part of your life plan, but then, you met Rafe Cameron—the ever charming, sweet talking man that he was. He swept you up and made you feel like the only girl in the world, like nothing else mattered as long as you were by his side, so when you found out you were pregnant, you were over the moon at the idea of starting a family with him.

But Rafe Cameron was a liar. He was selfish and manipulative, and he turned your life right on it's head.

You could still remember the day the police kicked in the door of your apartment, bursting in with guns drawn, pointed directly at you. You were eight months pregnant and having a gun pointed at you—at your baby—made you physically ill.

They had raided the apartment and found copious amounts of drugs. Your heart dropped, and you immediately felt like an idiot. How had you not known? You knew he made more money than he realistically should have, but the thought never even crossed your mind that this could be the reason. You were heartbroken and angry. Angry that he had lied. Angry that he put you in this position. And, angry that he was leaving you.

Rafe was arrested, and eventually charged with possession with intent to distribute due to the amount of drugs they found, which resulted in a five year sentence. You were sad and angry, not only because you were losing the man you always thought was the love of your life, but also because now, you were alone, and your daughter wouldn't know her father for the first five years of her life.

This anger and resentment festered, mixing with longing and a deep, aching sadness. You couldn't bring yourself to answer his calls or letters, let alone visit him. You didn't know who he was anymore. The man that you saw sporting handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit at his trial was not the same man you fell in love with, and you wouldn't pretend like he was.

You had known Rafe's release date was approaching, but you were under the impression that you still had a little over a year to plan on what you were going to do when it finally came. That's why you were so unsuspecting when you went to answer the harsh knock at your door.

It was a Thursday night, and you were cuddled up on the couch with Moonshine, who was practically the size of you. A horror movie was playing on the TV before you, one you'd seen practically a million times, and every few minutes, your gaze would flicker to the baby monitor on the coffee table that displayed the feedback from a camera in your daughter, Rhiannon's, room.

You jumped a little at the harsh sound of a knock on your front door, the horror movie already having you on edge. You could be paranoid sometimes, especially being a single mom, so realistically, you knew you shouldn't have been watching it so late at night, but they were your guilty pleasures that you couldn't indulge in the light of day because of your toddler.

Moonshine immediately jumped up, a low growl escaping his throat as his hair stood on end. Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, pausing the movie and unfurling yourself from your comfortable position. Your steps were soft on the hardwood, your socks cushioning the sound as you padded over to the front door, patting the dog's head comfortingly as you unlocked the door, completely unaware with what would greet you on the other side.

As you opened the door, the cool night air hit you, carrying with it the faint scent of cigarette smoke. You blinked in surprise, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, you found yourself face to face with Rafe Cameron.

Your eyes widened, the air knocked from your lungs as you took him in. He was changed, broader and more imposing, his muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he crossed his arms. His hair was buzzed, his chiseled jawline sporting stubble that made him look older, more mature.

He looked so different, but still, somehow, the same. You were hit by a wave of emotions—longing, love, sadness, but most presently, anger. Who did he think he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the night after all these years, especially looking so unapologetic and devastatingly handsome.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, captivating and dangerous like a wave pulling you under when you least expected it. "Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off his tongue. The term of endearment fell from his lips without any semblance of warmth as he stared at you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your jaw clenching and grip on the door's edge tightening. You shivered a little as the cold air bit at your bare skin, barely registering the low growls of Moonshine behind you due to your tunnel vision on the man standing before you.

He smirked confidently, knowing the effect he had on you—the effect he always had on you. His eyebrow arched as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs, courtesy of your pajama shorts. "Aren't you going to invite me in, sweetheart? It's been a long time." He took a step forward, his broad frame filling the doorway intimidatingly.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back and let him intimidate you into getting what he wanted. You craned your neck to look up at him, his close proximity looming over you, making him seem even taller and more imposing than he already was. "And whose fault is that?" You managed to say, despite the pit in your stomach—a mix of dread, anxiety, and strangely, desire.

Rafe's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe beside your head, leaning in closer. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you held firm. You couldn't let him see that he was getting to you. "Let me in," he clenched his jaw. His anger at you for abandoning him in there had been bubbling up, and your defiance was bringing it to the surface.

A light flickering on in the house across the street caught your eye. Old lady Flanigan had a habit of making everyone else's business, her business, and she was a nasty gossip. Unless you wanted people talking, you either had to let him in or get him to leave, and one of those would be a nearly impossible feat. "Rafe, you can't be here. You can't just barge back into my life after all this time," you told him firmly, your own eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.

"And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His body was practically vibrating with pent-up anger, his muscles taut as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your face. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about what you did to us?"

"What I did?" You scoffed, anger bubbling up inside you at his accusation, blaming you as if he wasn't the one that went to prison and left you alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The old woman across the street was now shamelessly watching through her window, and you knew you had no choice but to let him in before her nosey ass called the cops on the strange, clearly out of place man lurking in the neighborhood.

He followed your eyes, looking over his shoulder to the nosy neighbor, his expression darkening. Without another word, he pushed past you, entering the house and forcing you to step back.

Your jaw clenched at his blatant disregard or respect for your wishes as you gently closed the door behind you. Moonshine barked, baring his teeth at the intruder, clearly sensing the tension and jumping into action to protect his family. "Moonshine, stop," you told him firmly. You were proud of him, but you didn't want his barking to wake Rhiannon. The last thing you could deal with right now was Rafe and a crying toddler. You could only focus on one temper tantrum at a time.

Rafe's eyes narrowed as he watched you control your dog, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze then swept the interior of your home, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. "Nice place," he commented flatly, turning back to face you. "Where's my kid?"

You took a deep breath, your gaze hard at him calling your daughter his kid, like he had any right. He didn't even know her name or that she was a girl. "She's asleep," you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

His piercing eyes bore into yours, unyielding. "Her name." he demanded gruffly.

"Rhiannon," you informed him hesitantly, your gaze darting to the monitor on the coffee table, making sure she was still asleep.

His expression flickered briefly, a flash of something softer, almost vulnerable, in his eyes before it was quickly concealed. He nodded once. "I want to see her." It wasn't a request. His posture remained tense and coiled, ready to react to your response.

You huffed, running a hand through your hair and heading to the kitchen with him hot on your heels. Maybe you wanted to busy yourself. Maybe you wanted an excuse not to have to look at him. Maybe you just wanted to walk away from him, to assert some kind of power. Either way, your next words were spoken with your back to him. "I told you. She's asleep. It's the middle of the fucking night, Rafe, what did you expect?"

He followed you into the kitchen, his presence overwhelming in the small space. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. "I don't give a fuck what time it is," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I've missed four years of her life already."

You rounded the kitchen island, planting your hands on it as you turned to face him, feeling more comfortable with the counter between you. Not because you were scared of him but because, despite yourself and despite your anger, you longed to touch him and have him touch you. "And whose fucking fault is that, huh?" You asked angrily, echoing your earlier words that he had ignored.

Rafe's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his anger. "Yours," he bit out. "You left me in there," he accused.

"You left me out here!" Your voice raised slightly before you caught yourself, letting out a hard breath. The only way you could keep yourself from getting sad, from crying over the loss of the only man you'd ever truly loved, was getting angry at him.

"You think I wanted to go to prison?" He hissed, rounding the island and backing you against the counter. "You think I had a fucking choice?"

"You did have a choice," you said sharply, bracing your hands on the counter behind you as you stared up at him. "You chose to deal drugs, and you chose to keep dealing even after you found out I was pregnant. Prison was just the consequence of all your shitty choices."

His hand came up, slamming on the cabinet beside your head, the sound making you jump slightly. "And what about you?" He seethed, his chest heaving as his breath came in short, angry bursts. "What about your choices, huh? You could've waited for me."

"I did what I had to do," you said, glaring at him. You weren't quite sure what else to say. You had to protect yourself, your own feelings, and your child. You couldn't have stayed in touch, sick with worry every night while you soothed a colicky baby all by yourself. You had to forget him; it was better that way, easier.

"What you had to do," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the faintest hint of hurt. "You moved on pretty quick, didn't you? Found some new dick to warm your bed, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, the words stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to even look at another man since he went away. You told yourself it was just because of Rhiannon, that you were focusing on raising her and being the best mother you could be, but deep down, you knew it was because your heart would always belong to Rafe.

"Is that it?" he repeated, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, his eyes searching yours for something. "You found some other man to replace me?"

"Maybe I have," you said stubbornly. You knew you were being petty, wanting him to hurt like you hurt, but you also knew you were a shit liar, so there was no way in hell he would actually believe you. "Maybe I have moved on."

His other hand shot out, gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to look at him. "Bullshit," he growled, looking down at you, his blue eyes darkened. "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't moved on to shit."

You stared up at him defiantly, your chest heaving with anger, which only intensified when you felt the wetness between your thighs. Even after all this time, all it took was a look and a simple touch to get you so wet, and as much as you hated it, you couldn't deny that something about his post-prison appearance—how rugged and large he was—made your knees week.

His hand tightened on your chin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was clear he was angry, punishing you for the words you'd spoken, and you knew you should've pushed him away—yelled at him and told him to get the fuck out of your house—but you didn't.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him with an intensity that matched the war going on within you—the jumbled mess of love and hate that he had brought up within you.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your face roughly as he devoured your mouth. He pushed you further back against the counter that was now digging into your lower back, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his anger, his frustration, his desperation, and it only fueled your own emotions.

The kiss was raw and charged with a passionate mix of need, longing, and pure, unbridled anger, both of you trying to show the other that this wasn't a surrender of power or giving into the other and accepting blame. The kiss itself was an argument, a fight all of its own that didn't require words.

He hands went to your hips, lifting you onto the counter and stepping between your parted legs. Tearing his mouth from yours, he began kissing along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His lips were hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin as he continued to mark you.

You panted, your chest heaving for an entirely different reason now as you let out soft gasps and breathy sounds of approval, your head falling back against the cabinet behind your head. You had forgotten how good he was with his mouth, always knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

He took advantage of the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You let out a low moan, your nails raking against his buzzed scalp. As sexy as he looked with a buzzcut, you wished you could run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly everytime he touched you just right.

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, his voice a low vibration that seemed to go straight to your core. He kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hips pushing forward to press his hardness against your core. "Did you forget how good I am, baby?"

You internally rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, like he had won. "God, do you ever shut up?" You asked, sounding less annoyed and effective since you were still breathless from his kisses.

His hips thrust forward again, making an involuntary whine fall from your lips at the feeling. "Not when I'm right." He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smirk was as frustratingly handsome as it had always been, and it made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. "And I am."

"Don't be a dickhead," you glared at him, his arrogance and your own unyielding need for him only heightening your frustration. You were desperate and aching for him, but you refused to give in and beg him like you wanted to.

"Then quit acting like you're not soaking wet for me." His grip on your thighs tightened, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet if I slipped my hand into your shorts, I'd find you drenched and ready for me, wouldn't I?"

His smug tone infuriated you and turned you on all at once. "Shut up, Rafe," you demanded, balling your fist into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, so you could press your lips to his, forcing him to shut up and quit pissing you off.

Your grip on his shirt loosened, hand sliding down his hard, muscular chest to his waistband. You had always seen the trope of guys working out their frustrations in prison movies, but you didn't know that was actually a thing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, sliding it along yours in a way that had you moaning against his lips

He groaned low in his throat as you finally worked the belt buckle open, sliding the leather through the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clank. His hands immediately slid up your thighs, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs—with the help of you awkwardly shifting to lift your ass enough to do so.

He discarded the garments to the floor with his belt, his palms running along your bare thighs as he parted your legs wider, opening you to him. His calloused fingertips brushed against your center, feeling your slick folds, making you gasp into his mouth. "Told you," he grinned against your lips, finding it in himself to be a complete dick, even when he was about to be inside you.

"Asshole," you mumbled, fingers deftly popping open the button of his jeans and unzipping them. You hooked your fingers in his waistband, shoving his pants and underwear down as he had done to you.

He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, stepping between your thighs again. His hard cock was flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He gripped himself at the base, rubbing the head through your slick folds teasingly. "What was that, baby?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "Just put your dick inside me before I kill you," you threatened him, though you both knew you wouldn't do anything, not really.

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You want it so bad, don't you?" He teased, his tip nudging against your entrance but not pushing inside. "Beg for it, baby. Let me hear how much you need my cock." He didn't need to be angry when he could punish you like this. He knew begging was the last thing you wanted to do, but he also knew that you'd do it.

"Don't piss me off right now, Rafe," you gritted your teeth, the feeling of him against your entrance making you dizzy with desire.

"Or what, baby? You'll what?" He pressed against you again, the tip of his cock pushing inside just slightly before pulling back out. "Tell me what you'll do if I don't give you what you want." He was pushing your buttons, knowing exactly how to make you snap.

You practically whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out. "Fuck- fine, please, Rafe," you panted, furious with yourself and him that you were giving into him. "Please just fuck me already."

The confident, victorious smirk that instantly appeared on his face had you wanting to slap him. "Now was that so hard?" He condescend. Your annoyed retort died in your throat as he finally pushed into you, making you moan, your head falling back against the cupboard at the feeling of him inside you after so long.

He groaned as your tight heat enveloped him, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise as he started to move. His body tensed, using every ounce of his self control not to cum on the spot. Four years of fucking himself in his hand was nothing compared to the way you were squeezing him right now.

One hand moved up to your mouth, muffling your growing moans and whines. "Shh," he cooed. You were thankful for it. You knew you had to be quiet, but the way he was pounding into you made it nearly impossible.

"Did you miss me, baby?" He leaned down, breathing hotly against your neck as he nipped at your throat. "Did you lay awake at night thinking about me stretching you like this?" He flexed his hips, driving deep inside you.

You nodded, letting out a muffled "mhm" against his palm as your back arched into him. He felt so good, better than you'd remembered, and you hadn't had sex in four years, so you were so worked up.

"Good," he purred, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Because I missed you too, baby. Missed this tight little cunt wrapped around my dick." The hand on your thigh dipped down between your legs, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

You gasped against his palm, your eyes rolling back at the mix of sensations. You were already so pathetically close, feeling that familiar aching deep within you.

He could feel your weepy cunt starting to flutter around him, and he was more than glad that you were so close so quickly because he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. "Gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, baby. Gonna get you pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna miss a damn thing"

His words turned you on more than they should have, snapping that coil inside you and sending you over the edge. You tensed around his dick, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you cried out his name.

"Shit, baby," he groaned, burying his face into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin as he pushed himself deep inside you, painting your insides white with his release. His breath was hot against your already heated skin, a thin layer of sweat coating both your bodies as he slowly softened inside you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, his hand falling from your mouth to brace himself on the counter. You couldn't believe that after all these years of promising yourself you wouldn't let him back into your life, you had so easily opened your legs and even let him cum inside you—because clearly that worked out so well for you last time.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of finally being home where he belonged. He eventually pulled out, his softening dick slipping from your tender cunt.

You had to tell him that he couldn't stay, that it would confuse Rhiannon to wake up to a strange man in the house, but you didn't know how, not after what just happened.

He stepped back, allowing you to get down from the counter. A silence fell over both of you as you got dressed, neither one knowing what happens now. He finished buttoning up his jeans, his eyes flicking up to you as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. "So... what now?" He asked gruffly, breaking the silence.

"You can't- you have to go," you told him, pulling your shorts back up and crossing your arms. It seemed unfair to say such a thing after sharing such an intimate moment, but you needed to think of your daughter. She didn't even know who Rafe was.

"You're kicking me out?" He echoed, as if he couldn't believe it. "After... that?" He gestured vaguely, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, both of you finding yourselves right back where you started. "You cant just... be here. Rhiannon doesn't even know who you are." The words seemed cruel as soon as they left your lips, but they were true. You wished they weren't, but they were.

"I know. Fuck, I know that. Don't you think I know that?" He was frustrated, your words like a slap to the face. "But goddamn it, I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life."

"I'm not saying you can't be, but... she's four, Rafe. She's old enough that you can't just walk in and call yourself her father," you told him firmly. "It's going to take time. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Time?" He asked incredulously. Deep down, he knew you were right, that you were doing what was best, but he was so angry at himself, and instead of facing that anger and acknowledging that this was his own doing, he was taking it out on you. "I've already missed four fucking years. First steps, first words, first everythings."

"I can't keep going in circles with you, Rafe," you ran your hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. "You do this my way, or you don't do this at all." It hurt you to be so cold. You wanted Rhiannon to know her father, but she was just a kid. She wouldn't understand why her dad just showed up out of the blue, and you didn't know how to explain it to her.

He stared at you, his face unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, he spoke, his voice low. "Alright. Fine. Your way. But you better not shut me out again. I'm not gonna miss anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, thankful that he was going to stop fighting you on this. "Do you have a-a number or something?" You asked, unsure how long he'd been out, if he got his phone back and was able to pay the bill or if he bought a burner. You didn't even know where he was staying.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's the same as my old one," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed by your previous ultimatum.

"Right, okay," you nodded, your fingers drumming against your upper arm. You two stood in silence for a long moment. Rafe didn't want to leave, and you didn't want to tell him to.

Rafe's gaze fell to the floor, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Can I see her before I go?" He asked softly. "Just... just to see her."

There was a shift in his demeanor, a vulnerability about him that told you he really did care about Rhiannon, even if he'd never met her. "Yeah," you found yourself nodding, turning to lead him to her room. As you entered the living room, you could've sworn Moonshine was giving a disapproving side eye. "Don't judge me," you mumbled.

He followed you down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He paused in the doorway of Rhiannon's room, looking in on her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side in a princess toddler bed, her little arms wrapped around a stuffed cat. Rafe's expression softened as he took her in.

His eyes swept over the room, the nightlight plugged into the wall illuminating the space. The walls were painted a light shade of pink, toys strewn about. A small bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, various children's books inside, some sitting on the floor in front of it.

He stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on Rhiannon's sleeping face as he reached out, his large hand gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "She's so little," he murmured softly, almost reverently.

You leaned on the doorway, a small, sad smile pulling at your lips as you watched the exchange. You found yourself wondering what life would have been like if Rafe never got locked up, your heart aching as you thought about sharing all of Rhiannon's firsts with someone, bickering over whether she would've said mommy or daddy first. The wobbly first steps, the soothing and band-aid applications after she scraped her knees. What would it have been like to share those moments with him?

Rafe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's beautiful." He turned his head to look at you, and you saw the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, clearing his throat as he stood, masking his emotions as he always had. "I should go."

You hesitated, for a moment wanting to throw everything you'd said out the window and tell him to stay, but you knew you couldn't. You just nodded, letting him push past you. You didn't move from your spot, even after you heard the front door open and shut. You simply closed your eyes, leaning your head against the doorframe as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.