#kooks

you and your friends had moved for the new adventure, and thankfully you had found a job in your field pretty quickly. while your friends looked for jobs in their field, they acquired jobs at some of the restaurants, bars, and catering gigs in town.

that was how your best friend met topper.

when she first told you the story, the blush on her cheeks had never been brighter. him and his buddies had been out that night — at the bar she worked at. almost immediately, topper started flirting with her. she claims she played it cool, but from her giggling you can tell that she was excited to talk to him as he was to talk to her. you were so, so happy for her.

…until she mentioned how he had a friend.

“absolutely not,” you stated, shaking your head,

“why not?!” she demanded. “the friend said you were cute!”

you raised an eyebrow at her. “you showed him my picture?”

she nodded. “he was cute! i swear!”

you sighed. “what’s his name?”

“kelce.” a mischievous smile began to play at her lips. “him and topper want to meet us at a party their other friend is throwing this weekend.”

“did you meet that friend?” you asked. “do you think he’d be cool with us coming?”

she dismissed you with a playful wave of her hand. “rafe’s a kook. they wouldn’t be kooks if they didn’t show off their wealth to the whole island.”

you laughed. “okay, fine — i’ll go, but who the fuck names their kid rafe?”

only the richest man on the entire fucking island did, apparently.

you were excited to meet kelce, but you couldn’t help but be curious as to who exactly rafe cameron was. your friend didn’t meet him, neither of you looked him up, but then again — there was a double date to prepare for.

your best friend had gotten ready together after the work day. bikins under levi cutoff shorts, crop tops, and sandals were sported, but the main event was how somehow you both mastered the beachy blowout and natural makeup look in this humidity. once you were done, you both caught an uber and headed straight for the cameron residence.

it was fucking massive.

there was no other word.

and, honestly… it was like something out of project x.

strobe lights, music blasting, and loud laughter and screams. your best friend was more of the partier, so she didn’t look too phased — but you? you were fucking bright-eyed. you hadn’t experienced anything like this before, and even if the date didn’t work out… at least there would be other things to occupy you.

once the uber had parked in front, you spotted a man waiting on the front stoop with his phone in his hands. your friend typed a quick text, hit sent, and through the window you watch the man on the front stoop smile.

place your bets now, you thought. that’s definitely topper.

and that he was.

when you both had met him on the front stoop, he engulfed your friend in a cute hug. afterwards, he extended a smile and his hand to you, and you shook his hand appreciatively.

a man that knew boundaries and manners… fuck yes, bestie.

he led you both inside and you had to stop your jaw from dropping. the party looked crazy from the outside, but nothing could compare to the absolute mayhem that was occurring inside. pong, lines being cut on a few tables, people jumping into the pool from the roof… you name it.

“this is awesome,” you spoke absentmindedly to no one in particular.

“i know,” topped laughed. “kelce’s around here somewhere... drinks?”

he led you both to the kitchen. if you were being honest, you knew that topper and your friend would hit it off pretty quickly and you didn’t want to cock-block them. you were hoping that kelce would find his way to you so you both could have your own fun, and leave your friends to their own devices.

…that was until topper started trying to call kelce over. topper, a bit drunk at this point, didn’t really get the memo from his friend that was turned around, basically back into the corner… that kelce did not want to be disturbed. in fact, when kelce finally got the message, he ripped away from whatever had caught his attention, and turned towards topper’s voice angrily. when he turned away… there was a petite woman pushed into the corner. she seemed very pissed off that kelce had broken their kiss.

who could blame her? he was hot.

no one could blame you for being a little upset, but you wouldn’t tell anyone that.

topper was at a loss for words. you almost felt bad.

letting the liquor provide comic relief, you spoke, “she’s hot. can’t blame him.”

topper laughed and then stuttered, trying to find the words to fight the embarrassment of the situation. even drunk, his manners were impeccable. his and your friend’s eyes revealed a mixture of guilty and sympathy, and you couldn’t deal with how uncomfortable it made you feel. your first instinct was to pretend it didn’t bother you… and if other people ignored your pain, you could too. it gnawed at you in the back of your throat — a rock lodged in your esophagus. your voice was tight, your cheeks were hot, and frustrated and embarrassed tears were pickling at your eyes.

“guys, don’t worry about it,” you laughed, trying to brush it off. “top, where’s the bathroom?”

maybe you couldn’t save yourself from embarrassment, but you could save them from secondhand embarrassment. once he directed you, you gave them both a smile and set off.

if you were being honest… it did hurt that had happened. it was fucking embarrassing. nothing horrible, but combined with having drank in a while, and you were already tipsy? you were feeling emotional, and that wasn’t a good luck. you needed a few minutes in the bathroom to cool off.

you texted your friend that you were going to find the pool after and that she shouldn’t wait up for you — you wanted her to have fun with topper.

you were barely in the bathroom for a few minutes when you heard banging on the door.

“hurry up!” a gruff voice from the other side of the door called.

you shut the water off and brushed away the loose tear. your eyes were red, and your face was a bit puffy, but you figured you’d be fine. you’d probably never see the guy on the other side of the door anyway.

as you opened the door, he went to bang on it again. with his weight forward, he accidentally stumbled into the bathroom while you were still in it.

“sorry, dude, uh —“ he rasped, standing before you and staring awkwardly down at you.

“you’re good…” you spoke, before trying to brush past him.

he caught your upper arm.

“woah, dude,” you laughed hesitantly, trying to step away from him. “i’m leaving, don’t worry.”

“sorry —“ he let go of your arm, still peering down at you. “you’re crying.”

“what? no,” you faked a laugh. “heat got to me s’all. needed some air.”

he eyed you. “never seen you before. not from around here?”

“no,” you shook your head. “my friend and i were invited.”

“by who?” he asked, raising a brow.

you took a step back, not particularly enjoying the third degree in a small space. “this guy she likes… topper.”

his eyes widened, almost in realization. “yeah, yeah… he told me about that. said there was another girl… for kelce.”

you laughed, but with a slight scoff in your voice. “he’s a bit… preoccupied at the moment. with someone else. i was going to go play pong after i… saw.”

“knew he had a pretty girl coming, and did that? guy’s a dick.”

you laughed, and shook your head — brushing off his comment. “‘m sure he’s fine. i don’t know who his friends are — not really in the mood to talk shit about someone i don’t know.”

“sweetheart, he’s one of my best friends — guy’s a dick.”

a smile played at your lips as you raised an eyebrow at the man. “and who are you?”

“the owner of this house,” he replied. “i’m rafe.”

you smiled, and introduced yourself as well. “i’ll, um — leave you to it, then. see you around.”

you turned to leave, when you heard him say your name. while peering down at you, he spoke, “nah… let’s mess with him.”

you shouldn’t have been excited… but you couldn’t deny that you were.

rafe led you back into the kitchen and you smiled at your friend. topper turned to look at you, and his eyes immediately perked up when he saw rafe walking directly behind you.

you greeted them both, but barely before rafe had picked you up by the hips and placed you on the counter next to your friend. you bit back a squeal at the motion, but rafe had leaned against your side as he cracked a beer.

topper turned to you. “i don’t know how you found him, or how you got him out of the woodwork… but the man barely comes to his own parties. nice job.”

you laughed, and let topper and your friend continue their fun.

“so…” you began, turning to rafe. “if you don’t come to your own parties, how do you have fun at things like this?”

a smirk played at the corner of his lips. “they’ve been kind of boring for me, lately, i don’t know… i’m usually in the corner somewhere, smoking.”

sarcastically, with a grin, you asked, “are you telling me i can’t convince you to be my pong partner?”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you could convince me to do a shot with you.”

mischief danced in your eyes. rafe was quick to notice, and the look in his eyes matched yours.

he immediately went for glasses and liquor.

“and you got him to lay off the snow?” asked topper, mouth wide. he looked back to your best friend, grinning. “you’re both coming to the next one.”

rafe poured four shots and handed them off to topper and your best friend. they smiled and laughed to themselves before linking arms, and taking their shots.

“i like to take mine a different way,” rafe rasped, eyes peering down at your lips. “especially since my boy kelce has been staring us down since i put you on this counter.”

a smirk was beginning to form on your lips. in a sultry voice, you asked, “are you suggesting we give your friend a show, rafe?”

you stared into his piercing eyes before he spoke. his lips were parted, and he almost looked hungry. the heat was getting to the both of you making a shiny sheen of sweat glow because of the strobe lights. his eyes were focused on you, and really on you. it threw you off how rafe could have so many things going on around him, barely knowing you — and you were the apple of his eye. the next words rolled off his tongue like sugar, “that’s exactly what i’m suggesting, sweetheart.”

your teeth sank into your bottom lip as a blush rose across your cheeks. with a boldness you were a stranger to, you lifted your shirt above your head to reveal your string black bikini that barely hid your chest.

you figured rafe was lying about kelce — but that was until you saw him and the girl separate, and were now closer to where you and rafe stood. kelce had thrown a few glances your way every now and then, but now? now he was blatantly ignoring the girl next to him as he stared at your rack and rafe.

you threw back your shot, bending your chest towards rafe. you looked back to him with a smile on your face, and plucked his shot from his hands. holding your beasts together and placing the glass in your cleavage, you threw him a wink. rafe’s gaze darkened — and you knew you were in for it.

rafe rested a hand on your waist before he dipped his head lower. his lips wrapped around the circumference of the glass, and threw his head back with ease. your eyes drifted downwards to his broad shoulders, the thickness of his neck, and the muscles in his arms….

oh… you were in for it, alright.

before you knew it, rafe placed his glass down and connected his lips with yours. a whine of surprise rose and died in your throat after rafe placed both of his large hands on the warm skin of your waist. you held rafe’s strong jaw in both of your hands as you kissed him back, letting your tongue dance at his bottom lip.

“you’ve been too sweet to me tonight,” you whispered against his lips. “when are you going to let me be sweet to you?”

“fuck…” he rasped, stealing another kiss. “as soon as i know kelce knows what he missed out on.”

you laughed. “he’s been staring, rafe, come on…”

rafe had wrapped his arms under your ass and hoisted you against his chest. your hair cascaded down around you both, shielding the rest of the party goers for how your lips couldn’t leave his.

“if my dick wasn’t so hard right now — i’d shove it in his face more,” rafe spat. “teach that prick a lesson about how he should treat a beautiful woman.”

you giggled against his lips. “another time — please, rafe. i need you.”

a deep growl went off in his chest, and he let you swallow it whole. rafe kissed you once more before he swung you over his shoulder, one hand firmly planted on your ass to keep you steady, and began walking towards the upstairs.

laughing, you raised your heard to wave goodbye to topper and your best friend — who were laughing and happy for you as they waved back.

with each step towards an empty room, you giggled at rafe as he was cursing at people who got in his way. he kicked a couple of people out of the room before he let you fall onto your back on the bed. your giggles died within you as he began to crawl over you.

“what if i wanted to ride you, baby?” you whispered, running a thumb along his cheek as you bit your lip.

he kissed the inside of your hand as his eyes never left yours. “no, sweetheart — never had such a sexy woman below me. i’m taking my fuckin’ time.”

“taking your time?” you asked. “you’re the host of the party.”

“fuck ‘em,” he spat, capturing your lips once more.

rafe’s movements were much more dominant than in the kitchen. the privacy of the four walls and closed door allowed him to cage your body in and wedge the front of his hips against yours. you hooked your ankles behind his lower back, pulling him into you with a grinding motion. little whimpers left your lips as the friction from your jeans hit your clit in the perfect motion, making you shiver in rafe’s arms.

“want those pants off, daddy,” you rasped. “don’t make me wait.”

“call me that again and i’ll give you anything you want, sweetheart,” he spoke, his hands immediately darting for his belt buckle.

you tore off your and rafe’s pants and rafe made quick work of taking that skimpy bikini off your breasts.

“i almost told you no when you asked to go upstairs,” he spoke, his hands slowly sliding up your stomach. “i wanted to make kelce so fucking jealous…” the palms of rafe’s hands rested on the swell of your breasts, thumbs drawing circles on your nipples. “wanted him to realize that the chick next to him had nothin’ on you… that i was the one to have you… wanted to see the realization in his eyes….” his thumbs and pointer fingers began rolling your sensitive buds in between each other, drawing sharp breaths from between your lips. “but i think you were right, sweetheart. don’t want anyone to see what’s mine.”

“yours?” you let the pads of your fingertips slide down the length of his chest and stomach. you kept your eyes locked on his, provoking him. “no man’s ever been able to make me cum before. what makes you think you’re different?”

he raised an eyebrow, darkness covering his irises. he was silent for a moment, studying you. you kept your baiting look on your face, but inside you grew worried.

rafe’s hand held your jaw in his, thumb prodding at your plump bottom lip. “gonna be a brat for me, that it?”

you shouldn’t have — but you did anyway. “and what’re you gonna do about it?”

an evil smile crept up on rafe’s perfect face. he let go of your chin and got off of you. you were curious as to what his goal was, but that was until he got himself between your legs. you laid back against the bed, and when you looked up — you realized there was a mirror on the ceiling.

you gasped at the sight. your hair was as crazy as your skin was flush. your eyes were as wild as rafe’s, and he stared back at you with darkness and lust all wrapped into one.

“you see that, sweetheart?” he asked, staring back at you. “sight that almost made me take you right there in the kitchen. you gonna be good for daddy, and let me show you how i’m better than all of those little boys?”

your teeth sank into your bottom lip as your cheeks blushed. “yes, daddy, please.”

“so polite,” he rasps, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. a whine brews in your throat at the affection. “open your legs. let me see that pretty pussy.”

on command, you parted your legs for him. rafe slid one large hand down from your knee to the beginning of your tanned thigh. you watch as his hand cups your mound, and you shiver at the feeling.

“oh… just so soft for me…”

his voice was like caramel as it rolled of his tongue. smooth and sweet. he looked at your pussy like he fucking adored it, there was no other way to put it. when his head finally dipped and his tongue nudged itself at your clit, you leaned your head back against the pillows.

“you like to hide, huh?” he spoke, eyes wide at you as his tongue dripped in between your folds. “not tonight, darlin’. you’re watching me.”

you lifted your head up and watched as his tongue slid into your entrance, and rafe began to nudge your clit with his nose. you gasped at the feeling — completely unaware that was even a thing someone could do, let alone be good at.

“fuck…” you quietly gasped, folding your lips over each other.

rafe replaced his tongue with two fingers — sliding them in and out and curling at the top. a low hum began to build as you fought to keep your eyes on him. the hum was deep and warm, filling your rib cage. you didn’t want to scream, afraid of being too loud or too much for rafe… but keeping your eyes open was enough of a fight. when his perfect, plump lips made contact with your clit… you couldn’t help it. you let out a loud sigh as your vision began to glaze over.

“i wanna do everything i can to this pussy,” rafe bit, sucking at your clit. “smack it, lick it, fuck it, anything i want… just so warm and sweet.”

“…fuck…” while only one word, your voice had never broken so much. rafe’s words were so sensual and mind numbing it was hard not to lose yourself in the moment, free to completely enjoy the sight and feeling of one of the hottest men you had ever seen put you on a pedestal and fucking worship you. his tongue, velvet, was working its way around your clit like it wanted your thighs to clench and wrap around his head. “i’m so close, rafe…”

“that’s it, baby, yeah.” the slurping sounds from below you were pornographic. your hips were jutting up and down to meet his lips and fingers as he plunged inside of you. your hands had found the sides of his head, sad there wasn’t any hair to hold back. “you wanted to be a brat before, now what? blame all of those little boys? now look at you — too fucked out to care. dirty fuckin’ girl.”

he was right. your boldness had left you with your sanity. the low hum had now spread throughout your body until it was everywhere. a soft, quiet vibration could be felt in every one of your limbs until you sure you were shaking. a cocky bastard like rafe — you should’ve wanted to deny him your orgasm, the metaphorical trophy. however, every fiber in your being was telling you he deserved it. his tongue, his lips, his nose, his fingers, his eyes — they wanted you to finish all over his face, and they deserved it. every last drop. every bit of it. every. fucking. bit.

“you scared, baby? don’t get shy on me now.” he had now raised his face where now only his hand was on your pussy. with a concerned, focused look on his face, he dipped two fingers into your entrance as his rough palm was working your clit. “you want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

you shut your eyes for a little longer than you should’ve, but opened them back up for tears to collect in the corners of your eyes. the approach of an orgasm was like a current in water, sucking you under. there was no fight and there was no giving in. it was heavy, fast, and hard — drowning where you head had no chance of staying above water. your body was being pulled every which way as your brain fought to remain present, in control. through your glazed over eyes, you could see rafe smirk.

“oh — i don’t think my girl’s listening to me, is she?” his taunting voice was sending you up a wall. the rat bastard — making you feel so good and then demanding that you respond as if your mind wasn’t mush. he moved himself so he was now hovering over your body, balanced on one arm. “i know you can hear me. come on, baby — you wanna cry? do it. fuckin’ cry for me, darlin’.”

you weren’t sure why you needed permission — but something in your insecurity snapped that allowed you to let out one singular strangled moan in your sand paper throat. it was whiny, and soft, and most of all — fucking pathetic. you could see in rafe’s eyes he loved it.

“been so good for me, letting me play with you,” he whispered against your lips as he continued with his hand. “seeing this little body give in — wanna see how far i can go. can’t wait to split you on my cock.”

“let me cum on your cock, rafe, please…” you spoke through your tears. “need it so badly. please let me…”

“can’t cum without a cock inside of you?” he asked, immediately sitting up and undoing his pants. “finally allowed yourself to be a whore and ask for what you want… lettin’ me use that pussy…”

you were nodding furiously, tugging at him to come lay on top of you once more. he batted your hands away, confusing you.

“nah, lay back,” he spoke. “…because i know you want me to use that pussy, don’t you?”

“yes, yes,” you cried, voice breaking. “just want you to use me — fuck, please, rafe…”

there was that smirk again — before he dove in.

rafe had pushed your legs against your chest and held you there as his cock slid easily inside you. since you were denied a very close orgasm — your pussy had never been wetter. it was like your slick was causing him to slide further and further inside so he could be buried in there. with every thrust, your pussy tightened around him — and rafe let you know.

you stared up at the mirror on the ceiling as you watched rafe’s muscles flex. his shoulders and back — holding you down, making you take every thrust. watching his glutes tighten and release with every thrust sent shivers up and down your spine. however, nothing, not one single thing, could compare to the way rafe’s arms flexed around your head and body — holding you in place.

“fucking love your cock, daddy,” you whimpered in his ear. “so, so deep. feels so good it hurts.”

he groaned against your ear, straining to fight against the pleasure. his thrusts began to pick up strength and speed, refusing to give in before you do.

“can tell it hurts, baby — pussy sucking me in like she’s never cum before,” he gasped, his own voice threatening to break. “just needed someone that knew how to work you, huh? give you what you needed? fuck you like the slut you are?”

you dug your face into the crook of his neck, feeling lost in his words and embrace. “slut for your cock, daddy — fuck, just like that. just like that — right there!”

one of his hands reached up to grab a fistful of your hair, and yanked you back. with parted lips and gritted teeth, rafe forced himself against your throat and began to suck on the soft skin. the strain of the position took away what last bit of control you had. you were completely at rafe’s mercy — and you didn’t mind. the head of his cock was pounding against that spot inside of you. your brain and the lower half of your body were working in tandem — acting like they had never had an orgasm before, but that wasn’t the case. no — they had just never had an orgasm like this before. the kind where you are completely out of control, unable to get it back, and under the hands of a man who took such good care of you. maybe you should’ve been scared because you barely knew him, but you weren’t. he wanted your orgasm as much as you did — and you let your naivety get the best of you.

“never wanted to breed a pussy so fuckin’ badly,” he spat against the skin of your throat. “she wants my cum so badly, doesn’t she? sucking me in — what else?”

incoherent. that’s all you were. rafe’s hips smacking against yours, cock hitting just right — there was nothing that allowed you to stay present and sensible in that situation. you were all his, under his control.

“be mean,” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut. “be mean to me — and i’ll cum. fucking christ — please.”

“pussy like this, dirty as you are —“ he spoke, trying to fight his own orgasm. “no one should touch you but me. i own this pussy. me. no one can fuck you like me, that right?”

it was like music to your ears. your pussy was being split open and fucked raw — so dirty, so naughty, so wrong. yet, you were both grasping onto each other like there’s was nothing else in the world. rafe was working his cock into your pussy like your orgasm was his, and his alone. he —

he got tired of waiting for a response. he lightly smacked your cheek, and wrapped a hand around your throat.

you couldn’t be surprised — because your pussy only got wetter.

“you’re gonna fucking cum for me,” he spat against your eyes. “that’s mine. all mine.”

you caught a glance of what you looked like in the mirror above — a mess. a fucking mess. your face was covered in sweat, spit, and tears. your hair was everywhere, just like there was a flush all over your body. you saw the way rafe’s veins in his neck and forehead tightened and protruded as he spat dirty words against the side of your face.

“give it to me,” he spat through gritted teeth.

your eyes couldn’t leave the mirror. it shoved you farther and farther into your trance that you couldn’t look away. couldn’t move. couldn’t think about anything else.

“it’s yours, it’s yours…” you cried, throwing your head back.

your hands immediately came up to dig your nails into his back. your back, arched, pushed your tits into rafe’s face. his face, in awe, couldn’t help but suck a nipple into his mouth as he watched your body fucking shake. there was no more low vibration — your body, every limb, had fully succumbed to shaking and crying.

“pussy so tight,” he gasped. “fuck, fuck, fuck…”

through the mirror, you watch both of your orgasms hit you at the exact same time. with one snap of rafe’s hips, the muscles of his ass tightened where his pelvis locked with yours. his back and shoulder muscles went taut, rippling with the bout of adrenaline running through his veins. with rafe’s body holding yours down, he stopped your body from spasming. your skin was prickly to the touch as your blood was pumping, pumping, pumping. the walls of your pussy squeezed around his cock as strangled gasps pushed past your lips, and were swallowed by rafe.

against your lips, he whispered, “never letting you go now, princess.”

you giggled softly, shivering. “is that so?”

“yeah,” he mumbled, kissing you. “you’re fucked.”

- - -

happy nye here’s some smut HAHA love yall

Isla snickers. “Why? You don’t wanna be Mom’s helper?” she asks teasingly.

Her sister scoffs. “She’s practically a bridezilla right now.” Kie pauses and Isla hears her mom’s voice in the background. “Mom said she emailed you the details of the number of desserts and stuff that need to be ordered. And for the decorations, she just wants you to get the flowers. Everything else she said we’ll get from here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Isla says, weaving past other pedestrians as she walks in the direction of her mom’s favorite bakery. “Do you want anything while I’m here?”

“No, I’m chill,” Kie says. “Let me know when you’re headed back.”

“Will do,” Isla answers before ending the call.

It’s a beautiful day out, not too unbearably warm as it tends to get in the summer. The baby blue romper she wears is perfect for this kind of weather, sunglasses shielding her from the sun as she approaches the bakery. Her parents’ twentieth wedding anniversary is quickly approaching, and they decided to throw a party to celebrate. And as much as their mom loves to host a good party, she tends to stress herself out when it comes to the planning part of it, so Isla and her sister have been recruited to help pull it together.

So while Kie is back at home finalizing the guest list, the music arrangement, and caterer, Isla is in charge of dealing with the dessert, flowers, and other decorations. Fortunately, their mom is a Type A personality, so when Isla checks the email Kie was talking about, everything that Isla needs to do is written out in detail.

Entering the bakery, the air conditioner blasting her upon entry. The teal, pink and white theme is bright and surprisingly not an eyesore, and the employees behind the counter greet her with friendly grins. The next couple of minutes are spent with Isla placing the order her mom requested: a three tiered cake, three dozen cupcakes, brownies, and an assortment of cookies, all to be delivered at least two hours before the party starts. She charges it to her dad’s credit card, as instructed, and once that order is placed, she gets herself an iced latte before heading off to her next stop: the flower shop.

She doesn’t mind running these errands, her Beats covering her ears as she makes her way down the sidewalk before letting them hang around her neck when she enters the shop. Isla leisurely admires the various types of flowers, the assortment of colors, petals, and scents that surround her.

Her fingers brush along the petals of sunflowers, her favorite flowers, a smile tugging on her lips. She admires the softness of the petals, just as her phone rings in her pocket. Pulling it out, her smile widens a little when she sees Rafe’s name on the screen. “Hello?” she asks, head tilting as she admires the wall of baby’s breath.

“Hi,” Rafe says. Isla can hear the smile in his voice, one that makes her cheeks warm. God, when the hell was the last time she has been so giddy over a guy? “Out of curiosity, are sunflowers your favorites?”

Isla pauses, gaze dropping to the sunflowers before she spins around and looks out the window pointing to the street. A surprised huff of a laugh escapes her when she sees Rafe standing out on the sidewalk, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the phone to his ear, grinning at her. Isla raises her eyebrows as he raises his free hand in a wave, shaking her head as she gestures him inside.

She sees him laugh. “What’re you doing here?” she asks through the phone as he enters the store, the bell above the door jingling.

Rafe chuckles, hanging up the call as he approaches her, making his way around the pots and flower arrangements. Isla can’t help but admire him, wearing a simple outfit of blue pants and a white button down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and sunglasses hanging from the neck. He looks good, the sight of him making her pulse quicken as she slowly pockets her phone.

“I met up with some friends earlier,” he tells her, coming to a stop in front of her. Isla doesn’t think she’ll ever get over how much taller he is than her. She has to tilt her head back just to maintain eye contact. “Remembered you telling me you’d be out here running errands, figured I’d keep you company.” He raises an eyebrow, turning his body towards the front of the store as he points to the door with his thumb. “Unless you want me to go.”

“No,” Isla says with a burgeoning smile. “I could use the company.”

His answering grin is panty-dropping, which is super inconvenient given that they’re in public. He tilts his head, a silent go ahead, and Isla chuckles as she walks over to the counter to place the order, in accordance to her mom’s email. As Isla talks to the florist, Rafe stands next to her, elbow resting on the counter and body facing hers with little space between them.

While the employee puts in the order in their system, Rafe speaks up, “So you never answered my question.” When Isla raises a questioning eyebrow at him, he clarifies, “Are sunflowers your favorite?”

Isla smiles, tilting her head. “Why do you wanna know?”

His smile is boyish and utterly flirtatious, and Isla is no better with the way her chest flutters as he looks down at her. “For future reference, of course.”

His answer makes heat pool into her cheeks, the mere thought of Rafe buying her flowers both crazy and thrilling. As she pulls out her dad’s credit card to hand over to the employee, Isla looks away from Rafe and answers, almost shyly, “Yeah, they are,” before hiding her smile by wrapping her lips around the straw to sip at her iced latte.

Once the order at the florist is placed, they walk out of the shop, Rafe opening the door for her to let her exit first. “You got any other errands you need to run?” he asks, putting on his sunglasses.

“No,” she says, putting away her headphones in her tote bag and wearing her own sunglasses. She glances up at him, biting the inside of her cheek before asking, “What about you? You got any plans?”

Rafe tilts his head back, letting the sun bathe his face as the corner of his mouth curves up. Isla’s not sure if she’s ever seen him smile this much. “I was thinking of heading to the park, just chilling for a bit.” He looks down at her. “If that interests you.”

Isla’s heart stutters. “Lead the way.”

*****

“Oh! Wait, can we go in here for a minute?” Isla asks, stopping in front of her favorite bookstores out here on the mainland. 

When she glances at Rafe, he dips his chin a nod. “Let’s go,” he says, pulling open the door for her.

She’s not surprised at the gentlemanly traits he exhibits; he may have behaved like an asshole in the past, but he was born and raised on Figure Eight. The families there raise their kids to be the cream of the crop, in every sense of the word.

The bookstore smells like it always does; paper, aged leather, old books. Isla inhales deeply as she smiles politely at the girl behind the counter before heading towards the romance aisle. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees Rafe following after her, sunglasses still on yet a smile tugging on his face the moment she looks at him, and her heart does a silly flip.

They haven’t had a chance to see each other since they kissed at Midsummers two days ago, but they’ve been texting a lot. All of the time. In the midst of hanging out with her friends and helping her parents plan the party, she and Rafe get to know each other a little more and more through their texts. But spending real time with him, that’s what Isla wants, especially if there’s a chance he’ll kiss her again. Because, Goddamn, she can’t stop thinking about that kiss. It has tilted her world on its axis, her skin growing warm just by playing it on a loop in her mind.

The worst part is she can’t even talk to anyone about it; not her sister, not Sarah or Cleo. So for the last two nights, she has been laying in bed, replaying the kiss over and over again in between texting Rafe, a development in her life she didn’t see coming at all. 

Isla’s fingers brush along the spines of the books, gaze slipping over them to see if any catch her eye. She’s also well aware of Rafe’s presence, biting back a smile as she pulls out a book with an intriguing title and flips it to read the summary. As she does so, she can feel Rafe’s gaze on her, leaning his shoulder against the shelf with arms crossed over his chest, and the longer she pretends not to notice his stare, the warmer her cheeks get under his eyes.

Not taking her gaze away from the book, she tries to keep her tone casual and indifferent when she asks, “You gonna look around too, or stay here and play bodyguard?”

“The latter,” he says smoothly, unapologetically. “You’ve got a habit of running into trouble.”

The corner of her mouth tugs up, sliding her gaze from the book to his unfairly handsome face. “Must be the Pogue in me.”

Amusement lights up his blue eyes, lips curling up in that boyish smile. There’s no sign of that disdain and disgust that used to appear on his face at the mere mention of Pogues—the fact that it even existed in the first place should be enough to have Isla running away from Rafe. Maybe it’s because it’s not there anymore that has her interest in him deepening. Maybe he’s just a really good actor and pretending he doesn’t care about the Pogue versus Kook stuff anymore. Then again, how can someone flip a switch that quickly?

Oh, she hates this. She hates that just when she’s giving into him, into these feelings that threaten to take over, something pops up that makes doubt creep through. Kind of like hearing JJ’s voice in her head, one of his many speeches about how Pogue are epic and Kooks suck to all hell, despite the fact that Isla, Kie, and Sarah are from Kook families. 

“You’ve got the soul of a Pogue, though. So it doesn’t count,” is what JJ always says.

The difference between the two types of people is always there. Rafe was someone who believed in it too, just like JJ. Now he’s here, with her, having kissed her, so have the lines blurred for him?

Instead of responding to her statement directly, Rafe clicks his tongue and Isla blinks when his hands cup her cheeks, his chin dipping to look her in the eyes. “Your mind is spinning. It’s making me dizzy,” he says, making Isla’s lips part with a disbelieving scoff at the fact that he could tell so easily. Now, though, her mind spins with the sensation of his skin against hers. “We can talk when we get to the park, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah?” she asks, unsure why she’s a little surprised.

His smile is soft. “Yeah.” He nods towards the shelf. “Get what you want. I’m gonna look around, too.”

Isla nods, trying not to focus on the disappointment she feels when his hands fall away from her and he backs away with a smile, before turning the corner to head to another aisle.

Maybe a conversation would help; they’ve talked about random, getting-to-know-you type stuff over texts, which is almost funny given that they’ve known each other their whole lives. She doesn’t want to insult Rafe again the way she had that day at the country club, but Isla’s curiosity is piqued. She hasn’t asked him yet what’s changed, when his feelings for her changed. She knows first hand that guys can be a little vague and touchy when it comes to talking about their feelings, so she’s going to try to word her questions carefully, but she needs to ask them for the sake of the doubt that annoyingly keeps cropping up.

It seems like the two of them have talked about loads of things, except the subject that really matters. Then again, it’s probably better to talk about those things in person, rather than over text. 

Isla limits herself to just one book, which is a great feat on her part, and wanders down the aisles in search of Rafe. She finds him in the middle of the science fiction aisle, standing tall with his head bent as he reads the inner jacket of the book in his hands. Isla rolls her bottom lip into her mouth, admiring the afternoon sun shining through the front glass walls of the store and bathing Rafe in a near ethereal glow and, God, this isn’t what she needs—a hot guy reading a book in her favorite store. It sounds like the start of a wet dream.

She slowly makes her way over to him, hugging her book to her chest and grip tightening on it when he turns his head to look at her. “Hey,” he greets. “Good to go?”

Isla dips her chin in a nod. “Yeah.”

Rafe closes the book. “Let’s go.”

They walk to the counter and Isla lets out a quiet exclaim of surprise when Rafe plucks the book out of her hand and puts it on the counter with his, already pulling out his credit in one fell swoop. “Uh, wait,” Isla starts through a laugh, widening her eyes at him as the cashier scans the books. “You don’t have to pay for mine.”

He merely shoots her a look, as though he’s saying come on, now, while handing over his credit card without taking his gaze off of Isla. “I know I don’t have to,” he says. “But I’d like to, if it’s all the same to you.”

Isla’s cheeks warm, biting her bottom lip though it does nothing to keep her from smiling. She finds herself unable to look away—until he glances at her with a ghost of a smirk, and she’s cutting her gaze away with the heat in her cheeks intensifying—and totally missing the way the cashier smiles at the two of them.

Rafe carries the paper bag, the cardboard straps hanging from his fingers as they exit the store and continue to talk in the direction of the park. “Thank you,” Isla says, glancing up at him through her sunglasses as they walk. 

His smile is sweet and charming. “Anytime.”

Their hands, hanging at their sides, are inches away, the space in between teasing them to brush together as they make their way down the sidewalk. Isla knows very well how Rafe’s hands feel against her body, her fingers itching to interlock with his, but she keeps the desire at bay as the park comes into view.

With it being the summer and the weather being near perfect, the park is busy with children and families, but Rafe leads her to a spot by a tree that provides a nice amount of shade. “Perfect,” Rafe breathes out as they settle down on the soft grass, the tree trunk thick and wide enough for them both to sit side by side, their backs against it.

The grass tickles against the bare skin of Isla’s legs, exposed thanks to her romper, but it’s a sensation she’s used to. The bark is steady and smooth at her back as she leans against it, her bag resting at her side and legs outstretched in front of her, taking a moment to watch the kids running around chasing each other, their laughter and chatter dancing along the breeze.

Rafe sits beside her, his arm pressing against hers, the warmth from his skin through the light cotton of his shirt seeping into her. For a moment, neither of them say anything, basking in the bluster of their surroundings, until Rafe’s casual tone breaks through their silence. “You think this counts as our second date?”

Isla’s pulse skitters, biting back a smile. She doesn’t look at him, head leaning back against the tree as she answers slowly, “I wouldn’t mind that.” Glancing at him to her right, she sees his slow grin, and Isla’s stomach tumbles with nerves because of the question dancing on her tongue. But instead of overthinking it, she looks up at the green leaves providing them shade and starts, “Can I ask you something?”

Rafe doesn’t seem surprised. He’s expecting her questions, given that he noticed her demeanor at the bookstore. “Shoot,” he says, bringing his right knee up and resting his arm on it.

A breeze blows by, and Isla pauses when the aroma of Rafe’s cologne—and whatever else just makes him, him—reaches her nose. She tries to breathe through it, to keep her mind on track, even if it proves to be a little difficult. Everything about him is distracting. “If we. . . If we do this,” she starts, choosing her words carefully and trying not to stumble over them. Her fingers nervously play with a loose thread at the hem of her romper shorts. “If we keep seeing each other, would it bother you if we kept it lowkey for a while? Just between me and you?” When Rafe turns his head to look at her, Isla doesn’t try to read his expression and instead continues anxiously, “I mean, y’know, unless I’m totally getting ahead of myself and in that case we can totally ignore—”

“Isla,” Rafe cuts her off gently. She presses her lips together, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as she forces herself to meet his gaze, heart thudding a little too harshly. Their arms press together, especially when Rafe leans towards her, and she sees the way his eyes soften as his gaze flickers between hers. “I want to keep seeing you,” he assures, making the breath silently hitch in her throat at the sincerity in his voice, his bright blue eyes. “And I already figured that we’d keep this on the down low, until you’re ready to tell your friends.”

Okay. Wow. Okay. Talking so candidly about them makes her pulse quicken excitedly, her head spin a little, but she pushes on. “And what about you?” she asks, trying not to get distracted by how close he is. “Would you tell your friends about us?” Because that’s what they’re discussing: becoming an us.

Plus, Isla’s not too sure how she feels about Topper and Kelce potentially knowing about her and Rafe, while her own friends are in the dark. Not to mention that she definitely doesn’t trust them to keep their mouths shut and not use this knowledge to taunt her friends, which would only fuck up her telling them about her and Rafe herself. One thing’s for sure, when the time comes, she needs to be the one to tell them. If they find out any other way, the sting of betrayal will be worse than it already will be in general. She’s not ready for that conversation.

Rafe tilts his head at her, the ends of his bangs brushing along his forehead. “I won’t if you don’t want me to,” he tells her.

“Really?” she asks, her eyebrows flicking up. “It wouldn’t bother you, keeping a secret from them?”

He frowns at her, like her question is silly. “I’ll do it for your peace of mind,” he says, and the answer is so simple and casually spoken, yet it knocks the air out of her lungs at the sheer consideration behind them. Almost every conversation they have had so far proves to Isla that there’s more to Rafe Cameron than she ever knew—than he ever showed them. And she wonders, not for the first time, if the asshole, getting-into-fights-with-her-friends Rafe Cameron is just a mask and the one before her is the real one. “It’s no problem, Isla, really.” He sighs, elbow on his knee as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I know you have a lot more to lose than I do, if your friends find out before you think they’re ready to hear about us.”

God, hearing him call them an us does something funny to her heart. Makes it flutter, soar, electrify all at once. She watches him for a moment, the breeze rustling the leaves above them and cooling her warm skin as she admires the sharp line of his jaw, his aristocratic nose, the sweep of his eyelashes—and those lips. Lips she has kissed. Lips whose taste she now knows. Somehow, it all fuels her into asking, “What changed?”

Rafe’s gaze meets her, giving a slight tilt of his head as confusion washes over his handsome features. “What do you mean?”

There’s a certain level of vulnerability that comes with asking the question that dances on the tip of Isla’s tongue. But the conversation has come this far, and Rafe hasn’t made her feel silly or embarrassed for bringing up this topic in general. So Isla allows herself to be a little bit more open, a little more raw as she clarifies, “Between us. What made you change your mind?”

She doesn’t need to be any more specific in that, because she sees the realization dawn on Rafe. He leans back momentarily, a smile touching his lips as his gaze flicks upwards thoughtfully. Isla knows now isn’t the time to admire the sharp line of his jaw, but it’s kind of difficult to look away from, even as her pulse quickens in anticipation of his answer. And the one he gives isn’t what she’s expecting.

“Sarah’s birthday.”

Isla blinks at him a couple of times, eyebrows furrowing together. “Sarah’s birthday?” she repeats slowly, her gaze darting away in thought. “That was, like, three months ago.”

“I know,” Rafe says, looking at her with a small smile.

“We didn’t even—” Isla shakes her head in confusion, trying to make sense of what he said. “I don’t think we even talked that night.”

“We didn’t,” he confirms with a nod as Isla thinks back to Sarah’s birthday. She had had a party at her house, a big one. No different than their regular house parties, but this one included a four tier birthday cake Ward had specially ordered for the birthday girl. Rafe leans his head back against the tree, though it’s tilted towards her, blue eyes locking with her green. “But there was one point where I saw you with Wheezie in her room. The two of you were laying on the floor and coloring, of all things,” he explains with a chuckle that’s both amused and fond. “You looked so relaxed and I don’t know. It wasn’t a bolt of lightning or anything. I just. .  . Looked at you, and something changed. A switch flipped. It was that simple.”

Isla stares at him in disbelief, lips parted slightly as her mind flashes back to that night. She remembered getting a headache at one point during the party, the alcohol and pounding music only making it worse. But she hadn’t wanted to leave her best friend’s party, especially when Sarah hadn’t even cut the cake yet. So Isla had sought refuge somewhere, and somehow ended up upstairs and came across Wheezie. 

The younger girl, as much as she wanted to be involved in her older siblings’ lives, wasn’t too curious about the party. Wheezie had been laying on her stomach on the floor of her bedroom, several of those adult cozy coloring books around her, along with markers. She had taken one look at Isla’s weary expression and invited her to join, and that’s how Isla had ended up, for about forty minutes, coloring with Wheezie while the party raged on in the rest of the house. She hadn’t, at one point, ever noticed Rafe nearby, so his revelation is more than a little shocking.

And for that to be such a significant moment for him without her even realizing it. . . She hadn’t really interacted with Rafe much—if at all—until weeks later when she had run into him that night her car broke down. He never gave any kind of indication that he had any sort of feelings for her that night. Or, well, maybe the fact that he helped her out was enough of a sign, and she just hadn’t connected the dots. Though, to be fair, Isla had no idea there were any dots to connect at the time.

“Wow,” is what she says, lamely, and it makes her cheeks flush when she sees Rafe’s eyebrows flick up in amusement. Isla clears her throat, looking away and at the park ahead, watching some kids run around. “That. . . Was unexpected.”

His smile widens, devastatingly handsome with those dimples, as sunlight peeks through the leaves and branches, bathing his face in strips of bright golden rays. Rafe’s voice is nothing but playful as he says, “Sorry it’s not as dramatic as your romance books.”

Her cheeks heat even more as she gives his arm a shove, pulling a laugh from him. “Shut up,” Isla mumbles, though a short chuckle escapes her, too. “I’m just surprised that’s all it took. After, you know, years of us not even being friends.”

“Life’s real funny that way, I’d say,” he hums. Head still lolling her way, he arches a brow and asks, “What about you? Because I know for a fact it took you longer than it did me.”

Isla hums in affirmation, not seeing any reason to lie. “Honestly?” she starts, pulling both of her legs up and wrapping her arms around them as she turns her head to look at him. “After our date.” Isla rests her cheek on the top of her knees, a smile pulling at her cheeks as their eyes meet once more. “You kind of had me hooked right then and there.” Her smile widens, some of her shyness melting away when Rafe’s gaze softens. “No one has ever gone through that much trouble on a date for me.”

His smile shifts, maybe a little awed, and his hand reaches out to the cup the back of her head. Rafe dips his own head, closer to hers, and says, “It wasn’t any trouble at all, Isla.” She almost sighs at the way he speaks her name, but stops herself. Mostly because she’s dazed by the way his eyes shine bright, looking into hers. “These dates are, uh—” He pauses to release a soft laugh, almost sounding nervous, as Isla watches him. “They’re something I hope can happen often.” 

This time, Isla does let out a breath, the corners of her mouth tipping up. “Me too,” she confesses quietly. Her throat works as she feels his fingers threading through her hair, to do nothing but stay there, and she finds herself asking, “Do you think we’ll be able to? I mean, if we’re keeping this quiet, how do we—”

“We’ll figure it out,” Rafe assures, hinting at a dimple when he smiles slightly. She feels herself relax a bit when she feels his thumb stroke her head.

“Really?” she asks, lifting her head as her forehead creases in worry. “Because between our friends and anyone else who’ll see us and spill it to our friends before we’re ready to tell them, hiding it might. . .” Isla exhales sharply through her nose, allowing herself to be vulnerable once again. “I don’t want you to regret it.”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrow together, pulling back slightly at her words. She’s half afraid that she insulted him—again—but Rafe just shakes his head. He shifts so he’s not up against the tree anymore, sitting to face her with his legs crossed. “Isla,” he starts, his voice low but serious. “I won’t regret anything, as long as we’re together. I don’t care if we have to hide our relationship, no matter how long. I know we’ll make it work.”

Isla gently tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, eyes flickering between his, even as his briefly dips to her mouth. His words do fill her with relief, some of the tension leaving her body. There’s genuine determination in his blue eyes and her throat locks as she realizes that he’s serious about the two of them. The butterflies return to her stomach, and it pushes her to smile a little as she says, “So we’re in a relationship?”

He blinks and she swears pink dusts his cheeks and in that moment, Isla realizes that Rafe Cameron blushing is a sight that will be ingrained in her mind—and a sight she will try to recreate as often as she can. “I, uh—” Rafe stumbles over his words and Isla doesn’t help him out, her smile only growing and eyebrows flicking up in teasing expectation. “That’s not—” He laughs, letting go of her and rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s not how I wanted to, like, ask you.”

Isla shifts, the butterflies in her stomach intensifying so she’s sitting to face him, too, crossing her legs. Excitement shoots through her, warming her from the inside out, as strands of hair brush across her face with the breeze. “Ask me what?” she prompts, tucking the hair behind her ear.

Rafe loosens a breath, tilting his head back and giving Isla a pretty view of the column of his neck. “I was going to take you out a couple of more times before I asked you.”

She laughs, feeling more and more relaxed by the second, despite her fluttering stomach. “Such a gentleman,” she says playfully. “Fine. If you wanna wait, then we can wait.”

Rafe straightens his head, shooting her a bemused look. “Thanks,” he drolls, making her laugh again. It brings a smile to his face, too.

“But do I have to wait for more dates for you to kiss me again?” Isla asks with a tilt of her head and a burst of confidence, even as her cheeks warm. She’s not always as confident as her sister, since her shyness often comes out, but sometimes she’ll have her moments—like right now. Like being bold enough to let him know that she wants him to kiss her again. Because, Goddamn, she’s been thinking of their kiss since Midsummers.

Rafe’s gaze snaps to hers, briefly looking surprised before his lips curl up in a boyish grin. Her stomach dips when his fingers lightly grasp her chin as he leans towards her, her pulse quickening the closer he gets. “Absolutely not,” he says, his voice dropping to a toe curling murmur until the distance between them disappears and his lips finally meet hers.

Her heart sighs the moment he kisses her, Isla’s eyes fluttering shut as she leans into the kiss, Rafe’s fingers sliding from her chin to cup her cheek. His lips are already familiar to her, the kiss languid despite Isla’s racing pulse as Rafe uses his gentle grip on her face to tilt her head the way he wants, deepening the kiss with his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. Isla parts them and Rafe slides his tongue inside her mouth to tease hers. 

Electricity shoots through her veins, her own hands gripping his thighs in hopes of stopping herself from climbing onto his lap. They were in public, after all, with kids around, even as Rafe tugs at her bottom lip with his teeth in a way that makes heat pool in her panties. And they can’t go further than this, right now, and that fucking sucks. “Rafe,” she murmurs against his lips—a plea and apology at the same time.

“I know, baby,” he says, the kiss slowly breaking as he brushes his nose alongside hers. “Just missed you.”

She can’t help but grin, slightly hooded eyes looking at him fondly. “Since Midsummers?”

“Hell yeah,” he says with a rough chuckle. His hand is still on her cheek, his head tilting and only inches between them as his softened eyes gaze at her. “You have no idea how often you’re on my mind.”

Content Warning: Heavy angst, emotional self-loathing, secret affair, explicit sexual content (NSFW, 18+ cut off), power dynamics, emotionally conflicted reader. unrequited love, emotional detachment, psychological themes, toxic coping, self-worth issues, enemies-with-benefits dynamic.

𐙚ᣟ݂

The water shimmered, gold and endless, as the boat rocked lazily near the dock. Not out in the open water, not in motion anymore—they’d dropped anchor early to hang out close to shore, tie it off near the sound. You could’ve walked off the boat if you wanted.

And God, you wanted.

The laughter behind you should’ve been warm. Comforting. It was everything summer was supposed to sound like: John B cracking open a beer, Pope talking too fast about some theory none of you cared about, and Kiara laughing—bright, loud, alive.

But JJ’s laugh cut deeper than the rest.

Because it was only ever for her now.

You sat at the edge of the boat, feet dangling just inches above the water. The surface danced beneath you, glittering like it could carry the pain if you poured it into it long enough.

Your fingers curled tighter around your phone, knuckles white.

Behind you, JJ wrapped his arms around Kiara’s waist like it was second nature. His head dropped to her shoulder, lips brushing skin.

Something inside you cracked. Quietly. Deeply.

You used to be his person. The one he’d call when Luke hit him too hard. The one who’d pick him up drunk from gas stations at 3 a.m. The one who held him when he didn’t want to be touched by anyone else.

But you’d never been his girl.

And now he had one.

Kiara.

You’d been there first. Before her. But JJ had never looked at you the way he looked at her now. He touched her like he couldn’t not. Like she made him forget everything.

You wanted to disappear.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted him to see you.

Instead, you opened your phone and stared at the message again.

Rafe:

You coming or what?

Another buzz followed, like a dare.

I’m not gonna ask again.

The air tightened around your throat. You stared at the water, tried to swallow the lump in your chest, but it was lodged there like a fist. You glanced back once—JJ kissed Kiara’s shoulder and didn’t even notice you were gone.

And that was it.

You stood up.

“Yo—Y/N?” John B’s voice drifted lazily. “Where you goin’?”

“I forgot something at the Chateau.”

“You want a ride?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Back’s like thirty minutes from here…”

But you were already stepping off the boat onto the dock, jaw clenched, hands shaking. No one stopped you. JJ didn’t say your name. Kiara didn’t glance up.

No one followed.

𐙚ᣟ݂

By the time you reached the Cameron estate, your throat was dry, and the sun was dipping below the tree line. The house loomed like a monster behind the gates—too quiet, too clean. A place built by people who didn’t believe in love.

You pushed open the front door without knocking.

The music upstairs was low, bass-heavy, pulsing through the walls like a heartbeat. You didn’t call for him. You didn’t need to.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the ache between your thighs already forming—not from desire. From need. From the ugly, empty space you were trying to fill.

You turned the corner into his bedroom.

Rafe stood shirtless near the window, his back to you. Cigarette between his lips. Tattoo across his ribs. Low sweatpants riding dangerously on his hips. He didn’t turn when he heard the door click shut.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to come.”

“You always come.” He turned his head, blue eyes cutting over his shoulder. His gaze dropped. “Take your clothes off.”

He wasn’t gentle. He never was.

You didn’t say anything. Just peeled off your sweatshirt, slow. Then your shorts. Then your top. You weren’t wearing a bra. You hadn’t needed one.

You stood there in your underwear, arms around yourself, heart hammering in your chest.

He tossed the cigarette out the window and turned, jaw flexing. “Why are you here?”

You knew what he was really asking.

What did he do this time?

You walked toward him, every step a silent scream. Your eyes stung, but no tears came. You didn’t let them.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Rafe’s expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes flared. His tongue swept across his bottom lip.

“You want me to make you forget him again.”

You didn’t answer.

He stepped forward, slow. “You know he doesn’t care about you, right?”

“I said fuck me.”

He grabbed your throat.

Not tight. Just enough. Enough to make you stop thinking. Enough to tilt your head up until your lips brushed his.

“You wanna be used, pretty girl?” His voice dropped, low and dark and sinful. “Or you wanna be broken?”

You didn’t flinch.

You kissed him.

Hard.

Rafe growled, the sound deep in his chest, and shoved you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He pushed you down, climbed over you, eyes never leaving yours.

He kissed like he wanted to punish you. Teeth, tongue, spit, bruising. His hands roamed, possessive and brutal—grabbing your thighs, yanking your underwear down. He didn’t undress himself yet. Just stared.

“Look at you,” he muttered. “So desperate to be touched.”

He ran two fingers between your folds, slow and deep. You gasped.

“Dripping for someone who doesn’t even like you.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned.

“Make me.”

And then he did.

He dropped to his knees and devoured you—tongue slick, relentless, dragging every sound out of you until you were grabbing the sheets, sobbing with your thighs trembling around his head.

When he stood, his mouth was wet with you. He yanked his sweatpants off with one hand, stroking himself, thick and hard and angry.

“You want this cock or just the humiliation that comes with it?”

You reached for him.

He shoved into you hard.

You cried out, back arching. It wasn’t slow. He fucked you like he didn’t care if you broke.

And that was why you came.

Because pain was easier than heartbreak.

He dragged your legs over his shoulders, pounded into you until your vision blurred, until your fingers clawed into his back, until you were begging—but you didn’t even know for what.

He flipped you over, face into the sheets, hand on the back of your neck as he took you from behind, relentless and brutal. Every thrust knocked the breath from your lungs.

“Say my name,” he hissed in your ear.

“R-Rafe—”

“Louder.”

You screamed it.

And he came with a guttural moan, burying himself deep, hips grinding through the aftershock.

You collapsed.

Sweat. Soreness. Shame.

He rolled off of you, chest heaving. Lit another cigarette. Didn’t say a word.

But he watched you.

And for a moment—just one—his hand twitched toward your back. Then stopped.

You turned your face into the pillow. Not because you wanted to sleep.

You sit outside on your patio surrounded by your painting equipment and nature itself. The scene is blissful, the lighting being just about right, the weather relaxed for once and the wildlife unbothered doing their own thing. Whilst the recent storms have been a source of inspiration in their own way, you’re glad that they’ve died down. It was getting rather tiring painting such dull scenes. You usually wouldn’t expect any sort of disturbance whilst painting, but it bugs you when you do. Being so engrossed in painting the finer details on the trees you fail to notice a familiar face creep up behind you. A silent whistle could be heard, causing your attention to be focused onto what was causing it. It was JJ.

“So I see you took my advice then?” Placing your paintbrush down on the pallet you turn around on your stool, facing JJ. He gives you a proud smirk, his hands up in a surrender. “That I did. Wouldn’t want you to mess up your incredible work again.” he rolled his wrists as he spoke, letting an almost teasing emphasis on the word ‘incredible’ roll off of his tongue. The last time JJ snuck up on you whilst you were busy painting you jumped abruptly, causing your paintbrush to flick across the canvas and ruin the painting. It’s certain to say that he probably took your word after you kinda blew up on him for scaring you like that the last time.

“Mhm.” you hummed, leaning back slightly as you observed his mannerisms. “Anyways, what are you doing here?” sitting back up you turn back over to your canvas, picking up a paintbrush whilst you speak to your friend. “Oh, nothing much.. I was just seeing if you wanted to hang out.” the blonde leaned his back against the wooden railing of your patio, casually looking off to the side. Looking back to JJ you can’t help but make a mental note of how he looks right now with the sun gently creeping up onto his face, and the way he was looking off to the side too. You make a mental note to picture the way he is in this moment, it randomly has given you the inspiration to paint his portrait at some point.

“Uh, well I’m kind of busy right now.” you speak as if you aren’t stating the obvious right now, using your hand you shield your eyes from the sunlight. “Oh, seriously? You know, I totally hadn’t noticed!” JJ comments sarcastically, rolling with the fake surprise. You simply shake your head to yourself in response. “What are you even painting anyways?” JJ stands up to walk over to where your set up was. Peering over your shoulder he can see what looks to be a work in progress painting of your back yard. “You’re really good at what you do, y’know?” despite the casual compliment, JJ is truly amazed with what you do. He admired the painting for some longer before he was unintentionally staring at your side profile.

“Thank you JJ.” you responded in a sing-songey tone. If you had a quarter for the amount of times you’ve heard that compliment from somebody you’d be rich by now. Though, despite the common comment you appreciate that people are actually enjoying what you make. By now JJ has caught onto the fact he was staring, more than he had anticipated too. So, to compensate for his initial embarrassment he decides to just joke around.

“Oh Y/N, paint me like one of your kook boys!” JJ leans back on the railing, pulling an exaggerated pose as he quotes the Titanic, just with his own spin on it. You turn around and roll your eyes, these kinds of jokes were a signature JJ thing, you can’t help but crack a slight smile. Before you say something you think of something. Your mind goes back to just a few moments ago where you couldn’t help but admire how good he looked. Obviously not in a romantic gesture, he’s your friend. It was more so of an appreciative way, he gave you the inspiration to create.

Wanting to see his reaction you looked at him with a neutral expression. “Alright then.” you replied with no further elaboration. “Alright then” what?” JJ’s brows furrowed with slight confusion, looking at you for some clarification. You look at him in the eyes, then back to your easel and canvas, then back to him. “Alright then, let me paint you. I don’t see why not, especially when it’s golden hour.” you offered to paint him.

At first JJ was taken aback, unsure if you were joking or not, but given how he’s seen you paint anything you have been remotely inspired by its likely you were being serious. “Wait- are you serious?” he asks. “Uh- do you even know me? Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you question him in almost a sassy manner. JJ cleared his throat as he stood up straight, he clearly wasn’t expecting this. “Yeah- uh yeah go for it.” he nods. “So how do you want me to pose?” he asks you.

“Lean on the railing again but look over to your left, so you’re watching the trees over there.” you directed him with simple instructions to follow. “And maybe fiddle with one of the rings on your left hand?” you suggested in which JJ followed your direction. “You got it boss.” he muttered. Thank goodness the sun hadn’t set yet, this lighting just illuminates all of his features so perfectly. Snapping out of any thoughts you turn to your current canvas, turning the mast to loosen the adjustment for this canvas before removing it from the easel. You placed it on the floor letting it rest on top of the other canvases that are stood upright before grabbing a clear slate. There wasn’t any need to worry about prepping the canvas because you prepare all your canvases before actually getting to work on them.

“Just to be clear, this won’t be finished in just a few hours. At most I’ll probably be able to get the basic structure down and some features but that’s about it." you informed JJ and given from his nod it looked like he understood.

———————————————————————————————————————

It’s been a little over half an hour now and you’re in the middle of blocking in some more details like his clothing, main features and such. As you’re painting you can’t help but admire your muse for many reasons. He’s funny, caring and overall just an incredible person and you’re proud to be his friend. Plus, he’s pretty handsome so that gives you something nice to look at. I mean it’s not like you like him in any other way, right? Friends are just allowed to admire and appreciate them, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

“Hey, how far have you got so far?” JJ speaks up, curious as to what progress you’ve made. “Nowhere near done if that’s what you’re wondering.” you say, your eyes trailing back over to the canvas. With each and every paint stroke you make sure to be patient with yourself, there wasn’t any need to rush this. You make sure to put in the time and care with each painting, it’s your work after all, so you treat it with as much love and respect as you can.

“Anybody would give to have the kind of talent you have, y’know?” JJ commented out of the blue as he watched the boat out on the lake in the distance. “Hell, I wish I was half as talented as you were.” he chuckled slightly as he peered over to you, watching you focus on the project at hand. Hearing those words was enough to make you feel warm, causing you to smile faintly in awe at his sweet gesture. “If I could paint like you the. I would only paint the things I find beautiful.” JJ follows up with his previous words with a hint of a grin on his face.

“Oh yeah?” you turn to look at him, watching him quickly revert back to how he was posing before. “What like?” you ask out of pure curiosity, intrigued by what he views to be beautiful.

“Oh- y’know, things like the ocean, the twinkie” a chuckle broke out from you after hearing that he would paint the twinkie. “-and you” JJ finishes his list, his attempt of acting casual as he says that is quite poor. You had to pause for a brief second to process what he had said. It’s safe to say that you weren’t expecting for him to say something like that at all. You wasn’t quite sure how to take it as, was it just simply a wholesome compliment or was he trying to do something here?

“Oh- um- thanks.” you responded simply, trying not to give much thought into what the compliment could truly mean because you know you’d spiral into a whole trail of overlapping thoughts and theories. Plus, to be quite frank here, you’d rather not overthink about it, only because overthinking can be tiring.

Turning back to your easel you pick up the paint brush and your mixing palette, creating a mixture of a deeper shade of blue to mark down the creases and crinkles in his shirt, wanting to shift your focus onto something that’s distracting for you. “And I don’t mean any bullshit when I say that, just so we’re clear. I really mean it.” JJ cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with you as he speaks.

Turning your head around your face was met with JJ’s again, his eyes drifting over to you and then back over to the lake that resided a couple of feet away from your back yard. He’s not avoiding eye contact out of malice but rather because he’s shy, and perhaps a little nervous. If you looked close enough at the finer details in his face then you could sense the faint blush tickling across his cheeks. There was this strange feeling inside your chest which you couldn’t quite explain, you haven’t felt it before, at least you don’t think, but it wasn’t necessarily an unwelcome feeling. It felt warm and fuzzy, it was like there was a tingle of fondness and endearment inside your heart.