Mathew Barzel x girlfriend reader
Word Count: 1176
Summary: Late night drives with Mat are never planned. They always start with a text, end with far too many snacks, and somehow become your favourite part of the week.
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Established Relationship
The first thing you noticed about Mat’s late night drives was that they were never actually planned.
They always started with a simple text.
Matty: You awake?
Usually around a time when any normal person would already be asleep.
Tonight was no different.
Your phone lit up on your bedside table around midnight.
You stared at the screen for a moment before another text came through.
Matty: Don’t ignore me.
You smiled despite yourself.
You: That’s a very demanding way to ask someone if they’re awake.
The reply came almost instantly.
Matty: So you are awake.
You rolled your eyes.
You: Unfortunately.
A few seconds passed.
Then.
Matty: Put your shoes on.
You sat up slightly.
You: That is not a normal sentence.
Matty: I’m outside.
You stared at the text, then at the time, then at the text again.
You: Matthew.
Matty: Please.
And that was the problem.
Mathew Barzal was very good at many things.
Hockey, making you laugh, and getting you to agree to things you absolutely should have said no to.
Especially when he used the word please.
Ten minutes later, you were climbing into his car, still wrapped in the hoodie you’d stolen from him weeks ago.
He looked over immediately. “You stole another one.”
You looked down at yourself innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That is literally my hoodie.”
“You have no proof."
He laughed quietly, shaking his head as he pulled away from the curb.
“You know, most people ask before they take things.”
“You know, most people don’t leave their hoodies around me if they want them back.”
“That sounds like a me problem.”
“It is.”
He glanced at you, a small smile appearing on his face.
And that was the thing about him.
Everyone saw the hockey player, the skill, the speed, and the confidence.
But you got this version, the one who showed up after midnight just because he wanted to drive around, the one who always smiled when he saw you wearing his clothes, and the one who never seemed in a rush to say goodbye.
“So,” you said, settling back into the passenger seat. “Where exactly are we going?”
He shrugged. “Nowhere.”
You looked at him.
“Mat.”
“What?”
“You picked me up at midnight, and you don’t have a destination?”
“That’s the point.”
You narrowed your eyes. “That sounds suspicious.”
“It’s not suspicious.”
“It’s a little suspicious.”
He laughed. “It’s just a drive.”
“A random drive?”
“A late night drive.”
“You realise that doesn’t make it less suspicious?”
He smiled. “You came anyway.”
You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it, because unfortunately he was right.
The city looked different at night, the streets quieter, the lights blurred against the windows, and everything felt slower.
Like the entire world had gone to sleep and you were the only two people still awake.
Music played softly through the speakers.
You didn’t even realise how much time had passed until he reached over and took your hand, his fingers slipping between yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You looked down at your hands. “You’re driving with one hand.”
“I do that all the time.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“It’s fine.”
“Matty.”
He laughed. “You sound like my mom.”
“That should concern you.”
“It does.”
You smiled, squeezing his hand slightly.
The conversation drifted easily.
That was your favourite thing about nights like this.
There was no pressure.
Just the two of you talking about anything and everything.
Eventually, he glanced over. “You’re thinking too loudly.”
You frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“I can tell.”
“You can tell I’m thinking?”
“Yes.”
“That’s terrifying.”
He smiled. “You always get quiet when you’re thinking.”
You looked out the window for a moment. “You know, sometimes I forget you actually pay attention.”
His smile softened slightly. “I always pay attention.”
The answer was simple, but somehow, it meant everything.
A few minutes later, he pulled into a gas station.
You looked at him. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“We drove around for forty minutes just to end up here?”
He looked offended. “Gas stations have good snacks.”
“They really don’t.”
“They do.”
“You are about to prove my point.”
He ignored you, getting out of the car as you followed him inside.
And, unsurprisingly, he immediately grabbed more things than either of you needed.
You watched him put another bag of sweets into the basket.
“Mathew.”
“What?”
“We are two people.”
“I know.”
“Then why do we have enough snacks for six?”
He looked down at the basket, then shrugged. “You never know.”
You laughed. “You say that like we’re preparing for a storm.”
“We might get hungry.”
“We are getting ice cream.”
“And?”
“And you bought crisps, chocolate, cookies, and two different drinks.”
He nodded seriously. “Options.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love me.”
You smiled. “Unfortunately.”
He grinned. “Good.”
Back in the car, you sat in the parking lot eating ice cream straight from the tubs, because apparently neither of you had the energy to wait until you got home.
He looked over at you.
“What?”
“You’re judging me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He smiled. “You have ice cream on your face.”
You immediately wiped your cheek. “Where?”
He laughed. “The other side.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You could have just told me.”
“I wanted to see what you’d do.”
“That’s mean.”
“It was funny.”
You shook your head, but you were smiling.
Eventually, the conversation slowed as the music played quietly.
The city continued moving outside the window, and for a while neither of you said anything.
You leaned back against the seat, looking over at him. “You know what I like about this.”
He glanced over. “What?”
“This.”
He smiled slightly. “That’s very specific.”
You laughed. “I mean… this. Just driving around. Getting snacks. Doing nothing.”
His expression softened. “Yeah.”
“I like that we don’t have to do anything special.”
A moment passed, then he nodded. “I think that’s my favourite part too.”
You looked at him. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
His fingers found yours again. “Because with hockey, everything is always something.” You listened quietly. “Games. Training. Travel. Expectations.” He looked down at your hands. “But this is just us.”
Your heart softened. “Just us.”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
Eventually, he drove you back home, but neither of you moved when he parked outside your apartment.
You both just sat there.
The engine was still running, and the music played quietly in the background.
You looked over at him. “We should probably go inside.”
“Probably.”
Neither of you moved, though.
You laughed softly. “You’re terrible at saying goodbye.”
He smiled. “Only with you.”
Your smile grew. “Same time next week?”
He looked at you like the answer was obvious. “Obviously.”
And somehow, you knew there would be.
Because maybe the best moments weren’t always the big ones.
Maybe they were the ones where nothing happened.
Just you.
Him.
And a late night drive with enough snacks to feed six people.
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warnings/tags mdni 18+. childhoodbestie!reader. rafe in his prime frat era. raw/p in v. dirty talk. rafe being "mean". fingering (?)
it had been weeks since you seen each other. starting freshman year, not really caring about the absence in each others lives as they built their ever-growing social statuses.
it was your forth house of the night, stumbling into the packed home with too many bodies. you crashed into your friends back, chuckling tipsy under your breath. “ho-ly shit.” another said, eyes wide and examining the large crowd.
bodies, bodies, bodies, rafe cameron, bodies- “rafe cameron?” you asked, getting both of your friends attention before walking off. “oh, shes gone.”
you had a smirk on your lined upper lip, waterlines tight with black and silver eyeshadow on your lids. “fancy seeing you here,” he recognized your voice immediately. turning around with a small smirk on his lips, his hands still in his pockets- fearing what he might do if he pulled them out.
he didnt want to speak, trying to keep his smile from growing while you took a step forward and put your chest to his, looking up at him through your eyelashes. he caved immediately, wrapping his arms around your head and holding you tight. your manicured nails scratched his back through the sweatshirt material.
after being recognized as the “infamous bestie” rafe turned so his back was to them again. “so heres the thing…” he said softly, “i havent had sex since we last did, i have a raging boner…” admitting as if it was no big deal.
“and my bedroom is upstairs.”
the door slammed hard enough for the walls to shake, your bag dropping from your shoulder. he had you pressed against the wood, one leg rose to his thigh, arm holding him up beside your head.
his tongue was vulgar inside your mouth, dropping your thigh and unzipping your jacket. you slid it from your shoulders and let it fall to the floor- using his arms as a brace to pull your boots off.
you pushed him backwards, his knees hitting the edge of his bed while he fell back. you were on him the next second, hips straddling his and grinding gently.
his cold fingers pulled your shirt up, tugging it past your chin and letting it fall off the side of the bed. it was messy and clumsy, rafe ended up completely naked besides his backward baseball cap and nike crew socks.
his thighs were pressed to the side of the bed, flipping your legs and pulling you to him. stomach facing down, arms stretched wide, he gave no warning before aligning himself and bottoming out inside you.
pushing up on your hands, he leaned forward and wrapped a hand under your chin- keeping you with your back bent. he pushed your hips down with his other, hearing the clap of his balls against you. a string of vulgar curses flew past your clenched teeth, rafe letting your chin go while you dropped forward.
he held under your thigh, lifting it up on the mattress before dipping lower. “have you been fuckin’ someone else?” you asked out of breath, gasping dramatically when he stretched you out. “the fuck are you talking about?” he asked as if he was offended.
“i told you,” another deep thrust. “i havent fucked anyone since last time we did.” he knocked his head backwards. not liking the lack of reaction he was getting from you. “alright, then fuck me like you mean it, damn.” throwing a hand in the air before throwing your head down and felt his thrusts stop altogether.
“what? you want me to be mean?” he asked and your skin grew hot. “i can be mean,” he palmed your ass cheek, spreading it before sliding into you slowly again. “ive never been mean to you before, though.” he almost pouted, leaning forward with a large hand held on the side of your head.
you swatted it away, him somehow snatching your wrist above your head and flipping your hips so you were on your back- and his hips were touching your ass and his breath was sharing with yours, his eyes locked into yours.
he kissed your lips gently, pushing his body up slowly before fixing the hat on his head. his abs flexed, still inside you while he lifted both of your legs. your feet were on either side of his head, arms wrapped tight around your knees, and his thrusts became so intoxicating your moans turned utterly silent.
“fuck, baby-“ a recurring phrase before he dropped your legs off to the side and was on top of you. an arm holding him up and another under yours and holding the side of your face, his thumb finding a place in your mouth. his hips didnt falter, “i missed this pussy, fuck.” speaking to the back of your head through clenched teeth.
this was different. no longer learning about each others bodies, teaching themselves about the act itself. this was using that knowledge, doing what he knows best and that is pleasuring you.
he slowly pulled out of you, his tip staying inside. he felt you slowly clench around him, “you fuckin’ anyone else right now?” his voice was low, fingers digging hard in your hip. “put it back in.” was your answer.
“answer my question,” speaking so quietly in your ear goosebumps rose on your skin. “yeah” a short answer, one he was forced to respect.
his hips thrusted slowly inside you, a full motion before his head was left again. “it serious?” he asked, pushing your hair away from your neck while his lips kissed your shoulder. “not really,” another slow thrust leaving your toes curling.
he kept his movements at that slow pace, aganozing and hitting all the right places that makes your throat swell. “has he made you finish?” another question either of you would never dare bring up after this. your lips creeped into a smile, shutting your eyes and face heating up.
“thats okay, baby- ill take care of you.” he purred before getting you to your back again. one leg cocked to the side and the other up on his shoulder.
he sunk into you, hearing the wet sounds while his features contorted into this beautiful look of euphoria. it was the way he looked, the way his hips rolled into yours, how he took his time and kissed the inside of your foot.
it was when you pushed your fingers between your legs, getting a dramatic gasp from him. he swatted your hand away, holding his knee on the mattress to hold your thigh open before putting his palm on your stomach and thumb finding your clit immediately.
you slowly laid back down, his thumb flicking it ever so gently and watching with hooded eyes as you gave him complete control over your body. keeping your arms above your head, leg still up on his shoulder and hip held open. but you were totally limp.
a fucked-out smile on your lips and eyes comfortably shut. tits bouncing with every thrust. “doesnt seem like you hate me-“
“jesus christ.” huffing under his breath before pulling out of you and putting you in your original position- legs over the bed, arms stretched on the mattress. bent over and trapped under him.
he gave no warning when driving into you, hand coming forward and palming the back of your head before tangling your hair in a fist.
he pushed on your hips again, forcing your ass higher. “fuck, rafe. oh my god,” you cried while pushing up on your toes. “oh my god,” repeating over and over. you suddenly held your breath, rafe knowing it all too well while he smirked- going to play the ultimate card.
he kept his pace, not daring to change his position. lips parting while your moans grew louder and longer and they soon turned into a song. “good god rafe, fuck.” you chirped, digging your head in his blankets while he felt your body tense up.
“you gonna cum for me?” he asked in a whiny voice, that alone driving you over the edge while he felt your legs start to tremble. “good girl” and a hand snaked around your throat and left a complete mess between your legs. jaw hanging open and tears rolling down your face, his hips stalled suddenly before pulling out of you.
steadying himself with his body weight pressed into your hips still, raging hard-on slapping against his stomach while he breath hitched.
“fuck,” he leaned down, kissing the side of your head. “was that mean enough for you?” he fell on the other side of you, turning your head to face him with tired eyes and a lazy grin on your face.
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Following the Hearts on Fire challenge and a mood-killing dinner party, you and Rafe secure your spot in the final four and head to the Hideaway
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, emotional distress, public judgement, explicit s3xual content
˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗
YOU’RE sitting at your vanity, adjusting your hair in the mirror while the girls around you are finishing up their morning routines. Sarah is dusting highlighter over her cheekbones, Cleo’s slicking her edges, Talia is touching up her lip gloss, and Rima is sitting somewhat aloof at the corner table, applying mascara with a look on her face that says she’d rather be anywhere else in the world.
Before anyone can dive into the conversations left over from yesterday, the door swings open.
"Breakfastttt for the prettiest girls in Fiji!" JJ’s loud voice travels across the room as the guys walk in carrying plates loaded with sliced fruit, pancakes, and eggs, iced coffees in their hands.
Rafe walks in right behind him, and the moment his eyes find yours, the stress of yesterday just melts away. He’s wearing sweatpants and a plain tee, looking fresh and clean as he carries a plate specifically customized with everything he knows you like.
"Mornin’, beautiful," Rafe murmurs, stepping past the other islanders to reach you. He sets your plate down, leans over, and cupping the back of your neck with a warm hand, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.
You can’t help the smile that tugs at your mouth against his as you move to wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him down a little closer. "Morning to you too.” You smile up at him softly. “You didn’t have to make all of this."
"Mhm. Wanted to," Rafe mutters into your ear, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. He kisses your cheek, then the tip of your nose. "How’d you sleep?"
"Good, considering I was next to you," you whisper back, pressing a sweet kiss to his collarbone.
Rafe lets out a soft, low chuckle, arms tightening around you for a second as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your perfume. You two are practically attached at the hip, lost in your own little world like you always are when you’re together. It’s your normal thing, unapologetic and over-the-top, but nobody even bothers to comment on it anymore because everyone knows you two are obsessed with each other.
Over on the daybed near the window, Cleo and Pope are doing the exact same thing. Pope gently sets down a plate of sliced mangoes and toast for her, giving her a kiss on the forehead while Cleo beams up at him, running her fingers over his forearm.
Sarah and Theo are sitting near one of the vanity mirrors, looking surprisingly okay. Theo hands Sarah her iced coffee, leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the lips as she smiles at him, her body language much more relaxed than it was last night after the challenge.
Talia and JJ are standing near the door, sharing a joke over a plate of bacon, their banter natural as JJ nudges her shoulder playfully, arm lingering around her waist a second longer than necessary.
The only dark cloud in the room is sitting over by the corner.
Justin walks in carrying a cup of coffee, nothing else, dropping it on the table near Rima without making eye contact.
"Thanks," Rima says, voice flat.
"Yeah," Justin replies dryly, barely glancing at her before turning around and walking right back out of the dressing room without another word.
The silence that follows his exit is suffocating, but as soon as the rest of the guys file out of the room—Rafe giving your ass a soft pat and a wink before he leaves—the dressing room door shuts, and the real conversation begins.
Cleo swivels her chair around, looking over at Sarah. "What happened with you and Theo last night?” She asks. “Because after the challenge, you literally dragged him away."
Sarah sighs, looking around at all of you. "I was just... I was really in my feelings about the way the public voted us. I’m not gonna lie, being voted 'Most Naive' hit me pretty hard."
“I don’t blame you," you say, leaning back in your chair. "I don’t think any of us would like hearing that..."
"Right?" Sarah nods, looking relieved that you validated her feelings. "It felt like the hardest slap in the face. The challenge was just so brutal because it forced everyone to be placed in a specific ranking even if it wasn't totally accurate to who we actually are. So I asked Theo to come talk because I wanted to know what he thought."
"And what did he say?" Talia asks, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.
"Well, at first, I felt terrible," Sarah admits, chewing on her lower lip. "Because I realize now that I kind of came at him a little bit…crazy? I was asking him why the public would think those things about us, lowkey I was blaming him. But Theo was so calm about it. He told me straight up that he hasn't done anything since we coupled up for the public to have that opinion, but that there are couples in here—like you and Rafe, or Cleo and Pope—” She eyes you and Cleo. “who have been established longer and might have a stronger connection."
"That actually makes a lot of sense," Cleo points out, nodding thoughtfully.
"He reassured me so much.” Sarah sighs. “He told me that public opinion is just that—an opinion. Not everyone is going to see things the same way, and at the end of the day, the only two people who know what’s going on between us are him and me. I just have to trust him."
"And do you?" you ask gently, watching her face.
Sarah smiles, a warm look entering her eyes. "I do.” She nods once. “He hasn't done anything to misplace my trust. I realized last night that I was just letting my past insecurities project onto him. Between everything that happened with John B and Topper... I’m just scared. But I’m really trying not to push those old wounds onto Theo."
"Sarah, that is honestly so mature of you," Cleo says.
"Seriously," Talia adds, smiling at her. "You should be really proud of yourself. You’re not letting what John B and Topper put you through ruin something genuinely good. Theo really seems to adore you. We can all see how into you he is."
Sarah blushes, looking down at her lap. "That really means a lot."
Then, the attention in the room shifts as the topic turns to the huge elephant in the room.
Sarah turns her head toward the corner of the room. "Rima... what about you and Justin?” She inquires carefully. “What happened after the challenge last night? Did you guys even sleep in the same bed? Because you definitely didn't wake up together this morning..."
Rima takes a slow breath, setting her mascara tube down on the counter. She looks exhausted, but there's a hard edge in her eyes.
"Yeah, we slept in the same bed," she says, voice smooth and unbothered. "I just woke up early because I wanted to get out of that bed and away from him as fast as humanly possible."
"So…I’m guessing you guys aren’t okay?" Talia asks softly.
"No," Rima says bluntly, shaking her head. "I honestly don't even know where I stand with Justin right now, but more than that... I don't think he's serious about me at all.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes to the back of her head. “I was lying awake last night thinking about everything, and his excuses for not wanting to put a label on us make zero sense."
"Literally zero," you agree, frowning.
"Like," Rima starts, crossing her legs. "We dated in the real world before this! He knows who I am, I know who he is, we know each other's families for fuck’s sake. There is no reason for us to be holding back or acting like we need some 'experimental stage’. He’s just making excuses to keep his options open." She pauses, looking around at the four of you. "...I'm thinking about my self-respect and my self-worth.” She huffs, “And honestly? I think it's just time to end things with Justin."
The room goes quiet for a second before Cleo nods. "I agree with you.” She shrugs sympathetically. “It feels like he’s just draggin’ his feet, and you deserve someone who’s sure about you."
"It's just..." Sarah speaks up, her eyes narrow with concern. "It's so late in the game now. We're so close to the final. If you break things off with Justin... who else is there for you to explore in here?"
Rima’s face turns serious and she looks Sarah in the eye.
"No one."
Talia blinks. "...What d’you mean?"
"I mean there is literally no one else in this villa for me to explore," Rima explains calmly, counting on her fingers. "JJ is cute, but let's be real, he’s not my type and he’s really into you.” She tells Talia before continuing. “Pope has tunnel vision for Cleo, and even though he’s handsome, we were never a romantic match. Rafe..." Rima looks over at you with a small, respectful smile. "I see Rafe as a brother at this point. Trying to get between Rafe and you would be an otherworldly task that I wouldn't even attempt if my life depended on it. And Theo just isn't my type.” She shrugs, fixing you all with a tight-lipped smile. “I have no desire to throw a wrench into anything any of you girls have going on."
"So... what are you going to do?" you ask, feeling a pang of sympathy for her.
Rima just shrugs her shoulders. "I guess I’ll just accept my fate at this point.” She laughs humorlessly. “There’s no point in trying to force anything on a love show when there’s clearly no love around here for me."
All of you immediately start groaning and offering your condolences, saying how unfair it is and how much it sucks, but Rima holds up a hand, stopping the pity party before it can even start. She isn't mean about it, just blunt.
"Guys, please, I really don't want the pity," Rima says with a slight laugh. "It’s not the end of the world. Just because things didn't work out with Justin in here doesn't mean they never will with someone else.” She says optimistically. “There are millions of men in the world. My person just isn't in Fiji right now, and that’s fine. But what I’m not going to do is throw my self-respect in the trash for a guy who can't even put his ego or his desire for other women aside for me.” She snarls. “...There's no point living like that, and I won't."
"Fair fucking play," Talia praises, nodding with her lips pursed.
"I hate that it has to be this way for you," Cleo says, walking over to wrap an arm around Rima’s shoulders. "But no matter what happens, we were all so lucky to meet each other. And at least when we leave this place, we’ll still be the girls."
"Always," you say, reaching out to squeeze Rima’s hand.
LATER that afternoon, you’re lounging on the daybeds with Rafe. The heat is a humid kind of hot, but you couldn't care less because you’re draped over his side. Rafe has one arm wrapped around your waist, his hand resting on your hip, pulling you against him while his other hand plays lazily with your hair, twirling a strand around his finger, fascinated.
"So when we get out of here," Rafe is saying, voice low as he stares up at the sky, "where are we going? Like, if you could go anywhere in the world that you haven't been yet, where's your dream spot?"
You blink up at him, thinking for a second. "...I've always wanted to do a cute little trip to Savannah, Georgia.” You shrug. “Or maybe Hawaii. Hawaii would be nice."
Rafe lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head against your hair. "Angel, I mean, I'll take you there if that's what you want, but I was thinkin’ bigger. I wanna take you somewhere really special once this whole thing is over."
"What do you mean 'bigger'?" you ask laughing, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Like out of the country," Rafe smirks, fingers lightly tracing patterns over your hip.
"Oh," you smile, mind racing. "Well... Bora Bora has always been on my bucket list, if we're talking tropical. But if I'm being super honest, my dream dream spots are definitely Japan and South Korea. I've wanted to go there forever."
Rafe's smirk widens, a glint in his eyes as he looks down at you. "Japan and Korea, huh?” He says, and you nod. “Noted."
You laugh softly, wiggling slightly against him. "Okay, Mr. Man, I’m gonna go get some water."
Rafe tightens his grip on your hip, stopping you from moving. "I’ll get it for you. Stay here."
"It’s fine," you say, laughing as you push his chest lightly. "I have legs, I can walk twenty feet to the kitchen."
"I can get it," he insists, staring at you. "You don't need to get up."
"Rafe, seriously, it’s fine," you smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek before wiggling out of his grip. "I’ll be right back, I promise."
He grumbles playfully, watching you with hawkish eyes as you stand up and start walking toward the kitchen area.
Your feet hit the tile and you shiver, unscrewing the lid of your water bottle and filling it up at the fridge. As you turn around, you almost bump right into Theo, who was walking up to the counter with an empty bottle as well.
"Oh! Sorry," you say, stepping back.
"No, that’s my bad," he says quickly, taking a step back to allow you space.
An awkwardness falls over the space between you two and you both just kind of stand there for a second, shifting your weight and avoiding eye contact. You realize then that you haven't really talked to Theo one-on-one since all the drama of Casa Amor and Movie Night. It was kind of hard to ignore the fact that, at some point in time, you two were close, exploring a connection before you chose Rafe. And, even though you cleared the air, the tension of what used to be apparently still hung in the air.
"Hot day out," you offer, trying to make small talk.
"Yeah. Very hot," Theo replies, filling his bottle at the tap.
Silence stretches again, cloudy and uncomfortable. But just as you’re about to give him a polite nod and walk back outside, Theo clears his throat.
"Hey..."
You stop, turning back to look at him. "Yeah?"
Theo sets his bottle down on the counter and rubs the back of his neck, looking down at his feet before meeting your eyes. "I just... I want to say I'm really sorry."
You blink, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I want to apologize. Again, I guess. For everything that went down. All the drama."
You wave a hand dismissively, trying to keep it light. "Oh, it's fine. Seriously, we already—you don't need to—"
"No, hear me out," Theo cuts in gently, taking a step closer, his expression earnest. "I know we cleared the air, but honestly I felt like my apologies at the time weren't very…genuine?” He winces, shrugging one shoulder. “I was defensive, and I didn't really get it. But I do now."
You quiet down, listening to him.
"Being with Sarah..." Theo continues softly, a reflective look in his eyes. "Knowing what a real, deep connection feels like between both people... it made me realize how hard things must have been for you. I didn't understand it before. I couldn't grasp why it was so difficult for you to make a choice between me and him.” He admits, chewing the inside of his cheek. “But now that I have these feelings for Sarah, I realize that if I were put in a position where I had to choose between her and another girl I cared about... it would probably break me."
He pauses, looking at you with a newfound respect. "I just wanted to tell you that you made the right decision.” He comes back to reality, nodding. “Seeing you with Rafe now, seeing how happy he makes you and how good you two are together... I know in my heart I could have never made you that happy.” He sighs. “I understand it now, and I’m sorry for making it harder on you than it needed to be."
A warmth spreads through your chest at his words. You look at Theo, seeing the sincerity in his face.
"...Thank you," you say softly, a genuine smile forming on your lips. "I appreciate that. And I am so happy that you and Sarah found your way to each other. She's been through hell with guys in here, and she deserves someone who genuinely sees her. Just..." You pause, raising an eyebrow at him teasingly, though your tone carries a real warning. "Just promise me one thing."
"Anything," Theo says.
"...Don't do to Sarah what we did to each other," you say firmly. "Don't hide who you are or lead her on. I know that even though I didn't mean to lead you on back then, I still kind of did because deep down…I always knew I was going to choose Rafe.” You say pitifully, tilting your head. “So just... be honest with her."
Theo nods slowly, taking your words to heart. "I promise."
"Good," you smile. You step forward, wrapping your arms around his neck for a brief, genuine hug. Theo hugs you back, closing that door of awkwardness between you for the last time before you walk back out to the daybeds, clutching your cold water bottle, and sit back down next to Rafe.
And the second you sit down, Rafe’s eyes are on you. He leans in, pulling you back into his side, but his jaw is slightly tight.
"What was that about?" he asks casually, though you know him far too well—he was watching you and Theo the entire time.
"Just clearing the air," you say, taking a sip of water before looking up at him. "He gave me an apology for everything that happened. He said now that he's with Sarah, he understands why it was so hard for me after Casa, and he told me I made the right choice by picking you."
Rafe’s tense posture visibly melts. A small, proud smirk touches his lips. "Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well... good.” He smiles, sort of shocked as he leans back. “That's great, honestly. Good on him."
"Right?" You smile, resting your head on Rafe’s shoulder. "I’m really proud of how much all of us have grown in here."
"Me too," Rafe mutters, kissing the top of your head. "...Do you think they’ll actually make it on the outside? Sarah and Theo?"
"I think so," you ponder softly. "As long as Sarah doesn't let her past trauma from John B and Topper get in the way and as long as Theo stays honest. She’s really trying, though. They both are."
"Yeah, Theo talked to us guys the other day," Rafe adds, voice thoughtful. "Told us the reason he used to ghost girls so much was because he couldn't handle other people's emotions, said he was brought up believing that showing emotion made you weak, so he just shut down and ran whenever things got real. And I felt bad, because I know the feeling.” Rafe sighed, hands rubbing up and down your frame. “But he’s changing. I think he and Sarah have a real shot."
Before you can respond, loud footsteps thump against the grass.
"You! I need you," JJ comes sprinting up to the daybed, out of breath, looking wildly around like he’s being hunted as he grabs your arm. "Sorry, Rafe, but I need to steal your girl right now."
Rafe immediately scowls. “No.” He mutters, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist like a jealous toddler. "Why? Go away, JJ—"
"Bro, I swear, it's an emergency," JJ panics, tugging on your wrist. "Trust me."
Rafe lets out a dramatic, childish grumble, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly lets you go. "Fine. Two minutes, Maybank, or I'm comin’ to find you."
You laugh as JJ practically drags you around the side of the villa, out of view of everyone else. And once you're out of earshot of the others, JJ stops, pacing back and forth, running both hands through his blonde hair.
"JJ, what’s going on?" you ask, leaning against the wall. "Why are you panicking?"
JJ drops his voice to a harsh whisper as he huffs, nostrils flaring before looking at you. “Look, I was talking to Talia, right?”
“Right…”
“And everything was going okay but then I got super nervous—”
“Okay. Why—”
“Just— listen, please.”
“I am.” You rolled your eyes.
JJ huffs again, closing his eyes this time before opening them again. "She tried to…do stuff with me. Last night."
You raise your eyebrows. "Oh?” You say, shocked. “Well... did you—"
"No!" JJ yells softly, throwing his hands in the air.
“Why’re you yelling at me?”
“I’m sorry, alright?” He drops his shoulders, sighing deeply. "But, no, I didn't. And that’s why I'm freakin’ out!"
You blink, confused. "... You’re panicking because you didn't sleep with Talia last night—"
"Yes!" JJ stresses, looking at you like you have two heads. "That is not… normal for me!"
"What do you mean that's not ‘normal’ for you?" JJ groans, pacing again as he throws his head back. “Look you pulled me away from Rafe to pace in front of me and I’m pretty sure that he was serious about those two minutes so you better tell me something—”
“If a gorgeous girl opens herself up to you, you don't say no!” He throws his hands out. “You just don't! But last night, she was kissin’ on me and shit , and I literally pulled back and said no!” He berated himself, shaking his head with his face in his palms. “I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me…"
But despite his own shame, a proud grin spreads across your face as you stare at him.
JJ stops pacing at your silence, glaring at you through the gaps in his fingers before dropping his hands completely. "...What the hell are you smilin’ like that for?"
"Because,” you shrug. “You're growing!" you beam, shaking his shoulders.
JJ looks down at his feet, bewildered. "What do you mean growin’? I've been five-eleven my whole life—"
"No, dumbass,” you laugh out loud, slapping his shoulder. “Like, emotionally. You're maturing!"
JJ freezes, straightening before your eyes, eyebrows pinched in confusion. "Wait... really?"
"Yes." you say, shaking your head in amazement. "JJ, you just turned down a girl for sex. That’s growth!” You smiled, clasping your hands together, bouncing on your feet. “You literally told me in the car when we first got here that you would never do that, and you just did!"
JJ scratches his head, staring at the ground as the realization sinks in. "I... I didn't even think about it like that."
"Well, think about it now," you nudge him softly. "Tell me. Why did you say no to her?"
"Uh, I don't know..." he mutters defensively.
"You do know," you press gently. "Spit it out, Maybank."
JJ sighs heavily, looking unusually vulnerable. "I don't know, man—”
“Don’t call me ‘man’.”
“Sorry.” He sighs, slumping where he stood. “I just... I didn't want to do it and make the same stupid mistake I made in Casa. I slept with Haja and then found out she was playing games with me, and it felt like shit. With Talia... I like her.” He says honestly. “And I didn't want to give her the wrong impression and make her think I only want her for her body or somethin’."
"...Awwww—"
"Don't 'aww' me!" JJ snaps, cheeks flushing bright red as he glares at you. "I have a reputation to uphold here!"
"Yeah, a shitty one,” you scoff. “This is such an 'aww' moment!" you squeal. "JJ, I’m proud of you! That is so sweet, and I can almost guarantee Talia is going to respect you so much more for it."
"...Y’think so?" JJ asks nervously, chewing on his lip. "What if she thinks I’m not, like, attracted to her or somethin’?"
"I highly doubt that," you laugh. "But even if she has doubts, I know the truth now, so I’ll speak on your behalf if I need to."
But before JJ can reply, the loud and familiar chime of a text echoes through the villa.
It’s yours. You pull it out, reading the screen, and your eyes widen as everyone finds you and JJ, making their way over as you read the text aloud.
"Islanders, it's time to find out who turns up the heat and who cools things down. Today, you will all take part in the iconic challenge... HEARTS ON FIRE! #PulseRacer #TurnUpTheHeat"
"Oh my fucking—" you scream, jumping up and down on your tiptoes as screams erupt from the rest of the villa, the girls shrieking with excitement, also jumping up and down, practically bouncing off the walls.
"I was getting scared that we weren’t going to get to do it!" Sarah yells, clutching Cleo's hands.
Rafe walks up to you, seeing you jumping up and down before trying to place his hands on you somewhere. "Whoa, whoa," he says, grabbing your waist to turn and steady you, looking thoroughly confused. "What is this?"
You look up at him, a dangerous smirk plastered on your face as you look him up and down. "Oh... you just fucking wait."
Rafe narrows his eyes, grip on your waist tightening. What does that mean?” He raises an eyebrow. “You sound way too excited."
You lean up on your tiptoes, bringing your lips right against the shell of his ear, whispering, "It means I’m about to show you what you’re dealing with."
You pull back, giving his jaw a slow kiss before whipping around and sprinting off toward the dressing room with the rest of the screaming girls, leaving Rafe and the guys standing in the middle of the yard, stunned and visibly shifting where he stood.
INSIDE the dressing room, a clothing rack has been brought in, draped with at least a dozen costumes to choose from. You and the girls are practically tearing the garments from the rack, hyping each other up as you choose your outfits.
Sarah picks this Golden Angel costume—a metallic gold lingerie set with sheer mesh cutouts, gold body chains draping over her hips, a feather halo, and ethereal golden wings. It fits her perfectly, and she looks like a literal ball of sunshine—pure, bright, and adorable, yet undeniably sexy.
Cleo went down the line before deciding on the Pirate costume. It was a deep maroon leather bustier that pushed her chest up accompanied by a high-slitted lace skirt showing off her toned legs, thigh-high black boots, and a playful mini prop whip. She looked fierce and dangerous.
Talia settles on the Lifeguard outfit, though you doubted anyone could’ve pulled off such a simple costume as much as she did. A high-cut, halfway-unzipped red latex bodysuit that left very little to the imagination, complete with a whistle around her neck, and she completed the look herself by styling her hair into wet-look beach waves, and a tiny red rescue buoy on her hip.
Rima tried on a few before going with a Crimson Devil costume. It was a set that was put together by a crimson lace corset, red devil horns, a flowing velvet cape, and a leather pitchfork. And the deep red against her skin was drop-dead gorgeous as she twirled, showing it off to all the girls.
And then you finally get settled into yours — a Showgirl. You look at yourself in the mirror as you step out of the bathroom, admiring the rhinestone-encrusted corset that catches every angle of light, a trailing feather bustle that flows behind you, silk opera gloves reaching up your forearms, and thigh-high glitter boots.
It gives you a cutesy yet highly theatrical vibe — sexy, glamorous, flirty.
"Hoooly shit," Cleo fawns, looking at you as you adjust the corset. "You look good.”
"You look insane!" Sarah yells, slapping your ass as you do a quick turn as she passes behind you.
"I love the corset!" Talia hypes.
“We all look good,” You turn around, looking all of the women up and down. “The boys might actually die tonight.” You giggle.
"Okay, but wait," Sarah says, adjusting her halo. "What if we raise the wrong guys' heart rates?” She says carefully, biting her lips. “We have to promise that nobody gets offended!"
Talia laughs, throwing her hands up. "I promise!"
"Yeah, ‘course, it's just a game," Cleo agrees, shrugging as she fixes her curls.
You look in the mirror, adjusting your opera gloves, and scoff playfully. "Hell no. If Rafe’s heart gets raised the most by any of you, I’m gonna beat his ass."
The girls burst into hysterical laughter as you fight the smile on your own face, letting a small laugh escape. You were joking. Somewhat.
"At least you said you'd beat his ass and not ours!" Rima jokes, tossing her cape over her shoulder.
MEANWHILE, in the bedroom, the guys were putting on their own outfits.
Theo’s dressed as an Italian Mob Don, adorned in tailored black trousers, an unbuttoned pinstripe vest with no shirt underneath showing off his chest with thick gold chains, his dirty blonde curls slicked back.
Pope found a Sexy Surgeon costume that threw him dangerously fitted navy scrubs unbuttoned all the way down, a stethoscope draped around his neck, and a loose white lab coat hanging off his shoulders. And he looked damn good.
JJ managed to put together a Cowboy costume—leather chaps over dark denim, an open leather vest with no shirt, a classic Stetson cowboy hat, and a lasso hanging from his hip with a bandana around his neck.
Justin had shoved himself into a Top Gun Aviator costume with a fitted olive green flight suit unzipped past his sternum, silver dog tags, and dark aviator sunglasses.
And Rafe... Rafe is dressed as some kind of CEO or spy? Or both? Either way, he’s managed to make it look sexy as ever.
He has on pitch-black tailored suit pants, a white dress shirt that is unbuttoned to his sternum with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a black leather body harness fitted tightly across his chest with a shoulder holster.
And he somehow looks ridiculously and dangerously attractive.
While the other guys are hype, knowing how the challenge works and what it is, Rafe is visibly stressed.
"...What the fuck is this?" Rafe grumbles, tugging at the leather harness across his chest. "And why are we dressed like strippers?"
JJ laughs, adjusting his cowboy hat and clapping Rafe on the back. "Because we are strippers. For like the next hour, anyway. We gotta dance for the ladies!"
Rafe’s head snaps toward JJ, eyebrows pulling together in horror. "What do you mean, dance?” He hisses.
“Don’t listen to JJ. We are not strippers,” Pope sighs, glaring at the blonde. “And we don’t have to dance. We just have to go out and dance for the girls to raise their heartbeats…okay, maybe we are strippers—”
“Wait, wait,” Rafe waves his hands. “What happens if we raise the wrong person's heartbeat? Do the girls dance too? What if they raise the wrong heartbeats?"
"Awww, are you worried your heart is gonna get raised by someone other than—" Theo starts, teasing with a smirk.
"No," Rafe narrows his blue eyes. "I'm worried about what happens if one of you motherfuckers raises her heartbeat higher than me." The guys laugh, but Rafe is dead serious. He glares at all of them. "I swear to God, I will kill every single one of you."
Over in the corner, Pope is adjusting his stethoscope. "Well, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.” He shrugs. “I don't know how to be sexy. I've been workin’ out, I got the abs, but I don't have the coordination to be grinding on women." He laughs, though it’s soft and uncertain.
JJ steps up, placing both hands on Pope's shoulders from behind. "Pope, bro. Listen to me. It's all about confidence. Grab the energy of the sexiest man you know and wield it, like a sword, y’know."
Pope blinks. "Who? You—"
“Rafe.” JJ cuts in, voice overlapping Pope’s as the entire room then goes silent.
Justin, Theo, and Rafe all raise their eyebrows, staring at JJ in disbelief and bewilderment. And Rafe is trying to play all disturbed and unamused but he can’t help the light laugh that escapes him as he shakes his head, still messing with the harness across his body.
But before anyone can even attempt to continue the conversation, a text comes through.
"Boys, please make your way down to the fire pit and await the girls."
WHEN the guys file down to the fire pit, they’re each equipped with a heart rate monitor strapped to their wrists before settling around the fire pit. They wait anxiously, feet bouncing before the speakers around them begin to thud with the bass-heavy pop beat of NOBLE by F3miii. It startles them enough to where some of them flinch before the sound of heels clacking in the distance catches their attention.
The first girl to step out is Sarah, walking out in her angel costume, the metallic gold adornments glimmering as she struts down the makeshift runway, flipping her hair, giving cute, flirty winks to all the guys. Sarah struts down the runway, swaying her hips while twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her finger. She stops right in front of the line, winking at the guys with a smirk. She starts giving everyone a quick tease—bending over in front of JJ, shaking her ass slightly on Pope, modeling in front of Justin—but when she reaches Theo, she goes all out. She climbs right into his lap, straddling his waist before pressing a passionate kiss to his lips. Theo eats it up, hands gripping her waist as he slides his tongue between her lips.
His hands dig bruises into Sarah's waist, pulling her body against his as she straddles his lap. The friction of her hips grinding hard against his draws a muffled groan from his throat. Her chest is flushed pink with sweat, teeth lightly grazing his bottom lip before diving into a sloppy, deep kiss, the sound of their tongues tangling echoing over the music. Theo growls, fingers clawing at her hip bones as they break apart panting, both of their lips swollen, slick with saliva, and gasping for air.
As Sarah moves down to the end of the line, she reaches Rafe. She looks at his stone-cold face, laughs, and playfully waves her hand at him. "There's no point in even trying with you," she jokes.
Rafe actually breaks character and laughs, nodding.
After her is Cleo, stepping in her Pirate outfit as she works her body down the line. Cleo walks out, dropping into a low twerk right at the start of the runway, her skirt fluttering as she shakes her ass to the beat. She pops back up with a smirk, snapping her mini whip against her thigh.
"Arrr you ready to be hijacked, boys? Because I'm here to steal all your hearts," she purrs, winking as the guys cheer and laugh at the corny line. Surprisingly, she gives all of the boys quite a show. She shakes her ass on JJ who catches on, palming at her skin before she moves to give Pope a show—using her mini whip to gently pull him in, straddling his lap and grinding against him while running her hands through his coils. She grabs Pope by his navy scrubs, yanking him up out of his seat.
The guys hoot and holler as Cleo turns around and drops low, twerking against Pope's thighs, her hands planted on her knees as Pope's jaw drops, throat bobbing as he grips her hips. She suddenly spins, jumps up and wraps her legs around his waist, locking her mouth onto his in a heated, hungry make-out that leaves Pope stumbling back when she’s done with him.
Once she’s done with Pope, she slides off of him, leaving the boy’s lip swollen and eyes blown before moving to give Theo a sultry tease, pulling him in and licking a strip from his collarbone all the way up to his ear. But when she gets to Justin, she dismisses him, just winking snarkily and walking right past him without touching him. When she gets to Rafe, she gives him a little attention as well—grinding on him slightly, running her hand through his buzzcut before running a finger under his chin and walking off.
And the music continues as Cleo rounds the corner and another pair of heels sounds out, all the boys turning as you step out.
The moment you walk into the light of the fire pit in your rhinestone corset, feather bustle, and glitter boots, Rafe immediately shifts in his seat.
JJ mutters next to him, glancing over, eyes flickering from Rafe’s lap to his face. "Bro... try to hide the boner, please."
"Shut the fuck up," Rafe growls under his breath, burning and blown out eyes completely locked on you.
You give the boys a show as you walk down the line, playing up your cutesy showgirl persona. Your rhinestone corset catches the light of the fire pit, sparkling with every sexy sway of your hips, the trailing feather bustle flowing behind you as you strut out like a dream. You stop in front of the men, fanning yourself playfully. "Welcome to the main event, boys... hope you're ready for the show of a lifetime," you tease, holding back a laugh before giving a slow wink. You drop low in front of JJ, giving him a heavy-lidded look while running your gloved hands up your own thighs. You tease Pope, bending over so your bust is practically in his face before moving to trace a single feather up Theo's chest and give Justin the feeling of a tease before leaving him hanging—all while throwing filthy glances over your shoulder at Rafe to drive him insane.
But when you reach Rafe... all bets are off.
You straddle his lap backwards, craning your neck back to look at him and Rafe doesn't even wait, one hand flying straight to your hips as the other loosely holds the base of your neck, just enough to feel something as he grips you, pulling you down against him.
Your hands reach around and manage to cradle his jaw and neck, clawing at him really as you lean in, kissing him messily and passionately, right there in front of everyone. Rafe groans into the kiss, hands roaming over your waist and back, gripping the corset and your skin like he’s trying to merge your bodies together.
The rest of the guys whistle and cheer Rafe on as the kiss turns feral, the man groaning into your mouth, teeth catching and biting down hard on your lower lip, sending a jolt down your spine. His rough hands slide down from your waist, clawing desperately at the bare skin of your upper thighs before his fingers drag dangerously high, brushing against the fabric of your showgirl bottoms where you're already soaking wet for him. It almost makes you lose your mind.
Confessional : You
"I had to pull away," you admit with a breathless laugh, shaking your head. "If I stayed on his lap, I would’ve fucked that man right on the fire pit floor."
When you finally pull back, breathless, you move to tease the rest of the guys as you go back the way you came. And as you pass them, all of the guys remain relatively respectful—Pope keeping his hands to himself, throat bobbing. Justin turns his head, huffing in frustration. Theo bites his lower lip, shifting awkwardly in his seat, looking you up and down. And as you dance in front of JJ, he playfully starts to put his hands out before—
"Don’t you fuckin’ dare," Rafe points at the blonde from where he’s sat, eyes narrowed.
JJ throws his hands up in mock surrender, laughing, and you giggle, a sound that echoes beautifully in Rafe’s ears like an angel calling out to him before you stand back up and, blowing Rafe a kiss, make your way back into the house.
Then it’s Talia, strutting out in her Lifeguard costume. She struts out, putting the red whistle to her lips and letting out a loud blow that makes the guys jump, turning towards her.
"Looks like someone needs CPR, boys—lucky for you, I'm on duty tonight," she smirks, rolling her shoulders.
JJ lets out a slow, long whistle and she doesn't hold back whatsoever, moving to kiss all the guys everywhere but the lips—leaving wet kiss marks on their necks, chests, cheeks, grinding on their laps to the beat of the music. She gives all of them a fair taste—wrapping her whistle around JJ’s neck to pull him in for a heated kiss as they grab at each other, playing some kind of sexual tug-o-war. Then, she moves onto Pope, licking a stripe up the side of his neck before squatting in front of him, pulling him all the way down, whispering something in his ear before releasing him.
As she struts over to Theo, his throat bobs and she pulls him to stand before twirling herself around and slowly grinding down the length of his body. And surprisingly, unlike the previous girls, she gives Justin the same attention—hooking a leg over his shoulder before leaning into him, tugging on the little coils of his hair to yank his head back, kissing her way up his neck. And when she makes it to the end of the line of men, she lingers on Rafe for a solid few seconds, giving him a sultry dance that makes Rafe look away awkwardly.
And when Talia was finished, she sauntered off just as Rima came out as the Crimson Devil, catwalking out while twirling the pitchfork in her hand. She looked incredible, giving all the men a narrow look, eyes lidded with a smirk on her lips. She twirls her pitchfork with a smirk, eyeing the men.
"Ready to sell your soul tonight, boys? Because paradise is overrated, and I felt like bringing a little heat tonight," she purrs.
She grinds herself firmly on JJ, the first in the line up and she has nothing to hold back as she takes the challenge as an opportunity to have fun, especially with her and Justin’s recent issues. When she’s done with JJ, leaving the boy visibly flustered and red-faced, she moves over to Pope and gives him an insane show—straddling the man, running her hands over his chest, all while keeping eye contact with Justin the entire time, even as she leans down to plant hot, wet kisses all over Pope’s chest. Pope’s breathing is clearly shallow but he remains still, hands at his sides as he allows Rima to carry out whatever plot she had.
Dismounting Pope, she walks over to Theo. She walks up to him, placing the blunt end of her pitchfork lightly against his chest to push him back into his seat, then leans down to trace a hot, slow trail of tongue along his jawline before whispering something that makes Theo flush. But when she reaches Justin, she crouches down in his face, whispers something seemingly harsh and snarky if the way her lips curls is anything to judge by, and walks off without letting him touch her at all, running a sultry hand over Rafe’s lap to acknowledge him before walking away and disappearing out of sight.
And after Rima’s exit, the music dies down and the guys sit in silence for a second, catching their breath.
"Holy shit," Theo breathes out, wiping his forehead with a small grin. "How the fuck are we supposed to top that?"
YOU and the girls were now the ones sitting around the fire pit, fan-girling over how hot they all looked during your own turns when the music started up again, interrupting the conversation as all of your heads snapped to where you all had walked out.
Theo is out first, clearly relying heavily on eye contact as he struts out, running a hand over his slicked back hair, a move that makes all of your girls laugh.
He gives all of you a tease—dancing in front of you, using his Italian tongue to charm you all—but focuses heavily on Sarah, pulling her up to dance. Seeing Theo in his unbuttoned mob-don vest and slicked curls dancing with Sarah in her golden angel lingerie, there was something distinctly Harley Quinn and Joker about their dark-meets-light vibe that had everyone cheering.
You all cheer Theo off, clapping as he disappears around the corner before Pope appears, catching everyone off guard. He has the lab coat slung over his shoulder like a sack before he twirls it in the air while you all cheer, tossing it to the side then tearing open his navy scrub top, tossing it to the ground and exposing his ribbed chest.
"Oh my God!" Cleo screams, shocked but also pleased, jumping up and down in her seat, jaw on the floor.
Pope then runs up to you girls, flashing a charming grin as he calls out, "Someone call for a doctor?"
He puts on a surprisingly confident show, grinding his hips low in front of Sarah, letting Talia feel up his bare chest and abs, and giving you and Rima a slow, lap-dance swirl that has you all screaming.
When he reaches Cleo, he puts on a masterclass. He takes his stethoscope, drapes it around Cleo’s neck, and presses the cold metal directly over the exposed skin of her chest. He leans in close, whispering into her ear, then pulls her in, kissing her passionately, trailing his lips down her neck and kissing right near the swell of her breast as you all cheer, sounding like a pack of hyenas surrounding them.
And by the time Pope finishes his turn and struts off, Cleo is fake-fanning herself, leaning back on the sofa. "I think I might need a doctor," she fawns breathlessly, making the rest of you laugh out loud.
Then... it’s Rafe's turn.
You have to stop your jaw from dropping as he walks out in his black suit pants, unbuttoned white shirt, and leather harness, the other girls gasping out loud. His muscles are on full display, his blue eyes sharp, walking towards you with a dangerous kind of cockiness.
"Okay, I get it now," Talia whispers to you, her jaw wide. "I totally get it."
But Rafe doesn't care about raising any other girl's heartbeat. He barely gives any of them a second glance, just a small circle of his hips as he moves down the line with them cheering him on and a quick nod before he struts straight toward you, stopping in front of your seat, staring down at you.
Without warning, he reaches down and just scoops you out of your chair, and lifts you into his arms, the girls watching screaming at the top of their lungs.
Rafe hikes you up, chest pressed against you before he dives in, hands pulsing on your ass as he kisses you right in front of everyone, pushing his tongue into your mouth. The kiss turns filthy, sloppy as Rafe bounces you up and down against his hips. He leans you back onto the cushions of the fire pit sofa, leaning over you and slotting between your thighs as he grinds his weight in between your legs. He trails sloppy, biting kisses down your chin, neck, and over the exposed skin of your chest above your corset, making you laugh out loud, cheeks burning.
When he tires himself out and sets you down on your feet, he’s clearly not tired enough because this man turns you around and the girls go fucking wild as Rafe buries his face right into your chest, motorboating your boobs, before spinning you around, sliding down and playfully shoving his face between your ass cheeks over your showgirl bustle.
You scream with laughter and arousal, face growing hot with your heart pounding like a jackhammer against your ribs.
And when Rafe finally stands up, looking entirely too satisfied with himself, he presses one more hard kiss to your lips before walking off.
"Holy shit?!" Sarah screams, grabbing her face. "We basically just watched you two have sex!"
Your ears were burning hot, chest heaving as you sat back down, starstruck as you lowered your head, laughing into your hands, missing when JJ came out.
JJ tips his hat with a wide, mischievous grin. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy, ladies—who's ready to get wrangled tonight?”
He uses his lasso on the group of you and gives it his all. He drags Cleo up to her feet, dancing circles around her. He finds Rima, doing a routine with the lasso as if he was reeling her in. When he gets to Sarah, he lifts her up and tosses her over his back, saying something about ‘making the angel fly’ before setting her down as he makes his way to you, gyrating in your face in a way that makes you laugh.
He holds his hand out and you raise an eyebrow as he laughs. “I promise to keep it PG, alright? Don’t want that guy tryna kill me.” He jokes, winking at you.
You laugh, shaking your head before taking JJ’s hand while he pulls you up, throwing his lasso in circles above his head as he dances with you for the fun of it before you take your seat and he saves his best for last—dancing over to Talia and giving her the show of a lifetime.
He strutted over to her, grabbing her hands to pull her out of her seat before he spun her into his chest, wrapping his lasso around both of their waists to pin her body flush against his. Talia laughed, throwing her head back before JJ dipped her low, eyes locking onto hers as he ground his hips against hers before pulling her back up and pressing a hard kiss to her cheek that had them both grinning like idiots.
Finally, Justin comes out last in his Aviator costume. But instead of having fun…he decides to be petty.
Throughout his routine, he deliberately ignores Rima, entertaining every girl but her, acting as if she isn’t there at all. And to twist the knife, he pulls Cleo to her feet towards the end of his dance, trying to use her as a pawn to make Rima jealous by getting provocative with her—slow grinding on her, hands mapping out her body.
And Cleo tolerates it for about three seconds before she pushes Justin away. "Alright, enough," she says, shoving him back. Justin just scoffs and walks off, ending the challenge on a bizarre and awkwardly tense note.
A few minutes later, both the guys and girls have now gathered at the fire pit, still dressed in your costumes, sitting together as couples when a text arrives. Sarah fishes her phone from her costume, reading the text out loud.
"Islanders, the results of the Hearts on Fire challenge are in.” Everyone sighs, settling in their seats. “Starting with the girls, the results are as follows…” She reads, taking a deep breath, reading each text following. “Sarah, your heart was raised the most by Theo.”
The blonde girl smiles, snuggling deeper into Theo’s side as he pecks her cheek, patting his own chest proudly.
Then Cleo’s phone pings as she fishes for it, flipping it open and reading the text— “Cleo, your heart was raised the most by Pope.” Pope is pleased with himself, smiling and high fiving the boys next to him before pulling Cleo closer into his side affectionately as she giggles. Then, your phone pings.
“...Your heart rate was raised the most by Rafe.” You throw your hands out as if to say ‘duh’ and the other Islanders giggle as Rafe dips down, planting a proud kiss onto the very top of your forehead, arm flexing around your shoulders when Rima’s phone makes a sound.
“Rima,” she starts reading the text to herself. “...your heart rate was raised the most…by Pope.” And the way her voice rises near the tail end tells the rest of you that she also can’t believe it. “...Well, that’s awkward.” She winces, but she doesn’t say much more than that as all eyes are now on her, Justin, Cleo, and Pope.
Justin scoffs out loud, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “Who’s surprised?” He says snarkily, lip curling.
Rima snaps, looking over at him, hair whipping around her face. "Oh, please,” She growls. “You acted like I wasn’t even there."
"Whatever," Justin mutters back, just shrugging.
"Guys," Pope says gently, trying to keep the peace. “Let’s just chill…” He throws in casually, just as Talia’s phone goes off and she reads her result last.
“Talia, your heart rate was raised the most by JJ…and Rafe.”
Talia just laughs and shrugs, speaking up casually about the tie. "Honestly, it doesn't mean anything.” She says, looking mostly at you and Rafe. “Rafe did an insane job, and watching him with you was something else.” She jokes. “Honestly, if you danced for me, my heart probably would've raised for you too!" She tells you with an impressed, jokingly flirtatious look and everyone laughs, and JJ shakes it off as well, saying he ‘had fun regardless’.
Then, the second text arrives with the guys' results, Theo receiving the initial text.
“Guys, your results of the heart rate challenge are as follows…” he reads aloud, then Pope’s phone pings.
“Pope, your heart rate was raised the most by Cleo.” Pope is unsurprised, as well as the girl tucked under his arm as they look at each other and smile brightly.
Then Rafe’s phone goes off between the two of you, the man shifting to pull it from his pocket and flip the device open.
“Rafe, your heart rate was raised the most by Y/N.” You sit up straighter as he reads the text, dramatically flipping your hair over your shoulders cockily as Rafe chuckles behind you, chest vibrating against your back as he pulls you back down, pecking your cheek.
Seconds later, JJ’s phone pings— “JJ, your heart was raised…equally amongst all the girls.”
The entire fire pit bursts into laughter at JJ's result, the guys shaking their heads. But as everyone's laughter slowly tapers off, their eyes turn to Talia. She's sitting straight-faced, holding a totally blank expression that makes the room go silent…before she breaks out into loud, hysterical laughter herself.
"...Wait, you're not pissed?" Sarah asks, wide-eyed. "I'd be so pissed!"
"Not at all," Talia giggles, waving her hand. "My heart rate was raised watching all of you through the window, too! Plus, how mad can I really be considering my heart rate was raised by Rafe? It's just a challenge, I’m not mad."
JJ grins, nodding along.
After everyone calms down, Justin’s phone chimes and he pulls it from one of his many pockets, reading the text.
“Justin, your heart rate was raised the most…by Cleo.”
The lighthearted mood fades in a second and the laughter dies out, an uncomfortable, suffocating silence falling over the group as Justin's result hangs over your heads.
Everyone nervously glances back and forth between Rima and Justin, giving them a moment to address it, but when neither says a word and Justin sits there, jaw clenched, fuming, while Rima lets out a bitter exhale and visibly scoots as far away from him as physically possible on the edge of the couch, you all just decide to move on.
A few awkward moments pass before Theo’s phone chimes and he opens it. “Theo, your heart rate was raised the most by Sarah…and Y/N—”
Almost as if her thoughts finally hit her, Rima snaps, cutting off Theo as she turns on Justin, voice as sharp as a razor. "You’re such a hypocritical piece of shit!” She scoffs, brows pinched. “You seriously got mad at me, but you clearly still have feelings for Cleo!"
"I don't have feelings for Cleo!" Justin shouts back, the two of them devolving into a full-blown screaming match right there.
Meanwhile, as the two continue arguing and the others try to calm them down, next to you, you notice Rafe’s entire frame has gone still and he’s basically staring death threats at Theo.
Noticing his lack of movement, you gently reach over, taking his hand. "Hey..."
Rafe speaks through gritted teeth, voice dangerously low. "So what he said earlier in the kitchen was a whole bunch of bullshit."
"What do you mean?" You ask, eyebrows pinched.
"What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?” Rafe huffs, clearly frustrated but not trying to take it out on you. “You raised his heart rate the most," Rafe sighs, staring at the floor. "And he was just sittin’ there telling you how ‘happy’ he was for us."
"Rafe," you say gently, turning his face toward you with a gentle yet firm pressure as he tries not to pout like a kid, failing miserably. "It’s just a challenge. And at the end of the day... I will always choose you.” You smile, so softly he can’t help but relax into you. You look so adorable and in love, he can’t stay mad. “I chose you then, and I choose you now."
"...Yeah, I know.” He sighs, throwing his head back, using his arm to push you closer into him. “Sorry."
You just laugh lightly under your breath, not saying anything, just lifting yourself to plant a light kiss on the underside of his jaw before you turn, nudging Sarah softly, who was sitting next to you, whispering, "Are you alright?"
Sarah smiles small, whispering back, "Yeah…I think I'm okay.” She says, almost like she’s just coming to the realization herself. “Honestly, it's just a challenge. It's no secret Theo was attracted to both of us at one point. I trust him, and I trust you.” She says honestly. “Though..." she winks playfully. "I'm keeping my eye on you, girl."
You laugh softly, relieved.
Across the fire pit though, Rima and Justin were still arguing before things reached a boiling point and Rima stood up, glaring down at Justin. "You know what? Fuck you! I can’t wait to get off of this fucking island and away from you." she snaps, voice deeper and more convicted than any of you had ever heard it as she turns and storms inside the villa.
And Justin just scoffs as the rest of you sit, shocked at the outburst. "Fuck this," he mutters, standing up and walking off in the opposite direction, around some corner and out of sight.
Silence hangs over the rest of you for a long moment, no one really knowing what to say, or where or how to go from here.
Then JJ looks around, clapping his hands together. "Well... the rest of us had fun, at least."
AFTER everyone changes out of their costumes, you wander upstairs looking for Rafe. You're freshly showered, skin dewy and warm when you find him in the empty bedroom, lying flat on his back on one of the beds, staring up at the ceiling.
"Hi," you say softly, walking in.
Rafe turns his head, a small smile growing on his face at the sight of you. "Hey." He rasps. “You look pretty.”
You smile shyly, ducking your head as you sit down on the edge of the mattress next to him, a hand on his leg. "...Are you still upset? About the challenge?"
Rafe bites the inside of his cheek, seeming to ponder before, "No," he says slowly. "I don't think I am."
"You don't think?"
"I talked to Theo," he admits through a sigh, sitting up and rubbing his hands down his face. "He said he doesn't have romantic feelings for you anymore, and that it was a physical attraction thing, said physical attraction doesn't just vanish overnight, but his heart is with Sarah."
You nodded. "And…how do you feel about that?" you ask softly.
"I…don't know," Rafe sighs. “I know it’s not really that big of a deal, but it’s still weird to me.”
You sigh and look him in the eyes, scooting closer. "Rafe... do you trust me?"
"’Course I do," he says immediately, looking at you.
"Then trust me," you smile softly.
Rafe stares at you for a second before a soft, irresistible smile breaks across his face. He leans in, hands under your arms, pulling you into his lap and sitting you there before pressing his lips to yours in a short and sweet kiss. "Using my own words against me, huh?"
"I think I have to," you whisper with a smile against his mouth.
And as you sit there in his lap, staring into his eyes, you feel that same overwhelming surge of that emotion rising in your throat, the three words branding themselves on the tip of your tongue. You open your mouth to say it—
"Do not," Rafe interrupts, pressing his finger gently against your lips.
You groan, rolling your eyes but also laughing. "Rafe, come on!"
"I promise you'll be able to say it soon," he assures you, his eyes filled with sincerity. "But I want everything to be perfect for you when you do."
"I don't care about it being perfect," you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I just want you.” You reassure, trailing your fingers down his arms. “I want to be able to say it out loud."
"I know," Rafe mutters softly, kissing your cheek. "So do I. But you deserve perfect.” He tells you. “Nothing short of it."
And before you can argue, both of your phones in your pockets go off, and you exchange confused looks.
You pull your phones out and find that it’s a group text sent to every Islander:
Islanders, tonight, you are all invited to a Dinner Party in the garden. Please get dressed in your finest evening wear and head downstairs.
You and Rafe look at each other, confused.
"A dinner party?" Rafe asks, raising an eyebrow. "What for?"
"...I have no idea," you say, standing up.
IN the makeup room, you and the girls are getting glammed up, but Rima is sitting at her vanity, face set in stone.
"...Rima, are you okay?" Sarah asks gently, being the one to finally ask.
Rima just scoffs, sweeping blush over her brown cheeks. “Oh, I am fine,” she says, shrugging lazily. "But Justin is dead to me." She says, voice cold. "After tonight? We are done. That shit was ridiculous."
"Is it just because of the challenge?" Talia asks.
"God, no," Rima says honestly. "It’s everything over the last few days. He’s shown his true colors." She says and turns to Cleo. "And Cleo, please know I hold zero bad blood toward you. I know my heart rate raised for Pope and I’ll admit, I still find Pope attractive, but I know that ship sailed long ago. I think it was really just because of everything going on with Justin, as well."
Cleo smiles and waves a hand dismissively. "It’s all good. Me and Pope are solid, and you and I are solid. I know how things get in here. I'm not worried."
"Good," Rima sighs. "And I don't ever want to see Justin's face again."
"Well," you giggle nervously, "this is going to be one awkward dinner."
SOON after, you and all the girls walk down the staircase in stunning evening gowns, finding the guys waiting at the bottom in collared shirts and button-ups.
Rafe’s eyes light up the second he sees you walk down the stairs, at the tail end of the group. He steps forward as you reach the bottom of the stairs, taking your hand and kissing the back of it before kissing your forehead. "You look gorgeous," he whispers.
You smile, cheeks warm as you squeeze his hand. “You look cute too, Cameron,” you smile up at him.
Rafe chuckles, walking behind the rest of the group, hand in hand with you as he and the guys lead you and the girls out into the center of the yard, where a long wooden dining table has been set up, draped in floral arrangements, surrounded by glowing candles, and piled high with a food. “What’s up with you callin’ me ‘cute’? Y’know, I am a grown man, whether you believe it or not.” He teases.
You just giggle, running your other hand down his arm as you all walk. “I’ll take your word for it,” you say. “...You look very handsome, Rafe.” you tell him adoringly.
Rafe then smiles down at you, and you swear he’s blushing before he tries to hide it, looking back ahead, but his neck is basically painted crimson. “That’s much better. Thank you.” He rasps out, looking away, and all you can do is giggle.
As you all reach the table, everyone takes their seats, sitting across from their partners. Rima and Justin sit near the end, ignoring each other, but the rest of the table is filled with laughter and flirting throughout the dinner.
And, per usual, you and Rafe are insufferable. You’re sitting across from him, feet wrapped around his leg under the table as you hold hands across the candlelit table, feeding each other bites of food and dessert, enamored with one another as you talk.
"I can't believe we made it this far," you whisper to him, leaning over the table. "And there are only a few days left before this whole thing ends..."
"I know," Rafe sighs, thumb stroking the back of your hand as he leans back in his seat, spooning a piece of cheesecake. "But I can't fucking wait to get out into the real world with you.” He smiles, the anticipation creating a movie in his mind.
"Me too," you smile softly, leaning in to taste a spoonful of dessert he offers you. "This dessert is amazing, by the way. I think this is the best cheesecake I’ve ever had—"
Suddenly, every conversation pauses as three servers in black attire walk into the garden carrying five polished silver cloches—domed metal food covers. They walk around the table in dead silence as all of your eyes follow them, placing one silver cloche directly in front of each couple.
PING.
Everyone groans in unison, throwing themselves back into their seats. "I knew there was a catch," JJ groans, throwing his hands up.
Cleo pulls out her phone and reads the text aloud.
“Islanders, as we near the finale, it is time to reveal the final four couples. Underneath each cloche is an envelope containing your fate. When instructed by text, each couple will lift their cloche, break the seal, and read their card aloud to the table.”
An anxious silence settles over the garden as everyone exchanges looks. Everyone sat in silence, exchanging heavy looks across the table.
It was the unsaid realization hitting all of you at once—this was the moment, the exact reason you’d all come in the first place. But now that it was actually happening, everyone's heart was racing. It wasn't even about the desire to win or reach the finale anymore, it was the fear of seeing who was about to be sent packing, because despite all the drama, you’d all genuinely become a family.
You all nearly flinch out of your seats when the first text arrives, Pope pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Cleo and Pope, please lift your cloche.”
Cleo’s hands shake slightly as she meets Pope’s eyes and lifts the silver dome, revealing a pink envelope sealed with gold wax. She hesitates before she breaks the seal, pulls out the metallic card, and reads aloud—..."Congratulations! You are in the finale!"
Everyone cheers as Pope jumps up out of his seat, rounding the end of the table to scoop Cleo into a hug, kissing her deeply before they sit back down, relieved.
And you assumed the texts were moving down the table because next, your phone chimes and you flip the device open, reading you and Rafe’s names before, “Please, lift your cloche.”
Your heart pounds in your chest, but you look across at Rafe to find him looking back at you, calm.
"Do you want me to open it?" Rafe asks softly.
"Please," you whisper through a nervous laugh.
Rafe smiles, leans across the table and lifts the silver cloche, breaks the wax seal on the envelope, and reads the metallic card…
"Congratulations! You are in the finale!"
You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding as Rafe leans all the way over the table, cups your face and kisses you as the entire table claps and cheers for you two.
Just as he releases you with a smile, the third text arrives, Sarah flipping her phone open— “Sarah and Theo, please lift your cloche.”
Theo takes Sarah’s shaking hand across the table, looking her in the eyes and together, they lift the cloche, open the seal, and read that they, too, are finalists. Sarah falls into tears of joy, laughing tearfully, reaching across the table to wrap her arms around Theo’s neck, burying her face in his shoulder.
And now that three finalist spots are filled, only two couples remain sitting at the table—Talia and JJ, and Rima and Justin.
And Rima doesn't even wait for a text, just glares at Justin, who is sitting silently, and lifts the silver cloche herself. She breaks the wax seal, pulls out the card, takes a deep breath, and reads aloud.
"Rima and Justin... your journey ends tonight."
Gasps echo around the table but deep down, no one is really shocked. Rima lets out a quiet, peaceful breath of relief, nodding her head as Justin sits stunned, a dark, angry scowl settling over his face.
Which means—
JJ and Talia both reach for the silver dome, knocking it over, but Talia grabs it first, basically tearing it to shreds as she finds the metallic card before squealing and rounding the table as her and JJ hug each other tightly, happy to be in the finale, but the mood at the table is still bittersweet.
Then, there’s another chime and Rima opens her phone, sighing.
“Rima and Justin, you have not been voted as one of the final couples and as a result, you are now dumped from the island. Please, pack your bags, say your goodbyes, and get ready to leave the villa.”
You all sigh and slump in your chairs.
The dinner is over.
Everyone stands up, giving them hugs. The guys give Justin brief, polite claps on the back, but you and the girls swarm Rima, walking her upstairs to help her pack.
"YOU didn't deserve this," Sarah sniffs, wiping a stray tear from under her eye. "You deserved an incredible guy! And now you’re going home because of a shitty one…"
"Guys, please don't cry," Rima smiles, packing her clothes into her suitcase. "I felt this coming a mile away. We all did. And one of us would’ve been going home anyway, I’m glad it’s me.” She tells you all, folding a dress. “I’d rather go home right now with my self-respect intact than fake it to the finale with a guy who couldn't even respect me. I'm happy. Relieved, even." She chuckles.
As she finishes packing, zipping up her huge suitcase, Rima pulls each of you aside for an individual goodbye.
She walks up to Sarah first, hands on her shoulders. "You keep your head up. No matter how many times people call you 'naive' or 'gullible,' remember that you are a strong, incredible girl. Having a big, open heart is a gift, not a weakness." Sarah nods tearfully, hugging her tightly as Rima turns to Cleo.
"Watching your relationship blossom with Pope while you maintained your dignity and everything... I admire you so much.” She smiles. “I grew so close to you, and I’m gonna miss you." Cleo wipes a tear, pulling Rima into a hug.
Then, Rima turns to you.
She smiles warmly, taking both of your hands. "I am so proud of you. Even coming in after most of you, it’s not hard to see how much you’ve grown, with and without Rafe. And honestly? You made me want to be confident."
"Oh please, that was all you," you say, shaking your head, tears pricking your eyes.
"No, I promise you," Rima insists gently. "There were so many times I looked up to you. When your ex showed up and you told him to fuck off. When you thought Rafe messed up and you immediately stood your ground and chose yourself. You have such a huge heart, but you also have such a level head on your shoulders. And... I’m rooting for you and Rafe with everything I have.” She says, nodding.
Tears spill over your cheeks as you sniff and wrap your arms around Rima, hugging her like your life depends on it.
Finally, the woman turns to Talia. "Talia, I haven't known you long, but your energy is amazing. You’re the only girl who could match JJ’s wild side and make him see a side of himself nobody else could. Never lose that spark."
And you and the girls all groan and whine before gathering for one last group hug, crying and sniffling into each other’s shoulders and arms before heading down and into the photo booth to take pictures together and see Rima off.
DOWNSTAIRS, the guys are talking to Justin while he packs his bags.
"Look, man," JJ says gently, setting a hand on Justin's shoulder. "We gotta be real with you. The way you handled things with Rima... it wasn't right, bro. But it doesn’t suck to see you go."
"Yeah," Theo adds, nodding softly. "But look, we still wish you the best on the outside."
Justin just scoffs, shoving his clothes aggressively into his duffel bag. "Whatever. Nobody knows the whole story. And I'm pretty sure the producers edited it to make me look like the bad guy, and everyone fell for it. Y'all don't know shit..." He brushed them all off, carrying his own suitcase down the steps as the guys exchanged glances and followed him down with tight-lipped grimaces.
And when Rima and you and the girls meet Justin and the guys at the front entrance of the villa, suitcases in hand, she looks at all of you gathered with a bright smile. "Well... I guess this is it.” She throws her arms out, laughing. “I’m going to miss you all so much.” She assures, hand on her suitcase as she starts to back up. “But I’ll be watching from home!" She turns to Rafe, pointing a finger at him. "Cameron... treat my girl right, or I’m on your ass the second you land."
Rafe grins, nodding as he throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.
And Rima and Justin walk away, rounding the corner and disappearing, leaving the villa.
Goodbye Confessional : Rima
She beams broadly at the camera, eyes bright and proud. "My journey here got cut a little short, but honestly? I wouldn't change a thing. My standards have been raised to the sky, I'm leaving with my head held high and my self-respect. I love my girls so much, and I'm rooting for them with my whole heart."
Goodbye Confessional : Justin
He sits with his arms crossed, scowling. "It's hilarious, to be honest. I could feel the walls closing in. Nobody in that house actually had my back or understood me. I was the most genuine guy in there, and I got screwed over by bullshit."
As you watch them leave, tears are streaming down your face slowly, and Sarah and Cleo are sniffling beside you.
Rafe cranes his neck to get a good look at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Why’re you cryin’?" he asks softly, wiping one of the tears away.
"It’s just…hard to see her leave," you say, voice shaky as you turn around in his arms, burying the side of your face in his chest, hands on his back. "I know we only have a few days left, but watching her go hurts."
Rafe holds you gently, rubbing your back, his tone soft. "Well, don't cry.” He gives a lopsided pout that you can’t see. “I don't like seeing you cry."
"Sorry," you sniffle and laugh at the same time, looking up at him with watery eyes. "I can't help it. I'm just... I'm happy we made it, but it sucks seeing her go."
"I know," Rafe mutters softly, leaning down to kiss on your cheeks before pressing a warm kiss to your lips. "C’mon. I think we all need to go to bed."
THE next morning, you wake up, and the realization seems to hit everyone simultaneously as Sarah jumps out of her bed, jumping on the mattress, squealing.
"We’re the final freaking four!" She screams, hair moving wildly around her face.
JJ follows, always a victim to rowdiness as he jumps out of his bed, waking a grumpy Talia before joining her, jumping up and down. "Woo! Final four baby, let’s go!"
Over in his bed, Theo groans, pulling his pillow over his face as Sarah shakes the bed.
Everyone laughs at his agony, though a certain heaviness falls over the room for a brief moment.
Waking up without Rima feels strange, but the excitement of being in the final four overrides that gloom.
"...You know what?" Theo says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, glaring playfully at Sarah. "I'm making breakfast for everyone today."
"Oooh, yes!" Sarah cheers.
WHILE Theo cooks downstairs and the guys are getting ready, you and the remaining three girls gather in the dressing room to do your makeup, hair, and skincare.
"It feels so weird in here without her," Cleo says, looking at Rima’s empty vanity chair.
"I know," You agree. "It’s weird to think she’s probably boarding a plane right now." You sigh. “...But I know she’s probably happy to have her phone back.”
“Ugh, I can’t wait,” Sarah groans, rubbing moisturizer into her cheeks. “What is my life without Tiktok?”
You and the other girls laugh lightly at her whining.
"...Honestly, though," Talia adds, blending her foundation. "I hate to admit it... but I was glad to see Justin go. I didn't want Rima to leave, but Justin needed to get the boot."
"Agreed" you nod.
The dressing room door opens as JJ pokes his head in, grinning. "Breakfast is served, ladies! Chef Theodorino went crazy, y’all gotta come check this out."
You and the girls laugh before heading downstairs to the kitchen area, stopping in your tracks, blown away by the spread laid out across the counter. Considering the limited ingredients in the villa, Theo had pulled off a miracle— fruit platters, golden waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, and even a pitcher of strawberry syrup created from scratch.
"Theo, did you make strawberry syrup?!" Sarah gasps, eyes wide.
"How did you even make this?" Cleo asks, thoroughly impressed.
Theo just stands there, palming the back of his neck, face growing red.
"Aww, look at him getting all sentimental!" Talia teases, nudging his arm.
Theo blushes, looking down at the counter to hide his shy smile. "Alright, alright, stop talking and just…eat before it gets cold," he mutters.
Everyone digs in, filling their plates and taking seats together like a cozy family. "Seriously, Theo, I’m with JJ—you need to open a restaurant after this," you say, taking a bite of the waffle.
"It's actually always been a dream of mine," Theo admits softly, smiling. "Thinkin’ about maybe actually doing it one day."
And for the rest of breakfast, you and Rafe flirt shamelessly, feeding each other strawberries and bites of waffle across the table. Across from you, Talia and JJ are taking turns trying to toss grapes into each other's mouths, bursting into laughter whenever they miss. Cleo and Pope are experimenting with bizarre food combos—Pope convincing the girl to try a piece of sausage topped with waffle, egg, and syrup all in one bite. Meanwhile, Sarah and Theo are building each other's plates, trying to guess every single item the other would want without asking.
AFTER breakfast, all eight of you lounge around the daybeds, laughing and reminiscing about the entire 32-day journey from the very beginning.
"Remember that first day?" Cleo laughs, looking at the people who were there for that, really only being Pope himself, Rafe, and Kiara. "When I stole Pope from Kiara?"
Pope grins, shaking his head. "I was confused. I didn’t think you liked me, not with the way you were looking at me."
"Oh, please, I saw you and knew I needed that." Cleo jokes, waving off the Heyward boy. “I just hadn’t turned on my charm yet.”
"Well, we weren’t there yet,” JJ waves a hand between himself and you. “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever been that nervous or excited in my life.”
"Oh, that’s right," you gasp, slapping your forehead. "How did I forget we came in together? Sometimes I even forget I’m a bombshell." You laugh, leaning back into Rafe as he draws circles into your thigh
"Bombshell besties!" JJ yells in a teasing high-pitched girly voice, giving you a high-five as you laugh at his antics. "...And we made it all the way to the end." He says with a look of nostalgia on his face, voice lowering back to normal.
Rafe watches you two, laughing softly.
"That first challenge had us all super shocked," Sarah admits. "When we took off our blindfolds, I was like, 'Yup, we're in big trouble, they’re sexy as hell.'"
"And remember Rafe that night?" Pope throws out, grinning. "He was coupled up with Ruthie—man, that’s a name I don’t miss—” He adds, making most of you groan or giggle.
“How do you think I feel?” Sarah laughs, rolling her eyes as Pope continues.
“But he’d been looking miserable all day. Then the second he laid eyes on you,” Pope threw a hand in your direction. “I swear, it was like a light switch flipped in his brain."
"Oh, for sure," Cleo agrees. "I thought I was the only one who noticed it.”
Rafe smirks, pulling you closer to his side. "Best decision I ever made."
"Speaking of Ruthie and Topper…that whole situation was insane," Cleo scoffs, shaking her head. "Ruthie literally tried to use Rafe as a cover-up and make you the scapegoat while sneaking behind Sarah's back."
"Please don't remind me," Sarah groans, covering her face. "Let's talk about something else before I actually die."
"Okay, okay... Casa Amor?" JJ offers, prompting half the group to groan out loud.
"Oh God, no, that's an even worse topic!" Sarah laughs.
Theo throws his hands up defensively. "Hey now!"
"Oh, that's right!" Sarah giggles. "You’re literally the last person standing from Casa, that’s crazy to think about."
"The lone wolf, biondina," Theo smirks.
"Casa was drama, but I guess it did what it was supposed to do—test us. Even if technically we all failed," Pope jokes.
"...I still can't believe John B lied like that," Sarah sighs.
"It's okay girl, he's gone now, we got his ass out of here," Cleo reassures her, before wincing. "Now looking back, I definitely regret bringing Justin back. What a piece of shit..."
"And I thought bringing Kaitlyn back was the end of me and you," Pope admits softly, looking at Cleo.
"I definitely regret how I went about Casa," JJ says, rubbing his jaw. "I wasn’t tryna hurt anyone, I swear. I should've handled it way better..."
"Who had it the worst at Casa, though?" Talia asks. "Obviously you two," she nods at you and Rafe, "are on the board, but between you, Sarah, and Kiara..."
"It was Kie," Cleo says firmly. "She got eliminated just for sticking loyal to this idiot."
"Dude, you were so wrong for that," Pope tells him. "If you had time to tell me how you felt, you had time to tell her. You know you did." He reprimands his friend.
"I know, I know," JJ says seriously, holding his hands up. "After we leave, I want to clear the air with her when all the post-show stuff happens. If she's even open to it. I'm just…I’m happy where I am now,” he looks down at Talia, smiling before looking at you all. “and I just want Kie to be happy too."
"Sarah definitely had it second worst," you say gently. "You thought you and John B were solid coming back, only to find out he lied to your face."
"I'll never forget the way my heart dropped," Sarah admits softly. "And then finding out he kept lying... I'll never forgive him.” She huffs. “He's the worst liar I've ever met, and people who lie that easily are dangerous."
"Third place on the podium is definitely you and Rafe," Pope says sympathetically. "No offense Theo, but watching you pick him when Rafe stayed loyal... from the guys' side, it was heartbreaking. For real."
"Pope and I were looking at each other during your speech so confused," JJ agrees. "We didn't get any video or postcard at Casa, so when y’all kept mentioning a video, we were wondering what the hell y’all were talkin’ about."
"I've never seen you that pissed," Cleo laughs at you. "Not even when your ex was in the villa."
"Watching you two during that was so sad, everyone loves you together," Sarah smiles. "You've both grown so much."
"Honestly, you two probably would've worked it out even sooner if Sofia hadn't made things ten times harder," Talia points out. "When I was watching in my hotel room, I was so mad for you both. Sofia and Miles have to be two of the most evil people on Earth."
"Oh God, I never want to hear the name 'Sofia' ever again in my life," you groan, lip curling as you roll your eyes.
Rafe rolls his eyes, scoffing. "You’re tellin’ me,”
“Oh, don't even get me started.” You reprimand with a pointed finger, looking up at him.
“What did I do?” Rafe’s eyebrows pinch. “I didn’t do anything, I’ve been cleared!” He defends through a deep chuckle.
"You shouldn't have even been talking to her in the first place!" you tease, poking Rafe's chest.
"Wh—we were stuck in a villa together!" Rafe defends, laughing.
"I don't care if you both were stuck in a two-by-four jail cell, you shouldn't have been talking to her," you joke back, though your voice is stern. "I'm still pissed you told her you missed her." You say, shivering in disgust.
"But you saw the whole conversation on Movie Night," Rafe chuckles, trying to defend himself, running his hands down your arms. "I didn't actually say I missed her, it was like a play on words, you know?"
"I'm not trying to hear that shit," you wave him off playfully. "And I hope you know when we get out of here, you're never talking to her again."
"I didn't plan to," Rafe shrugs.
"No, I'm actually so serious, especially with how the public spins stuff," you press. "If you're following her on anything, unfollow her. Block her number, delete it. If you see her in public, act like she doesn't exist."
Rafe smiles fondly, looking at you with adoration. "Yes, ma'am."
The rest of the islanders burst into awe and giggles. "Oh, just propose to her already," JJ yells.
Rafe smirks, pulling you closer. "I'm working on it. Gotta get to the girlfriend part first."
Everyone laughs as the conversation dies and shifts, JJ wrapping an arm around Talia before speaking, still reminiscing. "Honestly, I'm just glad Talia came in when she did. I was terrified I was gonna leave this place alone, but I found my girl."
"I was scared too," Talia admits softly. "They told me I was one of the last bombshells, and I thought nobody would want me—"
Then, there’s a sudden ping, Cleo pulling her phone from her bikini.
“What’s it say?” Sarah asks.
“Islanders, to help blow off some steam after yesterday's intense challenge, the Hideaway is officially open! You must now decide as a group which couple should go in. #PrivateSuite #RomanceInTheAir”
Instantly, you and Cleo look at each other and start playfully arguing. And off-brand from the playful argument you'd both had days ago about fighting for the Hideaway, you start trying to offer it up to each other.
"Not me!" you say, pointing at Cleo. "You and Pope should go!"
"No way!" Cleo counters. "You and Rafe already had the Hideaway once! You should have taken full advantage! I’m givin’ you another opportunity girl!"
"Well, we didn’t! So, you take it!” you offer up.
While you and the girls are banter-debating, the guys exchange looks.
Unbeknownst to you, Rafe had pulled Theo, JJ, and Pope aside earlier that morning, asking them that if anything opened up— The Hideaway or a date, anything—to please vote for him and you (and yes, he actually said please) because he had ‘something important’ planned.
Theo, JJ, and Pope all look at Rafe and wink or nod subtly.
"Honestly," JJ speaks up loudly, throwing his arms behind his head. "I think Rafe and her should go."
"Yeah," Pope agrees, though his poker face is shaky. "You two have been through the most in here. You deserve a night."
"Wait…really?" you ask, surprised. “I don't know I think we've all been through a lot though—”
"Girl, go!" Sarah squeals, shoving your shoulder playfully. “You and that man have been trying to jump on each other for weeks and we don't want to see it anymore!” She jokes.
“Okay!” you throw your hands up, looking at Rafe. “...What do you say?”
“...I say we take the offer.” He smirks lazily.
THE girls drag you upstairs to the dressing room to get you ready and they dress you in a jaw-dropping, sheer black lace lingerie set that shapes your frame perfectly, covering it with a silk robe so Rafe can't see it until you're inside and shield you on the way.
"Are you excited?" Sarah beams, adjusting the robe around you.
"Nervous, but…yeah," you admit, smiling.
Cleo points a finger at you, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Listen to me closely. This is your last chance to take the Hideaway seriously. You gotta want it.” She tells you like a coach. “If I find out tomorrow morning that you gave up the Hideaway for nothing again while the rest of us stayed out here, you will feel it."
You laugh, saluting the girl. "Message received."
IN the bedroom, the guys are teasing Rafe, who is surprisingly pale and nervous.
"Does my hair look alright?" he asks nervously, brushing his hand over his head.
"Bro... you have a buzzcut," JJ deadpans. "You don't have hair."
Rafe glares at him, heart pounding in his chest as the guys walk him outside.
Down at the bottom of the stairs, Rafe stands shifting his weight nervously, hands in his pockets as he looks up toward the terrace where the guys and girls are leaning over the railing. "Thanks for helping me set this up, guys," Rafe calls up softly.
"No problem, bro, that's what we're here for," Theo yells down.
"Just don't chicken out now, Cameron!" JJ shouts with a grin.
But their conversation is interrupted by the sound of you walking down the stairs, and Rafe’s eyes sparkle as he steps forward to meet you at the bottom. Before Rafe can even open his mouth as you reach the bottom step, you smirk and cut him off. "I look gorgeous, I know."
Rafe breaks into an irresistible grin, shaking his head. "Glad to see my programming is working." He reaches out, lightly pinching the edges of your silk robe and wiggling it playfully. "What are you hidin’ under here?"
"You're just gonna have to wait and see," you tease, winking as he takes your hand.
The rest of the islanders are leaned over the balcony, yelling down teasing remarks at the two of you as Rafe takes your hand, leading you down to the Hideaway.
"Use protection!" Talia laughed out loud.
“Hunchin’ in the Hideaway!” JJ joked, amusing himself.
"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!" Pope yelled.
“Do everything I would do!” That was Cleo.
“Good luck, Cameron!” Theo laughed.
“We’ll miss you!” Sarah threw out, smiling like a proud mother as they all waved you away.
THE Hideaway was just as you remembered from all those weeks ago. Stunning, romantic—a plush king-sized bed, rose petals, soft mood lighting and prop candles everywhere.
"We haven't been here in forever," you say, looking around like you were at some kind of historical landmark. "We never got a chance to really explore it..."
Rafe lets your hand slip from his as you wander over to a cabinet on the wall. Hanging on the door is a sign that reads, ‘Pull Me for a Good Time.’.
"Was this here last time?" you ask, laughing and pointing at the cabinet.
"I don't think so," Rafe says, shaking his head and walking up behind you.
You pull the door open slowly, and your eyes widen at the sight. The closet is packed full with sex toys—a leather whip, furry handcuffs, velvet restraints, lace-trimmed blindfolds, bottles of warming lube, and boxes of condoms.
"Ohhh my," you gasp, bursting into laughter. You grab the handcuffs, turning around with a playful grin as you stretch them between your thumbs, looking Rafe up and down. “...You should let me tie you up."
Rafe scoffed, shaking his head, backing up with his hands raised. "Never in a million fuckin’ years."
“We’ll see about that,” you tease, turning around and giggling like a little kid as you continue poking around the closet, touching the toys. "Oh my god, what does this even do?"
You turn around, looking for your man. "Rafe, look at this—"
You pause.
Rafe is standing in the middle of the room, staring at you, eyes wide with his hands buried deep in his pockets. But something in his eyes feels and looks wildly different.
"...Uh, Rafe?" you ask softly, setting the toy down and raising an eyebrow. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Rafe says, voice rough and kind of tight. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Well, why do you sound like that?" you ask through a nervous laugh, taking a step toward him. "And why do you look like that? What's wrong?"
Rafe lets out a long, deep exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothin's wrong, I'm just... I'm trying to work up the courage to do what I planned to do."
You stop, confused. "What you ‘planned to do’?"
He just nods, swallowing. "It’s like I had it all planned out in my head perfectly," Rafe confesses, looking down at the floor before meeting your gaze. "But now that we're actually in here... I don’t know, you make me so fuckin’ nervous."
You soften as he sighs, stepping up to him and taking his large, warm hands in yours. "We don’t have to do anything—"
“No, I know," he laughs lowly, looking into your eyes. "It’s not that, it’s—" he takes a deep breath. "I asked the guys to vote for us to get the Hideaway tonight."
"...You did?"
"Yeah," Rafe nods. "I told them to push for us. Fuck, I basically begged them. Because... I've been telling you for days that I was waiting for the right moment to ask you that thing, because I wanted everything to be perfect for you.” He explains. “And I wanted you to know that I meant that."
Your heart starts to thump wildly against your ribs, palms growing sweaty.
Rafe takes a step closer, holding both of your hands tightly in his. "From the moment we met... even when you were just a blurry face in my head, I knew it was always going to be you. I didn't want to ask you in front of all the cameras, or in front of everyone else. I didn't want it to feel like it was for TV, or for anyone but you.” He says, voice firm as he squeezes your hands. “I just wanted it to be for us. I didn't get us into the Hideaway just to have sex.” He laughs, looking at you. “I wanted to be alone with just you."
His voice trembles slightly, eyes shining. "The past thirty-something days with you have been the best days of my entire life. Even when things were bad... I wouldn't trade a single second of it. And I’m really grateful for your patience and understanding, and your heart. I love everything about you." He starts rambling, words tumbling over each other fast and nervous—"And I just... I know I'm not perfect, and I know I get jealous and kind of ‘snappy’, but I promise I will spend every single day making sure you know how much you mean to me—"
"Rafe," you interrupt softly, a tear slipping down your cheek as a small and nervous yet anticipating smile spreads across your face. "What are you trying to say?"
He stops rambling and looks deep into your eyes, chest heaving.
"I want you," Rafe whispers. "I want you to be my girlfriend. If I had a ring right now, I swear I'd propose to you right now, but I don't, so you're gonna have to wait.” He laughs, which makes you laugh. “So... will you be my girlfriend—"
“Of course,” A loud, sob-like laugh escapes your lips as you cover your mouth to hide your embarrassingly wide smile. “What else did you think my answer was gonna be?"
“I don’t know—”
But before he can even respond, you leap forward, wrapping your legs around his waist as Rafe catches you, large hands catching your thighs and lifting you as you wrap your arms around his neck and cover his entire face in frantic, wet kisses—his cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, he even laughed as your soft lips hit the skin of his eyelid.
Rafe laughs, cheeks flushing bright red, holding you tight against his chest as he buries his face in your neck, letting out a breath of relief.
You pull back slightly, resting your forehead against his, staring into his blue eyes as the room goes quiet. You look at him, breath hitching.
"Can I say it now?"
Rafe smirks, scoffing softly. "I love you," he says softly, beating you to it.
You gasp, pulling back in his arms before swatting his shoulder. "Oh, fuck you! You cannot one-up me twice in a row!"
"I think I just did," Rafe winces softly with a cocky smile, eyes darkening with affection before he kisses you.
And it’s not a soft kiss anymore or little pecks. The second his lips meet yours, the buildup of weeks of longing and every unexpressed act or phrase love combusts between the two of you.
Rafe carries you over to the bed, lowering his body and pressing you down into the mattress. His body hovers over yours, eyes dark, wild, and consumed by everything you.
He pauses, resting his hands on either side of your head, chest heaving and breath fanning over your cheeks. "We don't have to do anything, y’know," he whispers, his voice thick with restraint. "I don't want you to feel like—"
"Fuck that," you whisper back, reaching down to untie the belt of your silk robe. "I’ve been waiting to get you like this for weeks."
Rafe smirks, a dangerous gleam entering his eyes. "Yeah?” He smirks, tongue peeking out between his teeth, just a bit. “Even when you were mad at me?"
"Especially when I was mad at you," you whisper, leaning up just enough to pull the robe off your shoulders, letting it fall around you into a puddle of silk, exposing the lingerie beneath.
Rafe sucks in a deep breath as his eyes rake over your body, taking in the lace shaping your breasts, the dip of your waist, the line of your hips. "Fuck..."
You make a face, tilting your head as you look at him. "Like what you see, Cameron?"
Rafe's eyes darken as he swallows hard, his grip on your waist tightening. "You know I always do," he rasps out.
Rafe throws his shirt above his head, off and onto the floor, exposing his muscular chest and shoulders before he leans down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss that snatches the air from your lungs and makes your lips ache.
It’s probably the most intense, passionate experience of your life as Rafe takes his time with you, but his restraint is crumbling by the second. His hands are everywhere—rough and desperate, possessive. He grips your waist, digging his thumbs into your hips, leaving pressure marks on your skin that you make curve yourself into him, moaning softly into his mouth.
He glides his swollen, wet lips down your throat, trailing hot kisses over your collarbone, down to the lace covering your breasts as he uses his teeth to graze the sensitive skin there, leaving faint welts over the top of your breasts, making you arch your back off the bed with another breathless moan.
"You're so pretty," he mutters against your skin, voice gravelly and breathless. "So fuckin’ perfect for me."
He slides further down your body, stripping away your lace panties as the cool air makes you gasp. He’s on his stomach as he pushes your knees apart, settling himself between your thighs as he whispers something inaudible while you throw your head back into the pillows, swallowing hard. And before you can even process it, Rafe buries his face between your legs, warm tongue sweeping over you in one long stripe.
“Fuck,” you moan into the air, hands fisting into the sheets.
His fingers are digging into your thighs, holding them down as he eats you out with an ungodly, desperate kind of ferocity, sucking firmly on your clit in a way that has you arching off of the bed, trying to fight the way he’s holding your legs apart before he’s sliding two fingers deep inside your slick warmth.
"Rafe—shit—" you’re clutching at the bedsheets, back arching as a hand flies to the top of his head, pressing it further into you.
The man groans against you, the wet, squelching sounds of his tongue and fingers driving you insane. "I could do this for the rest of my life,"
His words do nothing to stop the orgasm you feel building rapidly, muscles tightening around his fingers over and over, and, again, you instinctively try to close your legs around his head, overwhelmed by the sensation of it all—
"Uh-uh," Rafe warns softly, using his shoulders and heavy arms to force your thighs back open, keeping you exposed to him. "Keep ‘em open for me, angel."
Your jaw clenches as you hold back a loud moan, both hands flying down to claw at his hair, feeling the rough texture between your fingers.
"Fuck, keep doin’ that," Rafe pants, the feeling of your nails in his scalp only driving him to tongue you harder, deeper, sucking on your clit until you let out a breathless, broken cry.
And when you finally manage to pull his face up, Rafe slides up your body, capturing your lips in a sloppy, deep kiss, letting you taste your own arousal on his tongue as he slants it against yours.
"Tell me you're mine," Rafe growls lowly against your lips, hand gently resting over the front of your throat, not cutting off your air, but holding you in place.
"I'm yours," you moan breathlessly, eyes slitted, heavy-lidded. "I'm all yours."
Rafe grins, a lazy and breathless expression as he reaches down and unbuttons his pants, shoving them down his legs. But when he takes too long for your impatience, you curse and startle the man as you help, pushing the fabric off and flinging it to the floor before reaching for the waistband of his briefs, wasting no time as you shimmy those down too, freeing his thick, throbbing cock, watching it spring up and point at you—tip red and leaking, veins pulsing.
You stare in entrancement at the sight of him—easily a thick, heavy eight or nine inches, throbbing, rock-hard, and mapped with thick veins. You can't stop yourself from reaching down and wrapping your fingers tightly around him. Rafe lets out a harsh curse, knees buckling slightly as he almost drops his entire weight on top of you, forehead slamming into your shoulder as he pants for air.
Containing himself, he grabs a stray condom off the nightstand, trembling lightly as he tears the wrapper open with his teeth, but before he can roll it on, you snatch it out of his hand and toss it to the floor.
"Don't," you pant, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. "I want you."
Rafe’s eyes blaze at your words. "Fuck..." he growls, lowering his head and kissing you filthy and hard, hand going back to maintaining that firm, gentle grip on your throat as he takes his dick out of your hand, pumping himself a few times before he lines the thick tip of his cock up with your wet entrance.
He slowly, but relentlessly, pushes himself inside, and just the size of him alone stretches you, a sharp, aching warmth filling you. You let out a shaky wince, hands gripping his muscular shoulders, nails scratching at the skin there.
Rafe stops at the way your eyes are glued shut, chest heaving as he holds himself still inside you. "You alright?"
You nod quickly, breath coming in short gasps with your eyes still shut.
"I need to hear it, angel," Rafe demands softly, leaning down to kiss your cheek.
"I'm good... I'm good," you whisper, but as he pushes in another inch, another strained moan escapes your chest.
"Baby, you're crawling up the bed," Rafe pants, noticing your upper body shifting up the pillows and the way your nails are probably drawing blood at this point. "Tell me if you want me to stop—"
"No," you snap in a breathless pant, prying your eyes open to meet his, shifting underneath him. "Just—Don’t stop—Keep going... I can take it." You nod, swallowing.
Rafe lets out a low laugh against your mouth shaking his head. "There's my girl."
He pecks your swollen, wet lips before driving his hips all the way forward in one smooth motion, hoping to ease some of the pain as he bottoms out inside you. It’s overwhelming and it feels like he’s touching the very depths of your core, an aching kind of fullness that makes your vision go spotty as you slam your eyes shut again, screams getting stuck in your throat.
"Look at me," Rafe commands, voice rough and slurred with breathlessness as he holds back his own moans, already sweating above you.
"Gimme a sec..." you groan, squeezing your eyes shut even more as you pulse around him.
"...Open your eyes, baby," he insists softly. "I won't move till you look at me."
You take a deep breath and force your eyes open, meeting his burning gaze.
"Hi, pretty," Rafe whispers, a soft smirk on his lips.
"Hi," you breathe out.
Rafe lowers his gaze then, eyes locked on where the two of you connect as he pulls back slowly, almost all the way out, before plunging back in.
You cry out, arching your back as you tuck your lip between your teeth, but Rafe uses one heavy hand to press down on your stomach, keeping you pressed into the mattress while his other hand gently cups your face.
"Keep your eyes open," Rafe demands, voice broken and panting as he sees your eyes fluttering. "Open and on me."
Your jaw is shut so tight it aches as your eyes dart between his face and the sight of him going in and out, bodies slick, wet friction echoing through the quiet of the Hideaway with every stroke.
"Tell me what you want," Rafe pants, hips setting a steady, relentless pace that’s slowly driving you out of your mind.
But you're too entranced, too overwhelmed by the stretch and the sight of his arms flexing above your head. Rafe laughs at the dazed look in your eyes and lightly taps the side of your cheek, bringing your focus back. "Tell me, angel. What do you want?"
"Faster," you beg, voice slurred and needy.
"...You sure?" he pants.
And you nod frantically, reaching up to yank his head down into a desperate kiss.
That’s all the permission Rafe needs. He slides his hands under your lower back, pulling your hips up into his as he begins to thrust harder and more rapidly, building up the pace with each stroke. The bed frame rattles against the wall and the air in the room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, wet friction, and breathless, broken groans.
Rafe swears into your mouth, pounding into you relentlessly. He ravages every inch of you, flipping you around like it’s nothing.
Before you can catch your breath, Rafe shifts his weight, maneuvering you until he flips you onto your back and pulls you up to sit atop his hips. You look down at him confused, but Rafe’s hands grip your waist, his voice a soft demand. "Ride me.” He pleads, eyes blown. “And look at me while you do it."
Your cheeks burn as you bite your lower lip, slowly lowering yourself down onto him. The width of him stretches you open, a sharp warmth blooming in your core as you take him inch by inch. You gasp, breathing as you pause to adjust to the feeling, but Rafe’s hands immediately guide you—one palm heavy and possessive over your chest, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple, while his other hand digs into the swell of your hip, pressure marks blooming under his grip.
His blue eyes are completely blown out, dark as he looks up at you. "Take it, angel... all the way for me," he rasps, breath hot and ragged against your skin. You roll your hips slowly, the friction echoing between your thighs as you sink down all the way to the base. Rafe lets out an undone groan, thumbs tracing your waist as he helps guide your rhythm, chest heaving. He groans, hands pawing at your chest, palming your breasts and squeezing your ass as you begin to move against him. "Fuck... just like that, baby..." he praises, mesmerized by the sight of you above him. "You look so fuckin' pretty up there... takin' every inch of me. Just like that, keep rollin' those hips for me."
Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, you take control, spinning yourself around until you're facing his legs and all he can see is your back. Rafe lets out a startled, confused sound before his eyes land on the view of your ass arching above him. The sight wrecks him—your spine curved deep, a light sheen of sweat flushing your skin as you hover over him. "Fuck—" he groans as you lower yourself back down on his dick. The heavy, wet slap of skin echoing through the room makes him lose every ounce of his restraint. You slam your hips back, the dirty, wet sound of your combined slick filling the quiet space as the new angle hits a spot so deep inside you that your toes curl and your vision goes hazy.
"God—shit—Rafe—" you whine, broken and needy, arching further down in front of him, forehead pressed into the mattress. Rafe’s hands fly up to clamp onto your hips, thumbs digging into your skin. He lets out a string of slurred curses—"Fuckfuckfuck... shit, baby"—his nails digging into your skin, leaving welts on your ass as he thrusts upward into you, hips bucking up with brutal force. "You're drivin' me fuckin' crazy here," he pants out, slurring his words as he watches your body move.
As he feels his orgasm nearing, Rafe stops your movements, panting as you turn your head, panting, "What's wrong?"
"Nothin', angel," he rasps with a satisfied smirk that you can’t fully see. He shifts behind you, positioning you on all fours on the bed now. Kneeling behind you, he nudges your knees wider apart with his own, pressing both hands onto the small of your back to make you arch further. "Mm... just like that.”
He drives back inside you from behind, the position letting you feel every single inch of him. Every deep thrust hits like a punch to your gut, making the bed frame rattle, loud, wet, squelching sounds echoing through the room as your arousal coats his shaft. “You look fuckin' unreal." And with his words meeting your ears, you're overly vocal now, loudly moaning without restraint, making a mess on the mattress beneath you.
And Rafe is past pussy-drunk, muttering slurred nonsense into your skin as he leans over your back, teeth lightly biting your shoulder while pounding into you hard and deep.
Losing almost all control, he pushes your shoulder blades down, pressing your face into the mattress as he fucks into you. "Fuckfuck—oh God, Rafe—I'm so close—" you pant, cursing hysterically.
"Nuh-uh, look at me," Rafe grunts, threading one heavy arm around your neck, pulling your torso up against his chest while his fingers tilt your chin so you're forced to look at him. His eyes are completely clouded over, bloodshot and dark with lust, face flushed red and undone. Seeing your teary, vulnerable eyes melts him with a dark and sick kind of pride. With one hand holding your jaw, he slides his other hand down, circling your swollen clit.
You shatter, letting out loud, borderline concerning noises as you fall apart, nails scratching desperately at the arm wrapped around your neck while your other hand grips his wrist as he rubs your clit. The spasms of your walls milking him drive Rafe over the edge. He lets you down gently onto the mattress so you don't collapse, hands gripping your hips tightly as he slams himself into your aching, pulsing cunt to chase his own release.
"Where—shit—where d’you want it, angel?" he pants through slurred breath, but you're far too fucked-out to answer, face buried in the sheets.
And Rafe has no choice but to abruptly pull out of you, hot ropes of his sticky cum coating the skin all over your lower back as he moans breathlessly, collapsing beside you, dazed and breathing heavily, pressing tender kisses to your warm skin.
After a few seconds, he gets up and finds a towel to gently wipe the slickness and semen off your back and thighs. "You alright, pretty girl?" he asks softly, tossing the towel.
But you can't even form words, just nodding with a lazy, satisfied smile spread across your face.
Rafe chuckles, finding it adorable, before pulling you up like a ragdoll against him as he pulls the covers over both of your exhausted bodies.
Minutes pass in blissful silence, Rafe tracing shapes against your hot, dewy shoulder blades as you breathe against his chest. The only sound in the room is the sound of your panting dying down and the ocean outside. And as Rafe buries his face in your hair, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head, you find yourself lulling into the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.
next chapter>
THIS might be my personal fav chapter (but im rushing and exhausted, excuse any errors)
warnings: forbidden love trope, enemies to lovers, implied smut, pregnancy, mention of abortion. (not proof read)
summary: your family and the cameron’s have been mortal enemies for as long as anyone can remember. things can change though, especially when you fall into bed and then get knocked up by none other than rafe cameron.
notes: finally finished writing this 😅 put your hand up if you love this trope 🤚🏼 i hope you enjoy my lovelies! don’t forget to reblog 💘🫧
masterlist
The Cameron’s and the Fords have hated each other for as long as you can remember. The feud is the kind that gets whispered about at all the parties and bonfires, meaning unfortunately you are often caught in annoying made up rumours.
You were raised to despise the Cameron’s and Rafe was taught the same about you.
For your whole life you’ve had a vendetta against him, then in just one night everything changed and your entire world was flipped upside down.
You sat on the sand, watching as the waves lapped over each other. It was dark out, you could hear the faint sound of the music coming from the party you’d just left to get some air.
The sound of footsteps in the sand startled you. When you saw it was Rafe you turned back around to face the water.
“I’m not in the mood,” you mumbled.
He just sat next to you in the sand, surprisingly quiet. A content silence fell over the two of you. Both a little drunk, a little tired, tired of pretending, tired of being perfect, tired of carrying the weight of your families choices.
“You ever feel like you can’t breathe here?” he muttered, eyes fixed on the ocean.
You should’ve left. Should’ve thrown another insult his way and walked off like you always did.
But instead, you said, “Every day.”
What followed was something you never saw coming, an honest conversation. About expectations. Pressure. The suffocating weight of being someone’s legacy, instead of being yourself.
For the first time, Rafe Cameron wasn’t the enemy. He was just a guy who got it. Who knew what it was like to feel trapped.
One moment, you were laughing over how messed up your lives were. The next, his hand was on your jaw and your lips were on his.
You pulled away, breathless and in a state of shock. It felt good to be doing something you knew your parents would hate. So when he leaned back in, you didn’t stop him.
The hookup was messy and heated. Months of tension spilling out in one night.
“That was a mistake,” you muttered as you stood to readjust your clothes.
“Agreed.”
——————————
But now…
You sat on your bathroom floor, tears running down your face as you stared at the two positive lines of a pregnancy test.
A million questions were running through your head but the main one… how the hell were you going to tell Rafe Cameron he’s going to be a father?
Ultimately you decided to just give yourself time to think over all of your options and not jump to do anything you might regret.
That time went on for longer than you’d expected. You’d been avoiding Rafe, his friends and anyone in his family like the plague. But by eight weeks you’d made your decision.
You’d keep the baby.
You and Rafe are both twenty, you’re adults and even though this was going to be the hardest few months of your life you knew you would get through it.
——————————
One morning you woke up to a text from your friend, asking if you’d go shopping with her.
You agreed to go. After weeks of throwing up, feeling tired all the time and holding in the biggest secret of your life, a little retail therapy sounded good.
As you browsed your friend rambled about the newest guy she’d been seeing. Usually you were a good listener but today you didn’t really have the energy so you just half listened and added a few half arsed responses every now and then. She didn’t seem to mind though.
“Wow. You look like shit.”
You straighten at the sound of the all too familiar voice of the father of your child as he appeared next to you.
“Leave me alone Rafe,” you muttered, heart pounding in your chest.
He leaned in closer and spoke so only you could hear, “we need to talk.”
“No we don’t.”
“Please?” He begrudgingly asked through gritted teeth.
You let out a deep sigh. Rafe wasn’t the type to give in without a fight so it was better to just let him say what he wanted to say.
He lead you outside and around to the side of the store, where you could talk without prying eyes.
“Go on then,” you prompted, leaning against the cool brick wall.
You noticed the tic of his jaw before he spoke. “Just tell me. Are you… pregnant?”
Your heart skipped a beat. “How did you…?”
“Is it mine?”
You blinked and then eventually nodded.
Rafe could barely look at you.
“Don’t worry,” he grumbled, “no one else knows. Your secrets not out. I figured when you were avoiding me it was just because of the night on the beach,” he paused for a second, “but then, I saw you a few weeks ago in town… buying the test. You didn’t see me but I saw it in your hand. I knew it was yours by the look on your face.”
“God. Just my luck,” you muttered under your breath, though he heard.
“I was waiting for you to talk to me but you never did. Were you ever going to?”
“What? Of course Rafe. You’re the father, I just,” you took a deep breath, “I’m terrified okay? We’ve been brought up to hate each other, we barely know each other, I think my parents might disown me when they find out-”
“Hey,” he stopped your spiralling, voice surprisingly soft. You’d never seen this side of Rafe before. Hesitantly, he placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Calm down. Forget about all that shit, we need to talk properly first. About this whole mess. I know a place, I’ll come back here at seven to pick you up? Don’t want to risk going anywhere near your house.”
You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
——————————
So there you stood. Seven o’clock on the dot in the car park waiting for Rafe. The breeze nipped at your bare legs as you impatiently shuffled around.
Eventually his car pulled up, right next to you. He leaned over in his seat to open the passenger side for you.
“Hey,” you said quietly as you slid in and clicked your seatbelt on.
“You good?” He asked, hands on the wheel.
You nodded in response before he started the car and took off.
Around fifteen minutes of an awkward silence later you pulled up at the very edge of outer banks, where you could get the best views.
The both of you got out and walked to the bench at the edge of the small cliff, overlooking the lapping waves below.
“So,” Rafe began, “you’re… keeping it then?”
You sighed quietly as you continued to stare ahead.
“I guess so,” you responded after a beat.
Rafe’s hand ran over his short hair as he processed your decision.
Eventually, he broke the tense silence. “I’m not going to be a deadbeat. I’m sure you expected me to run off and want nothing to do with you and that’s why you didn’t tell me but-”
“I didn’t tell you because I haven’t told anyone, I’ve been too overwhelmed to even think about it,” you interrupted him.
He shuffled an inch closer to you, not touching, not suffocating, just… there.
You sat in a comfortable silence for a little while as the both of you watched the waves and the setting sun.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there but eventually you got back into his car and he drove you back to the car park that was now your designated meeting point.
“You gonna be okay?” He asked as you slipped out of the car.
You nodded slowly.
“Call me if you need anything,” he told you before driving off.
——————————
two weeks later…
You and Rafe had spoken just a few times since the day he found out.
Honestly, you’d been avoiding him.
The pressure of anyone finding out, specifically your parents, was really weighing on you.
You knew that you were going to have to book an appointment at some point and so you just bit the bullet and called the hospital.
A date was set and after thinking on it for a little while you decided to call Rafe.
“Hey, everything okay?” He asked after answering almost immediately.
“Yeah. I just booked an appointment… and I was thought I should ask if you wanted to be there? Obviously you don’t have to I just-”
“I’ll be there,” he said firmly, “…if you want me there?”
You were surprised at the relief you felt.
“I do,” you replied softly.
He smiled. “Okay, send me the date and time.”
——————————
Five days later Rafe picked you up from your meeting point and drove the two of you to your appointment.
You went in through the back entrance to be as discreet as possible. Everyone knows everyone in the outer banks and you really didn’t want to risk getting caught.
A nurse took you into a private room and told you the doctor would be with you soon.
You sat on the bed nervously picking at your fingers. Rafe sat opposite you, leaning forward, looking at the ground with a tenseness that just made you feel worse.
Suddenly the door burst open and a woman with a kind face walked in. Her shoes squeaked slightly as she approached you.
“You must be y/n?” She shook your clammy palm as you nodded.
She turned to Rafe’s direction. “And this is…?”
“He’s the father.” “The father.” You both blurted out at the same time.
She smiled. “Alright then. Shall we get started?”
The appointment began with a long list of questions, ranging from how far along I thought I was to if I was currently sexually active, to which I replied no, avoiding all eye contact with Rafe.
When she started asking about your symptoms you expressed how sick you felt in the morning and how nauseous you were throughout the day, which Rafe listened to and felt a pang of guilt.
“Okay, that was the last question. Now would you like me to do an ultrasound?” She asked, already wheeling the machine over.
You nodded and so she asked you to lift your shirt up.
Your stomach was thankfully just as it always looked and you were hoping it’d stay that way for as long as possible.
“And… here’s your baby.”
Rafe finally looked up, his eyes fixed to the screen where she pointed to the tiny little blob.
“Is it okay?” You asked, a lump forming in your throat.
“Perfect. Measuring just as you’d said, nine weeks,” she replied softly.
Rafe stood, slowly making his way over to you.
You glanced his way, he was already looking at you, his eyes soft.
“Here’s baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor spoke just before a whooshing sound filled the room.
You cracked a smile, feeling a sense of calm for the first time in two months.
After filling out some paperwork and being given some prenatal vitamins along with two copies of the ultrasound you were free to go home.
The two of you sat in Rafe’s car in silence on the way back to the parking lot.
Once he’d parked up and the engine fell silent you weren’t sure what to say.
“How long until we can’t hide it?” Rafe eventually asked.
We.
You still couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Maybe two months,” you replied quietly.
“y/n? look at me.”
You turned your head, revealing the tears brimming at your waterline. In the last few weeks you’ve shed many tears, just not in front of anyone.
He reached forward and grasped your chin with his fingers, without thinking you lent into his touch.
“Hey… tell me.”
“That just made it all so real. I’ve been trying to pretend none of this was happening, but it is and I feel like I’m all on my own,” you admitted as tears began staining your cheeks.
He shifted in his seat.
“You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around, as long as you want me around. You’re carrying my kid y/n, I don’t care about our families stupid fucking feud, I only care about you.”
Your heart clenched in your chest. “You’re really not the guy I thought you were Rafe, I’m glad.”
“We’re family now. And we’ve got two months to figure this out.”
——————————
Rafe kept to his word. He checked in on you every day and you even secretly met up a few times at the cliff where he let you complain and cry, since he’s the only person you can talk to about this situation.
The next two months were filled with sneaking out, anxiety and wearing sweaters. The further along you got the harder it was becoming to hide.
One morning you woke up to the sound of your parents arguing downstairs.
You rubbed your tired eyes and sat up, glancing out at the morning rain that beat down against your window, something that was rare in the obx.
Looking over you spotted the hoodie that you’ve been sleeping in -just in case- in a pile on the floor. You must’ve taken it off in the middle of the night.
After pulling it back on you headed downstairs. The shouting had quieted down and if you didn’t get food within the next ten minutes you’d be nauseous for the rest of the morning.
The air was weird, tense, as you walked into the kitchen. Both of your parents sat at the table, stern looks on their faces.
You were about to turn back around and get out of there before your father called you to sit down.
Hesitantly you did, heart beating out of your chest.
“How long have you been lying to us y/n?” He asked through gritted teeth.
“What?” Your eyes widened.
He slammed his hand down on the table, making your body jolt.
“Who was it? Who knocked you up?”
You felt like you were in a movie. Your ears rang, the room grew suffocating. He knew.
“Dad please, I’m sorry I-” you stumbled over your words, looking over at your mother who just sat there sheepishly, not able to make eye contact with you.
He stood up abruptly, clearly seething as he swiped a hand over his mouth.
“Your mother walked into your room this morning to find you-” he hesitated, “as you are. How long were you going to hide this from us y/n?”
You looked down at your lap. “I- I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Have you been to a doctor yet?” He questioned.
You nodded.
“How far along are you?” Your mother finally spoke.
You looked up at her, eyes pleading. “Just over four months,” you replied cautiously.
A noise came from her mouth, a mix of a sob and a gasp.
“You need to get out,” your father pointed to the door.
“Are you kicking me out?” You asked, eyes filling with tears.
Your mother muttered his name, she knew it was wrong, she just didn’t have the courage to stand up against him.
“Just go. For- until I can figure out what to do with you.”
You pushed your seat back and stood up. “I’m twenty dad. Not sixteen. You don’t have to figure out what to do with me, I’ll make the decision for you,” you told him before leaving and going back upstairs to pack a bag.
——————————
Clutching your bag in one hand and your phone in the other you called the only person who you knew would come, Rafe.
He was meeting you at your spot within ten minutes, quickly getting out and racing over to you.
He grasped your wet hoodie covered shoulders, his shirt beginning to stick to his chest as the rain soaked him.
After taking your bag he ushered you over to the passenger seat of his car, opening the door and then helping you in.
The loud silence in the car once he got in was intense.
“They know,” you stated quietly.
He nodded, jaw tense.
You shivered, he looked over and held his gaze for a moment before starting the car and driving off, heat blasting.
He parked up outside one of the nicer hotels in figure 8.
“You’ll stay here.”
“Rafe, I don’t have any-” you began before he cut you off.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, not showing off, just trying to help, fix the situation.
He walked in with you and got you a room, then he went up with you, acting like your professional escort.
After placing your bag in front of the bed he awkwardly turned around to you.
“Thank you. I really don’t know where I would’ve gone.”
He nodded. “It’s the least I can do, your parents never would’ve kicked you out if it wasn’t for me.”
You hummed. “They don’t know who the father is. I would rather it stay that way, so we only have to worry about one set of parents. And you can keep your credibility for longer.”
He stepped towards you, slowly, cautiously, intertwining both of his hands with yours.
You looked up at him, surprised, confused and yet a little relieved.
“I don’t care about my parents, or what people think of me. You know I care about you. I’ve actually,” he hesitated, “never cared about two people more than I do you and this kid,” he admitted.
“You’re a changed man Rafe Cameron,” you muttered with a watery smile.
“You’ve changed me,” he whispered.
Your breaths simultaneously caught in your throats, before your lips crashed into each other’s.
The kiss was tender, filled with all the past resentment as you poured into each other.
His hands remained respectfully on your waist, hand grazing the small bump under your hoodie. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him in deeper.
Once you pulled away he kept you there for a second, foreheads pressing together before parting.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
You looked into his eyes. “You have nothing to apologise for Rafe.”
“That just changed everything.”
You shifted your hand up to his cheek. “Whys that a bad thing? Hmm? We’re literally having a child together.”
He sighed and then nodded in agreement.
“I’ve gotta go,” he told you before stepping towards the door, “call me if you need anything.”
And then he was gone, leaving you confused and with looming anxiety in your chest.
let me know if you guys want a part two!! i’m sorry for my lack of posting recently but i wanted to finish this for u all before season five comes out! 💘😋
summary: after finding out that your fiancé had cheated on you with his childhood best friend—who just so happened to be Rafe's fiancée— Rafe proposes a reckless plan: follow them across Italy and Greece and ruin the dream honeymoon they stole. but somewhere between petty sabotage, breathtaking views, and far too much time together, the two of you begin to discover there's more waiting for you than revenge.
content warning: strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, one bed, sexual tension, explicit sexual content (handjob - kinda?, teasing), a little bit of self deprecation (don't you ever do it to yourselves though) 18+ MDNI
w/c: 10.2K
a/n: you all have every right to be upset for me going MIA, unfortunately being a girlie working in finance is v tough :( thank you all so much for the love you show to this series though, you genuinely have every piece of my heart!
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previous
The blue hues of the water and the sea, contrasting against the white buildings in Santorini, were almost too good to be real; like, with a blink of an eye, they’d be gone, and you’d be back standing in your apartment. You weren’t sure what you might’ve wished for to your lucky stars, but it’d become a habit to glance up at them every night, silently thanking them for what your life was right now. Every sight you’d seen, every step taken that felt lighter than the last, every breath of fresh air that didn’t feel as suffocating as before-it was all new and exciting.
Despite Rafe saying everything after that night you’d shared in bed, it was almost as if you’d both gotten closer and more comfortable. The feeling of no barriers between you two and a sense of stability that centred every conversation became the forefront of every interaction. The permanently locked jaw Rafe sported had almost completely disappeared, his demeanour more at ease as a whole when he was around you.
Even if you still caught yourself imagining a version of your lives where you were no longer just the people whose exes got together, but the people who'd somehow found each other instead, you kept the thought tucked away. Having Rafe beside you, unchanged, was infinitely easier than watching another person you cared for become a stranger. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be between you and him. Maybe this was better to avoid any complications because of how flawed you both were. Maybe, just maybe, you were meant to have your European summer trip to finally find a man abroad and have a one-night stand they talk about in the movies and see why they’re so infamous.
On the other hand, Rafe wished he could take a time machine and go back to that morning on the Hike of the Gods and smack the shit out of himself, or even just tell him to shut up or say literally anything else. Telling you that the night before had been out of pent-up frustration was the complete opposite of what he’d felt, especially how bitter the words tasted coming out of his mouth. The truth was, Rafe wasn't used to things affecting him the way you did. Most of his life had been spent pretending nothing really got under his skin. People came and went, relationships started and ended, and somehow he'd always managed to walk away relatively unchanged under the pretense that he’d be alright. Then somehow there was you, and for the first time in a long time, things mattered.
He'd caught himself looking forward to seeing you every morning and stretching out conversations that should've ended ten minutes earlier. The stupid roadside café where you'd forced him to try pastries he couldn't pronounce, or the way you'd point at stray cats on every island like you'd seen them for the first time. The sound of your laugh carrying down narrow streets whenever he deadpanned something you weren't supposed to find funny. More than that, he'd realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this comfortable around someone. There was no pressure to be entertaining or impressive, no version of himself he had to maintain. Being with you was easy, and that scared him more than he cared to admit.
That night mattered too, not because of the sex, not because he'd been lonely, not because he had moved on from Charlotte. It mattered because he'd never experienced anything quite like it before, the feeling that he didn't have to perform some version of himself to keep someone's attention, the way your eyes had more admiration than lust as he continued to thrust into you. He remembered lying awake long after you'd fallen asleep beside him, staring at the ceiling and realizing he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt genuinely happy without waiting for the feeling to disappear.
That was what terrified him.
You.
The fact that he was starting to want more, or maybe he already did.
The ferry ride to Santorini was crowded enough that personal space was practically nonexistent at this point with how everyone was trying to get a spot against the railing. Not that either of you seemed particularly bothered, especially not when it was another excuse to have his skin pressed against yours.
"Move your giant ass head," you complained, trying to angle your phone toward the sea behind you.
"My head is normal-sized."
"It absolutely isn't," you chuckled, bringing your hand up to softly pat it. “Look at this thing; it’s huge, just like your pride.”
"Don’t make me throw you into the water, kid."
"Woah, how’d we go from angel to kid?” You fake-pouted. “Besides, it's blocking half the Aegean." Rafe rolled his eyes but leaned closer anyway, bringing his head close enough that part of him wished you couldn’t hear how deep his breaths were to control himself. The second he did, your shoulders bumped together, and you stayed there.
The sunlight reflected across the water as you extended your arm for another photo.
"Smile."
"I'm smiling."
"You look like you're having to sit in on a meeting."
"I don't smile on command."
"You literally are right now."
"Delete that."
"No chance." You laughed as the photo snapped. When you looked down to review it, neither of you immediately looked away from the screen. The picture was slightly blurry from the ferry moving beneath you, your hair blowing across your face while Rafe looked annoyingly handsome despite doing absolutely nothing. Both of you looked happy to be there, like this was meant to happen without the backstory.
It hadn’t even occurred to you both that the hotel reservation was for Ethan and Charlotte until you checked in, when the receptionist smiled warmly and slid two key cards across the marble desk.
"Congratulations again on your honeymoon."
Except, neither of you turned to look at each other out of discomfort, nor were you quick to correct the misinterpretation. You just took the keys with a polite nod and left before it was too late, and you’d be caught. By the time the elevator reached the top floor, the corners of Rafe's mouth were already twitching.
"I'm startin' to think we've committed enough identity fraud t'land us in a Greek prison."
"Oh please," you snorted. "We've come too far to develop a moral compass now."
The moment the heavy carved wooden door swept open to reveal the suite, your jaw nearly dropped. The room hung suspended over the volcanic caldera, whitewashed stone walls giving way to high vaulted ceilings, a massive king-sized bed draped in sheer white linen, and floor-to-ceiling glass doors opening directly onto a private infinity pool that seemed to spill straight into the Aegean Sea.
"You've got to be kidding me," Rafe muttered, stepping past you and tossing his duffel bag onto the polished concrete floor. He walked out onto the private terrace, resting his hands on the stone railing as he looked out at the panoramic view of Oia. A low, disbelieving whistle escaped his lips. "I actually paid for this?"
“This is insane,” you exclaimed as you walked up next to him, taking in the view as your fingers brushed over the smooth limestone walls. The breeze smelled faintly of salt and jasmine, a comforting scent that couldn’t be found anywhere else.
"I don't think I've ever seen anything this pretty," you whispered, making Rafe think to himself of all the ways he could keep you awestruck, to make the rest of your experience a memorable one, to show you how you deserved the world. It was rewarding to see you appreciate every little thing as the trip went on; contrary to the consistent overachieving that Rafe had to do before, the rush made his body warm with excitement.
“Y’know,” Rafe dryly chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I would've spent the first twenty minutes wonderin' if Charlotte liked it enough. Wouldn't've even looked at the damn view until she did.”
You looked over your shoulder. "And you?"
He shrugged. "I would've waited."
"For what?" His eyes met yours, the blue in them holding the bittersweet emotions of the past that Rafe had let happen over time.
"For her to tell me it was good enough."
As he said them, something inside your chest softened, like the vulnerability of his need to be perfect and gain approval to let himself breathe took over his will to just be. Throughout the duration of your relationship with Ethan, Charlotte truly seemed like an angel herself with the poise and grace she carried herself in. Even her relationship with Rafe had looked like they’d loved each other the way they used to in old stories, despite only ever seeing what happened on the surface level.
She'd always smiled so effortlessly, remembered everyone's birthdays, always followed up with you on your parents’ death anniversary, and somehow managed to make every room feel lighter the moment she stepped into it. You'd mistaken kindness for goodness, never realizing that someone could be gentle with you while quietly being cruel to someone else. Hearing everything Rafe had carried in silence made you wonder how many times she'd watched him chase her approval the same way he'd spent his whole life chasing Ward's, and whether she'd ever once reached back.
Then it hit you.
“Rafe, the itinerary!”
“Huh?”
“Wait just- Wait!” You ran to find the same manila folder, found tucked neatly into the pocket of Rafe’s suitcase. The crisp pages ran under your fingertips, the small gust of air blowing onto you as you searched for the right one. Your eyes lingered on one page before something unexpectedly mischievous curled at the corners of your mouth. “A-ha!”
Rafe, on the other hand, felt a sudden rush of panic and pride as he watched you dial a number on your phone, pacing around the room with the page in the other hand. It wasn’t like you to take the lead like that, especially not when you’d shown Rafe how hesitant you were sometimes due to the constraints you’d become accustomed to.
"Good afternoon," you greeted sweetly once someone answered. "Hi! I actually had a tiny request." Rafe raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, it's under Cameron. We wanted to gift a mud spa treatment to one of our… friends…" The word made you want to gag at the idea of still calling Ethan your friend, or anything of that liking for that matter. “For sure, I can give you a credit card.”
It wasn’t long until you’d ended the call, only to find Rafe’s arms crossed over his chest with a questioning look on his face, his blue eyes narrowing slightly at the mischievous glint in yours. “Care to explain?”
"You see, Charlotte booked a luxury spa afternoon at the volcanic springs near the old port." You tilted the page toward him. "But did you know that the spa offers an optional three-hour volcanic mud wrap and sulphur detox?"
“Okay? I don’t get it.”
“Well, see, Charlotte hates mud, which you’d know because you were engaged to her and all,” Rafe bit his tongue at the mention of that. He had no idea she hated mud, which made him feel guilty that they’d been planning on tying the knot. For a second, he wondered if he’d been the only negligent one in the relationship while trying to chase the approval he’d spent his entire life thinking he needed, if Charlotte had known what had irked him or if he’d done enough to conceal it.
You continued, “So I did a little swapsies, and now we get a spa while they have to deal with being caked in it for three hours. And it’s all on Ethan’s dime!”
“You fucking minx, I’ve been calling you an angel when you can pull this shit? And you have his credit card memorized?” Rafe mused.
“What can I say? My fake husband taught me well.” The smirk on your face matched his, making your heart warm when he shook his head in fake annoyance. Rafe mused, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes lingered on yours, a strange, warm heat flaring in his gaze. "I kinda like it."
By the time the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of violet, peach, and burning gold, you were dressed up for dinner. The reservation was at an open-air restaurant carved directly into the high cliffs of Oia—a place with a six-month waiting list that Charlotte had spent weeks talking Rafe’s ear off about securing.
Sitting at a private, candlelit table overlooking the darkened expanse of the Aegean Sea, it was impossible not to feel the sheer, surreal weight of how much things had changed. Dinners had also become easier; now a routine where there was once silence had become warm, lighthearted, and an opportunity for you to claw onto whatever Rafe told you - any way to get closer to him that he allowed.
Rafe sat across from you in a crisp, dark linen shirt with the top few buttons undone, the warm glow of the candlelight catching the sharp angles of his jawline and the clear blue of his eyes. It was hard not to get distracted by the sheen of his chest, one that you’d found yourself remembering how it felt under your fingertips from that night. The defensive, volatile energy he usually carried had completely melted away, replaced by an easy, grounded presence that made your pulse do quiet, fluttering gymnastics in your chest.
"To stolen reservations," Rafe said, raising his wine glass toward you with a subtle smirk.
"To stolen reservations," you clinked your glass against his, taking a slow sip. As the courses came and went, the petty thrill of getting back at your exes naturally faded into the background, giving way to a conversation that felt deeper and lighter all at once. You talked about stupid childhood memories, the pressure of growing up in small towns where everyone knew your business, and the quiet relief of finally being somewhere nobody knew your names.
"You know," Rafe spoke up softly, resting his forearms on the white tablecloth as he looked at you. "You're really different than when we first got on that plane."
You tilted your head, swirling the deep red wine in your glass. "Different how?"
"Y'don't shrink yourself anymore," he said quietly, his gravelly voice carrying a rare, unshielded sincerity. "When we were back home, whenever Ethan was around, it was like you were always trying to make yourself smaller. Like you were constantly apologizing just for taking up space in the room. But now..." He paused, his gaze holding yours with a steady, heavy intensity. "Y'talk back. You make fun of me. You look like you're actually yourself."
Your chest tightened, a soft, fluttering ache settling deep behind your ribs at his words. "I think I was just tired of trying to be someone's shadow," you admitted quietly. "It gets exhausting after a while."
Rafe nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to his glass for a second before he let out a short, bitter breath. "Yeah. I know the feeling." He leaned back against his chair, his fingers tracing the edge of his glass as he looked out toward the dark horizon of the sea. "I don't think I ever told you how I actually met Charlotte."
You shook your head softly. "No, you didn't. I know she said something to me about same groups or whatever when you first got together, but that’s about it."
"It wasn't some romantic bullshit," Rafe muttered, a self-deprecating smile twisting his lips. "I was nineteen. At some stupid, overpriced house party over at my buddy’s at Figure 8. I was high out of my mind off coke, drinking straight out of the bottle, kinda just looking for anything to numb the noise in my head after getting into a massive fight with my dad." He rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw tightening slightly at the memory. "She was just... there. She looked hot enough, had the right last name that’d look good next to mine, and she didn't care what I was doing as long as I bought the drinks and looked good on her arm."
He looked back at you, his blue eyes surprisingly honest under the warm restaurant lights. "Our entire start was built on drugs, and pretending to be people we weren't. For years, I thought that was just how it worked. You find someone who looks good on paper, you perform for each other, and you deal with the mess in private. Or just not at all."
Rafe swallowed hard, his voice dropping into a register so low and quiet it felt like a secret meant only for you. "I wish I'd met someone organically," he murmured, his gaze searching your face with a quiet ache, heart thumping as he delved further into an unknown territory he hadn’t known he’d wandered into himself. "Y'know? No fucked up party, no drugs, no performative bullshit. Just... meeting someone who sees you when you're not trying to prove a damn thing."
“It’s never too late, Rafe,” you softly reminded him, though secretly, you wanted to think that you both met that way, even though the circumstances that led you to where you both were now said otherwise. Rafe, hummed, nodding as if he’d agreed even though all he that played in his head was if it’d even be possible given the person he showed to the world. “Yeah, I guess.”
The ocean breeze rustled softly through the open-air terrace, blowing a stray strand of hair across your cheek. Before you could stop the sudden, frantic beating of your heart, Rafe reached across the small wooden table. His large, warm hand was hesitant for a fraction of a second before his calloused fingers gently brushed against your skin, tucking the loose strand behind your ear. His thumb lingered against the soft curve of your jawline, warm and steady, sending an electric shiver straight down your spine.
He didn't pull his hand away immediately. His thumb traced the line of your cheekbone once, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made the rest of the crowded restaurant fade into absolute static.
"Much better," he whispered, his voice thick and rough as he finally let his hand fall back to the table, though his eyes never left yours. When dinner ended, neither of you wanted to go back to the villa just yet.
The narrow, winding stone paths were quiet now, bathed in the soft, golden glow of street lanterns mounted against whitewashed walls. The daytime crowds had vanished, leaving the romantic, winding alleys empty beneath a night sky overflowing with stars. As you stepped out onto the cobblestones, the cool night air brushed against your shoulders. Rafe adjusted his stride, slowing down until his shoulder bumped gently against yours. Without saying a word, he reached down. His long fingers brushed against your wrist before slipping smoothly into your hand, wrapping around your palm with a warm, possessive certainty.
You didn't hesitate, basking in the warmth he offered. You squeezed his hand back, resting your thumb against the back of his knuckles as you stepped just a little closer to his side. It felt natural, as if your hand fitting in his was made just to be, the lines on your palms aligning with one another.
As the two of you walked hand in hand through the glowing streets of Santorini, the gentle sound of the sea echoing from the cliffs below, you looked up at the stars glittering above the water. For the first time in your life, you weren't thinking about anything else at all.
You were just right here, existing, with his hand wrapped firmly in yours.
Oh, how you wished it would always be like this.
Catching the cruise while avoiding both exes hadn’t been a problem for Rafe anymore; it was trying to stay on track without continuously ruining their trip, which had gotten increasingly harder as he spent more and more time with you. It’d barely registered to him that you both would have to do anything until you asked about the itinerary the next morning, his face fully buried into the nook of your neck, completely enveloping you with his body like a second blanket, as he groaned about having to get out of bed.
It didn’t make sense at first, waking up to the smell of his woodsy body wash as his breathing accompanied the slight chirps of birds in the morning. The way it was all so casual made your breath hitch, before you relaxed and leaned your back into him in case the moment ended before you could even savour it. Ethan had rarely done this with you, spooning you in the morning, when instead he’d wake you up at the crack of dawn to start the day, claiming that it was peak hours to get your run in. Rafe, on the other hand, could recall how he could never find himself wanting to do such but rather, found it repulsive to do with someone who barely wanted to hold is hand as is.
After missing the cruise that they had booked, Rafe had taken matters into his own hands, throwing down a ridiculous amount of cash to book a private catamaran that would reach Ethan and Charlotte’s ship at the island cove.
Catching up to them had been the original plan, but sitting on the open deck as the boat cut through the deep Aegean blue, keeping his mind on petty revenge was becoming a losing battle. The bitter obsession that usually drove him was being steadily crowded out by the quiet, dangerous way you were taking over his entire head. The wind out on the open sea was relentless, pulling strands of your hair loose from where you’d tied it back and sending them dancing across your cheeks.
You were leaning over the salt-crusted wooden railing near the bow, laughing as the salty spray splashed against the hull. The ocean wind caught your hair, blowing loose strands across your face in a soft, sun-lit halo, and Rafe felt a sudden, heavy kick against his ribs. He stood a few feet back, his jaw tightening as he took you in—the natural glow of your sun-warmed skin, the unbothered curve of your mouth, the sound of your laugh carrying over the roar of the engine as you tried to explain a boating trip gone wrong with your cousins.
Rafe stood half a step behind you at the railing, one heavy arm casually resting along the wooden edge, his hand lightly cupping the side of your waist to anchor you against the motion of the boat. When the bright midday sun broke through the clouds, illuminating the warm tones in your skin, Rafe’s breath caught square in his throat. He thought you were the most breathtaking thing he’d ever laid eyes on. It scared the hell out of him how completely you undid him, how easily a single glance from you could make him forget the spite, the anger, or the whole reason they’d gotten on a boat in the first place.
When the catamaran finally anchored in the secluded, crystal-clear bay, within minutes, you were looking over the turquoise water, completely captivated by the vibrant reefs showing themselves from below. For a moment, you wished you could take a picture of this moment to show it to your parents, wanting them to see that you’d miraculously gotten to snorkel in this lifetime with someone who’d brought out the best in you, someone who your heart called out for more and more as the days went on.
You stepped near the water’s edge, untying the light linen cover-up you were wearing and tossing it onto a nearby chair on the boat before getting off. Beneath it was one of the many bikinis Sage had thrown in your suitcase as you were packing, the lack of fabric being anything but what you’d been used to. It did feel freeing to wear something that Ethan had never gotten to see, even more so to start exploring who you were yourself, except for the buildup of nervous energy in your gut as you approached a new territory for yourself.
As he was approaching beside you, Rafe stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes dragged slowly down the exposed curve of your waist, the smooth line of your hips, and the flush on your chest. His breath hitched, his jaw locking up tightly as his dark blue eyes turned completely dark. It’d been one thing to see you bare in the moonlight between the privacy that the four walls in the hotel provided, but seeing you like this out in the open made his head spin.
Before Rafe could even find his voice, a tall, sun-kissed-skinned guy walking by took notice of you in your lonesome. Smirking, the guy stepped toward you, running a hand through his damp buzz. “Hey,” he purred, eyeing you up and down in a way that felt more friendly than usual. “Not from here, are you?”
“Oh, no. Just visiting.”
“I knew it! No one here had ever had the same beauty as you do.” You awkwardly chuckle at his half-hearted attempt at flirting with you, the nervousness in you bouncing off the walls at this point. This was your chance to try and move on, to get any and all remaining hope of being with Rafe out of your head. Hooking up with someone on vacation who hadn’t basically turned you down would be the perfect way to get it out of your system. Except, you couldn’t.
“Oh god no, I- That’s really kind of you but—” You shook your head quickly, finally finding the courage to pull away.
“And you’re humble too, my mother would love you! I would be stupid not to take you out to dinner after.” He interjected. Before you could even blink, a heavy, warm arm wrapped around your bare waist, pulling you firmly against a broad, hard chest. Rafe towered over the guy, his fingers digging possessively into your hip as a low growl rattled in his throat.
“Is there a reason you’re gettin’ too cozy with my wife now?” Rafe deadpanned, his tone so icy it could freeze over the Mediterranean. The man raised his hands in defence, “Couldn’t help but fall for her while she’s standing all nice and pretty in the sunlight. Don’t blame me!”
“Then don’t blame me when I give you a reason to,” He snarked back, making the man back off immediately with an apologetic murmur before walking away. You looked up at Rafe, your heart hammering against your ribs from his proximity while you felt the heat rise between your legs.
“You were quick to scare him away,” you noted. Rafe scoffed, “Did you want to hook up with him?”
“Depends, would you be okay with staying outside of the hotel room?”
“Cute, real cute, angel.” Taking a step closer, he tilted his head, eyes narrowing in on you as he took in the sight of you. "You think that's funny?"
“No, I’m being serious.” You mused, smirking at the sudden change in his demeanour that let you know that you got him.
"If you wanted him, you should've gone with him when you had the chance." The words came out sharp, but the way his hand settled on your waist betrayed him. The soft touch of your skin under his palm felt too good to pull away, knowing a faint mark of a handprint would be left behind to show everyone that you were with him. "But you didn't."
Rafe's gaze flickered over your face before he smirked, annoyed more than amused. "And let's be honest, angel, no one would know what you’re really into like I do." With that, you stood dumbfounded as Rafe looked away, his hand still firm on your waist. The world spun under your feet, his brace being the only thing to ground you as you pondered if Rafe was acknowledging that night, and if it meant more than he led on.
That was, until Rafe spotted just across the beach, Ethan and Charlotte wading into the shallows, leaving their towels and dry bags unguarded on a pair of lounge chairs near the water's edge.
"C’mon," Rafe murmured, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes with a familiar, dark glint returning to his gaze. “Let’s go swimming.”
You both walked towards the water, trying to look as discreet as possible when you passed by Ethan's belongings, though Rafe didn't even pause to see whether anyone was looking. He reached straight into Ethan’s open bag, snagged his phone, and pocketed it in his swim shorts. Realizing it was the only payback his exhausted brain could pull off on the fly, Rafe figured he might as well double down. He reached back into the bag and pulled out Ethan's leather wallet.
As you got further into the water, Rafe held out the phone towards you. “You do the honours.”
Plucking the metal from his hands, you looked to find the wallpaper looking at you, making your heart drop. It’d been from the night you’d gotten engaged, your hand still in the frame while the rest of you was cropped out to solely show Ethan and Charlotte. Even in the cool water, the rage and hurt burned inside to think that he had the audacity to take the one night that meant the most to you and find a way to focus it all on her. The longer their smiles looked at you, the more your heart closed in on itself, not because it hurt to see them, but because it hurt to know you’d lost so much of yourself to someone who hadn’t given you a second thought.
Without hesitation, you plunged it straight into the salt water, holding it under until the screen flickered violently and went entirely black. At the same time, Rafe plucked out the credit cards from their slots and bent them in half before dropping them into the water, watching it sink straight into the dark blue depths below.
“Next time, he better think before he fucks someone on a trip I paid for.”
“I know you’re good at this, but what if he notices-” It had only occurred to you now that if things went south now, you’d be outed and forced to see him face to face after weeks of not seeing Ethan. Without a second word, Rafe took the phone from your hand before handing it off to a child passing by.
He swam over to you, his smile only widening as he saw your jaw drop at what he’d done. It was cute seeing you constantly get shocked at what he did. Rafe reached out under the surface, wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. He looked down at you, his blue eyes softening completely as he tucked a wet lock of hair behind your ear.
"There," he muttered, his thumb resting warm against your hip underwater. "Now stop worrying about them and come here." As the water swished around your bodies, the world around you began to fade away again, the only focus becoming Rafe. Your fingers found their way to his scalp, running through the small strands as Rafe tried to hold himself back from letting the blood flow down his member, but to no avail.
“Greece looks good on you,” You proclaimed.
“Yeah? Seems like we gotta stay here then.”
“We?”
“Yeah, we. Who else am I going to put up with?” He briefly glanced towards the beach, where he spotted the same guy from earlier, while seeing Ethan and Charlotte being completely engrossed in each other. This time, though, he felt more irritated at the guy who hit on you instead of the two, feeling jealousy about what would happen if you’d gone home with him tonight. “You telling me you want that prick to be the one who shows you what you were missing out on in life?”
“Pretty sure that belongs to you, Rafe.”
“Yeah?” He smirked, though his voice was soft. The corner of his mouth pulled upward, but there was no bite to it this time. Just disbelief, like he couldn't quite figure out how you'd managed to sneak past every wall he'd spent years building. “You’re damn right.”
Before you could even roll your eyes, a sheet of water hit you square in the face, snapping you out of whatever intimate trance you’d both been in seconds before. You sputtered, "Rafe!"
His laugh rang out across the shallows, loud and genuine. "Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. He was already backing away through the water, hands raised in mock surrender. "What happened? Big wave?"
You stared at him with a mix of disbelief and reluctant laughter, then scooped up a handful of water and launched it straight at his chest. The grin vanished from his face for all of half a second.
"Oh, we're doing that?"
"You started it."
“And you’re-Hey!” Another splash, louder and a lot bigger this time, was sent his way. He caught most of it with his shoulder, but enough reached his face that he blinked rapidly, shaking water from his hair as you laughed and turned to swim away. “You're dead."
Behind you came the sound of Rafe crashing through the water. "Rafe Cameron, don't you dare."
"Too late." Another wall of water hit your back, the slight sting of the impact contrasting with the coolness of the water. You retaliated instantly, both of you laughing now, neither bothering to keep score. Every time you landed a hit, his smile widened. Every time he managed to soak you, he looked entirely too pleased with himself.
To you, it seemed like you managed to crack the shell that Rafe had over himself. Someone who was free to be someone he hadn’t even gotten the chance to be openly. Someone you wished you had around more often, even if it were just as friends.
Friends.
That was how low you were willing to settle for Rafe to stick around, so that you could keep reliving the rush of euphoria that these moments gave. Then his hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist.
"There you are." A surprised laugh escaped you as he tugged you toward him. "Rafe, no-"
It was too late when he hooked an arm around your waist and lifted you clean out of the water, making you let out a startled yelp. The world blurred together, the ocean and sky melting into one another as he spun you effortlessly, your hands finding his shoulders on instinct.
"Put me down!" You shrieked, your nails digging into Rafe’s shoulders that were sure to leave marks. Not that Rafe minded, taking it as your personal branding on him.
"Nah."
"Rafe!"
His laughter vibrated through his chest, rippling through you enough to make your heart do something stupid. By the time he finally slowed, both of you were breathless. His arms remained around you; your hands remained on him. Neither of you let go, just basking in the bubble you both had made, exclusively just for each other.
Gentle waves brushed against your skin as the sunlight scattered across the water, the rest of the beach fading into nothing. There was only him. His grin softened as his eyes lingered on yours, filled with a quiet honesty that stole the air from your lungs. Suddenly, every touch felt impossible to ignore. His hands steady on your waist, which felt like they were glued onto you, your fingers curled around his shoulders, the way your heart stumbled whenever he looked at you.
For once, Rafe looked just as affected. His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before snapping away, jaw tightening. There it was, that funny feeling. The feeling growing louder every day despite your internal efforts to not. Before either of you could acknowledge it, Rafe frowned.
"What the hell is that?"
You blinked, confused. "What?"
His eyes narrowed toward your shoulder, making you look down to see thick clumps of dark green and brown sat on your shoulder.
"Ew."
“Yeah," he winced. "Ew."
"Why are you agreeing with me? Get it off!"
“Get it off with what?" He laughed, backing away. "It's already on you." You splashed him in retaliation, only for a clump of seaweed and mud to drift straight into his chest. His expression dropped, only to make you burst out laughing.
"Oh my God."
"Don't." A piece of seaweed chose that exact moment to slide down from his shoulder, causing your laughter to double, and a second later he was laughing too. Soon you were both standing there in waist-deep water, covered in ocean grime and laughing over the mess you’d gotten yourself into. In spite of the state the two of you were in, it was everything you could’ve ever dreamt of from a relationship. Watching Rafe smile at you like you were the only thing worth looking at, it felt strange, but meant everything.
Rafe looked down at the position you both were in, and felt his member throb, only to remind him that this wasn’t supposed to be what it was. He cleared his throat before speaking up, “We should probably go shower”
“Right, yeah,” You awkwardly agreed before Rafe set you down.
While attempting to hide from Ethan and Charlotte on your way over to the showers, you both managed to catch a snippet of their conversation.
“I still don’t get how that kid got into my bag, lost my cards and dunked my phone,” Ethan muttered as Charlotte rubbed his back lovingly, who’d simply replied with, “It’ll be okay.” You looked back to see Rafe sporting his usual cocky smirk while placing his hand on the small of your back to usher you ahead, meaning he’d successfully pulled it off again.
The outdoor showers, hidden by rocks and a zig-zag of a route, were secluded from the rest of the beach once you got there, and luckily, empty. As the water came down in spurts onto you, you could feel the grime slip away, along with the guilt of letting yourself enjoy your time with Rafe. The way his hand gripped you so possessively when you were approached by that guy, the way he'd called you his wife instinctively, had your thoughts wandering down forbidden paths and your heart racing at the possibility that fate had been quietly weaving the two of you together all along.
“Come here,” You turned to see Rafe motioning you over. “Shower head’s better here.”
The smell of your sweet, floral perfume and salt water had him taking deep breaths, his now painfully hard member still pulsating from earlier as you stepped in front of Rafe. He isn’t sure to go ahead with this, and for a moment, he’s forgotten how to speak to you. The words stayed lodged in his throat as he watched drops of water cascade down your body, your face in bliss, though he was blind to the internal battle inside your head.
He hated the bathing suit you’ve got on because of how much of a chokehold it had on him. It was just pieces of fabric, yet somehow, it had him losing whatever composure he’d managed to hold onto.
“Nice bathing suit.” He managed to get out, his voice gravelly. “It, uh, suits you.” Sounding like a pervert was the last thing on his list of what he wanted to come off as to you, wincing at his words. “Sorry, I don’t mean that in a weird way.”
“No, don’t apologize. I had this in my closet for years, but I never found myself wanting to wear it,” You confessed as your face flushed with heat. “Didn’t think it’d be something that Ethan would want to see me in. Sage threw it in my suitcase if we’re being honest.”
Rafe scoffed, “The guy’s a certified idiot if he made you feel that way. He had someone like you standing right in front of him for years, and he was too busy setting up this elaborate lifestyle to notice.” He stepped closer under the showerhead, the water cascading over his broad shoulders as he reached up to adjust the dial, making sure the stream wasn't too cold against your skin. A soft, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, replacing the sharp, defensive tension he usually carried.
"And for the record," Rafe added, leaning one shoulder against the cool stone wall and watching the water slick your hair back, "that guy on the beach wasn't just being friendly. He was two seconds away from asking you t’be his wife.” You wiped a stray drop of water from your eye, tilting your head up with a small, challenging grin. "He was just making conversation, Rafe. You're the one who sprinted over like you were claiming territory."
"Because you were five seconds away from giving him that sweet, polite smile of yours and letting him think he actually had a chance," Rafe teased, his gravelly voice dipping into a lower, warmer register. "I had to step in before he asked you to dinner right in front of me."
"Well, lucky me, my fake husband was right there to rescue me," you mused, taking a tiny step forward into his space, the water splashing softly between you. “Though I think it was a one-time thing.”
“What do you mean?” He questioned, not wanting to understand what you meant, even if he knew what it alluded to.
“Well, I mean, look at it logically," you said with a light, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting your head back against the cool stone wall for a second as the warm stream washed over your face. "My whole life was basically formatted for one person. Every habit, every plan, every version of myself was built to fit into a mould that someone else created. I've only ever been with Ethan, Rafe."
You looked back at him, offering a soft, unbothered smile that carried a quiet weight beneath it, keeping the tone light enough so it didn't weigh down the air between you. "It's fine, really. I just know what it looks like from the outside. If a guy realized he’d have to help me figure out who I even am on my own before he gets to know me, I wouldn't blame him for running the other way. So it’s either that or you just wanted an excuse to hold onto me"
Rafe stared at you, his dark blue eyes narrowing as the casual, teasing tilt of his mouth completely vanished. The water streamed down the sharp angle of his jaw, but he didn't even blink. He took half a step closer until his chest was inches from yours, effectively blocking out the rest of the world.
"Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble that made the skin on your arms prickle despite the warmth of the shower. "You think you're some project someone has to fix?"
"I'm just being realistic," you mused, a small, playful smirk returning to your lips to brush off the intense, heavy gaze radiating off him. "I'm not exactly standard issue."
"You're an idiot," Rafe muttered, though the sharp edge in his tone softened instantly, his eyes dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to yours. "Ethan was the idiot. He had you completely turned toward him, changing yourself to fit his stupid little world, and he still managed to look right past you."
He stepped all the way into your space, the stone shower wall catching your back as his hand came up, wet fingers wrapping around the side of your neck. His thumb stroked the soft line beneath your jaw, warm and steady against your hammering pulse. "You think guys don’t see anything when they look at you?" Rafe murmured, leaning in until his breath fanned across your wet lips. "Angel, any guy with half a brain looks at you and sees everything he's ever wanted.”
A soft laugh caught in your throat, your hands instinctively rising to rest against his wet, broad chest as if to push him away. "You're just saying that to boost my ego."
"Yeah? You think I'm lying?" Rafe let out a raspy, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. Without another word, his fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist, guiding your hand down past his chest, down his stomach, until he pressed your open palm flat against the thick, rock-hard length straining beneath the thin, wet fabric of his boardshorts.
Your breath hitched sharply as your fingers curled around him, the intense heat radiating through his shorts making your pulse do wild, dizzying flips against your ribs. His hips twitched subtly into your touch, a quiet, involuntary hum lingering deep in his chest. Rafe leaned his forehead down against yours, his blue eyes blown wide and dark as he held your hand pinned firmly against him.
"See what you do to me," he growled softly, his voice thick and gravelly as his breath hitched against your mouth. "You stand there talking about how nobody would want you, and I can barely keep my fucking mind off you without getting hard. This is the effect you have on me." A slow, knowing smile spread across your lips, your thumb tracing a subtle, maddening stroke over his hardened ridge.
"I know, Rafe," you whispered, looking up through your wet eyelashes straight into his stormy eyes. Rafe blinked, a beat of genuine surprise breaking through the heavy, hazy expression on his face. "What?"
"I've known since the beach," you confessed softly, a gentle smirk touching your face as you leaned up on your tiptoes, your breath brushing the corner of his jaw. "Right when you picked me up in the water."
A slow, cocky smirk spread across Rafe's face, the kind that made your stomach clench with anticipation. "Oh, you have, have you?" he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that was pure sin. "So you were just standing there in the water, letting me sweat it out while you knew damn well what you were doing to me? And here I was, trying to be a gentleman."
"Is that what you were doing?" you breathed, your thumb stroking over his length again, eliciting a sharp hiss from him. Before you could go any further, his grip on your waist tightened possessively, hitching you forward until your hips were pressed flush against his. You instinctively leaned up, your breath catching as your eyes drifted toward his lips, expecting him to finally close the distance between your mouth and his.
"Nah," he breathed, and then he was moving. He leaned in, but instead of the kiss you were expecting, his mouth found the sensitive skin just below your ear. He didn't kiss you gently; he pressed a heavy, scorching kiss right over your pulse point, where your heart was thrashing as he sucked hard enough to leave a mark. A ragged, helpless gasp escaped your throat, your head falling back against the cool, wet stone wall in pure bliss as the sensation washed over you. Rafe took full advantage of the movement, his mouth dragging a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses up the sensitive column of your neck to the delicate skin just beneath your ear.
The warm water cascaded over your bodies, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from his mouth. His lips were a trail of fire as they moved down the column of your throat, a series of rough, demanding kisses and nips that made your toes curl. He was marking you, claiming every inch of skin he could reach. He bypassed your mouth entirely, a deliberate, teasing omission that made you ache for it with a new desperation. His teeth scraped against your collarbone, and you moaned, one of your hands sliding up his slick back to grip onto his head.
Internally, Rafe was completely drowning. Any lingering sense of control he’d been desperately trying to hold onto shattered into dust. He’d spent his whole life feeling like a wrecking ball, like someone who only ever ruined things and drove people away, but holding you while you stroked him like this made his mind go entirely quiet. All he could focus on was the intoxicating scent of you, the soft sounds escaping your lips, and the terrifyingly sweet realization that you wanted him.
For you, a dizzying rush of power surged through your veins. For years, you had been made to feel quiet, small, and easily overlooked. But watching Rafe Cameron—wild, unpredictable, and usually so dominant—completely unravel under your single hand sent a thrill straight through your chest.
"Fuck, angel," Rafe growled out, his hot breath fanning across your damp shoulder as he bit down gently on the soft skin near your collarbone before soothing it over with his tongue. "You're gonna be the absolute death of me, you know that?" He lifted his head just enough to look down at you, his blue eyes dark, blown out, and heavy with desire, though that arrogant, breathless smirk still tugged at the corner of his lips despite how hard his chest was heaving against yours.
"Don't stop," he commanded softly, his voice dropping into a desperate, raspy whisper as his hips gave an involuntary twitch against your hand. "Keep doing that."
"Rafe," you whispered, a plea and a prayer all at once.
"Shhh," he murmured against your shoulder, his voice thick and husky. He moved lower, his mouth tracing the strap of your bikini top across your chest. His hand, which had been holding your hip, slid around to your lower back, pressing you even closer against him. The hard, thick ridge of his erection was trapped between your bodies, and you instinctively rocked your hips against him, seeking that delicious friction. The movement made him groan into your skin, a deep, primal sound that vibrated through your entire body.
His other hand came up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as his mouth continued its relentless exploration. He kissed his way across your chest, his tongue tracing the swell of your breast above the fabric of your top. He was so close, so tantalizingly close to where you wanted him, but he never gave you the satisfaction. He was worshiping you with his mouth, but on his terms, driving you to the brink of madness with his teasing.
"Rafe, please," you moaned again, your voice trembling. You needed more. You needed his mouth on yours, you needed his hands everywhere, you needed him inside you.
"Please what, baby?" he rasped, finally lifting his head. His blue eyes were almost black, pupils blown wide with desire as they bored into yours. A smug, knowing smirk played on his swollen lips while a wave of pride washed over him. "Tell me what you want."
Instead of answering with words, you acted. Your hand, which was still resting on his hard cock, hooked onto the waistband of his board shorts. You looked him straight in the eye as you boldly palmed his cock over the wet fabric, rubbing the hard length with a firm, confident stroke. His breath hitched, his jaw clenching as a low growl rumbled in his chest. The control he'd been clinging to finally shattered.
"Fuck it," he snarled, and then his mouth was finally on yours. It was nothing like the kisses you'd shared before. This was pure hunger, a punishing, bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue, a desperate clash that was more about possession than passion. He gripped your jaw, holding you still as he devoured you, his tongue thrusting into your mouth, claiming every corner. You kissed him back with just as much ferocity, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body arching against his. The water streamed over you both, a warm, silken curtain that cocooned you in your own private, passionate world.
Just as his hand began to tug at the string of your bikini top, his knuckles brushing against your ribs, a sound cut through the haze of lust. Footsteps. Heavy, crunching on the gravel path just beyond the stone wall. Rafe froze instantly, his entire body going rigid. His mouth tore from yours, and he pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes wide and alert. The passionate, possessive haze in them was replaced by a sharp, guarded intensity. The world, which had faded away completely, came rushing back in: the sound of the water, the cool stone at your back, and the unmistakable presence of someone just feet away.
"Fuck, angel," Rafe growled out, his hot breath fanning across your damp shoulder as he bit down gently on the soft skin near your collarbone before soothing it over with his tongue and pulling away. "You're gonna be the absolute death of me, you know that?"
Even within the haze of lust between you two and the warmth of each other, you could help but replay the same words that he’d said a couple of days ago, making you dizzy at the thought of what you’d just done compared to what was supposed to happen. With a surge of confidence that came out of nowhere, you blurted out, “Was this ‘strictly business’ as well?”
Rafe’s smile dropped, biting the inside of his cheek at the memory. He swallowed hard, his throat working as he fought to suppress the sudden surge of panic tightening in his chest. He hated that he had ever used those words with you, hated that he’d handed you a shield to protect your own heart from him before he’d even realized how deep you were sinking into his veins.
“I know I said what I said, but maybe, this trip," Rafe muttered, his voice dropping into a low, husky register that vibrated straight through your bones. He reached out, his thumb catching under the damp curve of your chin, lifting your face just enough so you were forced to meet the intense, storm-blue gaze searching yours. "Just until it’s over, angel... we do whatever the hell we want. No rules, no strings attached."
The words felt like a fragile compromise hanging in the damp air between you, an unspoken pact that allowed you both to burn as bright as you wanted without facing whatever waited on the other side of the flight home.
“I can do that,” you replied, hesitant but willing. “Just until this is done.”
Inside, Rafe wanted to tear his own tongue out. The lie tasted bitter, almost violent on his tongue. This trip was only digging himself a deeper hole that’d be harder to get out of, and he knew it. He didn't just want this trip; he wanted every morning waking up with your face tucked into the crook of his neck, every afternoon watching the sun highlight the warm tones in your skin, every single night proving to you that Ethan was a fucking ghost compared to him.
He wanted you back home, in his bed, taking over his life until he had nothing left to give, and he’d gladly give it all to you. But he was too terrified to lay it all out—terrified that if he admitted how completely you had broken through his walls, you’d realize the full weight of his obsession for you and run straight back to the safe, predictable life you’d left behind. You searched his face, catching the raw, unreadable war battling behind his eyes before he snapped his guard back up. Turning away, Rafe reached out and shut off the shower dial with a sharp flick of his wrist.
"Let's get out of here," he whispered near your ear, his breath hot against your damp skin. He slid his hand down to wrap tightly around yours, his long fingers lacing through your wet ones with a firm, possessive grip that left no room for distance. Stepping out from behind the secluded rock formation and leaving the secluded outdoor showers behind, you were hit instantly by the blinding sunlight and the warm ocean breeze.
Rafe adjusted his boardshorts with his free hand as his signature, arrogant smirk seamlessly settled back onto his face. As you walked back toward the crowded beach path, Rafe’s thumb began to draw slow circles against the back of your hand, holding you close to his side as if making sure everyone knew exactly who you belonged to for the rest of this trip.
The private spa suite was bathed in the low, golden glow of evening, thick with the warm scent of eucalyptus and sea salt. Stepping into the warm, bubbling plunge pool, the heat wrapped around you like a second skin, melting away the last lingering edges of tension from yesterday.
Rafe sat on the stone ledge behind you in the water, his broad shoulders slick and dripping as his heavy, warm hands worked deep circles into the tight muscles of your shoulders, his thumbs pressing in with a grounding grip. It surprised himself that he was even doing this in the first place, how the version of him before this trip would’ve thought how stupid he looked as he did right now.
"So," Rafe drawled, his gravelly voice dropping into a low, quiet register that vibrated straight through your back. "What’s the move when we actually get back to reality?" You leaned your head back against his knee, looking up at the sharp, razor-edged angle of his jaw through the light steam rising around you.
“I’ll probably start looking to move somewhere out of state,” you admitted softly, a calm, unyielding weight in your voice. “Start on a clean slate. I mean, I have nothing left here for me to really stay here anymore anyway.”
Rafe’s hands went dead still on your shoulders for a split second, a sharp, violent twist striking square in the middle of his chest. The thought of you packing your things and slipping away to some far-off city, erasing the old you, the one who’d spent this trip with him, to try and forget everything sent a shock of panic through his veins.
“And what will you be up to, Mr. Cameron?” You queried, your eyes gazing into his to try and memorize the crinkles in the outer corners of his eyes as he looked back at you. Rafe swallowed down the raw, possessive knot burning in his throat, his jaw flexing as he forced a lazy, arrogant smirk onto his face to mask the sudden ache. “Funny. I was actually thinking about making some moves out myself. Tryna’ expand things for the company out west, get the company to become bigger."
“You always were doing the most for your company.”
“Well, someone’s gotta keep the family legacy strong,” Rafe retorted back.
You let out a soft, hummed agreement, closing your eyes as his rough fingers slid up to cradle the back of your neck. There was an unspoken shift settled between you—that you’d both never see each other again once that plane touched down. Rafe tilted your head back slightly, his dark blue eyes blown out as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss right beneath your ear, his hot breath fanning across your flushed skin, as if to remind you to live in the present.
Though it hadn’t occurred to you both that, for the first time, neither Charlotte nor Ethan had crossed your minds. It was simply just you and Rafe; that’d been enough.
Later that night, the luxury of your hotel suite was quiet under the dim amber lamps, the distant rustle of the ocean drifting through the open balcony doors. You stood at the marble vanity in your silk sleepwear, brushing out your hair, feeling the lingering warmth of the spa still humming under your skin. A sudden, sharp buzz vibrated against the stone counter. Looking down, your face hardened into a stone-cold expression of indifference as you saw the notification. Without a single blink or a ripple of regret, you flipped the phone face down onto the marble, shutting him out forever.
You turned back toward the bed, where Rafe was stretched out across the crisp white sheets, his chest bare, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. The moment your feet hit the rug beside the bed, his long arm reached out, hooking tightly around your waist before you could even settle under the covers. He yanked you flush against his side, burying his face into the warm nook of your neck with a deep, rough exhale that vibrated against your collarbone.
"Took you long enough, angel," he grumbled possessively, his fingers digging into your hip to lock you against his solid warmth. You giggled softly, apologizing for the delay while you ran your fingers through his soft buzz, a quiet, knowing smile touching your lips in the dark as you pulled him closer.
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summary: discussing summer break plans with the squad, you find out bradley doesn't have anything to look forward to. what's better than inviting your long-time crush to meet your family?
warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, thigh riding, she falls first & he falls harder (yes God), no use of y/n
word count: 16.1k
a/n: if you get my 80s movie reference, i'll give you a big smooch!! sorry this took so long, but happy to have finished it. let me know what you think!
masterlist
your call sign: baby
When Maverick sat you all down a month ago to tell you that you had a whole week to spend however you'd like, you thought he was joking. After a few moments of silence, he laughed at your stunned faces and handed out the PTO forms.
"I know how hard you all have been working. I pushed for this. Even the top aviators in the world need a week off once in a while," he had said, arms crossed against his chest.
Hangman was the first to break the silence. "You're tellin' me Uncle Sam is just lettin' me disappear for a week?"
"Within reason," Maverick answered.
"Texas, here I come!"
"Please stay there," Phoenix muttered.
The room erupted into overlapping conversations after that.
As you walked out to the parking lot, you called your mom to tell her the good news. It seemed like the rest of the squad had the same idea, phones buzzing and held up to their ears as you left the base that night.
Phoenix was talking to her sister before she even reached her car; you could tell by how much she was rolling her eyes and laughing, all at the same time. Bob was smiling at something his mom said through the speaker of his phone, the boyish smile only really appearing when someone called him Bobby, and only his mom called him that. Fanboy was surely talking to his cousins, pointing into the air and gesturing faster than the words could form on his tongue. He once told you that they knew exactly how to push his buttons.
You laughed as your mom answered on the second ring. Then you asked if the family would be at the lake this year. You could hear the excitement in her voice as you told her the good news.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Bradley unlock his Bronco. No phone. No call. He climbed inside, rested both hands on the steering wheel for a second, then drove away.
Bradley Bradshaw hadn't been what you expected. Of course you had heard stories about him before arriving at TOPGUN. His past, his family, the tragedy surrounding them. But you also heard about the man he had become, someone people revered and counted on. You'd expected someone larger than life.
Instead, you'd met a man who smiled easily and carried grief so quietly that most people never noticed it.
While you had worked with Bob and Coyote before, you had never had to endure the wrath of Jake Seresin. It took all of five minutes for him to sink his claws into you.
"Baby?" he asked that first night at the Hard Deck, barely letting you finish introducing yourself.
"That's right," you replied, eyes narrowed, trying to see where he was going with this.
"Huh," he scratched the back of his neck. "It's just a little odd."
"Everyone calls me Baby. I don't really mind," you shruged, almost challenging the pilot to keep speaking, to say something he might regret.
"I don't know," Jake bit back, smile on his face growing and growing.
"You can call me Lieutenant, too. Your choice."
Bradley watched the interaction from a few feet away and instantly knew two things. One, Hangman was going to get punched if he wasn't careful. And two, he liked you. Liked the way you didn't back down.
From there, Jake had barked out a laugh, but moved on to his next target. Bradley watched as your shoulders relaxed. You sent a small smile over to Bob, joining him and nudging his shoulder as the two of you began talking.
Bradley liked the way you didn't shy away from Jake's challenge. But what struck him more was when he overheard you ask Bob about his mother, a detail about a knee surgery, and a solemn look on your face. Bob blinked.
"I can't believe you remembered that. It's been months!"
"It's your family," you shrugged like it was nothing but everything at the same time, and Bob just smiled.
"I'm gonna go grab another soda, want anything?" he asked, dusting off the peanut crumbs from his slack, but you just shook your head.
Observing the group, you locked eyes with the famed aviator. Sending him a small smile, Bradley couldn't help but wander over, beer bottle at his side, completely forgotten.
"You and Bob know each other?" he opened and you nodded.
"Worked with him for a few months earlier this year. Kind guy. Great WSO," you told him honestly.
Most pilots would've led with a great WSO. You'd led with kind. It caught him a little off guard.
"You pay attention to the little things, huh?" he questioned, although the smile on your face told him he already knew the answer.
"People like being remembered," you shrugged with a small smile.
That hit Bradley harder than he expected. You could tell by the way he swallowed, like he was trying to comprehend your words.
Over the next few weeks of training, Bradley started noticing things too.
How you never let Coyote refill his own coffee if you were already headed toward the pot. How you celebrated people, bringing in homemade cupcakes for Payback's birthday despite knowing him for less than a month. How you stayed late to help the engineers and crew members fold up tarps, even after days where Maverick pushed everyone to their limits. You always seemed to have more to give.
But the moment he stopped thinking of you as simply kind came after one particularly brutal day of training.
Hangman had taken one shot too many at Maverick. Bringing up his own father was the last straw.
Bradley hadn't trusted himself to stay on base much longer after that, leaving to get in his car before anyone could stop him. He sat with the engine off, hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles hurt.
A knock against the driver's window startled him.
You stood outside, hands shoved into the pockets of your pants. "Can I sit with you?"
He'd almost lied. The words I'm fine on the tip of his tongue.
Instead, he'd unlocked the passenger door.
It was no wonder you noticed him spacing out right now, tapping his thigh lightly and sending a glance towards the WSO across the table.
"What about you, Rooster? Where are you going this week?" Bob asks in between bites of his sandwich.
But Bradley just shakes his head dismissively. From the corner of his eye he sees the way your head whips in his direction.
"Just gonna catch up on laundry. Have an oil change, too," he gives the excuse lamely, hoping everyone will skim over his words.
Of course, the squad erupts at this.
"Laundry?" Jake questions, brows quirked like he's trying to determine if the man is joking or not.
"You can't just stay here for the week," Phoenix voices now. "It's not even supposed to be sunny."
"I'm watching a new T.V. show. It'll give me time to do that."
"Rooster, you can't be serious," Reuben says, disbelief on his face.
"Come home with me. My parents love having guests. The rodeo's this week, too!" Bob offers, opening a whole can of worms.
Bradley wants to crawl into his own skin as his teammates offer their places for the break.
"I mean Texas might be big enough for the both of us," Jake says in an exaggerated southern accent that makes the table groan as he laughs.
"My sister and I are going to a music festival," Phoenix joins in. "It'd be nice to have a tall guy when weaving through the crowds."
"You guys, I'm perfectly fine staying home for a week. I'm serious. I've got a lot I'm going to do." Bradley put his hands up defensively, laughter in his voice.
"You could come with me to my family's lake house." Your voice is a little quieter than the squad is used to.
Ignoring the pointed look that Phoenix sends your way, you continue.
"It's like my entire family. We all get together one week during the summer; it's like a whole thing. You'll love it," you tell him.
When Bradley doesn't immediately dismiss you, Jake chimes in, "I think we have a winner, ladies and gentlemen."
As the squad goes back to discussing their travel plans, Bradley turns to you. "Are you sure? Wouldn't I be intruding?"
"No, no! Not at all," you wave your hands around frantically, making the man laugh a bit. "So many people are coming. And my family knows all about you."
"Me?" Bradley asks, hand coming up to point at his own chest.
From your other side, you hear Phoenix choke on her food.
"I mean everyone, y'know! The squad. I talk about it constantly. You guys," you try to not grimace as the words come out, and you swear Nat whispers smooth as you breathe out your explanation.
"Oh," Bradley says, almost disappointed at your clarification. "You're sure?"
You hum, "I'm sure."
જ⁀➴
Arriving back at your apartment, you all but flop onto the couch as Nat cackles from behind you.
"What am I going to do?" Your voice is muffled from its place in the smashed pillow.
"Baby, I have no idea," she laughs, sitting next to your slack form.
"I'm an idiot. An actual idiot," you lament, sitting up just so you can put your head in your hands.
"My family knows all about you!" Nat mimics as you groan loudly, slumping down onto the floor now.
"Kill me, just please, kill me now," you mutter.
Once her laughter subsides, Nat looks at your disheveled form. "Hey, maybe this is your chance."
You shoot her a look, fury and embarrassment in your eyes.
"Nat."
"I'm serious! This could be it," she tells you, grabbing the remote to pick out a movie.
"He doesn't like me like that. We're friends," you reason, hands digging further and further into your hair, creating a curtain around your face. It's optimal right now, wanting to hide from the world and all.
"Sure," Nat scoffs, kicking her feet up on the coffee table.
"Can you imagine how awkward the flight home would be? I'd have to drive back to California. I'd have to quit, too. Dishonorable discharge. Unable to keep it in my pants on my official record forever," you wonder out loud as your best friend just rolls her eyes behind you.
"Pretty sure Maverick already knows, so it might be there already."
"Not funny," you whack her thigh, making her cackle once more.
Had Maverick really seen you giving his Godson heart eyes? The thought alone is mortifying enough to have you fully lie down on the carpet.
"I wasn't trying to make a move," you explain. "He just didn't have anywhere to go. And that sad puppy look he gets was just so lethal."
"Barf," Phoenix says simply as your hands go up to your heart at the thought of Bradley's sweet, sad face.
"Like laundry? And an oil change?" you continue.
"Baby."
"It was depressing. I could tell he was just okay with it."
"Baby."
"I just couldn't let him," you whisper and the woman besides you gets quiet.
"I know."
You stew for a few minutes more, Nat kind enough to let you have some silence to collect your thoughts.
"Don't think so much," she finally says, pressing play on the movie.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" you ask, hands now covering your face.
Nat sighs, moving down onto the floor with you. "Just take it a day at a time. You'll be okay. Rooster will be okay."
"What if he doesn't like them?"
She just looks at you, lips pressed tightly together.
"What if it's too much?"
"You're not too much," she sees through you instantly, and all you can do is nod.
જ⁀➴
It's only been thirty minutes in the air, but you're already out like a light next to him. The sight of you slumped up against his shoulder almost makes him laugh. If it wouldn't disrupt your sleep, his phone would be out snapping a picture and sending it into the shared group chat.
Bradley still can't believe he's on this flight. On his way to meet your family.
Everyone else's offers seemed like they were out of pity. But when you spoke up, Bradley couldn't deny you.
It was beginning to become a sort of pattern.
From that night you knocked on his car window, Bradley was metaphorically opening up the passenger door to his life for you. You were so in tune with his emotions after that point, always looking out for him in ways that he'd never experienced
In moments that he thinks no one else is paying attention, you're there. It's blink, and you miss it, but somehow you always seem to catch on to whatever's going on in his head. They weren't big gestures, tiny even. The kind most people would've forgotten about within a few hours.
Bradley remembered every single one.
Tasked with grabbing drinks for the squad on your regularly scheduled Thursday pool night, you and Bradley were sitting up at the bar, waiting for Penny to finish the order.
Somewhere in the corner, Fanboy was already losing a game of darts despite insisting he was getting better. Jake argued with Coyote over something football-related while Phoenix rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it hurt. And Bob was documenting the whole thing, phone camera capturing pictures of the night, no doubt for a digital scrapbook he was putting together.
A group of men sat down at the bar a few stools down from you, and you really didn't think much of them at first. But then you heard it.
"So that's Maverick's kid, right?"
"Nah," another man answered. "Goose's."
"Oh."
A few seconds of silence fell over them.
"Damn."
Then there was a laugh.
"I heard his mom had a thing for aviators."
The group snickered.
One even muttered, "Didn't work out so well."
It wasn't loud. It wasn't shouted across the room. Most people probably didn't even hear it over the music.
But you watched Bradley's shoulders go perfectly still.
The smile disappeared from his face so quickly it almost looked like someone had reached over and wiped it away.
He excused himself with some mumbled comment you couldn't hear and started toward the back hallway.
You were already standing before you'd consciously decided to move.
"We'll be right back," you told Penny, eyes trailing after the man as she just hummed and sent you a knowing look.
By the time you reached the hallway, Bradley was leaning against the wall outside the restrooms, both hands pressed against his hips, staring at the floor. He looked up when he heard your footsteps.
"You okay?" you asked softly.
He was already shaking his head. "I'm fine."
You hummed like you didn't believe him. After a second, you leaned against the wall beside him, leaving a comfortable few feet between you.
Silence settled between you. Music leaked through the walls in muffled thumps. Laughter was faint in the background, so far away from you now. The air was still, settling between the two of you.
"I hate saying that," he admitted quietly.
"Saying what?" You tilted your head at this.
"'I'm fine.'"
You looked over at him fully now. "So why'd you say it?"
He laughed once through his nose. "Because it's easier."
You nodded but didn't say anything, just let him sit in whatever he was feeling.
Another minute passed before he finally spoke again.
"They didn't even know her." His voice cracked on the last word.
Your chest tightened at this. His face was twisted now, jaw clenched and hands cracking his knuckles.
Without thinking, you reached over and rested your hand lightly against his arm, rubbing small circles into the warm skin with barely any pressure.
He closed his eyes.
"I just..." he swallowed. "I don't even remember her voice anymore."
The confession came so quietly you almost missed it. You didn't know what to say. There wasn't anything to say. So you stayed.
When Bradley finally opened his eyes again, he found you exactly where you'd been a minute before.
Waiting. Not pushing. Just waiting for him.
Without making it a big deal, you opened your arms. For a moment, he was too upset to understand what was going on, but with a look down at your face, he couldn't deny you any longer.
Almost falling into your grasp, his head bent down to the crook of your neck. He felt your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders as his went to snake around your waist. He waited for you to let go, to loosen your grip. But if anything, as the moments passed by, your hands only became more planted on his broad back.
Your head slips from its place on your palm, momentarily waking you up. The movement startles Bradley out of his trance. He goes to look at you, and sure enough, you've curled up into your seat, head leaning on your other palm. Your cheek is more smooshed now, and Bradley can't help but think about how adorable you look in this moment.
It makes him remember all the late-night conversations the squad has when at sea, trying to stay awake in the early hours of the night.
Everyone's laughing, somehow the conversation drifting from embarrassing callsigns to childhood stories.
"I swear after the third stall, my dad yanked me out of the driver's seat," Fanboy recalled, almost spilling his water as he doubled over.
"My granddad taught me. Old ranch truck. Thing didn't even have doors." Jake barked out a laugh at the memory.
"Explains a lot," Nat snorted, sending a look his way.
"It builds character!" he defended, which got a loud laugh from everyone.
Bob smiled to himself before he started, "My mom wouldn't let me leave the church parking lot for like… three months."
"Church parking lot?" Coyote laughed. "Those things are always empty!"
"It was not empty," Bob defended. "Mrs. Henderson was there every Tuesday."
"So your first driving lesson was dodging eighty-year-olds?" Jake questioned, grin growing on his face.
"It was one eighty-year-old."
With that, the group is sent into another fit of laughter.
Innocently, Bob turned towards Bradley. "What about you, Rooster? Who taught you?"
His smile faltered. Just for a second. "My…" he started. The word caught in his throat.
You watched his jaw tighten. Watched him search for an answer that wouldn't invite more questions.
Before anyone could notice the pause, you leaned forward onto your elbows. "Okay, bigger debate."
Everyone looked your way.
"What's the worst car you've ever driven?"
Jake immediately pointed at Coyote, snapping his fingers. "The rust bucket."
"Oh absolutely not."
"Absolutely yes," the blonde sassed back.
Coyote looked personally offended. "It had personality."
"It had tetanus."
The conversation exploded all over again. Fanboy insisted his cousin's minivan counted. Phoenix claimed her first car's air conditioning only worked if she turned left.
Within seconds, no one remembered they'd asked Bradley a question.
Under the table, you rested your hand lightly against his thigh. Not squeezing or rubbing his leg. Just placed there enough to say, I know.
He looked over.
You were already laughing at something Bob had said, your hand gone as quickly as it had appeared.
No one else had noticed. You hadn't embarrassed him. You hadn't pitied him. You had simply given him an exit.
He wasn't sure how you always seemed to remember things either. The important things, that is. Birthdays, breakfast orders, favorite songs. Apparently not phone chargers, though.
Your phone is currently plugged into the seat with his charger. You smacked your forehead after rumaging through your backpack for a few minutes. Bradley just wordlessly handed you his as you sent him a sheepish smile.
Now his thumbs rub absentminded circles on the charging cord as he recalls a message you had sent him earlier this summer.
The squad had scattered for the weekend, each of them heading in different directions for the holiday. Bradley had spent the morning pretending it was just another Sunday, ignoring the date every time it flashed across his phone.
After a run and a shower, he'd wandered back into his apartment with a towel slung around his shoulders.
Picking up his phone, the notification center lit up as he tapped the screen to life.
1 Missed Call.
Baby.
A voicemail notification sat beneath it.
Bradley frowned. You rarely left voicemails, maybe the occasional unhinged and winded voice memo or badly typed out Siri text, but never really voicemails.
He pressed play.
"Hey!" Your voice crackled through the speaker, bright enough that he could picture the smile on your face. The mere thought made him grin. "Just calling to see how you are."
A pause came after, and he felt his face fall a bit.
"I know today can be… kind of weird."
He leaned his hip against the counter, towel forgotten. His sole focus now on your voice.
"I was just thinking about you."
Another small pause.
"And about your dad."
Bradley closed his eyes.
"I think he'd be really proud of you."
Your voice softened.
"I know I'm just stating the obvious, but… you can always talk to me about anything." A quiet laugh escaped you. "Or not talk. We can watch movies or complain about training or whatever you need."
Another beat.
"I'm proud of you too."
The message ended with a soft, "Okay… bye, Bradley."
Silence filled the apartment.
Bradley didn't move. After a long moment, he looked down at his phone. Then, without thinking, he pressed play again.
જ⁀➴
Day One
Lush green trees surrounded you both as you pulled up to the lake house. You had gotten Bradley to admit he had never been out to this part of the country before, but part of you already knew when his eyes went wide while driving down the roads of the small town.
The afternoon sun filters through the branches in scattering patches of gold. A wraparound porch overlooks the water; it glitters against the beating rays. Wind chimes sway lazily beside the front door, little potted plants scattered around the wooden planks. And somewhere farther down the shoreline, children shriek with laughter.
Bradley finds himself mesmerized. "Wow," he murmurs.
You smiled to yourself. "Told you."
Before he even gets the chance to cut the engine, the front door swings open, and a man is barreling down the driveway. You hop out of the passenger seat as Bradley puts the car in park, laughing a bit as you skip up to him.
Hesitantly, Bradley opens his own door and goes up to the pair of you.
"You must be Bradley," the man offers his hand out and Bradley smiles and grips it.
"Yes, sir."
He introduces himself as your dad. "Glad you could make it. Heard a lot about you."
"Dad." You slap his shoulder, shooting him a death glare that makes Bradley smile.
"Oh yeah?" Bradley grins, looking at you.
"Yes. Baby can't seem to shut up when it comes to you." The last few words are muddled with laughter as you push your father once more.
"Dad!" you repeat as Bradley almost chokes at the man's admission, suddenly feeling a bit nervous himself.
"What?" he says, offering you a clueless look, but Bradley can tell you don't buy it as you pinch his shoulder.
Bradley laughs as you yelp, your dad's hands going to tickle at your sides in retaliation. He had no idea you were ticklish.
"Oh, stop torturing the poor girl!" a woman, Bradley assumes your mom, calls out from the front porch.
Your head whips in her direction, and you take off to give her a bone-crushing hug.
"She's not going to want to spend her vacations with us anymore if you keep that up," your mom says, sending your dad a playful look as you nod alongside her. Bradley can't help but smile as he watches the dynamic play out in real time.
Your dad just rolls his eyes and turns to Bradley, "Come on, Brad, got some food on the stove for you two."
Bradley nods and follows your dad up the stairs to the porch. He smiles at you, raising his brows, a teasing look on his face. You smile too, but slap against his chest, turning from him quickly.
"Oh Lord, woman! What did I tell you about watching the toaster," you dad admonishes as you step into the house and the smell of smoke lingers in the air.
"My baby's here. I don't give a shit about the toaster," your mom explains as Bradley's eyes almost burst out of his head at her swearing.
"Well, you should! We're going to run out of buns," you dad shoots back, going to fan the smoke out of the house with a dish towel.
"Oh well fuck me, the buns!" she swears again, and Bradley sends you a look. It wasn't like he hadn't ever heard a curse word before, of course not. But seeing your mom swear like a sailor has him a little caught off guard. You don't blink at the interaction, telling Bradley that this must be a normal occurrence.
"Alexis, play my boat playlist!" your dad shouts out, moving on from the conversation entirely.
"Alexa, Dad," you say flatly as your dad snaps a finger at you.
"That's right. Alexa, play my boat playlist."
You and Bradley share a look that doesn't go unnoticed.
"Oh please, you two. Alexis, Alexa. Same thing," your dad sasses as Steely Dan begins to play through the small speaker.
"We didn't say anything!" you laugh, leaning into Bradley's space a bit more.
"Bradley, don't tell me she's corrupted you 5 minutes into the week ahead," your dad jokes as you scoff.
Bradley bites the inside of his cheek at the exchange, trying not to laugh.
"Of course he's corrupted, spends just about every day with Baby," your mom reasons.
"Oh great, another Baby. Just what we need," your dad tisks, throwing a grape in your direction.
You dodge the small fruit, pressing into Bradley's side now. "Really feeling the love, you guys," you tell them as they laugh.
"Oh, this is the best part." Your dad drops his phone and clips his sunglasses onto the collar of his shirt, moving across the kitchen to grab your mom's hand.
They begin to dance in front of you both, and Bradley knows he's grinning like an idiot now. He looks to his side, and you're already rolling your eyes at the sight, but a small smile tells him this must have been a regular occurrence for you growing up.
He's always wondered about your upbringing, knowing the silliness and kindness must have come from some sort of example. As he sits with you, watching your parents tease each other and you back and forth, he starts to understand.
જ⁀➴
"Alright, Bradley and Baby are in the basement. Huh, look at that triple B," your uncle says, laughing to himself a bit.
The family is gathered in the living room, little cousins sprawled out on the large couch and your aunts and uncles leaning up against the wooden walls of the cabin, all waiting to hear about room assignments for the week.
"The basement?" you question, almost everyone looking to you.
"Yes, little miss," your uncle confirms.
"But there's only one bed in the basement," you explain back, heart thumping wildly at the thought of sharing a bed with Bradley.
"It's either that or a sleeping bag on the floor," your uncle tells you as some of your family members laugh a bit at the look on your face.
"Mom," you plead, turning to the woman, but she just shrugs.
"Baby, it's okay," Bradley whispers to you, bending down close enough so you can feel the heat of his breath.
"Are you sure?" you say quietly, cringing at the thought of making him uncomfortable. But he just nods and gives your uncle a thumbs up, allowing him to move on to the next room.
Bradley catches your mom's eye as you turn back to your uncle, a small wink sent his way. He feels his ears burn as he looks away quickly.
Once the family is dismissed, Bradley gathers your bags from the car, not letting you help, and instead tells you to just lead the way to the room as he balances them in his hands.
The door squeaks open as you push it open, and it's exactly what Bradley expects. Soft blue bedding that had looked like it had been washed a hundred times, worn in the best way. A deep cherry red rug on the hardwood floor, patterned and rustic. And small little lamps and candles scattered across the room, setting a certain ambience. Framed family photos lined the dresser, the oldest sun-bleached from years spent near the window.
At the far end of the room was a sliding glass door, leading out to the lake. Bradley could see the moonbeams reflecting off the water, painting a beautiful picture.
"It's nice," he breathes out, placing the bags down.
You nod at his words, "Yeah."
Without another word, you begin to unpack, getting on your knees and unzipping your bag. Bradley joins you, a steady presence at your side.
Grabbing a pair of pajamas and your toiletry bag, you make your way into the ensuite to shower. Bradley insists you go first as he settles into the space.
As he sits on the bed, listening to the pitter-patter of the water flowing from the bathroom, he smiles to himself. He feels like he fits right into your family, from your dad's jokes this afternoon to your mom's teasing looks; Bradley's never quite felt this at home with people he's just met.
Your dad had told him about the elaborate plans for the week, handing him a beer as they walked around the property. Almost nightly barbecues, paddle boarding on the lake, the annual fishing trip. He had clapped Bradley on the back as he laid out the plans, a welcoming invitation.
After Bradley showers, he settles into the free space on the bed next to you. The only light in the room is coming through the almost see-through curtains by the glass door.
"Is it okay so far?" you whisper into the darkness of the room.
Bradley can make out the slope of your nose and the flutter of your lashes, though, staring at you as you lie side by side.
"More than okay," he speaks honestly, voice small, mimicking your softness.
"If it gets to be too much, you can tell me, and we'll leave early," you tell him, your voice a little shakier than before.
Bradley's eyebrows furrow at this, sensing a bit of insecurity in your words, something he's a bit unfamiliar with when it comes to you.
"Hey," his tone is warm, but firm, like there's no room for argument. "I'm having a really good time."
You nod, hair swishing against the pillow, but Bradley can still see how tense you are, even in minimal lighting.
"And miss out on all the embarrassing childhood stories? No way," Bradley lightens the mood as you giggle a little bit. His shoulders drop in relief at the noise.
"Okay, but you can't tell the rest of the squad. I'm swearing you to secrecy," you joke, relaxing into the bed as you talk with him.
"Okay," he laughs lightly, glad the edge in your voice is long gone.
"And don't let my uncles scare you. They'll try to tease you, but just bring up how they managed to set the grill on fire a few summers ago," you tell him, like you're giving him an expert's opinion.
"They what?" he laughs as you giggle once more, starting to tell the story.
Bradley looks at you as you speak, face flush against the pillow, making your cheeks look soft and round. Your eyes blink longer and longer as the minutes pass. And finally, your voice begins to trail off into mumbles as your body relaxes into the mattress.
"Goodnight, Baby," he whispers to himself, knowing you're too deep in your sleep to hear him.
The combination of your breath and the small waves outside the glass door let him follow you quickly.
જ⁀➴
Day Two
Bradley didn't know that breakfast could be so chaotic. More so than the lunch or dinner they had last night. He stands near the kitchen island, two plates in his hands, as your cousins weave through the adults to stuff as much bacon as they can onto their plates. The coffee pot that had just beeped two minutes ago was now empty, people grumbling about not getting their cup filled.
Still, he moves with intention, making sure to grab some strawberries before they all disappear, putting them on top of your pancakes.
Walking out to the deck, he sets the plate down in front of you.
Looking up at him, he just smiles as you nurse your full mug.
Before you can even say anything, voices cut through the silence.
"Oooh," your younger cousins tease, some of them making kissy faces in your direction. You promptly snatch a piece of bacon off one of their plates, turning the teasing calls into whines of protest.
The scene makes Bradley laugh as he sits down next to you.
"Is Baby really a good pilot?" one of the young boys asks, eyes starring right at Bradley who hadn't even taken a bite of his food yet.
"Yeah cause she always has those badges, but I think they're fake," another says, starting a chorus of laughter from the kids.
"I'm gonna take another piece," you threaten, hand already outstretched to grab more bacon, but the boy shields his plate defensively.
"She's the best pilot I know," Bradley speaks, commanding the attention of the boys.
One of them shoots him a look. "Really?"
"Really," he confirms, missing the way you watch him, all his attention on the kids across from you. "She's smart, fast too. She always looks out for her team, which is the most important thing."
"Baby smart?" another teases as you scoff, making them all laugh.
"The smartest," Bradley confirms. "She's saved my butt one too many times. Like the time we were flying in the Swiss mountains, I almost crashed because a flock of birds came my way, but she sped up ahead of me and scared them off with a flare."
"Really?" The question is more honest now, genuine curiosity at his words.
"Yep. Has she ever told you about the time we were flying over the Red Sea?" he asks as they all shake their heads. You watch with fondness as Bradley recalls the event, your cousins jaws dropping as they look at him.
Seeing him interact with them like this makes something in you ache. You'd never seen Bradley with kids before, but it seems like second nature to him. All of them hang off his every word; his storytelling is a little exaggerated, but still mostly true.
When he looks to you for confirmation of the account, you blink. Not sure what you're really supposed to say; his words drowned out a few minutes ago as you honed in on the easy smile he wore as he spoke and the veins across his arms as he moved them during the story.
Shooting up, you grab your still full cup. "Um, gonna get more coffee."
He sends you a look, but you've already booked it into the house.
The sound of laughter draws him back to the table, eyes tearing away from your frame, still clad in the sweet pajamas from last night that admittedly drove him a little crazy when he first saw them.
"She has the biggest crush on you," one of them tells him through laughter, a few of the girls shushing him.
"What?" Bradley asks, his heart leaping at the words. Sure, he had suspected something; you weren't the most subtle person, but hearing it out loud was entirely different.
He had confided in Jake before the trip about his suspicions.
"Baby?" the blonde questions, beer sweating in his hand.
"I don't know, man. I just shake the feeling," Bradley says in between sips.
"Took you long enough," Jake mutters as Bradley's eyes go wide.
He sits upright in the barstool, no relaxation in his posture at the revelation. "What do you mean? She likes me?"
Jake laughs at this. "You sound like a middle schooler," he says, wiping away the tears in his eyes.
"So you think, or you know?" Bradley asks for confirmation.
Jake puts the beer down, still laughing a bit. "Look, man, it's no secret Baby's got feelings for you. Just like everyone else can tell you like her, too."
"What?" Bradley almost stumbles from his seat at this.
"Oh, come on," Jake sighs. "Don't try lying to me now. I see the way you look at her during movie nights. That shoulder move last week was nice."
"Shoulder move?"
Jake just looks at him with a blank expression. But as the silence stretches between them, the blonde's face contorts into one of mischief.
"Wait, you seriously didn't realize you like her?"
Bradley feels like he's handcuffed to the table now at the turn of this conversation. "I mean, of course I care about her."
"But not how you care about Phoenix," Jake offers, helping him along.
"I guess not, no. I just thought," he takes another swig of his beer, wishing it was something stronger now. "I thought it was just her, y'know? Like she makes everyone feel like that?"
"Like what?" Jake asks now, genuinely curious.
"Like," he tenses, trying to find the words. "Like, they're going a little crazy at how sweet she is."
"Just a little crazy?" Jake teases, with a knowing smirk on his lips.
"C'mon, man, you know what I mean."
"Sorry, Rooster. I really don't."
Before he can become too absorbed in the memory, one of the girls chimes in.
"Whatever, he knows her breakfast order." The similar chorus of ooohs returns, and Bradley laughs, thinking of Jake's words now.
"Oh gosh, he likes her too!" one of the boys exclaims, throwing them all into a fit of kissing noises again.
By now, some of your aunts and uncles have made their way out onto the porch. He looks to them for help, but they all laugh at each other as he tries to get the kids to quiet down before you come back out.
જ⁀➴
The sun is at its peak, meaning it's finally time to swim.
Bradley walks out of the house in swim trunks, sandals on his feet as he tracks along the shoreline. His eyes search the family and immediately land on you.
Bent over, you're helping one of your baby cousins into her floaties. First, the giggles you share capture his attention. Next is your bikini.
Gingham - he recalls the pattern's name from a craft night you hosted a few months back - white and dark green. The strings tied against your shoulders have Bradley licking his lips slightly, suddenly parched.
Sure, he'd seen you in a sports bra and shorts before, your uniform for beach football. But this was something else.
Your baby cousin spots him, pointing a chubby finger in his direction. Turning your head, you beckon him over, and he quickly rids his mind of lewd thoughts.
"Bradley, can you paddle board with me?" she asks, voice shy and eyes not quite meeting his.
You hold a hand up to your chest in mock hurt. "Wow. Bradley shows up, and suddenly I'm chopped liver?"
She hides her face in her hands as you tickle her sides.
"Come on, before she gets me too," Bradley tells the young girl, stretching out a hand.
You shake your head as they walk off, Bradley looking over his shoulder at you, mouthing 'sorry' with an insincere expression.
With a paddle in hand, Bradley makes sure your baby cousin is situated on the board. Following your dad as he paddles down a part of the lake, he takes in his surroundings.
It's hot, the sun beating down on him, but the rays feel like a kiss on his skin, searing in the best way. He can't remember the last time he did something like this.
The water is cool when it splashes on his skin. Droplets run down his hands and arms as he paddles.
Birds chirp, creating a peaceful feeling. He swears he can hear the buzz of cicadas too, but isn't quite sure if they'd be out now.
"Sit down!" your voice rings out, getting his and many other family members' attention.
Paired up with one of your pre-teen cousins, the look on your face makes Bradley laugh. He hadn't gotten the chance to talk to the kid yet, as the young boy was throwing around a football on the lake line almost all of yesterday.
"What's going on?" the little girl speaks up, looking to Bradley as he watches the scene unfold.
"Looks like he's giving Baby a hard time," Bradley answers, pointing towards your paddle board. The boy is now rocking the board slightly as you grip the sides.
The rest of the family pauses as the two of you bicker back and forth, smiles on their faces at the antics.
"What are you going to do about it?" he asks smugly, rocking the board harder.
The look on your face is familiar to Bradley. He tries to remember where he's seen it before, recalling memory after memory of you.
But the tick in your jaw sparks in his mind; you'd only gotten this way when Jake had challenged you to a drinking game, saying you were probably one of those girls who couldn't hold their alcohol.
You had outdrank him and then some, victoriously singing karaoke at the Hard Deck while Jake vomited in the bathroom down the hall. While it had been a win, you were giggly and floppy for the rest of the night, hanging off Bradley and laughing at just about anything he said.
Suddenly, you handed your paddle to your uncle before bounding up and making your way to tackle the boy into the water.
Bradley could see your hands wrapped protectively behind the boy's head and back as you launched into the blue water. Laughter was ringing out from the family as you emerged, the boy gasping for air, not quite believing what had just happened.
Not letting you off the hook so easily, the boy splashed you viciously as you shrieked.
Soon, your other cousins were jumping in the water and joining in, the girl immediately going to your side and the boys teaming up with each other.
Sneaking off to the board, your cousin gets back on and begins splashing you with the paddle, sending waves of water to your face.
Bradley watches as you duck into the water. He can barely make out your figure in the deep blue, but spots you as you swim closer to him.
Whipping your hair out of your face, you place your hands on the edge of his board, looking up at him. His breath stops at the sight of the water droplets that have collected on your collarbones and the way your eyes plead from this position.
"Help me," you urge, pointing to his paddle.
Water drips from your eyelashes as you stare at the man. Something constricts in his chest at the sight.
Bradley looks to the young girl next to him. "What do you think?"
She takes a minute, looking at you as you send her a pout.
"Okay," she speaks, making you cheer and turn back to Bradley, who has already begun to paddle towards the pre-teen.
Making grabbing hands at her, your cousin plops into the water next to you, not wanting to get caught in the splashing war.
Soon he's splashing your cousin back, leading to protests from the young boys.
"Bradley, you're supposed to be on our team!"
"Traitor!"
"Baby's got him wrapped around her finger!"
Bradley opens his mouth to defend himself before giving up with a laugh.
You smile as the boys make their way over to the board, shaking it and sending Bradley off balance. A second later, he's slipping and toppling into the water as the boys cheer.
As he comes up, he shakes the water from his hair and looks in your direction.
You're a few feet away now, finally safe from the splashing. Your head is tipped back toward the sun, laughter spilling from you without restraint.
Bradley had seen beautiful women before, but he'd never seen anyone who looked so completely alive, like they loved everything around them.
That love seemed to spill out of you, catching on everyone nearby. Your cousins laughed because you laughed. Your uncles grinned as they watched the chaos unfold. Even your dad had abandoned his paddle just to shake his head with a smile.
He'd seen pieces of that warmth before, with the squad, at the Hard Deck, during long days at base, but here, surrounded by the people who had raised you, he finally understood where it came from.
જ⁀➴
Chopping up carrot sticks and celery, you try not to be distracted by the situation playing out in front of you.
Bradley, all 6'1 of him, is hunched over beads and strings on the living room carpet, surrounded by your cousins. His fingers move carefully as he threads the friendship bracelet.
He's talking softly with them, answering their odd questions and silly inquiries with a smile on his face. The sight makes your heart ache.
One of the girls taps him lightly on the shoulder, and he faces her immediately. She holds out her finished product and wrist, urging Bradley to tie it.
He fumbles a bit at first, big fingers and thin string not mixing too well. But after a few seconds, the knot slips on, and the little girl is clutching her wrist to her chest in admiration.
You can see how he leans in as she says thank you, nodding his head. And when she catapults into his lap for a hug, you see the hesitation as he wraps an arm around her. But eventually, he settles, tucking her into his side.
Ruckus in the form of little boys comes bumbling down the stairs, already throwing around a football despite the many protests from adults in the house.
The ball flys over the heads of some of the girls, nearly missing one. Just as you're about to tell them to take it outside, Bradley is hopping up from his spot, your baby cousin still attached to his side.
He grabs the ball from one of the boys and leads them out the front door, all of them bouncing with excitement at the thought of him playing with them.
Sure enough, Bradley maneuvers your cousin to sit up on top of his shoulders, like a little princess, as he throws a spiral down the driveway. Even though only one of the boys catches the ball, they all sprint back to his side, begging him to throw it again.
"Are you going to chop the rest of those carrots or stare longingly and make me do all the work?" your mother asks, cutting through your intense focus.
With a sheepish smile, you raise the knife and bring your gaze back to the cutting board. The sight of light green celery sticks and bright orange carrots is much better for your heart anyway.
જ⁀➴
Day Three
The smell of bacon still lingers through the house when your uncle claps his hands together. "Alright!" he calls. "Fishing crew, let's load up."
Excited cheers echoed through the living room as your younger cousins scrambled for shoes and tackle boxes they'd been pestering their parents to pack since sunrise.
Your aunt stretches from her spot on the couch. "Thank God," she sighs. "A whole morning of peace."
"Peace?" your uncle scoffs.
"They're your children today." Laughter rolls through the room at this, Bradley looking at you as they banter.
Your dad points toward the front door. "Boys only this year." A chorus of gasps and whines follows immediately.
One of the smallest girls crosses her arms so hard that Bradley thinks she might tip over. "I wanted to catch a fish." Her bottom lip begins to wobble.
But before anyone can intervene, you sigh dramatically. "Wow."
Every little face turns toward you.
"So," you say, looking around the room. "Nobody wants to play mermaids with me?"
Fishing was forgotten almost instantly.
"I do!"
"So do I!"
"I want to have a pink tail!"
You throw Bradley an almost imperceptible shrug, like problem solved.
He stares at you for a beat before shaking his head with a laugh. "I don't know how you do that."
You dust your hands together dramatically. "It's a gift."
The man smiles at you brightly, almost unable to contain himself.
જ⁀➴
Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, Bradley prepares to walk out of the bedroom when the door opens. Looking up instinctively, he spots you.
You step into the room in a teal bikini beneath an oversized button-down that does absolutely nothing to hide the color or your figure underneath.
His thoughts derail for one dangerously long second.
"Have fun," you smile, grabbing your sunglasses from the nightstand. bending over slightly, and Bradley's eyes catch for one dangerous second before he forces them somewhere, anywhere, else.
"You too," he says, glued to his spot by the door as you make your way around his body. You disappear up the stairs before he thinks of anything else to say.
જ⁀➴
Outside, aluminum boats rock gently against the dock. A pile of coolers, fishing poles, and tackle boxes lay out haphazardley. The young boys are practically vibrating with excitement at the next few hours to come, all of them making bets on who will catch the biggest fish.
Bradley lingers near the edge of the dock, unsure where exactly he was supposed to be standing. Everywhere he looks, fathers are kneeling beside sons, tightening life jackets or showing them how to bait hooks.
One little boy proudly held up a worm nearly as long as his forearm.
"Too much," your uncle laughs.
"Nuh-uh," he says with a toothless grin.
"Buddy, the fish isn't eating another fish."
Fathers automatically reach over to zip jackets or ruffle hair or wipe dirt off little noses without thinking about it.
It all looks so easy, but he feels his chest tighten before he can do anything stop it. Usually you're by his side in these moments. Soothing hand on his back or bumping knees with him under the table to knock him out of his trance. But your down the shore, he can see your figure clapping as one of the little girls dunks her head under the water.
A shoulder bumps lightly against his. "You ever gone fishing before?" Your dad stands beside him, coffee mug balancing in one hand.
Bradley looks toward the boats, rubbing the back of his neck. "Actually, no, sir."
Instead of surprise, or worse, teasing, your dad only nods once. Taking a sip of coffee, Bradley sees him start to reel up. "My old man started taking me every Saturday once I turned six. Rain, shine, didn't matter." Your dad chuckles at the memory. "Half the time we didn't catch a damn thing."
Bradley laughs at this too, some of the ache soothing away now.
"Did the same with Baby as soon as she turned eight. Took a few years of convincing."
"Really?" Bradley asks, not knowing that about you.
"Oh she hated it at first. Always too antsy to stay on a boat for more than thirty minutes."
They laugh at this. Bradley sure has experienced your more energetic side before. Boring movie nights always had you rocking on the couch and nudging him on accident. He remembers slinging an arm around your shoulder during the half way mark for Inception. You went frighteningly still for a few minutes before settling into the space.
Your dad looks out over the water for another moment before nudging him again. "Well," he gestures toward the boats. "We'll fix that today."
Bradley blinks, too caught up in the memory. "What?"
"Never fishing." A grin spreads across your dad's face. "Figure by lunch you'll know enough to outfish my brothers."
Loud protests immediately erupt from nearby. Your dad ignores them completely, keeping his attention on Bradley.
"Oh, and before I forget." He rests a hand briefly on Bradley's shoulder. "You don't need an invitation anymore."
Bradley frowns slightly, not quite sure what he means.
"We'll save the basement for you and Baby again next summer."
Bradley swallows at this, the extension making his throat feel sore and strangely tight. Your dad squeezes his shoulder once before walking off to argue with his brothers about bait.
Bradley stays where he is. Looking back out across the shoreline back to you. You're waist-deep in the water now, pretending to be some sort of sea monster while six little girls shriek and splash away from you.
One of them throws herself into your arms, and you catch her, laughing like it's the easiest thing in the world.
Bradley has spent years wondering what home is supposed to feel like. Standing on that dock, he thinks it might look a lot like this.
જ⁀➴
The guys are gone all day, even through lunch. The house is quiet and tidy, and you've had time to take a nice long shower and catch up on some reading.
Lying in bed, your head rests on the pillow as you flip to the next page. The book is interesting, but your thoughts wander when a whiff of Bradley's shampoo hits you as you shift in the bed.
The past few days have been great, especially last night at dinner. You could tell Bradley was finally settling into the chaos of your family.
During the day, it seems like you're always looking for each other, either to share a smile during the sweeter moments or a stunned look when your cousins say something outrageous. It's a pastime at this point, not much different from when you were in California.
But instead of heading home to your own bed, alone with your thoughts, you instead lie across from Bradley.
The first night you had been too exhausted to really care, but that second night you were up for hours. It was hard trying to fall asleep when your longtime crush was inches away from you, close enough that you could hear his breath and the little hums he let out every so often.
The creak of the door has you looking up from your book. Sure enough, Bradley comes into the room, a little sunburnt, but you think you see a tiny smile on his lips.
"Hey," he says, setting his bag down on the floor and sitting on the bed, body facing yours.
"Hi." You shut your book and move to get up, but his hands find your shoulders and push you back down lightly.
"You look comfy," he teases, lying next to you.
"What can I say, a whole afternoon without any boys bothering me has been nice," you joke, bringing your hands under your cheek as you press against the pillow.
"Do I bother you?" His eyes find yours, and you can feel your cheeks heat up a bit at the attention.
"Only a little," you speak, voice softer now, and Bradley just hums with a small smile on his face as you roll your eyes.
The only sound in the room seems to be the crinkling of the sheets as Bradley moves closer to you. His eyes still haven't left yours, and you're beginning to feel the effects in full swing, tummy fluttering and thighs smushing together.
"D'you have fun?" you ask, trying to alleviate some of his focus.
He nods, bringing his hands up behind his head. His biceps are on full display now, and you urge yourself to look down instead. But when your eyes trail to his stomach, you see a tiny sliver of skin poking out from under his shirt. Did he always wear his shorts that low on his waist?
"It was really good," he finally tells you. "Your dad, he's really sweet. I can see where you get it from."
"Oh," you say without thinking, it's more of a noise that escapes you than an actual word.
Bradley smiles at this. His eyes track yours, spotting them looking all the way down at the edge of the bed near his socked feet. It almost makes him laugh.
"Are you going to stay in for the night? Want me to grab dinner and bring it down here?" he says, referencing the loud footsteps above that have just started.
You shake your head. "No, no. I was just waiting for you," you confess, heart beating a bit faster than normal.
"Oh." It's Bradley's turn to let a soft sigh escape him at your words.
He wants you to look back at him, but knows you won't. Instead, he shifts closer.
"Tired?" he questions, just trying to get you talking again.
You hum. "Yeah, I don't think I've played mermaids in years."
Bradley laughs at this, and finally your eyes find his again. You start to laugh, too. It's always like this. One of you starts, and the other joins.
"I missed you today," he confesses, and you feel your breath catch. "Didn't really realize until your dad started telling stories about you growing up."
You don't really know what to say to this so you just keep watching him, wondering if he'll continue.
It feels like he's getting closer, like his nose might bump yours if you move even an inch. You see his eyes jump down to your lips, and you try not to react.
"Baby," he says, voice softer than you've ever heard it before.
A shout of your name rings out from upstairs, drawing your eyes up towards the ceiling and away from the man in front of you.
"We should probably," you start, rolling out of bed.
You swear he groans, but maybe it's just the age of the house. Settling, or whatever they call it.
જ⁀➴
Day Four
Bradley's gotten used to waking up with you by his side. The first morning was a little jarring; he'd found you on his chest, wrapped around him tightly. But the second morning, he expected it. By the third, he had started to brush your features and lightly stroke your hair to wake you up.
But today, he doesn't awaken to the sound of your soft snores or to a kick to his shin.
Instead, the sheets are cold, only a little warm spot near the middle of them indicating your presence. He looks to the bathroom, but the light is off, and the door is open.
A yelp and the sound of glass from upstairs have him jumping out of bed in just his boxers.
Rounding the staircase, he spots you bent over with a grimace on your face.
"Hey," he says, and sees that it startles you a bit as you nearly fall forward.
"Did I wake you?" you ask, hands picking up pieces of glass.
He ignores the question completely, taking in the little details. Your feet are bare, and he sees shimmers too close to your toes. The coffee machine is whirling on the counter, not loud enough to wake anyone yet. And there are goosebumps on your skin; he wants to run his hands up and down your arms until they disappear.
"Are you okay?" His hand sweeps to find the small of your back, warm and solid against the bit of skin.
"Yeah," you answer, still picking up little shards.
"Stop picking it up," he tells you as his other hand goes to wrap lightly around your wrist.
"I got it." You shrug him off, twisting your arm out of his grasp.
He huffs from behind you. "You're going to cut yourself."
"I'm fine," you insist, almost having all the pieces off the ground now. But you don't get to finish, as you feel his hand snake around to your hips as he lifts you off the floor.
The hold is awkward, but you can't help but lean into it as you feel Bradley's bare chest up against you.
Setting you down on a countertop, he goes to grab the trash can and signals for you to dump all the glass you've collected into it.
When you try to hop off the smooth surface, his hands are on your thighs. "I just wanted to make some coffee," you mumble and Bradley can see clearly just how sleepy you still are.
Sure, you're not burrowing into his chest or grabbing at his waist like you have been the past few days, but your eyes are still a little puffy, and your hair is tangled. He can't help but rub a hand up and down your back soothingly. And when he feels you melt into the feeling, he brings himself closer between your legs, his other hand coming up to help your head drop onto his shoulder.
From the top of the staircase, your dad snaps a picture on his phone as your mom whispers into his ear, both smiling.
જ⁀➴
Sitting at the dinner table, your knees knock into Bradley's every few minutes. And each time it happens, you look to him but get no reaction. Instead, he just sifts through the puzzle pieces like he isn't driving you up the wall.
"Baby! Brad! Can you go into town? We're out of buns," your mom calls from the kitchen, your dad piping in from a distance, saying 'I told you so' as she throws a dish towel at him.
"Already?" you ask, looking in her direction as she tosses a pair of keys at you.
Pushing up from the table, Bradley is hot on your heels as you slip on a pair of sandals and lead him down the driveway to the old truck. Sticking his hand out, you plop the keys in his palm without a word. He's mildly surprised at your actions, but doesn't say anything to burst the bubble.
Driving on the windy roads, Bradley looks to you occasionally. Your feet are out the window, and you have sunnies pushing your hair back. It's hard for him to pull his eyes away from you.
You hum along to the radio, knowing almost every classic rock song that comes on. He smiles when you exaggeratedly sing along to the Eagles, hands going up to your heart and feet swinging in the breeze as the 70s guitar strums.
"What?" you say, looking at him as he grins.
"Nothing," he says back, not even trying to hide the amusement on his face.
"Whatever," you roll your eyes, "This is my Great Balls of Fire."
He laughs at this. "Oh, is it now?"
"Yes," you say with certainty, hand moving to turn up the volume in the old truck.
Bradley watches as your hips move in the seat, shoulders bouncing with the beat.
"Let's hear it then," he says, holding out an invisible microphone, and you send him a glare.
Still, you grab the object and sing along with the man on the radio. You've pulled your feet in by now, only to really bounce around in your seat.
After a few seconds, Bradley joins in, and you send him a smile. The wind whips through the car, and he can't help but laugh at the freedom of the moment.
Pulling into a parking spot outside a small pharmacy, he takes the keys out of the ignition, but you both continue to sing as you walk down the main strip of town.
You're dancing a little bit still, and Bradley holds his hand out to twirl you down the sidewalk, sending you into a fit of giggles.
"Baby! You're home!" A voice calls out from behind you, and you wave at the group of teenage girls.
Further down the strip, another voice calls out, this time belonging to an older woman. "Look at you! All grown up."
You smile and call out a greeting at her as she continues along her way.
Bradley realizes, somewhere between the pharmacy and the bakery, that everyone knows your name. And you know theirs too.
As you pass the bar, a few men call for you from the patio. "Tell your dad he still owes me twenty bucks!"
You laugh and nod, promising them you will.
Bradley takes this all in; everyone vying for a bit of your attention makes him want to wrap an arm around your side, fingers twitching at the thought.
The bell on the door of the general store rings, and you, of course, say hi to the people in almost every aisle. Finally finding the buns and picking up a pack of candy for yourself, you make your way to the register.
"15.89, Baby," Mrs. Ruth, the cashier and owner, tells you. But before you can swipe your card out of your wallet, Bradley is handing her a twenty-dollar bill.
"Bradley," you admonish, but he just shrugs, taking the change back and slipping it into his back pocket.
While he's distracted, you grab the bag, and he nearly lunges at you.
"Let your husband carry the bag, Baby," Mrs. Ruth says, making your neck snap in her direction.
"He's not my—"
"Great idea," Bradley cuts in, taking the bag from your grasp in the moment of weakness.
"Hey!" you say as Bradley waves to the older woman and holds the door open for you. She's already chuckling under her breath as you jump up to grab the bag from him, and he dodges you once again.
"Come on, Baby. We might be missing some Fleetwood Mac," he tells you and suddenly the bag doesn't seem as interesting as you rush him back to the car.
જ⁀➴
Day Five
Storm clouds roll across the sky early in the morning, grey skies and booming thunder canceling wakeboarding plans. Bradley expects whines and complaints from your cousins; instead, they're all heading down to the basement game room.
The older kids are crowded around a game of Monopoly, assigning roles via a raise of hand.
The pre-teens are split into two groups. The more hyper of the bunch is playing Twister while the quieter group sets up Clue in the corner.
The littles are coloring with markers and crayons all over the floor. Surely it's a tripping hazard, but they all seem to have a system, handing each color off seamlessly.
The adults are upstairs, some of them taking the time to pack up before they all leave tomorrow. Others are on the couch, playing cards in their hands and poker chips out like a challenge.
Bradley sees you curled up next to your mom, both of you sharing a hand and sending a glare your dad's way. It's almost scary how similar your expressions are.
"Come here, Bradley," your dad says, making room for him on the couch.
"Go Fish!" one of your uncles yells down the basement staircase, causing a horde of children to come running up, two steps at a time.
Bradley looks to you, and you just smile.
"Annual game," your dad offers, and he hums.
"Bradley's playing?" one of the pre-teen boys asks as your aunt doles out cards.
"Sure am," he says, not catching the look the boy sends you as you wink.
"Alright, it's just like simple Go Fish, but we've got a few family rules. You'll catch on, though, honey," your aunt says as she hands him his cards.
Not wanting to ask too many questions, especially not after seeing how serious everyone got, he just nods.
"I'll go first," you say, starting the game and sending subtle looks to the people closest to you.
A few minutes pass, and Bradley feels like he's getting the hang of things. Every so often, someone calls out a rule, and he has to adjust, but still, his hand isn't too big, and maybe he's a little distracted by the grin on your face every time he meets your eyes.
"I don't think I'm doing this right," he confides in your dad as his hand grows bigger by the minute. You have to shoot your dad a glare as you see sympathy overtake his features at Bradley's confused voice.
More and more rounds pass like this, something weird with the sevens, and then an odd stacking rule that never seems to work in his favor.
He catches your cousin, the same one you pushed into the lake earlier this week, looking at you expectantly. Furrowing his brows, he watches as you mouth something at him.
"Hey," he says, putting his stack of cards down on the table. "What was that?"
You look at him innocently, but your poker face has never been too great. "What?" you ask, biting your cheek harshly to contain your smile.
Some of your aunts begin to laugh lightly, trying to hide it with coughs. Your uncles are all looking at the ceiling. All of them.
"Family rules?" he questions, jaw ticking with amusement.
"What about them?" you reply, not cracking quite yet, but Bradley can tell you're close to laughing, eyes crinkling familiarly.
He scoffs, looking around for support. Finally, he looks to your dad. He sees you shake your head and whips a finger at you, making half the room laugh.
"Sir," he pleads, blocking you from your dad's line of vision.
The older man sighs, defeated. "It was Baby's idea. Told us all this morning."
"I knew it!" Bradley jumps up from his seat and barrels towards you.
You shriek as his hands grasp at your sides, tickling you mercilessly. "Bradley!"
"Family rules?" he asks again as you continue to laugh and writhe around. Soon your cousins are up and joining him, little hands coming to tickle the bottoms of your feet and underneath your arms.
Your laughter increases tenfold and is joined by many other little laughs.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" you beg, eyes squinting shut and chest heaving.
Your laughter finally dissolves into breathless little hiccups as Bradley relents, holding both hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright," he laughs. "Mercy."
"I said I was sorry," you wheeze from where you'd ended up sprawled across the rug, hair sticking to your cheeks.
"You lied to me."
"But it was pretty funny, right?" you ask. His hands come back to your sides, and you back track immediately. "Not funny. Not funny."
Bradley looks around and notices everyone is laughing and smiling. A few of the little ones are still lying down on top of you, one on your stomach as you stroke her hair and another curled up into your shoulder. The sight tugs at Bradley's heart.
One of your aunts calls for help with dinner, and a few of the older kids are hopping up to meet her in the kitchen. A few of the other kids go back to their games, saying something about having a drawing contest.
Bradley offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet, and steadying you with a hand at your waist when you stumble slightly over one of the discarded pillows.
"Thanks," you murmur.
"Anytime."
Only then do you realize how close you've ended up. His hand is still resting lightly against your side. You're close enough to see the tiny flecks of hazel hidden in his brown eyes. Close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.
Your breath catches.
"Will you come help us with a pillow fort?" one of the little girls asks, tugging on your sleeve, giving you the perfect opportunity to scoop her up and use her as a human shield.
"Let's go," you say quickly, not sparing another glance his way.
He watches you disappear down the stairs, the little girl balanced on your hip like she'd always belonged there.
Only when you're out of sight does he let out the slow breath he'd been holding. "Jesus," he mutters under his breath.
જ⁀➴
Piling into the living room, everyone settles down after dinner and stove-top s'mores. Your dad controls the remote, scrolling slower than anyone wants him to. "I don't want to miss anything!" he defends when one of his brothers reaches for it.
Somehow, you and Bradley end up in the middle of the couch. You catch the teasing look in your mom's eyes when you look around the room and shake your head.
You send him a shy smile as you settle down, thigh to thigh. But you only get a few minutes to feel awkward as you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into his hold as the movie starts up.
Your fingers trace the denim on his shorts, then move to play with the hem of his shirt, anything to distract you from the large hand that's running up and down your shoulder.
The movie is funny, but something you've seen a million times. You're unable to distract yourself for more than 5 minutes, almost knowing the dialogue by heart.
Your knees curl up to your chest, and one of Bradley's hands goes to bring them over his lap. The position is more comfortable than you want to admit.
The sound of his heartbeat begins to lull you, eyes becoming heavier with each blink.
Bradley can feel you finally sink into his hold, hand skimming the skin between the waistband of his shorts and the bottom of his shirt, completely innocent in sleep. Your head is tucked into his chest, and he can feel your soft hair tickling him every so often.
When a small snore comes from you, he finds himself looking down at your peaceful figure. A few of your younger cousins laugh at this, but he can't seem to tear his eyes away from you.
"Are you in love with Baby?" one of them asks, and the whole room freezes.
"You look at her the way mom and dad look at each other," another adds on, not helping the thumping of his chest. He's sure the fast beats are going to wake you up any moment.
The room is quiet, and he doesn't quite know what to say.
"Watch the movie," your dad tells them, snapping a finger in their direction, effectively rescuing him.
But when he looks at the man, he's already sending Bradley a knowing look.
જ⁀➴
The movie had ended hours ago, and you were back to sleeping at his side in your room, but Bradley can't help the flow of thoughts that run through him.
Pushing away the covers, he pads over to the sliding glass door, carefully opening it and heading out to the shoreline, leaving you behind as you doze off peacefully.
Flopping over to the other side of the bed, your hand goes to grab Bradley, but you are met with empty sheets. Unable to find him in your unconscious state, you groan lightly as you lift your head from the pillow.
The curtains are slightly open, giving away where the man is. Grabbing the first thing on the floor you can reach, you pull the fabric over your head and go outside.
You find Bradley standing with his hands in his pockets, looking out into the distance of the lake. The clacking of rocks under your slippers alerts him to your presence.
"Can't sleep?" you ask, bringing up a sweater paw when you yawn.
Bradley looks down at you, in his old college hoodie, and sighs. "No," he says breathlessly, not taking his eyes off you.
You turn to look up at him with a confused face. "Everything okay?" you ask, and you swear he huffs as he looks back out to the lake, making you increasingly anxious.
"I shouldn't have come out here."
You freeze at the words, already feeling your throat constricting.
"I knew this was a bad idea, and I did it anyway," he continues, voice heavy.
You knew it would end up like this. Your family was a lot; you were a lot. He'd gotten a front-row seat to it all this weekend, and it had driven him away.
God, you were so stupid. Maybe if you had been better about your boundaries, he wouldn't have felt like this. Or maybe if you had told your family to chill out a little more when he was around, he wouldn't have felt so regretful.
You thought it was going well. You thought he liked them. That he was having a good time.
Especially the past few days, you hadn't been able to turn a corner without him being right there next to you. But maybe that was his way of telling you it was too much.
He had offered to bring you dinner that one night in your room. God, you should've known then that he was tired of it all. Or maybe it was the constant push and pull from your younger cousins, always on top of him like a new plaything.
But maybe it really had been you. He'd seemed frustrated yesterday morning, now that you think of it. Done with your clumsiness and idiocy.
And he had seemed pretty annoyed at you earlier when you played that prank on him. Face heating up with embarrassment. Why hadn't you noticed that sooner?
You feel a tear roll down your cheek as you recall the events of this week. "Oh, Bradley, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you. I just didn't want you to be alone this week."
Your voice is meek, and Bradley whirls around to face you. He sees the tears forming, a few already slipping, and curses internally.
"Hey, hey, no. That's not what I meant," he tells you, hands going to cup your cheeks and push away the wetness.
"No?" you ask, not able to look at him just yet as you feel the tears well up.
"No, no, Baby. I just, I should've known that this week would make me fall even more in love with you."
You pause at that, blinking away your tears. Your hands come up to his bare chest to steady yourself at his confession.
"What?"
"I'm such an idiot. I mean, I didn't believe Jake when he told me." Bradley sees your brows knit in confusion and shakes his head. "Never mind, I just mean, I've been in love with you for a long time. Since the voicemail. No one's ever cared about me like that before."
The silence between you grows as you try to process his words.
"But I get it," he says finally, reading your face with a grimace as you stay quiet. "I know that's just how you were raised now. I don't expect anything to change."
Your neck snaps up at him at that, hands tightening around his torso. "What? No."
"No?" he asks, confusion on his face.
"I'm not like that with everyone. Only with you. It's different with you," you confess.
Bradley feels his heart leap at this. Only you playing on repeat in his brain- well, that is until your next few words.
"I love you too, Bradley."
At your confession, he moves to kiss you, hands cupping your jaw. Your face is cold compared to his warm hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks as his lips press against yours.
He pulls away slightly, the sight of your breathlessness from the kiss making him want to dive right back in. But before he does, his lips hover near yours. "Just for me?" he asks, confirming your feelings.
You nod, chasing his lips and giving them a soft kiss. "Yes. Only you."
He pressed harder against you at this, one hand coming down to hold steady at your hip and bring your body flush to his. The kisses become sloppy, tongue and teeth melding together as you stand on the shoreline.
His hands skim your lower back, and itching to be under the familiar sweatshirt. You nod, hoping he'll pick up on your signal. Quickly, his hands find your bare back, running up and down the smooth skin.
The feeling has you moaning into his mouth, and Bradley takes full advantage of it, sucking your tongue firmly as your eyes flutter.
His hands come down to your ass, picking you up and settling you around his waist. "This okay?" he asks, already walking back towards the sliding glass door to your room.
When you kiss him again, he laughs into your mouth.
"I need words, Baby."
When you look at him, his stare is intense, making you swallow.
"Yes, it's okay."
He smiles at this, giving you a chaste kiss. "Good job, Baby." The praise has you squirming in his hold as he opens the door.
Gently, he places you down in the middle of the bed. He thinks you look angelic like this, hair all fanned out against the pillow and body soft against the blue quilt.
He doesn't realize he's staring until you reach for him.
"Bradley?" Your face is twisted, a crease in your brows that he wants to smooth over and a pout on your lips that he wants to kiss.
"I'm good, Baby. Just been thinking about this for a long time," he admits, feeling his ears go a little red at the thought of all the times he's imagined you like this.
"Oh," you say, nodding, and Bradley thinks it's the sweetest thing. Words have escaped you a few times on this trip, and he loves the little face you make when you can't think of anything to say.
He climbs over your body, making you lie back once more. His fingers come to the bottom of the sweatshirt, playing with the light fabric as his mouth comes down to kiss your neck.
The tickle of his moustache is unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. Especially when it's accompanied by searing kisses and little nips to the sensitive skin.
His hands are glued to the pinch in your waist, thigh slotting between yours, pressing up against your heat. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly once as his teeth scrape up against your jaw. The movement seems to affect him greatly as he groans into your skin and grinds down onto your thigh.
He's hard against you, and with him being only in his boxers, you can feel almost everything.
Bradley continues like this for a bit, kissing and grabbing at your soft skin as long as you let him. When his kisses begin to trail down your neck to your chest, he looks up at you.
Before he has the chance to detach himself from your skin, you speak, "Yes, please. It's okay."
He smiles at this; you can feel it against your sternum. Still, his fingers move to push up your sleep shirt and his sweatshirt, taking it off you completely.
For a second time, he just stares at you. Your nipples peak underneath the cool air and Bradley groans when your tits bounce as you move slightly against his thigh.
"Fuck, Baby. So beautiful, y'know that?" he says, but doesn't really give you any time to answer as he dives in to kiss your lips.
You moan against his lips when you feel his hands play with your nipples, rolling the sensitive skin in between his fingers.
Running a thumb over the peak of your left tit, he pinches tightly at your right. The difference has your hips canting up against him.
His lips travel down your body again, this time quicker and more sloppy. When he reaches your breasts, he presses them together in his hands, bringing your nipples as close together as possible. The push isn't uncomfortable; rather, it has you whining, waiting to see what he'll do.
He brings his face near the cleavage, kissing and sucking marks into the soft skin. Then his palms press against the flesh again, harsher. Opening his mouth, he sucks down on your left nipple, his nose rubbing up against the right one.
At first, his mouth is firm against you, like he's trying to take as much of you into his mouth as he can. But as he moves to your other breast, his tongue teases the sensitive skin, rubbing little circles and only coming down to suck for a second or two at a time.
"Bradley, stop teasing," you whine, pulling his hair again as a drop of spit lands in between your breasts.
"Sorry, Baby. Sorry," he tells you, capturing your lips in a kiss and letting your tits bounce back to their natural position. "Just so pretty."
He's maneuvered himself over you fully now, his length pressing up against your heat. Only a few layers of fabric separate you.
His kisses are sloppy, teeth tugging on your lips every time you press into him or pull his hair. Your legs have wrapped around his waist, wanting to feel him against your most sensitive parts.
When you go to pull at his boxers, he puts some distance between your bodies. Not too much, but enough so that he can look at you.
"Baby, I want to, of course. I just don't have a condom." His face looks pained as he explains this to you.
You capture your lip between your teeth before speaking, even the words seem dirty, and you haven't said anything out loud.
Sensing your internal turmoil, Bradley kisses you softly. "What's wrong?"
You open your mouth and then snap it shut promptly, making him tilt his head at you.
"I'm on birth control, so I'm okay if we..." you trail off, eyes on the ceiling, not wanting to look at the man above you as you tell him this.
His hand comes to your jaw, bringing your focus back to him. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," you squeak out, and Bradley laughs.
"Baby, you don't need to be embarrassed. You want this, right?" he asks, needing your express approval.
You nod. "I know, it's just," you sigh, wanting to hide from his piercing gaze. "It's you. I've thought about this, too."
He grins at your words, leaning down to kiss your cheek softly.
"So cute, God. So fucking cute," he murmurs into your skin as you blush.
His hands push down your shorts and underwear in one swoop, tossing them off the bed and leaving you completely bare. He doesn't kiss your cheeks for long; instead, dragging you to the edge of the bed and drops to his knees.
"Oh, Bradley," you say, breath knocked out of you a bit. "You don't have to do that."
"I want to," he tells you without missing a beat, kissing softly at your inner thighs, making you jump. "Is that okay?"
You nod, lashes fluttering quickly. "Yeah, yes."
"Good." He noses at your thighs again. "Been wanting to taste you this whole week."
With that, he kisses your heart softly. One big hand goes to push your thighs up and away, putting you on full display to him. The same arm pushes against your thighs, keeping you open while he kisses and licks you.
His other hand caresses the skin around your ass, palming and squeezing the muscle there.
Bradley's tongue draws little circles around your opening, leaking more and more the closer he gets.
Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm skin there.
Finally, he presses fully into you, nose bumping your clit while his tongue fucks into your slit. You moan at the feeling, bringing a hand up to your mouth after hearing the loud sound, but Bradley grabs your wrist away and places your hand on the back of his head, urging you to push into him.
"Fuck, Bradley," you whine as your hand tangles in his hair, using it as leverage as you rub against his face. When you do, he moans, and the vibrations send a tingling sensation through your body.
His arm presses even harder against your thighs, bending you open as he licks into you fully. Abandoning your opening, his lips trail up to your clit and begin soft sucks as you whine underneath him.
Pulling away slightly, he speaks, "Yeah, Baby, feel good?" The timbre of his voice hums against you, and you can't do anything but nod and whine out for him.
Again, he returns but sucks harder and in rhythm now, making you push your hips against his face. His free hand grabs your ass, pulling you back against him, making a sloppy wet noise resound in the otherwise quiet room.
You feel a familiar coil wind up in your deep tummy. Tugging his hair, you try to warn Bradley to come up, but he keeps close against you.
"Bradley, please," you try again, but he just keeps helping you cant your heat against his face.
With a whine, you cum against his face, and it's only then that he stops his assault on your clit and goes back to licking at your opening.
Kissing up your body, you can feel the sticky trail he leaves on your skin. Finally, his lips find your again, and you moan at the taste of yourself against his tongue.
"Taste perfect like I knew you would," he says, kissing all over your face.
You tug him back down and go to push down his boxers.
"Yeah? Ready, Baby?" he questions with a smile, helping you back to the middle of the bed as he lies back against you.
"Yes, need you," you confess, and the smile on his face drops and is replaced by something much more intense. He nods, taking his length in his hand, rubbing against your sensitive opening.
Pushing the head in has your eyes blown wide. Bradley's watching your every move, every slight change in your expression. When your lips part as he pushes further in, he has to will himself to not spill into you right away.
"Good? Feeling good, Baby?" he checks in before pushing further.
You wrap your legs around him, helping him slip in even more. The movement has you both moaning into each other.
"Can I?" he asks, voice a little whiny. You nod vigorously, and he kisses your lips as he pushes up against you. Your heat now full, and your brain mushy.
He takes a minute to adjust to the feeling, warm and pulsing around him. Bradley kisses up and down your neck as you whine against him. It isn't until you rock into him that he pulls out slightly before pushing back in.
"Oh, God," you gasp at the feeling, and Bradley can't help but agree.
"I know, I know. I'll go slow," he assures you, kissing your hairline as he pulls out once again.
After a few strokes like this, he finds a good rhythm. Hips now chasing into you with a mission.
Your hands claw at his back as he fucks into you, wanting to bring him even closer if it's possible. Your tits are already rubbing against his hard muscles, giving you a satisfying feeling as your nipples press harder and harder as Bradley moves above you.
"Yeah, Baby, yeah. Feels so good, you feel so perfect," he breaths into you, head ducking into your neck to suck marks and lick against you.
"Bradley, don't stop. Please," you beg, feeling him shift and hit the deepest spot.
"Right there? Yeah?" he asks, hips moving faster now as you moan openly.
His hand snakes near your tummy, going to find your clit. Once his thumb reaches the bud, your back arches off the bed, trying to push off.
"It's okay, it's okay. I got you," Bradley tells you, voice strained but still steady and there for you.
He doesn't let up on any front, even as you squirm below him. His thumb works steady circles into your clit. His mouth kisses your neck and jaw. His hips snap against yours in a way that makes your head spin.
All the while, Bradley watches you. Watches your breathing pick up with every thrust. Watches how you grab for anything to ground you: sheets, his hair, and his favorite, his back. Your nails digging into him more and more as the seconds pass. Bradley watches as your tits rub against him, squishing up against his broad chest. Everything he sees is ten times better than his imagination.
When your mouth opens in a soundless cry, he knows you're close. Dipping down, he captures your lips in a kiss, humming against you. With this last gesture, he feels you clench against him before releasing.
He's quick to follow. "Inside? Is that okay?"
"Yes, yes," you say breathlessly, a little too fucked out to say anything else.
Feeling a warmth in your tummy and seeing Bradley shudder above you makes you gasp. It's your turn to take his face in your palms, placing a searing kiss on his lips.
Both of you are still, trying to regain your breath as you come down from the high.
Bradley pulls out slowly, kissing your cheek as he does so, and lies next to you. His arm goes to wrap around you, bringing your body into his.
"You okay, Baby?" he asks as you hum against his chest. He chuckles at this, bringing a hand to brush through your hair softly.
"Did you mean it?" He almost misses your question, a little dazed himself.
Sitting up a little, he takes a look at you. "What?"
You bite your lip, something Bradley knows you only do when you're deep in thought or embarrassed about something.
"You really love me?"
He almost breaks at this; your voice is so small and scared.
"Of course. Of course I do. I love you so much, sweet girl," he says, lying back down and pressing kisses to the crown of your head.
You finally settle beside him, your hand coming to wrap around his waist. "Thought I was dreaming," you admit, and Bradley laughs at the sleepiness of your voice.
"No, not a dream," he says, but he feels your deep breaths against him and knows you're about to sleep. "Come on, got to clean you up before bed."
You groan, but are lifted from the bed and into the ensuite, where Bradley begins to kiss all over your body as he drags a warm washcloth against your most sensitive parts. The attention and softness has you slumping into his figure as he laughs.
"It's okay. Goodnight, Baby."
જ⁀➴
The cars are all lined up in the driveway, trunks open and stuffed to the brim with suitcases and duffle bags.
Your baby cousins are all crying into their parents' shoulders, saying they don't want to go home yet. Bradley can't help but feel the same way.
This week, Bradley learned more about you than he even hoped for. Every memory he was taking away would be touched golden, not just from the summer sun, but from your kindness.
A hand claps on his back, and Bradley turns to face your dad. With a hand outstretched, your dad scoffs, instead bringing him into a hug.
"See you next summer, Brad," he says simply, giving the younger man a smile while Bradley's jaw clenches.
You watch from a few feet away, but don't say anything. Instead, you turn to your mom, giving her a hug as she gets teary eyed.
"Mom," you say, laughing a bit at her big feeling.
"Oh, what? I'm going to miss you, Baby. Come visit us more often," she tells you, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on your shirt. "Bradley can come, too."
She whispers the last part and you can't help but smile.
"Mom," you chastise, voice having no weight to it.
"He was looking at you differently this morning. You better call me when you get home and tell me what happened last night," she says, knowing only what a mom could.
"Oh my, God," you laugh as she brings you into one more hug.
"Ready?" Bradley asks as you walk over to him, his hand finding the small of your back easily now, like it's second nature.
You smile at him, leaning into the touch. "Yeah, let's go home."
Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Seresin!Reader
Summary: Y/N doesn't want to end her "summer fling"
Warnings: None
Requests: Open - Requesting Guidelines
Tag List: Open - I don't have a form yet, but you can leave a comment or send a message.
» TG:M Masterlist » Main Masterlist » Message/Request
A/N: Hi everyone! I used to be on here as acewritesfics/dlmlufics and probably half a dozen other usernames (I could never settle on one back then). I deactivated my old account while I was going through some personal stuff, tried to come back but left again but I am back now and want to start writing non-kpop-related fics again (I'm still writing k-pop and k-drama fics). So here I am, working through some old fics I managed to find through reblogs and Wayback Machine, rewriting and reposting them.
"Hey sis, I hope you packed your cowboy boots because we're going dancing tonight," Jake calls out to Y/N as he walks through the front door of the beach house she's leased for the summer.
While stationed in San Diego, her brother had persuaded her to come spend her summer under the Californian sun. Despite being nothing alike in personality as well as looks, the Seresin siblings are close. Her big brother was her hero growing up and she truly admired the person he is underneath his egocentric and cocky demeanor. She also couldn't pass up the chance to spend the summer at the beach.
"When are we leaving?" She asks as she walks out of her bedroom.
He informs her, "You've got an hour to get ready."
Y/N spends the next hour showering and getting herself ready. She wears a short-sleeved white dress that is adorned with tiny pink and white flowers. The skirt of the dress flowed freely over her thighs and ended just above her knees, while the top of the dress hung loosely from her shoulders. She wears it with a belt that is the same dark brown color as her cowboy boots, which were a birthday gift from Jake two years prior.
She leaves her hair alone, not bothering to do anything special with it, and then applies a little make-up, aiming for a "no make-up" make-up look before putting on her jewelry. Her jewelry included a set of small, hooped earrings, her watch, a bracelet, and her cross-pendant necklace, which she wore every day.
"Are you ready to go?" Jake inquires, standing at the doorway as she clips her earrings into her earlobes
She nods and retrieves her small handbag from her bed, double-checking it before following him out of the little two-bedroom beachfront bungalow. "Where are we heading tonight?"
He sheepishly answers, "The Hard Deck."
After being here for 10 weeks, she gives him a little smack on the arm as they arrive at her rental car. "Here you were getting me all excited that we were going someplace new, finally asking me if I packed my boots because we're going dancing."
"I thought you loved the Hard Deck," he chuckles as he takes her keys and walks over to the driver's side. When he's around his sister, his country twang always comes out more strongly. "Oh, I'm sorry I forgot, you like going there to see the Rooster that's there."
"Bless your tiny little heart, Jake Seresin. How's the new girl doing, by the way? Have you chased her away with your oversized ego yet?" She retaliates as she climbs into the passenger seat. He glares at her, shaking his head, as he climbs into the driver's seat and drives to the navy bar they frequented.
-
"You're staring," Y/N hears Natasha say from beside her as they're sitting at a table watching Jake, Bradley and a few of the others around the pool table.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she denies glancing at her before returning her admire Bradley and raising her bottle of beer to her lips to take a drink. "He is a beautiful man," she continues, not denying that she finds him attractive.
Natasha scoffs, smirking at her and says, "Oh please, you and Rooster haven't exactly been subtle."
"I didn't think we were trying to be," she replies, looking back at her new friend.
Natasha turns to face the men after noticing a woman who wasn't wearing a navy uniform stroking Bradley's arm. She looks past the woman, seeing Jake's scowl as he eyes the hand that doesn't belong to his sister.
"Are you going to let her know that he's already taken?" Natasha asks, gesturing towards Bradley and the unknown woman.
When Bradley shrugs the woman's hand off his arm and says something to her, Y/N knows and trusts that Bradley has it handled. "I don't have to, but I'm going to make it known."
As a slow song starts playing on the jukebox, she gets out of her chair, leaves her empty bottle on the table, and walks towards Bradley. She approaches him and places a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention as she stands in front of him. He hands Bob the pool cue, his eyes not once leaving the woman in front of him, and moves his hands to her hips, tugging her closer.
"Dance with me?" She asks, looking up at him through her lashes.
"With you, always," he replies and takes her hand, leading her onto the small area that's cleared for a dance floor in front of the jukebox.
Standing in front of her, Bradley moves an arm around her waist, placing his large hand on the small of her back as the other takes her hand in his and holds it to his chest. He pulls her close as she lays her free hand on his shoulder and starts swaying to the music.
Never did she think coming to California would lead her into the arms of her brother's 'friendly' rival. From the moment Jake, reluctantly, introduced them, she knew her and Bradley would become great friends. Little did she know that they would become more than that.
She wasn't in San Diego two weeks when Bradley asked her to dinner, ignoring Jake's threats of shooting down his jet if he even dared touch his sister. Jake tried to convince her that Bradley only asked her on a date to spite him, but once he realized that there was no stopping the two, he gave up. But that didn't mean he didn't keep a close eye on them.
The more time Y/N spent with Bradley, the more she could feel herself falling in love with him. She tried to stop it, but it was impossible. Both she and Bradley had agreed that this would be a summer fling, but the thought of leaving to go back to Texas in two weeks makes her heart hurt.
"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" She hears Bradley's voice cut through her thoughts. She looks up at him, her eyes meeting his pretty ones.
"Let's go for a walk along the beach," she says, stepping out of his hold but keeping their hands interlocked as she pulls him out the bar doors.
As they walk along the beach, Bradley lets go of her hand and slings his arm across her shoulders and pulls her into his side. Y/N reaches her hand up, covering his hand with her own.
"What's got you so quiet?" He asks after a few minutes of them walking in silence, the only sound coming from the crashing of the waves and the music slowly fading in the background as they move further away from the bar.
"I don't want this to end," she tells him, looking towards the ocean, not wanting him to see her sadness as she thinks about her approaching departure date.
"Who says it has too?" He asks her as he stops walking and turns her to face him. Placing a finger under her chin, he tilts her head up so she'll look at him. "Who says it has to end?"
"I'm leaving in two weeks," she reminds him.
"Cancel your flight," he says like it's the simplest thing to do.
"I can't just cancel my flight," she says as though it's the most difficult thing to do.
"Why not?" He asks. "We can find you a house here. You're self-employed so you don't need to find a new job. You'll be closer to Jake and Nat and this," he pauses, pulling her closer, burying his head in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her sweet spot and his moustache tickling her skin. A soft and pleasurable sigh leaves her lips as she runs her hands through his curls before gently tugging his hair. He smiles, seeing that her eyes had closed as she enjoyed his affection, and plants a soft kiss on her lips. "doesn't have to end," he finishes when he pulls away.
Her eyes flutter open, and she bites the inside of her cheek as she thinks about what he's said. He did make a very convincing point.
"How can I say no to that?" She asks, a lazy smile on her lips as she looks up at him.
"You can't," he says, pecking her lips.
"Want to get out of here?" She asks, running her hands down his chest.
"You know I do," he answers stepping back from her, taking her hand and leading her back the way they came.
-
Y/N lets out a breathy chuckle against Bradley's lips as they stumble through her front door.
"Sorry," he mumbles against her lips, kissing her hungrily.
"No, you're not," she chuckles after breaking the kiss, stepping away from him. "There's one thing I need to do before this goes any further," she continues, holding her hand against his chest to stop him from advancing on her.
Y/N turns on her heel as Bradley whines in protest at the slight disruption. Taking her phone out of her handbag, before dropping the clutch to the floor as she pulls up her flight info. Bradley comes up behind her to see what she’s doing. His hands are on her hips as he places soft kisses along her shoulder and up her neck to her ear. She bites her lips, as she tilts her head to the side, giving him more access.
"What are you doing?" He asks, his warm breath hitting her ear and sending a shiver down her spine.
"I think you know what I'm doing," she smiles as he rests his head on her shoulder, watching her finger hover over the cancel option before pressing it and confirming it. She turns back around to face him, dropping her phone on the couch before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "After all, it was you who convinced me to do it."
"No regrets," he smiles and kisses her again as he lifts her off the floor and wraps her legs around his waist. Walking them into her bedroom, he kicks the door shut.
mat barzal where the reader wants rougher sex but has been too afraid to ask and lets it slip she wants him to choke her or something? and a flip just like switches within him and he fucks her until she can’t think anymore!
MB13.||mathew barzal.
smut.
mats girl telling him to choke her.
“Matttt,” I whined as his long fingers sunk into my pussy, his lips connected to my neck as he fingered me, leaving my mouth open in a soft gasp.
“Are you ready, baby?” he asked, pulling his fingers out and stroking himself right in front of me.
I nodded, watching him line himself up with my entrance before pushing inside. A loud moan escaped me as he gripped my hips, thrusting into me fast, but after a few moments, I began to pout.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pausing his movements and looking down at me.
I looked up at him with a sad expression, hesitant to speak. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” I said softly.
He stared at me, visibly confused. “Tell me.”
“I want you to be rough and choke me,” I admitted, dropping my gaze, unable to look him in the eyes.
Without a word, he grabbed my hips and flipped me onto my stomach. I gasped as my back arched, and before I could even adjust, he pounded back into me with raw, forceful energy.
I whimpered as his large hand wrapped firmly around my throat, a sudden wave of heat washing over me as my body processed the intense new sensations.
“Is this better?” he hissed against my ear, the sharp sound of skin clapping echoing through the room.
I screamed out in pleasure, feeling a wave of release building rapidly inside me as I clenched tightly around him.
“Look at me,” he commanded, squeezing my neck just enough to force my chin up so I was looking back at him. “Open.”
I obeyed, staring straight into his eyes as he spit directly into my mouth. The intense combination sent me right over the edge, my body trembling through an agonizingly sweet orgasm while I swallowed.
“Such a good girl,” he growled, the sharp palm of his hand smacking my ass as he kept up the relentless pace.
Summary: You have known Mat since your childhood. To you, he was just Mat, the boy from your neighbourhood who is your friend and sometimes bought you candy from the corner shop and also happens to be very good at hockey. But you also know Mat Barzal, the forward for the New York Islanders and you have convinced yourself that you would never date someone like him. But what if these two sides melt together and you realise that there might be more between you two?
Notes: strong language, alcohol, mentions of hook ups and making out, Mat is a bit of an ass, female reader
Very loosely based on Gracie Abrams' song Men Like You. No rambling from me except as a European, it physically hurt me to write the term soccer. As always, feedback is appreciated and I don't know him or the mentioned characters and this is not an accurate description of anyone's characteristics.
You barely remember a time where Mat was not in your life.
Both of you grew up together in the same neighbourhood although you knew his sister Liana first as you played soccer in the same team.
After every practice it became normal that either your or Liana’s parents picked you up and stayed at each other’s houses to hang out for a while until you ate dinner together. Naturally, you became close and until today you refer to Liana as your bonus sister.
In theory, this would make Mat your bonus brother, but to you, this term does not quite sound right. Whenever you visited the Barzals, Mat was not far away, but as he is a bit older than you, which is a lot in your teens, you did not interact much at first as he was also away often and you had nothing in common.
That’s what you thought until he learned that you are a huge hockey fan. Your father, a diehard Canucks fan who practically follows every game, has dragged you to some games at Rogers Arena when possible and the theme song of Hockey Night in Canada is a familiar tune in your ears.
It started with talking about recent NHL results at dinner and ended with watching his junior games when the schedule allowed it. Usually, you would cheer for him together with his family and when he played away from home, he told you all about it when he returned home while eating ice cream as a dessert.
Even when he moved to Seattle as a teenager, you still talked from time to time, though much less than you used to. But as soon as he returned home for the summer break, the comfortable rhythm of spending time together with his sister at his childhood house, came back quickly as if he had never left.
Of course, you did notice the increased attention he received over the years.
Wherever Mat went, he unintentionally brought all the spotlight on him. The local neighbourhood knew that he is the kid that has a good shot at being drafted and at school, he was popular and known for being a heartthrob.
To you, he was always just Mat, your friend who hates it when his sandwiches are horizontally cut and also happens to be good at playing hockey.
—
Eventually, he was drafted by the New York Islanders, which you had of course followed over the TV and you had texted him excitedly as you knew how hard he worked for that.
Congrats Mat ur insane!! XO The Big Apple it is!!
I can’t believe it! You and Liana need to visit one day.
Since that moment, following the NHL felt different.
You were no longer children sitting at the couch together and talking shop about what went wrong in that power play or cheering for Team Canada together - now there was an actual possibility that Mat could play against all the players you used to admire in front of the TV.
Ultimately, it happened and he made this NHL debut. Shortly after, his first NHL goal against none other than Lundqvist from the Rangers followed and suddenly, the whole league was talking about him.
During this year, you noticed that contact became much less frequent. You saw him on TV, in the news and on social media, but the usual texts were more often left on read, almost as if he became untouchable over night.
You never held it against him because you knew everything went back to normal when he returned to Coquitlam. Every summer you would see him again and he would be grateful to not have to act as Mat Barzal, the hockey player, and instead, could do a Lord of the Rings movie marathon after dinner or eat donuts at Tim Hortons with you.
—
Everything changed when you graduated a few years later and applied for universities.
While Liana was firm on staying in Canada, your heart yearned for NYU. Ever since you visited the campus once during that one time you watched an Islander game in Long Island, you immediately fell in love with the vibrance and surroundings.
Soon, the admission to study accounting at NYU came in and you remember feeling the same excitement you had when Mat was drafted, which made you realise that you were about to move closer to Mat and might spend more time together with him.
Liana had noticed the same and did not shy away to ask you about it.
“Did you decide for NYU because of my brother?”
“Of course not,” you vehemently denied. “I mean, it might have crossed my mind once or twice, but you know how much I loved it there when we visited.”
She had just knowingly nodded her head and you had not thought about it further.
When you told Mat the news while sitting at his parent’s patio, he visibly lightened up.
“We can finally meet up again, just like in old times!”
You just chuckled in response. “Mat, you live in Long Island and I will be living in a dorm at NYU. That is still a respectable distance.”
“Well, no, you are going to live at mine, of course,” he answered without hesitation. “My apartment is big enough anyway, you could easily move in the guest room. We can even get you one of these height adjustable desks so you won’t die of back pain during finals.”
You quickly blinked and looked at him in disbelief. But his expression did not move at all, meaning he was totally serious with his offer. He said it in such a casual manner - as if it was the most normal thing in the world to offer a friend to live with him in his apartment, which probably cost more rent than whatever you will earn in the future.
“Mat, how do you imagine that this is going to work? I would have to commute all the time and I can’t even afford a fraction of the rent you are paying right now.”
Mat just playfully rolls his eyes. “Duh, you are not going to pay anything, of course. Mom would kill me if I asked you for anything. I can afford it, you’re like one of my best friends.”
For some reason, hearing the word best friend from his mouth left you with a tingling sensation in your body. Sure, you also consider Mat as one of your closest friends, but does every close friend get the opportunity to move in with their friend who earns millions for playing hockey?
“I even pick you up from uni as often as I can,” Mat promised as he interpreted your silence as a rejection.
“Don’t be silly.” You snickered. “You don’t want to drive all the way to NYU after an exhausting day.” But your smile voice revealed your true feelings. “But the idea of being your roommate might not be too bad, at least I will know someone already. Though I’m already having nightmares about the commuting time.”
“Is that a yes?”
You just happily nodded and Mat went in for a hug, which you cheerfully accepted. All these years you have spent every summer waiting for him to come home and now you are going to see him almost every day of your week even though his offer was way too generous and you would never be able to pay him back for this. But this is just the Mat you knew - the one who despite the fame, never forgets where he comes from and still deeply cares about his loved ones.
—
Living with Mat was even better than you thought it would be.
Staying true to his words, he had bought and built you the height-adjustable desk at IKEA and just let you decorate the space however you want to. You even had to physically prevent him from buying the whole store as he was about to put everything in his cart that you mustered longer than a few minutes. Eventually, you did end up with a bigger wardrobe and an additional bookshelf, which he of course also refused to let you pay.
There were still a few weeks until your orientation week started, so Mat did his best to show you around the city in his limited time and you got to learn his favourite coffee and food spots. Once again, you asked yourself how you got so lucky to have such an amazing friend like him.
Not only that but he even kept his promise of picking you up as much as he could. Despite the New York traffic, he always asked you when you were finished and you often responded that you might still spend some time at the library or with your learning group, but nonetheless, he always waited for you, even if it meant waiting until midnight.
The other times you commuted from Long Island to NYU three times a week, which definitely cost you a lot of time, nerves and money, but as soon as you came home to Mat, it all felt worth it. The evenings you spent together always remained the best - the ones you either made dinner together or the person who was home first did it first and afterwards you did the same movie marathons that you had done as kids.
In the meantime, the season had started again and you finally were able to attend some of his games, just like you did when you were kids.
Mat had made sure that you were sitting in the family and friends suite, which led to you meeting the other WAGs of his teammates. They immediately gave you a warm welcome and you quickly integrated with them as if you had been here since forever.
”So you’re the famous friend,” Sydney Martin had told you at your first meeting with a smirking expression.
Nervously, you played around with your fingers, unsure how to react. “What do you mean?”
The other WAGs just laughed in a heartfelt manner, which just made you even more insecure.
”Honey, Mat talks about you all the time. He always tells stories of his summers and how much time he spends with you. When he told us that you were gonna move in with him, he literally could not shut up about it,” Sydney immediately cleared up and you just sighed in relief as if you were not sure what exactly he had told them about his life in Coquitlam.
“He’s literally obsessed with you. Please tell me you are at least fucking,” another girlfriend added in a slightly teasing tone and you somehow feel the heat in your cheeks coming up.
”I don’t date men like him. They’re one of a kind,” you talked back with a provoking grin and their laughter just increased.
—-
You did not lie when you said you didn’t want to date men like him, which means hockey players, and unfortunately, Mat’s behaviour had shown you exactly why.
As someone who grew up in Canada, you knew about the toxic culture that revolves around dating an athlete, especially those who might make it into the higher leagues. You have heard countless awful stories from your friends about their hockey boyfriends in high school cheating on them and how terrible they had treated them.
And as much as you liked Mat and as much as he treated you well, his history with women seemed to have changed ever since he moved away.
Obviously, you had not expected him to stay single forever and you definitely understood why he would enjoy his twenties and have some fun.
It was not even the fact that you sometimes came home late and you could hear high-pitched screams from his bedroom because that’s what noise cancelling headphones are for. Or the fact that you had breakfast in the morning and saw someone sneaking around who would freeze at your sight, which you just would just answer with a short don’t worry, I’m just the roommate and then offer them coffee and breakfast to not make it awkward - no this didn’t bother you at all.
It was bothering you because it also impacted your social life.
Since Mat played a huge role in your life, it was basically impossible to not mention him whenever you met new people at university. Even though you mostly kept it vague and avoided mentioning that he’s the star player for the Islanders, people were still immediately charmed when he picked you up and they managed to have some small talk with him.
It was truly a vicious cycle because every time this happened, you could already predict how it eventually would end. First, they asked you if he is available, which you obviously answer with a yes, but be careful he is not known for doing serious relationships. Somehow they still asked him for his number the next time he came (because you simply refused to play matchmaker for his liaisons) and then it was not a surprise anymore if you saw them in any shape at your shared home.
Sometimes they even managed to be invited to a game of his, in which you somehow became the person to awkwardly introduce them to the other wives and girlfriends who are also aware of Mat’s tantrums, but still greeted the new girl in a friendly manner despite not being sure how long she would be around. This was also the only time you did not wear his jersey because you didn’t want to seem like the cliché female friend who sabotaged relationships.
Most of the time however, it would end with crying voice messages from them, asking you how he could be so cruel and just end it like that. As the empathetic person you are, you just sighed and stopped yourself from saying I told you so and tried to comfort them as best as you could. Yet most of these connections fell into oblivion as they could not bear your friendship with Mat, which you could not even be mad about.
It left you to wonder whether this friendship will be your downfall because somehow your life is constantly defined by him. Obviously, you scolded him for his behaviour a lot, communicating that he couldn’t treat people like this, which he defended with they know it’s not serious. And yet, you could never be too mad at him because you knew of his heart of gold when he cared about someone and to you, he was still behaving like the boy from Coquitlam who bought you candy from the corner shop.
—-
There was just this one weird incident that left you wondering if you really knew him.
One day, when you celebrated his birthday a bit too hard, his best friend Anthony and you had to drag him home together as he was way too muscular for you to carry him upstairs alone, especially since you were a bit drunk yourself.
Despite the vocal objections, you managed to get him to his bed and you promised Tito that you would be able to take care of him as he had asked you if you were comfortable enough to do that alone.
”Believe me, I’ve seen worse.” You gave Tito a feigned painful grin, which he answered with a heartfelt giggle. Immediately, the times where you managed to catch a glimpse of his toned back and ass when he once again thought that clothes or towels were optional when leaving the bathroom, making you flustered at the memory.
”Let me know if he’s being a pain in the ass again. Sorry for ending your party early as well, but he insisted that you would leave together because that’s what you two always do.”
You just assuredly shook your head and smile internally at the last part. “Don’t worry, thanks for helping me.”
You heard the click of the closing door and now looked at the now passed out figure of Mat. He looked so peaceful in such a position, similarly when he had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day, which always made you put a blanket over him. It reminded you of the early days where you used to have movie marathons at the Barzals. Usually, it was you who fell asleep first and Mat had picked you up without thinking twice and carried you upstairs to Liana’s room.
You let out a small laugh at the memory, which apparently woke up Mat as let out a small groan.
“What are you laughing about? Come here!” He slurred and you sat down beside him at the corner of his bed.
“Birthday boy, you might have gone a bit overboard with the shots,” you snickered at the sight of him as he tried to rub the tiredness out of his eyes.
With a direct glance at him, you pointed at his clothes. “Come on, you need to get out of your clothes. Or else, you might regret it in the morning.”
”Nah,” he simply told you and you just rolled at his attitude.
”Don’t be annoying. Otherwise, I have to do that.”
You had barely finished the sentence and immediately held your hand in front of your mouth, just realising the double entendre behind it. For some reason, heat built up in your cheek area and you just hoped he would not notice.
But even in the dark, you saw his smug grin that you could not classify. Was he mocking you or did he secretly enjoy what you said?
”I would like to see you try, sweetheart.” Suddenly his voice had acquired a rasp that you had never heard before and the nickname made your mind go crazy.
What the fuck was happening right now?
With no forewarning, Mat had gotten ahold of your waist and suddenly you found yourself lying beside him, caged in his arms. You let out a quiet shriek as you could now stare deeply into his clear eyes.
For a while, you just lied there frozen and all you felt was his hot breath that smelled like the cheap vodka from the bar in your face. His hands comfortably laid on your back and the way you could feel his hand imprints through the thin material of your spaghetti top made your mind go crazy.
You could always leave, but why did your mind tell you to come closer?
”Mat, what are you doing?” You finally whispered, not daring to even move an inch.
”Can you please kiss me?”
This must be some sick and twisted joke.
You couldn’t believe your ears and as if he could read your mind, he repeated himself, this time in a much stronger tone.
”Please kiss me. I need to taste you at least once in my life.”
Finally, you came to your senses again and realised the ridiculousness of all of this.
”Mat, stop it. You are drunk. You don’t know what you are talking about.”
You gave him no time to react as you quickly slipped out of his embrace and ran out of his room and locked yourself in the bathroom.
With your heart still racing as if you had run a marathon, you splashed some water in your face and sat down on the cold tiles, leaning against the bathtub with your knees against your face.
Never ever in your year-long friendship did you experience such an intense moment with him. And the worst part was that you had felt the spark and almost given in. But it was just unfair towards him, he was drunk out of his mind and not in the position to form a clear thought. Even worse, you had promised yourself that you would never date men like him because you had seen the way he broke someone’s heart. But why did he still look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world?
After that night, you pretended as if nothing happened and never talked about it again. You took it as a sign that he either did not remember it or he realised that he was just talking nonsense.
—
Some time had passed by and you had finally graduated and found a nice entry-level job in Brooklyn. Obviously, your parents, Mat and Liana all came to your graduation and you did the same for Liana.
When your parents asked you when you wanted to move out, now that you were earning your own money, you had just shrugged your shoulders.
“We’re extremely grateful that you did all this for our daughter,” your mother told Mat while you were at the restaurant celebrating your degree. “But you can’t possibly continue paying all her expenses and not getting anything in return.”
“Mom, I already offered him a thousand times to pay rent and food,” you annoyingly rolled your eyes and Mat laughed in agreement.
“I seriously don’t mind. I can easily afford it and she pays it back in keeping this apartment alive when I’m gone and making the world's best Chicken Alfredo pasta.”
Later, when your parents had returned to their hotel and Liana and you had made it comfortable in your room, almost ready to sleep, she confronted you again.
“Are you and my brother like a thing? Don’t lie.”
You just awkwardly avoided her demanding stare and vehemently shook your head.
“No, he’s still on the market as far as I’m aware? I don't know Liana, we don’t really talk about stuff like this.”
“Then why does he look at you like you hung the moon?”
Your mouth twitched at her choice of words. “You are imagining things. Mat just likes my company the same way he did when we were kids. He just likes the feeling of having something familiar nearby.”
“Did something else happen between you two?” Liana continued to ask, clearly not believing a word you said.
“I’m not sure what you are implying, but there was never anything else but friendship. The same one that we have.” You huffed in an annoyed tone and turned out the lights as a sign to put an end to this discussion.
While you conveniently left out what had happened on his birthday, you did not lie about the friendship part. You still did the same things you did when you were at university though you did notice that hook ups significantly decreased ever since that situation at his birthday. He no longer messed with friends you made, which you were extremely thankful for. You still went to his games, he still picked you up from work sometimes. You still watched movies in the evening together or tried out new food spots you had seen in Instagram reels. Except that maybe now, you started to overthink interactions more and wondered if they had a bigger meaning than you thought.
But the truth is also that you had become so attached to him that you also did not want to move out because you were scared what this would mean. Almost as if you were leaving something behind that you would not get back if you left his apartment forever.
—
Another birthday of his came up and once again, you celebrated at the club.
Unfortunately, Liana could not make it as she had moved to London after her graduation, but promised to visit soon.
You found yourself sitting lost in thought at the bar, nipping at the Caipirinha as you realised that setting and time were the exact same when Mat had asked you to kiss him.
It was not the first time where you had reflected on this situation and you always came to the conclusion that made you wonder if things could be different if you had kissed him in this moment. Obviously, you still thought that you handled it in the correct way because there was always the possibility that it would have ruined everything between you and the mere thought of losing him already made you panic.
However, sometimes you could just not let go of the possibility that you could be much more than that and ever since that night, you started to believe that Mat might not be like the men you disliked so much.
“What are you doing here all alone?”
You looked up and it was Holly Horvat who sat down beside you. Over the years, some of the Islanders WAGs have become one of your closest friends, which also had something to do with the fact that you knew that they would definitely not use you to get closer to Mat.
“Why are you not out partying with your man? You’re looking hot and it’s his birthday!”
“Holly, will you finally quit it? He is not my man.”
“Yeah, not officially. But we all know that you are untouchable. Bo always tells me about the deadly looks Mat gives to the teammates who even consider getting closer to you. This man claims you!” Holly snickered.
“Well, he already knows that I don’t date hockey players, but sure whatever.” You just shrugged your shoulders and took another sip from your drink and suddenly, the bitterness of your drink transferred to your own feelings. “He might claim me as his, but he sure as hell isn’t mine.”
Your sight moves to the left in which you could observe Mat sitting in the private lounge, making out with some girl he probably just met. It’s normal, you say to yourself. It is his birthday, of course, he was here to have fun. He isn’t yours and he was free to do whatever he wanted to.
Discreetly, Holly followed your gaze and as she spotted the same, she just spat out a contemptuous men out of her mouth.
“Oh Mat is truly stupid, but you already know that. Babe, believe me when I say that I can see from this distance that he does not even rudimentarily look at her the same way he does at you,” She assured you and you just let out a bitter laugh.
“I don’t care. He can do whatever he wants.”
Slightly annoyed by your moping, Holly held her head in her hands and shook her head. “You two are so dense and blind, it is unbelievable! You are so green with envy and there is absolutely no reason to. Go over to them and claim him, he will follow you anywhere.”
But you just determinedly emptied your drink and grabbed your jacket from the chair. “I’m kinda tired from all of this. I’m going home.”
Carefully, you wrapped your arms around her. “I’ll see you next time. Tell the others bye from me, okay?”
Holly barely had the time to protest as you strolled away quicker than Mat did when he won fastest skater competition at All-Stars.
But Holly did know that she had one simple job and she knew you were gonna thank her at your wedding for this so she quickly walked over to Mat and pointed at the crowd of people in which you had disappeared.
—
The fresh air of the New York City night hit you immediately as you decided to walk a bit away from the club until you were going to order your Uber.
However, you did not come far as you suddenly heard someone calling your name and you could decipher this voice in every crowd, in every room as it always screamed familiarity to you.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
You turned around to none other than Mat who apparently had run up the stairs in order to catch up to you as he slightly sounded out of breath.
“Just tired. I’m going home,” you answered in a curt manner. ”You go back in, it’s your birthday after all. Go have fun like you always do”
For some reason, the way you talked to him angered so much that he changed his tone to the same irritating tone when you changed a song in the middle of a song he liked on your shared Spotify playlist.
“We always promised to each other that we would go home together. And now, of all days, you are leaving me on my birthday?”
You just huffed in response. “Well, you had plenty of fun without me. Figured I could go home and mentally prepare myself to offer breakfast to your birthday present the next morning.” This time, you did not even try to hide the mocking undertone.
Mat’s whole face frowned at your accusation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why are you suddenly acting like this?” He took a step forward to reach out for you, but you immediately shied away, slapping his hand away from you.
Suddenly, the words just flowed out of your mouth. “It means that I’m sick and tired of you trying to act as if everything revolves around you. Mister star from the Islanders who gets everything he wants. Even if it means that I have to pretend that I’m okay with you destroying my acquaintances because you could not help yourself and break their hearts. Or comforting your liaisons why you are suddenly ending it because that’s apparently what men like you do.”
“I never asked you to do that. You could just do the same as I did and I wouldn’t care, alright? Did you expect me to just mope around after you rejected me? I asked you to kiss me and you ran away. What is it that you want from me now?”
You just laugh in disbelief. “Mathew, did you seriously believe I’m like one of your hook ups? Yeah, I rejected you because you were drunk and I refuse to be your disposable toy. I did it because our friendship means so much more to me even though I really wanted to kiss you back. I really wanted to convince myself that you are not the person that you always were when you broke my friend’s hearts. I wanted to believe I mean much more to you.”
His angered expression abruptly changed to a dumbfounded, but you had enough. You knew whatever he was going to say right now would make you cry.
Finally, you turned away and walked away as fast as you could, tears already dwelling in your eyes.
You heard him calling out your name, but you didn’t even bother to turn around and instead, made clear that he should not even dare to follow you.
“Go to fucking hell, Mathew!”
—
After that, you knew you weren’t ready to go home yet and just walked through New York City without a plan where to.
You knew you were being reckless right now as someone could just take advantage of your disoriented and tipsy state, but you were too upset to care.
Ultimately, you found a bench to sit in one of many parks in New York and finally, let out all the tears that had built up from your confrontation with Mat.
While going through all of it in your head again, you realised that you might have not acted in the most graceful manner either. Perhaps you did slutshame a bit too much and maybe you should have not let your jealousy get ahead of you and make you confess your true feelings amidst a fight.
But you just couldn’t bear his two-faced personality anymore, especially after he said that did not care about who you slept with, essentially confirming that he truly just wanted to sleep with you, a fact that made your heart break all over again.
You looked at your phone and as you looked at the clock while ignoring the countless messages from the others at the party, asking where you went, you realised that the only person who might understand you is in a completely different timezone and probably sleeping in on her free day.
Nonetheless, you dialed Liana’s number because you knew you could always count on her and you would always do the same for her.
You heard the beep tones that indicated that they tried to connect you to the other end for a long time, almost giving up, but then heard a dozy voice coming through.
“Hello? Geez, do you even know what time it is here? Aren’t you supposed to celebrate my brother’s birthday right now?”
You didn’t find the voice to answer back as another sob broke through you and Liana immediately clocked what happened and suddenly sounded wide awake.
“What did he do?!”
While barely catching a breath and barely being able to not cry again after every sentence, you told her everything from the beginning. From the time at university to now and how over all these years, the lines began to blur. Then that one incident on his previous birthday that had changed everything between you even though you didn’t know it back then. Obviously, you essentially confirmed that she was right when she had asked you about her brother. Eventually, you told her what happened just a few hours ago and that was when you sobbed without being able to stop.
Liana, of course, tried to comfort you and told you it was okay to feel hurt while at the same time cussing out her brother for acting like such an asshole all the time.
Eventually, you heard her taking a deep breath.
“You know, these hockey players - they all share the same braincell, I swear to god.”
The blunt wording made you laugh for the first time that night and you thought of the times when you two were at the ice rink, watching Mat’s junior games and loudly judging the way hockey players acted.
“But you know,” she continued. “My brother might be an idiot and act like a bitch, but he is also an idiot that is in love with you and too stupid to say something.”
“W-what?” You stammered, unsure if it was your drunk mind playing dumb games with you or if you had heard right. “Mat’s in love with me?”
“Yes, he is. He already was back then. When we were at his games together. And you are too, you idiot,” she said in an almost unbothered tone as if it was a well-known fact. “He used to store your favourite popsicle flavour in another freezer drawer so that nobody else could eat them. That’s when I knew.”
“B-but he had a girlfriend at high school back then! Why did he never say something?”
Liana just sighed in despair, indicating that she could not believe that you were still not getting it. “I thought we already concluded that hockey players only share one brain cell. Obviously, he is stupid and didn’t realise it yet. Then that one night when you almost kissed. You ran away and he thought you didn’t like him like that.
When you walked away at the club today, he probably realised that you wouldn’t stay with him forever if you truly didn’t want to. Because you were always there and everything was comfortable.”
She cleared her throat again before she concluded her explanation process. “Mat loves you and no one else. Always have been. Our parents know, yours do and everyone at New York Islanders probably knows, including the canteen lady and equipment manager.”
Finally, you were able to put on a small smile as the realisation finally kicked in. Mat is in love with you and so are you.
“Okay, you are onto something. I really am in love with him.”
You heard a relieved outcry from the other side of the phone. “Fucking finally. I thought I had to lock you in the basement to make you confess. You two are so annoying.”
You laughed at her dramatic demeanour in a heartfelt manner, but she didn’t seem to be too amused.
“Stop laughing and finally tell him. I will now go back to sleep and I swear to god, if I don’t get a message from you when I wake up that does not hardlaunch your relationship, I will take the next flight to New York and hunt you down.”
“Okay okay, I will do as you say. Sorry again for interrupting your beauty sleep. Thank you again and love you.” You both bidded your farewells and as you ended the call, you knew there was only one place where you should be right now.
—
The sun was about to rise when you finally arrived at your apartment and turned the key in the lock.
As soon as you entered, you saw Mat sitting on the couch - the one where you usually lie and watch movies together - who seemed to be in a tense state right now.
At your sight, he froze, unsure how to react as he slowly mustered your figure, standing at the entry to the living room.
“Hi,” you simply said in a soft tone, which he returned.
“Hi. I wasn’t sure if you were going to come home.”
“Me neither.” You laughed nervously. “Can we talk?”
Mat nodded in agreement and you sat down beside him, still maintaining a respectful distance. On your way home, you had prepared what you wanted to say at least a thousand times, but now that the situation was actually happening, you realised that nothing could have prepared you for this moment.
For a moment, you just sat there together and tried to think of what to say.
Eventually, Mat broke the ice and started to talk.
“Did you mean what you said before?”
You let out a short laugh. “Depends which part?”
He returned the gesture and nodded in understanding. “Preferably, the one where you said you wanted to kiss me on that night of my birthday, but didn’t.”
Nervously, you put your hands on your thighs, unable to form a coherent thought. Now there was no point of return. You just had to tell him how you feel.
“Of course. Mat, I think I always loved you. I just didn’t know until that night. That night, I wanted you so much, but then I just thought about how you acted with my friends and it messed with my head. I thought it was just drunk you talking the same shit you told them and I panicked.”
You prepared yourself for the eventual rejection that you still feared even though Liana assured you a million times that it will not. But you could not just erase the last few years and his past behaviour out of your mind - for that, there was just too much history between you two.
But it never came as Mat slowly moved closer to you, now only sitting inches away from you and directly looking into your mascara smeared eyes.
You almost forgot to breathe because how could he still look so good at 5 AM in the morning, with his floppy hair and eyes of an angel. How could you not fall for him?
“I always loved you too. I just needed so much time to realise and I’m sorry for being an idiot to you. You were just always there and I just took that for granted when in reality, you had to tolerate and deal with my stupid jock behaviour.”
Carefully, you closed the distance between you two so that your knees were finally touching. Without hesitation, you wrapped your hand around his, which he immediately squeezed as if he would hold onto his dear life. You leaned your head against his broad shoulder and as you sunk into it, you asked yourself if all of this was real.
“I love you now and loved you then. And I promise you that I won’t run away from you anymore.”
For the first time, you truly believed what he told you as his firm fingers stroked your hand as if it was the most valuable thing in the world while looking at you as if you were the only person in the world.
It was your sign to finally be bold and do what you should have done much earlier as you took your other hand and put it around his neck to move him near you. With full conviction, you pressed your lips against his as you melted into his as if they had always belonged there.
Eventually, he cupped your cheek and initiated another one and you could just feel the love and devotion in it. Right now, your stomach was full of butterflies and you just knew he was feeling it too.
All these years, you had danced around your feelings, comfortably stayed in the grey zone without even thinking of breaking out, but now you had finally found yourself at the right place and right time. And there was no place where you would rather be right now.
As you shared another few deep kisses, you found yourself on his lap, comfortably making yourself home there, until you chuckled to yourself.
“You know what? I’m glad I didn’t kiss you that one night.”
Mat raised his eyebrows in question. “Why’s that?”
“Because now I can be 100% sure that this is real and you are aware of it too.” Once again, you touched his warm cheek and pressed another quick peck on his lips, just to make sure again that all of this was happening.
“Best birthday present ever.” He winked at you and suddenly pushed you on the couch and attacked you with more kisses, which you happily accepted.
It might have taken a while to realise, but in the end it had always been you. And you had no plans to ever change that.
hi queen can I perchance request a first time with mat barzal 🫶 hes so fine i need him biblically
MB13.||mathew barzal.
smut.
first time with mat.
I chewed on my lip, watching Mat’s naked body in front of me. The way his broad shoulders and abs flexed without him even trying made me softer and wetter than I already was.
Mat and I had been dating for six months now, and after plenty of late-night conversations, we had finally decided it was time to take this step together—mostly upon my desperate request.
I slowly parted my legs, sliding my fingers down to rub against my clit, keeping my eyes locked on his as he climbed onto the bed and hovered over me.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he licked his lips.
He gently took my wrist, moving my hand away to replace it with his own. Looking down at me with heavy, dark eyes, he leaned over, spitting lightly onto his fingers before spreading the warmth across my heat. Before I could catch my breath, he lowered his head between my thighs. His tongue swiped over me, lapping and sucking until my back arched straight off the mattress.
“Mat... oh fuck, Mat,” I moaned, reaching down to grab at his dark hair. I pulled him closer, shuddering as I felt the hot tip of his tongue working its magic inside me.
He pulled back after a long, agonizing moment, smiling up at me with lips slick and glossy. He lined himself up and slowly slid his thick cock inside me, taking his time until he was fully buried. A high-pitched squeal escaped my throat at the sudden fullness.
“So big... ugh,” I moaned, gripping his muscular arm tightly for support.
Mat groaned loudly in response, the incredible tightness wrapping around him making him look thoroughly flustered.
“Fuck... why did we wait so long?” he asked between ragged pants, setting a steady, deliberate rhythm.
“Ahhh... ugh!” My moans grew louder as he quickened his pace, the smooth, powerful thrusts making me feel completely weightless, like I was floating right off the bed.
“Feels so damn good,” he growled directly into my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.
I let out a breathless cry of pure pleasure as a deep, intense knot began to coil tight in the pit of my stomach. Every stroke pushed me closer to the edge, the friction driving me out of my mind.
“Mat, I’m going to cum!” I cried out, panting heavily as the sensation became almost too intense to bear.
“Cum for me, baby,” he encouraged, his voice low and commanding as he picked up the speed.
The coil snapped, and a wave of intense pleasure washed over me as my body convulsed around him, coating his cock in my warm cream.
“Good girl,” he whispered against my neck.
Even as the initial shock of my climax began to settle, Mat didn’t stop. He maintained his firm, rhythmic thrusts, riding through the sensitive aftershocks of my release, driving us both toward an even higher peak.
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pairing – husband!rafe cameron x wife!reader
summary – six teenage boys make the unfortunate mistake of discussing mrs cameron within rafe’s hearing range.
warnings – strong language, teenage rule-breaking, sexual comments, lowkey objectification, possessive jealousy, suggestive.
notes from me – oh my god i love them so bad!!!!!! based loosely on these requests, thank u my babies!! <3
word count – 2.7k
navigation – masterlist | wife!reader masterlist
Rafe has been home for eleven days, which is long enough for the house to stop treating him like a guest and begin assigning him work again. The first three days had been almost pleasant.
Lila followed him from room to room with the solemn devotion of a small, talkative shadow. Marlowe pretended she hadn’t missed him and then spent forty minutes sitting on the floor of his office while he answered emails, offering unrequested commentary about every person who called. His wife slept later than seven twice, which felt like an achievement worthy of champagne.
Banks lasted until day four before getting caught skipping his last class to take somebody’s dirt bike down a maintenance road near the dunes. So Rafe stayed home.
He moved meetings, ignored three increasingly anxious messages from Charleston and told the office he was taking two weeks, possibly three, depending on whether his son rediscovered basic survival instinct. His wife had looked at him across the kitchen island with one eyebrow lifted and asked whether he was taking time off or establishing martial law.
“Time off,” he’d said.
Banks, standing beside the fridge with his car keys newly confiscated, had muttered, “Feels like martial law.”
Rafe had pointed toward the stairs without looking at him. “Keep talking.”
Banks had stopped.
Now, on a bright Saturday morning, Rafe stands over the grill with a wire brush in one hand and six sixteen-year-old boys sprawled across the back deck behind him like laundry nobody has folded.
Their shoes are abandoned near the sliding door. Three empty cans of soda sweat rings into the outdoor table. Somebody has brought a speaker and is playing music low enough that Rafe has chosen not to complain, mostly because the boys have forgotten he exists.
It’s unexpectedly useful.
They talk differently when they stop performing for adults. The conversation rolls between school, somebody’s terrible new haircut, a rumour about the lacrosse coach and an argument over whether Tyler actually kissed two girls at the same party or only told two different girls that he had.
Rafe scrapes another line of burned grease from the grate and listens without turning around. His wife is going to love this.
She calls it tea, which Rafe finds embarrassing for everybody involved, but she also once sat cross-legged on their bed for nearly an hour while he relayed an argument he’d overheard between Marlowe and two girls from dance.
She’d asked follow-up questions. She’d made him repeat exact wording. At one point, she’d put down her moisturiser and said, “No, no, go back. What did Ava say after Marlowe called her exhausting?”
Rafe hadn’t known what that meant at thirteen. He’s fairly certain he only knew three emotions at that age, and two of them were anger.
Behind him, one of Banks’ friends laughs hard enough to choke on his drink. “Bro, no chance she said that.”
“She did,” another boy insists. “Right in front of everybody.”
“Who?”
“Steph.”
Rafe’s hand slows against the grill. There’s a tiny pause behind him. The sudden, collective awareness of boys who have stepped near information one of them doesn’t want examined.
Then somebody says, “Banks, bro, how is Steph goin’?”
Rafe turns his head just enough to catch his son cutting a quick look toward him.
Banks is stretched low in one of the patio chairs, long legs kicked beneath the table, sunglasses pushed into his hair.
At sixteen, he has begun taking up space the way Rafe does without noticing it – shoulders broadening, knees always in somebody’s way, one arm draped along the chair beside him like the world was built slightly too small.
His expression closes the second he sees Rafe looking.
“Shut up,” Banks mutters.
The boys erupt.
Banks shoves one of them in the shoulder and says, “I’m serious, dude. Shut the fuck up.”
Rafe turns back to the grill before his mouth gives him away. Steph. Interesting.
He files it away for later, somewhere between Tyler lying about his sexual history and Banks having referred to somebody named Cooper as a desperate little freak for posting gym selfies.
His wife will enjoy all of it. She’ll probably ask what Steph’s surname is, and Rafe will have no idea, and then she’ll accuse him of gathering incomplete intelligence.
The back gate clicks below the deck. A second later, Lila’s voice carries up the stairs before the rest of her does. “Daddy!”
Rafe sets the brush down just in time for six years of wet limbs and tangled towel to come flying toward him.
She’s wrapped in a faded pink beach towel from her shoulders to her ankles, her damp hair slicked backward from her face and her feet leaving little dark marks over the boards.
Rafe catches her beneath the arms when she launches, lifting her against his chest while the towel loosens.
“Hey, baby girl.” He settles her onto one hip and pulls the towel higher over her shoulders. Her skin is cool and pebbled beneath his hand despite the heat. “How was the water?”
Lila nods so violently her wet hair slaps against her cheek. “So good. I went splash, and then the water went sploooosh–” Her arm shoots out from the towel, nearly catching Rafe beneath the chin. “–and then Mama had to come get me because I went too far, but I wasn’t too far. Mama just couldn’t see because the wave was big.”
“Right,” Rafe says, looking down the steps. “Sounds responsible.”
His wife reaches the top as Lila begins reenacting the wave against his shoulder. She has a canvas beach bag hanging from one elbow and Lila’s sandals hooked through two fingers.
A pale sarong is knotted low around her waist over a black bikini, damp hair pushed back from her face and drying in uneven bends over her shoulders. There’s a faint strip of sand along one shin and a pink flush high over her chest from the sun.
Rafe forgets the grill. It happens with humiliating regularity. He’ll be in the middle of something normal – opening mail, finding a missing shoe, explaining why the pool company has overcharged them – and she’ll walk into the room looking like that, like three children and half a lifetime have somehow only given her more places for his attention to catch.
Her stomach is softer than it was when they were eighteen. Her hips curve beneath the sarong in a way his hands know better than his own.
There’s a thin silver stretch mark near one side of her waist that he can see when the fabric shifts, left by Banks or Marlowe or Lila; he doesn’t remember which anymore, only that each of their children changed her and somehow made her look more specifically his.
Every version of her body has held some part of their life.
She looks up and smiles at him, attention moving first to Lila shivering in his arms and then to his face. Rafe’s chest pulls tight in the familiar place.
Unfortunately, Banks’ friends have eyes.
He notices because they all go quiet in stages. One boy stops halfway through opening a bag of chips. Another sits up. Tyler, the liar, looks at her for one second too long before glancing quickly toward the ocean as though he has developed a sudden interest in tides.
Rafe’s grip tightens around Lila. Not because he’s jealous of teenage boys. He’s a grown man. A husband. A father. He owns property and has employees and understands at least seventy percent of his mortgage.
Still. Little fucks.
His wife either doesn’t notice or chooses not to. Her entire focus remains on Lila as she steps closer and rubs both hands over the child’s towel-covered arms. “Come on, sweet girl. Let’s get you into a warm shower, yeah? Then I’ll make you some lunch.”
“Yes, please!” Lila immediately begins wriggling out of Rafe’s hold with no concern for gravity.
He lowers her to the deck, catches the towel before it falls and wraps it around her again. “Walk. Boards are slippery.”
“I know, Daddy.”
She runs anyway.
His wife watches her disappear through the sliding door, then comes to him, one hand flattening against the centre of his chest. Her fingers are cool from the water. The contact settles something in him before he has decided it needs settling.
“Hi, baby,” he murmurs.
His hand closes around the back of her neck, thumb fitting beneath her ear as she rises onto her toes and kisses him. It’s brief and warm and tastes faintly like the sunscreen she always gets too close to her mouth.
“Hi, honey.” Her smile brushes his lips. “You want food too?”
“Yeah.” He slides his other hand around her waist, palm flattening over the damp knot of the sarong. “Thank you, baby.”
She looks past him toward the table. “Banks? Boys? Food?”
The response is immediate and absurdly polite.
“Yeah, thanks, Mom,” Banks says.
“Yes, Mrs Cameron.”
“Yes, please, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mrs Cameron.”
Rafe glances over his shoulder at them. Tyler is looking directly at the table now with the concentration of somebody sitting an exam.
She only nods. “Won’t be long.”
She follows Lila inside, leaving the smell of salt water and coconut sunscreen behind her. Rafe watches until she disappears up the stairs.
Then he turns slowly toward the boys. Every face is arranged into innocence.
Rafe picks up the grill brush. “Something wrong?”
Six heads shake.
“No, sir,” one of them says.
Banks closes his eyes briefly.
Rafe hums and goes back to cleaning.
He waits another five minutes before carrying the brush and drip tray into the kitchen. The window above the sink has been cracked open to let the breeze through, facing straight across the deck toward the ocean. From inside, the boys are mostly hidden by the frame, but their voices carry perfectly through the gap.
Rafe turns on the tap. Behind him, the floorboards upstairs creak as his wife walks Lila toward the bathroom. Pipes groan inside the wall. Outside, a chair scrapes.
Then Tyler says, in the low, urgent voice of somebody sharing state secrets, “Banks, bro.”
Banks sighs. “What?”
“Your mom is so fucking hot.”
Rafe’s hand stops beneath the water. There’s an immediate collision of voices.
“Dude, shut up.”
“No, seriously.”
“Full MILF, man.”
“That’s my mom, you fucking freak.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Don’t.”
Another boy laughs. “No way your old man can handle all that.”
The metal tray slips in Rafe’s hands and hits the sink with a sharp clang. Outside, the conversation dies. Rafe stares through the window at the ocean, jaw locked hard enough that something aches near his ear.
Old man. He’s thirty-eight, not dead. And handle all that? He’s been handling all that since before these little assholes were even a thought.
He handled her at seventeen when she used to climb through his bedroom window because Ward hated sleepovers. He handled her through college, through a breakup, through three pregnancies, two mortgages, four houses, one wedding and more arguments than he could count.
He knows exactly where she likes his hand when she falls asleep and which side of her neck makes her knees weaken and how to calm her down without telling her to calm down.
He knows she hates tomatoes unless they’re cooked, that she cries when she’s angry enough, that she pretends not to want the last bite and always wants the last bite.
No way your old man can handle all that.
Rafe shuts off the tap. Stupid fucking children.
Footsteps move down the stairs before he can decide whether throwing six teenagers into the ocean would technically violate his time off. Lila appears first in clean yellow shorts and a shirt with a glittering dolphin across the front, hair brushed and beginning to curl as it dries.
His wife follows more slowly, still in the bikini and sarong, gathering her damp hair into a loose knot.
Lila runs toward the pantry. “Can I have chips?”
“No,” both parents say at once.
She stops. “Why?”
“Because lunch is coming,” his wife says.
“But chips are lunch.”
Rafe reaches for his wife as she passes, catching her around the waist and drawing her between his body and the counter. She comes without resistance, arms folding around his shoulders, her whole weight settling into him with a small, tired hum.
There it is. The thing those idiots outside couldn’t begin to understand. She melts for him.
Her stomach softens against his, cheek tipping near his collarbone while his palm moves slowly up the warm line of her back. She smells like salt and shampoo from helping Lila, though she hasn’t showered yet herself.
“I can make lunch,” he says against her hair. “You wanna go shower?”
“Don’t mind,” she murmurs, fingertips scratching lazily at the back of his neck. “I can do it.”
Rafe lets both hands slide lower, settling over her ass through the thin sarong. He taps lightly once, then again, a quiet rhythm beneath his palms. She makes another soft sound and presses closer.
The sliding door opens. Six boys begin filing into the kitchen, loud until they see him.
Rafe looks over his wife’s shoulder. Every single one of them becomes deeply interested in something else. The fridge. The floor. Lila’s abandoned towel. One boy studies the bowl of fruit as though he has never encountered an apple.
“Little shits,” Rafe mutters.
His wife lifts her head. “What, baby?”
“Nothin’.” He pats her ass again, eyes still on the boys.
Her brows pinch faintly, but then she tilts her chin toward him in the familiar, wordless request she’s made for more years than any of these kids have been alive.
Rafe smiles. She has no idea. His hand comes up to hold her face, fingers spreading along her jaw as he bends and kisses her.
Slow this time. Deliberate. His mouth moves over hers until she opens with a surprised laugh, and then his tongue catches hers just enough to make the laugh melt into a warm, pleased sigh against him.
Lila groans with her whole body and slaps both hands against his thigh. “Yuck! Daddy, stop! Mama!”
From beside the island, Banks says, “Oh my God. Really?”
His wife pulls back laughing, cheeks warm and eyes shining. Rafe steals one more kiss before she can get far, short but thorough enough to make Lila shout again.
“I’ve got lunch,” he tells her, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “Go shower, Mama. Tell Marlowe to come down on your way up for me.”
“‘Kay.” She kisses his cheek this time, then slips from his arms and heads toward the stairs. “Lila, don’t touch the chips.”
Lila freezes with one hand already inside the pantry. “I wasn’t.”
She disappears upstairs.
For several seconds, the kitchen stays quiet. Rafe turns toward the boys. They stare anywhere except at him. Banks looks like he wants to crawl beneath the island and stay there until adulthood.
Rafe takes a cutting board from the drawer and sets it on the counter with calm, measured care. “Tyler.”
The boy near the fruit bowl goes pale. “Yes, sir?”
Rafe looks at him, then he nods toward the fridge. “Get the burger meat out.”
Tyler moves immediately. “Yes, sir.”
Rafe glances at the rest of them. “You boys want lunch, you can help. Buns are in the pantry. Plates outside. Banks, cheese.”
They scatter through the kitchen with the efficient panic of unpaid staff during an inspection. Rafe reaches for the knife, mouth pulling slowly to one side.
Old man. Fuck that.
Upstairs, the shower turns on. Marlowe calls something unintelligible through her bedroom door. Lila begins explaining to one of the boys why dolphins are smarter than him.
Banks opens the fridge and mutters, “You’re so embarrassing.”
Rafe looks over at his son, then toward the ceiling where his wife is moving through the house above them, still humming faintly to herself.
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♡ summary: when you have trouble sleeping at night, rafe is there to help you quiet the noise.
♡ warnings: 18+ mdni. smut. oral (f!receiving), female reader, no use of y/n, not proofread, insomnia
♡ a/n: wrote this when i was stuck awake last night lol enjoy.
2:34am
The clock on your nightstand shines a bright red, glow bouncing off the shiny oak surface it rests on.
You sigh, reaching out and flipping the clock around. You figure that being aware of the time is only going to make things worse.
Flipping onto your back, staring at the ceiling, the body next to you shuffles a little, then settles.
You press your lips together into a straight line as your hands meet your face. You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and index finger, then move your palm up to your forehead. It rests there for a moment before you move it behind your head, closing your eyes.
Your mind is racing.
Ruminating.
Work has been a huge stressor, it feels like you’re on all the time. It’s been extremely difficult for you to find time for yourself lately, to find the time to decompress. You take a breath in, hold it for a few seconds, then breathe back out.
Your arm drops from your forehead, letting it rest over your stomach.
No matter what you do, you cannot get comfortable. Your legs feel tense, your stomach feels weird, and you have a soft but persistent ache behind your eyes.
Sitting up, you gently remove the comforter off your body and swing your feet over the edge of the bed. A shiver travels up your legs as your feet come into contact with your hard wood floor. After resting your hands on your knees for a moment, you push yourself up and walk over to your bathroom.
You shut the door, flip the light on and lean over the counter slightly, looking at yourself in the mirror.
Sometimes getting out of bed for a little bit helps.
You twist the knobs to turn on the faucet, cold water shooting down the drain. You grab a glass that sits on the counter next to the sink and fill it with tap water, taking a few sips before placing it back down.
Rafe would not be pleased with you drinking tap water. You’ve always been filtered water people; however, it was go all the way downstairs to the fridge, or have a few sips from the tap.
You chose the latter.
You turn the doorknob and flip the light back off, stepping back into Rafe’s bedroom. You gently lift the covers and crawl back into bed, laying on your side facing away from the nightstand.
You lock eyes with Rafe, laying on his stomach. His face is pressed up against his pillow, his eyelids.
“Oh shit,” you whisper, “I woke you up. I’m sorry.”
You pull the comforter up to your chin, feeling guilty.
“Nah, I’ve been awake,” he mumbles, voice gravelly, shoving his hands underneath the pillow to prop his head up a little bit.
Rafe was sleeping, but lightly, as the reality is you’ve been tossing and turning all night long.
“Fuck—what’s your problem?” He grumbles, closing his eyes ever so slightly as you stare at him.
Your chest tightens, “nothing. It’s fine, go back to sleep.”
You flip over to face the nightstand once more, taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to focus on anything other than falling asleep.
He sighs behind you, the bed rocking slightly as he shuffles next to you.
Rafe reaches out, scooting himself so he’s up against your back. One of his arms reaches around you, curling around the small of your waist where your tank top rides up a little bit. You reach your arm down to place your hand on top of his.
He lifts his head, then lets it rest in the crook of your neck and begins drawing little circles on your stomach with his thumb. It makes you shiver.
“What’s the matter,” he grumbles, softer this time.
He tries to be sweet, but it’s pitch black on a week night. You don’t blame him.
“Just go to back to sleep, I don’t want to keep you up”
“Christ—I’m already up.”
You sigh, giving in. Rafe many things. Stubborn is one of them.
“Everything is just really busy. No matter what I do, I can’t get my mind to turn off. I can’t get comfortable… and now I’m just getting bitchy.”
He hums in response, his hand gravitating towards your bottoms, his palm is flat, tucking his fingers underneath your waistband. He stops, letting it rest. Heat finds your core, forming a knot in your abdomen.
His breath is hot, causing your neck to feel damp. Kissing you gently, Rafe applies the slightest bit of pressure with his fingers.
“I could make you feel better, clear your head a little bit.”
His words send a pulse down to your heat. You hate the effect he has on you, even in the late hours of the night.
You breathe out through your nose, almost a laugh, trying to shrug it off.
“It’s late, Rafe.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
His hand drops down lower, his index finger finding a place in between your folds with a low hum.
“You can tell me to stop,” his finger slowly slides up and down, spreading your slick.
Aa soft breath leaves your freshly parted lips as you push into him.
“S’what I thought,” he mumbles against your shoulder, pulling his fingers out from under your pants.
“Rafe,” you whine at the loss of his fingers.
He pulls away completely now, his bare chest leaving your back. Goosebumps form at the sudden loss of body heat, chill in the air.
The heat slowly returns to your body as you roll over. Your eyes rake over his shirtless form, his bicep flexes slightly as he lifts his arm up to rest his head on his hand.
The loss of his touch combined with the lack of sleep, irritated is one of many words you could pull from the bank of feelings you have swimming in your mind right now.
You flip to your back to stare at the ceiling, sighing out in frustration as his hand makes his way back to your tummy.
“What do you want hm?”
You sigh, now is not the time to play games.
“Rafe please,” you whine, twisting your head to look at him. A smug smirk plants itself on his face.
“Please what?” His hand moves back down to the waist band of your underwear, looping his finger around it.
Rafe’s fingers gently tug at your lacy panties, your eyes following the movement. He knew what you wanted, but liked hearing you say it.
“Touch me…” you whisper, flitting your eyes up to his.
“Good girl.” His smirk widens, satisfaction written on his face. The friction of his thumb against your skin makes your pulse spike before he finally strips them away, off your ankles.
He shifts until he’s positioned between your knees, looking down to see his hands sliding up to grip the insides of your thighs to hold you in place.
The first touch of his mouth is agonizingly gentle—a warm press against your sensitive skin that pulls a sharp gasp from your chest. He doesn’t rush, his tongue setting a steady rhythm.
Rafe hums lowly, the vibration earning a quiet whine from you as he gently sucks on your clit, his fingers digging deep into your flesh to hold you still.
His tongue swirls around you with a steady pressure, slipping his fingers inside you.
“Rafe— fuck, please—“ you whine, your head tossing back against the pillow as your heels dig into the mattress. You feel like you’re about to snap.
Rafe responds with nothing but a groan, vibrations coursing through you again. His smugness is gone, replaced by the need to see you completely undone.
His focus remains on your swollen clit, targeting the sensitive peak while his fingers pump inside you. You can barely breathe. You can’t think.
Your fingers twist in the sheets as the first wave of your orgasm crashes over you, clamping around his fingers.
Rafe doesn't pull away; he laps up every drop of your release, riding out the contractions with long, strokes that send electricity shooting down your legs. He keeps his fingers buried deep, feeling every pulse of your muscles until your hips finally settle and you collapse back onto the bed.
Slowly, he drags himself up your body, leaving a trail of warm kisses along your stomach and ribcage before hovering over your face.
“Still thinking?" he asks, his voice gravelly, a faint, dark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You shake your head weakly against the pillow, your chest still heaving. Your mind, which had been racing in circles just twenty minutes ago, is completely blank.
"Good." Rafe shifts his weight, pulling the discarded blanket up over both of you before tugging you hard against his side. He pulls you in until your back is flush against his chest, his arm wrapping around your waist, hand resting heavy over your stomach.
He buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. You can feel the rapid, unsteady thrum of his heartbeat against your shoulder blades.
"Go to sleep," he mutters against your skin.
His fingers lightly tap a restless rhythm against your hip, a physical reminder of the static always buzzing in his head, but his grip never loosens. Smothered in his heat, his scent, and the absolute finality of his voice, your eyelids finally grow too heavy to fight.
sunlight spills through the half-open blinds, cutting straight across your face, you groan immediately, throwing an arm over your eyes before the light can blind you completely.
the movement alone makes your head pound, every tequila shot from last night comes rushing back with brutal clarity.
“…fuck.” your mouth tastes like cigarettes.
your hair still smells faintly of smoke and saltwater, strands tangled together with grains of sand that somehow followed you all the way home, one of your shoe is lying in the middle of the bedroom floor.
you stare at the ceiling for another minute, hoping the headache will magically disappear if you ignore it long enough, but it really doesn’t. with another groan, you drag yourself upright and reach for the glass of water sitting on your nightstand, it’s from yesterday morning, warm and disgusting, but you drink every drop anyway.
the second you put the empty glass back down, your phone lights up, four new messages.
you frown.
one from tracy.
three from, fuck, rafe.
you open tracy’s conversation first.
tracy — 8:14 a.m.
alive?
despite yourself, you laugh, just once.
you type back.
you — 12:34 p.m.
no.
the typing bubble appears almost immediately, but you lock your phone before she has a chance to answer, you don’t have the energy for tracy right now.
your thumb lingers over the screen, thinking about rafe’s texts.
then you tap it, the last message he sent sits there waiting for you.
rafe — 10:32 a.m.
i don’t care how much you hate me.
but you’re not talking to people like that because of me anymore.
you embarrassed yourself last night.
you read it twice, then let out another laugh.
“oh, fuck you.”
your fingers are already moving across the keyboard before you’ve really decided to answer.
you — 12:35 p.m.
funny.
you used to scream louder than me.
you hit send without giving yourself time to reconsider and almost immediately the typing bubble appears. of course he’s awake, of course he’s already looking at his phone. you watch the three little dots blink, they disappear then come back, disappear again.
after a moment.
rafe — 12:37 p.m.
that’s your response?
a slow smirk spreads across your face and you don’t even think before replying.
you — 12:37 p.m.
what?
you only like loud women when they’re underneath you?
the typing bubble comes back so quickly it’s almost insulting.
rafe — 12:38 p.m.
grow up.
you roll your eyes so hard your headache somehow gets worse.
you — 12:38 p.m.
mr. morally superior. that’s new.
six months before becoming a gentleman you were telling me to wake up the neighbors.
the typing bubble appears again.
this time it stays there, long enough that you almost convince yourself he’s finally going to say something honest maybe even something real.
instead
rafe — 12:41 p.m.
i’m not doing this with you.
you — 12:42 p.m.
tell your slut to never approach me again
seen.
nothing else, you wait, five seconds, ten.
still nothing.
you lock your phone, feeling something weird in your stomach, probably just hungover, for sure.
“coward.”
for the first time since opening your eyes that morning, your hangover isn’t the thing occupying your mind anymore.
—
six months earlier.
it had been raining since sunset, the kind of steady outer banks rain that turned the streets glossy and quiet, drowning out everything except the distant sound of the waves. you weren’t expecting anyone. you’d showered, changed into one of rafe’s old hoodies you’d never given back, and were halfway through a terrible reality show when someone started pounding on your apartment door.
three hard knocks echoed through the apartment, followed by another that made you frown.
“who the hell?”
you pushed the blanket off your lap and walked barefoot across the hardwood floor. the moment you pulled the door open, your stomach dropped.
rafe.
his white button-down was damp from the rain, clinging to him in places. his hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed, and even from the doorway, you could smell the whiskey.
“what the fuck?” you asked, staring at him.
he didn’t answer right away. he just looked at you, blue eyes bloodshot, jaw tight.
“you gonna let me in?” he asked.
“no.”
another beat of silence passed before he let out a humorless laugh.
“shut up.”
“what?”
before you could react, he stepped forward. one hand caught your jaw while the other pushed the door open wider. then he kissed you.
hard, like he’d been thinking about it for days. like he’d driven all the way there with only one thing on his mind. you stumbled back a step, more from surprise than force, your hand instinctively grabbing the front of his shirt. you were the first to pull away.
“what the fuck are you doing?”
he rested his forehead against yours for a moment, breathing unevenly.
“don’t.” his voice was low. “don’t ask me questions.”
you searched his face.
“you’re drunk.”
“i know.”
“you shouldn’t be here.”
“i know.”
“then leave.”
instead, he kissed you again, and fuck… you kissed him back. it was messy, desperate, the kind of kiss that had too much history behind it. his hands settled on your waist, gripping tighter as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
a soft moan escaped your lips. his breathing was just as uneven as yours while your fingers found his belt, working it open.
he smirked.
“shut up,” you muttered.
he left your hoodie on. he knew it was his. instead, he tugged your pants down before guiding you backward until the edge of the kitchen counter pressed against your hips. with one effortless movement, he lifted you onto it, stepping between your legs.
“i don’t love you anymore,” you said, your breathing unsteady.
“doesn’t matter,” he replied quietly before kissing you again.
one hand remained at the back of your neck while the other slid down from your thigh. your hands buried themselves in his hair, tugging at the damp strands.
“you’re always so fucking wet, princess,” he murmured while his fingers starting rubbing you clit.
“don’t call me that,” you whispered, your voice breaking, because his fingers are doing such a good job. “just fuck me stupid.”
he smirked.
his boxers hit the floor before he wrapped a hand around himself, stroking a few slow times. a quiet groan escaped his lips as he stepped closer, one hand still cradling the back of your neck.
then he pushed himself inside you.
slowly at first, giving you just enough time to feel every inch before he slammed forward.
“oh, fuck, rafe,” you choked out, the words catching in your throat.
“scream my fucking name,” he hissed.
—
four days slipped by.
four quiet, painfully uneventful days that somehow felt longer than they should have. rafe never texted again.
no sarcastic messages waiting when you woke up. no late-night phone calls. no accidental run-ins on figure eight. after the bonfire, it was as if the two of you had silently agreed to shove the entire night into a box, nail the lid shut, and pretend it had never happened.
there was only work, which, honestly, was exactly what you wanted, or at least, that was the lie you kept telling yourself every morning.
sunday dinner at your parents’ house arrived like it always did—scheduled, obligatory, and impossible to get out of. their house sat on one of the most expensive stretches of figure eight, hidden behind iron gates and old oak trees draped with spanish moss. it was the kind of place that belonged in architectural magazines; all white stone, floor-to-ceiling windows, perfectly trimmed hedges, and furniture nobody actually looked comfortable sitting on.
completely incapable of feeling like home.
the dining room looked exactly the same as it had every sunday for as long as you could remember. fresh flowers sat in the center of the table, candles burned despite it still being daylight outside, and the silverware was arranged so precisely you were fairly certain someone measured the distance between each fork.
your father spent most of dinner answering emails between bites of food, your mother corrected one of the staff members because a napkin had been folded slightly unevenly.
you pushed your salmon around your plate with your fork, wondering, for what had to be the hundredth time, why you kept saying yes to these dinners.
conversation stayed exactly where your family liked it, safe.
occupancy rates.
the hilton in miami.
a new investment in charleston.
construction delays.
profit margins.
anything except feelings.
your family had never been particularly interested in those.
by the time dessert plates had been cleared away, your father finally looked up from his phone.
“oh.” he said it so casually you almost missed it. “i have something for you.”
you looked up suspiciously.
“…what?”
instead of answering, he stood from the table and disappeared into his office, you exchanged a glance with your mother. she simply lifted her wine glass and took another sip. a minute later, your father returned carrying a thick black folder, he placed it neatly on the table in front of you.
stamped across the front in clean silver lettering were two words.
cameron development.
you stared at it, then slowly looked back at him.
“no.” To said quickly.
he blinked.
“i haven’t even explained.”
“you don’t have to.” you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms. “absolutely fucking not.”
your father sighed the way he always did whenever you became even mildly inconvenient.
“baby..”
“no.”
“it’s regarding the hotel garden renovation.”
“don’t care.”
“they’ve revised the landscaping proposal.”
“good for them.”
“these are the updated plans.”
“fantastic.”
he slid the folder a little closer across the table.
“i need you to drop them off tomorrow.”
you actually laughed, a real laugh.
“you’ve completely lost your mind.”
“it’s five minutes out of your day.”
“no.” he sighed “i could send a courier…”
“exactly,” you interrupted, pointing across the table at him. “send a courier.”
“it’s for ward.”
“i genuinely don’t care if it’s for the president.”
your father closed his eyes for a second.
“calm down.”
“I’m perfectly calm.”
“you don’t have to see rafe.”
another disbelieving laugh escaped you.
“i don’t want to see any camerons.”
silence settled over the table. your mother, who had remained impressively uninvolved until now, finally lowered her wine glass.
“you are so dramatic.”
you looked at her flatly.
“am i?”
“yes.” she smiled politely, the kind of smile that somehow managed to make everything worse. “you’re taking papers to ward’s office. not rafe’s.”
“they work in the same building.”
“so?”
“So they’re camerons.”
she rolled her eyes.
“you’re acting as though you’ll burst into flames the second you walk through the front door.”
you shrugged.
“no.”
a beat.
“just into prison.”
your father ignored that entirely.
“ward specifically requested these before tuesday’s meeting.”
“then ward can send somebody.”
“he doesn’t have anyone coming this direction.”
“he owns an entire company.”
“and you own a driver’s license.”
you narrowed your eyes at him, your mother looked altogether too pleased watching the two of you argue. you hated when they do things like that. they always won.
letting out a long sigh, you rubbed both hands over your face before dropping them back into your lap.
“fine”
your father nodded once, looking absurdly satisfied with himself.
“i knew you’d be reasonable.”
“don’t flatter yourself.”
you reached across the table and picked up the folder.
“i’m not being reasonable.” you tucked it beneath your arm. “i’m being manipulated.”
your mother smiled over the rim of her wine glass.
”just make sure i actually see ward tomorrow, not rafe”
the next afternoon, you found yourself standing outside cameron development with the black folder tucked securely beneath your arm.
you already wanted to go home.
the building towered over the waterfront, all glass and steel, the polished façade reflecting the afternoon sun so brightly you had to squint just to look at it. it was exactly the kind of place ward cameron would build—expensive without trying too hard, elegant in a way that quietly reminded everyone who walked through the doors that money lived here.
you stood on the sidewalk for another second. this was ridiculous. you were dropping off a folder. that was it.
five minutes.
in.
out.
“easy,” you muttered to yourself.
then you pushed through the revolving doors. the lobby looked exactly as you’d imagined. dark marble floors stretched across the room, interrupted only by oversized rugs and carefully chosen furniture that probably cost more than your first car. floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with natural light, and somewhere in the background soft jazz drifted through hidden speakers.
everything smelled faintly of fresh coffee and expensive cologne.
the receptionist looked up immediately, offering the kind of perfectly practiced smile people in buildings like this always seemed to have.
“good afternoon.”
“hi.”
you returned the smile politely, adjusting the folder against your chest.
“i’m here from hart hospitality. i’ve got the revised plans for the cameron grand renovation.”
she nodded as if she’d been expecting someone.
“of course.” after a quick phone call, she looked back at you. “you can head upstairs.”
“thank you.”
the elevator ride lasted less than thirty seconds. long enough for your stomach to decide it hated this idea. you watched the numbers climb one by one, shifting the folder between your hands as if somehow carrying it differently would make you less nervous, but it wouldn’t.
the doors slid open with a soft chime, the executive floor was quieter than the lobby. thick carpet muted every footstep, and the hallway was lined with framed architectural renderings of hotels, office buildings, and luxury developments. through the glass walls of nearby conference rooms, people spoke in low voices over laptops and neatly arranged presentations.
you approached the assistant’s desk, she barely glanced away from her computer.
“hi,” you said with a polite smile. “i’m looking for mr. cameron.”
without looking up completely, she gestured down the hallway.
“last office on the right.”.
you thanked her and started walking, your heartbeat stayed perfectly normal. ward would probably be finishing a meeting and ward always liked her, known her since she was born, she was his little girl most of her life. you’d hand him the folder, exchange two minutes of polite conversation, and leave.
you reached the final door and adjusted the folder beneath your arm one last time.
one quick knock.
“come in.”
you pushed the door open.
“hi, ward. my dad wanted me to..”
the words died instantly, your stomach dropped so fast it almost hurt. it wasn’t ward.
it was rafe.
he sat behind the large walnut desk with a stack of contracts spread neatly in front of him, sleeves rolled to his forearms, reading glasses resting beside an untouched cup of coffee. sunlight poured through the windows behind him, catching the silver watch around his wrist and outlining him in warm afternoon light.
for a second neither of you moved. he hadn’t expected you, you could tell by the way his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly before his expression settled back into something carefully unreadable.
“oh.”
the single word barely left his mouth and the office suddenly felt much smaller than it actually was. your eyes drifted toward the nameplate sitting neatly on the edge of his desk.
r. cameron.
right, mr. cameron. there were two of them now.
you felt heat creep up your neck almost immediately.
“sorry,” you mumbled, already taking a small step backward. “i asked for mr. cameron.”
his gaze never left yours.
“i noticed.”
his voice was calm, professional. so different from the man who used to yelled always louder than you was.
you cleared your throat awkwardly.
“i was looking for ward.”
“he isn’t here.”
“okay”
“he left about twenty minutes ago.”
you nodded once, of course he had. because apparently the universe found this funny.
another silence settled between you, this was awkward.
“i’ll just leave these with his assistant,” you said finally, shifting the folder back beneath your arm before turning slightly toward the door.
“you can leave them here.”
you paused.
“what?”
“the folder.” his tone didn’t change. “i’ll make sure he gets it.”
your fingers tightened around the cardboard without you realizing.
“i can leave it outside.”
“i said i’ll give it to him.”
you hesitated just for a second, but it was enough, a faint, humorless smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“what?”
you looked away.
“nothing.”
“you don’t trust me with paperwork now?”
you sighed quietly.
“it’s not that.”
“isn’t it?”
“no.” you rubbed your thumb absentmindedly along the edge of the folder.
“i just…”
the words caught unexpectedly in your throat.
“don’t want to bother you.”
the sentence surprised you almost as much as it surprised him.
for the briefest moment, something softened in rafe’s expression, confusion maybe even regret.
it disappeared almost immediately.
“you already did.”
the words landed with surprising force. not loud, not cruel just flat enough to sting. you looked down at the floor for a second before forcing yourself to nod.
“right.”
crossing the office, you carefully placed the folder on the corner of his desk, making sure not to stand any closer to him than absolutely necessary.
“there.”
he didn’t reach for it, didn’t even glance at it, his attention never left you.
“so.”
you swallowed, the silence filled the room again. you became painfully aware of everything, the quiet hum of the air conditioning, the distant ringing of someone’s office phone outside, the smell of fresh coffee lingering somewhere nearby.
you rubbed your thumb along the edge of the folder.
then realized, you were still holding it.
idiot.
you let go so quickly it almost made you laugh.
“well” you forced a small, awkward smile. “tell ward my dad sent those over.”
the corner of his mouth twitched.
“i know how to deliver a message.”
you reached for the door.
”princess” he said flat.
your hand stopped on the handle, you closed your eyes, that fucking nickname.
you turned slowly.
“what?”
his expression hadn’t changed, if anything, it looked even colder now.
“next time you decide to make a scene.” he held your eyes. “don’t do it in front of half the island.”
for a second you simply stared at him, then a disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.
summary: rafe overhears you and sarah talking about your boyfriend, and somehow you two end up in the bathroom not so long after
pairing: best friend’s brother!rafe x reader
warnings: smut, cheating, just 18+ content
a/n: i haven’t written in ages so i’m sorry if this bad, but i’ve tried my best. btw i’m working on my requested stories too. this is also my longest story ever, so i’m too lazy to rr it guys sorry..
you were lying flat on sarah’s bed, staring up at the ceiling while sarah was sitting instead, eating some sour candy from the package. you two have been talking for maybe an hour about some random topics that popped up in your head. after a while of silence, sarah’s eyes fell on you as a small cheeky smile spread on her face.
"what about you and thomas?" sarah leaned back on her palms as she stared at you. you shrugged "what about me and thomas?" a smile appeared on your face too. you knew sarah wanted gossip and even tho she’s your bestfriend you never really mentioned your boyfriend for some reason. maybe because your relationship wasn’t really the one you thought you’d experience with thomas. sarah groaned and threw her head back "girl you never talk about him, i want to know some details."
you chuckled and shook your head "okay okay fine! what kind of details do you have in mind exactly?" your smile turned into a more teasing one because you were like 99.9% sure you knew what kind of stuff sarah’s interested in. "have y’all fu-" and you were right. you cut her off "i knew it. you’re such a perv." a soft laugh escaped you and sarah forced a gasp "can you blame me? don’t act like you didn’t ask me when i started dating topper." you rolled your eyes before you sighed. "should i be honest?"
"100%" sarah ate another piece of candy as she watched you eagerly, waiting for the most nasty freaky answers from you. "it ain’t that good." sarah’s face dropped — damn she wanted something spicy. "seriously? i was expecting something.. well something." you cackled at that before you sat up too, now facing her. "like it’s not bad but.. it’s more like can’t-wait-till-it’s-over kind of sex." sarah listened to you and nodded cause she really did feel you. "i mean you can always find someone else." sarah stared at you and chuckled when you smacked her shoulder. "of course that’s your idea! girl i’m not.. like that. and he’s nice to me and all, he treats me good."
you two kept talking about it, completely unaware that behind the closed door was rafe, hearing every single word you said about thomas not "satisfying" you enough, how you aren’t really happy in the relationship blah blah blah.. he was intrigued. he knew you have a boyfriend, sarah’s told him - she runs her mouth way too often. but that’s literally it, you and him aren’t close at all.. he’s just your best friend’s brother to you, stupidly hot but absolutely insufferable.
"just.. say you were drunk or something." sarah cackled and you just nudged her "i’m not gonna cheat on him, sarah." a small smile in disbelief was on your face, that rafe couldn’t see but clearly hear in your tone. "i’ll just.. deal with it somehow. i’ll talk to him." sarah chuckled before she stood up. "boring." she ran her fingers through her hair before speaking up again "i need some more snacks. you want something?"
when rafe heard that he quietly tip toed into his room nearby and closed the door behind him. this cocky smirk remained on his face the whole time - while he was listening until he entered his room.
—
sarah put on some series when she brought snacks and you got bored of all the talking. it didn’t take long until your best friend fell asleep.. typical, she always falls asleep soon even tho she promises she won’t this time. it was 11 maybe 12 pm. you turned off the tv and realized the whole house is completely quiet so everyone was most likely asleep. you still haven’t brushed your teeth tho. you pulled out the light pink toothbrush from your backpack and even tho you were also kinda tired, you left sarah’s room and walked towards the bathroom.
you opened the door and suddenly there was rafe in front of your eyes, chest bare with just a towel wrapped around his waist. you froze in place for a few seconds before you quickly apologized. a smirk was on his face in a second again "s’fine, come in m’gonna leave in a minute anyways." you walked in and partially closed the door. you started brushing your teeth, there was this awkward silence between you and him. not something you haven’t experienced before so. it took you a few minutes and when you were cleaning your mouth with water, he suddenly spoke up. "i’ve heard you got a boyfriend." your eyes shot up at him in the still kinda foggy mirror.
he took a small step closer "sarah’s told me. obviously." you nodded a little "yeah. you’ve heard right." you turned on your heel and started walking away.
"i also heard he doesn’t fuck you good enough."
you stopped in your track, your back facing him. his smirk widened and he crossed his arms. "have i heard that right too?" he added, just to make you feel more embarrassed. you forced a smile before you turned around. "i mean that’s like none of your business."
"hey" he stopped you once more. you rolled your eyes before you turned around again "what?" your eyes ran over his bare chest briefly.. you couldn’t even help it. he was holding your toothbrush, waiting for you to come get it. you walked back into the bathroom and just when you were about to take your toothbrush back, he leaned down and kissed you. you just pulled back quickly and stared at him "wha.." your voice trailed off when you noticed his eyes wandering over your face and body. he dropped the toothbrush on the wash basin and started kissing you again. you didn’t pull back this time tho.
his hand was on your hip, squeezing it softly as the free one closed the door and locked it. your hands ran over his bare chest, feeling the defined muscles under your fingertips made you slowly get wet. the kissing became more passionate and hungry, his tongue darting into your mouth, his hands now gripping your ass firmly. you could feel his cock getting harder as he was pressed up against you with the thin towel still loosely wrapped around his hips.
his hand slipped into your pyjama shorts as he touched you through your now soaked panties. he smirked against your mouth, his fingers rubbing your clit through the fabric. you pulled back just to sigh in pleasure, while your foreheads remained pressed together. he planted a few kisses on your neck as he backed you up against the wash basin. his free hand reached up to cup your breast underneath your shirt, squeezing and pinching your nipple. you were dripping wet at this point. you wanted him so bad, you forgot about your boyfriend at all.
he didn’t waste more time and pulled your shirt up over your head and threw it away. his eyes landed on your breasts before he cupped them, kissing your neck and collarbone. his wet mouth sucked on your nipple, his tongue rubbing against it once and then. he had to lean down so that’s when he lifted you up so you sat on the edge of the wash basin instead. you moaned quietly and he smirked against your breast.
your shorts and panties went off in no time. "shit.. you’re so wet f’me." he murmured as he kept staring at your cunt. then he reached down slid two fingers inside you. you moaned, his eyes still on your face, not leaving for a second. he moved his fingers in and out fast, curling them so he’d rub the right spot. you whimpered softly, your eyes fluttering in pleasure. he fastened up the pace of his fingers, his other hand still on your breast. when he kept touching the right spot again and again, you gripped his shoulder tightly and moaned a little louder.
"be quiet." he murmured before he moved his fingers even faster, the wet squelching sound echoing the bathroom. just when you were about to come he pulled his fingers out, which were now soaking wet with your juices. you opened your eyes and looked at him. he smirked while he put you down again "you’re so needy." he turned you around and let the towel drop down to his ankles. he stroked himself a few times. you didn’t even get the chance to see the size of his cock. he slammed his hips into yours, your body jerking forward. you moaned softly and gripped the basin tightly. he held your hips, now thrusting into you, kinda slowly at first. he leaned over you, his chest against your back as he wiped the mirror so you could see your face and him behind you since it remained foggy. he fastened up again, fucking you harder and faster now.. his eyes were on you the whole time, watching the way your ass slammed against his hips or the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure for a second.
he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you up, your back against his chest again. his other hand wrapped around your throat softly as he stared down at your face. he groaned and panted as he kept the pace fast. your moans were getting louder and honestly none of you cared at this point now. "does-fuuuuuck-i bet he doesn’t hear allat does he?" he murmured playfully, his breath hot against your ear. you were busy moaning to answer so he squeezed your throat briefly.
"answer me." his tone was firm as he kept fucking you deep and so fast. you shook your head quickly "n-no.. he doesn’t." you whimpered right after. he chuckled playfully "so.. i fuck you better than your man.. damn what a shame." he panted as these words left his mouth. he threw his head back a little bit as he felt your pussy clenching around his cock. "you close?" you nodded, your brows knitted in pleasure. this wasn’t even close to what your boyfriend makes you feel. he grinned "yeah? you gonna cum f’me?" you gave him a weak nod again. "wonderin’ how would your boyfriend feel about this.. knowing your best friend’s brother fucks you better mhm?" rafe chuckled with a smirk at that. it didn’t take long until you came hard all over his dick and that’s when he lost it too. his brows furrowed too, and he moaned as he came hard. he kept his cock buried inside of you. you felt it softening slowly as you two kept breathing heavily.
he pecked your cheek twice before he planted a few more kisses on your neck. then he pulled out finally and just grabbed his towel nearby and gave it to you. he put on his fresh boxers prepared on a chair nearby and looked at you. you got dressed too and when you were about to leave he stopped you for the third time tonight. "your tootbrush." he smirked at you. a small smile was on your face too. you just took it and then left the bathroom. on your way back you realized that you just cheated on your boyfriend.. but unfortunately, the guilt was quickly quieted down by the satisfaction you were feeling..
Warnings: smut , 18+, mentions of betrayal, slight arguments, getting caught , lying , ghosting, mentions of drinking , angst with a happy ending, mentions of hooking up, unprotected sex ( lmk if I missed anything!) please read the previous parts to understand:
P1 , P2
You and Rafe had been careful
Mostly
The late night texts that turned into him showing up at your window
The way he’d press you against the wall of the empty boat house and fuck you like he was trying to crawl inside your skin
The mornings you’d wake up with his hand still between your thighs and the taste of him still on your tongue
You told yourself it was just sex
That the way your chest tightened every time he looked at you meant nothing
That the soft, almost gentle way he’d kiss the back of your neck after he came didn’t mean he felt anything either
Sarah still had no idea
Until the night everything cracked open
You were supposed to be at Sarah’s for a girls’ night
Rafe was supposed to be out with the kooks or whatever chaos he was currently involved in
Instead, you’d ended up in his room again
He had you bent over the edge of his bed, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise
Your skirt was shoved up around your waist, panties somewhere on the floor
Every thrust punched a soft, broken sound out of you that you were trying and failing to keep quiet
“Fuck—look at you,” he groaned against the back of your neck “Taking it so well for me. Been thinking about this all day”
You clenched around him, biting your lip hard enough to taste blood
The crush you’d been nursing for months burned hotter every time he spoke like that like you were his
Like this was more than just a secret
You didn’t hear the front door open , Didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs
Not until Sarah’s voice cut through the room like a blade
“Rafe—have you seen my—”
Everything stopped
Rafe froze mid thrust, still buried deep inside you
Your head snapped up
Sarah stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth open
Her gaze flicked from her brother’s face, to your half naked body, to the way his hand was still tangled in your hair
For three full seconds, no one moved
Then Sarah’s face twisted
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Rafe pulled out of you so fast it made you flinch
He yanked his jeans up, jaw tight, while you scrambled to tug your skirt down and grab the nearest shirt (his) to cover yourself
“Sarah—” you started, voice shaky
“Don’t.” She held up a hand, eyes glassy with something between betrayal and fury “Just… don’t” Her stare locked on Rafe “You’ve been sleeping with my best friend?”
Rafe’s expression was pure Cameron defensive, arrogant, already bracing for a fight “it’s not what-“
“Don’t you dare say it’s not what it looks like.” Sarah’s voice cracked “How long?”
Silence
You swallowed hard Your heart was slamming against your ribs so hard it hurt The secret you’d both been keeping felt suddenly enormous and ugly in the space between the three of you
“A few months,” you whispered
Sarah’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “A few months While I was telling you everything. While I was—” She shook her head, looking between the two of you like she didn’t recognize either of you “Does he know you’re in love with him?”
Your stomach dropped
Rafe’s head snapped toward you
You hadn’t told him
You’d never said the words out loud
But Sarah had always been able to read you better than anyone
Rafe’s voice was lower now, almost careful
“You’re in love with me?”
You couldn’t answer Couldn’t look at either of them
Sarah’s eyes filled “I can’t do this right now” She turned on her heel and left, the door slamming hard enough to rattle the frame
The silence she left behind was heavier than the yelling had been
Rafe stood there for a long moment, breathing hard, staring at the closed door Then he looked at you, really looked and something in his expression shifted Softened in a way you almost never saw
He stepped closer Reached out like he might touch your face, then stopped
“You love me?” he asked again, quieter
You wrapped your arms around yourself, still wearing his shirt, still aching from him, still reeling “I… yeah. I do”
Rafe exhaled slowly For once, he didn’t have a cocky comeback ready
He just said, low and rough, “Shit”
You left that night without looking back
Rafe called your name once from the top of the stairs You didn’t stop You didn’t answer
You just kept walking until the humid Kildare air hit your face and the sound of the door shutting behind you felt final
For the next two weeks you did the only thing that made sense to your panicked brain
1.You disappeared
2.You ignored Sarah’s texts
3.Ignored Rafe and Left every call on unread
4.Stopped answering the door when someone knocked at the hours only he ever showed up
5.Told your parents you were “busy with school stuff” so they wouldn’t ask why you barely left your room
Every time your phone lit up with Sarah’s name your stomach twisted so hard you felt sick
You kept replaying the look on her face betrayal, disgust, heartbreak and decided the only way to stop hurting her more was to stay gone
She hated you now That much felt obvious
You’d slept with her brother for months and lied to her face the entire time Best friends didn’t come back from that
And Rafe
You told yourself he was probably relieved
That whatever soft look he’d given you when you admitted you loved him had already been replaced by the usual Rafe Cameron arrogance
He’d move on
Find someone else to fuck who didn’t come with the complication of his sister’s best friend
You were convenient That was all
The crush, the way your chest ached when he touched you gently after, the stupid hope that it meant something those were your problem, not his
So you stayed away
You stopped going to the places you used to. Stopped hanging around the beach where the Pogues or Kooks might run into you
Stopped existing in the same orbit as the Camerons
It almost worked
Until the night Sarah showed up at your house at 11:47 p.m. and refused to leave until you opened the door
You cracked it open just enough to see her standing there in an oversized hoodie, arms crossed with a serious mom expression on her face
“I’m not here to yell,” she said quietly “Can I come in?”
You almost said no , Almost shut the door and went back to pretending the last few months never happened
Instead you stepped aside
She walked in, looked around your dark living room like she was seeing it for the first time, then turned to face you
“You’ve been ghosting me”
“I thought…” Your voice came out rough from disuse “I thought you hated me”
Sarah let out a short, exhausted breath “I was pissed. Really fucking pissed Finding my best friend bent over my brother’s bed isn’t exactly on my top-ten list of ways to spend an evening But I don’t hate you” She paused, jaw tight “I needed time. That doesn’t mean I wanted you to vanish”
You wrapped your arms around yourself, staring at the floor “I slept with him behind your back for months, Sarah. I lied. Every time you talked about him I just… sat there”
“Yeah You did” She didn’t sugarcoat it “And it sucked But you’re still my best friend. I’d rather be angry at you to your face than watch you erase yourself because you decided I hated you”
Silence stretched between you for a long moment
Then she added, softer, “He’s been a mess, by the way”
Your head snapped up
Sarah’s expression was complicated
annoyed, worried, resigned ”Rafe He’s been looking for you Showing up at places he thinks you might be. Getting into fights Drinking more than usual even for him. He asked me yesterday if I’d heard from you and when I said no he looked… I don’t know? Like someone kicked him in the chest”
You didn’t know what to do with that information It sat heavy and confusing in your stomach
“I thought he—”
“You thought a lot of things that weren’t true,” Sarah cut in, not unkindly “Including that I hated you And apparently including that Rafe only ever wanted you for one thing”She shook her head “I’m still not thrilled about the two of you At all. But pretending none of it happened isn’t working for anyone”
She stepped closer and, after a second of hesitation, pulled you into a brief, tight hug
“Stop disappearing,” she muttered against your shoulder “I already lost one version of my best friend the night I walked in on you two Don’t make me lose the rest of her too.”
When she pulled back her eyes were shiny but dry
“I’m going home Text me tomorrow. Actually text me. And…” She hesitated at the door “If you decide you want to talk to him, he’s been at the balcony most nights Alone. Looking like shit”
Then she was gone
You stood in the quiet living room for a long time after the door closed, phone heavy in your hand
Sarah didn’t hate you
And Rafe…
You unlocked your phone Scrolled past the unread messages from both of them Your thumb hovered over his name
For the first time in two weeks, you didn’t immediately put it away
You didn’t text him back
You just drove
The Cameron estate looked the same as it always did at night too big, too quiet, lights on in only a few windows.
You sat in your car for almost ten minutes with the engine off, hands tight on the wheel, telling yourself this was a terrible idea
That he probably didn’t want to see you That whatever soft look he’d given you the night Sarah walked in had already burned out
Then you got out anyway
You didn’t knock The side door near the kitchen was unlocked the way it always was when he was home alone
You stepped inside, heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat, and followed the low sound of music and the faint glow of the television upstairs
His bedroom door was half open
Rafe was on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, a half empty bottle of alcohol on the floor between his feet
He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days dark circles, jaw tight, hair a mess like he’d been dragging his hands through it
When he lifted his head and saw you standing in the doorway, he went completely still
For a second neither of you spoke
Then he let out a short, rough breath that sounded almost like a laugh “You’re actually here”
You stayed by the door, arms crossed tight over your chest like armor “Sarah said you’ve been looking for me”
“Looking for you” He stood up slowly, bottle forgotten“I went to your house three times Drove past the beach, the marina, that stupid coffee place you like You ghosted me Completely”His voice was low, edged with something raw which was new for someone like rafe
“I thought you were done That you decided this—whatever the fuck it was—wasn’t worth the mess”
“I thought you were done,” you shot back, the words tumbling out sharper than you meant “I thought Sarah hated me and you were relieved the secret was out so you could move on I was just the best friend’s easy fuck, right? Convenient No strings”
Rafe’s expression twisted He closed the distance between you stopping close enough that you had to tip your head back to meet his eyes
“Convenient?” he repeated, voice quiet and let out a sound between a laugh and a sigh “You think I spent months sneaking around, risking Sarah finding out, because it was convenient? You think I kept showing up at your window at two in the morning just to get my dick wet?”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out
He kept going, eyes locked on yours “I’ve been going out of my mind Every time my phone lit up I hoped it was you Every time it wasn’t, I got pissed at myself for caring this much And then you just disappeared. Like none of it meant anything”
Your throat felt tight “It meant something to me That’s the problem. I was already in too deep and then Sarah walked in and I panicked I thought the only way to stop hurting everyone was to stay away”
Rafe’s hand came up, hesitated, then slid his hand on the side of your waist His palm was warm Rough Familiar in a way that made your chest ache
“You hurt me by staying away,” he said, quieter now “Not by loving me Not by getting caught By vanishing”
You leaned into his touch before you could stop yourself
” I didn’t know if you… if this was just sex for you”
He let out a low, almost frustrated sound “It’s never been just sex Not with you I just didn’t know how to say it without sounding like an idiot I’m not good at this shit” His thumb brushed your cheek ” But I’m in this. I have been Even when I was too much of a coward to admit it out loud”
The last of the distance you’d built crumbled , You surged up and kissed him
Rafe made a rough noise against your mouth and backed you into the wall, hands sliding under your shirt like he’d been starving for the feel of your skin
The kiss was messy, desperate , weeks of silence and fear pouring out between you You tugged at his shirt until he yanked it off He did the same to yours, then your bra, mouth already trailing hot and open down your neck
“Missed this,” he muttered against your collarbone “Missed you”
You arched when his mouth closed over your breast, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp
His hands worked your jeans open, shoved them down along with your underwear
You kicked them off while he did the same with his own, never fully breaking contact
When he lifted you, you wrapped your legs around his waist without hesitation
He carried you to the bed and laid you down, following immediately, bracing over you on his forearms
For a moment he just looked at you , really looked like he was making sure you were still here
Then he pushed inside in one slow, deep thrust
You both groaned The stretch, the heat, the way he filled you so completely after two weeks of nothing it knocked the air out of your lungs , Rafe dropped his forehead to yours, breathing hard
“Fuck… still so tight for me”
He started moving long, deliberate strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you No rush this time No frantic race to the finish Just the heavy roll of his hips, the wet sound of him sliding in and out, the low curses he couldn’t keep behind his teeth
You clung to him, nails digging into his back, legs locked around his waist
Every thrust punched soft, broken sounds out of you that he swallowed with another kiss
“Look at me,” he ordered roughly when your eyes started to flutter shut
You did His gaze was dark, intense, softer than you’d ever seen it
“You’re not disappearing on me again,” he said between thrusts “You hear me? We figure this out Sarah, the mess, all of it. But you don’t vanish”
“I won’t,” you whispered, voice shaking “I promise”
Something in his expression cracked open
He kissed you harder, hips snapping faster, deeper , One of his hands slid between your bodies, thumb circling your clit in tight, perfect pressure
The dual sensation wound you tighter and tighter until you shattered with a cry against his mouth, clenching hard around him
Rafe followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, pulsing deep inside you as he came
He didn’t pull out right away Just stayed there, forehead against yours, both of you breathing like you’d run miles His hand stroked slowly up and down your side, almost gentle
After a long minute he shifted just enough to look at you properly
“We’re doing this,” he said, voice still rough. “For real. No more hiding I’ll talk to Sarah. We’ll figure it out”
You brushed hair off his forehead, heart still racing “Okay”
A small, crooked almost smile tugged at his mouth , the first real one you’d seen in weeks
“Good”He leaned down and kissed you again, slower this time, Softer
“Because I’m not letting you go a second time.”
Outside, the island kept turning the way it always did messy, loud, full of secrets and storms
But in that room, for the first time in a long time, it felt like something solid had finally settled into place
A/n: hiii ! I really hope you enjoy i decided to keep this an open ending because i had no idea how to write the ending! But this may be bad because it was rushed 😅but hope it’s nice ! / proofread ✅
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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: rafe is a groaning and moaning mess while fucking you deep into the mattress. that’s it.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: sexual content, smut, kissing, unprotected sex, p in v, rough sex, very descriptive, swearing, basically just smut without plot.
𝐖/𝐂: 0,4k
rafe’s hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart on his rumbled bed sheets as he knelt between your legs. there was no light besides a small lamp on his nightstand, casting a soft orange glow over his bedroom. the air hung thick between your heavy breathing. he palmed himself, stroking himself slowly, preparing himself. he gave his already hard cock a few pumps before he pressed the head of his cock against your slick pussy.
with a low grunt he pushed forward slowly, making you both let out a gasp. he buried himself to the hilt inside your tight little hole in one rough, deep thrust. your walls immediately clenched around him, not used to him being buried so deep inside you yet. “fuck rafe…move..” you moaned loudly, brows furrowed together and your fingers digging into his biceps.
“relax baby i got you.” he managed to get out, before pushing his hips forward again, tearing a moan from his throat. “fuck you’re so tight.” he slammed his hips into yours slowly, making you let out a whine of pleasure and pain. soon you both found your rhythm and the only thing you could hear was the wet slap of skin against skin echoing though the room and rafe’s needy moans. you couldn’t believe how loud he was today. his voice cracked into loud, unrestrained moans. you looked up at him and saw his brows furrowing together, sweat beading on his temples and dripping onto your flushed, full breasts.
“just like that.” your pussy started to clench even more around him, making him push himself inside you even deeper. “fuck i love you.” , “god i love you.” , “fuuuuuckkkk” was all you could hear him say. his thrusts became more fast paced, pressing you even deeper into the mattress. the faster he got, the louder he got. “cmon give it to me. fuck, take it, baby. take it” he intertwined your fingers with his like he always did. you felt your legs begin to shake and his thrust became more sloppy, slicker than before.
“fuck rafe i’m gonna cum.” you moaned loudly, desperate for release. “cum for me baby, make me proud, cmon.” and then you heard it, that whimper he accidentally let out directly in your ear, that did it. god, he sounded so needy and desperate. your walls clenched around his big fat cock. the feeling of you clenching around him made him moan out loud. he thrusted into you a few times before you felt his warm cum filling you completely, there wasn’t a single drop that hasn’t filled you.
“shiiittt..” that was the loudest moan you’ve ever heard from him. your thighs shook uncontrollably even after he put his hands there to soothe you. his breathing was heavy, and he was still buried deep inside you, making you whimper.
“i love you.”
𝐀/𝐍: help i made this in like 15 minutes i hope u guys like it!!(not proof read again, sue me.) im gonna throw my phone out of my window bc why am i so nasty.. this was kinda RUSHED but i needed to post badly. also thank u for all the likes and new followers on my first work i posted a few days ago ily<3
warnings/tags mdni 18+. smut. pilatesprincess!reader. failed cock warming hehe. super nonchalant from both parties. mentions of a hard on/being turned on. theyre lowkey both freaks. videoing themselves. raw, p in v, fingering if you squint
you always sat on his lap, didnt matter where you were. restaurants were an exception, finding sitting beside each other had to be enough. you became a part of him whenever he found himself in a chair, gravitating towards it as if he subconsciously told you.
there was nothing more comfortable than fitting perfectly in your boyfriends lap, so thats where you were headed.
already showered for the evening, your hair styled and clothes picked out for the morning- you walked into the living room where rafe was sat on the floor in front of the puzzle. he leaned back gently, you coming and sitting on his lap.
he held his nose on your shoulder, "you smell good." mumbling while leaning around you and fitting the puzzle piece. you sipped from your water bottle, looking at the television playing the third season of yellowstone. "we should get a ranch." you spoke softly while setting down your water and situating yourself on his lap.
rafe chuckled, holding a hand to your bare thigh, feeling the cotton of your cheeky underwear. "i think youd enjoy it for a week and then hate it." he answered, removing his hand and holding both arms around you.
you leaned into his chest, crossing your legs and feeling the muscle under his. he would move you if it ever became uncomfortable, so far only twice hes asked.
your body raised higher than usual with his inhale, and you looked from the side of your eye, brows furrowing loosely. he continued the puzzle, humming gently under his breath. "this one" you sat up again, reaching for the piece and handing it to him, leaning forward and pointing to the open spot.
he set it in the spot, pushing down on it with a pointer finger. you uncrossed your legs and sat up quickly, stepping over rafes arm and running to the kitchen on your toes.
coming back with a bowl, "i got this recipe from malia," you said while he held his arm out again and you sat down. holding a chocolate covered blueberry for rafe, he leaned forward and wrapped his lips messily around your fingers.
you giggled, scrunching your nose up and wiping your hand on his shirt. "oh god," he made a face, holding a hand to cover his mouth. "semi-sweet, sorry." you told him, with wide eyes before shoving a handful in your mouth.
you kept the bowl in your lap, facing the television again but with a straightened back. it wasnt long before you were just as invested in the puzzle, feet on the floor and knees bent, still sat on rafes lap who has had a boner since she fit the first piece.
you repositioned, bending your knees so they were on the sides of rafes hips. his mouth about fell open, "jesus christ-" coughing while he pulled his arms back and held them on your hips. you hummed under your breath, posture still unbelievably perfect, and rested your elbows on the coffee table.
half paying attention to the show and half focused on finishing the puzzle. you tucked your feet into his sides as if on instinct, sitting up and leaning forward. rafes hands were still on your hips when you bent over. "can we try something?" he blurted, voice raising an octave higher.
"what?" you asked, still looking at the grouped ones at other side. "you wanna just," he took a pause, "sit on it?" you furrowed your brows, looking over your shoulder to your boyfriend whose eyes hadnt left your ass. "sit on it?" you asked, he humming in response.
nodding, "just sit on it." pulling his bottom lip into his mouth as his hands palmed the back of your thighs. "sure."
"wait, really?"
you looked at him, "yeah?" asking as if he wasnt the one to suggest it in the first place. turning your head in front of you again, you let him guide your hips down. you held a piece between your fingers while resting your back against his chest.
you stared at the tv, arms slightly raised and knees spread while you slowly sank down on him. he held a hand to your hip and one around your waist, head pressed to the side of your torso.
a quiet moan passed your throat when he bottomed out, you sitting perfectly on his lap again before clenching your torso to sit yourself up again. he kept his eyes screwed shut, not knowing how long he honestly would last.
you were so warm, so comfortable and so at home. you clenched around him, feeling your heartbeat race faster. you swallowed deeply, rafe leaning around you again to continue.
minutes pass before you reached for your phone, the slight movement caught rafes throat while you sunk back on him easily. your nails clicked against your screen, pausing while thinking of the rest of your response. the more you sat with him inside you, doing everyday things, the more he felt his control slip.
you leaned back, leaning against his chest again and feeling him hit deeper. he held his breath, he should have known better with how much youre constantly moving anyways. he lifted a hand, holding the side of your face and tracing his thumb over your lips.
tapping his fingers on the table while feeling you kiss the pad of his thumb, keeping your lips puckered. you turned your phone landscape, pressing your thumb on the record button. rafe gave a sweet smile to the screen before reaching for your phone.
he flipped the camera, leaning back before gently pushing your hips up, recording you coming off of him before he flipped the camera to himself again and rolled his hips up to meet yours. giggling under his breath from the moan that slipped past a hand over your mouth.
he saved the video, deleted it off of snapchat, locked your phone and fisted the shirt you wore. your eyes widened, knowing exactly what was coming when he held the side of your underwear with his thumb and thrusted back into you.
your eyes rolled and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. hips raising and him following, over and over, until he pulled your arm back and you hit into his chest again. hand holding the side of his head while you rolled your hips lazily into his. his fingers gripped your hip, other hand reaching for your phone again.
he pulled up the camera, keeping it on the both of you. he held your chin with his hand, arm wrapped around your neck gently. you stopped your movements, looking up at the camera when he lifted his arm, showing you sat spread on his lap.
tilting your chin to the side, he found you in a messy open-mouthed kiss. bringing the phone back to the two of you. your arm was still raised behind him, his arm still around your neck while his tongue shoved deep into your mouth. you raised your hips, bouncing on him gently before he pulled away from you.
he set the phone down, folding your legs in front of you and coming up on his knees. at his hard thrust forward, he set the phone up against your water-bottle. bent over the coffee table with your arms extended out. rafes thumb tucked into your mouth, and eyes comfortably shut as he rammed into you.
"oh my god, oh my god," you moaned past his thumb, throwing your head down and whining while you squeezed your legs tighter. he fell backwards again, pulling your hips with him.
you were in an awkward position, hands holding the edge of the coffee table, back arched and legs tucked tight together. rafe sunk himself into you again and it took the breath from your lungs. profanities leaving your mouth as your shoulders sagged.
he rolled his hips into yours, knocking his head back against the couch while feeling his abs tighten. "im gonna cum, baby," he warned.
you took over, lifting your hips and slamming back down into him. the noises were enough to get him off, you making them was even better. you tucked your forehead, shielding your face you knew was scrunched tight at pleasure.
"fucking shit" rafe cursed, legs trembling while you snatched the phone and lifted it up. his head was still thrown back, your hips coming up and slamming down hard. another string of curses before he pushed you down onto him and pushed as hard as he could into you.
he gasped when you clenched around him, feeling his fingers dig deep into your hip.
you passed the phone to him, turning it to your back while you slowly pulled out of him. you moaned again feeling his cum drip out of you. pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when feeling his fingers slowly push into you.
"such a clean girl until it comes to me," he purred, flicking his fingers inside you. you gasped loudly, holding a hand over your mouth. "scream for me, baby," he said through a chuckle. "shut the fuck up." he pushed his fingers harder into you, angling them deeper.
"fuck, fuck," you cried while feeling your high come. rafes mouth opened, feeling how much of him spilled out of you at your own orgasm. coating his fingers and slipping down his hand. he leaned back, showing the camera his view before slowly shaking his head.
"god- i love it when youre nasty." he groaned, palming your ass while you made it to your feet. "i need another shower."
