Outer Banks - Blog Posts

Starting my OBX rewatch February 3rd! An episode per day until season 3 drops!

By this the writers mean: four or five seasons of JJ and Kiara’s slow-burn, developed relationship has been long-arced, right?

Let Me, Angel Chronological Masterlist

The chronological order of how to read the series. The other master list is just the release order of the parts.

Sophomore Year:

I Heard That Rafe Sent Someone To The Hospital, Y/N

Sophomore Year:

Let Me Be Yours, Angel

Let Me Find You, Angel

Let Me Date You, Angel

Let Me Tell You The Truth, Angel

Let Me Give It To You, Angel

Let Us Cheer You Up, Angel

Let Me Try To Understand, Angel

Let Me Fix Your Problems, Angel

Let Me Drive With You, Angel

Let Me Put Her In Her Place, Angel

Let Me Help You, Angel

Let Me See It, Angel (New)

Let Me Cut It, Angel

Let Me Hold Onto You, Angel

Let Me Have Some Space, Angel

Let Me Strip, Angel

Let Me Make It Up To You, Angel

Let Me Guess, Angel

Let Me Have A Taste, Angel

Let Me In, Angel (New)

Let Me Treat You Like A Queen, Angel

Junior Year:

Let Me Make A Mess Of You, Angel

Let Me Explain, Angel

Let Me Be Your Crush, Angel

Let Me Make This Clear, Angel

Let Me Apologize To You, Angel

Let Me Write About You, Angel

Let Me Study, Angel

Let Me Spend Christmas With You, Angel

Let Me Be Your First Kiss, Angel

Let Me Keep Beating Him, Angel

Let Me Do It, Angel

Let Me Get It For You, Angel

Let Me Calm Your Mind, Angel

Let Me Protect You, Angel

Let Me Save You, Angel

Let Me Serve You, Angel

Let Me Push It For You, Angel (New)

Let Me Be Your Snuggle Buddy, Angel

Let Me Prove You Wrong, Angel

Let Me Think About It, Angel (Mar 13)

Let Me Hear That Again, Angel (New)

Senior Year:

Let Me Go Home With You, Angel

Let Me Me Get Them For You, Angel (New)

Let Me Get This Straight, Angel

Let Me Read It, Angel

Let Me Shotgun You, Angel

Let Me Have One More, Angel (New)

Let Me Do It With You, Angel

Let Me Get You A New One, Angel

Let Me Be Your Treat, Angel

Let Me Eat It, Angel (New)

Let Me Touch The Stingray, Angel

Let Me Take Care Of You, Angel

Let Me Handle It, Angel

Let Me Hold It, Angel (New)

Let Me Recreate It, Angel

Let Me Spoil You, Angel

Let Me Do Your Hair, Angel (New)

Let Me Dance With You, Angel

Let Me Pamper Us, Angel

Let Me Take Your Boat Card, Angel

Let Me Take A Second, Angel

After University:

I Will Marry You, Rafe

I Will Be Yours Forever, Rafe

I Will Try Something, Rafe

I Will Use It, Rafe

I Will Be Your Girlfriend, Rafe

I Will Explode With Joy, Rafe

I Will Pick You Up, Rafe

I Will Take Care Of You, Rafe

I Will Love It, Rafe

I Will Come Back, Rafe

I Will Make You Forget, Rafe

I Will Be A Mom, Rafe

I Will Slap You, Rafe

After Kids:

You Are Going To Be My Entertainment, Baby

You Are A Gentleman, Baby

You Have To Be Clear, Baby

You Need To Talk To Daddy, Baby

You Are Our Perfect Boy, Baby

this is a bit vague but, how do you think jj would be with bestfriend!reader?

coz i fricking hate when people make it seem like they would be all over eachother but then will be like oh no we’re just friends. i just feel like it’s so unrealistic

omg i love me some friends to lovers but specifically the time between the two when they’re rlly close friends but with like a smidgen of attraction peaking thru smiles deviously….

thank you for the ask sweetcheeks!! ♥︎

jj is a very touchy guy, we see it all throughout the show. so he enjoys lovin’ on his friends, god forbid! 😒😒

if we’re talkin bsf!pogue!reader:

- i feel like his feelings at first would just sort of manifest in his fierce loyalty and protectiveness that he has for his friends (but like times 10)

- always keeping a closer eye on you when the pogues get themselves into dangerous situations

- whenever somebody says anything remotely negative about you, he loses his shit

- “yeah, she’s pretty - but like, i spoke to her at the kegger last weekend… there’s clearly nothing going on up there”

- you better hope jj didn’t hear that

- and although he is against hitting women, you know that bitch’s boyfriend is getting his head caved in just on principle

- coming home from the beach with bloody knuckles…

- ‘jj… what did you do…??’

- ‘that is definitely a question!’

- he would be SO FLIRTY LIKE STFUUUU

- always calling you ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ and telling you ‘not to worry your pretty lil’ head about it, okay?’ anytime he inevitably gets himself into trouble again…

- but you guys have been friends for years and he’s known you for so long that it’s just like a platonic nickname. right??…….. it’s just his silly way of being friendly… right???….. WRONG!!

- he always softly tugs on the ends of your skirts and dresses to get you to look at him + pulls the hem down when they ride up too much throughout the day

- everytime he manages to makes you laugh he celebrates like an idiot

- genuinely starts whooping and yipeeing the fuckin loser

- which just makes you giggle more coz what the hell are you doing running laps around the chateau go to bed!!

anyways that’s all i have for now, send more asks!!!!! they get my juices flowing (pun INTENDED!!)

TREAT ME LIKE A SLUT

Pairing: JJ Maybank × AFAB(she/her) reader

Summary: the title says it all

WARNINGS: SMUT, dirty and unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap kids), dirty talk

A/N: English is not my first language, sorry if you spot any mistake! Hope you like it xx

As you were dancing with your friend around the beach bonfire, you felt JJ’s gaze on your body. He couldn’t take his eyes away from your perfect body in this tiny bikini, moving to the rhythm of the music.

You and JJ were neither friends nor lovers, only sex buddies. You slept with him since a couple of months now. It was the only interaction you guys really had. No conversation or anything, only sex. It all started when you both met at a surf competition, disputing for the first place. You won and it pissed JJ off. He was being a dick to you, and your short temper and anger issues couldn’t handle the rudeness he showed you. So, you blew him off. Stubborn like you both were, neither one of you would let go of this fight. But your cockiness was the last straw for him. He ended up grabbing your wrist to guide you in the Twinkie. Once inside the van, JJ pinned you against the door. “You think you’re so smart, uh?” and with a smirk on his face, he kissed you hard.

JJ’s gaze was burning your body, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his hard dick at the sight of your ass shaking in this particular bikini who, you knew, drove him mad.

When your eyes met, you winked at him and you felt his stare becoming darker. He smirked before walking up to you. Your stomach dropped thinking about the trouble that was waiting for you.

You felt a large arm encircle your waist and pulling you away from the crowd. Before you could realize, you found yourself alone with JJ on the other side of the beach.

He didn’t say a single word before kissing you harshly and cupping your buttcheeks with his big hands. You melt in the kiss, your tongues now dancing together. He slapped your ass roughly and you felt his cold rings marking you, making you moan in the kiss. You hated to admit it but you were already soaked. This man drove you crazy, and just by looking at you, he made you dripping wet. You didn’t want to admit it, your pride was too big for that. But he knew damn well the effect he had on you. And you knew damn well the effect you had on him.

You pulled away from the kiss, “God you’re so impatient” you said with a cocky smile. He pulled your salty hair hardly causing you to whimper, “You’re the one who’ve been waiting for me to fuck you all night long”.

With his free hand, he brushed your hard nipple though your bikini top, before grabbing your entire tit. He let go of your hair, placing his hand on your waist, pulling you closer.

He leaned into your ear and whispered, “Tell me what you want princess”.

You shivered, “Treat me like a slut, J”.

You could feel his dick twitch in his pants at your words.

He didn’t wait another second before taking your bikini top off. He then proceeded to lay you on the sand before placing himself between your legs, on top of you.

He licked your hard nipple, sucking and nibbling it while playing with the other one with his hand. You were sopping your bikini bottom. You groaned as the sensation was too good. You needed more. You wriggled your pelvis against his covered erection to feel any kind of friction but he stopped you with his hard grip on your thigh.

“Can’t wait for my cock to fill you up hm?”

He flipped you over and pulled your waist up so that your ass was raised up. He could see how wet you were through the fabric of your swimwear.

He slightly touched your core, making you moan and jiggle your ass for more. He spanked you hard once again, his rings sharped the pain and pleasure of it.  You let out a heavy whinge, making him smile.

“You’re such a slut for me, Y/N”.

He then pulled downed your panties, revealing your inflated and damp pussy.

“Look at you, already so wet and I’ve barely even touched you”. He spanked you another time before letting his hand heads toward your drenched cunt. He started running his fingers up and down your core before slowly circling your clit. Your breathing was jerky while you were shaking your ass to feel more of it. JJ slapped your ass with his free hand before grabbing your thigh so tightly that a bruise will form tomorrow morning. He inserted two fingers inside your vagina, making you moan loudly.

“J, please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

His fingers curled inside you, causing you to moan one more time.

“Fucking fuck me J”

He laughed and removed his fingers leaving you empty.

He turned you over so you could face him before placing his two fingers in front of your mouth.

“Suck”.

You did as he told. You could taste yourself, sucking them clean, looking at him in his eyes, his erection twitching as he watched you. Once you’re finished, you withdraw his fingers out of your mouth with a loud sucking sound, leaving a fine trickle of drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.

You heard him whisper, “fuck…”.

A satisfaction smirk marked your face.

He took off his clothes, leaving his proudly erected penis finally break free. You were impressed by the size of it. Even though it’s not the first time that you saw it, it seems bigger and more swollen.

He lined himself at your entrance, and pushed his cock in without a warning. He immediately started pounding into you, his balls clapping against your juicy ass, leaving you no time to adjust to his size. You let out a loud porn moan escape, while little tears flowed out of the corner of your eyes since the pain relieved your puffy pussy.

“Fuck J!” you moaned.

JJ lifted your legs up on his shoulders so he could go deeper, still pounding into you.

You arched your back, your eyes rolled in the back of your head. You tugged his hair, making him growl.

“You like that, you slut?”

Fuck. You did like that. A lot.

“Harder JJ, ..please” you managed to say between two moans.

J sped up his pace, hammering harder into you. His hand went down to your clit, massaging it while fucking you roughly, while the other went around your throat, chocking you.

You could feel your orgasm building up, your toes curling and your moans getting louder. J could feel your walls clenched around his dick.

“Go ahead, cum on my cock baby”.

His poundings were rougher, deeper while you two orgasmed at the same time, his cum filling you in.

After you both catch your breath, he withdrew from you, leaving you an emptiness sensation.

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out”.

You did, looking at him in his eyes and he spat on it. He then put his ringed thumb on it, closing your mouth with his finger underneath your chin. You sucked his thumb out and swallowed his saliva while never breaking the eye contact between you two.

He chuckled slyly and gave you a light, but condescending slap on the cheek,

“Little dirty bitch I love to fuck”.

Luv of how intentionally petty Rage seems

Never say never || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: thank u for the request I love it!! @ghostlythinggoingaround

Warnings: swearing, sofia is insecure abt herself. other than that, nothing really

Word count: 1,317

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

"Who are you looking at?" JJ asked, his curiosity piqued as he followed Sofia's intense gaze across the room. His eyes landed on Rafe, who stood by the pool table, exuding his usual air of arrogance. JJ let out a loud sigh and turned back to Sofia, concern etched on his face.

"Sof, you gotta stop," he said, frowning deeply. Sofia looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, her hands mechanically wiping the glasses clean behind the bar. "Stop with what?" she asked, her voice tinged with feigned ignorance.

"Thinking you have a chance with Rafe," JJ replied bluntly. Sofia's hands paused for a brief moment before she resumed her task, her shoulders tensing. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that—well, I did, but—" JJ stammered, his voice trailing off as he noticed the sadness clouding her eyes.

He sighed heavily, "Rafe doesn't do relationships, you know that, right? He'll string you along and then break your heart. Besides, he's a jackass." JJ scoffed, his eyes flicking back to Rafe, who was now laughing loudly with a group of friends.

"Who's a jackass?" a familiar voice chimed in from behind them. JJ and Sofia turned to find Sarah, John B, and Pope approaching the bar. Sarah settled into a bar stool beside JJ, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"Your brother," JJ stated, his tone flat. Sarah snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. "He's worse, trust me," she said, her eyes shifting to Sofia with a knowing look. "Don't tell me you still like Rafe?" Sarah raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with incredulity.

Sofia swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sof—" Sarah began, but Sofia cut her off. "Don't. JJ's already said enough," she sighed, placing the last glass back on the rack before leaning against the counter, her posture defeated. "I just don't understand why he doesn't do relationships."

"Commitment issues, probably," Pope suggested, his eyes following the group's collective gaze towards Rafe, who was in conversation with Topper. "He's got way more issues—" John B started, but Sofia shushed him urgently.

"Stop, he's coming this way!" she whisper-yelled, quickly pretending to be busy as Rafe sauntered over. Rafe walked past them all without a second glance, his attention solely focused on the bartender at the far end of the counter. Sofia took a deep breath, mustering her courage as she approached him, ready to offer her service.

But just as she reached him, Rafe glanced her way, his expression indifferent, and turned to the other bartender to place his order. Sofia's heart sank, and she turned back to her friends, who were watching her with sympathetic eyes.

"See? He's an asshole, Sof. Don't waste your time on him," Sarah advised, her voice softening as she watched Sofia's sullen expression. "I guess," Sofia murmured, her gaze lingering on Rafe for a moment longer.

~

"What time do you get off? I was thinking we could have a fire tonight and have drinks at the chateau," John B suggested, leaning casually against the bar. "I'll be off at seven, and that sounds great," Sofia replied with a bright smile. The others chimed in with their agreement, the excitement of the plan evident in their voices.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sofia noticed you standing by the counter, catching her attention. "I'll be back," she said to her friends, making her way over to you with a welcoming smile. "Hey, can I get you something?" Sofia asked, her eyes meeting yours as you lifted your gaze from your phone, a friendly smile on your lips.

"Hi! Can I just get a Long Island Iced Tea, please?" you replied. "Sure, coming right up," she said, her smile widening as she turned to prepare the drink. As she mixed the ingredients, Sofia couldn't help but steal glances at you. Your natural beauty seemed effortless, and she felt a pang of envy. Your perfectly styled hair, flawless skin, and confident demeanor made her acutely aware of her own insecurities.

"That's a gorgeous necklace you got there," Sofia remarked, her eyes lingering on the shimmering pendant that caught the light with every movement. You smiled warmly, your fingers instinctively reaching up to toy with the delicate chain. Sofia's gaze remained fixed, silently estimating its worth and admiring its intricate design.

"Thanks, my boyfriend gave it to me for my birthday," you chuckled, a note of fondness in your voice. Sofia nodded with a smile, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of envy. She turned back to prepare your drink, but you called out, "Babe, did you want anything?"

Sofia's eyes widened in surprise as she turned and saw Rafe standing beside you, his arm protectively draped over your shoulder. "Whatever you're getting," he replied smoothly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You smiled at Sofia, who struggled to mask her shock and disbelief.

"Can I get another one, please?" you asked, your tone polite and cheerful. Sofia's eyes darted between you and Rafe, her heart sinking as she realized the truth: your boyfriend was Rafe, the guy who supposedly never did relationships. The realization hit her hard, leaving her momentarily stunned.

Rafe noticed the awkward silence and turned his attention to Sofia, who still held your drink. "Are you just gonna stand there?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a hint of impatience.

Your eyes widened in embarrassment. "Don't be rude," you whispered to him, trying to diffuse the tension. Snapping out of her daze, Sofia mumbled, "Sorry," and placed your drink on the counter with a clatter, spilling some of its contents in her haste.

As she prepared the next drink, Sofia couldn't help but eavesdrop on your conversation with Rafe. "Do you wanna do anything this afternoon?" Rafe asked, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. "Got any ideas?" you chuckled, resting your hands on his arms, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

"Could take the boat out and have dinner?" he suggested, causing your smile to widen with excitement. "That sounds great—" you began, but were interrupted by a loud thud. "There's your drink," Sofia said, pushing the glass toward you with a bit more force than intended. You thanked her and reached for your card, but Rafe quickly swatted your hand away.

"Don't even," Rafe said playfully, making you sigh jokingly. "Rafe—" you started, but he cut you off, chuckling. "You know to just put it on my tab." Sofia's annoyance bubbled over, her fingers tapping rapidly on the counter in frustration. "Just put it on my tab, Cameron," Rafe repeated, not even glancing at her as he took both drinks.

“Thanks again,” you said with a polite smile to Sofia before walking off with Rafe. From behind the bar, Sofia watched with a mix of emotions as you settled onto Rafe’s lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. Laughter bubbled up between you, triggered by something one of your friends said, a scene that ignited jealousy and heartache in Sofia.

She exhaled shakily before returning to her friends, attempting to distract herself from the sight. Unbeknownst to Sofia, her friends had witnessed the entire scene. “Did you not know?” Sofia asked Sarah, wiping down the bar in an effort to focus her thoughts. Sarah hesitated before responding, her expression conflicted. “I did…” she trailed off.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sofia’s voice quivered with confusion and hurt, her brows furrowing. “I didn’t know they were together!” Sarah’s voice was defensive yet apologetic. “I thought they were just hooking up, but I guess not…” She shrugged, a look of regret crossing her face.

“How long?” Sofia finally spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. Sarah hesitated, meeting Sofia’s gaze for a fleeting moment before answering, “About a month, now?” Sofia fell silent, her lips pressed tightly together as she struggled to maintain her composure. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them spill over.

“Shit. They’re even matching clothes and everything,” Pope muttered under his breath, the disbelief evident in his voice. His words were abruptly silenced by a firm slap from John B on his chest.

“Sofia…” JJ began, his tone soft and filled with concern. But Sofia, determined not to let her emotions show, dismissed him with a wave of her hand. A solitary tear had slipped down her cheek, betraying her true feelings, which she quickly wiped away.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They look good together anyway,” she added, casting a fleeting glance at you and Rafe. The sight of you both seemed to sting, but she tried to mask it.

Clearing her throat, Sofia straightened up, striving to maintain her composure. “I’m just gonna go back to work,” she said, her voice steadying as she turned away. With a final, determined breath, she walked off, leaving her friends behind, trying to hold herself together.

Hey!

Last updated 07/30/23.

So...my last post has been gaining me a few followers so I thought I'd make a post detailing specific characters that I'll write for.

I'll also copy and paste my past post about what I will and won't write at the end.

Also, anything I write will be X fem! Reader.

(I will be constantly updating this post as I become more comfortable with writing for more characters)

Marvel men

-Miguel O’Hara

-Marc Spector/the rest of the Moon Knight system

-Matt Murdock

-Frank Castle

-Peter Parker (all three)

-Steve Rogers

-Bucky Barnes

Marvel women

-Valkyrie

-Natasha Romanoff

-Wanda Maximoff

-Shuri (WIFE-sorry lemme calm down)

-Carol Danvers

-Darcy Lewis

Stranger Things (it's a short list cause most of the characters in the show are literally children :)

-Steve Harrington

-Eddie Munson

-Hopper (yup you read that right cause I love DILFS)

-Robin Buckley

Criminal Minds

-Every single one of them. (Nah I'm just playing)

-Spencer Reid

-Emily Prentiss

-Aaron Hotchner

-Jennifer Jareau

-Derek Morgan

-Luke Alvarez

Triple Frontier

-Every character except Ben Affleck's.

TVD (The Vampire Diaries)

-Damon Salvatore

-Stefan Salvatore

-Elijah Mikaelson

-Rebekah Mikaelson

-Klaus Mikaelson

Miscellaneous (characters from random fandoms/movies)

-Javier Peña (Narcos)

-Lloyd Hansen (Gray Man)

-Joel Miller (TLOU)

-Jake 'Hangman' Sersin (Top Gun: Maverick)

-Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw (Top Gun: Maverick)

-Sam Winchester (Supernatural)

-Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

-Castiel (Supernatural)

-Soldier Boy (The Boys)

-Lip Gallagher (Shameless)

-Carmen Berzatto (The Bear)

-Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders)

-Siobhan Roy (Succession)

-Bruce Wayne (Robert Pattinson or Christian Bale)

More to be added...

(Looking over this list I have arrived at the conclusion that I am a whore-)

In terms of what exactly I’m open to writing? I can write headcanons, blurbs, and one-shots. Specifically smut, angst, and fluff. The more descriptive you are in your requests, the easier it is for me to write them. But I don't mind the challenge of having to make my own plot.

Kinks/scenarios I’ll write smut for? Almost everything EXCEPT;

-inc3st

-r*pe

-Lactation kink

-pegging (into it in real life but I have no clue how to write it properly I'm sorry)

-Wax play (note I didn't say temperature play because I will write some stuff with Ice)

-Age play (specifically where a character is purposely behaving in a childlike manner/ baby talk. Daddy and Mommy kinks are welcomed tho!)

-CNC and noncon (I’ll definitely write some VERY MILD dubcon if asked tho)

-sexual activities with m1n0rs

-Domestic Vi0lence/ SexuaI abus3 (spanking is a yes tho)

-Scat & Piss

-Race play

-SEVERE knife kink (like I'll write a small knick or slice that barely bleeds or something but anything else is a no for me sorry)

-S3lf Harm/Su1cide (this is not to say that I feel any way towards people who struggle with these issues but I don't think I'm able to effectively represent them in my writing without triggering myself (as someone who has/is struggled with depression) and the last thing I want to do is offend anyone)

Anyways, that’s it for now! Like I said, feel free to make requests or even just send me a regular question or comment to get to know me! 

MY OCs

- Princess Visenya Velaryon second of her name, rider of Meraxes The Sliver Queen, The Darkling, Visenya come again

- Trueborn Daughter of Princess Rhaenrya and Laenor Velaryon

- HOTD

- Aaliyah Valentine daughter of MM ( mothers milk)

- a very powerful supe

- THE BOYS

- Jade Hayward

- pogue/kook

- on/off toxic relationship with rafe

- Outer Banks

Incest fics are way too common

madelyn cline icons

sarah cameron 1x01: pilot icons

madelyn cline icons

madelyn cline icons

madelyn cline icons

madelyn cline fall themed icons 🍂

madelyn cline icons.

madelyn cline halloween icons 👻🕸️🩶

madelyn cline icons.

madelyn cline icons.

madelyn cline icons.

madelyn cline icons.

madelyn cline icons.

madelyn cline icons

madelyn cline icons.

madelyn cline icons.

madelyn cline icons.

STRANGERS AGAIN, JJ MAYBANK | Disponible en Wattpad.

──Tiene sentido ──afirmó Amelie, pensativa. JJ la observó con su ceño fruncido, sin terminar de entenderla──. Quiero decir, Mallory es... superior a mi en todos los aspectos posibles.

──¿En verdad crees eso? ──cuestionó JJ, acercándose a Amelie con lentitud, tan dolido como ella. ¿Cómo podía pensar aquello teniéndolo a él a su merced?

A JJ no le preocupaba Mallory, ni mucho menos lo que ella piense sobre él y Amelie. Tan solo quería lograr quitarle a Amelie toda esa inseguridad. Deseaba que ella pudiese verse con sus ojos, y así, podría estar satisfecha con ella misma. Según JJ, ella es tan extraordinaria, que la palabra "perfección" no bastaría para detallar cada hermosa particularidad que él le encontraba.

──Pues... Mallory es... bastante bonita.

──Y tú eres jodidamente hermosa, Ames.

STRANGERS AGAIN, JJ Maybank ! disponible en wattpad (solicitar link).

❝ i remember when i first noticed that you liked me back ❞

──Vamos, Ames...

Tras no obtener respuesta alguna de la nombrada, JJ suspiró, dándose por vencido.

Y así, sumidos en la incomodidad del silencio, Amelie y JJ examinaron la zona tal y como Pope lo había mandado.

Era extraño estar siendo acompañada por JJ y estar en silencio. Por lo general, de entre todos los integrantes del grupo, JJ y Amelie eran los más charlatanes, y era peor si se encontraban juntos. Pero ahora, estaban juntos, y en silencio. Un silencio que pareció durar años.

──Ames, vamos, no puedes estar enfadada conmigo hasta que mueras  ──resopló JJ, con súplica──. ¿O si? ──añadió para él, pensativo.

Finalmente, Amelie decidió dar su brazo a torcer. Se dio la media vuelta y enfrentó al rubio.

──Sí puedo ──inició ella con su reproche──. Anoche me dijiste cosas hirientes. Cosas que sabes que me duelen oír. No te importó lastimarme, ¿y ahora quieres que finja que nada ha pasado? ──cuestionó, incrédula.

JJ observó sus zapatos con incomodidad. Luego, su mirada volvió a subir a Amelie.

──Lo sé, admito que estuve mal... pero sabes que no se me da muy bien pedir disculpas. Nunca lo he hecho. O al menos, nunca había sentido este tipo de arrepentimiento en serio ──contestó JJ, con mirada suplicante. A pesar de lo convincente que sonó, Amelie no se rindió.

──Pues conmigo deberás aprender a pedir disculpas ──aseguró, ganándose una derrotada mirada por parte de JJ. Él no parecía estar seguro de que aquello vaya a salir bien, por lo que volvió a murmurar──. Me lastimaste, JJ. Eras la última persona que me hubiera imaginado diciéndome tales cosas...

──Soy un idiota, Amelie. No... no merezco que me perdones, solo estaba... ──titubeaba JJ, pero, cuando estuvo por llegar al final, pareció arrepentirse de la información que casi iba a soltar──. Estaba... Mierda.

──Te dejaré pensarlo ──dijo Amelie, queriendo alejarse.

Sin querer su alejamiento otra vez, JJ extendió una de sus manos y tomó la mano de Amelie, deteniéndola.

──Espera, por favor ──pidió, asegurándose de que Amelie no volvería a intentar escapar.

La razón por la que se mantuvo allí fue porque JJ en verdad se veía arrepentido. Amelie tenía en cuenta que JJ jamás suplicaba o rogaba, mucho menos por un perdón de ella.

──Estaba celoso ──finalmente, lo soltó. Lo soltó tan rápido que Amelie no pudo asegurarse de que había oído bien. Tan rápido, que él pareció arrepentirse tras ver la duda en Amelie.

──¿Celoso? ¿Por qué? ──interrogó la castaña. Desde que tenía uso de razón, JJ nunca se había puesto celoso por ella.

──Porque... yo... ──JJ parecía querer decir algo, pero, sea lo que sea, no lo hizo, y Amelie tuvo que quedarse con la tortuosa duda──. Porque creí que nos dejarías por Jack. Que... serían buenos amigos como... nosotros.

Amelie reprimió una risa. JJ frunció su ceño, sospechando que Amelie había descubierto su mentira.

──Puedo tener más amigos que ustedes, JJ ──explicó ella, intentando no demostrar lo raro que se le estaba haciendo hablar con su mejor amigo sobre los celos──. Eso no significa que los dejaré. Nadie sería capaz de tener una amistad como la que tengo contigo. Jamás. Es, científicamente, imposible.

Esta vez fue JJ quien sonrió, sus hombros parecieron dejar de estar tensos.

──Me alegra saber eso ──aseguró, aunque hubiese sido mentira, de cierta manera, sí le agradaba saberlo──. Hablando en serio, Ames, perdóname por ser un idiota y decirte todas esas cosas de las que, por cierto, no estoy de acuerdo.

──Está bien, cuando estamos enfadados decimos cosas que sabemos que le hieren al otro, pero eso no significa que creamos eso.

Luego, llegaron los segundos más largos en la vida de ambos. JJ sonrió con ternura, encontrándose nuevamente con los ojos de Amelie. Esos que siempre le recordaban que, si le gustaba, podría hacerlo cada vez más con tan solo mirarlos.

Tal vez, ambos pensaron en el otro más de lo que deberían durante toda su amistad. Porque allí, mirándose mutuamente, pudieron encontrar todos esos recuerdos en los que desearon ser más que amigos.

Allí, Amelie y JJ descubrieron que, tal vez, aquellos sentimientos eran correspondidos.

Una de las manos de JJ se posó sobre la mejilla de Amelie. La acunó con delicadeza y acarició su rostro, como si de un trozo de cristal se tratase, admirando su suavidad. Amelie cerró sus ojos, dejándose llevar. A pesar de no verlo, supo que JJ continuó observándola.

──Ames...

i wish i could feel the same way i felt when i read this for the first time. one of my absolute favorite pieces of writing ever. i think about it all the time.

COMPLETED (2/2)

Part One: “Devils Roll The Dice”

JJ and Y/N‘s friendship has been different since they secretly started hooking up. With new feelings stirred up by the recent change in their relationship, Y/N avoids JJ until the Pogues gather them together for a Fourth of July party that can only end in chaos.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, strong language, alcohol consumption, angst, implied physical abuse, and mild violence.

Word Count: 17k

Part Two: “Angels Roll Their Eyes”

Hurricane Agatha approaches Kildare Island during the aftermath of the eventful Fourth of July party. JJ and Y/N are determined to continue avoiding each other after what happened at the party, but John B, Kiara, and Pope have other plans for them.

Warnings: Smut, strong language, angst, implied physical abuse, depictions of anxiety/panic attacks, and sickeningly sweet fluff.

Word Count: 24k

(gif: @jackpearcsn)

i’ll do a proper reblog as soon as i finish work but HOLY SHIT HOW I’VE MISSED THEM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 euro trip never fails to make my stomach do backflips!!! rafe and dream girl just have unforgettable chemistry, and the way you WRITE THEM??? RI I SWEAR IT MAKES MY HEART ACHE BECAUSE IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL!!! the name rafael has truly never been the same since euro trip!!! and your take on how to lose a guy in 10 days for THEM??? AND RAFE DOESN’T FALTER EVER. (EXCEPT FOR WHEN SHE SAID YES-I DIED) HE RINGS THE DOORBELL, HE GIVES HER MOM THE FLOWERS, HE WANTS TO LISTEN TO HER MUSIC, HE WILL TAKE HER TO EAT ANYWHERE SHE WANTS, HE COMPLIMENTS HER ALL THE TIME BECAUSE IT’S JUST SECOND NATURE TO HIM BY NOW. “Not to mention, you look like a bunch of inappropriate words in that dress,” he adds, teasing a wink. “Shit I definitely couldn’t say in front of your mom.” STOP, THIS IS SUCH A RAFAEL THING TO SAY I ADORE HIM I ADORE THEM I ADORE YOU, RI. pls truly never stop writing, you’re the best of the best.

How (not) to lose a guy in 10 days 1 date

a/n: warning unedited!!!!! just in such a silly goofy mood tonight

“Here’s an idea,” Topper whispers, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “Say yes.”

You make a face. “Serious suggestions only, please.”

“Does it look like I’m trying to be funny?” He scoffs, folding his arms behind his head.

There’s a pause as he pushes back into his seat, rough fingers intertwining in tandem with your stomach. “Just hear me out.”

You aren’t sure you want to. The only thing worse than having a crush on your best friend is having him set you up with someone else.

Especially when said someone else is the one guy at Kildare Academy that you love to hate. You frown warningly. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Topper rolls his eyes, untangling his held hands so he can lean forward again. Though you’ve managed to secure a highly coveted, private study room within the Academy library, he appears to be under the impression that the football team may be listening at the door for gossip.

All things considered, this isn’t too high a leap. (Rafe Cameron’s been appointed the captain this year, and Topper swears locker room talk’s never been sweeter.)

“Relax,” Topper mutters, lowering his voice further. “Here’s what you do — you say yes, and then be the worst date ever.”

A beat. The frown on your face may acquiesce by a margin, but the knots in your gut hear the words say yes and tighten. “Be the worst date ever?”

“Yeah,” Topper nods in affirmation, beginning to list things off. “Make him wait, don’t offer to pay, be super fussy, only talk about yourself… that kind of shit.”

“Oh,” you say, brow furrowing thoughtfully, “Right.”

As much as you’d hate to admit it, his idea does make logical sense. Everything about Rafe Cameron, from the stupid, tongue-in-cheek comments he makes to the blasé way he appears to treat other women, gives you this funny, heart lurching feeling that this thing he has for you is about winning. Not about having, let alone loving; Rafe Cameron is in this for the chase, so what happens when this game of look-but-don’t-touch becomes too easy for his taste?

So, okay, maybe Topper’s onto something. He’s been on enough first dates to have a reputable number of red flags in his repertoire, and maybe they just might work against Rafe.

He allows you a contemplative pause before continuing. “Just… basically, just be the exact opposite of the person he expects you to be.”

“And who’s the person he expects me to be?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“This perfect fucking dream girl who gets Taylor Swift songs written about her,” Topper replies, not missing a beat. It’s as though he’s reciting something he’s heard verbatim, and the thought of this has your poor heartstrings all muddled.

“Don’t even,” you mutter awkwardly, feeling your cheeks warm. There’s something about the term dream girl that singes your pulse like a shockwave; makes you feel this terrifying mess of unnameable emotions.

Complimented, for example. More pleased than the armour of austerity your skin reflects when you’re around him.

“Not to mention,” Topper continues, not acknowledging your embarrassment. You know that it’s probably subtle enough for him to be blind to it, but a tiny part of you can’t help but think that Rafe would’ve noticed.

Rafe always notices. “If I’m the reason he gets a date with you, I’ll be fucking in.”

You crinkle your nose in disgust. “What’s so great about being in with Rafe Cameron?”

“Dude.” Topper sends you a look. “Are we even going to the same school?”

“He’s a total tool,” you argue, folding your arms across your chest.

“A total tool that everyone worships,” Topper corrects, crossing his own in tandem. “And if he worships me, that means everyone’ll worship me.”

You scoff incredulously, clearly unconvinced. “There’s no way Rafael’s approval has that much social currency.”

Topper raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to one side. “You know that the fact that you’re his girl is the only reason guys don’t try anything with you, right?”

“I’m not his girl,” you mutter weakly, far weaker than you’re hoping to sound. The dream girl heat roars back through your cheeks until you’re sure that you have a temperature.

Love-sick, or something. You add, “Guys don’t trying anything with me because they aren’t interested.”

“Are you kidding?” Topper asks, sounding mildly exasperated. “You’re totally hot. You have to know that.”

You balk. There’s a pause as your wide eyes move over his features, searching for more than just platonic nonchalance. “I — what?”

“We’re getting off topic,” Topper dismisses easily, not even half as flustered as you are by the turn in conversation. “Say yes. That’s all I’m saying. Say yes, and then make him regret ever asking.”

—

Rafe’s leaning against the locker door adjacent to yours when you turn the corner.

With his arms folded across his chest the way they are—rolled sleeves of his uniform shirt and all—there’s a devastating amount of bicep on display. And he’s grinning. He has too many button undone. If you squint, you can find the sun-bleached locks of hair on his head that are ashen blonde.

You always end up taking in far more details than you can handle. But where your inventory of his appearance is something of a transaction, his of you is like being in an art museum.

His grin widens as you near, blue eyes falling over your pretty features. “Missed you today, sweetheart.”

“I saw you fourth period, Rafael,” you say, frowning bemusedly.

Rafe nods faux-sombrely. “I know right?”

You roll your eyes, reaching forward to jiggle your locker door open. There’s a formidable amount of Rafe dominating your peripheral vision, and everything from his body heat to the spice in his cologne is distracting.

“Is there anything you need?” you ask, sending him a wayward glance.

“Oh.” His grin grows in all its handsome, boyish glory. “Not really. Just admiring the scenery.”

The sun shines over the neat library of textbooks tucked within your locker. As you retrieve the ones you need for the weekend, the glossy covers cast a glow over your still-there frown.

“You’re not,” you mutter. “You’re staring.”

“Exactly.”

“At me.”

Rafe shuffles forward a touch so his biceps hit the locker hinge. He’s so close now that the gleaming hardcover illuminates the smatter of freckles on his nose. “Admiring the scenery,” Rafe agrees.

You falter.

Like… you? You’re the scenery?

More pause as you attempt to steel yourself, something terrifying and messy wreaking havoc in your chest.

You’re definitely overcompensating when you scoff and say, “You’re so full of it, you know that?”

“What’s it?” Rafe asks, edging your locker door closed with his bicep. Closer now, close enough for the closeness to make his brain short-circuit. “Feelings for you?”

You balk, the tips of your ears warming. “Not exactly what I meant.”

“Love for you?” Rafe supplies unhelpfully.

“Rafe,” you chastise, frowning.

“Y/n,” Rafe teases, bumping your shoulder with his playfully. “C’mon. I just wanted to come by and say hi.”

“Right.” You slot the textbooks into your tote bag and turn around, beginning to walk away from him. “Hi.”

“Hey — wait,” he adds quickly, pushing off the adjacent locker to fall into your step. “You doing anything fun this weekend?”

“Oh, um,” remember what Topper said, “not really.”

“Yeah?” Rafe grins confidently, messing with his sweater-mussed hair. “Now you are.”

You slow to a halt, eyeing him warily. The inch of space between you halves as you angle your figure toward his, and you think you’re able to catch the tiniest specks of green in his irises. Buttery yellow too, especially where the sun shines over them. It’s kind of pretty. You blink. “And what exactly is it that I’m doing?”

“Going to that Japanese place that just opened up downtown,” Rafe answers easily. “With me. Tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” you say, nodding once. “Okay.”

Rafe’s turn to balk. The confidence in his gaze falters as his eyes widen, lips parting slightly as he looks over your features. “Uh… okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat, turning away from him to continue walking. “What time r’you picking me up?”

“I — shit, really?” Rafe asks, stumbling forward in surprise.

You nod again, hiding the amused smile that’s threatening to grace your features. You’d never dare admit it out loud, but it’s kind of cute seeing him all flustered. It does something soft and messy to your chest; reminds you that he’s only human.

That maybe something about his feelings for you are genuine. You say, “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No, yeah, shit, I do,” he hurries, shaking his head in an attempt to regain his composure. “I’m not dreaming, yeah? This is for real?”

“This is for real,” you affirm. Something heavy and cloying settles in your gut as you say it.

It’s almost for real, your guilty brain placates. It’s not stringing him along if this thing he has for you is about the chase.

Rafe steps into your path from his spot on your left, ducking his head an inch to look over your features. There’s something sweet about the way his blue eyes cascade over the planes of your face, falling from your pretty eyelashes to the cheeks below them, the kiss of your lips. He’s looking for something. The cement-like something in your stomach thickens.

“No way,” he murmurs, almost absentmindedly. He lifts his hand to caress your jaw, rough thumb swiping over your soft skin. “Okay, yeah. You’re definitely real.”

“Of course I am,” you say weakly, caught off guard by his closeness.

His thumb stills, but doesn’t drop. “Gotta make sure.”

You swallow slightly. “Why?”

“Because you said yes.” Rafe shakes his head, like he still doesn’t believe it. “There’s no version of this where you ever say yes.”

—

“That’s fucking perfect,” Topper says.

“Nah, shit’s overkill,” Kelce disagrees. “The outfit’s still gotta look first date believable.”

You frown at your reflection in the full length mirror, toying with the fraying hem of your shorts. “A dress?”

“Not a nice one, though,” Topper says, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. “How about that black one you wore religiously in junior year? The linen’s gotta be fucking faded by now.”

“Bro — yes,” Kelce nods. “That’s perfect. D’you still have it?”

You direct your camera toward your wardrobe, shuffling through the array of dresses on wooden hangers. Pushed against a dim wall with one of the straps hanging off, the midi in question hides behind newer dresses. As you attempt to tug it free, the sound of crunching tires coasts through your open window.

You freeze. There’s a beat, hidden within the depths of your walk-in, where Topper and Kelce see more white than iris as your eyes widen. You stumble back into daylight just as Rafe’s pick-up slows to a halt, his blaring ignition fading into the wind chimes hanging above your porch.

“Shit,” you curse, throwing your phone onto your bed screen down. “Guys. He’s totally here. Shit.”

“Dude,” Topper and Kelce placate in unison, speaking to your white ceiling. “Relax.”

“You know what you have to do,” Topper adds. “And it starts with making him wait.”

You grimace, pulling the linen dress on hastily. “What if he rings the doorbell?”

“He won’t,” Topper assures, shaking his head. “Dude. The worst he’s gonna do is like… honk, or some shit. He’ll probably just flick you a text that he’s here and chill in his car until —”

Ding.

The grimace on your features goes from pained to something a little anxious. Forget butterflies—gentle creatures, as if anything about your feelings isn’t all chaos—there’s a beehive that’s wreaking havoc in your stomach. The heart that’s meant to be in your ribcage is all melted.

This date isn’t for real. Why the fuck are you so nervous?

“— uh,” there’s a tentative edge to his voice, now, “who was that?”

You bring your phone back to eye-level, half checking yourself out and half glaring at Topper Thornton. “Who the fuck do you think it was, genius?”

Another ding. Kelce wolf whistles. “No fucking way he got out of his car.”

You frown. “Why?”

“Bro,” Kelce chides, sending you a look. “Guys don’t do that shit. I mean… fuck, I knew he had a thing for you, but no way he’s down bad enough to pick you up at your door on the first date. What if your fucking dad opens it? What if your mom invites him in? Gotta hand it to him… shit’s brave, even for a straight guy with a public Taylor Swift obsession.”

“Rafael has a Taylor Swift obsession?” you ask slowly, frowning less now. The revelation moves through you like a shock of electricity; quick and surprising until you’re feeling a little weak in the knees.

Pliable, almost. Like you and him and a common interest has this not-for-real date looking more and more like something genuine.

“Yeah?” He says it like it’s common knowledge. “How the fuck did you not know that already?”

You’re formulating an indignant response to his question when the sound of the front door opening cuts you off. And then, “Oh, hi Mrs Y/l/n, is Y/n in?” before your mother’s “Rafe!” has you well and truly hanging up.

You race down the stairs with sandals held by the straps just before she has a chance to ask why he’s here.

“Rafael,” you greet quickly, hopping down the last few steps whilst simultaneously slipping them on. “Hi.”

There’s no way that the two minutes he stood on your front porch counts as the “making him wait” from Topper’s first date disaster handbook, but at least the tired linen of your midi is far more casual than his crisp blue button-up.

Except, he totally still looks like his brain’s short circuiting as he stands there and stares. He holds a modest-looking bouquet of sunflowers to his chest, its lovely ochre glow speckling light in his irises like freckles. And there’s this look on his face, this genuine, reverential look as he takes you in; it has you breaking eye-contact before you expose yourself, makes your insides feel like a big, goopy mess.

A pause before Rafe’s shaking his head. You’re almost envious of how quickly he’s able to regain his composure. “Pinch me,” he says, grinning handsomely.

Your stomach flips. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to expose strong forearms, and his hair’s a little damp where it flops over his forehead. You wonder whether he showered right before he drove over here. And then, your mind strays to cool water cascading down his chiseled abdomen. Your brain’s short circuiting now. You blink.

“You shouldn’t have got me flowers,” you say lamely.

“I know right?” Rafe agrees. “Should’ve got you something bigger. A ring.”

Your mother gasps, her wide-eyes panning to you with a quickness.

“Mom, he’s kidding,” you assure hastily, and then you pause, brow furrowing a little. “I think.”

“I’m not,” Rafe supplies.

“Yes, you are,” you say sternly, sending him a look. “Keep the flowers, Rafael.”

Rafe pouts jokingly, turning to your mother and offering them to her, instead. “For you, Mrs Y/l/n?”

“Well that’s very gentlemanly of you,” your mother says, raising her eyebrows at you. She accepts them just as you begin walking toward the front door, keenly avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, because Rafael’s known for how well he treats women,” you mutter grimly, pushing Rafe over the threshold and away from an inevitable interrogation. “Bye mom.”

“Home by 9, Rafe!” your mother calls after you, sunflowers at her hip.

Rafe, thoroughly enjoying your soft hands pressed into his back, turns his head and send her a reassuring wave. “You got it!”

Once you’re at his pick-up truck, he’s quick to break free in order to open the door for you.

And though the you part of your brain wants to argue against the action, Topper’s voice in your head—oh, and don’t forget, act like it’s your prerogative to be treated like a total princess—has you accepting it without question.

“That’s cute,” is all you say, sidling into the front seat like you own it.

Rafe has a hand on the hood of his car, the other resting over the passenger’s side window. His eyes move over your figure with that same, heart-squeezing reverence distilled within them, his tongue pressed to his cheek as he leans in to grin at you.

“Me opening the door for you?” Rafe asks.

You nod. “Bare minimum, but cute.”

“Fuck.” Rafe stumbles back, doing that infatuated, clutching-his-chest move that reminds you of Matthew McConaughey. “You knowing your self worth makes you hotter, somehow. As if that’s fucking possible.”

You don’t want to believe him, but rolling your eye’s is definitely overcompensation. “Right.”

“Not to mention, you look like a bunch of inappropriate words in that dress,” he adds, teasing a wink. “Shit I definitely couldn’t say in front of your mom.”

You frown down at the faded linen, smoothing out the creases puckering at your waistline. “It’s super old.”

“It’s super hot,” Rafe corrects.

“Rafael,” you reproach, frowning. “Do you want to go on this date or not?”

“Yeah—fuck, sorry, you’re crazy beautiful, okay?” he backtracks, raising his arms in surrender. And there’s that devastating grin on his face, again, ever-present as he jogs around the hood of his car. (Clumsily, of course, with his eyes on you from side-view mirror to side-view mirror. You aren’t sure whether this makes you want to murder him, or kiss that annoying smile right off his features.)

“Like, making me say stupid shit beautiful,” he adds. “Launch a thousand ships beautiful. Shakespeare beautiful. Taylor Swift beautiful.”

The bees in your stomach travel to your pulse, rendering it a hopeless, scrambling mess. “Speaking of,” you say, deciding not to address any of his compliments. “Can I connect to Bluetooth?”

“For sure,” Rafe says agreeably, getting into his seat and reaching forward. With forearm extended and large fingers fiddling with the stereo, there’s more of him in your periphery than there was a second ago. A lot more of him—from that heady cologne to the signet ring shaped sunspot on your shoulder.

Once he’s scrolled through the settings and found the pairing option, he turns to you expectantly. The sunlight streaming through the window behind him makes his hair look all pale and fluffy.

“Because I’m not interested in listening to your music,” you hedge.

“Fair enough.”

“Or knowing what’s in any of your playlists,” you add, growing a little exasperated. Is there nothing in this world capable of causing this guy perturbation?

“Bit of Frank Ocean,” Rafe says then, as if you’d asked him a question as opposed to dismissed him. “Taylor Swift, too—I know you’ve always liked her stuff.”

You falter, lips parting in surprise. “Really?”

“Of course.” Rafe’s smile is softer, now. The kind that says isn’t it obvious? without being overtly indignant. “They’re in most of them.”

“Oh,” you say weakly, taking pause in an attempt to regather your composure. This feels like stuffing an un-rolled sleeping bag back into its cover without folding it. “Doesn’t matter. Still don’t wanna listen.”

“Neither,” Rafe agrees. “I’d much rather listen to your music.”

Unbelievable. You try not to grimace as you say, “It’ll be the same as yours, though, apparently.”

“I know,” Rafe says matter-of-factly. “I have a whole playlist dedicated to you.”

The way he shrugs makes this revelation feel like common knowledge. Like the fact that Rafe fucking Cameron has expertly created the modern version of a mixtape for you is a given. Your pulse crackles alive, again.

“No you don’t,” you say quietly.

Rafe grins sheepishly, sliding his phone out of his front pocket. “I thought you knew. The whole football team’s heard it, your boys included.”

“No,” you repeat, eyes widening in disbelief. “I was sure they made that up.”

“Easy to make,” Rafe explains. “Difficult to make up.”

Easy to make? The idea that associating you with the sonnet-like lyrics Taylor Swift thinks up has your poor heart a mess. You say, “We’re not listening to it.”

“Good.” Rafe buckles in and switches on his ignition. “Yours’ll be better.”

“You don’t know that,” you defend, folding your arms across your chest.

“Yeah I do.”

“How so?”

“Sweetheart,” Rafe says, almost absentmindedly, placing his arm behind your headrest as he reverses. “Because everything about you is better than everything about me.”

—

You wait until the food that you ordered is on the table to say it.

“I don’t even like Japanese.”

And it physically pains you to do so.

As a matter of fact, everything about guileless Rafe and his immunity to Topper approved icks is proving far too painful for your guilt-ridden heart to handle.

Because nothing—nothing—you say or do affects him. The fact that you’re wearing an old dress to a new establishment, the fact that you’re acting as though you deserve the princess treatment regardless. (Rafe seems to be under the impression that you do. He’s been nothing but a gentleman since your front porch rendezvous.)

The fact that you haven’t said thank you, haven’t asked about him, haven’t acted in any way interested. The fact that you’re being totally fussy about dinner. If Rafe was a normal guy, he’d have run for a hills by now.

Except that he isn’t one. Within his chest cavity, there’s a locket with your photo in it instead of a beating heart.

He says, “No biggie. We can go somewhere else?”

“I — huh?” you balk, taken aback. “You’re kidding, right? What about all of this food?”

“What about it?” Rafe shrugs. “I’ll tell the waiter to pack it up. Or keep it for himself, whatever. What d’you feel like eating instead?”

Shit. He’s totally unfazed. There’s something about his nonchalance that makes your heart do a funny little flip. “Nothing,” you answer, trying to buy time.

“Nothing?” Rafe echoes, brow furrowing with concern. “You have to eat, dream girl.”

“Not hungry anymore,” you lie.

“We’ll wait till you are, then,” Rafe decides, reaching forward to give your hand a quick squeeze. “I’m easy either way.”

“But,” you falter, the heat of his palm jolting through you like electricity, “aren’t you hungry?”

“It’s really hard to focus on anything other than how pretty you look right now,” Rafe says honestly, grinning.

You groan, sliding your hand out from under his all sweet and nervous. “Rafael.”

“Y/n,” Rafe teases, his tone full of mirth. “Okay. Before we got here, you were telling me about that movie you watch every year.”

“10 things I hate about you?” you ask, smiling despite yourself. “No way you actually care about that.”

Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. “I care about you.”

A pause. Your eyes skate over his features with a slowness that makes them soften. “How?”

“How?” Rafe echoes, frowning bemusedly.

“You barely know me, Rafael,” you say quietly, timidly. The fight in you long gone, you’re beginning to accept that this thing is for real.

It’s terrifying.

You can deny it, avoid it, throw ick’s at it in an attempt to stall it, but you’re finally beginning to realise that the one thing that you can’t do is run from it forever.

“That’s not how it feels,” Rafe murmurs. He has this way of sounding sure of himself even when he’s speaking softly.

“You’re enjoying this date, huh?” you ask after a beat.

“So much,” Rafe says, still hushed, “that I won’t rest until you enjoy it, too.”

The thaw in your heart freezes. Something about the sureness of his words — the I won’t rest followed by steely determination, makes this feel like a competition, all over again.

Like this thing is about him winning.

You can’t let yourself enjoy this.

And so, after much deliberation, the pair of you decide on an Italian place for dinner. Except—pasta totally makes you bloated, so burger replace fetuccine alfredo. You hate burgers. Rafe suggests pad thai and curry for dinner. The cycle repeats until you’re sick of it and he isn’t; when he drops you home at 9pm, it’s with a stomach full of takeaways and a overwhelming feeling in your ribcage.

He almost kisses you on your porch steps. He almost gets another date. Almost, almost, almost… and when you’re calling Topper and Kelce to debrief them on the details, the sentence “He isn’t that bad, really,” almost slips out of your mouth and threatens to expose its success.