we're vibin' + thrivin'

[obaex]

˗ˏˋ vee ´ˎ˗ she/her | thirties

mentally on the back of rafe cameron’s dirt bike. spiritually in a hammock with jj maybank. these days i’m more active here: @redeemingvillains

: ̗̀➛ masterlist ╰┈➤ writer’s favorite: you, the ocean & me - jj maybank ╰┈➤ readers' favorite: (not) my girl - rafe cameron

: ̗̀➛ summer reading list (recs) : ̗̀➛ obx behind-the-scenes : ̗̀➛ 1k followers celebration

[obaex]

(not) my girl - rafe cameron

summary: if rafe cameron is so sure he doesn't need to be seen with you at midsummers, you are more than happy to oblige (or) the time you drove rafe insane with jealousy.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: inspired by this post by the sweet @writingsbychlo ♡

You were curled up on Rafe’s lap, head resting on his shoulder with his arms circled around you and his fingers mindlessly tracing patterns on your thigh as he talked with his friends around the firepit in his backyard.

You had been hooking up for a few months and recently you felt like you were right on the cusp of him asking you to make things official, exclusive. You were spending nearly every night together and every time he asked to talk or wanted to hang out you got your hopes up that this would be the time he brought it up, only to be crushed over and over again.

Deep down, you knew how Rafe felt. People who were ‘just hooking up’ didn’t beg you to stay every morning, didn’t make room in their dresser for you, didn’t wake you up with featherlight kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, face breaking into a ridiculous smile when your eyes fluttered open to find his drinking you in, they didn’t call you during a panic attack after fighting with their dad, pleading to hear your voice as the only thing that would calm them down. No, you were pretty sure you knew exactly how this boy felt, but you wanted him to acknowledge it. You ached to hear him say with pride ‘that’s my girl’, to mark you as his own.

Your eyes flitted across the fire to your best friend Olivia who wiggled her eyebrows at the sight of you and Rafe together, all too aware of the situationship you were in and how badly you wanted him. You blushed and rolled your eyes back at her, just trying to enjoy this small moment where he showed his affection for you in front of other people. She winked at you before interrupting the conversation.

“Sooo, who is everyone taking to Midsummers?”

You shot her a look that screamed what the hell are you doing!? You were still holding out hope that Rafe was going to ask you, even though it was less than a week away. Maybe he had an elaborate, last-minute surprise planned?

“Feel pretty good about my date” Kelce murmured, pressing a kiss to Olivia’s cheek as she giggled. “What about you Top, still intent on macking on Rafe’s sister?” he asked. Topper threw an empty beer can at him as everyone laughed.

“I don’t know why we even bother with dates” Rafe said. “We’re just gonna dick around together all night anyway, there’s no point.” He took a swig of his beer without meeting your gaze. You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment and a painful ache in your throat as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spring forward. You met Olivia’s gaze again and she nodded encouragingly towards Rafe.

“W-what about me, Cameron?” you asked, trying to mask your feelings, to sound chill as you poked him in the side.

He looked at you sweetly, “C’mon and say what when my dad asks about you? ‘Hey dad, here’s the girl I’ve been sneaking through the back door every night and smashing while you and Rose are three doors down? Hard pass.” He laughed, focusing back on his beer and his friends as you felt his hand slide off your leg.

You allowed yourself to be genuinely upset for three days.

You didn’t sleep at Tanneyhill for the first time in months, you didn’t even answer his texts which grew increasingly more insistent the more you ignored them. You stayed home, you cried, and you contemplated what the fuck you were doing with your life. Was that really all you were to him – just someone he was sneaking around with? Did you somehow become that girl, too naïve and too stupid to see that she wasn’t and would never be anything more than a hookup?

You thought about the way Rafe reached for you and held you in his sleep, the way his hands ghosted over your body, the things he’d whisper in your ear, the times you’d ridden shotgun in his truck or he’d taken you to his favorite spot on the beach… Your heart was so sure about him, but your head throbbed with the echo of his words.

You and Olivia talked incessantly about it, dissecting everything he’d said. “Maybe he just needs a little push, a little… motivation?” she suggested, and the more you talked about it, the more you realized she was right.

If Rafe Cameron was so sure he didn’t need to be seen with you at Midsummers, you were more than happy to oblige.

The last of the hot summer sun was settling over the ocean as you climbed the front steps of the Island Club in daring three-inch heels; the added height gave your figure a perfect sway that simply begged people to watch you as you walked by. Your dress had a thigh-high slit, open back, and was the perfect color for your skin tone, illuminating you; the neckline was devilishly tantalizing, giving the desired effect of drawing all eyes to the dazzling diamond pendant that reflected the setting sun.

Rafe heard you before he saw you; rather, he heard a sea of murmurs rippling through the crowd which drew his attention to the doors just as you walked through by yourself, essentially announcing to the island that you were alone for the night.

“Geezus” he heard Topper mutter under his breath as he took you in. Normally, he would have known better and normally Rafe would have put his head through a wall for glaring at you the way he was, but even though his fists clenched in response and he wanted to turn and say something to him, he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of you; “Geezus” didn’t even begin to cover it.

You were always undeniably beautiful to Rafe: when you wore his oversized sweatshirt around the fire pit, when you were makeup-less in your wet bikini at the beach, and especially when you were wearing next to nothing tangled up in his limbs and his soft sheets, but the dress you had on, the way your hair shone in the last rays of the sun, the way you were positively radiating had his pulse throbbing in his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing and his palms sweating. Fuck, I am so happy she’s mine he thought to himself, smiling and moving to walk towards you as your eyes met his across the crowd.

You were glowing at him and sent him a discreet smile as you greeted people and made your way in his direction. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, to have you at his side so everyone knew you were his. You approached your friends, dropping a kiss on Topper and Kelce’s cheeks before doing the same to Rafe. You made to move past him quickly, intent on talking to Olivia when he grabbed your hand.

“Hey, hold up you-you look…” he started to say, trying and struggling to find the words to capture the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

Your wide eyes met his expectantly and just when he opened his mouth to speak, they flitted over his shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry, Rafey! Just saw someone I want to catch up with, I’ll see you later” and without another word you walked away, leaving Rafe Cameron, the King of Kildare staring and stuttering after you.

You were walking away from him? he thought. You had seemed so adamant about this whole Midsummers thing, dropping hints about going together and now here he was, practically ready to get down on one knee at the sight of you, and you were walking away from him? He was speechless. He turned to watch you go… right into the arms of another man. He looked to be about your age, the same height and a similar build as Rafe, because of course Rafe was sizing him up, how could he not? This guy had his paws all over his girl. And then, after a moment’s realization, he thought darkly, she’s not your girl…

You had greeted this guy with a huge hug, and he’d nearly lifted you off the ground, now he had your full attention and you were laughing at something he said, the most sweet and perfect sound that Rafe wanted only for himself.

As everyone took their seat for dinner, you intentionally positioned yourself across the table from Rafe. The slight of not sitting next to him where he could run his fingers up your thigh or tangle them in your own left him fidgeting instead, buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket and swirling his drink. What the fuck did I used to do with my hands? he thought angrily.

You paid him no mind, instead, leaning forward on your elbows and toying with the diamond pendant around your neck, fingering it, twirling it and sliding it back and forth on its chain.

“Holy DIAMOND, girl!” Olivia said as she took note of your necklace and leaned over to get a closer look. “Is it new, where is it from?” her eyes shot from you to Rafe and back again.

He glared at you both over the rim of his glass as he took a deep gulp, trying to act unphased but also extremely curious to hear your answer knowing damn well it wasn’t from him.

Your eyes flitted to Rafe briefly before you leaned towards Olivia, lowering your voice, but not so low that he couldn’t hear you. “It was… a gift from… someone special” you said winking conspiratorially at her.

Rafe choked on his drink just as someone was standing up at the front of the crowd to make a speech, shifting everyone’s attention and interrupting the slew of words that nearly poured out of his mouth.

Who the fuck on Kildare fucking Island was buying his girl jewelry? he thought. And then, again, he reminded himself, she’s not your girl… the thought making his whole body tense, rigid and taught in anger and frustration.

For the next 20 minutes, all he could do was stare at you as you twiddled that ridiculous necklace in your fingers, imagining what it would be like to rip it off of you and replace it with something twice as nice. He was mentally calculating how much he would spend and how quickly he could get it when JJ Maybank passed by their table. Rafe had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue until he watched JJ do a double take at you and stop in his tracks.

Don’t do it, Maybank, Rafe thought. Don’t you dare do it.

He watched JJ eye you and the distance between you and Rafe and, deeming it safe, peddled back, pulling a glass of champagne off his tray and handing it to you with a flourish. He knelt down next to your seat and when you turned to talk to him, it left JJ perfectly eye level with your cleavage. He was whispering something to you and you rested your hand on his bicep as you leaned forward to hear him. Rafe could see you blushing, and he watched Maybank take in every greedy eyeful of you. Rafe stood up so abruptly, it knocked his chair over and rattled the plates on the table. Everyone looked up at him, including you, and for the first time that night he had your full attention as your eyes widened at his reaction.

“YN, inside, let’s go” he said simply, walking to your side of the table.

You raised an eyebrow at him and his demanding tone.

“And Maybank if you don’t stop staring at her tits, I will put your face through this table.”

JJ quickly stood up and backed away with his hands raised in surrender as Rafe approached you.

“Rafe we were just—” you started.

“— Inside. Now” he said, taking you forcefully by the arm and leading you inside and into the locker room.

“Rafe! Come on! Stop it! I want to spend the night with my friends, I don’t know what you possibly have to be mad at” you said in resistance.

And that was the very last straw for him.

“WHAT I HAVE TO BE MAD AT?!” he said, incredulous, nearly shouting. “Where do I even begin with you!? You blow me off all week, then you waltz in here looking like an absolute bombshell, wearing next to nothing – I swear to God, I’ve seen you in bikinis with more material - every guy here is leering at you. Then you’re talking to that jackass who had his hands all over you…” he said, exasperated.

At this point he was pacing, his voice continuing to rise in anger and frustration. “…And then Maybank?! Maybank of all people?! He was flirting with you right in front of me. Was it to make me jealous? Is that what this is all about? Because I’m about to lose my fucking mind YN” he said running his hands through his hair, giving you sick pleasure knowing it took him probably an hour to style it. A surprised if not amused look rested on your face as you continued to twirl your necklace in your fingers.

“And who the fuck gave you that” he pointed accusingly at the diamond in your hand, not giving you a single second to respond, “No. Absolutely not. Take it off. Right now” he said, walking briskly towards you in an effort to do it himself.

You held out a hand to stop him.

“I don’t know what the big deal is Rafe” you said innocently. “What difference does it make? I’m just the girl you’re sneaking through your back door every night to smash” you shrugged, your eyes burning at him.

His eyes widened as he heard his own words on your lips.

“No, that’s – that’s not – I didn’t mean” he stuttered.

You gave him a vicious look as you watched the gears turn in his head and he tried to string a sentence together.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that – I shouldn’t have – what I meant was – ahh, fuck it” he said, taking a step forward and closing the distance between you in an instant, one hand holding your face firmly as he pushed you against the lockers and the other coming to rest on the wall beside you, caging you in against him as he pressed his lips bruisingly to yours, devouring you, just like he’d wanted to do all night.

You wanted to stay strong, to argue, to tell him he wasn’t going to win you over like this. But he was. He so so was as he deepened the kiss almost instantly and the pad of his thumb ran across your cheek sending a shiver through your body. When he finally felt you relent and kiss him back, winding your arms around his neck and pulling yourself flush to him he let out a small groan that almost made you forget the whole point of tonight. Almost.

You pulled back, leaving not even an inch between you. The feeling of you kissing him had calmed him down significantly. His breathing had slowed but his cheeks were still flushed and his hair was mussed. He lingered there, his nose brushing yours as he stroked your cheek.

“You’re my girl” he whispered finally.

“Are you asking or telling?” you whispered back.

“Do I really need to ask, princess?” he said, meeting your gaze with his own.

You raised an eyebrow at him threateningly.

He rolled his eyes and said in a sigh, “Be mine?”

You bit your bottom lip and pretended to think about it. “Gosh, I don’t know” you said, pressing a slow kiss to his lips “M’might have to think about it” you said, pressing another kiss there, lingering longer “Mm’might need some convincing” you said, kissing him again and running your hands up his chest.

His voice was low but steady, “I will take you home right now and convince you as many times as you need me to” he said, kissing you back through a smile.

“Deal” you replied sweetly.

You moved to leave but he didn’t let you go and when you met his gaze, his brow was furrowed, his eyes searching yours. “I am serious though, about this, about you” he said. “I’m sorry I fucked up.” He looked uncharacteristically bashful, unsure even. “Really, are you mine?” he whispered.

“Yes, Rafe,” you said as your heart fluttered in your chest “All yours.”

He smiled stupidly, so far gone for you as he kissed you again. You were completely lost in the moment until he muttered against you, “Then please for the love of God will you take that necklace off and tell me who in the hell thought they could buy you something like that?”

You met his eyes strongly, the last embers of your pain crackling there.

“No” you said simply, continuing quickly when he tried to interrupt you. “I’m going to keep it and wear it whenever I damn well please to remind you of what you have and what you sure as hell want don’t want to lose.”

He looked genuinely shocked to hear you challenge him like that and you could see a tic in his jaw as he worked it back and forth in anger.

“I… hate that” he growled. “What if I buy you something nicer?”

You shrugged noncommittally and he shook his head at you. “Fine, let’s get out of here, that dress is killing me and I have a lot of convincing I want to do to you right now.” You giggled as he grabbed your hand and led you back outside, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

When you rejoined the party there were a few murmurs and glances as you hung off his arm. Were you imagining it, or was he taking the long way back to your table, intentionally parading you around the patio and staring daggers at anyone whose gaze lingered too long? Being seen together at Midsummers was basically shouting from the rooftops that you were official. You were glowing, he was too. You said goodbye to your friends and within minutes you were in his truck headed back to Tanneyhill, his hand rubbing circles higher and higher on your thigh, your fingers in his hair.

He threw the car in park and scooped you over his shoulder, carrying you all the way upstairs like that, which had you shrieking in delight. He didn’t set you down until you were in his room and he kissed you feverishly, his hands cupping your face, before his fingers traced your neck, nearing your necklace.

“Rafe” you muttered against his lips, a warning.

“Just tell me who” he muttered back, unable to let it go and kissing you deeper in the hopes of convincing you. “I’m already gonna to buy you a new one, you’ll never wear this again, but I need to know. Can’t stop thinking about someone else with their hands on you” he said as he guided you backwards towards his bed, pushing you gently onto his comforter and crawling on top of you.

“I don’t like it. I do not fucking like it” he growled against your lips. Under his anger, you detected a hint of vulnerability and you broke your kiss just long enough to look into his eyes, which gazed longingly at you as they searched your face. Perhaps you had tortured this poor boy enough.

You sighed, relenting.

“Olivia” you said.

He looked at you, completely confused for only a moment before the realization dawned on his face and he hung his head.

“There isn’t anyone else” he said in equal parts relief, frustration and embarrassment.

You shook your head at him.

“God I’m so fucking stupid” he said.

You giggled before reaching behind your neck to unclasp the necklace and toss it on his bedside table.

He looked at you with heat and tenderness, “I’m sorry that’s what it took for me to get my shit together. I wish it all happened differently, but I don’t regret it. You’re it for me, YN, no one else.”

He placed a kiss beneath your ear, to your throat, to your bare collarbone. “My girl” he whispered against your skin, enjoying how it felt on his tongue and the sound of your sweet laughter in response.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[buckyandlokirunmylife]

I literally just evaporated

[obaex]

🤭 love you, mean it!! thank you my dear!

[obaex]

you ruined my life (by not being mine) - jj maybank

summary: from the moment jj meets you, he’s determined to hate you, and when he can’t hate you, he’s determined to ignore you, and when that doesn’t work and neither does forgetting you, well, what other option is there?

words: 6.8k

a/n: haters to lovers and an ode to the ten things i hate about you despite the fact that i've never seen it 🤭 i'm only two years late in posting this, but who's counting?

Your hair whipped wildly around your face as you struggled to tame it against the wind blowing in from the open roof of Sarah's Jeep.

Her music was blaring and she was singing along at full tilt to her favorite summer playlist; you couldn't help but smile and laugh as she sang to you like she was putting on a show.

Sarah had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, but she had never been as laidback and happy as she was now, from her car karaoke to the loose-fitting shirt and cutoff jeans she was wearing - a stark difference from her designer wardrobe that matched what you had on. And there was no denying that the change in her mood and her appearance could only be credited to her new friends, her new lifestyle, and her new boyfriend John B.

You were... skeptical to say the least.

You'd heard the stories about the pogues, about the smoking, stealing, partying, drinking, heartbreak and drugs that went on on their side of the island.

But the way Sarah talked about them made them seem like so much more: carefree, interesting, loving and funny. So, against your better judgment, you agreed to a day, just one day at the beach with them on the cut.

As you eyed a shore lined with rundown shacks and untamed dunes, you really couldn't believe she'd talked you into leaving behind pool service and mai tais at the Island Club; there wasn't a teak beach chair or trust fund in sight.

You carried your beach bag and helped Sarah roll a cooler against the warm sand to a small group splayed out on a ragtag pile of towels and blankets as Bob Marley played from a cheap, tinny speaker.

John B hopped up immediately upon seeing you to introduce you to everyone.

You waved at Kiara who smiled warmly back at you with a wave of her own, and Pope gave you a big, friendly hug which made you feel incredibly welcome, but the fourth pogue didn't move; in fact he barely acknowledged your existence, he just laid there, head down on his towel, barely lifting his hand to offer a three-finger wave.

"Ugh, ignore him."

"He's hungover."

"Real nice, JJ" they said in unison by way of apology.

JJ was furious.

First, it was John B falling for the kook queen herself, which meant he saw his best friend less and less as John B traded surfing for sitting on her couch at Tanneyhill like a lapdog.

It made JJ sick knowing John B spent his days surrounded by the very people JJ loathed, the very people they all loathed, or used to anyway. Now the kook invasion was spreading as Sarah was adamant about bringing her best friend along. At this rate, they'd be outnumbered by the end of the summer, and where did that leave them? Where did that leave him? This was more than his group of friends, this was his family.

Sure, they all said "P4L" but he was beginning to think he was the only one who really meant it. He knew if he didn't do something, he risked losing everything, so he decided to ignore you, to act like you simply didn't exist, because maybe then you'd catch on that you weren't welcome.

It wasn't until he was sure you had walked away that he even turned his head and cracked an eye to glance at you. You were strolling towards the water with the other girls, and even from this distance, he could tell your bikini was expensive; the way it hugged your body and realistically didn't cover all that much of it. Gold beads were tasseled on the side, and they perfectly matched the delicate gold jewelry you wore: a tennis bracelet on your wrist, an assortment of delicate rings and a simple anklet that glittered in the sun.

He clocked the way your hair shone in the summer sun, how you had a perfect, uninterrupted tan from your shoulders, down your legs, and even on the plentifully exposed skin of your ass, which had his mind reeling.

When you turned your head he could see your side profile, your long eyelashes, and the curve of your lips as you smiled genuinely at Kiara, and he was struck not only by your beauty, but by the kindness in your expression, how intently you were listening to her, how clear it was that you were trying to fit in, that you wanted her to like you.

He felt his heart thrum in his chest, the way it did when his bike skidded out beneath him, and his stomach roiled.

‘S’just my hangover, just my hangover, just my hangover’ he repeated in his head as every snarky comment that he’d wanted to say about you died on his lips.

He didn’t realize he was propped up on his elbows and full-on staring at you until John B threw an empty beer can at him.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad, right?” he said, winking.

JJ shook his head as John B’s words knocked him out of his stupor.

“Nope” he said, laying his head back down and slamming his eyes closed to wash away the mental image of you. “Still a fucking kook” he said as much to John B as to himself.

“Come over to the dark side, man, it’s funnnn” John B teased.

“Fuck you” JJ murmured.

Fuck him indeed.

It was the perfect day to be in the ocean; you reveled at the feeling of the salt on your skin, and the way the cool drops tickled you as they ran down your body on your way back to grab your towel.

You lifted your gaze and caught JJ's eye.

He was sitting up now, leaning back on one hand as he drank a cheap beer with his other. His cobalt blue eyes traced you, narrowed on you like a predator to its prey. You could physically feel the weight of his gaze, but despite the intensity of it, you didn't sense an ounce of animosity there. There was definitely something there, lingering just under the surface that you couldn't put a finger on, but you didn't feel threatened. In fact, it made your cheeks flush, enough that you hoped it would be mistaken for sunburn.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, smiled, and offered a small wave as you grabbed your towel.

"Hey JJ" you said quietly.

"Your highness" he acknowledge snarkily with a fake smile.

"Give it up, JJ" Pope whisper-yelled, kicking sand at him.

Your heart sunk into your stomach. Gone was the indetectable heat, or whatever else you'd thought you'd seen in JJ's gaze, and there in his cold blue eyes was the reminder that you didn't belong here.

With Sarah gone, Figure 8 didn't feel like home anymore, and now it was clear you weren't welcome here either. You suddenly felt extremely alone, unwanted, adrift somewhere in between.

The feeling rushed so quickly over you that your eyes stung. The rest of the group was arguing with JJ, telling him to leave you alone; you knew they didn't feel the same way, so what was his problem?

The sun was fading from orange to the purples of twilight as Sarah pulled into your driveway and you hopped out of the passenger seat before leaning through her open window.

"Thanks for today. I... actually had a lot of fun" you said.

"I'm sorry, are you admitting I was right?!" she asked dramatically.

"Okay yes, you were right" you admitted, laughing, before you fidgeted, getting serious. "M'sorry about JJ though, I don't think he liked me very much. He's... really different from how you described him...?" you said, tapering off, fishing for information, for some kind of explanation.

"I honestly have no clue what his problem is" she said, shaking her head, her face scrunched in thought. "Honestly, don't let it bother you, we love him, but that boy is all over the place."

Fair enough, you thought. Everyone has their off days.

"You know, they're having people over tomorrow" she said, biting her lip and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at you.

You found yourself excited at the prospect of seeing the pogues again, of seeing JJ again, of having another chance to find a way to get him to like you.

"I'm in!" you said through a smile.

You spent more time than you cared to admit picking out your outfit. What said: 'I'm technically still a kook, but I want to fit in here too?' What was pretty but also effortless? What would JJ like? you thought fleetingly, before shaking the notion confusingly from your head.

You settled on a short, flowy sundress from the Kildare surf shop, and you let your hair fall naturally, adding just the smallest touch of makeup to accentuate your natural beauty, which had you radiating with confidence. But when you pulled up to the cut, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach.

You were definitely not on Figure 8 anymore.

There weren't BMWs and Mercedes parked neatly outside, instead a few dirtbikes lay in the grass besides beach cruisers and a couple of clunkers. People everywhere were dressed like they'd spent the last month backpacking through Europe, and some girls were even walking around in wet bikinis. You immediately felt out of place; the different style here another stark reminder that you didn't belong as you tugged at your dress.

Sarah picked up on your discomfort and smiled at you before grasping your hand. "You look great" she reassured you, "Come on" she said as she beelined for your friends.

The minute JJ saw you, he could feel the temperature in his body rise considerably, with anger, clearly, he thought, quickly dismissing the notion that it could be anything else.

"Again with this shit?" he muttered in frustration from his spot on the porch railing next to John B.

"There's a hundred people here JJ, lay off it” John B said.

JJ looked at his friend who had his eyes plastered on his girlfriend, and he didn't have the heart to tell him that he was afraid.

Afraid to get left behind, afraid that at this point in the night they were typically owning the beer pong table and now JJ would be spending it on his own and he wasn't sure he knew how; JJ was barely coping with the one kook that had wiggled her way into their lives, he wasn't willing to give up anything more.

His eyes flitted over you. He hadn't intended to give you anything more than a passing glance, but your dress caught his attention. It was different that what he'd seen you in before, it flowed around your body as it caught the summer wind. Your natural hair made you look less uptight, and he could see the faintest tanlines that traced the pattern of your bikini from yesterday. As you got closer, he picked up the hazy scent of coconut and vanilla, and it triggered something deep in him, something that felt a lot like nerves.

You nearly stumbled at his stare, the same glare he had given you at the beach, like he was angry, but also anything, everything but angry.

Being around him felt like dancing with a live wire, completely unpredictable, and you were more determined than ever to make him like you. You knew in your heart of hearts that if you could win him over, maybe you could find a place here, a place to belong.

"Hey JJ! Is that your bike out front? Sarah said—" you started.

"—Stop. Please, just stop."

You bit your tongue as your eyes widened in surprise at JJ's harsh tone.

"I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work, okay?" he said as he worked his jaw back and forth.

"...What I'm trying to do?" you clarified, fighting a wobble in your voice. "Be nice? Be your friend? Get to know you?" you said, your tone rising.

"You don't want to get to know me, sweetheart" he snapped back.

"Says who?"

"Nah, you waltz in here in that pretty little dress actin' like you want to be everyone's friend, pretendin' to be a pogue, attempting to escape your shitty reality for the summer. I can smell your fake bullshit a mile away."

"I-I'm not being fake. Is it so hard for you to imagine I want to be here? When are you going to get over this whole ridiculous kook versus pogue thing anyway?" you pushed. Wait, did he call me pretty?

You felt your cheeks heat as your heart pounded.

For one millisecond, JJ felt bad as he thought he saw your eyes water. But his sympathy was like a flash of lightning, there and then gone. You were a kook, you didn't deserve it despite how innocent you looked.

"You're all the same" he said, convincing himself as he shook his head. "Waste of my fuckin' time" he muttered, brushing past you without looking back.

And for the rest of the night he avoided you at all costs, because if he didn't see you, he could pretend like you were never there.

Except then you were everywhere.

All the time.

Eclipsing his friends and ruining his summer.

At the beach you spent afternoons picking up trash and combing through shells with Kiara when she was supposed to be surfing with him.

On the HMS Pogue, you and Pope traded theories about a book you had both read when he was supposed to be fishing with him.

You even showed up unannounced to his house, which grated on his last fucking nerve.

He had just gotten home from the afternoon shift, yanking off his ridiculous bowtie, exhausted from another day spent getting berated by and cleaning up after kooks just like you to find you in his kitchen, standing on his counter, teetering precariously near the edge, your short shorts leaving just about nothing to the imagination as your shirt lifted higher and higher to expose your tanned skin as you reached for something.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he growled.

"Ohmygod!" you said, jumping, your hand clasping your heart as you wobbled and nearly fell off the counter. "You scared me."

"I scared you!? This is my house!"

"I-I know, John B said there were snacks up here, I couldn't reach..." You looked down at the bag in your hands. "Is this what he was talking about?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course it is. Sorry they're not gluten free, carb free, keto, your highness, this is what people who work for a living can afford."

"Ohmy god JJ I was just asking a question" you said, huffing, as you moved to get down. "Why do you have to take everything I say out of context? I'm not a bad person."

"No, you're right. You're perfectly perfect. I just come home after an 8-hour shift to find you in my house, eating snacks that I paid for. What did you do all day, huh? Sit on your ass?"

You weren't going to tell him you'd spent the entire day helping fix the dock in their backyard. You just slammed your mouth shut, eyes fiery, and met his gaze with your own.

You had endured months of this to this point, and even though it never hurt any less, knowing that you had found friends that accepted you as one of their own gave you the confidence you needed to stand up to him, even as he towered over you and took a forceful step towards you.

"If you don't want me here, just come out with it, JJ" you retorted. "In case you haven't realized it, everyone else does. In fact, they're more than happy to have me here, I was invited, this is John B's house too."

His eyes met yours directly and despite your quickened pulse, and the way the bag of chips rattled in your shaking hand, you glared back, gazing at the iciness in his blue eyes.

You could see him breathing heavily, could see the tic in his jaw as he scowled at you, the same look he always gave you, burning with the same emotion you couldn't identify, didn't have a word for, as you felt your back hit the refrigerator with an ungraceful clunk.

His pupils dilated slightly at the realization that he had you cornered, completely caged in between his body and the cool surface behind you without even realizing it.

It was only a second.

It happened so quickly that for weeks afterward you would think back to this moment and agonize over whether you had imagined the whole thing, but his eyes flitted to your lips.

You blinked rapidly in surprise, really unsure if you were still breathing as you opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted by Sarah calling for you.

That seemed to pull JJ out of some kind of daze as he shook his head at you and stormed off.

New strategy he thought as he walked to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Since he clearly couldn't avoid you, he'd do everything he could to forget you.

Wiping his mind blank and drinking himself into oblivion seemed as good a plan as any.

That weekend, JJ and John B had people over again.

You had gotten decidedly more comfortable at their parties; you weren't sure if you'd ever trade a dress for a pair of jean shorts or a bikini at 10:00 at night, but at least you weren't self conscious anymore.

You found yourself looking forward to the late nights spent with your friends, laughing at inside jokes and playing drinking games. JJ made himself scarce; you had an unspoken agreement in the way you shared your friends while staying far away from each other.

You made your way inside to get another drink from the secret stash of all of your favorites that John B kept in his room. It was dark to deter people from wandering in there, but as you pushed the door open you heard a loud thump and the distinct sound of breaking glass. You flipped the light on to see JJ hunched over against the wall, holding a broken bottle.

"Jeezus JJ" you said, walking over to him without giving it a second thought.

"M'fine" he said, trying to push you back, stumbling slightly, but the blood pooling in his hand said otherwise. He could barely stand upright, probably as drunk as you'd ever seen him.

"JJ, you're bleeding...here" you said as you reached frantically for a spare t-shirt on the ground and pressed it into his palm.

It burned and he grimaced, leaning over to avoid looking at you, as his head spun. You were cradling his hand so gently in your own that it raged against every lie he'd been telling himself about the kind of person you were.

His head swam in waves of tequila and emotion as he finally looked up, seeing two of you at first until his eyes focused.

"Can I?" you asked, nodding to his hand and the t-shirt growing crimson in his grasp.

All he could think was how tired he was.

So tired.

Tired of arguing, tired of trying to drink you out of his head, quickly discovering there weren't enough shots of tequila to eliminate every image he had stored in his mind.

So while he didn't say anything, he didn't fight you either as you supported his bodyweight and led him into the bathroom where he sat on the counter, swaying precariously on the edge.

You stood between his legs to steady him and to get a better look at his hand in the light.

At this proximity, your perfume completely overwhelmed him. Your touch was so gentle and careful, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had looked after him like this. It made him feel vulnerable. Like he was a little boy again who sat on a counter just like this one to clean his own hands and knees through his tears every time he hurt himself because no one was going to do it for him.

He felt his throat tighten.

What the fuck was happening?

His head was fuzzy. The liquor in his veins made him feel disconnected from his own body; he couldn't even feel his hand, which might have been concerning if he wasn't completely distracted by you instead.

You were gently biting your bottom lip in concentration as you cleaned and bandaged his hand. A strand of your hair kept falling in your line of sight and you swiped at it repeatedly to get it out of your eyes.

Before he could really process what he was doing, he reached out with his good hand and gently grasped the hair in his fingers, toying with it, curling it in his touch before tucking it gently behind your ear.

You stiffened in front of him and he couldn't understand why... you were so nice and so pretty... and you were here doing all of this just for him...His fingers moved from behind your ear to trace the line of your jaw, pressing gently, urging you to look at him so he could see the flecked color of your eyes.

"Looka'me" he mumbled, instantly regretting his request when your eyes met his own.

He didn't understand.

Why did you look so sad? Scared? He knew that look, it was the one you always gave him, the one he could never quite read. His thumb brushed your cheek in an attempt to make it better, but it only seemed to make it worse, your gaze darkening considerably as you stepped out of his grasp.

"No—" he whispered in protest, reaching for you, immediately missing your warmth.

"You are extremely shitfaced right now" you said steadily, more to yourself than to him.

"Sowhat?" he said, swaying, a cocky grin on his face as he tried to make you smile, tried to make everything okay. "S'not a crimet'hava good'time isit?"

"So you're not going to remember any of this" you replied quietly.

And he didn't.

You could pretend to be a pogue all you wanted, but it wasn't enough to get you out of Midsummers, nor going with whomever your parents had picked for you.

It felt so weird to be back on Figure 8 after the last few months, like trying on your favorite pair of jeans only to find they didn't fit you the way they used to.

You looked like a kook, from your floor-length designer dress that hugged every dip and curve of your body, to your flawless nails and perfect hair, and tonight you acted like a kook to appease your parents, talking with their friends, dancing with your date, but you didn't feel like a kook anymore. In fact, you didn't feel anything close to yourself until you'd finally snuck off with Kiara and Sarah and passed a stolen bottle of wine between you as Sarah laid her head on your shoulder.

Your eyes glazed over the seersucker suits and ridiculous headpieces until they rested on a tangle of blonde hair that had you sitting up a little straighter.

"Is JJ working tonight?" you asked.

Sarah and Kiara glanced briefly at each other before nodding.

You hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks, not since the night of the party, an evening that had played like a TikTok in your head that you couldn't scroll past - looped over and over and over again; the feeling of his warm hand on your cheek, the way his fingers twisted your hair so delicately before tucking it behind your ear, even now you felt a little shudder as goosebumps danced on your skin at the memory. 'Look at me' he'd said, the plea in his voice echoing in your ear.

Your eyes followed him in the crowd, and you couldn't help the way your body reacted, the way your pulse raced and your heart fluttered in your chest. And suddenly you had the urge to talk to him, to hear his voice, to feel his proximity. So much had changed between you this summer, maybe he felt the same way?

Just as you stood to walk over to him you saw him approach a group of your guy friends. One of them said something to him and even from here you could tell that JJ said something snarky back, well acquainted with the expression on his face.

The guy took one sip of his drink and threw the rest on JJ, violently, as the rest of the group laughed. You gasped, as your hand flew to cover your mouth. Your heart burst into a million pieces as you watched him pick his head up, his hair dripping wet, and walk inside like nothing had happened.

"I'll be right back" you muttered quickly as you ran after him.

It was mostly empty inside the club and you pushed through the back doors just in time to see him disappear down a distant hallway.

"JJ!" you called after him.

He halted and turned to look back at you. He looked conflicted for only a moment before he kept walking.

"Just what I fucking need right now" he muttered, as he dried himself with a dish towel.

"Hey! Are you—?"

"—No, I can't get you a drink right now, your highness, I'm a little busy."

The biting anger in his words caused you to stop short, like you'd run into a brick wall.

"What? JJ, that's not why I'm here - I would never ask you to get me a drink."

"Open your eyes!" he shouted at you, causing you to jump. "I'm right where I belong, and you are too" he said, gesturing at the distance between you. "This right here? This is the way it should be."

"No part of you getting a drink thrown at you is the way it should be" you said quietly, and he hated the look of pity in your eyes.

"Go back to your date" he said.

His tone and the hint of bitterness and jealousy it revealed caused your cheeks to flush.

"You are infuriating, you know that?" you said, nearly vibrating with anger. "I came in here looking for you to tell you how sorry I am for what happened, to make sure you were okay, because despite all the shit you've put me through, JJ, you matter to our friends, so you matter to me. And I want you to like me. I desperately want you to like me, JJ, because I've never had to work so hard to fit in... I don't fit in anywhere anymore and you're a constant reminder of that."

Your voice wobbled as the tidal wave of emotions you had been riding for the summer crashed over you, pulling you under, but you didn't stop, couldn't stop now.

"God you royally mess with my head because one minute you look like you want to strangle me and the next—"

You stopped yourself, catching your breath as your chest heaved with exertion, biting back the rest of your sentence... and the next, I swear you want to kiss me.

JJ's blue eyes clouded as he looked at you, willing you to say it, challenging you to say it.

You shook your head.

"Forget it. You don't make any sense, JJ Maybank" you said, resigned, as you moved to leave, your eyes brimming with tears that you refused to let him see fall before you said bitterly, "I'm really glad to see your hand is healing well" before you marched back outside, your heels clicking on the floor.

JJ's mouth opened and closed as he watched you leave and then he looked down at his scabbed hand.

He felt pressure behind his eyes at a memory, like a dream; he couldn't tell what was real and what was fake. He smelled your perfume, remembered the urge to touch you, recalled the release he felt as he tangled his fingers in your hair and stroked your cheek, the look in your eyes.

He turned and kicked the kitchen doors open, slumping just inside of them on the floor as his hands raked through his hair.

Weeks went by.

You had stopped hanging out with the pogues, stopped coming to parties, and beach days and lazy afternoons on the boat.

And fuck it if JJ didn't miss you.

He missed the way you laughed, the sound of it.

He missed the way Pope got excited to nerd out with you, finally able to level with someone that liked reading something more than surf magazines.

He missed the way Kie would light up and pull you into a hug, thrilled to have another girl around finally.

He realized you had become a part of this, a part of them, whether he liked it or not. And he realized he was the reason it had all gone to shit.

So when he heard you'd be at the annual bonfire, he told himself he'd leave you alone. Really, he did.

But then he saw you.

You were with a group of kooks and he couldn't help but to think you didn't look like you fit in with them anymore.

It didn't sit right with him, and he didn't like it.

She belongs with us he thought, certain that he'd ruined that the moment he'd let you walk out of the club at Midsummers, pretending that he didn't see the tears in your eyes.

Now, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. He realized after awhile that he was staring, but he didn't care, trying to make up for weeks without you in short glimpses between the crowd.

He didn't like the way the guys you were with were treating you.

He knew them. He heard the way they talked about girls. He watched one of them grab your ass and he shoved his tongue into his cheek, trying to quell the storm battering in his ribcage as he averted his gaze and took a long drink of his beer.

When he looked back, the same guy had his arm around you and JJ swore he wasn't imagining it that you looked uncomfortable; no matter how much he'd pissed you off, you'd never looked at him like that. JJ could feel his pulse in his neck. He wasn't jealous, this just clearly wasn't a good situation for you to be in. He would feel the same way if it was Kiara, or Sarah, right?

The guy grabbed your face roughly, turning you to look at him, and that was it, JJ was walking toward you and shouting your name across the party before he had a moment to think about it.

"YN! Hey!" he shouted, trying to sound casual and friendly, but his urgency and panic shone through.

You turned to face him, your expression deeply confused.

"JJ?" you muttered, like you were seeing a mirage as you took in his messy blonde hair, this backwards cap, the shirt he had on that you knew was his favorite, his rings and his shark tooth necklace.

"Yeah, come on" he said, waving you over with his hand outstretched. "Uh, Sarah needs you or whatever."

"Hey, Maybank, think you could go ahead and fill this up for me?" one of the guys shouted as he tossed an empty red cup at JJ that bounced off his shoulder.

Your heart sank. You knew how much JJ hated these guys, how he avoided them at all costs, and yet here he was, letting their jeers bounce off of him as he looked at you.

He grimaced and you swore you could see him shudder with the effort of not losing his cool.

"Please?" he asked you firmly, his hand outstretched.

Please? Had he just said please? you thought as your feet moved, on autopilot and you placed your hand in JJ's warm grasp. His hand enveloped yours for only a second before he was practically yanking you away from the crowd and down towards the ocean.

"JJ - what? Where is Sarah? Is everything okay?" you asked.

"What the hell are you doing?" JJ asked, breathing heavily with the exertion of dragging you through the party.

"What do you mean what am I doing?" you said defensively. "And since when do you care anyway?!"

You watched a wave of anger wash over him as he dropped your hand, and even though you immediately missed his touch it felt good to stir up an emotion, any emotion in him that could match the way you felt.

"God, I hate you" he said plainly, his face scrunched as he scowled at you.

And even though weeks had passed, his words felt like a knife in your heart, reminding you of every reason you had stayed so far away. Just one sentence and you felt tears building behind your eyes.

"Is that really what you dragged me down here to tell me? Thank you so much JJ, I am well aware" you said, moving to walk past him.

"No, gah - fuck - you don't get it" he said as he reached for your upper arm to stop you, eyes fixed on yours as he continued.

"I hate the little dresses you wear. They don't cover anything, I can see every inch of your tanlines no matter where I look or try not to look. You make it impossible not to stare at you."

You looked at him, confused, as you swallowed and felt your heart constrict in your chest.

"I hate that when you laugh, like really laugh, you squeeze your eyes shut and kick your feet. Your nose scrunches up too.

I hate how you always smell good. We could be on the boat all day and me and John B smell like ass and you smell like you just got out of the shower, like that coconut spray you use. You took my black sweatshirt once and it still smells like you. It smells so fucking good, I haven't washed it yet."

At this point, he had started pacing, his hands on his head, nearly exasperated as the words continued pouring out of his mouth.

"I hate how fucking nice you are to me all the time. It confuses the hell out of me and it doesn't make any sense. I've been an asshole to you and no matter what you're always like 'Hey JJ, I like your bike JJ, I hope you have a good day JJ', my name is always on your lips, your perfect goddamn lips" he said, stopping for a moment to stare at you, to stare at them as he got quieter.

"I hate how happy you make my friends, in ways I don't think I can. I hate how much they love you because I thought that meant they couldn't love me too. I hate how well you fit in with us."

He took a step closer to you, his voice dropping lower.

"I hate how it felt like everyone could dance with you at Midsummers except me. I was stuck making drinks and clearing tables and you were —" he exhaled heavily. "You looked so unbelievably gorgeous that night and I hate that I didn't tell you that."

"JJ" you whispered, tears burning behind your eyes for an entirely different reason now.

But he shook his head, unable to stop.

"I hate how I can't sleep because you're literally all I can think about. It's...exhausting" he said through a laugh. He pulled his hat off of his head and ran his fingers through his hair, avoiding your gaze, gathering himself until he looked at you directly.

"But most of all, I absolutely hate that despite how hard I've tried, I don't hate you at all."

And then he looked at you the way he first looked at you, the way he's always looked at you, in the way you could never quite understand, until now as the gears clicked into place. It wasn't threatening or angry, it was longing. A deep longing, like looking at something you know you can't have, shouldn't want, but need all the same.

"I cannot stop thinking about you. You are in my every waking thought. At Midsummers, when you left? All I wanted to do was grab you, pin you against the wall and kiss you until you forgave me for every single thing I'd ever said to you. I want to know what your lipgloss tastes like, I want to know what your skin against mine would feel like, I want to be the one to make you smile, not make you angry anymore, because I don't hate you, I want you more than anything I've wanted in a long fucking time."

Your chin wobbled and it was all you could manage to take a shaky breath as you searched his eyes. He took a cautious step towards you, closing the distance between you, searching your eyes as his hand came to cup your face, the touch warm and familiar as he waited for your response.

"You are i-infuriating, JJ Maybank, you know that, right?" you said shakily, repeating your words from Midsummers as you shoved him lightly in his chest. He caught your hands, holding them against his heart.

"Yes" he said, his voice a low whisper.

His eyes were burning into you, but despite what you'd said, he pulled you flush against him. He ran his thumb against your bottom lip, gently pulling at it, his callouses tickling you. Your shared pent up anger and frustration hummed, a vibration around you like standing next to speakers at a concert.

In a moment he dipped his head and caught your lips with his own, soft and plush. He wasted no time pushing his tongue into your mouth and you couldn't suppress the moan you let out at the overwhelming relief you felt at finally knowing where you stood with him, and the taste of his lips on yours, like beer and lime. His one hand held your face firmly against his and the other wound against your waist, his fingers pressing into your warm skin enough to make you jump.

"M'Sorry" he mumbled.

But you shook your head, urgent now, as you cupped his cheeks, holding his face against your own, pulling him down to you and letting him steal your breath again and again and again.

Your hands pulled at him like you couldn't get enough, fisting in his shirt before winding around his neck as you pressed yourself against him and he groaned, his fingers dancing under the hem of your dress.

"JJ" you said, breathless.

He'd lost count of the number of times he'd heard his name on your lips, shouting it, yelling it, timid, but never like this, a plea, a beg, a question he was more than happy to answer. He could see your cheeks flush even in the moonlight, the way your lips were swollen and the smear of your lipgloss that he could taste on his lips and his tongue, like strawberries, more delicious than anything he'd imagined and he knew he'd crave it every single day for the rest of his life.

His eyes flitted back and forth between yours, desperately trying not to misread the situation and what he thought he saw there based on what he wanted to see there.

You were blinking up at him before the tip of your tongue ran over your bottom lip before you bit it.

"D'you think maybe we could get out of here?"

Sarah walked through a tangle of people, dodging between them as she searched in vain for you before coming back to John B.

"Hey, have you seen YN?"

"No" he said, "I've been looking for JJ."

They caught each other's eye and she smirked, the grin on her face growing. "You don't think..."

"Absolutely not. No."

It was well past midnight before they got home, shuffling into the darkness of the chateau.

John B tossed his keys aside when he saw the dim light coming from JJ's room and moved to push the door open, ready to tear into his friend for leaving the bonfire without him.

The accusation was on the tip of his tongue before he caught sight of the two of you passed out together: you in JJ's oversized sweatshirt, him with his arms wound around you like he was holding a teddy bear, a soft smile on both of your lips.

He felt Sarah's warmth beside him and looked down at her, the same wicked grin on her face from earlier as she glanced up at him.

"You owe me $50" she whispered through a smile.

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @istilltastesaltwater, @ayy1234567, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @immyowndefender

[enemiestolovershoe]

Sophia gives off y/n vibes

[starkeyvhs-deactivated20250727]

BLOG RECS!

I never pass up any opportunity to recommend my favorite authors on here because what they're doing is equivalent to god's work. their stuff inspires me constantly <3

@runningfrom2am -> absolutely served the obx fandom last year with her rafe, drew, and jj content and is now serving the tom blyth/tbosas fandom

@totalswag -> so much sweet drew and rafe content!! bonus: dad!drew content that will melt your heart :( + rafe content that wil only make you want rafe more

@viawritesstuff -> some of my absolute fav smaus for the pogues!! they're funny, they keep you hooked, and they make you smile

@jjsbank444 -> long fics for rafe and jj that will keep you hooked until the very end. absolutely heart clenching fics and a 100% your cup of tea if you like slowburn romances

@obaex -> some of the most beautifully written blurbs and fics for rafe and jj I have ever read. there is fluff, there is longing and yearning, there is emotion, and I am hooked

@ilyrafe -> the writing goes so hard I am always speechless!! the angst in the rafe fics makes my heart go brrrrr

@zyafics -> series, blurbs, fics for rafe and what not! there's everything you'll ever need, there's no way you can't find refugee in her blog

@jjtheresidentbaby -> obx (and lots other fandoms) agere!! wonderfully written agere content with accurate representation can be hard to find, but they do it so well!

[obaex]

thank you so much for the recommendation, my dear! your words are so kind! ♡♡

[obaex]

your writing is 👩‍🍳😚🤌🏼

stop omg tysm! love you sweet anon!

[gotskamstuff]

[obaex]

ward cameron: 🫢

big john: 🥺

sheriff peterkin: 😢

the turtles: 😭😫😩🫣😨🤮

[islavioleta]

Manifesting the JJ writers come out of hiding🙏🙏🙏

[obaex]

🫡 reporting for duty

[oceandriveab-deactivated2025032]

abbbbbbbbiiiiiiii HI! how are you love <3

HIIIIIII VEE!!!! i’m good hru?!?!!!!! 😁😁😁😁

[obaex]

babe im fab!!!! i feel like i’ve missed so much! legit devouring all the new content though… we are being feddddddd!!!

[obaex]

OMG hi 😭😭😭😭😭😭

BABE! HI! not me coming out of retirement after bingeing season 4 - how are you??? tell me everything! i’ve missed you!

[ashstfu]

remember what’s really truly important in life : local bookstore

[obaex]

ugh! your writing style is everything and your hockey series is SO GOOD! Love your content <3 - Nia ♡

stop why did this make my whole day, week, month, year!!! i really needed to hear this! it warms my whole heart to know there’s even one person out there vibing with what i write. ♡♡

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 2)

summary: with the stakes of your relationship on the line, can rafe pull off the impossible to win you back?

word count: 6k 🫣

a/n: i love you all for the love on this lil' series!! ♡ toxic hockey rafe has me in a chokehold, so i promise this will not be the last you see of him!! apologies in advance, you will basically be attending a full hockey game here, i tried my best to explain all the lingo!

(part one)

The arena was packed even though you were there early, arriving alone because the other girlfriends and wives were always late, which simply wasn't in your DNA.

Your dad was a coach growing up, so you spent countless hours in empty rinks, arenas and stands; his rule for games was that you were in your seat early enough to see the starting lineup and the national anthem, no exceptions. Truth be told you liked being there when the lights went down, when the music amped up, you loved the anticipation of a new game.

You didn't mind sitting in the cold seat, hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate that you got from the same concession stand every time. Hockey players were notoriously superstitious and by extension now you were too; just like they had their pregame rituals, so did you: same parking spot in the VIP lot, same hot chocolate from the same concession stand, same seat in section 106. You were in the lower bowl of the arena, a few rows back from the ice, facing the bench, nearly eye-level with the team.

You let your mind wander and tried not to think about Rafe but it was impossible, this place was Rafe to you; from the feeling of the cold air on your cheeks and fingers, to the damp and crisp smell of the ice and the sounds of the fans and ambient pregame music, all of it was a part of your love story, all of it was him. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt like you thought it would, rather it felt like coming home after a semester at college, foreign but familiar.

You swiped at your phone, a nervous tick, even though you knew there wouldn't be anything there, which was a good thing, Rafe needed to be focused on the game, so you slid your phone into the cupholder next to you and resorted to tapping your heeled foot nervously.

The seats around you filled quickly and sure enough the other girlfriends and wives arrived just as the lights were dimming, offering cheek kisses and sympathetic hugs, well aware of your situation. Your best friend Morgan slid in next to you, pulling you into her side.

"It's selfish, but I'm glad you're here" she said, loud enough to be heard over the music and the announcer as her brown eyes traced your face sympathetically.

"I'm fine" you lied with a forced smile. Totally fine you thought. Not the love of my life who broke my heart then skated over it trying to win me back in the middle of the semifinals.

You decided to keep all of that to yourself, because truthfully it was ridiculous. It was juvenile. And it was never going to happen. And you didn't want it to happen anyway, you reassured yourself. Right?

You shook your head as you turned your attention to the starting lineup as Rafe's name boomed over the loudspeaker, the cheering noticeably louder from the crowd. He was a fan favorite, beloved for his fast and aggressive style of play. He wasn't afraid to two-hand someone when the referee wasn't looking, to stand up for his team, to battle for the puck. He was chippy, gritty, and he's on the first line tonight you thought to yourself, a spot reserved for the very best players, putting them in the best scoring position. But surely that's not in any way related to our deal... you mused.

You stood on your tiptoes to see him over the crowd in front of you. He was standing at center ice under the spotlight, his helmet tucked under his arm as he shuffled side to side on his skates, face unsmiling, focused as he looked between his feet and the empty ice in front of him. Your heart leapt uncontrollably at the sight of him; God he's beautiful you thought as your body hummed in recognition and longing, completely betraying you.

The tension and animosity in the arena were thick. You had faced the opposing team a few times in the regular season and it did not end well.

As in, you'd lost every time.

As in, Rafe left the last game with a five-minute major penalty and a black eye after an all-out brawl.

Now the fans were itching for a rematch and you were simply hoping for everyone to leave in one piece. That was the difference between being a fan and being someone who cared deeply for the boys on the ice, it wasn't a spectacle to you anymore. You watched as Rafe's wingers Nick and Andrew stood beside him, followed by two defensemen and your goalie as the national anthem wrapped up.

Everyone took their seats as the lights came back on and the music came on again too, urging the fans around you to cheer, and for you to resume the incessant tapping of your foot as you leaned forward in your seat, laser focused on the guys lining up for the faceoff.

"Girl, you good?" Morgan asked, taking in your nervous energy.

"Hmm?" you responded distractedly, barely glancing at her. "Yeah, yeah m'fine" you said.

You were always more into the game than the other girls, but that didn't account for the clear tension and anxiety rolling off of you in waves, nor the way you were immaculately dressed, which didn't go unnoticed either.

Rafe skated to center ice, equally sized with the opponent at faceoff as the referee dropped the puck. It had barely clattered to the ice before Rafe had gained possession, shouldering his opponent out of the way and barreling towards the offensive zone with a burst of energy like a gunshot that had the crowd almost immediately back on their feet, pulling you along with them.

"OK, I'm sorry, what is happening here?" Morgan said as she watched him.

He was a man possessed, head down, focused, ignoring his teammates as they called for the puck to set up a play, like he was trying to do it all himself. Like he was trying to score. He flipped the puck towards the goalie, who blocked it and possession shifted as he skated backwards on defense, your heart settling in your chest.

Rafe always played with intensity, but with the way he was playing now, he wouldn't make it through the first period. You thought there would be a reprieve on defense, but he was diving for the puck, playing to steal rather than defending his zone. He looked like a maniac.

Until it worked.

The crowd was back on their feet as he and Nick had a breakaway two-on-one, both of them racing towards the net together with only one defender standing between them and the goalie, the rest of their teammates striding to catch up with them. Nick called for the puck, slapping his stick on the ice, but Rafe deked the defender, faking him out before approaching the goalie and tipping the puck into the small pocket over his shoulder, swishing it effortlessly into the net.

The arena erupted as the goal horn blared and you found yourself jumping up and down, overcome with excitement and emotion. You could physically feel your heart beating. This is totally normal you thought. It's totally fine to score a goal in the first two minutes of the game, on his first shift, against the toughest team in the league.

You watched players pile on him in celebration before they all skated back to the bench, bumping fists with their team before taking a seat on the bench. Your eyes were glued to him, and his were on the jumbotron above center ice, watching his own replay before the coach approached him, grasping his shoulder angrily, and you could imagine why. He had been reckless, he had been lucky. Rafe nodded, but ultimately shook him off and refocused on the resumed play. Players zoomed in front of you and your eyes zipped to follow them before you glanced ever so briefly back at Rafe, who was unmistakably looking at you and smiling.

You swallowed to hide the emotions on your face, not giving him a single inch as you focused on the play.

You loved watching hockey, but it felt different when Rafe was on the ice, like he was a magnet, the only thing you could focus on, and his next shift was no different. He was playing like a madman and within seconds you could hear the coach shouting. Rafe turned up emptyhanded this time and the coach was visibly angry as Rafe skated to the bench, going so far as to yell back at him, which had you holding your breath; you had never seen him do that before.

Nick reached for Rafe's shoulder to calm him down and then they started bickering back and forth. Your attention was now split between the two of them and the action on the ice when you saw Nick physically rear back at something Rafe had said, the motion grabbing your full focus. Nick covered his face with his gloved hands, looking back at Rafe and then repeating the motion before he glanced up at the stands, at you, and shook his head, resigned. Were they talking about you!?! you thought. Had Rafe just told him what's going on?

You were so caught up that you missed the play as the other team scored. The game was tied 1-1. The arena echoed with boos as their bench erupted in cheers. You looked up at the clock: 2 minutes left in the first period.

Rafe and Nick got onto the ice for their last shift and the second the puck dropped, they were off as a duo, Nick's intensity now matching Rafe's own; they were bodying guys, tag-teaming as they raced into the offensive zone. Nick had the puck and passed to Rafe, and almost immediately Rafe was cornered by two extremely large defensemen who pinned him to the boards as they tried to steal the puck. But he wouldn't relent, throwing his elbows and trying to wiggle free, desperate and angry as the buzzer sounded for the end of the period.

And yet they didn't let him go. The crowd started shouting and everyone was on their feet as Rafe dropped his stick, turned and grabbed them both by the front of their jerseys, shoving them as the benches emptied and other players joined in, piling on top of one another until you lost sight of Rafe in a mess of limbs, equipment and jerseys. You were craning to see over the ecstatic fans, egging on the fight as the referees raced to break it up, pulling bodies off of one another until they reached Rafe.

His helmet had come off and as the referees skated him towards the locker room, he was shouting at the opposing team who skated after him, riling each other up before he yanked himself out of the ref's grasp and marched off the ice through the tunnel.

Period 1: Game Tied. 1-1.

You let out a deep sigh before collapsing back in your seat. You took a shaky inhale before exhaling and you felt a set of eyes on you.

You turned to see Morgan looking at you with an eyebrow arched.

"You're really going to sit here and act like you don't know what's going on? I know that boy texts you his every thought."

You opened your mouth, an excuse, a lie ready before she interrupted you.

"-- And I KNOW you didn't block him like you said you were going to, so don't try me. What the hell is going on?"

You bit your lip at that, glancing between her and the ice where the zamboni was running clean lines across the cold surface.

You gave a halfhearted shrug, "You know how much he wants to win, how much this means to him."

She doubled down her glare.

You sighed, avoiding her gaze before looking back to her.

"I made a deal with him" you nearly whispered.

A few of the other girls snuck by you both, causing you to shift in your seats as she leaned in and whisper-shouted at you:

"I'm sorry what!"

"If he scores four goals tonight, I said I'd get back together with him."

"You're joking" she said flatly. "Please tell me you're joking."

You pursed your lips with a small shake of your head.

"The two of you" she said as she let out an exasperated laugh. "Unbelievable. You can't stay away from each other and yet you’re willing to bet the stakes of your relationship on a game. I can't" she said, throwing her hands up in defeat.

She paused, getting serious for a moment.

"Are you sure you even want to get back with him, is that really such a good idea hun?"

"Morgan, he's never going to score four goals, it's like, impossible."

"Are you watching the same game I am?" she said emphatically. "Cause your mans sure is gonna try and you better ask yourself what you're going to do if he does."

There was a whisper of truth to what she was saying. It was probably impossible, but not completely out of reach. And what would you do? Your heart trilled. You would be ecstatic the devil on your shoulder said. You would be screwed said the angel.

Your phone buzzed in the cupholder next to you and swiped it open.

You grasped at your phone. Rafe never had his phone between periods, none of the players did, it was basically sacrilegious. They had just enough time to get treatment, catch their breath, hydrate and listen to their coach and he was on his phone!? You put yours down and tried to rearrange the smile creeping onto your face as you saw the teams rejoining the ice for the second period.

Just like before, Rafe was off like a rocket, but the other team was on to him this time, doubling his defensive coverage, making it nearly impossible for him to skate, let alone make a play. He had put a target on his back with the fight at the end of the first period, so even when he didn't have the puck, you could see the other players go after him, a stick in his skates, a slash at his side, heads turning to chirp at him as they lined up for faceoffs. But he didn't slow down for a moment, battling twice as hard now, coming back to the bench after each shift uncharacteristically exhausted, heaving with his elbows on his knees.

You watched him and felt overcome with emotions as the realization hit you: Rafe wasn't good at expressing himself, he wasn't a 'feelings' person, he didn't always know what to say, which is why sometimes words came better to him over texts when he had more time to think about it. But hockey? Hockey was his language. He couldn't tell you how sorry he was, how much he wanted to fight for this, but he could show you. He could play for you, he was playing for you, putting his body on the line, trying his all-out hardest, not a single person in the arena could deny that as they watched him tonight. He wanted this. Badly. Which meant he wanted you, badly. You felt a flush of warmth in your cheeks that had nothing to do with your lukewarm hot chocolate as you watched him slide up the bench for his next shift.

You looked up at the jumbotron. There were only 12 minutes left in the second period, and the game was still tied at 1-1.

What were you going to do if he scored four goals?

What were you going to do if he didn't? felt like the more pressing question. He was running out of time. If something didn't happen now, he would have one period left to score 3 goals, and that was simply not going to happen. I shouldn't have made the number so high you thought guiltily.

Your eyes glanced back to the ice as he clambered over the boards in the midst of a shift change. He was skating methodically, not slower, but maybe more strategically and you were sure his energy was waning even if it didn't look like it.

Suddenly, Nick picked the puck off an opponent and Rafe raced to skate with him, crossing into the offensive zone with several of their teammates. Nick had a wide open shot, and he brought his stick back for a slapshot before turning at the very last moment and passing to Rafe who had positioned himself near the goalie. The puck banked off his stick and ricocheted into the goal.

You were on your feet again, jumping up and down in Morgan's arms as the boys piled onto each other. The crowd was alive again as the team took a 2-1 lead, 5 minutes left now in the second period.

Morgan looked at you, shaking her head before shouting something you couldn't hear over the crowd. You shook your head back before she leaned in closer.

"Is Nick in on this shit?" she yelled.

You looked at her, confused.

"Why else wouldn't he take that shot? It was wide open."

The idea of Rafe recruiting his best friend and linemate into this made you lightheaded and giddy. As you looked back at the bench, the two of them were shoulder to shoulder, looking right at you and Nick waved, a goofy little smile on his face for the briefest of seconds before his attention returned to the game.

Period 2: Eagles winning. 2-1.

The period ended and you spent the last intermission glued to your seat as everyone around you got up to get food and drinks, your mind spinning.

One period. Twenty minutes left for Rafe to score 2 goals. It was still nearly impossible, but didn't feel as insurmountable as before and you still weren't sure what you wanted the outcome to be. You were staring into middle space, questioning your entire relationship when your phone buzzed again in your cupholder. You swiped it open.

Two hearts.

Two goals.

You smiled widely, rolling your eyes before giggling like a little girl. You wanted to respond, and your fingers lingered over your screen, but he still had no business being on his phone, and what could you possibly say anyway?? "Nevermind!! Let's get back together despite all the shit you put me through!"

Ugh.

The third period was simultaneously the slowest and quickest 20 minutes of your life.

Rafe was battling, and the other team battled back, getting chippier and chippier as the teams exchanged penalties and breakaways, but the score stayed the same. You could feel the crowd's excitement at the prospect of scraping through this game with a one-goal lead; a good enough result to make them happy, but you couldn't deny the disappointment you felt as you were playing an entirely different game.

As time whittled down you felt yourself getting emotional as the odds were stacked against Rafe, stacked against both of you. Ten minutes. Eight. Five. Three. You could feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes as your foot continued to tap, eyes glancing anxiously between Rafe, the bench, the players and the jumbotron that counted down the time unceasingly.

Morgan reached for you, winding her arm around yours and grabbing your hand, a sad smile on her lips. You both knew this wasn't going to happen. There was just no way. You could sense that Rafe could feel it too, he was getting more and more desperate, scrambling after the puck, making sloppy mistakes that made you feel guilty, the most so when the other team scored… tying the game.

And then what felt like the final twist of the knife: with less than 1 minute left, they scored again, capitalizing on the dashed morale of the Eagles to take the lead 3-2. It was like someone sucked the air out of the arena. Rafe was on the ice, on his knees and all of the players looked so defeated.

Fuck fuck fuck was all you could think as they regrouped with their coach to come up with their last play, their last chance to tie the game. You leaned forward, desperately trying to read lips as if you could somehow decipher the plan. The ref blew the whistle and the coach sent guys on the ice, leaving Rafe behind, and your stomach dropped: he wasn't even going to get a chance.

Rafe argued and you could see him yelling and gesturing wildly as the coach yelled back. The ref blew the whistle again and you knew they were dangerously close to getting a delay of game penalty. A ripple of confusion went through the crowd as they watched the argument unfold and you wished you could sink into your seat and disappear.

The coach shouted something that seemed final before Rafe took one look at him, ignored him and skated onto the ice, swapping with Nick who slid onto the bench, head bowed, ashamed, as the coach berated him.

At this point, Rafe had been on the ice way longer than he should have, he was making mistakes, and now he was putting his career, his contract on the line as he stepped up to take the faceoff.

The puck dropped and the battle ensued as the teams fought back and forth. Their team took a shot on goal that had you holding your breath as the time ticked down.

There were less than 20 seconds left as the puck rebounded towards Rafe and he guided it with his stick, taking off down the ice faster than you'd ever seen him skate; in just three strides he had nearly covered the length of the rink, leaving all of the other players trailing behind him as he squared off with the goalie.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" the crowd shouted.

You were on your feet, grasping Morgan's arm for dear life, certain you were leaving a mark as you continued to hold your breath.

Rafe shot the puck and it hit the goalie's leg pad, but bounded right back to him.

"Three! Two!"

He shot again and the goalie fell forward, but the crowd behind the goalie erupted and the official lit the lamp behind the goal - he had scored.

The puck had slid between the goalie's legs and Rafe exploded with energy, ripping down the ice and jumping into the glass in front of you as his team piled on top of him and the crowd went ballistic as fans threw their hats onto the ice to celebrate his hat trick - three goals scored.

You were jumping and screaming with the other girls, a few tears escaping your eyes in relief and excitement, overwhelmed at the entire situation.

Three goals.

He'd scored three damn goals, a new career record for him. And now they were in overtime.

Period 3: Game tied 3-3. End of regulation play.

"Wait! Wait! What the hell happens now!?" Morgan asked breathless, looking to you as the only girl that knew a thing about the rules.

"Overtime" you huffed, trying to calm yourself. "Another 20 minutes, first team to score wins."

"Was that part of the deal?" she asked.

"It wasn't not part of the deal?" you said. "We didn't really get into specifics" you laughed, rolling your eyes.

You glanced at the bench as both teams hydrated and listened to the coaches. Rafe's teammates were still all over him, smacking his helmet, arms slung around him. The coach said something to him and he put his hands up in surrender as he sat on the bench and his teammates took the ice.

Your eyes were glued to Rafe but unlike before his didn't meet yours and for a second, you didn't know how to take that. You craved that acknowledgement from him, but you also recognized the look on his face; he was totally 100% focused, eyes fixed on the action on the ice. He wants to win you thought. Or maybe his focus was for something else.

Within a few minutes, his line was up and they jumped on the ice. He was playing smart now, conservative, concentrated and gathered, a stark difference from before. He was strong on defense, backing his team up as they played perfectly off of each other, which paid off when Nick stole the puck and shouted as he passed the puck up the boards to Rafe who sprinted after it, just a stride in front of a defender.

"Oh my god" you heard Morgan mutter as everyone stood to their feet and even though the roar of the crowd was deafening, you swore you could hear every scrape of Rafe's skate against the ice, the clatter of the puck as the play moved in slow motion to the beat of your heart.

Another stride and Rafe was alone in the offensive zone, the defender just a hair behind him.

Was this really happening? Was he about to end the game, to score a fourth goal?

Another stride and he was eyeing the goalie, lining up his shot.

He maneuvered his stick and just as he was about to shoot, the defender dove, thrusting his stick in Rafe's path, causing them both to tumble onto the ice and into the goalie, the puck sliding away, abandoned as the refs blew their whistles. No goal.

Rafe was down for only a second before he stood up, grabbed his stick and swung it with full force, snapping it in half over the boards in front of him in rage and frustration, causing the fans behind the glass to jump and spill their beer on each other.

Two of the refs were frantically skating towards him, waving their arms and blowing their whistles, but your eyes drifted to the head referee who was standing next to the officials box, watching a small computer screen, a replay. Almost immediately he nodded, handed back the screen and raised his fisted hands over his head and crossed them and you let out an uncontrollable shout of excitement as you grabbed for Morgan.

"What! Oh my god! What is going on!!?" she shouted back, and all you could do was laugh and shout as you jumped up and down and pointed to the referee.

"You are the ONLY ONE HERE who knows what that means!" she shouted. "What does it mean!!!?"

"A PENALTY SHOT!" you shouted back.

Your eyes shot back to Rafe who had clocked the same thing and was skating back to the bench. The equipment manager handed him a new stick and now the arena was abuzz with the same information as the announcer explained that Rafe would have the chance to score one on one against the goalie, with all of the other players off the ice. A golden opportunity.

The fans were ballistic. You could barely hear yourself think, could barely process your emotions as you struggled onto your tiptoes again to see over the raised hands and jumping fans as Rafe skated methodically to center ice, alone.

He skated back and forth, side to side with crisp turns like a predatory shark before he stopped at center ice, hands on his stick on his knees, eyeing the goalie before his head turned slowly and he looked right at you. Even amidst the chaos, you could see his signature smirk before he refocused and gathered the puck in his stick.

He was going to score.

You just knew it. You knew by the look on his face, by the stride of his skates, by the confidence in his gait.

"He's going to score" you said out loud, quietly, to yourself, a revelation before you turned to Morgan who was solely focused on the scene unfolding on the ice. You tugged on her sleeve, desperate for her to understand the weight of what you had just said.

"He's going to score, Morgan" you said, louder, matter-of-factly.

"Well SHIT I hope so!!!!" she shouted back without looking at you, now completely wrapped up in the game.

She didn't understand.

He was going to score.

And that meant he was going to be yours again.

Your eyes found the ice and you watched as he approached the goalie, goading him out of the goal, faking him out before wrapping the puck around his leg and tipping it upward.

The goalie dove backwards at the last minute and 15,000 fans held their breath as his gloved hand extended, brushing the edge of the puck, causing it to wobble, but without enough force to change the course of fate as the puck swooshed into the net.

The goal lamp lit up.

The goal horn sounded.

And if you thought the arena was loud before, it reached a new level as fans screamed, shouted, jumped up and down and embraced each other.

You felt realization ripple over you, your gaze stuck on the ice. Stuck on the image of the goalie flat on his back, defeated. Stuck to Rafe who had ripped his helmet off, discarded as he let out a roar of victory before getting bombarded by his teammates who piled on him in celebration.

End of OT. Eagles win 4-3.

Morgan yanked you into her by your shoulders, hugging you and jumping up and down, but an unexplainable calm had settled over you, gluing your feet to the ground.

You should be excited, you were, but instead you felt like you were having an out-of-body experience. What the hell had just happened? Rafe had scored four goals, had led his team to the finals. Had he done it for himself? Of course. But wasn't a part of it for you too?

You turned and looked back at the ice, desperate to catch his eye, to talk to him, to figure this out as chaos rained around you. The players skated to center ice with their sticks raised to salute the fans before skating away, Rafe leading them quickly into the tunnel without so much as a look at you. Not even a cheeky smile or a blown kiss, which you used to get after every game. What the fuck.

Morgan shook your shoulder.

"Babes, now what?!" she asked, excited, curious, anxious.

You looked at her, lost. You had no idea. Did you text him? Were you just back together again? How did this work?

The lights dimmed as the announcer drew the crowd back in to introduce the three stars of the game - recognizing the three standout players of the night. The third star was your goalie, who stopped an unimaginable number of shots and you cheered for him as he skated solo onto the ice in a spotlight, taking a spin around the ice before tossing a t-shirt into the crowd to an excited fan.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, your mind incapable of thinking of anything but Rafe. You grabbed your phone. No new texts. The players were all in the locker room by now. Sure, they were partying and celebrating, but if he had time to text you in the middle of the game, couldn't he text you now??

Nick was the second star of the game and you glanced up from your phone to see him doing the familiar skate around the ice, waving to Morgan who blew him a kiss back, but you glanced back at your phone, willing a text to appear, opening and closing your texts, refreshing the app, messing with your wifi. Surely it was the internet connection you thought, now desperate to hear from him.

"Come on Cameron" you murmured to yourself.

"Okay, what is he doing?" you heard Morgan laugh and you looked down to the ice to see Nick still circling around, backwards, forwards, pumping up the crowd who roared around him as he gathered a t-shirt to throw. You were thrilled for him, really, but you resumed your focus on your phone. Should I turn it off and turn it back on again? you thought.

The lights dimmed further and the deep voice of the announcer reverberated, "Ladies and gentlemen, your first star of the game, with an unprecedented four goals, including your game winner--"

"Uhhh YN" you heard Morgan say.

But you were too distracted, too afraid to look away from your phone in case you missed a text coming through.

"--Rafe Cameron!!!" the announcer said, the spotlight shining on the tunnel, and your eyes shot up at the sound of his name, only to find the ice empty.

You felt Morgan tug harshly on your sleeve and when you finally looked back to her your stomach barrel-rolled and your heart shot into your throat.

Standing unmistakably next to her in the aisle was Rafe, still fully suited in his gear and pads, towering over everyone like a giant, his skates traded for his training shoes. Pieces of his hair were clinging to his forehead and his face was rosy with exertion, sweat dripping down his temple in rivulets.

He was smiling confidently at you, and unlike the last time you had seen him in your car, his eyes were unwavering and transfixed on yours, even when the fans around you turned around and noticed he was there, even when phones were whipped out and shouts and cheers went up, he ignored them; he only had eyes for you.

"How--" you started to say, your phone completely forgotten as he started to nudge his way past the people at the end of your row to walk fully into the seats next to you.

"Ohmygod, ohymgod" Morgan was saying as she clambered out of the way of his bulky frame and suddenly he was towering in front of you.

He was breathing heavily; with how quickly he made it up here it was no wonder he had been sprinting off the ice and into the tunnel. His face searched yours, eyes twinkling, flitting over your lips, searching for a sign, a signal, a hint of how you were feeling. And you weren't sure you could have expressed it even if you could form words.

He leaned down next to your ear and you could feel the sweat and the heat radiating off of him.

"That was four" he said, breathless and husky before pulling back, but not as far as before, his nose brushing yours.

The spotlight was sweeping the empty ice, looking for him as the announcer tried awkwardly to fill the air time, wondering where he was.

All you could do was meet his gaze, staring into his crystal blue eyes.

And all you could see was your Rafe.

Sure, he had his issues, but you knew he was sincere, you knew he was trying and you acknowledged that despite everything he was probably the love of your life.

"We didn't agree on overtime goals" you said loudly back at him to be heard over the crowd.

For a moment you could see fear, panic and a hint of hurt cross his face; if you didn't know him as well as you did you wouldn't have seen it, it was nearly indetectable. But he took one look at your sly smile, your blushing cheeks, your eyes rimmed with tears.

"C'mere" he said roughly, ignoring you as his warm and sweaty hands that smelled unmistakably like his gloves grabbed your face and pulled you towards him as his lips enveloped yours, engulfing you, bold, brazen and completely unabashed as he full on made out with you, chaotically, his tongue slipping into your mouth, even when you tried to wiggle away, more out of a sense of decorum than anything as a feeling seeped through every inch of you like he was mending every wound in your body.

He was sweating all over you at this point, but you didn't care. You could feel it dripping on you. You could taste it in his kiss, mixed with the tang of yellow gatorade and your fingers grasped for purchase on his jersey as you tried to balance yourself against the force of him pressing into you.

The crowd around you erupted, as the flash of pictures being taken lit the two of you. He was unrelenting and you could feel yourself flushing as much from his attention as from the heat radiating off of him. It definitely went on longer than it should have, longer than any right-minded couple would have made out in front of thousands of fans before he paused just long enough, his lips still hovering on yours and said through a growl, "You're mine, baby."

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444, @rafescurtainbangz, @romiiq, @dkjndfnmdfmdmnd, @warriorblu, @ietss, @tiaamberxx, @zyafics, @maybankslover, @saintchxx4, @akirkland, @cameronspecial, @f4ll-for-you, @diduzzula, @user123453226780536, @zizuras, @imabigback, @rowans-posts, @mymultiveres, @drewsphswife, @fangirlwithlou

[jjsbank444-deactivated20250721]

OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY the whole hockey scene HAD ME ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT!!! The way you wrote the entire thing is sooo professional and incredible I actually felt like I was at the game🤭🤭

And you know how I feel about baby boy but you also know how I would have folded like a deck chair just the same if he scored me 4 goals🫠

The writing is INCREDIBLE as always and I’m obsessed with everything that you put out, sincerely your biggest fan<333

[obaex]

babes!!! the way i love you 🥹 thank you so much for your sweet words. folded like a deck chair is me! i am her, she is us, and that’s that.

ilyilyily ♡

[obaex]

ps: hi 🤗

i’ve been taking a little break for the mental health and to be more present in ✨the real world✨ but i miss you cuties! plus i have some goodies in my drafts that i realllyyy want to share so i may be popping on here and there.

*mwah!*

[rafescurtainbangz-deactivated20]

a little hockey!rafe Moodboard for @obaex

Also just dreaming about what his gameday suit would look like 🤭

[obaex]

the way i am out loud screaming at this! the jersey?!?!? bye. goodbye. this is toxic hockey rafe incarnate. i am unwell.

[obaex]

toxic hockey bf!rafe cameron

"Babe! Babe! Babe! Look!"

You were bouncing around his apartment like a damn maniac, and Rafe could feel the beginning of a headache setting in as he dragged a hand over his face and looked up from his phone.

You were standing in his living room in an oversized jean jacket with your back to him, head turned over your shoulder to meet his gaze.

"Look!" you said again, excitedly.

His eyes glided over the jacket where he could see his last name and jersey number emblazoned in large sparkling letters and numbers.

"All the girls got them, do you like it!?" you asked eagerly.

Rafe wasn't big on "feelings" so he wasn't going to sit there and tell you how cute you looked, all excited as you danced on your tiptoes, eager for his approval, how your thousand-watt smile melted his heart, how the sight of you wearing his last name stirred something so deep in him, he felt his stomach flip, that that scared him.

So, instead, he quickly rearranged the feeling of a grin on his face and nodded nonchalantly.

"Yeah, s'nice" he said, before glancing back at his phone in an effort to slow his beating heart, to come up with a retort.

"It'd look better off of you" he said, smirking.

But you had caught the smile he tried to hide, the twinkle in his eye, and that was all you needed to see to know just how he felt as you crawled next to him on the couch and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @ietss, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @jjsbank444, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer