a/n: hi everyone, long time no see. not my usual obsession, but what can i say? i'm obsessing over daddy dean. hopefully this reaches the right target audience 🫡
The universe has a funny way of working. Sometimes it places people in your life for only a moment, and other times it keeps pulling you toward the same person until ignoring it becomes impossible. Maybe it’s timing, maybe it’s coincidence, or maybe some people are simply meant to find each other no matter how hard they try not to. And before you realize it, they’ve become part of your routine. Part of you.
The party was loud, well, Briar U’s parties were always annoyingly loud. She didn’t really want to come out, but in a way she felt like she should. She moved through the crowd, the smell of cheap beer lingering in the air as she said hi to a couple of people she recognized. The girls weren't here yet, and without them she almost felt out of place. She made it to the kitchen, her eyes wandering and deciding what to drink.
Logan approached her leaning in close “Hey, you. Thought you were staying home tonight!” Leaning in for a hug, as they talked for a few minutes.
And that was the exact moment he noticed her.
Across the kitchen Dean stood listening to Beau rave about the hockey game- well he wasn’t really listening to him. His focus eventually narrowed in on the girl with long hair and a bright smile as she talked away to Logan.
“Who is that?” Dean asked Beau, cutting him off mid-sentence, his words coming out quickly, “The one talking to Logan,” He clarified, keeping his eyes on her. He had never seen her before or maybe he had, but he told himself he was just curious. But the thing about Dean was that he was never curious. He was a playboy, along for the ride, he was never that curious about a girl.
It eventually became a pattern with late night hook ups that occasionally blurred into her spending the night. Sometimes it was just a quick and sloppy hookup, other times it turned into laughter and late night talking.
“We should really stop doing this…” She said against his lips. They were in his room this time, on top of him, her chest bare and her skin flushed from the heat of his mouth as he kissed down her neck. Grinding down against him slowly as his erection pressed up into her.
His large hands slid down her back, palms warm and slightly calloused, tracing her back, before settling on her hips, shivering at the way he touched her. "Hmm, why is that?" he mumbled against her skin, smiling as he kissed along her jaw just under her ear.
She moaned.. A little too loud. He always did this. He was always distracting her, clouding her judgment until she lost her train of thought.
His fingers dug into her hips, guiding her movement as he shifted, slipping one leg between hers until she opened wider for him. His hand came down, hooking his pointer finger to push her panties to the side. She gasped when he flipped her over onto her back, hooking her legs around his shoulder with one hand wrapping around her ankle to hold her into place. He lined himself up, pushing the tip in making her hips buckle “Didn’t catch that, you were saying we should stop?" His voice cocky with a smirk.
She shook her head no, her mouth falling open as she tried to form a sentence on why this was a bad idea. His thumb dragged to her mouth and pressed past her lips, and she sucked without thinking as she circled her tongue, her eyes on him. "Shit," he whispered, his head falling back for a split second before his eyes found hers again. His thumb slid out of her mouth with a wet pop, and his hand traveled down her stomach, eventually reaching down to press slow circles on her clit.
“Pretty fucking girl,” He mumbled.
The bell above the door jingled as she walked into Malone's, the familiar smell of beer, and greasy food. The diner was packed, hockey players filled the booths near the back, closer to the band that was playing tonight. Hannah was already waving over from a table near the jukebox, Allie sliding a menu toward the empty seat before she'd even sat down.
"Took you long enough," Hannah said, stirring her drink with a straw. "We already ordered fries."
"I had to change twice," she admitted, sliding into the booth. "Nothing felt right."
Allie raised her eyebrows but didn't push, and she was grateful for it. Because the truth was, nothing felt right because she knew he'd be here. The team always came to Malone's after practice and she'd spent forty minutes in front of her closet telling herself she wasn't picking an outfit for him.That she wasn't already counting the minutes until she'd see him again.
The night continued on. They both knew they were in the same room, and that simple knowledge made her heart pound in a way that was almost embarrassing. She could feel the weight of his presence like pressure against her skin, even from three booths away.
"Beer run," she announced, sliding out of the booth before the girls could ask for one too.
She made her way through the diner, weaving between tables, and time seemed to slow down. Dean was walking toward her and their eyes locked.
He was giving her that smile. The one that made his dimples poke out, that crinkled the corners of his eyes. And for a moment, nothing else existed. No noise. No crowd. Just him, looking at her like she was the only person in the room.
They passed each other quickly. His shoulder nearly brushed hers. Their hands didn't touch but she felt it everywhere.
She let out a breath and kept walking, her hands trembling slightly as she reached the bar ordering a drink as she watched the band play. She eventually turned her back to the room, facing the bar fully as she took a sip of her beer, hoping it would calm her.
And then she felt it.
Him.
Like a sixth sense. Like her body knew before her brain could catch up. A shift in the air, a warmth at her side, the faint scent of his cologne. Goosebumps erupted across her skin, trailing up her arms, raising the hairs at the back of her neck.
"YN," he said, looking straight ahead. His voice low and casual, like they were strangers making small talk.
"Dean," she said back, proud that her voice came out steady. She felt a smile creeping across her face—that stupid, giddy, excited smile she couldn't seem to control around him. She bit the inside of her cheek to contain it, but she knew he could see it anyway. He always saw everything.
Neither of them said anything else after that. He rested his arms on the bar beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, and she kept her hands flat against the counter. And then she felt it. Her eyes flicked down for half a second, then back up, staring straight ahead, to try and seem like he didn't have an effect on her. Her breathing slowed and she looked down again at their hands.
His pinky had shifted. A slow, deliberate movement. It touched hers, barely grazing at first, just a whisper of contact. And then it pressed fully against her, warm and certain. He was looking straight ahead, casual, like he wasn't doing anything at all. Like his pinky wasn't tracing small, intimate circles against her skin, right there in plain sight where anyone could see.
Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it.
But she didn't pull away, she pressed back.
“There you are,” She turned at the sound of his voice giving him a small smile, watching him as he pulled up a chair right beside her. She watched him sit down in the chair, manspreading, his long legs stretched out, watching his thighs clench as he shifted his hips up slightly to get more comfortable.
The boys had thrown a party to celebrate the end of the semester. Exams were done, bags were packed, and everyone was buzzing with restless energy that came before heading home for break. But she'd needed air and a minute to herself.
Things had shifted the last several weeks. She looked for him everywhere, waiting for his calls, staying close to him at all times, not just privately but publicly. She was becoming dependent on him. He felt it too. He was locked in, it was pathetic really. He watched the way she was kind to everyone she met, he loved watching her laugh, he loved the way she would study on his bed completely lost in an assignment as her brow furrowed in concentration. He loved to watch her. He was infatuated with everything she did and said. She was just special, special to him.
She lifted her legs up, draping them over his thighs and his hand came down to trace a slow path up and down her leg. He watched her take a long hit of the blunt, slowly exhaling the smoke as she passed it back to him avoiding his eye contact. His fingers brushed hers as he reached for it but stopped abruptly, not taking the blunt just hoping she would look at him.
“You spending the night?” He asked, still keeping his eyes on her as she continued to watch the fire burn, her shoulders shrugging.
“Maybe.”
His hand came to a stop on her thigh.
Maybe.
Maybe?
The word hung between them, echoing inside his mind almost taunting him. That word didn't exist in their vocabulary. She always spent the night. It was an unspoken, assumed, part of the rhythm they'd fallen into. She felt him staring at her, felt the weight of his eyes boring into the side of her face, but she couldn't even look at him. If she looked at him, she'd cave.
"Bullshit," he said, a small laugh escaping him, like he was trying to keep things light. But his smile dropped when she still didn't look at him, instead she bit her lip and stayed silent for a moment.
"I have an early morning," she said quietly.
"You always have early mornings."
She didn't answer him, because really the truth was harder than a lie. She needed to draw the line between them. She could feel herself becoming infatuated with him, craving the sound of his voice, his hands on her body.
She could see it in her periphery, the way his jaw clenched because he was starting to get frustrated that she was avoiding him.
"Don't feed me some bullshit about early mornings."
She swallowed hard, feeling small wanting to sink into the chair and disappear. She tried to move her legs off his lap, but his hand shot out, gripping her knee gently to keep her legs there.
“Look at me,” her eyes found him as he watched a tear fall down her face, he sat up straighter, stretching his arm out to wipe it away.
“Listen, I-, I’m not asking you to marry me,” a small, self-deprecating laugh escapes him.
He continued, “You've been in my bed more nights than you haven't."
He paused for a minute, taking her hands into his, giving her a small smile, slightly shaking his head, “I like that you steal my clothes even though your clothes are in my dresser, I like seeing your makeup and hair products scattered all over the bathroom, I like-” he paused,
His voice faltered, dropping his head for a moment, gathering himself, then looked up at her again. “I like you,”
“I like us,” he added quickly.
Silence.
She didn't know what to say. Her brain had locked up and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart in her ears. She could feel her eyes watering again, she wanted to tell him she felt the same way but her adrenaline was pumping and she just froze, her throat closed with her lips pressed together.
He wasn’t angry at her lack of response. He wasn’t mocking her or pushing her into saying something she wasn’t ready to say, because he understood that she was scared.
"Okay," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand went back to her thigh, back to tracing that slow, familiar path up and down. ”Just stay tonight.”
Summary: Reader is a content housewife to her wealthy husband who she somewhat loves. After a tragedy shakes both their lives, reader & her husband move to the island of Kildare to start over, but an all too interested young man next door will make their new home anything but pleasant…
THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON/CON & DUB/CON. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. MINORS DNFI.
Summary: You swipe right on Tinder with some interesting results.
One Thing Right Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist
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You weren’t traditional by any sense of the word. You’d given up all those crazy ideals that had been ingrained in your personality when you realized that you weren’t going to find a high school sweetheart to settled down with. Or a college one for that matter. You settled for nice dates with average guys and tried to remind yourself daily that you needed no one to complete your life. It was fine on its own.
pt. two: it's born from just one single glance | 2k words
pt. three: a dwindling mercurial high | 2.4k words 🔥
pt. four: you taught me a secret language | 2.9k words
pt. five: make sure nobody sees you leave | 3.7k words
pt. six: you'll be flushed when you return | 3k words
pt. seven: tell yourself you can always stop | 2.8k words 🔥
pt. eight: and clandestine meetings and longing stares | 2.6k words
pt. nine: leave the perfume on the shelf | 2.1k words
INTERLUDE | 0.6k words
pt. ten: don’t call me baby | 2.4k words
pt. eleven: look at this idiotic fool that you made me | 2.4k words
pt. twelve: take the road less travelled by | 4.1k words
pt. thirteen: tell your friends you’re out for a run | 4.2k words
pt. fourteen: like you don't even exist | 3.4k words
pt. fifteen: for you i would ruin myself | 3.2k words
pt. sixteen: and you know damn well | 4k words
pt. seventeen: but they lie, and they lie, and they lie | 7.4k words
pt. eighteen: take the words for what they are | 6.5k
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Rafe, Kelce, Topper and you. For as long as you could remember, the four of you have been inseparable. For as long as you could remember, you were also in love with your best friend, Rafe. You always told yourself that it was a teenage thing, that you'd grow out of it, and for most of the time, it felt like you could.
Rafe Cameron has spent most of his life chasing after a girl who claims she wants nothing to do with him. One day, she texts Rafe that she’s needs help, which turns out to be something much deeper than he could ever imagine.
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PLEASE READ: this story will contain dark topics of eating disorders, vomiting, rape, and sexual assault (not by Rafe). Please proceed with caution and do not read if these are triggering topics to you!! This fic is in no way intended to romanticize any type of sexual abuse or disordered eating.
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter tewelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
blurbs: dorothea , to me, you are perfect, what if I told you I’m a mastermind?, you’re the real thing, LosT , keep driving
PLEASE NOTE — THIS BLOG IS NOT FOR MINORS. MY WORK CONTAINS DARK AND MATURE THEMES. this includes noncon/dubcon, CNC, abuse/DV, etc. 18+ ONLY. always check warnings & read at your own risk!! IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, DON’T READ/INTERACT. IT IS NOT MY JOB TO EXPLAIN THE INTEREST IN READING/WRITING DARK FIC SO DON’T ASK. ALL HATEFUL ANONS GET BLOCKED.
・❥・ newest works
{ no good deed goes unpunished } { the cut that always bleeds } { the heist pt. I && pt. II } { champagne problems } { wicked games } { leaving tonight pt. II } { toxic pt. IV }
requests are OPEN. mainly writing for rafe but open to other OBX characters by request! to send a request, send me your idea via ask, not DM. if you’re anonymous, please include an emoji thats not already taken somewhere in the message. all i ask is that you at least come back after and lmk your thoughts.
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i know there are several of these girls that aren’t writing anymore ): but their work is just too good to not be mentioned! (will update when i randomly think of other authors)
summary: y/n moves to the outerbanks thanful for a fresh start away from a very heavy past. once she gets there she falls into this diverse crowd of kooks, pogues, and everything in between. north carolina may be the south but she shows them what texan looks like. shockingly, rafe takes interest in his sisters friend. someone so drastically different from him. girl next door. what ever will he do?
authors note: im gonna be honest a LOT of this fic is gonna be self serving. i know its not gonna be everyones cup of tea but i started making it for my friends and i and its really grown so i decided to post. there will be a lot of names you wont recoginze and with that being said its got quite the back story so i will be posting a sort of 'key' if that makes sense.
throughout this fic i will be touching on some sensitive subjects such as physical abuse, drug addiction, drug rehab, ptsd, and more as we go on. this is something thats going to affect you please continue at your own risk.
some other notes will be that this is not show accurate entirely, as i said this was VERY self serving and very, fanon, if you will. the pogues and kooks get along, no to little topper or kelce mentions.
[ read before starting series! ]
key | profiles part one | profiles part two | profiles part three | moodboard
[ smau series are labeled as 'part's and written series are labeled as 'chapter's ]
| part one | chapter one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | chapter two | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | chapter three | part thirteen a | part thirteen b | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen | part eighteen | part nineteen | part twenty | part twenty one | part twenty two | part twenty three | part twenty four | part twenty five | part twenty six | part twenty seven | part twenty eight | part twenty nine | chapter four | part thirty |
summary: Rafe gets home late on Christmas Eve from a long day at work. The house is quiet, the kids finally asleep. You’re waiting up for him in soft pajamas, tree lights glowing.
word count: 1k
The house is quiet in a way that only ever happens once a year.
Not the kind of quiet that feels empty but the kind that hums, soft and full, like the walls are holding their breath. The Christmas tree glows in the corner of the living room, multicolored lights reflecting off the ornaments Jace insisted on hanging himself, most of them crooked and clustered too low. Mia’s handmade paper chains droop along the banister, taped in places where tape definitely shouldn’t be, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fix them.
The kids are finally asleep.
You know because you checked. Twice.
Jace sprawled out diagonally across his bed, one sock missing, cheeks flushed with leftover excitement. Mia curled around her stuffed reindeer, thumb tucked in her mouth, lashes resting softly against her cheeks. You lingered in their doorway longer than you meant to, heart full and aching all at once.
Now you’re waiting.
The clock on the stove clicks over to 8:17 p.m. when you hear it, the low rumble of Rafe’s truck pulling into the driveway. Gravel crunches beneath the tires. The engine cuts off. Silence again, just for a second, before the front door opens.
Boots thud softly against the entryway floor.
You smile before you even see him.
Rafe steps inside like he always does after a long day shoulders heavy, movements slow, jacket shrugged off and tossed over the back of the chair. His flannel is dusted with sawdust, hair flattened beneath his beanie, cheeks red from the cold. He smells like winter air and work and something familiar that settles deep in your chest.
“Hey” he murmurs when he spots you, voice already softened.
“Hey” you whisper back, even though there’s no reason to whisper anymore.
He slips his boots off quietly, like he’s still worried about waking the kids, then crosses the room in a few long strides. His hands are cold when they cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he leans down to kiss you—slow, lingering, unhurried.
Merry Christmas is in it.
I’m home is in it.
I missed you is in it too.
“Kids asleep?” he asks softly, forehead resting against yours.
“Finally” you smile. “They were vibrating.”
He chuckles under his breath, that low sound that always makes you feel warm. “Jace told me Santa was gonna need a nap after our house.”
“That sounds right.”
Rafe’s eyes drift past you, toward the living room. The tree. The stockings. The small plate on the coffee table.
He squints.
“…Is that—”
“The cookies” you say, already laughing. “They insisted.”
He groans quietly, pressing his lips together as if bracing himself. “Of course they did.”
You turn to look at them with him. Three slightly misshapen sugar cookies, iced thick with red and green frosting. A glass of milk filled a little too high. A carrot beside it—Mia’s contribution—for the reindeer.
Rafe rubs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I told Jace Santa doesn’t need that many.”
“You also told him Santa works hard” you remind him.
He sighs. “Yeah, well. Guess that’s on me.”
You watch him eye the plate like it’s a challenge. “You don’t have to eat them all tonight.”
“Yes, I do” he says seriously. “It’s my job.”
You snort, leaning into his side as he picks up the plate. “You could leave one.”
“Nope” he says, already heading toward the kitchen. “Santa doesn’t leave evidence.”
You follow him, laughing softly as he sets the plate down and takes a cookie, biting into it without hesitation. Frosting smears the corner of his mouth.
“How is it?” you ask.
He chews, nodding slowly. “Honestly? Not bad.”
“That’s generous.”
He grins. “Don’t tell Jace.”
You watch him eat two more, chasing them with a long drink of milk, before he finally sets the plate down and exhales. “Okay. I might regret that in about… an hour.”
“Worth it.”
“Always” he says, looking at you when he says it.
The house settles around you again. The hum of the fridge. The glow from the tree bleeding into the kitchen. Rafe shrugs out of his flannel, draping it over the chair before pulling you into his arms. You fit there like you always do, cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
“You okay?” you ask softly.
“Yeah” he says after a moment. “Just tired.”
“I know.”
He kisses the top of your head. “But it’s a good tired.”
You pull back slightly, looking up at him. “I got you something.”
His eyebrows lift. “You said we weren’t doing gifts tonight.”
“I lied.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re dangerous.”
You lead him to the couch, where the tree lights spill across the room, and hand him a small wrapped box you’d tucked under the cushion earlier. It’s nothing flashy—brown paper, twine, a little tag written in your handwriting.
He sits, elbows on his knees, carefully unwrapping it like he’s afraid of tearing it. When he opens the box, he goes still.
Inside is a simple leather keychain, stamped with initials—yours and his, and beneath them, two smaller ones: J & M.
Rafe swallows.
“…You didn’t have to” he says quietly.
“I wanted to.”
He turns it over in his hands, thumb brushing the letters. “I carry my keys everywhere.”
“I know.” you smile softly.
His eyes lift to yours, shining just a little. “Thank you, baby.”
He pulls you into his lap, arms wrapped around you, holding you like he might never let go. The world feels small and perfect there—just the two of you, the glow of Christmas, the weight of love built brick by brick over years.
“Merry Christmas Ray” you whisper.
He kisses your temple. “Merry Christmas.”
Later, when you’re curled up in bed together, his arm heavy around your waist, the house quiet again, Rafe murmurs, “Hey.”
“Mm?”
“Next year,” he says softly, “let’s do this again. Just like this.”
You smile in the dark. “We will.”
Because this—this is everything.
a/n: hi lovies! here’s a little christmas special with my favorite little family. this one is extra soft and close to my heart. merry christmas 🎄 i hope you all have the most wonderful day, however you’re spending it. thank you for being here with me this year. i can’t wait to focus on all the new things i have in the works… just know i have some really good stuff coming 🫶🏻
