#outerbanks fluff

but hear me out.. puppy!reader and rafe going on a roadtrip and puppy mistakingly buys aphrodisiac gummies thinking they're just a sweet treat. then she starts getting all squirmy in the car and rafe is like "what the heck is wrong with you " and puppy is SOAKED.. like I'm talking juices down to her ankles soaked, shes ready to hump anything she comes to contact with. and as they're like 5 mins away from home puppy just makes rafe pull over bc she cant wait any longer she needs that DICK.

A SWEET MISTAKE ⋆˚ʚɞ

rafe cameron x puppy!reader

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, power imbalance, public sexual behavior, accidental consumption of aphrodisiacs, intense arousal, degradation, humiliation, manipulation, rough sex, emotional distress, drug use mention.

WORD COUNT: 1,842

the highway’s a blur of asphalt and sunset, rafe’s truck roaring along with some shitty country song he’s got cranked up, the kind that makes you wanna gag. you’re slouched in the passenger seat, bare feet on the dash, toes tapping out of boredom more than rhythm. your sundress is bunched up around your thighs, the warm july air blasting through the open windows, tangling your hair into a mess you don’t bother fixing. you’re restless, buzzing with that needy energy you always have around him, stealing glances at his sharp jawline, the way his biceps flex under his faded t-shirt as he grips the wheel. three days on this road trip—dive bars, greasy burgers, motel rooms where you’ve been climbing all over him, desperate for his attention. rafe cameron’s got you hooked, and you’re not even sorry about it.

you’re chewing on gummy bears you snagged at the last gas station, some “extra special treat” in a shiny bag with curly letters. you’d begged rafe to let you run in while he was pumping gas, flashing him that pout he pretends to hate. he’d been leaning against the truck, all cocky and pissed-off charm, his sunglasses pushed up as he tossed you a crumpled ten. “don’t take all damn day,” he’d barked, but you saw the way his eyes lingered on your ass as you skipped off. now you’re popping gummies one after another, the taste sharp and weirdly intense, but you’re too busy chirping at him to care. “rafe, this music’s straight-up torture. can we play something that doesn’t make me wanna jump out the window?”

he snorts, his hand sliding to your thigh, fingers digging in hard enough to make you squirm. “talk that shit, and i’ll tie you to the roof rack,” he says, his voice low, that dangerous drawl that’s half-threat, half-promise. rafe’s like that—king of the kooks, all swagger and menace, the kind of guy who’d start a brawl over a spilled drink then laugh about it later. he’s got that rich-boy edge, the kind that comes from growing up untouchable, but there’s something darker underneath, something raw and broken from ward’s constant bullshit. with you, he’s possessive as hell, always one step away from losing it, but you love the way he makes you feel—like you’re his whole world, even if he’s gotta make you beg for it.

then it hits. a hot, heavy wave rolls through you, starting in your gut and spreading like wildfire. your skin’s too tight, your dress scratching like it’s made of thorns. you shift, frowning, trying to shake it off, but there’s this ache, this throbbing, desperate need between your legs that’s got your heart racing. you press your thighs together, but it’s no use—you’re soaked, your panties sticking to you, slickness dripping down your thighs, pooling on the seat, all the way to your ankles. it’s insane, like your body’s turned against you, and you’re starting to freak out. “rafe,” you mumble, voice shaky, “something’s wrong. i feel… weird.”

he glances over, his blue eyes narrowing, that familiar scowl creasing his face. “the fuck you mean, ‘weird’?” he snaps, already annoyed, like you’re some kid who’s spilled juice on his couch. “you’re bouncin’ around like a damn pogue on a bender. what’s your deal?” he’s got that rafe edge—short fuse, always ready to bite, especially when he’s been snorting lines or dealing with his dad’s crap, though you haven’t seen him high this trip. still, you’re squirming, and he’s not having it.

you whimper, tugging at your dress, the fabric clinging to your skin like it’s mocking you. “i don’t know,” you say, voice small, almost crying. “i ate those gummies, and now i’m…” you can’t finish, too embarrassed, but the way you’re shifting, your legs pressed tight, says enough. you shove the gummy bag at him, hands shaking. he snatches it, squinting at the label in the dying light, and his face twists—first disbelief, then a sharp, barking laugh that makes you flinch.

“you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he says, tossing the bag to the back like it’s trash. “aphrodisiac gummies? you didn’t read the damn label, did you? jesus, you’re so fuckin’ clueless sometimes.” his voice is mean, cutting, that classic rafe cruelty that stings like a slap, but there’s a glint in his eyes, like he’s getting off on your desperation. he’s always been like this—loves having you at his mercy, loves watching you squirm under his control. “what, you thought ‘extra special treat’ meant sugar and rainbows?”

tears spill over, your cheeks burning with shame. “i didn’t know!” you wail, voice breaking as you cover your face, but your body’s betraying you, the ache so intense you’re practically grinding against the seat. you’re dripping, a slick, humiliating mess, and all you can think about is rafe—his hands, his mouth, the way he’d feel if you could just get him inside you. “rafe, please,” you say, grabbing his arm, nails digging in. “i can’t wait, i need you now.”

he swerves the truck, muttering a string of curses, his jaw tight like he’s ready to lose it. “you’re a goddamn disaster,” he says, but his voice is thicker now, and you can see the way his jeans are straining, the way his knuckles whiten on the wheel. rafe’s a mess of contradictions—pissed off and turned on, mean as hell but hooked on you, the only one who gets under his skin like this. “we’re five minutes from home, you can’t hold it together?” he’s practically yelling, but you’re too far gone, your hands fumbling at his belt, desperate to get him free.

“pull over,” you beg, sobbing now, your voice raw and pathetic. “rafe, i can’t, i need you, please, please.” you’re climbing over the console, your dress hiked up, not giving a damn how wrecked you look, slickness running down your legs like you’re falling apart. you need him, need him to make this stop, to take control like he always does.

he lets out a low, pissed-off groan, but he’s already scanning the road, his jaw so tight it looks like it might crack. “fuckin’ fine,” he mutters, jerking the wheel to pull into a deserted rest stop, gravel crunching under the tires as the truck skids to a stop. you don’t wait, scrambling into his lap, your hands frantic as you tug at his belt, his zipper, anything to get to him. you’re whining, tears and snot mixing on your face, but you’re too desperate to care, your body screaming for relief.

“slow the fuck down,” he snaps, grabbing your wrists hard enough to bruise, but you’re past reason, grinding against his thigh, the friction making you moan even though it’s not enough. “you’re actin’ like a damn whore,” he says, his voice dripping with that rafe venom, the kind he uses when he’s spiraling, when he’s one bad day away from punching a wall. but his hands are on you, yanking your dress down to bare your chest, his fingers rough as they pinch and twist, making you gasp. “all this ‘cause you couldn’t keep your hands off some sketchy-ass gummies? you’re gonna pay for this.”

“i’m sorry,” you choke out, but it’s barely coherent, your hips rocking against him as you try to get closer, to make the ache stop. he’s hard—you can feel it through his jeans—and it’s driving you insane, your hands clawing at him, needing more. “i didn’t mean to, rafe, i swear, just—please, i need you.”

he laughs, low and cruel, but his eyes are dark, burning with something that’s not just anger. he shoves your panties aside, his fingers finding how soaked you are, and he lets out a rough, “fuck, you’re a mess.” it’s not a compliment—it’s rafe, mocking you, loving how pathetic you look. his fingers slide inside, hard and fast, and you cry out, your body arching into his touch. “what, you think you can just climb all over me ‘cause you’re horny as shit? you’re gonna learn some fuckin’ restraint.”

you nod, tears streaming down your face, but you’re too lost in the feeling, your body shaking as the pleasure hits you hard. “yes, rafe, please,” you babble, not even sure what you’re saying, just needing him to keep going, to take over. he’s not gentle, his fingers curling inside you, his other hand yanking your hair back to make you look at him. “such a needy little slut,” he growls, but there’s a smirk now, like he’s in his element, king of the kooks owning you completely. “you’re lucky i don’t leave you like this, beggin’ on the side of the road.”

you’re sobbing his name, grinding against his hand, when he pulls his fingers out, and you whine, loud and desperate. “no, please, don’t stop,” you beg, but he’s already undoing his jeans, freeing himself, and you’re too needy to wait. you sink down onto him, taking him in one rough thrust that makes you scream, the stretch and fullness overwhelming. he groans, his hands bruising on your hips as he sets a brutal pace, the truck rocking with the force of it. “fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters, his voice raw, his eyes locked on where you’re joined. “all this ‘cause you fucked up. you’re gonna be more careful, yeah?”

you nod, tears streaming, too overwhelmed to speak, your body shaking as you ride him, the pleasure crashing over you like a storm. he’s rafe—mean, controlling, the kind of guy who’d burn the world down for you but make you cry for it first, and you’re addicted to it, to the way he makes you feel like you’re everything and nothing all at once. when you come, it’s like the world splits open, your vision blurring as you sob his name, collapsing against his chest.

he’s not far behind, his grip tightening as he finishes with a low, “fuck,” his breath hot against your neck. for a moment, you just stay there, panting, your body still trembling, his hands still possessive on your hips. he pulls back, his usual razor-sharp edge dulled just a bit as he looks at you, all flushed and wrecked. “you’re a fuckin’ disaster,” he says, but there’s a grin, that rare rafe smile that’s half-cocky, half-something softer. he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, rough but careful. “gonna clean this damn seat when we get home, you hear me? my truck’s not a goddamn swamp.”

he shifts you off his lap, gentle for once, pulling you against his side. you curl up there, head on his shoulder, still shaky but warm, safe in his orbit. “let’s get you home,” he says, quieter now, starting the truck, his hand settling on your thigh, heavy and grounding. “gonna get you cleaned up, let you crash. no more grabbin’ shit without me checkin’ first, got it?” you nod, exhausted but content, your body pressed against his as the truck rolls down the road, the ache finally fading, his presence all you need to feel whole.

decorating for halloween with bf!rafe

cautions .ᐟ nothing but fluff, suggestive if you squint!

you and rafe had been planning to decorate for halloween all week, though “planning” mostly meant you showing him pinterest boards full of cozy orange lights and little ceramic pumpkins, and him pretending not to care while secretly bookmarking everything in his head.

it was saturday afternoon, sun already dipping low, and the cameron house smelled like cinnamon candles and the caramel popcorn you’d made earlier. rafe was half sprawled on the couch when you came into the room carrying a plastic tub full of tangled string lights.

“you said you’d help,” you reminded him, setting the tub down with a thud that made him lift his head lazily, one arm thrown over the back of the couch. “i am helping,” he said, smirking, “supervising counts.”

you rolled your eyes, kneeling to untangle the mess of orange and purple lights, muttering something about how he’s impossible. rafe didn’t answer, just watched, eyes tracing the curve of your back where your oversized sweatshirt slipped off one shoulder.

“you know,” he said finally, voice low and lazy, “you look real cute when you’re bossy.”

“i’m not bossy,” you said without looking up. “i just like things done properly.”

“that’s literally the definition of bossy.” he was grinning now, and you could hear it in his voice. you tried to ignore him, but then he got up, came to kneel behind you. you felt the warmth of his body before you saw him, his hand brushing your hip as he reached for the lights.

“these go on the mantel, right?” he asked, pretending to be helpful but really just trying to get close. you shot him a look over your shoulder. “don’t think i don’t see what you’re doing.”

“what am i doing?” he asked innocently, though his fingers were tracing little circles against your side. “you’re distracting me.”

“you’re already distracted, sweetheart.”

you tried to bite back a smile and failed. “fine. if you really wanna help, put the fake cobwebs up.” rafe groaned dramatically. “those things get everywhere.”

“so does glitter,” you pointed out, handing him the bag. “but i still used it for the pumpkins, didn’t i?”

“yeah, and i’m still finding it on my clothes,” he said, but he took the cobwebs anyway, stretching them between the corners of the mantel while you plugged in the lights. they flickered to life, soft and orange, throwing a warm glow across the room. you both stood back to look at it. it wasn’t perfect, the lights were a little uneven, one of the fake spiders had fallen onto the floor, but it felt like home. cozy and messy and full of tiny bits of care. “looks good,” rafe said, wrapping an arm around your waist. “could almost pass for one of your pinterest boards.”

you laughed. “that’s because i’m a professional.”

“oh yeah?” he murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed the edge of your ear. “and what’s my role in all this, then?”

“moral support,” you teased. “and heavy lifting.”

rafe chuckled and nuzzled your neck. “think i deserve more credit than that.”

“you’ll get credit when you stop eating the candy meant for the trick-or-treaters.”

“they don’t need all of it.”

“rafe-” but you were laughing too hard to finish. he kissed your shoulder, then the side of your neck, the kind of lazy affection that always made your knees go soft. “what?” he murmured when you turned to face him, trying to look stern. “we’re supposed to be decorating.”

“we are,” he said, smiling. “decorating you right now with my attention.”

you groaned. “that’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“and yet,” he murmured, tugging you closer, “you’re still smiling.” he kissed you then, soft and unhurried, the lights flickering behind you. when you finally pulled away, breathless and laughing, rafe brushed his thumb over your cheek. “see? halloween’s fun when you let me help.”

“you helped for like five minutes,” you said, swatting at him.

“best five minutes of the day.”

you shook your head but couldn’t stop smiling. later, when you were curled up together on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between you and a bad horror movie playing, rafe leaned close again. “you know,” he said quietly, “next year, we should carve pumpkins too.”

“you mean i should carve pumpkins while you drink cider and make fun of me?”

“maybe.” he grinned in response. you laughed, resting your head on his shoulder, lights glowing softly around the room.

rafe cameron and reader are at a party and she starts acting bratty and telling him to go away and shoving him off and then he leans down and whispers in her ear to tell her to meet him in the bathroom for a spanking as punishment but she tells him no and that they should just do jt at home and then he smirks and leans down again saying that if they do it at home he'll make it 10x rougher, then he leaves, giving reader no choice as he watches her from afar with a smirk as she nervously chips on her nail and bouncing her leg. also can u write the smut punishment (edging)

⌞ BRAT ⌝

જ⁀➴ pairing | rafe cameron x fem!reader

જ⁀➴ word count | 2.4k

જ⁀➴ warnings | MDNI — raw sex (wrap it up y’all), rafe edges the fuck out of reader, crying due to edging, p in v, oral (f rec), creampie 🫣, uhhh, dirty talk, little bit of after care.

જ⁀➴ synopsis | at a party on figure 8, you begin testing rafe’s patience with your attitude. he’s not the type to let shit slide, and you’re in for a long night.

જ⁀➴ notes | HOT HOT HOT woah now i ate with this i think… thanks for the request anon! sorry it took so long i hope this makes up for it tho 💌

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

hell yeah girl

“this shit is so borin’!” kie groans from a chair in the chateau as we’re on our third round of would you rather. “can we like do somethin’ else, anything else.” john b says as sarah snuggles up more next to him on the couch. “let’s do truth or dare!” you pipe in from where you are on the floor fiddling with the hem of your shirt “hell no” pope says, throwing his head back. “hell yeah” jj says, agreeing with you as the smirk on his face never leave as he sticks his tongue in his cheeks.

sarah squeals “i love truth or dare! i bags going first!” she says as the rest of the pope groan “seriously no”, sarah ignores his protest, sending a glare his way “uhhh… john b, truth or dare.” she says she smiles at the brunette boy who’s lap she’s sitting in, john b smiles back “truth” he says. “your so borin’ dude.” jj says from besides you as he snickers, you shove him playfully, “shut up or your gonna be next.” you say “where’s the weirdest place y’all had sex” kie pipes in and pope blocks his ears, “kie that wasn’t even your questions” you say with a slight giggle ”gotta make it fun at least!”, john b goes red as sarah gulps “who bets its rafes bedroom” jj says sarcastically from next to you as you laugh pulling out a five dollar bill, not actually thinking it was gonna be, watching as there faces go redder, “what the fuck!” pope says as he groans, “yeah next person please” he says as he points at john b. “fuck!” you say as jj holds his hand out as you reluctantly slam the 5 dollar bill in his hands “thanks gorgeous”.

john b smiles sheepishly as he scratches the back of his neck before looking around then smirking at jj “truth or dare jj?” he says. you whistle “told ‘ya” you say as he playfully shoves you “do ‘ya even gotta ask? dare” he says as he leans back into his arms as a smirk spreads across his face, “i dare you to go skinny dippin’ right now with y/n”. jjs smirk widens and yours drops “fuck nah, this ain’t even my dare!” you say as jj just snickers “can’t say no to a dare sunshine” he says as he pulls you up “your such a perv you just wanna see me naked” you say as you cross your arms “is it that obvious?” he teases as he pokes your side as you crack a smile but not before slapping his arm as you walk out to the dock reluctantly.

the last peices of clothing is ripped off, not soaring a glance at jj cause you know he’s lookin at you before you dive off the dock and into the water as jj tries to push down his bonet before doing the same. as you come up from the water, running your hands through your hair you feel a pair of strong arms lift you up into the air, your upper body being exposed to the cold breeze as you scream “jj!” you say as you laugh as he places you back down into the water with a big smirk on his face “what?” he says as he makes out your tits through the water, he feels a harsh slap to his chest as he groans “can’t appreciate this beautiful girl right ‘ere?” he says as he squeezes them in the water as he grins “jj! is this fuck in the water or skinny dippin’!” you say as you grasp onto his wrists as you give him a stern look as he lets go “the first one” he says as he pulls you closer to him, “your gross” you say with a smile as you look up at him, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight, “‘ya love it dork” he says as his lips trail down your neck, leaving wet salty kisses as you lean your head back, giving more access as he smirks against your skin “thought i was gross?” he says as he picks you up through the water by your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist. “shut up your gettin’ lucky” you say, butting at the excess skin on your lip as you try to suppress a moan “yes ma’am” he says as he smashes your lips against each other. you moan as you trail your fingers through his wet hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue rough and warm as it massages yours, he cups your ass as your bare chests press against each other as you can feel his hard dick pulsing from where you are on his waist as you smirk into the kiss before releasing, your lips slightly swollen as your about to say something “times up love birds!!” john b yells out from the dock as he watches you guys as he shakes his head before walking back inside. you hop off him as you smirk “might wanna fix that” you say as your fingers trail over his biceps before swimming away as climbing up the ladder, water droplets dripping from your hair down to your ass as you leave him there, hard and mesmerised.

and as you walk back into the chateau jj rushes to the bathroom and you swear you can hear moaning and your name? huh weird

cw: mentions of pain, weed, medication / requested. (im mad af bc i had to rewrite this like 5 times ugh fuck tumblr)

The best thing about JJ is how he loves you through it all. On the days you feel like you're not yourself, or when the pain is unbearable, he loves you more than ever. He’s loves you through every good day and every bad one.

On your bad days, JJ doesn’t hesitate to help you with even the most basic tasks. Whether it's feeding you or assisting with a shower, he never makes you feel weak or helpless. He does it out of love, not obligation. When you can’t get out of bed or the couch, he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re well taken care of.

On days when you’re feeling better, JJ lights up. He’s genuinely excited to see you doing well and tries to make the most of every moment. Whether it’s taking a walk to the beach or cooking together, he savors those moments when you’re almost normal, when you’re not burdened by pain. He’ll often remind you how proud he is of you, even when you’re just doing simple things.

On the days when the pain overwhelms you, JJ doesn’t try to distract you or minimize what you’re feeling. Instead, he lets you cry, lets you express everything you need to without judgment. He’ll hold you, let you lean on him, and just be there.

JJ has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing exactly what you need in the moment, whether it's painkillers or something more natural like your medical weed. He’s always prepared, always anticipating, and if you need it, he’s there to help you with whatever you need, whether it’s reminding you to take a break or helping you with a hot compress.

Sunshine!reader is good friends with Kie (the two of them met at Kildare Academy when Kie's parents forced her to go there for a year)

Sunshine!reader stayed in touch with Kie even after she left and now they go to clean the beach together every Thursday!

Sunshine!reader loves the beach, its her favourite place to be, she loves surfing, swimming, tanning (lowkey pretending to be a mermaid with Kie but ssshhhhhh don't tell anyone)

Sunshine!reader who always has a pair of Adidas Gazelle's on her feet, she's a sucker for colourful things.

Sunshine!reader has an record player she got from her grandma, and she plays all of her dad's old records all the time, her house is never quiet unless her step dad is home.

Sunshine!reader has a vintage yellow bike, with cute white ribbons tied to the handles, and a small brown woven basket attached to the front, where she stores the seashells she's found at the beach when she cycles down to the shore.

Sunshine!reader who is no stranger to the Pogues as Kie is telling her about the gangs adventures all the time, and the brown haired girl invites her to join them all the time, but she's too busy with things at home.

Sunshine!reader's dad was a Pogue, but after he opened a florist in Figure 8, his business expanded and now she lives in a huge house, with a pool in the back yard, a small white picket fence, and her orange cat Cheeto (she was 6 when she named him and her parents tried to change it to Milo but Cheeto seemed to stick).

Sunshine!reader's never really fit in with with any of the kook's in her school, as they don't really see her as a 'real kook', but she could care less because they're all stuck up anyways.

Sunshine!reader who has a grudge against Rafe because he called her a 'prude' in front of everyone at a party when she refused to get with him (she threw her drink at him after he said it and they've been on bad terms ever since then).

'I want you to know that I'm never leaving' - Sia, Snowman | angst-fluff | jj x fem!reader | keep track of the obx christmas countdown here!

You stir in the night cocooned in blankets. Groaning, you blink yourself awake and squint at the bedside table's alarm clock. The glaring digital letters read three a.m. With another grunt, you roll over and kick off some of the covers. As your eyes slip shut, your body moves to snuggle into JJ’s like a reflex. You always slept on the left of the small double and him on the right. More times than not, you’d end up with all the covers and him with none, but considering he ran like a boiler engine, it didn’t much bother him. But when your hand reaches out to splay on his warm bareback, you frown and open your eyes at the feel of soft cotton sheets. Weird. 

You shove the rest of the sheets off you with a huff. Kildare was warm enough during the days of December so long as you had a hoodie to hand, but at night, when the sun went to sleep, it cooled off. As you step across the creaking floorboards, you grab JJ’s hooded flannel and tug it on as an extra layer. The old house warns of your coming: aching doors and whining floors. It’s dark as you venture through the halls until there’s a cosy golden glow from the living room. One of the lamps is on. You poke your head into the room to find JJ staring out the window into the thick of the night. 

“Hey,” you broach quietly. He doesn’t jump. He must have heard you coming. 

“Hey,” he replies, just as quiet, not bothering to turn. You make your way over and take a seat by his side on the coach. The sleepiness still lingers in your bones so you rest your head against his arm. 

“How come you’re awake?” you wonder through a yawn. 

“Jus’ thinkin’,” he murmurs. Something about the way he says it tells you it isn’t entirely peaceful thoughts. It feels too early to pry and too late to question. You know JJ as well as any Christmas carol; he’ll tell you when he’s ready. “I hate Christmas, y’know?”

“Does one of the J’s in your name stand for Scrooge?” you try to joke. He chuckles silently, his body shaking softly against your cheek. The skin of his arm smells like shea butter soap and sandalwood. “I didn’t know you hated Christmas.”

“Not as much anymore. Just when I was a kid. Reminded me of all the stuff I didn’t have. I don’t know…Guess it made me angry,” JJ drawls. “I mean, you know that I didn’t have all that much growing up. Dad was never around and never made much effort. It just sort’a ended up being another day. Except…”

“Except it wasn’t?” you offer when his voice trails off. He hums. You nod. 

It’s hard to pass Christmas off as any other day when everything around you is screaming about how it’s so wonderful. The songs, the adverts, the windows, the houses, the movies, the people…All of it. It’s like insisting that you’re not hot whilst staring directly into the sun. 

“And I would just count down the days until it was January again and everyone would just shut the fuck up about it, y’know?”

You hum. He sighs and you glance up to see him hang his head. His blonde hair is shaggy from sleep and dangles in front of his eyes. Sitting up, you reach out a hand and comb it back for him. JJ’s eyes are heavy with tiredness when he looks at you. 

“We don’t gotta do anything for Christmas,” you tell him. Nodding your head towards the hall, at the other bedrooms, you add, “the others can do whatever they want but we can just do our own thing.”

JJ shakes his head, smiling smally. “You love Christmas.”

“Meh. I love lots of things,” you shrug with a smile and roll of your eyes. It was true, you did love Christmas, but you loved JJ far, far more. If celebrating was going to remind him of bitter days then you were more than happy to sit it out together. But JJ shakes his head again. 

“We don’t gotta skip it,” he tells you. Your brows tug together. He still sounds deflated, losing his usual glow like a crack in the most stunning tree bauble you’ve ever seen. It must be easy to read on your face, the concerned curiosity. Shaking his head, he looks back out the window. He rakes his hands through his hair. “It’s stupid.”

“Maybe. Tell me anyway.”

Laughing quietly, he takes a breath and closes his eyes. “I…I’m scared to celebrate Christmas with you.”

You frown and try your best not to be offended. “Oh?”

“I just…God, how do I fuckin’ use words…" JJ sighs again, aggravated, and rubs at his forehead. Then, he looks down at you. The anxiety in his eyes makes you want to cry. “Christmas didn’t mean anything to me until you showed up. And now that we’re finally a...we...Well, I guess I’m scared to actual enjoy Christmas cause what if it goes back to being just another day?"

You try to follow his words like footprints in snow. Nodding slowly, you think aloud. “So you’re saying, what if you let yourself enjoy it, and then we don’t make it, and you have memories about Christmas that are actually happy?”

Laughing, he smiles, shaking his head, a little disbelieving. “You can always read my Goddamn mind.” But the smile slips away into sadness. Tears rush to his waterline and your heart cracks. You’ve never heard his voice so feeble, so raw, when he admits, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your joy at cracking the riddle is short lived. Sitting up onto your knees, you reach for JJ’s hand and take it in yours. You squeeze, hard. “You're not going to lose me. I’m never leaving, a’right? Ever.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes, likely willing the tears away. “You don’t know that. Everybody leaves eventually."

“Hey,” you say, firmly, forcing his eyes open into yours. Nodding, sincerely, you affirm, “I mean it. I’m never leaving. You’re my home, JJ. All seasons round - not just Christmas.” 

The moment wraps around you like a blizzard. Your smile is shaky, eyes damp, voice thick as you confide in him. “You’re all I have too, JJ. The only thing that matters to me. The only thing that I truly, deeply, love.”

JJ exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a lifetime. His forehead gently bumps yours as he dips it. “What’d I do to get you?”

Smiling, you lift a hand to cup his jaw. On your thumb that rests on his cheek you feel a teardrop. You wipe it away. Nobody else saw this side of JJ. The quiet, tender, vulnerable side. The times that the child that hid inside of him, safe from his father’s reprimanding hand, crawled out into the glow of moonlight. You’d never let that privilege be forgotten. Pressing a kiss against his lips, short and sweet like peppermint candy, you shrug. 

Like now, my eyelids felt as if they were attached to a dumbbell tied to an anchor.

Rafe noticed it before I said anything. He always did. His hand curled into mine, but I couldn't find the strength to reciprocate, so he tugged at my limp wrist, draping it across his lap.

“We're almost there,” he said, the words floating over my head at the softness of his tone.

Did he always speak like that or only when I'm drowsy?

I blinked, long, hard. I tried to shake off the numbness of my limbs, but I had only managed to reposition my head from the headrest to the cool pane of glass.

It didn't take much to get me to sleep after that, just the steady hum of the car, the gentle bounce of the gravelly road, and the cool breeze from the vents.

I don’t know when we arrived, but I was lucid enough to feel the shift, the warmth of leather traded for the firm, steady hold of Rafe’s arms.

God, I loved his arms.

I nestled closer, cheek pressed against his chest, his shirt soft and warm under my face. His heartbeat was steady, that was how I knew it was Rafe, even before I could open my eyes.

He didn’t mind carrying me; he never did. Each step was measured, careful. Like I was made of something that could break.

“Got you,” he murmured, almost to himself.

And even through the haze, I smiled, because he always did.

---

Rafe kept you close, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his own. Your head nestled under his chin, hair brushing against the collar of his shirt, and even in the dim light of the garage, he could see the faint line of your lashes resting on your cheeks.

He hated that you were so tired. Summer was supposed to be yours too, full of long drives and stupid dares and late-night laughs. Instead, here you were, half-asleep and leaning on him like you always did when life decided you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Barry’s voice cut through the quiet, rough and practiced, holding that edge Rafe knew was part charm, part intimidation. “Rafe, you know I’m good for it. You want the shipment, I’ve got it. Easy.”

Rafe didn’t take his eyes off you. Your hand twitched where it lay across his lap. The faint warmth of your fingers made the tension in his shoulders ease just a little.

“I know,” he said, voice low, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah… yeah, I know.” His eyes flicked to Barry for half a second before returning to you.

You stirred slightly, shifting closer without opening your eyes, and he let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh. That small movement of yours, the trust, the dependency, it anchored him more than any contract or shipment ever could.

Barry leaned in, trying again. “Come on, Rafe. Don’t play hardball with me. You know it’ll work out.”

Rafe tilted his head down at you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Mhm… probably,” he murmured, distracted. He caught Barry’s raised eyebrow, shrugged without looking up, and went back to tracing patterns along your shoulder.

“What was that?” Barry pressed, voice a little sharper this time.

Rafe just shrugged again, glancing down at you with a small grin, your head tucked perfectly against his chest. “Nothing… just… keeping an eye on things,” he said lightly, tone casual, like the most important thing in the world was the soft rise and fall of your breathing.

“You just relax,” he whispered to you, resting his chin gently atop your head. “I’ve got this.”