#as promised heres part two!! to unlock part three yall know what to do - 30+ notes and ill try to get part three up by this evening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

comphersjost · 4 years

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All for You | 2 ➸ Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

hi, its 3 am, and i couldnt stop until i finished this. ik i promised yall another part on thursday so im sorry this is later then i was hoping. i hope you enjoy it :) i took a different approach to brady here than ive normally seen, let me know how you guys like it!!

It’s been 4 and a half months since that day in the basement. With Christmas just days away and Matty on a flight back home, you and Brady take a risk, leaving Matt to wonder where he went wrong.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: this is really angsty yall, like actually, smut, sir kink, brady is Mean, uh moral ambiguity sorta (thinking abt someone else during sex), d/s undertones sorta, unprotected sex (be safe), oral (m on f), some choking, alcohol (wine), sex under the influence, pls ignore any typos fkakldfa

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

masterlist

Even with how utterly fucked the situation was that Matt had found himself in, there was one thing he couldn't stop thinking about. It was the way his logo and his last name and his number rested against your back that drove him insane.

It was burned into his retinas.

Even now, on a plane back home to St. Louis it was all he could think about. Every time he closed his eyes it was you you you.

It had been months since he had seen you. Nearly 5 months had passed since that night in the basement. And it killed him.

He was in a slump. Everyone knew it. He knew it, his teammates knew it, the damn front office knew it. And it was because of you.

His teammates had quickly put together your absence at any sort of gathering and Matty’s sulking. 4 and a half months later he resembles a shell of the man he used to be.

He had called, of course he had. Over and over, hoping, pleading, praying to any deity that existed out there to hear from you again.

Matthew’s prayer was answered one day, when he had come out of practice to find a text from you. His heart rate accelerated, time felt like molasses as his phone camera ID’d his face. As the facial recognition unlocks his phone, the message is revealed.

Please stop calling me. And tell the boys to stop too.

The text tears his heart to shreds. It was the last straw. Before he had been mopey, but now - now he was spiraling. His play was abysmal - a shit show on the ice really. He drank until he blacked out every time, not even looking at another girl.

He had contemplated going to your work, but decided a player in the middle of a slump having a restraining order filed against him would not go over well with the Flames management. Every time he went out for the most mundane task, groceries, dry cleaning, he couldn’t help the hope that he would run into you. Even if you didn’t give him the time of day it would be enough for him to just see you.

He hadn’t seen you since that day. Not for lack of trying, though. Matthew had been to all the spots you used to frequent—the grocery store you love, the clubs you two used to go to, even the 7/11 you had both been to after the both of you got so drunk that you could barely walk. You weren’t on the flight you had booked back together. In fact, he had no idea about anything that’s been going on in your life, his mom just told him that you’re okay and that was all he got.

Now it was 3 days before Christmas and the idea of seeing you again both filled him with dread and also made him feel more alive than he had in months. He was equally utterly terrified and buzzing with excitement. His hands itched to hold you again, though he knew there was a bigger chance of you slapping him than letting him kiss you the way he wanted.

As Matt stares out the window at the clouds, he lets his mind wander. He wonders how you're doing; are you okay? After everything that happened did you pick up right where you left off? He wondered if you missed him, if he was on your mind as much as you were on his.

He still wondered if you loved him back.

“Mom, I really just, I really want to stay home and do nothing tonight okay? I'm tired.”

Your mom rolls her eyes at your attempt at getting out of going over to Tkachuk’s house tonight. You’d been trying since 9 am.

“Honey, I know you said you and Matthew don’t hang out anymore, but he won't be there!” she tried reassuring you, “Brady and Taryn will be there to hang out with you until Taryn goes to spend the night with the Johnson’s.” That made you groan even louder - you had to be alone with Brady. Great, now you had to steel yourself for a night of utter humiliation.

Brady isn't even downstairs yet when you enter the Tkachuk’s threshold, Chantal’s call for her kids brings Taryn down in an instant, ever excited to see you.

“Y/N!” she squeals, running down the stairs, “You're here, you're here!”

“Y/N?” you hear faintly, and then the slam of Brady’s door and rapid footsteps. He nearly slides down the stairs, freezing at the bottom when he spots you. Taryn lets you out of her embrace, leaving you to stare wide-eyed at Brady. Unsure how to navigate your way out of this situation, you keep staring at Brady as your parents and Taryn follow Chantal to the kitchen.

“Hi, B,” you say meekly, unsure of how he’ll receive you after so long.

“Hi, buttercup,” he responds, a bright smile pulling at his lips. It’s all he needs to take a few quick steps in your direction and draw you into his arms.

“I missed you so much, buttercup,” he whispers against your hairline, “More than you know.”

Despite his warm welcome, the night is tense. You still don't know what he thinks of that night, not wanting to ask him in front of your families - well, most of your families anyways. You didn't even let yourself think about what would happen when you saw Matthew at the next dinner party. You sat at the table and ate your food, barely speaking to Taryn and answering Keith and Chantal’s inquiries about your life in Calgary with a tight smile.

You’re so zoned out trying to make time go faster you barely register your parents telling you that they’re going out with Keith and Chantal.

“Mom, wait-”

“Y/N,” she warns, looking at you with that look, and you sigh in resignation. She smiles at you, a silent promise to make it up to you.

Taryn had left 30 minutes ago, announcing that she had somewhere to be before leaving as quickly as she could, uncomfortable with the palpable tension between you and Brady.

You watch your parents leave, wincing for a moment at what awaits you when you turn around. To your surprise, what greets you is a glass of wine hovering in front of your face.

You take the peace offering gingerly from Brady’s hand with a tiny smile. And it’s a really bad idea, the way you let him keep refilling your glass, and his own, let him draw you in during The Grinch on the couch, let him hold you tight under the blanket that was covering the both of you.

You can hear your common sense screaming in the back of your mind when you snuggle closer into Brady’s chest. It’s near 11 now, and your parents are still together, laughing and drinking in the living room of your house before Keith and Chantal are supposed to head to the airport. You're cuddled up to Brady, shifting every few minutes to try and get closer, even though nearly every inch of your body is practically glued to him.

He hums when you shift again, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Gotta go home,” you say, your voice muffled against him. It’s not like you haven't spent the night with him before; you just haven't since that night.

“Probably,” he mumbles, arms tightening around you. “But I don't want you to.” And like, you've had way too much wine and you should probably go before Matty gets here cause you really can't handle that conversation like this so you push off of Brady, standing up but stumbling, wine sloshing over the lip of the glass and splattering on your pants.

“Fuck,” you hiss, the red wine surely staining the gray leggings you wore. Brady takes the glass from you, placing it on the table and stabilizing you with his other hand.

“Go change upstairs,” he says softly, looking up at you with those eyes you're such a sucker for. “Stay.”

And - how can you say no to that? You can't, because it's Brady and you're so damn easy for him it didn't matter what he’d asked you to do, you would do it without a second thought.

That's how you find yourself stumbling to Brady’s bedroom, barely finding your way to his bathroom to change out of your stained leggings and wipe yourself down. You rummage through Brady’s dresser, searching for - there it was. A pair of Brady’s sweatpants from high school that he stopped wearing approximately 2 months after he got them [mostly because he couldn't find them (mostly mostly because they were either in your room or on your body)].

You place the worn sweats on top of Brady’s dresser, fumbling to close the drawer and find your balance. Someone clears their throat and your head snaps towards the doorway. Brady is leaning against the doorframe and through the fuzziness of the wine, you register the thought that he looks so good like this - in his comfort zone.

“Hey,” he says, pushing off the doorframe towards you.

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes too focused on Brady moving towards you.

“We should give it a shot,” Brady husks, hooded eyes trailing down your body and back up again. Suddenly the room feels too cold, the oversized sweater you had on stopped at the top of your thighs, barely covering the pale pink panties you were wearing. The sweater paws gave an air of innocence around you that Brady knew was fake.

“What are you talking about?” you whisper meekly, both concerned about what was going on in that head of his, and intrigued.

“You know how you feel about me,” Brady states - which isn't entirely true anymore, but you don’t interrupt. “I don’t know how I feel about you, and neither of us actually knows if this-” he motions between the two of you “-is it for us, so I say, we give it a shot and see how it feels. Let’s give it until we go back?”

When did he get so close to you? Brady’s taking more steps forward, and you’re taking as many steps back, until the back of your thighs hit the corner of the bed and you instinctively sit.

Which - in retrospect, was probably a mistake, because now Brady towers over you even more than before and now - you’re really intrigued. His fingers trail over your jaw, thumb swiping gently across your bottom lip.

You part your lips out of habit, eyes widen when you realize what you’ve done. Brady laughs darkly when he catches your slip up, stroking your face affectionately.

His thumb slips between your lips for a moment, and your eyes flutter shut as your cheeks hollow around him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, and you do, opening your eyes to stare up at him again; Brady, your best friend. He smiles proudly, murmuring a soft, “Good girl.”

The words are uttered at the same time he withdraws from your warm mouth, wrapping his fingers gently around your throat. You can’t help the whine that escapes, mortified when Brady’s grin widens.

He leans down, mouth next to your ear to whisper, “Matty always did like it when they’re needy. Needy girls drive us crazy.”

Really, the thought of Matt shouldn’t be driving you crazy, but it is. And when you feel Brady’s nose nudge against yours, his mouth just millimeters from you - your biggest fantasy for nearly 20 years - you knew you were going to hell.

A needy moan escapes your throat before Brady’s hand tightens around your throat and you give in, looping your arms around his neck. You pull him down to meet your lips, nearly clawing at him in your desperation.

Faintly, you think that this is a bad idea, this would only hurt you more later on.

But the longer you kissed him, the less you cared about the consequences. You wanted - you needed Brady so fucking bad right now you were willing to deal with whatever the aftermath presented you with. Brady’s other hand finds the bottom of your sweater, slipping underneath the fabric to lay against your rib cage.

You needed more.

“Brady,” you whine as you break away from his lips, tugging at his hoodie. “Need you.” Brady chuckles darkly, tugging you by your throat to kiss him again.

“Ask nicely,” he husks against your mouth.

“Please,” you whimper again, pulling harder at the fabric to just get him closer. “Please, Brady, I need you so bad.”

“Try again.” Brady pushes you - nearly tosses you really - further up the bed with a snarl, ignoring the yelp you let out at the suddenness of his mood shift. You stare up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You're unsure of your next words.

“Please…Daddy?”

A cocky smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Not quite.”

You think for a moment, watching him bring his hand behind his back and pull his shirt over his head. The dark look he gives you makes you shrink, as if to say ‘Still?’.

Suddenly your eyes light up, and Brady can see it. He's already on the bed, crawling up your body as you attempt to control your breath. The words are barely out before he's kissing you again.

“Please sir?”

Brady groans into your mouth when he hears you say the words, slotting himself between your thighs to grind his hips against yours. You mewl into his mouth when his clothed cock catches against your clit, pushing your hips up against him for more. He growls as he pulls away again, swatting your thigh as a warning.

“Careful, princess,” Brady warns - voice low and dangerous - and his grip on your hip so tight you knew there would be bruises in the morning, “or I won't be.” His words are thick with intention, both a threat and a promise.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe shakily, letting yourself fall against the sheets to look up at him.

Brady’s eyes soften for a moment, reaching up to brush your hair out of your eyes. “Hi,” he whispers, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“Hi,” comes your response. He steals another kiss before pulling away again, and you can't help but think that he looks beautiful like this.

I love you. I'm in love with you.

You want to say it, the voice inside you is screaming it. It’s screaming for you to say it, and Brady is looking at you almost like he wants you to too.

The feeling of his hands pushing your sweater up distracts you from your plight. Brady’s movement is slow, and he’s looking at you intensely, giving you time to stop him. You only nod, and the softness is gone as soon as it had come. You lift your arms to help him bring the material over your head. He tosses the sweater to the side, catching your wrists when you reach for him. He guides them back over your head, smirking as you suppress a shudder when he leans in a whispers against your mouth. “Be a good girl and keep your hands there princess.”

You nod quickly, grasping the sheets in anticipation. Another slap to your thigh has you rethinking.

“I’m sorry!” you gasp. “Yes, sir.”

Brady hums in acknowledgment, kissing down your throat until he’s staring up at you from the valley between your breasts. You whine softly when he pulls a nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing the harden peak before soothing it with his tongue. His hand is pinching and pulling at your other nipple, making your noises significantly louder. He alternates, playing with your nipples until they're swollen and sensitive and sore.

He sits back on his heels to look at you, hands on your knees now, sliding up your thighs. His eyes roam your body unabashedly, while his fingers play with the waistband of your panties. There's a burning look in his eyes as he says, “You're gorgeous. You're so fucking beautiful.”

You don't know why hearing him say it makes you tear up. Brady had told you that you were pretty before, that you cleaned up nice, always telling you how hot you were when he'd see you dressed up before events. He was your own personal hype man but he'd never called you beautiful.

Not like this.

Not like Matty.

The thought makes your blood run cold.

“Please,” you mewl, starting to reach for Brady before remembering what he told you. Your hands fly back above your head, twisting in the sheets, whispering, “I’m sorry, sir, I forgot.”

Brady smiles softly, slipping his finger under the waistband of your panties, tugging on it before letting it snap back against your skin. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss softly at your stomach. “Trying so hard to be good for me.” He shuffles himself backwards as he kisses his way down your body, sliding your panties down your legs at the same time until they've fallen to the floor.

“Wait,” you say softly, causing Brady to pause, his expression quizzical. “Please, I need you.”

Brady grins wickedly. “Just a taste princess.”

It turns out, ‘a taste’ actually means Brady edging you with his tongue until you were nearly crying. He's brought you to the brink three times now, each time getting you closer and closer before pulling away. At this point he's holding your hips down and your hands are as tangled in the sheets as you could get them, not wanting the repercussions of disobeying.

Brady’s tongue is sliding through your folds again when you finally break.

“Please!” you sob, tears finally sliding down your cheeks as your back arches from the pleasure. “Please, Brady, please, sir, please please, I- I need - please just - fuck - please.”

Brady hums against your cunt, the vibrations tearing a scream from your throat. Suddenly the warmth of Brady’s mouth is gone, leaving you chasing him with a buck of your hips. He pins you back down again easily, his lips glistening as he smirks. You hate the way the sleazy look on his face does it for you.

It reminds you of Matt.

You whine again, wiggling your hips as much as you could in Brady’s grip. “Please just fuck me,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. You feel his lips press against your hip, smiling against your skin.

“Anything my girl wants, she gets,” he murmurs against your skin.

My girl. The words echo over and over again in your head. My girl my girl my girl.

Two words you've been waiting years to hear come out of his mouth, and the only thing you could think of was how you liked it better when Matty said it.

Your eyes stay shut as Brady kisses up your body, fingertips dancing over your skin. His mouth finds yours, emptying your brain of all other thoughts but him.

“You ready for me, pretty girl?” he asks you, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek gently, wiping your tears away. Your eyes flutter open, to look at him, nodding as you bite your lip. His thumb tugs your lip out from between your teeth as you feel the tip of his dick brush against your thigh. You didn't even realize that he had taken off the rest of his clothes, but you weren't complaining. Not with him so close like this.

“Please,” you whimper, and after stealing another kiss, Brady sinks into your heat.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, gripping the back of your thigh to spread your legs even further. “You're so fucking tight, fuck you feel so good.” Once he’s bottomed out, Brady leans down to kiss you, swallowing your desperate noises.

He gives you little time to adjust, and really - you don't need it considering the way he tortured you with his mouth and fingers. You're whining into his mouth as his hips move against you, the drag off his cock inside you so fucking good after being denied like you were.

You're close already, and Brady knows, delivering sharp thrusts and hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars.

He finally breaks from your lips, breathing heavily as his hips slam into your cunt. “I'm so close,” you tell him, gripping the sheets above your head so hard you feel like you might rip them. “Please, please let me cum, sir, please.”

It seems like Brady finally thinks you've had enough torture, because he brings his hand from your thigh to your clit, rubbing quick tight circles. “You've been so good for me baby,” he grunts, his other hand holding him up so he can look down at you. “Come on baby, you can touch me now, come on princess, cum for me.”

That's all it takes to send you over the edge. Your hands come flying from above your head to grasp at Brady, his shoulders, his back, tangling in his hair, anything to just touch him. You cry out as your orgasm hits, your back arching under Brady as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

You faintly register Brady’s filthy encouragement in your ears, telling you how good you are for doing what he says, for not touching him this whole time, for cumming for him like this. You writhe against him as you feel him spill into you, grunting as he fucks into you, chasing his orgams with shallow, sloppy thrusts. It feels like you've been riding your high forever; your vision is blurry when you finally come down.

Brady’s breath is hot on your neck, his hands stroking your skin gently as the two of you catch your breath. He shushes you gently as you moan when he pulls out of you. Brady practically collapses next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you into his chest. He peppers kisses across your skin, nudging his nose against your cheek to grab your attention.

You can barely turn your head, suddenly so tired you feel like you'll pass out right that second. “Hi,” he murmurs, kissing you gently. You hum and bury your face in his neck.

“‘M sleepy,” you mumble against his skin, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

“Then sleep,” he says, before smirking devilishly, “don't worry there's lots more where that came from, but in the morning.” You snort at his words, squeezing the back of his neck before burying your fingers in his curls.

“Night, B,” you mumble.

“Goodnight, buttercup.”

Matthew was going to kill his brother. He was going to straight up murder him. On top of not being there to pick him up from the airport, he also didn't answer any texts or calls from Matt.

So yeah, when Matthew got home, he was going to kill Brady. When the Uber finally pulls up in front of him, Matthew is nearly halfway done with his plan to get away with it.

He fiddles with his phone as the driver pulls away from the curb, scanning the random notifications that he had popped up when he got off the plane. It's when he opens up Instagram that he really pays attention, the 3 stories in a row at the top of his feed catching his eye.

Taryn’s, yours, and Brady’s. Against his better judgement, he taps Taryn’s magenta-rimmed profile picture. The story takes a moment to load, but when it does, he sees a picture of you in front of the Tkachuk’s Christmas tree. You had your arms out in a ‘ta-da’ fashion, the fingers barely poking out through the sleeves of your sweater. Taryn’s caption reads “didn’t need an angel for the tree cause we already got @y/n/y/l/n”. He can't help but smile fondly, so distracted by how cute you look that he just stares at you until the time is up - but not before pressing on the screen so he could screenshot the photo.

Your first story was a repost of Taryn’s, a simple white heart emoji in the bottom corner. The second was a shot of the TV in the Tkachuk’s living room displaying the Grinch’s title. The caption reads “heart grows two sizes bigger when i’m home :)”. The location is tagged as St. Louis, with Taryn and Brady tagged in the corner of the photo. The third post makes his blood run cold, it's a video of you and Brady, your back against his chest as you lay on the couch, the caption the cross-eyed emoji and Brady’s handle. Brady is facing away from the camera in the beginning of the video, your eyebrows raised as you wait for him to notice. When he does he laughs and reaches for your phone. The video cuts off there.

Matthew taps the left side of his screen to replay it, an unpleasant feeling twisting in his gut. He doesn't want to watch Brady’s story, but he taps the right side of his screen anyways. It's a photo of you on the couch, one knee pulled up to your chest with the other in Brady’s lap, and a glass of wine in your hand. Your hair is piled into a messy bun on top of your head as you wink at the camera and make a peace sign with your free hand, tongue peaking out of the corner of your mouth.

Matt screenshots the picture.

He’s angry; angry because his brother left him stranded at the airport. Angry because he said he hadn't spoken to you either, that you didn't answer any of his texts and calls since that night. He's angry because Brady managed to get you back, and Matt didn't.

Matty’s angry because he loves you, and he's pretty sure you still love Brady.

When the car finally pulls up to the house, he’s almost relieved. He notes that the lights are off downstairs as he lets himself in, pausing when he sees your shoes still by the door. The glow of the TV is visible in the living room, and as Matt pads towards it, the uneasy feeling grows.

There's two partially filled glasses of wine on the coffee table, as well as yours and Brady’s phones. He taps on Brady’s phone, revealing the unread texts and unanswered calls from Matt, as well as an unread text from Chantal, telling Brady that he would have to be the one to pick up Matty from the airport.

The pit in Matt’s stomach only deepens as he climbs the stairs, duffle bag in hand. He goes slowly, trying to prolong his inevitable heartbreak, but it doesn't change what he sees at the top.

Brady’s bedroom door is half open, the light from the hallway streaming in.

Matthew knows it's a bad idea when he takes one, two, three steps and he's in front of Brady’s door. He takes a deep breath and pokes his head inside the room. The sight nearly knocks the wind out of him.

You're tucked under Brady’s arm, your nose squished against his cheek and your hand curled around his neck. He can see the bare skin of your back and stomach pressed against Brady’s bare torso. A blanket covers the both of you from the waist down. Brady’s hair is a mess, and so is yours, and suddenly Matt feels nauseous.

He feels like he would do anything - anything - to make the feeling in his chest go away. It feels like pressure, too much pressure, in his chest, and he nearly clutches his heart. The blood is rushing in his ears, he can't breathe, he feels dizzy.

Why does it hurt so much?

Before he can think it through he’s stumbling to his room. He kicks the door shut behind him, tossing the duffle back on the floor near his bed. His hands are reaching for the backpack on his shoulders and pulling out his laptop before it even hits the ground. He doesn't even sit, placing the laptop on his bed and bending down to type into the search bar.

He barely pays attention to the final amount when he hits “confirm” - he has more money than he knows what to do with anyways. The moment it’s done he sighs, watching the Gmail notification light up on his phone.

“Flight Confirmation, December 23rd, 2020 11:25 pm

St. Louis, Missouri to Calgary, Canada”

#hehe #matthew tkachuk #brady tkachuk #calgary flames #ottawa senators #nhl imagine #hockey #smut #matthew tkachuk imagine #brady tkachuk imagine #angst #all for you series

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country-club · 4 years

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Games #3

#1 / #2

*gif not mine* Warnings: mentions of puke and embarassment Wordcount: 1.959

> Remember Rafe owing you a tour?

Yesterday you hung out with Sarah and her friends. It was fun, though you were left with a headache. Thanks to JJ. The day went by rather quickly and around 8pm you called your friends to play a game of skribbl, an online drawing game. They updated you on what’s going on at home and your ‘ex’. Were you technically dating? You can’t say for sure. But it felt like you did. He quit talking to you a week before you left. In return, you told your friends about your newly made friends and Rafe. Do you like him? It’s too early to say. Is he cute? Yes. Picture? Haven’t got one. How old is he? He looks 18/19. Does he have any cute friends? Well, there’s Topper.

“Oooh, I can be his bottom!” One of your friends cheered.

“I’ll let him know, hon.” You replied.

“Yall I’m beating your asses. Do you want to play or talk about y/n’s boyhunt?” One of the guys asks. You finished the game and continued talking. One of your friends sent you a link over chat.

“Is this him, y/n?” She asks. You clicked it and found Rafe’s Instagram page. It only had a few pictures, the latest being one of him, Topper and another boy, tagged as Kelce.

“Yep, that’s him.” You scrolled through his pictures. Sarah had commented on one of his pictures. You tapped her name and looked through her feed as well. Not much here either. What about the other Pogues? Kiara was the only one you could find. The boys probably didn’t care much about social media. Kiara had some photos of baby turtles on the beach, a few of her looking stunning in every outfit she wore and 2 pictures with the boys. You sent the pictures to your friends.

“Ok, so Kiara is the girl, the boy on her left is John B, the one behind her is Pope and the blonde one is JJ.”

“Y/n, you have been blessed, you know that?”

“Are all the boys in Outer Banks this attractive?” Your friends asked. You nodded.

“Most of them are.”

“So, will you leave any for us?”

“I think John B and Sarah are dating, and Pope looked like he has a thing for Kiara. But I’ll introduce you for sure.”

“What’s JJ short for?”

“Yeah, and why is it John B? How many John’s can there be on an island?” You weren’t sure. You discussed possible names and theories. It was about 11pm when you said goodbye and hung up.

You walked downstairs to stretch your legs, debating whether or not you should go for a walk. Hmm, yes. You grabbed a hoodie, put on some sneakers and out you went. Putting on some music and shuffling through your playlist. The sky was clear, and you could see the moon and stars above you. Your guilty pleasure started playing and you almost bumped into a lamppost, trying not to make dance moves whilst walking. You walked past Sarah’s house and got caught in the headlights of a car on their driveway. You almost had a heart attack. Taking out the earpiece your shyly waved at whoever was inside. They turned the lights off. You saw a tall figure getting out of the car. Rafe.

“Hey, y/n. What are you doing out?”

“Hey, Rafe. What are you doing alone inside your car, on the driveway, at 11:30 at night?”

“I asked you first.” He said playfully.

“Just taking a walk.”

“I was about to head over to Kelce.” Kelce was the guy from his Instagram picture.

“Was?” Rafe laughed. You walked closer to him, so you could actually see his face and stop talking loudly outside.

“Didn’t think I would run into you.” What did he mean by that? Is he not going to go to Kelce because of you or does he-. Your thoughts were interrupted by Rafe’s voice. He must have noticed your confusion. “I believe I promised you a tour.” It took you a second to realize what he was talking about. You had asked him to show you around Outer Banks yesterday.

“Right, you owed me one.” Rafe nodded to his car and opened the door for you. You got in and pulled the door close. Rafe got in behind the wheel. He looked extremely good tonight. His hair wasn’t as slicked back as usual. It made him look softer. It wasn’t hot at all outside, yet he was still wearing shorts. What is it with boys and shorts even though it’s cold?

The two of you drove around Figure 8 for a while and continued on The Cut. Rafe didn’t talk much, so it was up to you. “Do you want to play 20 questions?” Rafe looked over to you.

“Only if we can take turns.” He said. Alright now you just had to think of a question. You still wanted to know what happened two nights ago. Who he had fought and why. It’s too forward.

“What was your favorite dinosaur as a child?” Rafe didn’t have to think about it.

“Triceratops.” He said.

“Still is, am I right?” You didn’t really ask. They are simply the best. Rafe took his time to come up with a question.

“Alright, if you could find out how you were going to die, would you want to know?” Well goodbye dinosaur talk.

“I don’t think I would. No matter how much I hate surprises, I’d rather not be scared of cars or bathrooms for the rest of my life, you know?”

“Why would you be scared of bathrooms?”

“I don’t know I once read that a ton of people have died in bathrooms. It’s where a lot of accidents happen you know.” He looked at you, a bit confused, amused and impressed.

“If you could go back in time to change something, what would it be?” Rafe sighed.

“Not using my dad’s money to buy a bike.” You wanted to ask more questions, but he wouldn’t let you. “I don’t want to talk about that.” Rafe added. He stopped the car. “Can I show the around the boneyard?” This is starting to sound like The Lion King. Elephant graveyard? You opened the car door and got outside, as did Rafe. Rafe locked the car and led you to the beach. There were tree trucks and branches around the beach. It does kind of look like a boneyard.

“What do you think is the ugliest animal in the world?” Rafe asked. Right 20 questions. Truth or dare, without the dare part. You had to think for a minute. What is the ugliest animal?

“Those birds from the Jungle Book. They scream so loud.”

“Vultures?” Yep those, you nodded. You were walking on the boneyard and couldn’t see much. You tried to be careful enough to not trip and make yourself look like a fool. The stars were still very pretty. You could see the Little Bear, it kind of looks like a saucepan. And there you go. Your foot got stuck on a tree branch. However, before you could hit the ground you could feel two arms holding you up. You stood up straight again.

“You alright?” He asked. To which you nodded.

“Yeah, just got distracted for a second. Can we sit down for a minute?” You asked. Rafe dusted away some sand off a trunk and sat down. You sat down next to him. “What is something you wish you were better at?”

Rafe looked up at the night sky. “Making my dad proud.” Why wouldn’t Ward be proud of him? “I just feel like sometimes I can’t do anything right, you know?” You nodded. Was this his soft spot, his dad? You didn’t ask any further questions, seeing as you barely knew him and the subject sounds personal. You looked up again as well. Seeing his face turning your way in the corner of your eye. You could feel his eyes on you. The moonlight was bright enough for him to see your features.

“Is there any memory you would like to erase from your mind?” You couldn’t help but laugh nervously and feel embarrassed already. “What’s so funny?” You looked at him and your eyes met. His blonde hair was getting slightly pushed around by the wind.

“What I’m about to tell you. Promise to keep it between us?” He promised. “Okay, so before moving to Outer Banks I had a boyfriend situation going on. And we were at my place after a party, where he had maybe a drink or two too many.” You sighed, feeling the redness on your face appear. “And we were about to..you know. But he couldn’t, because of the alcohol and then he threw up in my bed.” Rafe tried his best not to burst out in laughter, instead he put an arm around you. “He left after that. So, there I was, cleaning my barf-covered bed and desperately spraying deodorant through my room. We haven’t talked since and I’m not counting on it anymore either.” Rafe started rubbing your back.

“That really sucks man, I’m sorry that happened.” Did he just call you ‘man’? “It wasn’t supposed to be your first time, right?” You must look like a tomato right now.

“I believe it is my turn.” You switched the conversation. “What was your first crush like?” When the word left your mouth you felt like a 12 year old again. Rafe blew out some air.

“I think it was the babysitter we had as kids. She was really sweet and artsy, and stuff. Also really pretty, like you.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I invited her into my pillow fort to eat Cheez-its with me.”

“And?”

“She friendly declined my offer.” You burst out in laughing. “Hey, I didn’t laugh at your story.” He angrily joked, punching your arm.

“Mine was worse.”

“True.”

You softly punched him back. “Hey!” Rafe fake moaned, pretending you had hurt him.

“Aw, I’m sorry. Kiss to make it better?” Rafe pouted and nodded to you. As you were debating whether or not to kiss his arm, your phone started vibrating. It was your stepdad. “Shit.” It was already 12:30. He must’ve realized you weren’t home and you didn’t leave a note.

“What’s up?”

“It’s my stepdad, I really have to go home like right now.” You mumbled as you got up and started heading to the car.

“You gonna get into trouble?” He sounded the tiniest bit worried. Maybe you would. You had been staying out late the past three days and didn’t pick up the phone when your stepdad called. As Rafe pulled up a couple of houses before yours, you thanked him and got out. “I should walk with you, so your dad knows you weren’t out alone.” That somehow makes sense. He got out of the car as well and you speed walked to the front door. You unlocked it and walked inside. As if shot for a horror movie, your stepdad put on the living room lights.

“Y/n? Where have you been and why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Steve, I’m sorry if I made you worry. I was taking a walk and bumped into Rafe, Ward Cameron’s son-“

“I remember who Rafe is. So, he just left you to walk home on your own? Do you know what time-”

This time it was Rafe who cut your stepfather short. He had waited outside and stepped in. “I would never let y/n walk alone, sir.” Your stepdad nodded.

“Bedtime, y/n. Goodnight Rafe.”

“Goodnight.” You gave Rafe a hug, to which he wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

You walked up the stairs and called it a day.

~Taglist~

@emmalvei-blog

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #obx #outerbanks #imagine

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