"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." — Eleanor Roosevelt.
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Be yourself in a world of others.
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Koda is NOT my real name but something I go by. You can and may still call me Koda though. Big music enthusiast + writing, watching shows and working out, and playing with my dog as well.
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Daddy!Dean Di Laurentis taking over while you're gone and it turns to absolute chaos.
blah: you decided to leave Dean up to it this weekend because you had some work to catch up on after giving birth. What happens when you leave your husband in charge almost all day?
warnings: strictly fluff, mentions of children lol, mentions of liquids, sweet wholesomeness.
note: sorry I haven't been active :c I promise I'll be as productive as I can with school in a few days!!! This is a bit short I'm soooo sorry bebes
You'd recently went back to work after weeks at home with your twin boys and newborn.
Dean decided he would take it upon himself and take off from work when the kids were sick. He woke up extra early and even made you your favorite breakfast-in-bed dishes.
You smiled. "You didn't have to."
Which he just shrugged, squeezing your thigh with one warm hand. "No. I wanted to." That made your heart squeeze and flutter.
Your enthusiastic boys bounced around the house babbling incoherent sentences.
Beau climbed on the counter with chubby sticky fingers. Marshall assisted in pushing a stool underneath his brother's feet so he didn't fall.
After you'd left for the morning, Dean clapped his hands at the front door. "Alright kids. We've got go help wash mom's car." He told them.
Beau tilted his head and waved a small hand. "Car?" Marshall jumped up with energy, smacking Beau across the cheek. Dean stifled a laugh, while Beau looked outright offended at his brother's smack.
-+-
Outside was humid. Your flowers seemed to be thriving happily planted, Dean poured water in them and they uplifted gracefully in response.
Marshall's tiny hands gripped the water hose, aiming it at your black Mercedes Benz. Dean assisted him by turning the handle, his big eyes widening in awe at the sight of the heavy pressure.
Beau made grabby hands at the soapy bucket. "Dad, I want!" He began waddling over towards it. Dean laughed, grabbing the handle and giving Beau the watery-soap bucket.
He smiled, two missing teeth on display. His feet padded with watermarks, gently scrubbing the car doors with ease for someone so small.
Dean sighed and dragged his chair. "Good boys. Dad needs some sleep." He set the carrier down beside him, kneeling down to apply sunglasses to the fussing newborn who instantly relaxed, balling her fists up and waving them around with tiny kicks.
"Relaxation time!" Dean collapsed in his chair. He leaned back, kicking his feet up on the curb and closing his eyes. Beau and Marshall’s changed small frowns of jealousy.
Dean had managed to fall asleep. Big rookie mistake. The twins exchanged mischievous glances and whispers before stumbling inside.
They gathered different supplies and poured different cleaning supplies, cracked eggs, and yucky smoothie mixtures into the bucket with ecstatic grins.
Helping assist each other carry the bucket out, they waddled over to Dean. They climbed on the bar stools he had out beside them in case Marshall or Beau wanted to take a nap with him, and poured the thick, clumpy smelly mixture all over his workout clothes.
Dean shot upright, gagging and shrieking. Not a manly one either—more like a little girl. Beau and Marshall pointed at him, laughing manically at his disgusted expression.
"You—AHHH!" He rubbed his eye to get any egg remains he might've had out.
Unfortunately for him, your car rolled up to the driveway. You stepped out in your business attire. "Hey baby. They didn't need me after all to stay all day for work so I—" you paused at the sight of everything.
Your Mercedes Benz half cleaned, the newborn in a carrier with shades on beside a messy Dean with egg splatter, water, and whatever else was on him, and two evil grinning Beau and Marshall's who looked like they had just won the marathon and got millions of dollars.
"Don't ask."
"Wasn't… gonna?"
Dean glared at the twins. "You both are in a lot of trouble." Beau and Marshall's smiles faded. You snort. "What led them to do this anyway?”
Beau snitched, holding up a chubby finger. "Daddy decided we had to clean and he had to sleep!" Marshall nodded frantically, pleading their mother would take their side in this.
You look at Dean. He looked at you. "Now you're in trouble."
But he couldn't help the smile that graced his lips. "Hey? I was tired!"
After all, he had a terrible track record of taking care of the twins AND falling asleep.
All work belongs to @KODASALBUM 2026. Please do not copy my work, translate it, give to other websites or other platforms, or feed into any sort of ai. You’ll will definitely be blocked. Thank you for getting this far.
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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Bf!John Logan taking you on a date late night Friday on specific wishes ⸝⸝
blah: john decided to surprise you with a date idea that you hadn't quite anticipated. what did you expect from your sweet boyfriend?
warnings: strictly fluff, mentions of sweet confessions, and just wholesome! :)
note: i didn't like my old theme so… hehe. this is a bit short so sorry :,(
John Logan always surprised you with dates.
The last one he'd previously taken you on including hiking, camping, and beautiful waterfall visions that made you want to kiss him and cry ugly at the same time— simultaneously seriously.
So, what was it this time when he'd called you up and told you to get dressed and blindfolded you with his hands arriving at the location?
"Okay, you can open your eyes." John stood behind you, large hands covering your eyes. You gasp quietly at the scenery around you.
Staring around widely, it was an underwater viewing tunnel inside an aquarium exhibit with glowing deep blue highlights and red neon ambient lights reflecting from the ceiling.
John clutched your hand while walking in front. "You mentioned that you adored animals, so, I decided to take you on a little date to somewhere between marine and life." His hand reached down to pat your backside
You hid a smile. "Uh huh." You both walked down the straight dark pathway, eyes instinctively flickering down to the colorful pattern-texture floor design with awe.
John's hand lingered on your lower back, leading you through to stare at the marine life. You gripped the dark blue low railings while cooing at the swimming animals.
Couples stood around in their element. You witnessed one elderly couple—hand-in-hand, smiling at each other with wrinkles that didn't represent age, but livelihood and happiness. "Can we see the sharks?" You bounce on the toe of your sneakers eagerly, wide eyed at him.
He chuckled. "Sure baby." He murmured, guiding you into the direction of the large tank. The glow of vibrant shades of blue and turquoise gave shadows to your face. The soft palm of your hand pressed against the cool glass, mouth slightly open with wonder.
"They're all swimmin'." John pointed out.
The sharks around swam directly overhead and some bonked their snouts at the heavy glass. You squeal, the sight eliciting a laugh that made logan know why he fell for you. He felt his lips twitching at the angelic sound of the noise.
You pointed enthusiastically at the cheeky fishes that pressed their bodies against each other, fins flapping smoothly in the ripples. Some marine mammals were often shy and hid underneath or in between the coral reefs.
"I want a fishy so badly!" You frown at him, oblivious to the mere fact he thought that you were the most adorable thing ever. He affectionately pinched your cheek. "Yeah? we can get whatever you want." He indulged.
You blush. "So I can get a fish?"
"If that's what you want."
"…yes? I'll do every research when we get home." You nod frantically at his softening gaze. He ruffled your hair, smiling widely.
Logan tilted his head. "Good, because you know better than to ask for an animal without proper research." He tapped your nose. "I might appreciate your adorableness, but wouldn't put it over any animals health."
You roll your eyes with a smirk. "I know."
He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, murmuring, "you always do." Before you both locked into a gentle kiss.
John Logan loved you. But he also cared for everything. That included small animals.
All work belongs to @KODASALBUM 2026. Please do not copy my work, translate it, give to other websites or other platforms, or feed into any sort of ai. You’ll will definitely be blocked. Thank you for getting this far.
blah. this is the wedding everyone has been prepping for weeks on end for. did rafe fulfill his promise from last time? was the wedding as chaotic as you both thought it would be?
context warnings. fluff purely fluff, strong language, rafe being aggressive and rude, and that's about it. enjoy sweeties<3 this is really long btdubs !!!
the sound of waves crashing outside the small window echoed throughout the bedroom. you laid on rafe's chest, arms wrapped around his neck, one of his hands on your waist, the other cupped the back of your backside.
after decorating sarah's whole desired wedding venue for weeks, you decided to go on a small yacht ride until the day arrived.
a small snore escaped him which made your lips quirk at the corners, amusement flickering in your sleepy haze. "rafe? wake up." you coo.
he grumbled. "ten more minutes." he buried his face in your chest with a soft content sigh.
you lift your head to grab your phone off the side nightstand, checking the time. "it's sarah's wedding! we need to get back." you shake his burly arm that was now sprawled across both eyes, pretending he was asleep.
"we can miss it."
“no we can't."
"me and you in this bed. on the yacht. together. snuggling."
"rafe."
"fine."
the yacht eventually got back to the dock. you both rushed off, scampering to the large cameron mansion. ward swung the door open, pointing his thick finger in rafe's face. "you have fifteen minutes to get ready young man. i don't want to be there as much as you do."
sarah had left with her crew minutes earlier—kiara included to assist her with her wedding dress. she’d hired her own personal photographer, makeup assistant too.
rafe buttoned his navy blue suit, adjusting the tight tie around his neck with an angry grunt.
"i fuckin' hate dressin' up unless it's for important matters."
you froze mid pinning your hair. "this is important rafe. your sisters having one of the most important days of her life and you can’t even be happy for her?" you clipped.
he didn't even flinch nor acknowledge your correct comment about his lack of enthusiasm. " am happy for blessings. not curses."
almost snorting, you caught yourself and shook your head in disappointment. "behave yourself at the wedding, baby."
rafe leaned down to peck your lips. "i always do baby."
-+-
the wedding venue was packed with family, friends, pogues—much to rafe's frustration. he chatted with you and other family members majority of the time about random topics.
you had noticed rafe's ticking frustration. "hey, calm down." you soothe.
rafe’s voice was tight. "just wait for the objection. 'm gonna be the first one to raise my fuckin' hand. it's gonna be big ole rafe." he pointed to his strong chest. you giggle into your hand. "okay."
kiara bounced over and past rafe, bumping her shoulder in a friendly manner with barely concealed excitement. "are you excited? sarah's getting maaarieeedd!" she said in a sing-song tune.
rafe gently pried kiara away with the strap of her dress. "excuse you," he said sassily, his tone snappy with an indignant side glance.
jj bounded over. he wrapped an arm protectively around kiara's waist. "let's go try some of the desserts." he murmured, ushering her away, but not before she could shoot rafe a glare over jj's baring shoulder.
you shake your head at him. "let's just try to have a nice night?" you cup his face. his deep blue eyes stare back into yours. "depends." your eyebrows furrow. "on what?" he murmured, "if i get the slice i wanted."
"you're not getting fake john b’s statue head."
"i will." he shot back.
"you won't." you retorted.
"watch and see." he narrowed his eyes.
"whose going to give it to you?" you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
"i'll find my way." rafe said stubbornly, his fingers clutching your silk hip, dragging you off to the other side of the grassy ivory venue.
ward waved his glass in the air. "may i get everyone's attention please?" using the voice that commanded rooms silence. everyone's chatters blowed to an end, to soft silence. he lifted his champagne glass flute in the breeze. "cheers to my precious daughter—sarah cameron." who blushed, her mascara-coated lashes batting from beside john b.
"and her despicable but somewhat appreciative husband." ward cooed condescendingly. at the mere degrading tone, john b bristled, but held his tongue, jaw clenching instinctively at the jab. sarah's hand tightened on his hip reassuringly.
everyone exchanged uncomfortable glances. ward thrusted his glass up. "cheers!" everyone followed, albeit reluctantly and sipped their champagne with quiet laughter.
rafe's eyes locked on the wedded pair across the area, fingers tightening around the thin glass. "alright, let's get this on the go."
-+-
everyone seated for the moment. sarah walked down the aisle, hand tucked in ward's arm, smiling behind her vail at everyone's teary eyed expressions. john b wiped a stray tear. "she looks so gorgeous." he says to the priest who rolled his eyes. "looks like every other woman i see." he grumbled grumpily, ready to get the wedding over with already.
ward's polished shoes tripped on the runway, before regaining his bearings. he fumbled embarrassedly with his tie, ignoring the gasp from rose. eventually he delivered sarah to the stage, instantly shuffling to the audience to sit beside rose.
the priest stood between sarah and john b as they began.
"do you—sarah cameron, take john b as your lawfully wedded husband; to have and to hold, for richer, for poorer, and in sickness and in health?"
rafe snorted from behind. "definitely poor." you jabbed your elbow into his side. he frowned, shooting you a look. sarah smiled, unaware of rafe's belittling comment. "i do."
the priest turned to john b. "and do you—" but john b immediately shook his head. "i do. for everything. i do." he rubbed her hands in his.
you could hear the soft murmurs in the crowd, the audience pausing when the priest asked, "does anyone have any objections?" rafe attempted to raise his hand but you placed yours firmly over his larger one; keeping it down. he tried, but you were stronger in the moment. he ultimately gave up with scowl.
sarah and john b kissed. pope and jj cheered from behind, kiara and cleo on the other side behind sarah with exchanged cheesing grins. the audience erupted with happy applause.
cake time came around and sarah grabbed the large knife. everyone sat at their designated tables but rafe stood. "hey sis?" sarah's head perked up, expecting a smartass comment but instead rafe just smiled. "congratulations."
sarah's shoulders dropped. she gestured to the cake. "want a slice?" rafe’s smile got wider—more mischievous. "i do. and i want a certain piece." you facepalmed instantly. "rafe, no-"
he waltzed over like he owned the place because that was just rafe cameron. he took john b's head off the statue and ate it in front of everyone. jaws dropped, eyes widened, especially sarah and john b. rafe just smirked.
"perfect wedding sis." he said sarcastically.
rafe always got what he wanted.
All work belongs to @KODASALBUM 2026. Please do not copy my work, translate it, give to other websites or other platforms, or feed into any sort of ai. You’ll will definitely be blocked. Thank you for getting this far.
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blah. you’re usually decorating other people’s weddings considering your line of work, but what happens when it happens to be your boyfriends sister’s wedding?
context warnings. fluff purely fluff, strong language, in this household we accept sarah x john b, and strong language usage!
sarah was getting married this weekend to john b. the cameron family hadn’t approved, but then again, sarah did whatever she wanted without consequences from anyone.
the theme was babypink and ivory and she picked you to do all the decorations. you forced your boyfriend, rafe, to come along to help, claiming you needed, “manly hands” when you could’ve done it all by yourself, of course.
you just wanted to see him moan and brood.
“so? how do you think about my sketch?” your voice sing-song, tapping the eraser of the sharp yellow pencil on your plump bottom lip.
rafe muttered, “it looks like fuckin’ dog shit.”
your eyebrow raised with a snort slipping. “okay at least try to act excited for it.” one hand clutched the clipboard and the pencil, the other gesturing towards the decorations.
“your sister is getting married.”
“unfortunately.”
“this weekend.”
“i know. i dreaded it for weeks.”
you facepalm. “at least help me set up chairs.” you sigh. “you’re absolutely useless.”
rafe reluctantly swung plastic chairs over his broad shoulder, dragging them over to their designed spots as assigned on your paper.
“is this to your satisfaction?” he asked dryly, hands on his hips, looking unimpressed. you crossed your arms and popped a hip. “uh huh.”
you both moved efficiently throughout the afternoon, with rafe’s occasional grumbling like a toddler who’d been told they couldn’t gnaw on a poisonous crayon or chair leg.
currently you were on the phone with the cake planner. “yes. i saw pictures it looks absolutely delicious, i would like it with some more frosting though. she loves that. yes!”
rafe scowled from behind. his eyebrows pinched downward, mean mugging any party decorator that arrived to set items down. rafe even had the poor UPS driver scrambled back to his truck when he saw the irritable look rafe plastered on.
— + —
with exhausted hands and bodies, you and rafe collapsed on the ground. he was sweaty, body aching, his white polo drenched sopping wet. you exhaled heavily, your head spinning from how much you’d worked in the tannyhill heat.
a ping ringed from your pocket. you shifted uncomfortably on the poking grass, fishing your phone out your back pocket of the jean shorts, handing the unlocked device to him to so he could see the ultimate pictures of the decorated finished frosted cake. you’d figured he would have an opinion on it. a sarcastic comment or something.
he snatched the phone, eyes squinted. “hold on i need my glasses.” he shoved them on, a displeasured grunt escaping his tight lips. “that’s the damn cake they’re havin’? john b’s big head is right there!”
the cake was outright stunning with sarah and john b’s statues on top of it. you giggle, “yes. do you like it?” you mock with a grin. rafe threw his head back with the most serious, disappointed expression ever. “i’m not doin’ this bullshit with you. that’s the most—can i at least cut john b’s statue and eat the head?”
you pause. you turn your head, eyes searching his to see any signs or hints that he was joking but all you saw was sincere intentions.
your eyes widened the size of texas when you saw that he was absolutely serious about it too.
“you’re not allowed anywhere near a knife or cake. absolutely not, cameron!” you point at him and he just shrugged like he hadn’t just said the most outrageous thing ever. “worth a shot.”
All work belongs to @KODASALBUM 2026. Please do not copy my work, translate it, give to other websites or other platforms, or feed into any sort of ai. You’ll will definitely be blocked. Thank you for getting this far.
comments are loved and appreciated. this was going to be my tomorrow post but i decided to try it out today for two exact reasons. i have an exam tomorrow (wish me luck) and won’t be on all day, and i wanted to test out my new theme so lmk if you like it or not. enjoy <3.
blah: you’d been trying to hide your feelings from the guys about your crush on john logan, going even far to be rude to him, but they already knew. how unfortunate for you.
warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, strong language ahead, but otherwise there is nothing.
note: wrote this while listening to fue mejor by kali uchis hehe but i don’t intend to make it sad
Logan hadn’t spoken to you yet but he knew you personally and he figured you two could be enemies in a sense. You hung around Dean, which was his friend too but you didn’t necessarily like his presence at all. He’d caught that awhile back.
Tucker, Dean, Beau, Garrett lounged lazily around the house. Tucker folded his blanket on one end of the kicked out couch, Dean rolled his eyes. “Must you be so clean?” Tucker just smiled in retaliation and smacked Dean’s foot.
You sprawled out on the other end of Dean, shoveling candy in your mouth. The guys were watching some rerun movie with four stars.
Garrett coughed. “When’s Logan supposed to get here?” He flicked his wrist to flick off some bits of crumbs. Dean barely looked up from his glowing phone screen. “Twenty minutes.”
“You invited him?” You scoff inwardly, catching Dean’s sideway glance. “Yeah? He’s my friend. Don’t act that way.” He stole some of your candy, chewing obnoxiously in your ear.
Your gaze turned downcast. “I mean it’s just,” you began but was interrupted by Tucker, holding his finger up like a priest. “You like him and don’t want to see his face or it’ll open unwanted attention.” Garrett choked.
Dean’s jaw dropped, yours too. “Absolutely NOT!” You tossed a candy that hit Tucker upside the eye, prompting him wince, rubbing the small sore spot, shooting you a pouty look.
“What’s up guys?” The front door creaked open, revealing Logan standing there, duffel bag swinging in his hand. He wore a simple blue hoodie without sleeves, hair pushed back his burgundy bandana. “It’s hot out there.”
Your eyes landed on his. You two locked in an intense gaze for a millisecond before breaking eye contact that went unnoticed by others.
Garrett chugged down his water. “I bet so. News said it would be.” He countered.
Tucker high-fived Logan.
Logan flopped on the ottoman. “Whatcha guys watching?” He reached over to steal some of Dean’s popcorn. Dean instinctively slapped his hand. “Greedy, go get your own.”
“Stingy.” Logan shot back. He darted his eyes to the televeion, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Dean piqued up, “don’t ask. Tucker and Garett begged to watch it.” He jabbed his finger in Beau’s direction who was curled up on the other end of the couch, dead to the world.
Beau’s snore echoed through the room. Garrett snorted and poked Beau’s cheek. “He reminds me of those fat chipmunks. Except for this one has sleep apnea and a deviated septum.”
Dean swatted his hand away playfully. “Don’t wake the grumpy bear.” Garrett just smiled widely, unaffected by Dean’s playfulness.
You realized you unfortunately kept peeking at Logan, who was now slumped back on the couch cushion as it created a dip under his added weight, scrolling through social media.
Your mind wandered subconsciously what caught his mind. Was it hockey related? Cooking recipes? Unfunny memes? Other females? And why did that specific thought bring you uncomfortable stirring in your gut?
You must’ve zoned out because Logan spoke out of your mind, voice quiet but confused.
“Is there something on my face?” You snapped out of your trance and your eyes widened. You looked like a deer stuck in headlights. “Um—”luckily Dean saved you but in the most humiliating way humanly possible.
“She just has staring problems.” Dean reached his hands out, turning your head away from Logan’s bewildered face. Your face burned. “I do not!” Dean quirked an eyebrow. “So you were staring on purpose then?”
Your eyes went into slits. “No.” You spat. Dean grinned ruggedly. “Atta girl.” He went back to pestering Garett whom had his phone flashlight in Beau’s closed rolled back eyes for, “scientific purposes.” Is what he said.
🏹
Late afternoon you headed outside to your car parked in the driveway, where you got inside to start it up. You heard a spluttering sound that made your eyebrows raise worriedly.
To your luck—or you’d consider yourself unlucky by fate, Logan jogged outside, heading towards the green trash bin by the mailbox. Perhaps he was throwing something away or dragging it back to the backyard.
Your mouth opened and closed, deciding rather to ask him or not. You didn’t know if he worked on cars. You never tried to get to know him actually but you had to ask someone.
“Logan?” You call out tentatively. He whipped his head around at the sound of his voice being called, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”
“My cars acting up.” You point to it. You expected him to run over like a knight but instead he simply stared.
“Run that by me again?” He began making his way over.
You wanted to groan but let’s be real—he was your only hope out of this mess. “My car. It keeps making this funny noise every time I tried to start it.” You explain, making gestures with your hands to emphasize your point.
He leaned against the side of it. “Do it again.”
You reached inside to start the car up again and it spluttered before cutting off. Your jaw dropped, eyes wide like saucers. “NOOOOO!”
Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry about it. How about I give you a ride home tonight? I’ll bring your car back in the morning after I fix it.” He offered.
“Really? Thanks.” You didn’t expect him to be so polite to you after you treated him. He just beckoned for you to follow him to his truck.
Maybe he wasn’t that bad after all. Maybe you should try to get to know him and express those hidden feelings. Who knows how that might end.
All work belongs to @KODASALBUM 2026. Please do not copy my work, translate it, give to other websites or other platforms, or feed into any sort of ai. You’ll will definitely be blocked. Thank you for getting this far.
comments are loved and appreciated 🤍🪽 let me know how you felt about this one.
blah: You’re a cheerleader and you had pictures in approximately twenty minutes. Getting ready, you realized you forgot something and that something involved talking to your ex.
warnings: mentions of hooking up, strong language, rafe teasing you, and messy gossipers.
authors note: thank you so much for the likes and support I have on my last posts. It means a lot. Enjoy! :D
Your school was hosting important pictures for the school yearbook. You stood in the locker room, adjusting your cheerleading uniform, hands fumbling over the green pleated skirt while your teammates chattered behind you.
Your coach, Ms. Duffery strutted inside, knocking her knuckles firmly on the open door. “Ladies? Let’s go, we don’t have much time.” She flicked her watch up to check the time left, eyebrows furrowed.
“Does anyone have what they need?” Isabel, the cheer captain called out nervously. Girls around nodded. You attempted to tell her you couldn’t find your specific bow, but no one was particularly interested in whatever you had to say, more like shuffling out the locker room.
“Izzy!” You call out desperately. She turned around, feet planted by the locker door, hands on her hips. “Yeah? Did you forget something?” You threw your hands up in frustration, whipping your head around to search frantically. “Yeah my bow!”
She gasped dramatically, hand shooting out to grab her chest like you’d personally offended her whole bloodline. “That’s really important!”
You shot her a sarcastic glare. “You think?”
Her head poked out the locker door. “We’ll be out in a few! I’m helping someone with something.” She echoed. Coach Duffery could be heard exhaling sharply with a, “hurry up!”
You both searched for your bow repeatedly but to avail. You slumped on the bench, Isabel’s hand came up to rest on your shoulder. “Hey, at least you didn’t leave your uniform?” She bit her bottom lip. “Yeah.” Your voice disappointed because you never forgot about anything.
Suddenly you remembered everything crashing down. Rafe Cameron. You’d both hooked up after your cheer practice in his Range Rover.
“I’ll be back!” You shout, already rushing out the locker room, leaving a bewildered Isabel behind. “Where are you going?” You heard her in the distance but you were already sprinting down the hallway with determination.
You spotted Rafe hanging around Topper and Kelce. You panted heavily, hand planted on the wall to steady yourself while you almost slumped against the checkered floors. They all turned to face you, Kelce’s eyebrows shooting up in surprise, Topper’s head shooting over to you, eyebrows nearly touched, his eyes wide.
“What’re you doin’ over here?” Rafe asked, his hands clutching an open soda. You panted heavily before managing to say between exhausted pants. “My. Bow.” Rafe’s blue eyes widened. “Shit, yeah you left it in my car.”
“Your car?” Both Kelce and Topper simultaneously echoed after each other.
Your voice raised. “And you didn’t think to mention it to me before I left?” Rafe rolled his eyes like the bow wasn’t important to him. “Well, I was more focused on what we did.”
Kelce murmured, “What did they do?” His gaze bounced between you, Rafe, and Topper like this was an entertaining tennis match.
Topper murmured back, “I don’t know man, they’ve been broken up for some time.” They gossiped right behind you two like you both couldn’t hear them being absolutely messy.
“You’re kidding me?” You scoff. “Rafe I’m going to be late for practice. Do you have it? I have pictures!” You gestured to your uniform and a bow-less high ponytail.
Rafe’s eyes squeezed shut, index and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. “I left it at my house! I wasn’t gonna drive to your place late at night just to give it back. That’s absolutely ridiculous. I’d waste gallons of gas!”
“Why is at your house?” You took a step closer with your hands outstretched like the titanic. “You took my bow to your HOUSE!?” Rafe pointed back at you. “Don’t raise your voice at me! At least acknowledge my honesty! I could’ve lied and said I kept it in my car!”
Topper and Kelce gasped. “Why’s it at his house?” Topper whispered at Kelce who looked very much stunned. “She’s yelling…”
You held back the most exasperated scream yet. “Rafe please tell me you’re joking. I need my fucking bow! I have practice today!” He put his hands on your shoulders while leaning down to your height like he was talking to a toddler. “I was keeping it safe for you.”
“Keeping it safe from what exactly, Cameron? That’s my bow, Rafe! You’re kidding me? I have pictures and I’m going to look different amongst my teammates, my coach is going to yell at me, do you know what you just did?” You pointed your index finger in his face.
Rafe gently lowered your pointed manicured finger with his hand, the other squeezed your shoulder and set his backpack down, searching through it like it bothered him to do so. He held out your green bow with the school initials on the back. “This?” He wiggled it in front of your frustrated face like it was some piece of candy.
He had it all along. Rafe just wanted you to stay longer and fuss at him because it was the furthest he’d get in talking to you again. Maybe.
Your eyes widened and locked on the bow like it was gold—which to you, in this exact moment, you were a desperate pirate and that was your treasure. “Yes! Give it.” Your hand instinctively reached out for it before he yanked it back. “You had it this whole time!? I thought you like took it home. You lied to me!”
Again those cheeky idiots, Topper and Kelce gasped again more dramatically. “He has her bow!” Topper pointed at Rafe with exaggeration at Kelce who nodded frantically, his voice a higher pitch. “She wants it back!”
Rafe snickered and held it higher, a cocky grin plastered on his face. “You’re gonna have to come get it.” Your eyes narrowed irritably. “Rafe I don’t have time for games. I need it now, my coach is waiting on me! Give it back!”
He held it higher. “I miss you and if we don’t talk things out I will keep this bow forever.” Your eyes widened. “I do not have time for this.” You said through gritted teeth. He just smiled and moved away again. “You’re going to have to. We talk. Tonight, tomorrow, the next following day. But we will talk about our relationship. Got it?”
You shrieked but it was barely audible because that wasn’t even the rage you were holding back. “I have to go! Rafe give IT BACK!” You shoved him.
He didn’t budge but he pouted petulantly but realized you were serious and sighed, holding it out to you, tugging you to him by your elbow. “Okay, ‘m sorry, bad Rafe. You look pretty, at least can I get a quick kiss?”
Your lips twitched at the corners and you side swept him before jogging off back to the locker room. “HEY!” You heard his echoed bellow but you continued running, until you reached Isabel who sat on the bench still, fiddling anxiously with her hands, awaiting your return.
“Come on!” You gestured with your hand. She shot upright and smiled widely. “You got it!” You both ran to the auditorium while Isabel sniffed the air around her. “You smell like a guy.” You sigh. “Don’t worry about it.”
You enter with the rest of the packed cheerleaders inside and smiled when your coach glared at you two. “You’re late.” She scowled, tapping her watch to emphasize.
“Nope! We’re just on time.” You both smiled. At the thought of Rafe, you smiled and got into position while your coach shouted demands.
All work belongs to @KODASALBUM 2026. Please do not copy my work, translate it, give to other websites or other platforms, or feed into any sort of ai. You’ll will definitely be blocked. Thank you for getting this far.
blah: Rafe’s precious aunt invited you both to her cabin for the weekend with some other family members. Unfortunately, your car kept mysteriously breaking down that night. Will you find the culprit or will they just keep it secret?
warning: mention of oral, touching, strong language, that’s it. Enjoy your read babes 🪽
You and Rafe had been planning this out for months now. His grandmother invited him over for the weekend and insisted that he’d bring you along too.
She lived in the Appalachian Mountains which made Rafe apprehensive at first because of the rumors he’d heart about it, but he didn’t mind, especially if it meant that you’d be with him to keep his company.
You both packed heavy bags filled with clothes, towels, wash rags, soap, and other necessities you’d need for staying the weekend. Rafe drove the Cadillac Escalade while you sat in the passengers seat, map folded open while you searched the contents, reading out loud to him of where to go.
Phones didn’t work where you were on the street so you’d have to work with the regular manual maps which wasn’t exactly convenient but it would make do for now. You’d occasionally stop at pit stops for gas or snacks, but other than that, it was riding.
“Okay so right here it says turn,” you tell him. Rafe leans forward, looking out the window before taking a right. You gasp. “Left Rafe!” He clenched his jaw and spoke through gritted, frustrated teeth. “You never clarified where I was supposed to go.”
You wince. “Sorry baby.” He sighs, taking the other turn and continuing with the rest. Rafe had been moody all morning taking into account how much his grandmother had been expecting from him staying the weekend. He absolutely hated the woodlands.
Rafe eventually parked at the Shell gas station, putting the large SUV into park. He reached over you and unbuckled you before opening his door, jogging around the car while shooting you a grin and thumbs up through the window. You hid a smile, shaking your head. “My stinky.” He scrunched his nose at you.
That was his personal nickname for him. He neatly opened your car door handle and held out a large calloused hand. You took his hand into your perfect manicured one and got out. “So what’re we stopping for now?” He fished his phone out of his pocket, searching for the specific message that his grandmother sent, one hand squeezing your ass.
“She wants to try those Lowcountry Kettle chips and boiled peanuts.” He told you. Walking in the store hand-in-hand, heading straight towards the snack aisle. You meet the special aisle and reached for the kettle chips, flipping it back and forth to see the contents. “What flavor?” Rafe paused. “Shit, she literally didn’t even tell me which one she wanted.”
“Let’s just get them all.” You suggested. He nodded, grabbing handfuls and tossing them into the spacious metal store cart behind his broad back strained by his polo. “That should be good enough. Can’t spend all our money.” He giggled childishly.
You sort. “Cheapskate.”
“Am not.”
“You so are too.”
Rafe was utterly obsessed with you. While walking through the other aisles and between shelves, he had his burly arm wrapped tight around your smaller waist, rubbing affectionate circles on your hip. The store wasn’t crowded considering it was late night, but there were plenty of shoppers around.
﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀
Back on the road it was around midnight and you were both exhausted, taking turns driving or sleeping while the other drove. You were next to drive and it was pitch black while cruising the highway. Rafe helpfully pointed out where to go since he was more experienced and an expert on traditional maps than you, one hand on your thigh, rubbing circles while the other focused on driving with eyes on the road.
All of a sudden you both heard this loud heavy thud. Instantly, Rafe reached out and instinctively grabbed the wheel to pull the SUV off to the side of the road. He fished for his pistol in the back of the car before hopping out, circling around to see what the issue was. “I just got these fuckin’ tires! This is bullshit.” He rubbed the tension from his forehead.
You were still sat in the driver seat but you’d turned off the car. Rolling down the window, you held your bright phone flashlight out for him to see properly in the dark night. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” You ask worriedly, biting your lower lip in worry and guilt stirring uncomfortably in your gut.
Rafe sighed heavily. “Nah baby, just popped the tire.” He stood from his crouched position to make eye contact with you where you were sniffling, tears building up in those doe eyes. “Shit baby—“ he wasn’t good with comforting stuff. Ever since you two had been together he had been getting better at communicating and dealing with your emotions.
“I’m so sorry babe I didn’t mean to!” You explained frantically before he cupped your face, leaning in. “You didn’t. It’s okay. We’re okay you didn’t do anything wrong.” He reassured you which you nod, wiping away tears with your forearm while he pumped air into the tire with the portable tire inflator.
For the rest of the night he took over driving. Not that he didn’t trust you but you were still shaken up over the fact you’d popped the tire that you’d practically sprung out and demanded he drove the rest of the way which he just chuckled and took on the lead again.
“You should like…” Rafe grunted, fumbling with his belt. You took your eyes off the paper map, eyebrows furrowing in confusion while he was trying to unbuckle the brown leather belt. “I should what? You’re driving.” You remind him. He whined pathetically. “And I’m sure I handle that and drive at the same time, please?” He begged hoarsely.
“Fine—just make sure you don’t crash.” You tuck hair behind your pierced ears before leaning over the luxurious white console and tug down his boxers. He groaned when the air dropped onto the usually confined area. One large hand removed off the wheel while gently pressing your head down, driving expertly on his one calloused ring hand.
Before you could even lower your mouth around the red, pulsing, angry head, the car spluttered. His expression froze, mouth wide in that ‘O’ shape while his eyebrows pinched and pulled downward in outright fury and bewilderment. “What’s going on?” You tilt your head up, eyes wide in terror unlike him.
“Stupid faulty fucking vehicle!” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. You flinch and move from his lap and looked between him, then the spluttering car. He gently adjusted himself and patted you back in your seat. He pulled over in an instant to a stop, tires rolling on the crackling asphalt parking lot of a gas station that looked like it’d seen better days.
“You going to call your grandmother and tell her we’re gonna be late… again?” Yeah, this was the second time. You’d previously tried last week but Sarah had given birth and you’d both gotten tied up with the labor + delivery. “She’s gonna be so mad at me, baby.” Rafe reluctantly swiped open his phone and dialed his grandmother’s number with an exhale.
You watched him wince and nod hysterically at his grandmother’s heavy scolding before he hung up. “This is absolute garbage.” Rafe muttered and you rubbed his cheek with your soft thumb pad, draping blankets over his lap and your own before smiling exhaustively. “This is absolutely absurd.” He said.
“Well maybe the trip isn’t for us? You know, clues, hints?” You suggest. Rafe snorted and threw his hands up in exasperation. “I’ve been tryin’ to say that! No one wants to fuckin’ go to the Appalachian Mountains! Who even wants to live there? Pretty, yes. Scary? Hell yeah!” He exaggerated his point.
Your eyes narrowed. You wondered if somehow Rafe was causing all this damage to the car just to go. But he loved his grandmother. “Rafe are you somehow responsible for our car being damaged two times in one night?” You ask. His face turns bright red and he muttered under his breath but it was audible to you in the small space. He kept shooting you dirty side eye like you couldn’t see out your peripheral vision.
“Maybe.”
“Uh huh I knew it.” You knew he adored his grandmother. Sent her gifts every birthday, flew her out wherever she wanted, but he was petrified of the middle of the woods. “No you didn’t.” He shot back stubbornly. Then proceeded to drag you in the backseat with him. “I want cuddles. Right now.” He demanded. Though you just chuckled and smiled, leaning into his warm muscular embrace.
Your poor Rafe Cameron. But you loved him, even if he did have you two stranded in the middle of nowhere because of this one trip.
All work belongs to @KODASALBUM 2026. Please do not copy my work, translate it, give to other websites or other platforms, or feed into any sort of ai. You’ll will definitely be blocked. Thank you for getting this far.
comments are loved and appreciated <3.
Let me know if i should do a part two of this when they get there, feel like it would be hilarious heheh
blah: your best friend invited you to her boyfriend’s summer end of the year party. You decided to go on the contrary that Dean would be there. What happens when you run into him?
warning: passionate kissing, touching + groping, strong language, that’s about it babes.
Your best friend Allison invited you to the party of the century that her boyfriend was hosting. Certainly not because Dean Di Laurentis was gonna be there. You’d come solely for the alcohol and loud boosting music.
Allison caught your arm when you waltzed in. “Oh honey, you look stunning!” She crooned, the strong smell of liquor coating her breath. She’d definitely had a drink—or few before you had arrived.
You chuckle. “You’re already drunk Alli?” You tease, your hand catching her wrist. Allison cackled like you’d said the first funniest thing she’s heard in her eighteen years of breathing.
“No.” She inhaled the word like oxygen with a soft babbled laugh curling into her denial. “I’m just tipsy—had a few drinks.” She rambled and tugged you alongside her to the open bar.
Girls and guys were surrounded, passionately making out and groping or grinding against one another while sharing red plastic cups. People reeked of pure joy and excitement, drinks bubbling over with fizz.
Allison held up her own crinkled cup. “Cheers to us!” You smiled but clashed your cup against hers, taking a burning swig that made you instinctively gag in retaliation, sticking your tongue out with disgust.
“Ugh, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the taste of alcohol.” You mutter while wiping your lips.
She whimpered, “don’t say that honey, we need to get absolutely wasted tonight babydoll if you want your chances with Dean.”
Her eyebrows wiggled like she knew something you didn’t which made you curious and excited.
Your body tensed in instinct, eyes wide and darting around, expecting him to jump out of nowhere. “Where? Is he here right now?”
Her own blue eyes narrowed with a cocky smirk curving into her soft plump lips. “Uh uh.” You stared at her with playful feigned annoyance. “Did that on purpose didn’t you sneaky bitch!”
Allison spotted her boyfriend from afar, chatting with his friends. “Oh! There’s Doug, I’ll see you later.” She smooched your cheek and left her cheeky, bitchy, sticky lipgloss kiss print implanted on the skin.
You sauntered around the crowded house party, thigh high boots clicking on the hardwood floor. You spotted Dean standing by the large open window, laughing heartily with Beau, Garrett, John Logan, and John Tucker.
“Dean!” You waved your manicured hand in the air, bracelets jiggling faded in the background of the loud heavy music. Dean’s head whipped towards you, your smile widened, capturing his attention almost instantly upon spotting you. His heart pounded with desire when locking onto your skimpy outfit.
Dean checked you out and beckoned you over. “You look delicious tonight.” He huskily whispered, making your heart pound faster. “You think so? I chose this outfit because Allison said I would look good in it.”
He chuckled. “She wasn’t wrong.” Beau’s finger darted between you two. “You guys hooking up or something?”
You laugh and cut Dean’s sentence off. “Oh no we’re not, wish we were though.” Silence. Absolute silence. The guys exchanged glances and your face burned with embarrassment. Not even thirty seconds into the interaction and you’d messed with—without alcohol too.
“You wish?” Dean quirked an eyebrow.
“I meant to say that as a joke, don’t take it so personally.” You defended yourself, a frustrated pout making its way onto your painted lips.
Garrett cleared his throat. “We best be leaving you two to it. Come on guys let’s refill out drinks.” Instantly, Beau, John Logan, and John Tucker followed behind him like lost puppies.
Once they were all gone, Dean turned to you. “Did you mean what you said? About us hooking up?” He asked, his eyes darting between you and the back of his friend’s disappearing silhouettes. “You can say it. It’s just us now.”
You fumbled with the hem of your skirt. You hesitated for a few moments, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. “Maybe?” He smelled like lemon citrus with the smell of sandalwood. You’d caught the scent when you inhaled after embarrassing yourself in front of his friends.
“Yes okay I mean it.” You admit.
“You want to hook up?” Dean smirked cockily.
“Fuck you, Dean.” You spat, shoving his shoulder but you couldn’t help but smile amusedly at the cockiness radiating off him. “Like a makeout session or something.”
﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀
Dean had your back pressed against the open bathroom wall, cold chills rolling down your spine, back arched into his chest. His hands clutched your hips desperately, tugging you impossibly closer to him like he was trying to fuse your bodies together in the mere moment.
“You taste so good,” he murmured against your lips, melting in your arms. One arm was wrapped around his neck, the other hand squeezing and grasping Dean’s nape gently to soothe yourself from the passionate kiss.
Your lips were interlocked with spit dribbling down his bruised bottom lip, teeth clashing together with grunts and groans filling the silence in the otherwise bathroom with obscene sounds alongside gestures. His large hands lifted you up onto the counters edge, sucking feverishly into your soft skin.
A soft moan escaped. “Dean you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, how long I—“ his green eyes flickered up to yours.
“Don’t. Say. Another. Word.” He growled out. You obeyed with a frantic nod before he went back into the eager, passionate, and deep sloppy kiss. You parted your lips so his tongue could allow entry into your babbling mouth.
Dean lifted you off the edge only to spin you both around in the opposite direction, still locked in the kiss to slam you against the other wall, hiking your leg on his heavy hip. You whimpered, deepening the kiss with him.
His hand reached down to under your skirt before a knock at the bathroom door ruined everything in a millimeter of seconds.
“Hey Dean? Know you’re pretty busy in there obviously by the sounds, but Beau kind of busted his ass and needs someone to take him to the hospital. I’m kind of buzzed too.”
And who other was it than Garrett. Dean groaned frustratedly, pressing his forehead against yours as you two broke the kiss.
His eyes connected with yours. “Another time?”
You nod. “Another time.”
Dean adjusted his clothes while you did yours. He opened the door and was greeted with the sight of drunk Garrett, his eyes glossy and hazed with a half-drunken red solo cup of alcohol. He looked between you two with the infamous lazy smirk sprawled on his face.
“Ah, that’s what you were up too.”
He pointed at Garrett. “Not another word.” Garrett held his hands up instinctively but his smile didn’t falter, it widened. “Alright! You got it. Beau’s over there.” He jabbed his finger in the direction Beau laid on the floor, groaning with some girl frantically checking over him.
Dean sighed. “On it.”
You’d hoped there would be another time you and Dean got to meet again, but luck was one in a million. At least that was a moment you would personally never and couldn’t forget.
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