Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways
Setting: When they met…
Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+, Typos! (Unedited)
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
PART ONE (1)
8 years ago…
Isobel had always been a timid girl, well, from what she could remember in the fourteen years she’d been alive. She liked making friends and even had more than a few, but the act of meeting someone new made her body fill with nerves.
Nervous was an understatement for how she felt walking up to the home of her father’s new business partner with her parents close behind her. Isobel had been informed this meeting would be happening, but it did nothing to help her abate her anxiety on the matter. Her heart still pounded in her chest and mouth still dried out at the thought of having to interact with strangers. In that moment she wondered if she was at an age where it was shameful to hide behind her mother.
For the past year she’d been hearing about the Starkey family seeing that Richard Cooper was investing an immense amount of time getting the business up and running with the head of the family, Charles Starkey. The first time she heard that name she immediately thought how important a name like that sounded—kind of how her dad’s presence made her sit up straight whenever he entered the room.
And when Isobel saw his face as he opened the front door to his home, his appearance somehow matched his name. Then he spoke and the commanding tone of his voice completed the preconceptions she’d formed in her head of the man. Charles greeted her father first with a handshake then stiffly turned to her mother Laura with a slight smile but still offered her just a handshake before finally focusing his attention on Isobel.
Her breathing slowed like it normally did when any adult she wasn’t familiar with made eye contact with her. Her gaze was dodgy, giving away how awkward she felt inside, not being able to hold decent contact with the older man. She’d assumed he would also just want to shake her hands that were pooling with sweat, which only filled her with more dread, but he surprised her when he squatted down so he was eye level with her.
“You must be the princess Richard is always telling me about.” He gave her a soft smile that contradicted everything she’d observed of him leading up to this very moment, “Isobel, right?”
Her face instantly turned red at the nickname her father had obviously shared with his business partner, but the familial smile Charles had given her lessened the embarrassment of the situation. She could only bring herself to nod in response, though he didn’t seem to mind as his smile remained even as he began to stand and gave her a simple nod back. Then the sound of something crashing to the ground in the other room grabbed everyone’s attention, and the smile was gone.
“Drew watch where you’re going!” A woman’s voice echoed against the walls of the large home as the sound of heels and flat footsteps got closer to the foyer. Everyone’s eyes shifted to the direction of the noise while Isobel was internally convincing herself that fourteen was in fact too old to shield herself behind her parents. Something was just telling her whoever was about to enter the room was a force she wasn’t prepared for in the slightest.
Then appeared three people when she was only expecting two—a beautiful woman with blue eyes and blonde hair cascading down her back, a boy that looked to be about nine or ten years old holding her hand who shared her same features, and then an older boy who was no doubt the same age as Isobel who was staring down at his phone as he lagged behind the group. Isobel wasn’t completely sure who the Drew was that was running into things was, but something told her it was the one who hadn’t looked up once from the little screen in his hands.
“Joseph, put the phone away, we have company.” Charles voice stabbed into the silence in the room, and ‘Joseph’ who she thought might have been Drew immediately dropped the device into his pocket before finally looking up for the first time since he’d entered the room. She looked over to the other boy and decided he must’ve been the one who’d made all the ruckus in the other room, although he looked so shy it was hard to believe—but after all she didn’t know these people at all.
Charles stepped away from the Coopers to stand beside his wife and children, giving the woman a smile before looking back towards them, “This is my wife Catherine and my boys Drew and Chandler.”
Her parents swiftly stepped forward to shake hands with Catherine, leaving Isobel standing in place, but she was too confused to feel abandoned. If there was only two of them who was Chandler? She didn’t ask though, the girl was too shy to ever indulge in her own curiosity.
“You are the most beautiful little thing I’ve ever seen.” Catherine said to her pulling her out of her head as she looked up at the taller woman. Isobel’s cheeks instantly warmed and her eyes dropped down to the floor not knowing what to say back. She was used to hearing this, people always commenting on her looks, especially her parents, but she hated being the center of attention.
“Isn’t she?” Her mother agreed with a smile in her voice, walking towards her and placing a hand on her to guide her towards the group, “She doesn’t like to hear it though, says it’s too embarrassing.”
Isobel looked up at Catherine and could see her visibly swoon, “That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
The grownups started conversing amongst themselves, sending the kids to awkwardly sit around in the living room to Isobel’s dismay. She’d never been so interested in the watch she’d gotten for her fourteenth birthday last year as she sat quietly across from the two boys.
Drew was ready for this meet and greet to be over with before it even began. He was missing out on practicing at the batting cage with his friends, just to meet the family of his father’s new colleague. He figured he’d just scroll on his phone that is until he was reprimanded by his father, and quickly put the phone away. It was one thing to annoy his father around family, but another to do in front of guests. With his phone not being able to occupy his time he figured he’d actually try to seem interested in this whole ordeal. He looked up and his eyes found the muscular man known as Richard who insisted he be called just Cooper by the kids, then his wife Laura who looked like she’d won a plethora of pageants in her lifetime, and finally his gaze dropped to the girl and remained glued there for the rest of his time in the foyer.
Their family was small, but even if there were another body standing beside Isobel, he doesn’t think he would’ve cared to even spare them a glance—kind of like when his mother was trying to talk with him while he was occupied with his video games. He had one track mind in that kind of way.
Drew wasn’t that annoyed when his parents sent him, his brother, and the girl that looked to be in his grade to the living area. He was curious and had forgotten whatever activity he once thought was more important earlier today. They sat there for about a minute, he and Chandler facing her on the other couch while she sat alone looking down at her fingers, so Drew watched them too. They were just as pretty and interesting as her the boy thought to himself.
“What’s your name again?” His little brother Chandler spoke before he thought to which kind of irked him, but was mostly eager to hear her voice.
She looked kind of startled at the question like she hadn’t expected them to talk to her, “It’s Isobel.”
Then it went it went quiet again, she didn’t even try to continue the conversation. Drew figured she was nervous, but didn’t understand how a girl who looked like that could ever be nervous. Girls at his high school that looked like they could be models were always obnoxious and thirsting for attention—Isobel, he thought, was different.
He could already tell.
“Well, I’m Chandler if you care.” Chandler offered once again before Drew could utter a word. It was then he realized he was judging her in a way for not speaking much when he was doing the exact same thing. Just as he was about to get into his head about it, she smiled at the youngest Starkey. It was a soft, subtle smile, but a genuine smile nevertheless and it was then he decided he wanted her to do the same for him too.
“I do care, it’s nice to meet you, Chandler.” Her voice was small as she spoke, but the way she said it sort of reminded him of how his mother spoke to his brother when his feelings were hurt, “I, um, actually thought you were Chandler.”
Drew hadn’t been expecting her words to be directed at him as it took him a second to snap out of the daze she currently had the fourteen year old boy in.
He jammed his finger against the center of his chest when he finally choked out a response, “Me? No, I’m Drew.”
He watched closely as her eyebrows furrowed, looking in between the two boys like she was trying to figure something out.
“You know you can ask what you’re thinking, Isobel, we don’t bite.” Drew said, sending his brother into a fit of giggles beside him, probably at the mere thought of biting someone.
He watched as she visibly thought over her words then sort of blurted them out, “Who’s Joseph if you’re Drew and Chandler?”
That within itself had Chandler in a full blown laughing fit, who already thought it was pure comedy whenever his father opted to call Drew by his given name.
“That would also be me, but I go by Drew.”
“Drew.” She whispered as if she was practicing the word, or maybe just trying to remember it.
Whatever it was his brain clung on to the small sound like his life depended on it, like he would be hearing it for the rest of his life and adhering to whatever words followed it just because he wanted to.
Drew wasn’t sure what he was feeling, it wasn’t a crush because he’d had plenty of those and it felt nothing of the sort. He did know that he wanted to be her friend, and that he didn’t mind that she and her family would probably be sticking around for a while. Maybe it was just that exactly.
summary: rafe overhears someone being rude to you at your job. it doesn’t end well for either of you, but rafe tries to make up for it.
warnings: arguing, violence (a punch is thrown), protective!rafe, sugar daddy!rafe (?!??), fluff, reader can speak spanish (but race or anything isn't described), not proof read
these are based on my personal experiences (love working retail), just minus the punching
the ring of the bell made your ears perk up as you folded clothes.
you began working at amor, a popular clothing shop for kooks of all ages about a year ago. why they hired you, a pogue, was beyond you, but nonetheless you appreciated it.
especially since your manager, kat, loved you, as she came from rags and rising to riches.
you loved your job, being able to wear casual dresses and clothes, as half the store was beachy clothes and the other half was fancier.
“is that y/n l/n?”
you turned your head to see rafe cameron, kook prince. you hadn’t seen him in awhile, his hair now buzzed as he walked with the same prideful look.
you grinned, putting the shirt you were folding onto the table before hugging the tall man.
you and rafe had a thing, as one day he came into the shop you two immediately hit it off.
“did you find everything okay?” you asked, trying not to stare at the attractive man in front of you.
you scanned the shorts and polo shirts he was buying, noticing him smiling down at you. his hair was pushed back with a baseball cap on his head.
“i did now,” he said slyly.
“oh yeah?” you grinned, taking the security tags off the clothes. a heat rose to your cheeks as you bagged his items.
“didn’t realize they had pretty girls working here, y/n.” the man read your name tag.
“i wouldn't say that..." you trailed off, not knowing the man's name.
"rafe, rafe cameron." a cameron, huh? it had shocked you, really. the camerons were all over the news and basically ran figure eight.
"your total is going to be $259.73." you couldn't help but peek as he pulled out his wallet, his gold card practically dissing you as he put it in the pinpad.
you handed him his receipt, feeling electricity as you two accidentally brushed hands. he smiled down at you, grabbing his bag.
"i'll see you around, y/n."
"have a good day, rafe."
you watched as he exited the building, but quickly turned around after he paused. you furrowed your brows as he walked back up to the register.
"can i take you out?"
the rest of the story turned around, but you still kept in touch with rafe until he was on the ship with his father. he never texted or called you back after that.
"thanks for answering me." you said sarcastically, trying to hide your beaming smile. even though you hadn't heard from him, you still missed talking and being around him.
"sorry, mama. things got tough."
rafe's eyes wandered your body. from the way your hair was styled, your shorts that displayed your pretty legs, cropped tank top that showed some cleavage with a hawaiian shirt over it to make it seem a bit more modest, although failing to do so.
"i bet, being a cameron isn't so easy, huh?" you teased, continuing to fold the shirts you had previously ditched.
rafe didn't get to respond before kat came over, cutting off your conversation. "y/n, hay un cliente (there is a customer)."
kat was a very strong person. her family had come from mexico in search of a new life, and kat had quickly picked up the pace as she was able to open up amor. the store allowed her family to move from the cut to figure eight. she was around 5'6, brown hair that looked black in some lighting, with a mole next to her top lip that just added to herself, in a weird way.
"lo veo (i see him)." working at amor, you quickly picked up on spanish (unless you already speak it). kat eyed rafe, before nodding at him and heading back to the fitting room.
"did you find everything okay?" you questioned the man. he was around 40, dressed in a collared shirt with jeans to match. he had a rolex on his wrist, displaying his wealth.
rafe had moved to look at some of the mannequins, staying close by.
the man didn't respond, scrolling on his phone. you pursed your lips together, biting back your tongue as you continued to scan his items. his body language seemed defensive as he stood away from you.
"i like your-"
unfortunately, working customer service you had some rude customers from time to time, especially being a pogue in kook territory.
"just zip it pogue and bag my clothes. and don't try anything suspicious, either."
you were taken aback by his comment.
"don't talk to her like that." rafe had appeared next to the register, his nostrils flaring as his normal blue eyes turned dark. his pupils were blown wide as he stared at the man like he was going to kill him.
"and who are you?" the man scoffed.
"she's just doing her job, dickhead."
"if she was just doing her job, she wouldn't be tryna talk to me. now, who are you? do you even work here?" the man eyed rafe angrily, trying to appear more dominate but ultimately failed. rafe was taller and seemed to be much stronger.
"rafe-" you tried.
"rafe cameron, is that right?" the man suddenly smirked, sizing rafe up.
"i should've known. all camerons are dicks, especially your father."
you saw how rafe clenched his fist, the veins in his hand looking like they were on the verge of exploding.
"but i never expected a cameron to be protecting a pogue, or less a whore."
you gasped as rafe's knuckles made contact with the man's cheek, a cracking sound that could be heard around the store.
"rafe!" you shouted as he shook his hand, trying to not beat the man to unconsciousness.
rafe saw red as he grabbed the man by his collar, dragging him out of the store. "never fucking come back, got that?"
the man, now with a bruised cheek that appeared to have a broken bone, quickly walked off. rafe spit on the floor, walking back into the store.
kat had come running over, the noise causing her to be alerted.
"y/n, what the hell was that?" she asked, her voice thick with an accent as she was fuming.
"he was being-"
"we have a no violence policy. i told you to stay away from that cabrón (asshole)." kat swore.
"kat-" the woman wasn't letting you finish.
"you know i love you, kid. but that was unacceptable."
your lip trembled as your heart sank. you knew what her next words were going to be.
"you're fired, and i want rafe out of the store permanently."
rafe watched the scene, opening his mouth to speak but quickly stopped himself. a tear ran down your cheek as you wiped it away.
"who needs this stupid job away," you mumbled. you grabbed rafe's bicep, guiding him out of the store.
once outside, you let go of him and slightly pushed him backwards. rafe stared at you in shock, his knuckles throbbing in pain.
"what was that for?"
"you got me fired, asshole!"
"you just let dickheads speak to you like that?" rafe asked, an appalled tone in his voice as his mouth slightly hung open.
"yes! i need money, i don't care what gross rich men say."
the north carolina heat radiated off of you two, seagulls squawking as they flew above.
"y/n-" he went to grab your hands but you pulled away.
"i don't have daddy's money to support me, rafe. you just cost me my entire income and home."
your words were harsh as you stared directly into his eyes, a flame ignited in you that he lit.
"listen, okay. i can take care of you."
rafe was trying to remain calm, not wanting to scare you away from him if he raised his voice too much.
"oh, yeah? how?"
"c'mon." rafe took you down to where barry was sitting in rafe's car. the man got out as he saw you and rafe approach, the tension thick.
"long time, y/n." barry nodded his head at you, which you pursed your lips in response and watched as rafe popped the trunk.
inside were cases as rafe opened one, shiny gold beaming off the sun to peek at you. your stomach dropped, looking between rafe and barry who had huge smirks on their faces.
"how did you-"
rafe carefully handed you a piece of gold, watching as you inspected it.
"each one is worth at least 20 grand. we're set for life with these, baby."
you let out a surprised laugh, any feel of anger going away from the sight of all the cases filled with your new riches.
"no bullshit, right?"
"100 percent real, honey. rafe melted it down himself."
rafe gave barry a death glare from the nickname he called you.
"how- where- you know what, never mind. i don't care. you guys are fucking loaded."
"we're loaded, y/n." rafe put his arm around you, bringing you into a side hug as you smelt his dior sauvage cologne.
you grinned, feeling rafe press a kiss to your temple as you hugged him tightly. you ran your hand up and down his muscular back as his hand went down to your lower back.
"so.... are you my sugar daddies?" you joked. barry laughed as rafe rolled his eyes.
jj maybank x fem!routledge OC -- FIX-IT FIC // read on Ao3
In which a boy with zero self preservation falls in love with a girl clawing at life.
chapter summary. SEASON 3! at their new home of pougelandia, things get weird and fast.
notes. introducing JJ's POV! the ultimate lover-boy and number one self-destructionist!
word count. 4.1k || masterlist
previous chapter < > next chapter
SEASON 3
It only took JJ two days to realize that the little island they had ended up on was nothing short of paradise. He had known that no matter what, wherever he was with his friends was exactly where he wanted to be. To be freed of Kook bullshit, his dad, and the rest of the world, was a weight off of JJ’s shoulders. He felt like he could conquer anything.
They adjusted surprisingly well, putting their heads and skills together to make the best of Poguelandia. He couldn’t have dreamed of a better way out of their shitty luck. He was ready to stay there forever. It wasn’t like there was anything waiting for him back in Kildare. No, everything wanted and needed was right there.
“How’s your head?” asked Pope, as he took a seat beside JJ under the shade of a palm tree.
“I’ve never had any complaints,” he joked, earning a light shove and smirk from Pope. The humor only lingered in the air for a moment before Pope’s expression turned more serious. JJ rolled his eyes and said, “I’m fine, dude. It was a little knock upside the head.”
Pope scoffed. “It totally was not, JJ. You were unconscious and bleeding. Your ass had to be saved, mind you. So cut the ‘I’m fine’ shit.”
JJ touched the side of his head where he’d been hit. From what he could feel, it was a pretty gnarly gnash. But between keeping it wrapped in a bandana and Pope’s knowledge of leaves that could be used as medicine, it was healing just fine. He was letting it breathe, but the sea breeze did sting slightly when it hit it just right.
He didn’t remember much of how it happened. One second, some asshole with a machete was charging at Lottie, and the next thing he knew, he was in a lifeboat with his friends.
“Do you want a thank you for saving my sorry ass, is that it?” he asked Pope.
“No. I’m not the one who jumped off the boat for you, or who gave you CPR, dumbass.”
JJ furrowed his brows and stopped fiddling with a stick he was using to draw in the sand for some afternoon entertainment. “What’re you talkin’ about?”
In hindsight, maybe he should have racked his brain more for what happened or asked. How did he manage to get in the lifeboat? But thinking made his head hurt, and not in the usual way he complained about it hurting just to get out of doing algebra homework. Pope diagnosed him with a minor concussion. JJ thought he was being overdramatic, but after puking a couple of times and feeling a dull pain take over his brain, he had no choice but to believe Pope.
“You were knocked out cold and fell from the ship. Luckily, Lottie was with you, or else you would have drowned. The only reason you didn’t is because she jumped in after you. When we found you guys in the water and got you into the lifeboat, she literally resuscitated you, dude,” he said before pausing. A softer, less Pope-y expression crossed his face. “We thought you were a goner for a minute.”
JJ didn’t know much about concussions, but his head felt really weird as it processed that information. Lottie jumped off the ship after him? Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised; she was exactly the kind of person who’d jump into the middle of the ocean for someone. JJ just didn’t expect that person to be him.
He let his gaze wander over to where she sat on a piece of driftwood wood braiding Kie’s hair. A small smile tugged on his lips, almost automatically. His view, however, was broken by Pope rudely waving his hand in front of JJ’s face.
“I mean this with love,” started Pope. “But you’re a little pathetic.”
An offended scoff fell from JJ’s lips as he shoved Pope over, causing him to land on his side in the sand. He let out a string of curses and looked like he was ready to tackle JJ, but stopped. “As soon as we’re pretty sure you don’t have a concussion anymore, I’m gonna drown you in the ocean.”
“Ohhh, big talk, Pope. I’d like to see you try.”
Pope stood up, kicking some sand at JJ in the process, earning a disgruntled noise from the blond as he spit out sand from his mouth and tried to wipe it from his face. It clung to his damp skin from sweat and the high humidity.
“You boys gonna play fight all afternoon, or do some work, eh?” Cleo said as she approached them with her bag hanging at her side.
Cleo was a cool addition to the Pogues. JJ didn’t know how she felt about them, or if she totally trusted them yet, but she was a natural Pogue.
Pope cleared his throat and offered to help her venture deeper into the island to see if they could find anything besides coconuts to eat. They were still figuring out spearfishing, which was a little more difficult than originally believed.
They left JJ alone in the shade with his thoughts, which was not his favorite thing.
However, when he didn’t want to deal with his thoughts, he let his mind become occupied by the brunette across the beach. That wasn’t anything new. JJ had known Lottie for felt like all of his life, or just the parts that seemed to matter. She was easy to think about and often made his brain a little quieter.
Except for that particular moment, his brain was really loud about Lottie.
She didn’t let him drown. And yeah, she was his friend. She would have jumped off the ship for any one of them. Still, it was stupid and dangerous, and she could have gotten hurt, too. She did it anyway, for him, and that made it really hard for JJ to keep pushing down the same feelings he’s carried for Lottie since he first laid eyes on the front tooth missing, pig-tail braids, overalls-wearing Lottie Routledge.
From the moment John B. had pointed her out on the playground, it had been the three of them against the world. But somewhere along the way, the way he felt about John B. and Lottie diverged. John B. was his best friend, someone whom he went on fishing trips and complained about their middle school baseball coach with. He looked at John B. like a brother, one he wished he had, and someone he’d poke fun at until the day he died, but who he’d also run headfirst into anything with without any question.
Lottie, however, was just different. It was different with her than it was with anyone else. But it wasn’t until late middle school that JJ realized that was because he had a stupid crush on her. When John B. started talking about some blonde girl he saw at an ice cream shop and how his hands felt clammy when she smiled at him, JJ put the pieces together quietly inside his head as he listened. John B. described the feeling as getting ready to catch a big wave, that heart-hammering excitement. When Lottie laughed at his jokes or hugged him before he walked back home, JJ felt the same way.
Obviously, he never said that John B. It was weird to have a crush on your best friend’s sister, even if she was your best friend too. JJ shoved it down and tried to ignore it, pretending like he didn’t sometimes catch himself staring a little too long at Lottie or wish he wasn’t just crashing in her bedroom because she felt sorry for him after a fight with his dad.
He liked to think he did a good job of pretending that his crush definitely wasn’t still there. Yet, ever since they started hunting for Big John’s gold, it was a lot harder. Now he was stuck on a deserted island with her, after she saved his ass from dying at sea. He was in trouble; he could feel it. But, for the first time since he discovered his crush in middle school, JJ wasn’t desperate to push away that feeling stirring in his chest. He really didn’t want to bury it, not at that moment.
↕
Lottie hung the Pogues’ washed shirts on a low-hanging tree branch for the sun to work its magic before it set. They washed up on the island, appropriately named Poguelandia, with only the clothing on their backs, which meant their clothes were going to get funky fast. Lottie wasn’t sure how long it’d take for them to get annoyed with that, but she figured they had bigger issues at hand.
Three days in, and they were faring better than she anticipated. Growing up in the Cut made them handy and crafty. Cleo was as well, vaguely mentioning she had fended for herself for a while. And, despite growing up a Kook, Sarah had her share of talents that helped them. She was able to impressively good at weaving leaves and grass together for their makeshift shelter.
Lottie thought she’d start to freak out by that point, being stranded with no escape plan and with no one knowing where they were. But she was sort of enjoying it, after the initial shock wore off. No one was after them, no cops breathing down their neck or Kooks, and no gold. It was just them, together, living the true Pogue experience.
The island was almost like paradise. Lottie could see herself getting used to it.
“Hey.”
She turned around to see JJ with his hands in his pockets and cheeks dusted red from the almost constant sunshine.
“Hey,” she greeted with a smile. “How’re you feeling?”
Since he’d been knocked out, Lottie had been worried. He should have been seen by a doctor. The cut on the side of his head was healing and hadn’t been deep enough to warrant the need for stitches, luckily, but Pope did say he probably had a minor concussion.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” he said with a huff.
“Because we care, Jay.”
He pulled his hands from his pockets and let them fall to his sides. Then he crossed them over his chest like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He looked uncomfortable.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Since they ended up on the island, despite his head wound, JJ was adapting the best. It was his ideal situation. Yet, in front of Lottie at that moment, he seemed knocked off balance.
He groaned and ran his hands down the length of his face. “No,” he muttered after a beat. “I mean…uh..."
Maybe his concussion was a little worse than Pope diagnosed and JJ let on. Lottie took a step closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, studying the scrunched-up look on his face. “What’s the matter?”
Then, he laughed, but it sounded a little pained before he suddenly blurted out, “You!” Her confusion only grew, brows furrowing as he continued. “I mean…me? Us."
JJ took a step back, forcing Lottie to drop her hand from his shoulder. She felt like the one who’d been hit on the head, as nothing he was saying made sense. She watched as he rubbed his knuckles against his eyes and sighed.
“Us?” Lottie repeated. “What about us?” She searched her brain for something she had done since they arrived that could have upset him, but there was nothing she could think of. Everyone seemed good, all things considered.
It looked like he was going to say something, offer her an explanation. He opened his mouth but closed it again. The space he had put between them disappeared as he grabbed her upper arms, not harshly but almost feverishly. He was close, really close. Lottie wanted to ask him what in the world was going on with him, but she didn’t get the chance to.
The last thing she ever expected JJ, of all people, to do, right in the middle of a deserted island, was kiss her. But that was exactly what he did.
He kissed her quickly, crashing into Lottie like the waves that met the shore. Her eyes widened, and she didn’t even have time to close them or memorize the way his mouth felt hers before he was backing away.
He looked just as surprised as she did.
“Oh no,” JJ mumbled under his breath.
“Oh…” Lottie couldn’t get any other words out as her mind was spinning out of her grasp.
JJ blinked and rushed out, “I-I gotta go.”
She laughed, trying to understand what the hell had just happened. “W-What? Go? Go where?”
He was already half-sprinting down the sand and toward the water before she could get the full sentence out. She was talking to the air.
Reaching up, Lottie brushed her fingers against her lips as she whispered to herself, “What the fuck?”
↕
There was a long list of stupid things JJ had done in his life. There was a new contender at the top of that list, however. That was kissing Lottie. Close second was his decision to then avoid her for a solid week, which was made a hell of a lot harder due to them being stranded together.
He did get away with it by focusing on spearfishing with Kie during the day and piddling around anywhere she wasn’t for the rest of the time. She had tried to talk to him, but he made up excuse after excuse until she was pissed off enough to stop trying. JJ thought that was probably for the best.
So, he let his crush get the best of his judgment. In the back of his mind, he knew it was a bad idea to kiss her. He fully realized that the second he made his move. Things would get messy, he was sure of it. Not only with Lottie, but with the rest of the Pogues as well. And there was still the whole ‘no Pogue on Pogue macking’ rule.
JJ also knew that, if something was going to get screwed up, it’d be his fault. Eventually, he’d do something wrong, he knew it. Not only would that end his friendship with Lottie, but then the Pogues would have to choose sides, and he’d be on the chopping block for sure. He wasn’t mad about that fact; he was simply aware of it.
That all struck him in the midst of kissing the girl he had liked since the third grade, instead of allowing himself to enjoy a moment he’d been thinking about for an embarrassingly long time.
His hope was that she’d stay just pissed off enough for the kiss to blow over, and it would be like nothing happened. They’d fall back to how things were, and JJ would stay with his stupid crush that he never said aloud.
The only issue was, being in close corridors with your best friends made everyone extra observant. That did not bode well for JJ.
“You’re being weird,” Sarah said, joining him at the shoreline. He was trying to fix his spear before dinner, hoping he’d actually catch something for it.
JJ met her gaze as he said, “Is it because I’m not shot-gunning beers in the middle of the afternoon? It’s new for me too, trust.”
“No,” she said. “Ever since I’ve gotten to know you, I don’t think I’ve seen you and Lot not together. Now we’re here, literally living your Pogue Life dream, and you’re wherever she’s not. It’s weird.”
He didn’t know when everyone decided to become detectives and become invested in who he did or didn’t hang out with.
“Are you keeping tabs on me now?” He said, shooting her a quick look.
She shook her head. “I think everyone’s noticed. John B. pointed it out first. He said you two weren’t acting like yourselves and he was gonna figure out why.”
JJ was close with all of the Pogues, but no one could see through his bullshit better than John B., except Lottie. If he noticed, then JJ was screwed. What was he supposed to say? ‘Sorry I kissed your sister, then freaked out and decided to avoid her entirely. Whoops!’ He’d kill him, probably.
“Yeah, well, when he figures it out, let me know.” He wanted Sarah to just drop it, but the blonde was annoyingly persistent. She snatched the spear from his hand, which earned a groan of protest from JJ.
“Did you two get into a fight or something?”
JJ was half tempted to drown himself to avoid the conversation, but Sarah would probably fish him out with the spear.
“No,” he answered. “I just did something stupid, okay? Big surprise, I know. That’s not normally like me.”
He expected her to get annoyed and walk away; he was good at making people do that. But she didn’t. Instead, her expression grew softer. “This is Lottie we’re talking about, JJ. I think she’ll forgive just about any stupid thing you do.”
The kiss? Maybe. Avoiding her? Probably not.
He shrugged and held out his hand, gesturing for his spear back. She handed it over and left him to rejoin John B. a bit further down the beach.
It was only a matter of time before John B. asked him what was up, and JJ would almost certainly cave or do a shit job at lying to him. He’d have to come clean and hope John B. didn’t try to drown him and feed him to the sharks.
Unless he could convince Lottie to just call the whole thing a wash. If he could clean the slate with her, act like the kiss was nothing more than a side-effect of his concussion or life-or-death adrenaline, then maybe he could avoid ever bringing it up to anyone again. Things would go back to normal, and no one would ever know. Easy.
↕
It took one and a half weeks for JJ to finally stop avoiding Lottie one-on-one. She thought she was going to lose it. First, he kissed her out of the blue, and then he did everything in his power to ignore her.
She wanted to be angry, and she was for a little while, but she was more confused than anything. Why did he kiss her in the first place if he was just going to run away and ignore her? What did that even mean?
At night, when she lay down in the sand and looked up to the stars, she couldn’t help but think of his lips on hers. Back when she was in middle school and learned about the world of boys and dating, she would sometimes wonder what it’d be like to kiss JJ. It was an embarrassing thought, the more her mind dwelt on the idea. That was her best friend, not her boyfriend. But she couldn’t help it sometimes.
However, it didn’t happen how she’d imagined it. Her made-up scenario never ended with him freaking out and pretending like she didn’t exist. She started to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing, which was why she didn’t tell anyone about it. Kie would kill her, but Lottie wanted to understand herself what the hell it was all about before she said anything to Kie or anyone else.
The shift between Lottie and JJ didn’t go unnoticed. She shrugged it off by saying they all were a little weird as they tried to adjust to the island life. The truth, however, was that she had no fucking clue what was going on or how she was supposed to feel.
It was late when JJ finally stopped avoiding her. The others had called it a night and all fallen asleep, but Lottie couldn’t. She stayed at the fire, poking it with a stick as a lame form of entertainment. She thought JJ had fallen asleep too, until he sat down beside her, but not too close.
Usually, he didn’t have a concept of personal space when it came to her. He’d sit down with a toothy grin and their legs touching. It was such a little thing, but one she didn’t know she liked so much until he gave her the cold shoulder.
“Hey,” he greeted lightly.
She glanced up at him for only a moment before returning her gaze to the fire. “Hi.”
“Can we talk?”
Lottie couldn’t help but scoff. “Oh, now you wanna talk?”
He was quiet for a beat before he said, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You shouldn’t have kissed me or ignored me?”
“Both,” he answered, followed by a heavy sigh.
Lottie pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees, trying not to let the deflating feeling show too much on her face.
He shouldn’t have kissed her; that’s what he thought. Maybe he shouldn’t have. They did have a rule against that very thing for that very reason.
Yet, Lottie couldn’t help but feel a sting at his words, and he didn’t stop there.
“Look, it was a mistake. I mean, I did get hit pretty hard in the head, back there on the ship. I think it knocked everything all out of whack,” he said, his voice with a hint of humor. When Lottie didn’t so much as crack a smile, he cleared his throat and continued. “I was just in a weird space, you know? I knew I shouldn’t have done it the second I did. I-I freaked out and-”
Lottie cut him off by saying his name and shaking her head. “It’s…it’s fine.” Not really, but Lottie felt like she’d start crying if he kept talking, and that was the last thing she wanted him to see after all of that.
“It’s fine,” he repeated. “Are you sure?”
“If it was a mistake, then it didn’t mean anything to you, right?”
JJ hesitated before he nodded.
It was suddenly all so stupid, she thought. If JJ had really wanted to kiss her, he could have done so a hundred times over before they washed up on Poguelandia. If it mattered to him, he wouldn’t have acted like that. He had never even tried before, not until he was concussed and stranded. He probably would have kissed anyone if they’d been in the same spot she’d been. It was just a mistake of a lot of feelings at once.
“Okay. Then, we’re good,” she said simply, wanting the conversation to be put to bed.
JJ visibly relaxed a little. “Cool,” he breathed out. “Could we, like, just forget this whole thing happened?”
“Whatever you want, Jay.”
And they did, or at least pretended to, for an entire month. On the deserted island, Lottie and JJ found their old groove to squeeze back into. Maybe it was just Lottie who pretended because JJ asked as if he really had forgotten the whole thing. He created the Poguelandia flag, caught fish, and looked rather determined to stay right there forever.
The island was a form of paradise, but the longer they stayed, a dull ache started in her chest that she tried to shoo away, but the itch to leave only worsened. There were knots in her hair that her fingers couldn’t get out, sand was practically permanently stuck to her skin, and she was already starting to grow tired of eating nothing but berries, coconuts, and fish.
She didn’t say it aloud, though, as it seemed everyone else was having a pretty good time. She tried to chase away that feeling of wanting things to go back to normal, as if that was even an option anymore.
summary: you're relaxed and calm in the obx summer heat, and rafe simply cannot have that.
notes: filthy filthy filthy! sorry not sorry bout it. also minor obx 3 spoilers; ie his parents are on that damn island and its just him in their big ole house. semi public sex kink and def a choking kink beware or be scared! i truly cannot write anything without that damn hand around reader's throat.. that's my b. enjoy! also thank you so much for all the love on my fics and the followers... so excited for all i will write in the future and so incredibly full of love from you guys <3
tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader
word count: 2542
The whole day had been perfect.
You woke up around 9:30, brushed your teeth, and went downstairs to have some oatmeal. By 10:30 you were in a bikini and setting out a towel on the back deck.
The sun was fairly hot, but the early warnings of a storm gave a cooler breeze. Your towel was in the perfect spot between the shade where you could get full sun coverage without moving too much.
Gentle music was playing from your speaker, something that sounded like what your mom listened to in highschool, and a couple vodka seltzers laid unopened in a small cooler for you to enjoy later. You were also halfway through a mystery book, and between the pages of every chapter you let the time drift away from you.
The most relaxing part of the start of your day? Rafe had left the house around 9 and had yet to return by the time you cracked open your seltzer at 1 o’clock. No ranting, no typical Rafe-isms— just sunshine and Paula Abdul. You wished he was able to do this with you.
It was so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep a little more than halfway through your drink, head resting on your folded arms.
“Y/N.” Something rigid and distinctly shoe-like nudges your arm. “Baby.”
You just groan and turn over onto your back, arms following to protect your eyes from the sunlight.
“Hi,” you croak, squinting, and peer up at him. He looks like the Statue of Liberty in this light— if the statue of liberty wore light wash jeans and slutty little beer brand t-shirts. (So on brand for him.)
“How long have you been out here?” He asks, bending to pick up what’s left of your seltzer for one final swig.
“Since like 10:45.” Your face breaks in a yawn and your arms fall to the deck as your eyes get used to the light. A smile creeps onto your face. “What’ve you been doing?” You sit up on your hands, scanning his body. He looks kinda sweaty.
“Um,” he starts, scratching at his forehead with a sigh. “Buncha shit. Went into a couple places to close Ward’s accounts with them—oh, I saw your mom at Cold Stone by the way.”
“Why were you at Cold Stone?” You grin, crossing your legs and pushing at his calf with your foot. He makes an innocent face, hands on his hips. He looks to the trees, playfully exasperated.
“Sometimes I need a milkshake, Y/N. What kind of question is that?” You snort. “Anyway— I think we should go out for dinner. It’s getting to be—shit, it’s almost 4.”
You’re silent, save for some puny, whiny noise you make at the mention of going out. You struggle to get up, a little wobbly on your feet, but Rafe catches you and hauls you up with a hand on your waist.
“What?” He brushes the wispy hairs out of your face. “You don’t want to go out?” He searches your face, blue eyes squinting down at you, and you just pout. In the most mature way a 20-something can when faced with leaving her very rich boyfriend’s very nice house who has asked her to stay with him graciously for the very near future while his parents are retired on some island in the middle of the ocean.
You curl a finger around the collar of his t-shirt, playing with it while you formulate an answer.
“Where would we go?” Is what you settle on, ever the people pleaser.
“I don’t know…” Rafe thinks, gaze drifting from you as he chews at his lip. You wind your arms around his shoulders, hands splayed across his wingspan. You pet the skin of his neck with your thumb, warm all over. You’re content just looking at him forever.
“What if I’m hungry now?” You ask, ever so innocently, and Rafe thinks you’re serious until he catches the look on your face.
“That right?” He grins, hand sliding down your back. He grabs at your ass and you squeak. “How hungry? Wait until after dinner?” He’s just teasing you honestly; it’s almost a hobby to see how desperate you get for him.
“Rafe.” You pinch his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”
He just hums noncommittally, and dips to press a kiss to your neck. You shift up onto your tiptoes, wanting to be closer, and he hikes one of your legs up onto his hip. You can’t help the noise you make.
“Rafe,” you breathe, grabbing at him. “We have to go inside.” He bows forward, dangling you towards the wood of the deck, and you just hold tighter onto his shoulders.
“Why?” He murmurs, lost in your taste, and presses a kiss to your mouth that makes you shiver. “I don’t see why we have to.” He falls into a kneel, bringing you with him, and you suck in a surprised gasp. “Nobody’s around.”
“Somebody could be, baby,” you say, chancing a look around, and huff out a sigh when he lays you onto your back. This man.
“I don’t care,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with not a care in the world before following you down.
This bikini might be his favorite. He likes anything that will leave as little to the imagination as possible, but this one is his favorite shade of blue. Almost matches his eyes.
Your warm skin feels like silk on him, and when you wriggle when he presses a hand to your inner thigh, his dick jumps.
“Relax, Y/N,” he breathes. You roll your eyes.
“How can I, Rafe? You’re so—aggravating.” You huff. He’s still wearing his shirt, too. You tug at the sleeves of it.
“Oh, yeah?” He cocks his head, lips pursed. You just nod, pulling again at the fabric of his shirt. “Why’re you so wet, then?” He fumbles with the buckle of his jeans and your eyes lock on it.
“I’m not.” You look back up at him, self-assured to a fault, and try to will the dampness between your legs away. He just stares down at you, unimpressed. “I-I’m not.” Your thighs close.
“That right?” He murmurs, and wrestles your legs open again with an arm. His fingertips brush the crotch of your bottoms and you jolt, breathing hard out your nose. He lifts your hips and pulls them clean off, tossing them to the side.
He’s silent then, gaze locked between your legs, and he carefully guides your legs back until you can grab them by the back of your thighs and keep them out of his way.
“Not wet, my ass,” he murmurs to himself. His thumb rubs at your clit, and your sigh of pleasure ends in an impatient whine. He spits. “This pussy—,” he starts, but can’t finish.
He just bows and gets his mouth on you like he’s been thinking about since he left the house. Your head slams back against the deck almost immediately.
His large palm flattens to the back of your thigh and pushes your leg even further. The muscle strains but you can handle it.
“Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as his tongue pushes hard through your folds. You’re really fucking wet. You wonder briefly if it’s because of how hot it was today, then cast that out of your mind completely when you hear Rafe groan. Your body vibrates with it.
His hands suddenly drag you by your hips, closer to his face, and he hums again.
“Taste so fucking good,” he muses, spitting at you, and glances up at your face. You can barely keep your mouth closed like this. “Brat, lying to me.”
You whine, every second of him talking taking his mouth away from where it so desperately needs to be absolute torture, but settle when his thumb begins tracing circles into your clit.
“Fuck me,” you breathe, back arching and leg muscles straining, and Rafe just laughs into your cunt.
“I will,” he murmurs, and you would roll your eyes if you could— but he pushes two fingers into you. His thumb spurs back into motion as you sing, throat already sore. He knows exactly where and when to curl his fingers, and you let him know right there is where they need to be.
“There you go.” He spits a third time, watching it mix with your slick. “Squeezing me so tight, honey,” he assures you, smoothing a hand down your thigh. If you could find words you’d agree.
You manage a “yes, shit,” before you go mute and your eyes roll back into your head. You squeeze around him like a vice, your legs flooding with warmth, and he fingers you through your orgasm. He can’t pull himself away when you get like this— you’re so soft and warm and perfect that he genuinely wonders if he could ever fuck someone else again. He knows the answer is no.
Your abdominal muscles spasm and jolt as you come down, neck straining to look at where his fingers give you a final stroke and find their way to his mouth.
“Fuck, Rafe,” you half-laugh and half-moan, head falling against the deck. You chest heaves as you catch your breath. “This is embarrassing.”
“What?” He says, voice hushed, and presses a kiss to your mouth. “Being on the deck or how quick I can make you cum?” He grins.
This time you can and do roll your eyes.
“Both,” you sigh, legs falling to their place around his hips. You curl up into a sitting position and pet his arm, coming back to reality. He smells like sunshine. “But you still haven’t fucked me yet.”
Your fingers trail down to his jeans, fingertips ghosting over his zipper. He hums in agreement, eyes following. You play with the button for a second, just wanting to tease, but pop it and unzip the fly.
“Wanna know what I’m thinking about?” You ask, reaching up his shirt to feel his hot skin. “That time on the beach,” you purr, voice hushed and eyes wild.
“Yeah?” He bites his lip and sits back on his ass, taking you with him in his lap. Your knees bend and you sit comfortably on the seat that is only yours. “You thinking about my hand?”
“Mhm.” You lean and kiss at his cheek, trailing down to his jaw. “And something else.” You dig a hand down into his boxers and curl your fingers around his dick.
He’s hot and almost slippery, so hard you’re sure it’s painful. Your wrist slides against the tip and his hand on your ass curls into a fist.
You lean back, wanting to see his face, and watch as your touch washes over his body. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing, and you smile sweetly.
It’s then that you shift into your knees, hand squeezing his dick, and sink down onto him.
His fingers fly up to your strained face and grasp your neck, immediately tight around your throat. Not tight enough to suffocate, but tight enough for your pulse to quicken.
Exactly what you’d imagined.
“You like that?” He pants, breath fanning over your cheek when you turn slightly and grip his shoulder for stability. You just nod and circle your hips.
His thumb on your chin guides your face back to his, wanting to see you fall apart, and you make a whiny noise. He feels where it starts and ends between his fingertips.
You ride between the strain of his hand around your throat and the movement of his body, head tilted back and mouth wide. Your fingers grip his shoulder and bicep as you ride.
It’s a difficult job, balancing the rhythm of your hips with the ache blooming from the muscles in your thighs, but you make it work.
You hear the bashfully whiny groans he’s exhaling into your ear and you make it work.
“You feel so good,” you whisper hoarsely as his hold tightens, chin tilting towards the sky. He grits his teeth and pushes his hips up into yours.
You scramble to grab onto his forearm and hold back your shriek.
The tightness of his fingers around your throat blur the lines of pleasure and pain, making it hard to catch a deep breath and ride him at the same time.
“Fuck, harder,” he stutters, almost whispering, and you nod furiously. Your thighs meet his lap, over and over with a noise that makes you blush even more than you already are, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises or at the very least a red mark.
He releases your throat and anchors himself with your hip and the small of your back, and when you finally gasp for air at the loss of his pressure on your neck he uses all his lower back strength to wedge himself deep into you.
You know you’ll have bruises there.
You push hard against his forearm as your back arches and the tension in your lower abdomen comes to a peak. Your toes curl where they are at his side.
Your vision comes in and out of focus as you cum again, blood white-hot in your veins. The climax is almost numbing. Addicting.
At this point you have no idea the noises you’re making, probably all gibberish and definitely humiliating, but the rushing in your ears is too much.
Rafe shudders and groans loudly into your ear, spending himself inside of you with a grunt, and you follow him as he falls back into the deck. You catch yourself with a palm on the sun scorched wood.
“Jesus Christ,” he pants, heart pounding and chest heaving. Sweat coats his buzzed hair in a shiny sheen, and your whole body is so sticky you feel like you could peel the layer of perspiration off of your body.
His hands still lazily hold your waist and they begin their ascent to your neck. He feels your pulse with the space between his thumb and forefinger, and his face splits into a grin at the feeling.
“I definitely am going to need some food after this.” You push yourself back up into a sitting position and put your hands on your hips as you finally catch your breath.
He looks so beautiful, half in the shade and half in the sun. Laid out beneath you. Still inside. Like some kind of god.
The hot sun is in his eyes, and his body is numb with the tension spent in his muscles. Rafe half wonders if his dick is still fucking there.
He barely feels when you crawl off of him and stumble into standing. He jerks up into a sitting position, that familiar ache in his back present, and grabs for your leg. He winces at the stretch. You should really be paying his chiropractor bill.
“Where are you going?” He accuses, voice scratchy in his throat.
“I need to shower, baby.” You bend to pick up your bikini bottoms. “We’re going to dinner, aren’t we?” You smile and turn back around to go inside, ass bare and a huge red mark in the shape of a large hand curved around the trunk of your throat.
Summary: Request - I begging and dying for JJ Maybank comfort. Like reader is just going through it and JJ being the best “I got you baby” and just holding her forever and the pogues are just “awww they’re so cute” I just craveeee it
A/N - Stoppp this is just so sweet. Again, trying to be a lil more descriptive in the writing so lmk how you like it!!
Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader
Word Count: 1.6k+
As the evening draped over the Outer Banks like a comforting shroud, casting a soft golden glow over the horizon, you found yourself perched on the weathered dock of the chateau, tears staining your cheeks like dewdrops on delicate petals. The weight of the week's hardships weighed down on your shoulders, threatening to engulf you in a sea of despair. Hugging your knees to your chest, you sought solace in the solitude of the fading light, the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the dock providing a soothing backdrop to your turbulent thoughts.
Unbeknownst to you, JJ Maybank, your unwavering anchor, and beacon of light in the darkness, had ended his shift earlier that evening. A nagging intuition, a silent whisper of the heart, pulled him towards you with an urgency that he couldn't ignore. With each step he took, guided by an invisible thread of destiny, his determination to offer you his unwavering support grew stronger, his heart beating in sync with yours.
As JJ made his way towards the dock, the soft crunch of sandy dirt beneath his feet mingled with the gentle rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. The salty tang of the ocean hung heavy in the air, a familiar scent that filled him with a sense of homecoming. With each passing moment, the distance between you and him seemed to shrink, as if drawn together by an invisible force that transcended time and space.
Finally, he spotted your silhouette against the dimming sky, a solitary figure in a world of fading light. His heart clenched with hurt at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks, his resolve strengthening with each step he took towards you. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, his footsteps soft against the worn wooden planks of the dock.
"Y/N?" he called softly, his voice a gentle whisper carried on the evening breeze, infused with warmth and concern.
Startled, you turned towards him, tear-filled eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and relief. In that moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you amidst the quiet beauty of the twilight. Without a word, JJ closed the remaining distance between you, enveloping you in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of his unwavering love and support.
"What's wrong, baby?" he murmured, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos of your emotions, a lifeline in the darkness.
Unable to find the words to articulate the storm raging within you, you simply leaned into him, seeking comfort in the safety of his arms, finding security in the warmth of his embrace. With each beat of your heart, each hitched breath, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders.
JJ held you close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his touch a gentle caress against your skin. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, his words a promise of unwavering support. "But know that I'm here for you, always. I've got you, okay?"
You nodded, a soft sob escaping your lips as you clung to him, finding comfort in his unwavering presence, in the depth of his love.
With infinite tenderness, JJ gently lifted you into his arms, cradling you close as he rose to his feet, as if determined to shield you from the world's troubles with the strength of his embrace.
Without a word, he carried you to the nearby hammock, its gentle sway offering a semblance of peace amidst the storm raging within you. As you settled into the hammock, JJ's heart swelled with love for you, his touch a soothing balm against the ache in your soul.
Brushing away your tears with his thumb, he spoke, his voice a gentle murmur of reassurance and affection. "You're safe here, baby," he whispered, his words a promise of unwavering support. "I'll stay with you until the storm passes, love."
And in that moment, as you lay together beneath the starlit sky, the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and serenity in JJ's embrace. For in his arms, you found not only comfort, but also the strength to weather any storm that life may bring.
You buried your face in his chest, your tears flowing freely now as you allowed yourself to release the pent-up emotions weighing you down.
JJ held you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively, as if shielding you from the world's troubles. With a gentle sway, he rocked you back and forth in the hammock, the rhythm soothing and comforting.
"I love you, more than you will ever know.” He whispered, still holding you close to his chest knowing how badly you needed it now.
His words washed over you like a healing balm, dispelling the lingering shadows of doubt and fear that had taken root in your heart. With each tender caress, each whispered assurance, JJ's love enveloped you, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety and security.
"You're not alone, baby," he continued, his voice a gentle melody in the quiet of the night. "I'm here with you, every step of the way."
A sense of peace settled over you, like a blanket of stars strewn across the night sky. In JJ's embrace, you found solace, a refuge from the storms that raged within.
As he continued to murmur words of comfort and love, his touch a soothing symphony against your skin, the walls around your heart began to crumble. Brick by brick, the barriers you had built to protect yourself fell away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of vulnerability and trust.
In JJ's arms, you felt seen, heard, and cherished. His love was a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding you through even the most treacherous of seas.
JJ's eyes twinkled mischievously as he shifted in the hammock, his arms still wrapped securely around you. With a playful grin, he leaned in closer, his voice filled with anticipation. It was that determined look on your face that meant you knew you were in for something.
"You know what always cheers me up when I'm feeling down?" he began, his tone light and affectionate, much different than the seriousness he had been conveying just moments prior.
Curiosity sparkled in your eyes as you tilted your head, eager to hear what he had to say. "What's that, JJ?"
His grin widened, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Stories. So let me tell you one. Well, did you hear about the cheese factory explosion?" he said, his voice laced with playful excitement.
You couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected turn of conversation. "A cheese factory explosion?" you repeated, amusement coloring your tone, playing along with whatever, he had planned.
JJ nodded enthusiastically. "That's right! It was a de-brie-acle," he quipped, unable to contain his own laughter at the literally cheesy joke.
Your laughter bubbled up in response, the sound filling the air with warmth and light. JJ's eyes sparkled with delight as he watched your smile widen, his heart swelling with affection.
Encouraged by the sound of your laughter, JJ's eyes lit up with delight, and he leaned in closer, eager to keep the joyful momentum going. With a playful grin, he launched into a series of lighthearted anecdotes and jokes, each one more absurd and whimsical than the last.
He regaled you with tales of his childhood escapades, embellished with exaggerated details that left you in stitches. His laughter mingled with yours, the harmonious melody echoing through the stillness of the night.
With each story, JJ's enthusiasm was infectious, filling the air with an undeniable warmth and light. He painted vivid pictures with his words, transporting you to worlds filled with laughter and wonder, far removed from the troubles of the present moment.
As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves caught up in a whirlwind of laughter and camaraderie, the weight of your worries fading into the background. In JJ's company, the darkness seemed less daunting, replaced by a sense of joy and possibility.
Sooner than you wished he had finished his stories, leaving you cozied in his arms under a comfortable silence. As you both lay there in the hammock, time seemed to stand still. The gentle sway of the hammock beneath you mirrored the ebb and flow of your emotions, a soothing rhythm that lulled you into a sense of peace.
The Pogues watched from afar, their eyes filled with warmth as they observed the scene unfolding before them. John B, Sarah, Kiara, and Pope exchanged knowing glances, their smiles mirroring the affectionate bond shared between you and JJ.
In that moment, amidst the tranquil backdrop of the night sky and the gentle rustle of leaves, they saw more than just two individuals finding comfort in each other's arms. They saw a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love and laughter could light the way.
For you and JJ were not just partners; you were each other's guiding light, offering support, comfort, and unwavering devotion in the face of adversity. Your connection was palpable, a testament to the strength of your bond and the depth of your love.
As the Pogues watched on, their hearts swelled with affection for the two of you. They knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and JJ would face them together, hand in hand, drawing strength from each other's presence and guiding one another through the darkest of nights.
And as the evening breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the promise of a new day, the Pogues shared a silent moment of gratitude for the love that bound you and JJ together. For in that simple gesture of love and laughter, they found hope, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way.
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I've had thots about Toppers girlfriend with Rafe and his wandering hands and yall are so turned on you both can't stop touching one another you're practically dry humping in front of everyone (ya know the whole hiding in plain sight)
i did something bad - r.c (18+)
warnings: rafe cameron x kook!reader; cheating; boyfriend!topper (not really lmao poor thing); public sex; dry humping; mentions of alcohol and drugs; possessive!rafe;
You don’t know how the hell this happened.
How you ended up right here, right now, with him. You don’t know where to put your hands, your eyes, or your thoughts. You’re lost, completely speechless. Yet somehow, there's nowhere you’d rather be than sitting here, pressed against Rafe Cameron's thighs.
Yeah, you're dating his best friend. And yeah, you’re in the middle of a roaring party, filled to the brim, at Topper’s house.
Rafe brushes his thumb over your hip, testing the waters. “You okay?”
All you can manage is a weak, “Yeah.”
“Look at me.”
Oh god. Of course, Rafe would catch every little thing you do, probably has been watching you the whole night.
Your heart stutters when your eyes lock with his.
That hand on your hip grows bolder, fingers tracing your skin in slow circles. If you died right now, you’d die happy. Your biggest turn-on is feeling understood, feeling seen.
Rafe does that for you, all the time. Your boyfriend? Not so much.
“'Been trying to get your attention all night,” he murmurs.
You exhale, hoping to sound casual. “Really?”
This thing between you two is something you can't escape from, no matter how hard you try to be good. In moments like this, you can’t run.
It pulls you in. This attraction between you two is everything you’ve ever needed and wanted, and yet you panic all the same. You know it’s safer to run from him than to run to him like you always seem to do, but the truth is, you can’t stop.
Rafe nods, utter confidence in the gesture. Not that you’d expect any less from the kook king himself, he always knew what he thought and felt, and wasn’t afraid to let people know.
Unlike you.
“Why are you surprised, flower?” he murmurs, “You know I only got eyes for you.”
You stare back at him, mouth dry and head empty. You want to call him out on his bullshit, put the truth on a silver platter, and hand it to him, but you’d be a hypocrite.
How can you tell him you hate seeing him with other people when you’ve got a boyfriend yourself? His best friend. You’ve got no moral high ground here. So you just nod. Close your eyes, block out the world, and pretend this is fine.
Pretend you’re anywhere else but here.
“Is that so?”
He's now grasping both your hips, “Don’t look at me like that. Y'know I mean it.”
A thrill shoots through you (even if you know better), his touch is scorching your skin, “Not doing anything.”
Cheating on a relationship is a distraction, a stupid self-delusional addiction. This will end in a breakup or breakdown... or worse.
You haven’t crossed that line, not physically at least. Not yet.
It feels like you're about to.
“Trust me, you’re doing just enough.”
The way he says it, it sounds like it's the easiest thing in the world, to want you this bad, makes you want to get on your knees and finish the job already. The thought of it has you dizzy.
Of course, your blush is a dead giveaway.
“Where’s your date?”
“Don’t know,” one hand moves down, “Don’t care.”
“You should.”
His lips twitch, fingers skirting down, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His eyebrows rise, eyes flickering over the room curiously.
“Where’s your boyfriend, flower?” He all but purrs in your ear.
Your face is most definitely on fire now.
He stares at you, and you simply stare back.
“Outside.”
“What would he think if he walked in here and saw you in my lap?” Rafe’s voice is raspy, “Hmm?”
Every bit of confidence you had is nowhere to be found. He always knows how to play you and it's twisted, but the thought only makes you want him more.
“You think about that?” You ask breathlessly, and the hard outline of his cock through his jeans is confirmation enough.
You should shove him away, feel guilty about how much you want him. But instead, you press yourself against him, his thigh between yours, your brain already melting at the feeling.
“You're really tryin' to make me fuck you right here, aren’t you?”
His voice is lethal, he all but groans, leaning down and sinking his teeth into the side of your neck above your pulse.
“I’m trying to be good, flower.”
“You’re not good, Rafe Cameron.”
His lips on your neck are everything you’ve fantasized about and more.
“Could be,” Those blue eyes fill with mischief, “For you, I would.”
Your stomach drops and you shove him off, ignoring your flushed cheeks. But then he grins, that shit-eating, sarcastic grin of his, and your glare pierces through him, attempting to keep some space between you.
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“You think I can’t be good?”
“Know for a fact, you can’t.”
Your reply is mockingly sweet, and for once he doesn’t smirk, in fact, his grin is half-hearted now.
“Right,” His hand works its way from your cleavage, down to your stomach where he lingers for some time, “Good thing you’re dating a good guy, yeah?”
The urge to touch, to be inside you is overwhelming. He’s never felt so desperate to feel someone. The laugh that escapes you is almost bitter, and he knows it. He knows he’s got you.
And the worst part? You’re letting him.
“Yeah, good thing,” You breathe, body fusing into his. Your heart thumps wildly between your ribs and you know you’re going straight to hell after tonight.
“Do you want me?” he whispers, arm snaking around your waist to bring you even closer. Again.
“I do.”
In one swift movement, he pulls you down to the couch he’s sitting on, supporting your body with one hand under your upper thigh, whilst his free hand cups the back of your head, fingers interlacing with your hair. The way you situate yourself on his thigh is so natural that he does give a you a little condescending laugh.
There are people everywhere.
The party rages on, but it only feels like there's two of you. You stare into each other’s eyes, panting shakily – lips inching closer and closer together. Rafe lingers there, flushed pink lips parted, waiting patiently for your move.
“Rafe?” Your voice is quiet, and yet he still hears you despite the music.
You’re not sure how much longer you can stand so close without devouring him whole.
His eyes flicker to yours, “Yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
Before you know it, his lips crash into yours roughly, bruising them. He’s so hungry for you, your touch. He has wanted this for so, so, so long, so have you.
The hard press of him is pushing right against your center, it feels torturous. As if his stupid muscular thigh wasn’t enough. You ground yourself down on him, breathing a moan against his lips.
“My flower,” He pants into your mouth, tongue swiping against your bottom lip, “Gonna be good for me?”
“So good.”
You rock against him, your teeth grazing his lips. His fingers untangle from your hair, and cup your cheek, pulling you in closer to deepen the kiss. You push yourself further against him, still moving your hips.
He groans against your cheek, thrusting up. A large hand slides down your neck, grips it, earning him a sudden, breathy whine from you.
“Want me that bad?”
Your legs tighten around his waist, “Yes.”
“'Y'sure, flower?”
“Yes.”
“More than him?”
“Don’t tease,” you whine lengthily, frustration so pent up it leaves you breathless, “You know my answer.”
“Do I?” He hums, fingers rubbing tight circles into your clothed clit.
“Rafe.”
“Keep talking.”
You try hard to focus on the budding feeling inside you, to chase it so you can finally know what a proper orgasm feels like.
Can’t remember the last time you had one, delivered by a man.
“I want you,” You mumble, grazing your teeth on his pulsing throat as you suckle on his skin, leaving behind a bruise-like mark, “Always want you more.”
“Fuck—” he gasps, hips giving an involuntary jerk, “I’m never letting you go back to him, you know that right?”
Your grip around his neck tightens, fingernails digging into his tanned skin, “All yours.”
You’re so, so wet and you haven’t discarded a single piece of clothing.
All he wants to do is replace his thigh with his cock but, he can’t.
Not here anyway, so he settles for this, he’d settle for anything you give him right now. Lost to the sensation, his head falls back, his eyes screw shut, breathing coming out in short pants.
“C-Can we–Oh!– Can we leave?”
“Easy,” He hums, eyes still squeezed shut, brows gathering, “Not yet.”
“Please,” you beg quietly, squeezing his waist with your legs as your body tries to shove him closer.
Your pussy swells with pleasure, moans becoming deeper and more strained. He knows you’re close. He’s not far behind and there’s something so primal about making you cum in a room full of people, who’ve yet to take a second look at you two, the alcohol and the drugs in their veins becoming your accomplices.
He feels the tension in your body, how it seizes up, trying to fight the unbearable orgasm pooling in your pelvis. The sound of his husky groans in your ear is about to send you over the edge – stomach muscles relaxing.
He relishes in the way you’re staring into his eyes with your mouth open. It feels so good, how his body completely envelopes yours.
You can’t believe you’re about to cum from dry-humping Rafe Cameron.
“This what y'want?” He mutters.
You nod as best you can with his palm on your throat.
“Couldn’t fuckin’ wait, huh?” His jaw ticks. “That desperate?”
You nod again.
Fuck, you’ll tell him whatever he wants if he’ll just touch you.
Focusing on the budding feeling, your hands grip his veiny forearm. You thank God for his sleeves being shoved up to the elbows, cuffed there, and being able to feel the muscle twitch in his forearm.
It turns you on.
You let go of any thoughts, allowing your body to take over, whining into his shoulder and grinding erratically into his hand.
“Good girl."
His voice is shaky from the buck of his hips, your face in already in his hands before you can shrink away. He's gripping your jaw between desperate fingers and tilting to your chin up.
“So fuckin' good, flower.”
When Rafe begins to bounce his leg up and down and you bite your lip to silence your moans.
“If you ever let him touch you again, I’ll break his fuckin’ arms.”
A desperate moan seems to be the only thing that your brain can come up with. You can feel the fire through his lips; you can feel it radiate off his body.
He leans in to brush his lips against yours—feverish. His tongue swirls through your mouth from desperation starting to lock inside his chest.
Truth is, you've made him feel all kinds of things over the years. He needs to feel you, needs to touch you, constantly, he waited enough.
After the searing memory of Topper’s hand on your waist, lips dangerously close to yours earlier, he needs to be close to you.
"M'gonna come—baby, please let me,” You cry out and dig your nails into his skin, chest heaving rapidly.
"Go ahead," He gulps, ready to take you home, dropping his forehead against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, "'M right here."
Your stomach churns as the thin thread that is holding your composure together dies. The tip of his nose drags over your jaw, a soft kiss pressed there as he nudges your head to fall back onto his shoulder. And then he has you shaking, teeth digging into his skin to stop the loud noises dropping from your lips, while he's sucking your neck, tongue, and teeth stinging and soothing, mumbling praises and filthy promises.
“Oh, my fuckin'—God!”
He doesn't let up, not when your clit begins to throb, or walls pulse.
Not until you're shaking so hard through your orgasm that you are all but crawling up even further (if that's possible) in his lap, leaving you unable to breathe.
“C’mere."
He tells you, although you haven’t moved, lifting a hand to your face to brush the hair back from your eyes, lingering before his gaze slides up to yours.
