Cant Be Having My Name On This W His Name In It Anymore

Can’t be having my name on this w his name in it anymore 💀

shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew shirtless drew

Someone better be cooking after I actually begged for junior Alba stuff

Drew Starkey

Rafe cameron

Trevor

Junior Alba

Ryan (mine 9)

Drew Starkey and his characters that I'm obsessed with.

Please if you have any Junior Alba or Ryan fanfics do not be shy to show me.

IM NICE I PROMISE...

An addicted tense stare to the point that my dinner went cold I was so caught up reading this 💞💞💞🫵

guilty conscience (+18)

chapter i

pairing: rafe cameron x female!reader

summary: when ward cameron, a renowned business man and millionaire specifically requested your services through an escort agency, you assumed it would be just another job—brief and straightforward. however, your entire world shifted when ward disclosed his true intentions and rafe cameron stumbled into your life. there were rules, and rules were meant to be followed.

was money worth breaking someone’s heart?

When your agency informed you that Ward Cameron was interested in hiring you for the entire summer, you weren’t the least bit fazed. 

A millionaire spending money on escorts? Groundbreaking.

But you were pleased to be the one getting paid.

The prospect of being hired for the entire summer by a millionaire was more than appealing, especially since it meant a steady stream of income without having to worry about searching for new clients.

You hoped that he wouldn't turn out to be a creep, like a few of the clients you had encountered in the past. While most of them were respectful, aware of the rules, and simply seeking companionship, there were always a few who made the experience an absolute nightmare.

But you remained optimistic. Ward Cameron's reputation preceded him as a successful and influential man. Nonetheless, it was wise to keep your guard up.

“Ward Cameron? As in the millionaire?!" Serena's surprise was palpable even through the phone. You called her the moment you got the email, your brain barely functioning.

"Yeah, that's the one," You confirmed, "You think I should take it? It’s just... it's a whole summer commitment. What if he's, like, super weird or something?”

“Do I think you should take it? Do I think—, duh, yes! Worst-case scenario, you bail after a week and come crash at my place.”

Serena's response came through with all the enthusiasm you expected from her. She was always the one to push you out of your comfort zone, in the best possible way.

"Pretty girl, you gotta seize the opportunity!" She continued, her excitement contagious even over the phone. "A millionaire summer gig? That's like winning the lottery, but, you know, better!"

You couldn't help but laugh, "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Serena."

"You know me, always the supportive friend," she a quipped back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You've got a point," you chuckled, shaking your head. "But seriously, what do you think?"

Serena's tone softened. "Honestly, it sounds like a sweet deal. A whole summer with a rich man? Sign me up. I mean, come on," she insisted. "Think of all the fancy parties, luxurious fits, and who knows what else! Plus, hello? Ka-ching!" She added, and you knew she was making a money gesture with her hand even though you couldn’t see her.

You couldn't help but grin at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, the paycheck isn't too shabby either."

"Just be sure to keep your pepper spray handy. You never know with these rich fuckers."

"Got it," you replied, rolling your eyes. "But hey, if he's anything like his reputation, it could be smooth sailing."

"Here's to hoping," Serena said, sounding genuinely hopeful. "Just promise me you'll spill all the juicy details when you get back."

"You know I will," you replied, already picturing the gossip-filled catch-up session you'd have with her at the end of the summer. "Thanks for telling me off the ledge."

"Anytime, babe," she said, her voice warm with affection. "Now go get 'em”.

The evening to meet him eventually arrived, and you found yourself seated at a luxurious table in a fancy restaurant nestled in the heart of Beverly Hills, with soft lighting casting a warm glow over the sophisticated decor. You were clad in a backless gold Dior gown that shimmered under the soft lighting. Your first big splurge years ago.

The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, its sleek silhouette exuding elegance. The plunging neckline revealed a hint of décolletage, adding a touch of allure to the ensemble.

It was a statement piece, designed to turn heads and command attention. You knew what you were doing, how to play the game.

There was no rookie move on your part, ever. You’d chosen it carefully, wanting to make a lasting impression on Ward without overshadowing the refined ambiance of your surroundings.

No matter how many times you did it, how confident you became in your craft, you still felt your heart pounding as you waited for him. He was certainly the most influential man you had ever encountered, and that kind of power freaked you the fuck out.

Moments later, he sauntered into the restaurant, every inch the epitome of sophistication. His suit was impeccably tailored to fit his frame. Each stitch seemed to scream, "I have money to burn." 

Which he did. 

You couldn't help but wonder just how much that suit cost.

Hundreds? Thousands? It was probably more money than you made in a month, maybe even two. Yet, there he was, wearing it like it was no big deal.

As he approached your table, a subtle smile played at the corners of his lips.

"Good evening, Mr. Cameron," you greeted him, rising to your feet with a polite smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"Ward, please," he replied smoothly, extending his hand for a handshake. "The pleasure is all mine. You look even more stunning than your photos."

You accepted his handshake, "Thank you, Ward. Shall we?" You gestured toward our table, and he nodded in agreement.

You found yourself scrutinizing his every move, trying to break down his intentions behind that charming facade.

“So tell me, what drove you into this…industry?”

The way he said it rubbed you the wrong way. His tone seemed condescending, which didn’t surprise you at all. It seemed like there was more behind his question than just casual curiosity. Was he testing you?

It felt as though he was probing, searching for something beyond the surface level. His demeanor carried a hint of arrogance that grated against your nerves. 

And honestly, you had punched men for lesser. 

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you maintained your polite smile.

"Well, Ward, it's a combination of factors, really," You began, choosing your words carefully. "I've always been intrigued by the dynamics of human connection and the opportunity to create meaningful experiences for others."

Bullshit. 

You almost wanted to laugh at how easily the lie came out of your lips.

You did this because it was easy money. After all, men were stupid enough to pay for you to sit next to them at events, they were pawns, a means to an end, always. 

You watched his expression closely, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor. It was as though your response had piqued his interest, just like you planned. But you couldn’t underestimate a man of his caliber, surely, he wasn’t as easy to manipulate as the guy next door. 

Ward nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. 

"Interesting," he mused, his tone neutral. "It's rare to find someone who approaches this line of work with such... philosophical perspective."

You resisted the urge to bristle at his comment, choosing instead to deflect.

"Well, I've always been a romantic at heart," you replied, injecting a hint of playfulness into your tone. "I suppose it's just part of my charm."

Again, bullshit. But he seems more interested in your shiny pink lipgloss than the words coming out of them.

 Men. 

To your relief, Ward chuckles softly, the tension in the air dissipating slightly.

"Indeed," he conceded, a hint of warmth softening his features. "Charm certainly seems to be one of your many qualities."

The dinner went smoothly. You let him show off and order for the both of you, complimenting his choice of wine even though it tasted like absolute shit, and you would have rather drown a beer than drink that ever again. But alas, there was a façade to maintain. 

Ward regaled you with stories of his business ventures, his travels, and his philanthropic endeavors. You listened attentively, nodding and smiling at all the right moments, even if you would rather shoot yourself in the foot than listen to another white savior tale of his. 

“If you don’t mind, Ward, I’d like to discuss our arrangement.”

His eyebrows rose in curiosity as he set down his wine glass, turning his attention fully to you. "Of course, my dear. Straight down to business, I like that.”

Ew. 

You leaned back in your chair, “I’m sure you’ve been informed about the agency’s policy. I’d just like to know what events you’d like me to attend.”

Ward's only stared at you for a moment before he leaned foward, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Ah, yes, the agency's policy. Quite straightforward, isn't it?" He mused, swirling the wine in his glass absently.

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral, though inside, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Indeed.” you replied evenly, your voice betraying none of your inner turmoil.

“I’m afraid this job is going to be a little different from what you’re used to, honey.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. What the hell was that supposed to mean? You had encountered your fair share of peculiar clients in the past, but something about Ward's demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. 

Suppressing the urge to bolt from your seat, you forced a polite smile and nodded, trying to maintain an air of professionalism, “I see. Different in what way?" 

He sighed, running a hand through his greyish hair, “Truth is, I didn’t hire you for myself.”

You blinked, trying to process Ward's words as your mind tried not to jump into the worst possible case scenario. What did he mean he didn't hire you for himself? 

“I don’t understand?”

Ward studied you with a calculating gaze. "I apologize for any confusion," he began, his tone measured. "You see, I didn't hire you to be my companion for the summer."

A cold knot of dread formed in the pit of your stomach. You hated people who can’t just jump straight to the point, circling the subject like a stupid party trick. 

"Then who did you hire me for?" you asked. 

Ward's lips curled into a knowing smile, and for a moment, you felt a surge of panic coursing through you.

"I hired you for my son."

Okay, what the fuck.

You were positive your face probably gave away your exact thoughts, because he was speaking again before you could spit out the words. 

Ward continued, his tone taking on a note of urgency. "You see, my son has been going through a difficult time lately.”

You only hoped you were not about to get roped into spending the entire summer with a man-child.

“Define difficult.”

“Two years ago he recovered from a drug addiction.”

You didn’t want to sound like an insensitive bitch, but drug addiction problems were more than common among the rich kids.

“Okay. And?”

“And he’s better now. He’s great, actually—“

“But?” You interrupted with a tilt of you head, “What’s the catch?”

“Recently, he’s been spending time with a girl, who I do not approve of.”

Roping you into a situation like this felt incredibly manipulative, not to mention unfair to both you and his son. You were not born to put up with other people family drama.

“Why don’t you approve of her?”

Ward snorts, wiping his lips with the napkin, “She’s not good enough for him. Hangs around with the kind of people that ruined his life.”

"And you think hiring me to spend time with your son will somehow fix…this?" you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

“You’re not just spending time with him, honey.”

“Excuse me?”

He brought his hands to his face, rubbing, “I need you to date him.”

He must be out of his fucking mind.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. The absurdity of the situation struck you harder, “Date him?" you repeated between cracks, shaking your head in disbelief. 

The man was clearly going through a mid-life crisis because there was no fucking way he was being serious.

Ward's expression darkened, his brows furrowing in irritation as your laughter filled the restaurant. 

"Is something amusing?" his voice cut through the air like a blade.

You struggled to stifle your laughter, the weight of his serious tone finally sinking in.

"I'm sorry," you managed to say between chuckles, though the amusement still lingered in your voice. "I thought you weren’t serious.”

Ward's jaw clenched, “You think I’d be here if I wasn’t serious?” he snapped, his tone stern. "My time is money.”

"Well, forgive me for finding the situation...unexpected," you reply, exaggeratedly flicking your gaze upward. "But hiring someone to date your son? That's not exactly normal.”

Ward's eyes narrowed slightly, his irritation palpable. "It's necessary," he retorted, his tone sharp. "My son's well-being is at stake here.”

Fucking dramatic. Rich people would never fail to amuse you with their hobbies.

Paying someone to date his son? It sounded like something straight out of a soap opera. But you knew better than to let your mouth get the best of you, especially when there was money on the line.

You held his gaze, unflinching. "And you think that hiring me to date him is the solution?" 

“Yes.”

Ward's answer was curt, leaving no room for further discussion.

Dating his son was definitely not what you had signed up for, but the allure of the paycheck had you second-guessing your morals.

Realistically, Ward's son would probably never like you, you’d date for a few weeks, keep him away from the girl of his dreams, get paid and ta-dah.

"Alright. I'll hear you out, what exactly do you expect from me in this...arrangement?"

"You’ll be staying in the Outer Banks. I’ll pay for your tickets and accommodations. You’ll be paid weekly, extras will be included.” 

“Extras?” 

The word lingered in the air. It sent alarm bells ringing in your mind.

“Listen, your agency’s has a policy, I don’t care if you break it or not, you do whatever you gotta do.” 

You snap, tired of biting your tongue, "I'm not a prostitute."

Ward's brows shot up, his expression momentarily taken aback by your bluntness. "Pardon me?" 

You could feel the weight of his stare, analyzing your every move, every expression. But you refused to back down. You had principles, lines you wouldn't cross, no matter the paycheck.

"I said, I'm not a prostitute," you reiterated, "I don't engage in any activities that cross the line of professional companionship.”

Ward's jaw clenched as he assessed you, as though trying to decipher whether you were bluffing or not.

Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with thinly veiled frustration. "Fine," he relented, his tone icy. "But do remember you're replaceable."

Of course, he would resort to threats when he didn't get his way.

Typical.

"I'm well aware of that," you replied coolly, refusing to let him see any sign of weakness. "But if you want me to do this, it's going to be on my terms. Take it or leave it."

Ward's lips tightened into a thin line, "As you wish," he bit out, his tone dripping with irritation. "But don't expect any special treatment."

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, hiding the satisfaction bubbling inside you. "Wouldn't dream of it."

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Still can’t believe Hawkins likes penis in this

Watching Scream for the Plot

The plot:

all men can kiss my fucking ass.