It's Important To Be Mindful Of Your Thoughts And Try To Practice Positive Thinking. This Doesn't Mean

off the record

❝ go ahead and ask your questions, but i want you to ride my thigh while you do. ❞

PAIRING ▸ johnny suh x fem!reader 

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, sports au, journalist au, fuckbuddies to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual tension, lots of teasing and flirty banter, smut (this is so self indulgent), dirty talk, oral sex (fem. receiving), squirting, orgasm denial, praise, kinda degradation, thigh riding, fingering, sex in front of a mirror, steamy scene in a shower, johnny is actually very soft, alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, ft. annoying best friends chenle, jisung, and mark

SUMMARY ▸ when you get the biggest scoop on one of the sports teams, you’re determined to get in on the front page of the school newspaper. unfortunately, your only lead is the basketball team’s captain, johnny suh, and not only is he a tough nut to crack, but he’s also a little too good at distracting you.

PLAYLIST ▸ good intentions by rini • thinkin bout you by katie

WORD COUNT ▸ 12737 words

TAG LIST ▸ @leeknowsredeyeliner @geniejunn @huangberryyy @greasywall @sehunniepot @yasmini24 @gomjohnny @vantxx95 @jenoxygen @wasssuhjohnny @sadgirlroo @commentgirl @dreamycomets @sokkigarden @nohuyck @epiphany-beom @nachotequilaqueso @chitaphrrrr (+ dunk shot! tag list at the end)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so much for supporting this series !! this one took a while but it was so fun to write. part of the dunk shot! series but it can be read separately ♡ hope you enjoy !!

ACCORDING TO SOCRATES, YOU WERE POISON TO A STUDENT ATHLETE.

The so-called Socrates in question, named Zhong Chenle, had once told you that if he wasn’t your best friend, he would hate your guts. In the sports world, jocks and journalists didn’t seem to get along very well. Flattered, you responded to your dear friend with your middle finger.

Chenle considered himself real smart, even going as far as to compare himself to one of the greatest philosophers (hence, the nickname Socrates you deemed upon him). Yet, with this vast amount of supposed intelligence, your best friend still couldn’t seem to figure out why you were hovering around Johnny Suh like a fruit fly.

“He knows about the steroid scandal,” you explained calmly. “I just want to find out what he’s hiding.”

Zhong Chenle’s brain decided to translate this into: “I am madly in love with Johnny Suh,” so now, your stupid best friend was convinced that you had the biggest crush on the basketball team’s captain.

Continuar a ler

just let them go. they broke up with you? let them. they started seeing someone else? let them. they ghosted you? let them. true freedom is when you stop trying to control other shitty‘s actions. you deserve better.

There is no shame in loving with abandon. ✌️❤️

Plssss y/n and harry are at a party that is full of celebrities including The Weeknd (God I love him) and Harry finds out he has dated y/n. (y/n not famous, she is a normal person) lmao I need to see Harry all jealous

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

With a laugh, you slide from the barstool as he approaches, arms finding their way around his neck as he pulls you in for a long overdue hug.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he murmurs, squeezing at your hips once before letting go.

You brush the hair from your face as you lean back, fighting a rather large smile. “Harry invited me,” you tell him, nodding your chin toward the sulking man on the stool behind you. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here?”

Abel laughs, arms crossing in front of his chest. “I didn’t either, but something told me to come out tonight and I guess…now I know why.”

“Please,” you snort, clocking the suggestive look in his eye, but blushing, nonetheless. He always knew the way to your heart was flattery, and you can’t deny that you’re pleased to see your old friend. “How’ve you been?”

He launches into an explanation of his wild week, and you nod appreciatively, listening to each detail as he recalls it. 

You’re excited to see him, having not really heard from him for a few months, although you suppose you understand why. 

But no matter the reason for the disappearance, you give him your undivided attention, happy for the brief connection.

It’s not until Abel begins describing the hassle going on with his label that you feel a familiar arm snake its way around your hip. 

With a subtle tug, you find yourself now sitting firmly on a lap. Harry’s lap, to be specific. And you know him well enough to know the pressure of his fingertips along your hip is indicative of his annoyance.

You smirk, letting your hand rest over top his as Abel continues speaking, oblivious to the subliminal argument you and Harry are currently having.

His knee begins to jostle beneath you, anxious and irritated. You liken it to that of him tapping his wrist impatiently as if telling Abel to hurry the fuck up already.

In return, you squeeze his palm between your fingers. Once. Twice. Calm. Down.

The arm around your waist tightens. Until your back is softly jerked against his chest. No.

You wonder the reason for this behavior. Sure, his jealousy makes an appearance once in a while, but not usually around his own friends. Not in a place like this. And not around someone as sweet as Abel, who is so far back in your past, you can hardly remember it.

Harry’s chin finds your shoulder. Rests there. Jaw clenched. Fingers now tapping your hip. Hurry.

You nestle back into his embrace, relaxing against his large frame as you exhale softly. Easy.

“—so, I wasn’t really sure what to do, you know?” Abel shrugs, glancing toward the rest of the room before looking back. “But what about you, huh? Wasn’t sure I’d see you around for a while.”

Harry’s grip tightens.

“Oh, no, this isn’t really my scene,” you agree quickly, laughing a bit as you straighten up, attempting to loosen the hold on your hip. “But with Harry’s tour starting soon, figured I’d swing by before he heads off.”

“That’s right. That’s so cool, man. Heard it’s is gonna be huge,” Abel replies, eyes flicking to Harry as he offers a supportive grin. “Yeah, hoping to swing by the L.A. show sometime.”

Appreciative of the kind gesture, you offer Abel a thankful smile before glancing over your shoulder toward the still very sullen man keeping you planted to your spot.

You had expected him to at least pretend to look happy. Offer a grin of his own or even return the compliment. Pleasantries having always been his speciality.

But tonight, for some odd reason, he only frowns. “Yeah, thanks…man. Listen—” Suddenly, he’s standing, forcing you from his lap as your feet hit the floor and his fingers weave around your upper arm. “—we gotta head out. Thanks for dropping by, though.”

And with that, you’re gingerly yet forcibly slung toward the direction of the exit.

“Wait, Har—Harry,” you hiss, twisting back around to call a quick, “Sorry! It was so good to see you. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“Will do,” Abel laughs, tossing a hand up in greeting before returning to his friends and you return to the 6-foot man-child dragging you out of the party.

“Harry,” you warn as his palm outstretches to shove the double doors open and pull you into the dark night. “Harry, my arm—”

He lets go within an instant once you’re safe and sound on the sidewalk, and you stumble toward a steady footing.

His eyes, narrowed and dark with livid displeasure, find you. He stands tall. Still. Offering no explanation for his behavior as you’re left to brush your hands down your dress.

“The hell was that?” you huff, straightening up as you study him. “Since when do you manhandle me—”

“What the fuck was with you?” he retorts, hands finding his pockets as he jerks his head toward the building before raising his voice in mimic. “‘Oh, Abel, I missed you so much, it’s been so good to see you, let’s so do this again.’”

Your glare begins to mirror his, hands finding your hips as you scoff, “That’s not how that happened and why do you even care?”

“I fucking care because…” He hesitates, making a noise himself as he looks out into the street, mulling over his response. “Because it was fucking weird.”

You lean back. “What? What was weird? We were talking—”

“Yeah, why?” 

Your brows pull together, eyes falling over his hardened expression. “What do you mean why? Cause we’re friends.”

“Yeah? Is that all?”

The lilt in his voice is venomous and you can feel your muscles recoil as you hesitate. “What does that mean?”

He shrugs as if suggesting you figure it out yourself, and you’re positive you don’t like the implication.

You take a cautious step toward him, pointer finger raising in the air as you murmur, “You better watch your fucking tone, Styles. Whatever it is you’re trying to say? Don’t.”

His head cocks to the side. “What? You don’t want me to say that I think you used to fuck him?”

There it is.

You can feel the swell of livid outrage form deep in your chest as you move back. “That’s what this is about.” Not a question. A statement. A glaringly obvious acceptance. “You’re jealous he and I used to see each other.”

His glare deepens at the carefully worded phrase. “I’m not jealous—”

“Ha.” Your laugh is bitter. You look away, head shaking with disbelief. “No, that’s good. That was a good one. Because if you weren’t jealous, then why the fuck are we out here instead of in there?"

Harry straightens up. Grits his teeth. Doesn’t respond.

So, you respond for him. “Because he’s in there…right?”

More silence. More confirmation of the truth you’d almost be flattered by if he hadn’t made such a scene. 

You have two options, you realize now. 

Continue standing in the middle of the street screaming at each other as the people around you awkwardly watch. 

Or talk him down.

Even though, truthfully, you’re not sure why you have to talk him down when he’s the one acting like a child.

But it’s then that you’re reminded of the times Taylor has been in the room. Or Camille. Or Kendall. The times when you’ve never felt more out of place in this world of his. Standing beside him as he catches up with an old lover.

And despite reminding yourself that it doesn’t matter who was in his past as long as you’re in his future, it doesn’t diminish that devil on your shoulder reminding you how different you are from his very specific type.

No matter your confidence in your relationship, it doesn’t erase the small trickle of doubt that works its way in when you see them together.

And the only thing that truly brings you back to reality is the tender tone of his voice as he reminds you that you’re the only one he sees in a room full of people. 

It’s a kindness that makes a world of difference. 

A kindness you see he needs now.

Slowly, your resolve fades, anger dissipating with each second that passes.

You step closer to him, small hands smoothing up his chest until you can cup his cheeks. He tenses, curious of your intentions as you begin to stroke the soft skin beneath your fingertips. Calming him. 

“Abel and I met a long time ago,” you tell him softly, noticing the flex in his fingers at the admission. Still, you carry on. “We dated—briefly—and it ended on bad terms. We weren’t really a good fit as partners. But, later, we became friends. And he’s the one who told me about the party where you and I met.”

Harry’s brow cocks upward. Yet, he doesn’t speak. He waits.

“I see him maybe once a year if that. And always in a crowded, social setting. He will always be a good memory in my past. But you…you, Har, are my future.”

Now you begin to see the understanding. The relaxation in his muscles. In his expression. In the way his hands find your hips to pull you a bit closer. Have you near.

“And in a room full of Abel’s…I only see you,” you can’t help but add a bit cheekily, and you’re rewarded with his smirk.

“Wow,” he mumbles, head shaking softly. “No, that was bad. Is that how dumb I sound when I say it?”

“Hey.” Your hand slaps at his chest. “It was cute.”

“Yeah. Sure. All right, angel, whatever you say.”

You pull your lip between your teeth, fighting a smug grin. “It was kind of cute the way you got so mad.”

Now, the glare returns, and he rolls his eyes while attempting to let go.

But you hold steady, pulling at his jaw as you laugh, “No, really. Got all grumpy and mad. Everybody wants to steal my girl, yeah? Is that—I mean, was that what was going through your—hey, where are you going?”

But he’s already striding down the sidewalk, leaving you behind as you chuckle adoringly. For a moment, he doesn’t reply. Simply walks down the street as you’re left to wonder.

Then, he turns. Smirking yet again as he calls, “I’m taking you home. So I can show you exactly what happens when someone tries to steal my girl.”

Your face flushes, thighs already attempting to clench together as you swallow apprehensively.

Then…

You follow.

Full Masterlist

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.

— Neil Gaiman, The Kindly Ones

“She doesn’t want to hear that she is flawless. She wants to hear that she is loved regardless of her flaws.”

— charmingwinds

Moon Knight:

Me ready to simp for another fictional man:

LEARN TO TAKE PICS LIKE LORI

Pro Tip: To take your pics to a more polished level, study runway models and their red carpet pics/ video glimpses.

RULE #1 : STOP STANDING STILL

Master the skill of being still…enough to pause and pose for a clear shot while being in a steady motion enough for the photographer to take a variety of pics in a matter of seconds. View the visuals below as an example:

Make sure you move enough. Feet. Hips. Chin Up. Chin Down. Turn to the side. Let me break it down how I learned:

One Leg Linda

This is a reliable pose for a charity event pic and to poke your leg out of a sexy slit dress.

Stand Straight

Arch Back

Straighten Chin & Shoulders

Step One Leg Out

Step Back- No Legs Out

Step (Other) One Leg Out

Step Back- No Legs Out

Remember how we mentioned moving in motion? Now that you’re back standing straight, you’re going to move into your next pose:

Side Step Sally

There’s a couple of different ways to jazz this pose up. Repeat the same process as above, however stepping slightly to the left AND right.

RAZZLE DAZZLE IDEAS

Step OUT and then to the SIDE, as Lori is doing in the black pic

Step OUT, angle your foot to show the side of your heel and FLEX your calf and POINT your toes. Former Stripper tip!

Point your HEAD and FOOT (of the leg out) as if you were posing facing forward for three different individuals were photographing you. It allows you to capture multiple angles of your face profile, body shape and outfit.

Pro Tip: Have your photographer (your date, bf, etc.) step to their right and left (or move the camera) before you break a pose, capturing THREE DIFFERENT ANGLES of ONE pose.

See “One Leg Linda” for a visual example.

Hip n’ Heels

This is my favorite because you can capture your Facebook family friendly pics while getting your sexy “you see this booty” pics for the gram.

Prepare to move in a North-South-East-West motion.

Straighten Back

Place Hand on Hip

Cross your preferred foot over the other (as Lori is doing in the first pic)

Move Chin in a Traffic Light Motion every 2 seconds (Red, Yellow, Green) to capture front facing pics.

Turn your HEAD to the left

Turn your HEAD to the right

Uncross Feet

Repeat 6& 7

Look Back (At It) as Lori is doing in the pic to the right while moving chin in traffic light motion.

Pose as if you’re a socialite who has to prepare to be photographed by paparazzi.

Until next time baddies 🧿💕🕯💅🏾

new light — rafe cameron

this is now part 1 of a series, check out the rest here: new light series masterlist

summary: you’re home from college in the OBX, and so is your eighth grade crush, rafe cameron.

pairing: rafe x kook reader

warnings: drinking, swearing

a/n: i think we ALL have that one high school crush that we would, to this day, drop anything and risk it all for. not canon rafe. title/lyrics/concept kinda based off of new light by john mayer. already have ideas for a part 2 so let me know

my writing

but if you give me just one night, you're gonna see me in a new light

rafecameron replied to your story: Are you in town rn too?

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when you first saw the Instagram notification. You couldn’t remember the last time you spoke to Rafe Cameron, or even saw him for that matter. Both you and Rafe had moved away to different colleges after high school ended, and even in high school you were never too close. You didn't find yourself back in the Outer Banks often these days, but when you did, you'd see Rafe around sometimes. The two of you would usually exchange quick ‘hello’s in passing at parties, occasionally talking about college or internships on boat days.

Back in high school, you were closer to his friend Kelce if anything. Rafe was always causing trouble, acting like he owned the entire island. Which, he kind of did.

You even had a fleeting crush on him back in eighth grade. That was before you all grew up and Rafe really became Rafe. You were still attracted to him, but his bad boy persona had effectively put you off any serious pursuit. You were just friends from that point on, which is why seeing his name on your phone had surprised you as you were sat scrolling Tik Tok in your childhood bedroom.

Rafe was tall, broad, cuter than anything, but just a bit outside your comfort zone when it came to romantic interests. And if he wasn't messing around drinking and picking fights at parties, Rafe was always dating someone, talking to someone, or actively hooking up with multiple someones. You played your cards close to your chest when it came to boys.

You sigh, re-reading his message over and over; just a simple six word reply to the picture you had posted of the sunset from your parents' backyard. Location tagged, so there was no denying. You tell yourself to just get over it and type out an earnest reply, just to see what he wants.

y/n: i am! you as well?

rafecameron: Yeah, Sarah's graduating this week

That's right, your little brother and his little sister, Sarah, were in the same grade at school.

y/n: nice, that's why i'm here too

y/n: my little brother’s graduating

rafecameron: I guess I'll see you there

rafecameron: Unless you'd be down to get a drink or something this week

Your first instinct is to roll your eyes. You type out a rejection immediately, but something strange happens, when you falter momentarily.

Of course you were curious. Why was Rafe Cameron asking you on a date? Was he at all?

He is pretty much the only friend you knew was home this week, all of your mutual friends were still away in their college towns. Would it be that bad if you just saw him for one drink? It'd beat just hanging out with your family all week. You ponder it for a second or two before shaking your head in finality.

What were you even thinking?

y/n: i think i'll just see you at the academy on Friday, Rafe

You start to wonder if that was a bit too harsh, but his quick reply puts you at ease.

rafecameron: Had to try. See you then 😊

—

Over the next couple of days you spent at home, you found yourself thinking about Rafe more and more. More than you had since high school, maybe more than you had ever.

"Had to try" was burned into your eyeballs at this point, based on how long you had stared at the message, trying to find a deeper meaning. Coming back to it sometimes, when you thought about it again.

Everything had reminded you of him now. Running into Ward while you were with your dad on the golf course, you found yourself way more disappointed then you should have been when you noticed Rafe wasn't with him. Your younger brother needed a ride to Sarah's graduation party, and you blushed when you noticed Rafe's truck in the driveway of their house. You swore you even passed by the Druthers out on the water one day.

You're embarrassed to admit that you had spent that entire night Rafe messaged you scrolling through his Instagram. There were some pictures you remembered seeing when he first posted them; cheesy ones with his frat brothers on a golf course, even a few with his baby sister. Those were your favorites.

No girls though, you can't help but notice.

You had scrolled all the way back in his feed to the high school days, sifting through douchey boat pictures with Topper and Kelce, only to find yourself in one picture.

Way back when, Kelce had asked you to senior prom, and you went in a big group with all of your friends.

But imagine your surprise when you and Kelce had showed up at Tanneyhill to take pictures, only to find that yours and Rafe's outfits had ended up matching better than either of yours did with your dates’. Rafe pointed it out to you first ("nice taste, Y/l/n"), and all of your friends teased you mercilessly.

His step-mother Rose had insisted the two of you got a picture together. You vividly remember being shocked that that was the picture he chose to post later that night—all of your friends, including Kelce, messaging you screenshots, teasing you even more.

Rafe had just texted you the rest of the pictures Rose took and left it at that. Then came graduation, and college, and here you are, being hit up like some old fling that you never actually were.

The two of you looked so young to you now, but you could admit it was still a great picture. Rafe had sensed you felt weird about the picture, and whispered some joke about Rose in your ear that made you break out into laughter and hit him on the chest.

He had caught you against him, hand on the small of your back and a wide smile on his lips as he looked down at you. Rose had snapped the picture at just the right moment.

Looking at it gave you butterflies now, and you started to wonder if you were too eager to reject him.

You tried to push him out of your mind while you ran errands for your family today, getting ready for all of the graduation festivities to come that weekend.

High school graduation wasn't monumental for families that lived in Figure 8, but any excuse to throw a party.

You had just pulled up to the health food store, cold brew in hand, when someone called out your name in front of the store.

And then a tall boy in a white t-shirt and a baseball cap was waving and walking towards you. Long legs strode toward you, tan skin and cologne invading your senses.

Rafe Cameron stopped just in front of you, and this close to him, you start to notice the details: his hint of stubble, the unruly hair flipping up a bit at the ends from under his cap. College had clearly been treating him well.

“What’s up?” he asks, a hand reaching up to scratch the top of his other arm a bit awkwardly, gaze never leaving yours.

“Not a lot.” You turn to pull a cart out of the stack, setting your coffee inside and leaning against it. “Just doing some errands for my mom.”

"Nice," he says immediately, nodding. The silence stretches to the point where it gets a bit awkward.

"Um, what about you?" you ask.

"Yeah, same—well, for Rose, but," he says, awkwardly holding up the bag of groceries he has, still nodding his head. "You know."

You nod at that, not really knowing what to say next. Although you weren’t sure it was the right decision anymore, especially standing here in front of him today, you’d really hoped he’d let you walk away with out bringing the DMs up.

"Yeah. Well, good to see you." You move to start pushing your cart inside the store, but Rafe grabs the side of it, halting your movements easily. You pretend not to notice the way his muscles move under the sleeves of his shirt. Had he always been that built? Fuck.

"Wait."

You stop pushing the cart, leaning against it in a way you hope comes off as leisurely.

"I just wanted to apologize if I overstepped the other night," he says sheepishly. "I don’t know if you have a boyfriend or whatever at school, but..."

He trails off, shrugging, trying and failing to suppress a curious and expectant look.

"I don't."

You say it immediately, because it's the truth. Why didn't you just pretend you did, though? It'd be easier to reject Rafe with a viable excuse, like a boyfriend back at college.

Maybe you didn't want one.

"Sorry... I just. You know," you finish awkwardly.

Rafe nods in understanding, and then he laughs a little.

"I know," he says, swinging his bag of groceries around. Again, you try not to notice. "I forgot that none of the guys in the Outer Banks were ever good enough for Y/n Y/l/n."

Your mouth drops open a little bit, your entire body flushing with heat.

"What? Don't play dumb," Rafe chides at your shocked expression. "You can't act like it isn't true."

"It's not! Sorry I don't just come home to hook up with my high school friends," you say firmly, rolling your eyes and beginning to push the cart past him.

"Who said anything about hooking up? I asked you for one drink," he reminds you. He still hasn't taken his hand off your cart. You scoff.

"Now who's playing dumb?" you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

A nanny wrangling 3 blonde triplets walks by the two of you. You begin to consider just getting another cart.

"You seriously thought I was just sliding into your DMs to fuck you?" Rafe said, voice dropping to just above a whisper. He says it quietly, but it snaps you back to reality. His demeanor has shifted, from friendly and playful to serious. And if you look too closely, maybe even a little bit of hurt. "I'm not the seventeen year old prick I was when we left here."

"Why else would you invite me out?"

"I don't know," Rafe said. "To talk to you, catch up for one night.”

“You expect me to believe you just wanted to catch up with me? ‘Talk?’” you ask, using your fingers as sarcastic quotation marks.

“Is it that hard to believe I just wanted to see you?” he presses.

"What—where is this even coming from?" you question.

Rafe is looking back at you with a completely blank stare. But you watch as recognition slowly takes over his features.

"Oh, you’re serious?" he asks.

"I..." You trail off lamely, because you have no idea what to say anymore. Rafe scoffs again, picking his hand up off of your cart to ball it into a fist, then bringing it back down to tap on the cart. Fidgeting.

"Y/n, I had the biggest crush on you," he confesses. "For like, all of high school."

That's the point at which the air leaves your lungs, your mouth falling open again.

Rafe has a blush dusting the tops of his cheeks now, but he still grins at the expression on your face.

"I thought I was obvious," he claims, shaking his head. "You really didn't know?"

"No, Rafe, I—wow," you stutter. "Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"But you were with—”

His laugh cuts you off, and you can tell he's a bit embarrassed. That hadn't been your intention at all, but you feel bad anyways.

"Well, not anymore. So," he shrugs.

You just nod, looking down to where you'd chipped off part of your fresh manicure during your conversation. Your mom was probably going to kill you.

"Rafe, I really didn't know," you say quietly.

"Now you do," he says simply. He takes his hand off of your cart then, making to move past you and finally leave. "I'll see you on Friday."

You don't watch him as he retreats, still staring down at your nails.

Shutting your eyes, you throw your head back and sigh in resignation. You weren't letting him walk away.

"Rafe, wait!" You turn around towards the parking lot, seeing that he hadn't gotten too far. He turns around just as he's about to approach his truck, the same gray one he's had since high school. "Just one night?"

His smirk is immediate, and it almost makes you regret your choice.

"I'll text you," he says, unlocking the door to his truck. "Same number?"

—

You met Rafe at some swanky, new rooftop bar near Figure 8 that had opened since you left the Outer Banks. It intimated you, but at least it wasn't a dive bar on the Cut. You knew he had frequented those back in high school.

He's standing tall at the bar when you come in, looking cleaned up nice. He still had his jeans cuffed and some god-awful boat shoes on, because some things never change.

And he’s wearing his trademark wayfarers, one high school tradition you're glad he'd never ditched because it definitely still worked for him. You can almost picture the look in his eyes behind those polarized lenses as he scans the bar.

You wait for him to see you, standing there in a lilac slip dress with the pair of platform sandals you brought home to wear to your brother’s graduation. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard for a drink with an old friend, but you couldn't help yourself wanting to look good for him. For Rafe Cameron.

He clocks you then, beaming and beckoning you over with a wave of his hand.

“You look beautiful." Rafe watches you approach, pulling you in for a hug when you’re within arms reach. “What do you think of this place?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you compliment, making a show of looking around again. “It’s gorgeous up here.”

Rafe is back to leaning up against the bar, watching as the bartender brings back your drinks—he had already ordered.

“What have you been up to at home?” You move in a slight daze as Rafe opens a tab on his black card, hands you a drink and places a hand on the small of your back to guide you somewhere less crowded.

You can’t suppress a blush when you noticed that your holding your go-to drink. How had he remembered?

You have to remind yourself to stutter out a reply.

“It’s been good,” you say, nodding again. “My parents are like, freaking out that their baby is graduating high school. Dylan doesn’t seem all that concerned. But you know how it is—always good to be home.”

Rafe’s smile gets a bit tighter at that, but he covers it up well as he pulls a chair out for you.

“What about you?”

“It’s...” he starts. His sunglasses are off now, and you have the strangest urge to reach over and smooth the line in between his eyebrows for him. You don’t, though. “I’m happy for Sarah, and I’m glad she wanted me here.”

You can tell it's still a sensitive subject, his family. Throwing him a bone, you set your drink down and change the subject.

"It's weird being back here like this, isn't it? Adults, legally drinking in public."

He huffs a laugh at that. "How would you know, Y/l/n? You were such a goodie two shoes back then."

—

Over the next few drinks (you’re on number three, which is two more than you’d promised him), it’s like you’re getting to know Rafe all over again. He’s different, yet still the same as you remember in so many ways. In the good ways.

He tells you about his life at school, his relationship with his dad, and everything in between.

But the distance from the Outer Banks had clearly done him good. He seemed more mature than you remember, more laid back but still confident. It was like this part of him that had always been there, that you had only valued now that you were seeing him in a new light.

Constantly flickering in your mind throughout the entire night is a movie highlight reel of all the moments Rafe had shown you he was worth the time of day. Eighth grade, when he dissected the frog all by himself and let you copy his lab report because you couldn’t even bare to look at it. Or Midsummers sophomore year of high school, when a waiter spilled a drink down the back of your dress and Rafe had wrapped his suit jacket around your shoulders without a second thought, driving you home after even though his license was so new he wasn't supposed to have anyone else in the car with him.

When you were both about to move to college, and Rafe threw one last get together for all of your friends that August, he’d hugged you so tight when you showed up with your girl friends, looking shocked you decided to come. Or the first time you saw him since moving away, when Kelce had thrown a Thanksgiving Eve rager. You almost hadn’t recognized Rafe in the smoke filled house, but he had moved to you eagerly like he’d been waiting for you all night.

And now you realize, he probably had.

You couldn’t look back on any one of those memories, and not have it immediately tinted by a new pair of a rose colored glasses.

He's asking about your major, your plans for the future. He even remembered Dylan's going to school for volleyball. This version of Rafe wasn't concerned with messing with pogues and pissing off his dad for attention like he had been years ago.

He's just concerned with you.

The sun had long set, string lights and the moon now the only thing illuminating both of your faces. There’s a lapse in the conversation, and you swirl your spritzer with the cocktail straw.

“Alright, I have to ask,” you say finally.

“Oh boy,” Rafe answers, his head resting in one of his hands.

“Were you serious? When you said that back at the store...” you trail off. Saying it out loud, you feel a bit silly.

“Said what?”

“That you had a crush on me back in high school,” you answer.

“Of course.”

As the bar got more crowded and the volume had increased, Rafe had pulled your chair closer to him under the pretense of being able to hear you better. It really hadn’t gotten that loud, but you weren’t going to object when he placed a strong hand under the bottom of your chair and gently yanked you closer to him. Your knees bumped constantly and his arm was hovering on the back of your chair.

But up close like this, you could see the earnestness in his eyes more clearly. And you could tell he was being truthful.

Rafe was always there, right in front of you, waiting for whenever you’d want him one day.

“I believe you,” you rush to say, placing a hand on his arm. “I guess I just thought you never really noticed me.”

“How could I not?”

Your cheeks are absolutely burning now.

“Then how come you never made a move?” you blurt.

“You didn’t seem interested in having anything to do with me,” he laughs. “Like, at all.”

You feel a bit bad when he puts it that way, even if it was true. You never thought he noticed.

“I was really shy back then,” you defend weakly. He’s looking at you fondly, like he appreciates your attempts, but can still see right through them.

“And I was an asshole,” he counters. He places a rough hand on your knee cap then. “It’s okay, Y/n/n.”

“You were intimidating,” you claim, but he just looks at you in indignation. You squawk, still thrown off by him calling you by your old nickname. “You were!”

“I was a kid.”

“Yeah, so was I,” you state incredulously. “Rafe, you ran this place. You had everything that you could have wanted.”

“Not everything," he says.

Your heartbeat picks up at his words, your eyes focusing intently on his own. He’s not unaffected by his own confession, opting to look out at the night sky rather than face you.

"I liked you too, you know," you confess. "In middle school."

He turns to face you again, eyes wider than they had been before.

"No fucking way."

"Way, Cameron," you smile. "Do you remember the frog?"

"Of course I remember the frog," he says hastily. "I-I can't believe you remember the frog."

"So I guess we were both clueless, then," you say.

"No," Rafe shuts you down, jokingly. "It's definitely not the same. You gave up on me, I was invested in the long game."

“Then what changed?” you ask, finally placing a hand over his. “Why now?”

He’s scanning your face now, looking for any signs of hesitance before sliding a warm hand to rest on the back of your neck. He strokes his thumb leisurely over your nape.

“It was kind of a shot in the dark. The timing felt right,” he says simply. “Couldn’t wait any longer, just never knowing.”

"I'm glad you did." You can feel your heartbeat in your ears now, almost missing his next comment.

“I’m gonna kiss you now, Y/l/n,” Rafe whispers, moving to lean in halfway. Everything is up to you now.

You nod eagerly, leaning in to meet him in the middle.

Kissing Rafe Cameron is different than how you had pictured it would be back in middle school. At 12, you couldn't anticipate that kissing the boy would immediately overwhelm all of your senses, taking you completely by surprise as it did. The years of history, the weight of his confessions this week, the fact that you were just having such a good time tonight—it all washed over you in waves. Waves of Rafe and his touch, his kisses, the way he’s holding you so carefully, like he’s afraid the moment will shatter with one wrong move.

Your head is positively swimming by the time Rafe pulls back from you, his hand on your knee coming up to your face, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip.

Your eyes open, re-focusing on his face at this distance. His skin is flushed pink, from the kiss, from the drinks, from the North Carolina humidity you thought you'd never miss a day in your life. But now, seeing its impact on the boy in front of you makes you more than thankful it exists.

"See, I knew sliding into your DMs would work."

You wipe the stupid smirk off of his face with one more kiss.

"Be honest, how did you know my drink?" you inquire.

Rafe flushes crimson, kissing you again, downing the remainder of his drink and offers a hand to you, standing up to take you home.

"I texted Kelce half an hour before you showed up."

—

rafecameron tagged you in a photo: had to try