leonalovesalot

[leonalovesalot]

i neeeeeed part three of that rafe fic u write so well 💔

Helloooooo thank you for the compliment!! I was gonna just end it at the second part because I feel like their story is complete lol!! Bur if there’s anything specific you’d like to see next lemme know!!

[leonalovesalot]

Just gotta show you that I’m the one II

RafeCameron x Reader

In which you kiss Rafe during a game of spin the bottle, and he can’t seem to leave you alone after.

wc: ~7.2k

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Friday evening, 5:47 PM

L/N Residence

Emotional Status: Manic, in theory. Well functioning, in practice.

You were getting ready for a special occasion. Well, this may just be the special occasion because you never perceived a world in which you'd be doing this. Like, seriously. Not even in an alternate universe where Rafe didn't grow up taking kids' lunch money and stuffing them in lockers. Okay, you don't know about the second part, but you were almost certain about the first. Almost.

How Rafe had managed to wear you down so quickly with his infuriating (appealing) gifts and his shameless (smooth) tongue was beyond you. But nonetheless, here you were, staring at your closet with a scrutinizing gaze, wondering what to wear.

See, if you got all dolled up and actually tried, Rafe would see it as a good sign— that his tactics worked. And the stubborn part of you didn’t want him to feel that satisfaction because your affection, and attention, can't be bought.

What a pickle.

Oh! To add onto the list of never-ending stressors that appeared within a week because of Mr. Cameron— you didn't know where you were going. You'd quickly agreed to going out so he'd leave you alone, but didn't get to question him about what the date would even entail. What if he was taking you to some underground BDSM club where he'd pull a Christian Grey and introduce you to his freaky side? And before you know it, you're signing some contract and entering his Red Room. Or maybe he'd just take you to the middle of nowhere and murder you. Can never be too sure with men.

Or maybe, I'll have a good time. Maybe he'll surprise me.

Knowing Rafe and his loose purse strings, he wouldn't have any issue taking you to a fancy restaurant which would require you to dress to the nines. However, there was also a possibility he'd try to woo you by putting on some show and planning a picnic or something. Packing food and blankets, and setting it up near the lake like a sweet man from the country side.

None of your assumptions would get you anywhere so you decided to ask the source.

Jeans and a t-shirt it is.

You grabbed a pair that was a little tight, but were the only ones without a tear in the place where the sun doesn’t shine. And… a simple black tee. To make it look like you’d put in just the right amount of effort, you pulled out your black leather jacket. Was it summertime? Yes. But were you delusional enough to believe the night would get colder? Also yes.

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“Wow— you… you look— not bad.” Rafe saves himself at the last second, and throws you a teasing chuckle.

You tilt your head with a sarcastic smile, “and you. I almost didn’t recognize you without shorts on.”

To be honest, he looked great. Black button up with black jeans made his eyes pop. It was his colour, but you couldn’t tell him that! You couldn’t admit that it was hard to make eye contact with him because of how nervous he was making you.

He laughs, genuinely, which had you caught off guard as happiness was a rare look on him. He was always fucking brooding. You didn’t even know he was capable of the humour and the laughter and the, honestly, tasteful gifts. How had you not caught wind of any of this before? Did he not do this for people often?

“Well, I am trying to impress you. And I thought ditching the shorts was a start.” He states bluntly while staring at you closely.

Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You looked so effortlessly beautiful. He never thought of jeans and a t-shirt as anything appealing, but on you? Absolutely breathtaking. He took note of your hairdo too. You’d pinned a few of your front strands to the side— the strands that usually framed your face. But it was so so pretty. He could see you fully and he wished he could just pull out his phone and take a photo. Not in a creepy way! But in a I-never-want-to-forget-you-like-this way.

You chuckled awkwardly at his comment and looked down so he wouldn’t notice the blush creep up on your cheeks. “Good call.” Clearing your throat, you gather the strength to meet his gaze. “So where are we going? Can you tell me now?”

He stares off into a space and contemplates for a moment before sighing and nodding. “I was thinking—because it’s so hot these days— we could cool down with some ice-skating.” He was the one avoiding your gaze now. “They have a couples skate thing at the Polar Rink— thought it’d be fun. And- and then I thought we’d go watch the sunset by the lake near my place. Then… then we could stargaze.”

Your eyes softened and looked at him in awe. Before today, you’d never understood the expression “heart melted”, and now you were swimming in it.

He was shy?

He was nervous?

He was so sweet.

Rafe noticed the lack of response and hesitantly lifted his head to look at you. Fortunately, his worries fizzled when he saw you standing there with a soft smile.

“Let’s go then.”

He agrees and turns around to walk off your porch as you shut the door behind you. Rafe reaches his truck in your driveway and opens the passenger seat door for you.

His change in behaviour gave you whiplash— one second he was cocky, and the next he was a gentleman. But you were only hanging out with him—or, going out with him— so you wouldn’t have to see him again. For tonight, you could put up with a little inconsistency.

After thanking him, you buckle yourself in and Rafe comes around to sit behind the steering wheel.

He starts up the car and the engine comes alive. Before pulling out, he connects his phone to the aux— which had you a little annoyed. For some reason—due to his chivalrous façade— you expected him to let you choose the music. And the mere fact that he connected his phone had you shaking your head, internally.

However, you realized you had jumped to conclusions when he played a song you knew all too well.

“You like The Strokes?” The words leave your mouth like they couldn’t wait to be said.

He chuckles and begins reversing out of the driveway. Turning his head to check the rear of the car, he responds, “no. But you do.”

A deeper blush spreads across your cheeks, and you look out the window so he wouldn’t be able to see.

The drive was short and peaceful. You loved going on drives with your friends and, now, Rafe. Usually, It was rare for you to be in the passenger’s seat as you were somehow always the designated driver. So this felt new—but, good. Like you didn’t have to be the alert and responsible one right now. You could just be. And that realization had the permanent crease between your brows vanishing.

“You okay?” He glances to you and then back on the road. “You’re too quiet— not trying to jump out of the car or anything.”

You giggled— yeah, giggled. You were in a good mood.

“I’m soaking in this rare occurrence.” You turn to him and continue, “I’m always the driver. So this is pretty sweet.”

He nods in acknowledgement and asks, “yeah? You don’t like driving?”

Shrugging, you respond, “I don’t hate it, but I guess I just prefer to be driven. It’s like—uhm— like one less thing to worry about.”

You notice the corner of his mouth curl into a smirk and you braced yourself for some cheesy line.

“We’re meant for each other then. I love being behind the wheel.” He glances at you to see your reaction and laughs when you scrunch your nose in faux disgust.

He turns back to the road and takes a left.

“Is there a specific reason you love it? Or…” you think out loud.

After a moment, Rafe answers. “I guess I like being in control. Sitting in the passenger seat makes me feel like— I don’t know— like it’s out of my hands. You know?”

You noted that he wasn’t very good with words which, at that moment— maybe because your favourite song was playing— you found quite endearing. It was probably too soon to tell, but it seemed like you two complimented each other well.

You were good at communicating and expressing your feelings. Sure, vulnerability was difficult and you often isolated yourself before speaking about what bothered you. But, in the end, your point of view was always clear and concise.

Meanwhile, Rafe was all over the place. His emotions were never clean-cut— always overlapping, and often steering him. He didn’t have the time, or patience, to pinpoint what he felt.

But you were patient, and you were kind. You would never make him feel like a burden.

Both of you knew that was the case. It was like an unspoken understanding.

“Really? I think I’m the opposite— the responsibility scares me. Like being in charge of people’s safety.” You respond and look at him even though he was staring ahead.

“But isn’t it worse to have your safety in someone else’s hands? Like what if they make a mistake?” His eyes meet yours for a few seconds and he feels his heartbeat speed up. Which was weird because you weren’t even discussing anything worth being flustered over.

“I think…” you pause for a moment and figure out how to word your opinion. “I’m more forgiving when others make mistakes. So if someone hurts me… I would forgive them easily. But if it was the other way around… I couldn’t live with myself.”

He pulls into the parking lot and stops the car in the nearest stall. Turning to you with a curious look, he asks, “Are we still talking about driving?”

“I… I don’t know.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at your confused expression.

“Shall we?”

You nod and he quickly walks around to the passenger seat to open the door for you. Feeling like a little shit, you open the door for yourself and Rafe gasps, offended.

“What’d you do that for?”

You shrug and hop off his truck. He closes the door behind you.

“I’m perfectly capable of opening a door, Mr. Cameron.”

The two of you begin your walk off the parking lot, and towards the ice rink.

“I know that. But I still wanted to do it for yo— Mr. Cameron?” He quirks a brow at you. The pouty expression, now, a smirk.

You smile like you were up to something. Some would see that as your poor attempt at flirting— maybe you were enjoying this one-time date a little too much.

When did that happen?

“What? You don’t like it?” You ask and nudge him a little with your elbow. This was the first time you’d touched him— well, besides when you made out with him.

“I don’t not like it.” He matches your energy, but tries to ignore the feeling in his stomach that arose when you touched him. He hadn’t felt that way since Mady Foster lended him a pencil crayon, in kindergarten.

Is that what love is? Does it make you feel like a child again?

He holds the door open for you and you walk inside the arena, immediately feeling the cold air embrace you. Compared to the thirty degree weather outside that had you sweating through your makeup, this chilly air was absolute bliss.

Since it was a couples skate night, Rafe thought that the two of you should act like a couple. He didn’t voice this brilliant idea to you beforehand, which is probably why you flinched when he placed his hand on your lower back.

However, Rafe doesn’t frighten easily so despite your shock, he doesn’t move his hand. Instead, he quickly guides you over to the rentals booth in an attempt to distract you from the whole thing.

The two of you get your rentals and walk over to the nearest bench to put on the skates. Rafe quickly tied his skates up, slipping the laces around the eyelets at speeds you'd never seen. Meanwhile, you were going back and forth from the bench and the rentals booth, never feeling satisfied with the size. Rafe just stood there, now almost a foot taller, and watched you in amusement. Finally, you settled on a pair of figure skates that did squeeze your toes but, hey, at least they looked cute.

Slowly, you looped the laces through the eyelets, but out of frustration that they weren’t tight enough, you kept starting over. Rafe sighed and walked over, unable to watch you struggle any longer.

"Do you need a hand, or is this like the door opening thing again?" He stands in front of you, making you tilt your head all the way up to look at him like he was Gulliver.

"It's like the door opening thing, but I could use your speed." You smile shyly.

He chuckles at your inability to ask for help and then kneels before you. His hands reach out and bring your foot up to his thigh to rest, so he can tie the laces properly. The whole thing had you sweating like you were outside in the sun again. You noticed the blade of your skate was digging into his upper thigh, but he didn't seem to mind at all. A little bit of pain was worth all this— pretending like you were his.

He quickly tied the laces, tight and secured, and then patted the sides of your calves to signal that you were ready. The patting made you snap out of the trance you were in, internally cursing at yourself for getting all aroused over a fairly small thing.

You clear your throat and thank him under your breath.

On your way to standing up, you gripped the bench tightly, afraid you'd fall over.

Rafe was already walking towards the ice rink when he realized you weren't following him. With furrowed brows, he turned around only to see you hunched over, using the benches for support as you moved warily.

His laugh cut through your intense focus, and had your head snapping up to see him.

"Did you forget how to walk?" His laughter begins to dwindle as he walks towards you with his arms out for you to grab.

You stand up straight on your own, but end up clinging to him in a flash— hands wrapped around his forearms.

"No. But I forgot how to skate." You say through gritted teeth.

Rafe chuckles and responds, "how can you forget how to skate? It's like riding a bike."

"Well, if forgetting is the same as never learning, then that's where I stand."

His brows jump in surprise. "You don't know how? Then why'd you let me bring you here?"

"You never told me you were bringing me here! I just found out like twenty minutes ago and by then, I thought it was too last minute to say anything!" You snapped and whisper-yelled until you were red in the face.

Expecting Rafe to snap back at you with anger, you mentally prepared yourself for an early end to the date, and a painfully silent car ride home. However, Rafe's expression was as calm as ever, which had you wondering if he really had changed. Sure, it had been years since high school, but this complete one eighty was hard to wrap your head around.

"You still could've told me. I had a bunch of back-up options up my sleeve." He spoke with the gentlest voice, in contrast to your high-pitched one.

With a huff, you reply, "I didn’t know if you were the kind of person who gets upset when their plans get derailed."

Rafe tilted his head and spoke softly again. "I can be. But not tonight— not with you."

Your eyes meet his, finally. His words sent a tingle up your spine.

Not with you.

You.

Me?

"Come on." Rafe takes your left hand in his, then steps to your side, slipping his right arm around your waist. He holds you close like a harness—and in that moment, you trust him completely. "I'll hold you," he says softly. "We’ll skate together."

Every word you knew had vanished from your vocabulary, so you just nodded.

Rafe walks you off the rubbery floor and steps onto the ice first. He quickly turns to face you, taking both your hands to help you onto the rink.

Your right foot touches the ice and immediately wobbles beneath you. Your upper body tilts back, and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact—but it never comes. When you finally open your eyes, you find Rafe holding you by the waist, firmly. He’d stuck to his word.

You let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks."

He nods, and you could tell he was holding back a laugh.

Out of frustration, you whine, "I think I'll just have to stay here. The ice hates me."

Rafe stops holding in his laughter. He shakes his head, "okay, close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just close your eyes." He repeats.

So you do. Shutting them tight, making sure no light peaked through.

Although you couldn't see anything, you did feel yourself being lifted off the floor. Eyes fluttering open in a instant, you realized that Rafe was picking you up and placing you on the ice with his bare hands. You yelped and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hanging on for dear life.

He carefully brought you down and onto the ice, but your arms stayed around him. You stood there for almost a minute, that’s what it felt like anyway.

“Y/N?” Rafe’s voice was muffled by your neck.

“Hm?”

“You can let go now.” He laughs softly.

You opened your eyes again and slowly let go of him. His palms were still on your waist keeping you from slipping over.

You brought your hands to his shoulders and felt like they were being glued down because you couldn’t bring yourself to stand on your own.

“Okay, first of all, you need to bend your knees. That’ll keep you from falling over.”

You nod and do as he says. Surprisingly, he was right and you were impressed that he immediately solved your problem. It made you feel fuzzy inside because it made you feel like he was taking care of you. There really was no way to say that without wanting to scream from embarrassment, but it felt… really good.

To put things into perspective, you were quite the independent woman. Your parents raised you to be that way and sometimes, you think, you took it a little too far. In relationships, you’re so focused on keeping yourself from depending on others even the slightest, that it almost comes off like you don’t need the other person. Maybe it’s to keep yourself from being a burden— which is how you saw it at times. You always felt that no one would want to care for you, so you do it for yourself. A similar thing occurred in your last relationship. You didn’t want to overwhelm Nathan, your ex, and so you kept him at a distance. So much so that he went ahead and slept with other people. Nothing justified cheating, but that relationship made you wonder if you really were the problem.

“Y/N? You okay?” Rafe’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Wha- huh? Oh, yeah.”

“Alright, knees are bent. You think we can start moving now?” His tone was sweet— it didn’t make you feel rushed.

“Okay— okay. Just… don’t let go yet, okay? I’m also gonna keep clinging and- and if you get annoyed— well, you can’t because this is your fault.” You felt pathetic, but also saw the humour of the situation.

Rafe laughed again. You’d memorized that sound by now, which was funny because before all of this, you didn’t even know what he looked like with a smile.

“I have unlimited patience for you, my love.” He professes dramatically.

Unfortunately, those godawful words made you blush like crazy. And that’s not what tonight was about, so you took a deep breath and dropped your hands from his shoulders.

Rafe knew exactly what you were doing, but he couldn’t imagine a world where the two of you weren’t physically close. And desperate times called for desperate measures. So with his hands on your waist, he began skating backwards—pulling you with him—without warning.

You yelped, your hands flying to his shoulders—fingers digging in so hard he could already picture the crescent-shaped red dents on his pale skin. Which Rafe liked, because the marks were proof that tonight was real and not just a wonderful, wonderful dream.

He smirked at your frightened expression and continued dragging you down the rink.

A string of “Are you insane?” and “Oh my God!” and “Rafe, I’m going to kill you!” followed your little joyride of fear across the ice. Rafe just stared at you in amusement, finding your threats more endearing than intimidating.

When you finally reached the other end, he took pity and brought the both of you to a halt.

You let out a strangled breath and muttered, “That was… blasphemy.”

He snickered, lifting a hand to your cheek and caressing it with his thumb. Your anger melted in an instant, and you were reminded—yet again—that physical touch was your love language. Oh, it was definitely at the top of the list.

Looking into his eyes properly for the first time that night, you almost got lost in them. That, and the soft stroke of his thumb on your cheek, was making you dizzy.

“You did so well though,” he murmured, leaning in so you could hear him clearly over the love songs echoing through the arena. “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t like that.”

His words replayed in your mind, and you weren’t sure if you had a dirty mind, or if he just spoke in constant innuendos—but your brain immediately flashed to an image so vulgar, you were the one guilty of the blasphemous act.

“It was fine.” You grumbled.

Rafe couldn't help himself and leaned forward to press a quick peck to your forehead. It was so fast, you didn’t even have time to register it—and when you finally did, he was already hauling you back around the ice rink, ignoring the shouts of protest erupting from your mouth. He pretended to sing along to the slow jams playing, and before you knew it, the two of you were back on the rubber floor.

Rafe had decided you’d had enough ice-skating for one night. As much as he could watch you struggle forever and hold onto him for eternity, he wanted you to enjoy yourself—and right now, your hair looked like it was turning grey from fear.

"Here you are," Rafe places a plastic tray of an assortment of roller rink food in front of you.

He'd sent you off to sit down at a bench near the concession stand, since you complained about your sore feet, while he bought you two some cheap sustenance. If it were up to him, he'd take you to some private rooftop with a personal chef who would cook anything you could name, but he had a feeling if you found out how much it costs, you'd jump off the building.

You looked at the two hotdogs, poutine to share, and two cups of pop, and your stomach growled.

"Thanks," you reach for the wooden fork and stab a fry, "see? We're making memories on a budget. Has this made you see the world differently?" You pop a fry into your mouth.

Rafe lets out a short laugh and shakes his head. "No."

Rolling your eyes, you take another bite. "So, is this— me— living up to your expectations?"

He furrows his brows and takes a bite of his hotdog. "What do you mean?"

"You know... you were so excited when I agreed to this, finally. I'm just wondering if you still feel the same... or if you've realized this wasn't what you thought it would be." You stare at the tray, and take another bite, scared of what his answer could be.

Rafe puts his hotdog down and tilts his head in confusion at you. "I'm having a good time." He leans forward and uses his hand to push back the sleeve of your jacket so it wouldn't touch the poutine. "And also, tonight is about you. So the real question is: am I living up to your expectations?"

You felt yourself heat up at his thoughtful action. He did it so casually, without thinking, you kept staring at your wrist still feeling the ghost of his fingers.

Clearing your throat, you respond, "you should be proud to learn that you're exceeding them."

A genuine smile crosses his face and he almost giggles. "Yeah?"

You nod slowly and take a sip of your pink crush. "Yeah, congratulations."

"I'm surprised. I honestly thought I'd fucked up when I found out you didn't know how to skate."

"Well, it was my fault that I didn't tell you." You admit your shortcoming.

He disagreed right away and then added, "next time, don't hesitate to let me know."

You quirk a brow and playfully smirk at him, "next time, huh? You're awfully confident."

"You're the one who said I exceeded your expectations. That sounds to me like you're dying to see me again." Rafe kisses his teeth and leans back in the booth.

"I don't know..." You trail off and speak in a singsong manner.

"Oh, come on. What's it gonna take, hm? All I've done is kiss you — really well, might I add— showered you in gifts, and now, taken you on a date which, so far, you're enjoying." He grabs your fork and takes a bite of the poutine.

You looked up at him with a more serious look. "Well, I told you I didn't like gifts."

He sighs, and props his chin on his palm with his elbow resting on the table. "Why?" He asks, exhausted.

"Rafe," you shake your head and then decide to continue, "okay, look." You lean in too, ready to launch into a monologue. "It's like... okay, it's like a pool."

"A pool?"

"Yes, like we're both in two separate pools. Swimming pools. And you keep pouring your water into my pool because— well, I don't know why. But you do it. And so I'm here in my pool and it's getting more and more full and you're happy and I'm... good too. Then, one day you look around and wonder hey, how did I end up in a kiddie pool? Like the water level is so low, you're like dry— completely dry—"

Rafe's eyes followed your every hand gesture, your lips, your words. He was absolutely enamoured in that moment.

"— and then you look over at me, and my super full pool. It has you thinking that you gave me so much and I didn't return it, so now you want it all back. But me? I've gotten comfortable with my overflowing pool, and I can't fathom a life without it. But I have to give you back your water. And now I’m in my shitty pool by myself for the rest of eternity.”

You took a deep breath when you finished your rant. It was quite a surprise, too, that Rafe didn’t interrupt you once— no he listened closely to the whole thing. Hesitantly, you look up to meet his gaze— afraid that he would be judging you harshly. But to your relief, he just picked up his hotdog again, and took a bite.

“Gets pretty busy in that head of yours, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You reach for another sip and continue, “but you get what I mean right?”

He takes a moment to think. “I guess so. But you have to realize that if the other person—me— wants to do these things for you, the pool getting shallower means nothing. And besides, in my case, the pool isn’t just some ordinary pool— it’s never not full. So take a deep breath and relax.”

You swallowed your bite and leaned back in your chair. “Maybe the pool analogy wasn’t the right one.”

Rafe snickers and speaks up after a few seconds. “So what do you like then? What makes you think oh, he’s the one?”

Your eyes narrow at his question.

“Asking for a friend, of course.” Rafe adds.

You rest your arm on the table and stare at the skate rentals behind him, trying to come up with an answer.

“Uhm…” you gaze at him again. “I don’t really know how to say this without being inarticulate.”

He shrugs, “inarticulate is my middle name. Go on.”

A soft laugh slips through your lips and you nod. “I think if they remain curious about me. No matter how well we know each other— if they still find me interesting enough to always ask for more… I- I’d l… I’d be happy.”

Rafe was taken aback by your answer. He didn’t expect it— he thought you’d say something along the lines of loyalty or honesty. But you managed to surprise him yet again. Oh, how he wanted to kiss you so badly.

He takes a sip of his drink and leans forward again. “Curious? Like… like they ask you lots of questions?”

“Yeah… yeah, but not just for the sake of asking questions. Like they want to know more. Sincerely.” You avert your gaze again. “I think I’ve just been with, or around, people who don’t really give a shit about me.” You chuckle to ease the tight feeling rising in your throat. “And I’m always the one carrying conversations and asking others about themselves so when… uhm someone does the same for me, it means a lot. And you’d be surprised at how rare it is. People can be so self-centred.”

God, for someone who says they don’t talk much about themselves, I’m sure not acting like it.

"I get that." He reflects on your words momentarily. "So who are these people who don't care about you?"

You take a deep breath and purse your lips. "Well, from off the top of my head I'd say Nathan." You clear your throat and add, "my boyfriend—sorry— ex-boyfriend."

Rafe's ears perk up. "yeah? What'd he do?" He tries to sound casual and take a bite of the poutine, but anyone could hear the emotion buried in his words.

"What men have been doing since, like, the Stone Age probably." You adjust in your seat. "Cheated."

Rafe's eyes widen. He couldn't believe anyone would want to cheat on you. You. You were beautiful inside and out. And he never said that about anyone.

To put it simply, Rafe didn't like people. So the way he acted with you was truly a rare sight.

"What a bitch." Rafe exclaims. "Does he live around here? Do I know him?"

You laugh and feel warmth creep its way into you. When things ended between you and Nathan, you took the high road. You didn't yell at him, didn't argue, didn't key his car. No, you just stopped talking to him and blocked his number. You didn't even badmouth him to your friends because, well, what was the point? It wouldn't make him un-cheat.

But this? Rafe calling him a bitch was like music to your ears. It's what Nathan deserved.

"No and no." You tilt your head. "Why though? You gonna beat him up for me?" Another poor attempt at flirting on your end.

Rafe nods, "I could if you wanted me to. Just say the word."

You blush and shyly smile at him. "I'll keep that in mind."

He pipes up again, "also, you said cheating is what men have been doing for a long time— I just wanna clear my name." He pretends to straighten his tie. "I've never done that."

Crossing your arms, you reply incredulously, "really? I don't know if I believe you."

He gasps, faking offence. "No it's true! Swear on... I don't know, but I swear." He then adds a little embarrassed, "but... because I want our epic Shakespearean romance to begin with honesty—"

You giggle.

"— I've never really been in a proper relationship. But my casual flings have never had any overlap."

"Wow, what a man you are."

"I know right."

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"Sorry, where are we going again?" You turned to him as he drove through an empty intersection.

The two of you wrapped up your evening at the ice rink and moved to the second event of the night.

Stargazing.

It was supposed to be watching the sunset, but your chit-chat at the rink ran a little long, and when you left the arena, it was dark out. Rafe was visibly bummed and you felt a little guilty for talking his ear off and wasting time. However, he read your mind and proceeded to reassure you that it wasn't your fault at all. But, of course, you didn't believe him and to cheer him up, you held his hand on the walk back to the car.

He wasn't bummed anymore. And to revel in the moment, he walked as slow as humanly possible, and even pretended to forget where he had parked. You saw right through the act, but didn't mind the feeling of your hand in his.

"The lake behind my house. Or we can just cut to the chase and go to my house?" Rafe says in a teasing manner.

"You're gonna introduce me to your parents on the first date? Are you insane?" You joke.

Rafe was stunned at how quickly you intercepted the shameless line he was setting you up for. Stunned and disappointed. He was obviously going to hint that the night should conclude in his bedroom. And then he'd turn and watch you blush for him. Maybe next time.

So he just shakes his head sheepishly, and turns up the radio.

The car came to a halt on top of some grass, and you looked around at the beautiful scenery. It was like something out of a dream. Sure, it was dark— but the moon shone on the lake water and reflected back up to you two. It casted a dim light on your face, along with Rafe's. A beautiful glow, that you wished you could see every time you closed your eyes.

You let Rafe open the door for you this time. And you even let him hold your hand on the small walk down to the water. The walk was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. You both listened to the sound of each other's breathing, along with the crickets in the distance.

He stopped in his tracks when you two reached his favourite spot. Right by the water, but surrounded by a few trees and the softest grass you'd ever seen.

You let go of his hand to tie your hair back.

"It's nice, right?" Rafe smiles and goes to sit down on the patch of grass. He nodded his head towards the ground, asking you to do the same.

"Very." You accept his invitation and sit down too.

After a few seconds, he speaks up again, a little nervous this time. "I uh... I haven't enjoyed anyone's company this much uh... in a while." Uncomfortable with the vulnerability, he picked up a pebble and through it in the lake.

You grin at his words. The feeling was mutual, but for some reason you didn't mention that. You were still a little skeptical of Rafe, even though tonight proved you otherwise many times. The image you had of him before this week was just so so different than what you had seen now. It would take a while to change the way you viewed him, but you were well on your way.

"I am quite the upgrade from Topper." It was a joke, to ease the growing tension between you two— sexual tension.

He snorts and leans back until he's laying flat on the ground. So you join him.

Stargazing: check.

You both laid side by side and stared at the night sky. The light pollution usually got in the way of seeing the stars, but since you were on the outskirts of town, the sky was full of twinkling lights. It was breathtaking.

"I'll take the gifts back." Rafe's voice cuts through the sounds of the outdoors. "I'm— I should've listened to you. I- I know I can come off too strong sometimes." He didn't look at you as he spoke— instead, speaking out into the night. Confessing to the moon.

"It was a sweet gesture. You have great taste." You comfort him and chuckle softly. "I just—y'know? Pool water."

He nods, "yeah." Then he adds, "and also uh... if you don't wanna see me again, it's okay. No pressure."

Your brows furrow and you turn your head to the side to look at his face. You attempted to read his expression, but he was too stoic.

Flipping over so you were laying on your stomach, you prop yourself up on your elbows and face him properly.

"Where did all the confidence go, Mr. Cameron?" A playful smile rested on your lips.

He brings his arms up and rests his head on his forearms— accentuating his biceps. Your eyes quickly took them in, then returned to his face.

He was looking at you now too.

“I don’t know. I guess I used it all up during our courting stage.” He chuckles awkwardly.

You nod with a quiet ahh.

"Besides, I thought you weren't into that." Rafe says shyly, "you seemed pretty mad over text."

You purse your lips and shake your head. "I was just a little freaked out... by the attention."

He quirks a brow and asks, "my attention?"

"Yeah," you pause. "It was new and unexpected. I mean I thought the presents were initially from Caleb," you exclaim.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and holds back a laugh. "I know... I was overheard your conversation that day at the Wreck."

Your eyes widen and you lightly slap his chest. "And you didn't say anything?"

He giggles at the sensation and responds, "it was entertaining! And I thought the mystery would be... I don't know? Romantic."

You kiss your teeth and scoot closer to him. "Well, it wasn't."

Rafe deflates slightly and mumbles an apology.

"But tonight— that was pretty romantic."

"Yeah?" He feels better and lifts his head to bring one of his hands to stroke your cheek.

You let him. Actually, you do more—you lean into his touch.

"Yeah... I really like our conversations. And you put thought into the whole night which I really appreciate." You lift your own hand and place it on top of his as it rests on your cheek.

You wanted him to laugh, but he just stared at you like he was picturing your whole life together. One bedroom apartment during college and then after graduation, you'd move into a house. That he buys for you, of course. A dog, too. You'd host dinner parties that would start in the living room, and end in the backyard with a wine in hand as you admired the new patio he built. You'd hug your friends goodbye and make plans for the next one. Then he'd pull you into his arms, impatiently, because he missed you all night and he couldn't resist the red lipstick you had on. You'd tell him you were tired, and he'd shush you with a million soft kisses. Rafe would walk you to the bedroom and help you undress and take you to be—

"Rafe?" You tilt your head. "You okay?"

He snaps out of his idyllic daydream and nods his head. "You look really beautiful tonight. I was just joking around earlier... but I wish I didn't."

You smile and rub soft circles on the back of his hand with your index finger. Leaning in, you whisper, "and you look really fucking hot." You giggle at his widening eyes. "I thought that the second I saw you."

Rafe didn't know what to do with himself. He knew he was blushing all over, and was relieved you couldn't tell in the darkness.

"So then I'm assuming— and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong— you do want to see me again?"

You scoff dramatically and reply, "it really pains me to admit— but, yeah. But if we go ice skating again, you will never—"

You were interrupted by Rafe's lips on yours. He'd sat up and leaned down to kiss you as you laid on your stomach. It was awkward and slightly uncomfortable, yet, perfect. He noticed your initial surprise which he thought was adorable, and then when you moved your lips, he felt like he was on fire.

Without breaking the kiss, you slowly rose until you were kneeling on the grass.

The two of you tasted each other's lips like they were made of taffy.

He brought his other hand to rest on the back of your neck as he pulled you closer, like that was even possible. Your hands cupped his cheeks like the first time you two had done this, and Rafe moaned breathlessly into the kiss, just like the first time.

You were the first to pull away which caused Rafe to groan in protest, but it died down when you pecked the tip of his nose.

"It's late," you whispered inches away from him.

"I know." His breathing was uneven, and he was having a little trouble thinking straight with the rising situation in his pants.

But he was a gentleman— or at least he could try. Because he really liked you and all he wanted was for you to feel the same. So, tonight, he'd push his selfishness and impatience away, and focus on you. A kiss was enough for the night. If you wanted more next time, he'd gladly provide it. But he'd never pressure you.

"Drive me home?" You ask and kiss his bottom lip.

He closes his eyes and whines internally when you pull away.

"Y/N?" His voice came out a little desperate. "I don't want tonight to end."

Your heart melted at his words. "It has too." You lean in and kiss his cheek. "Or else I won't be able to take you out for breakfast tomorrow."

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So sorry for the wait, and thank you so much for reading!!

Tags <33: @pogueee @moomoo-17 @vanessa-rafesgirl @drewsphswife @scne-vampire @sturniolo1trips @lia-wyllt @x-angel-o @swhistledown @v1h-lin0 @444xkyi

Also, fun fact lol my "Make me feel" Patrick fic was initially going to be about Rafe, but then I decided to change it last minute.

I thought that was worth mentioninig, in case you guys would like to see something similar for Rafe, let me know!!

[leonalovesalot]

ONE THOUSAND NOTES IS SO INSANE THANK YOU THANK YOU TO EVERYONE TO LIKED/COMMENTED/REBLOGGED I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU TO BITS

Everybody loves you, but nobody likes you

RafeCameron x Reader

In which Rafe and JJ get into a fight that escalates—landing Rafe in the hospital. You’re the only one who cares enough to check if he’s okay.

wc: 3.8k

My little offering to @zyafics 's MRGA campaign! I think it's such a great idea, and I love all the works coming from it <3

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“Wait, what happened?” Your words cut through the chaos that glommed onto the pogues.

JJ grabbed the ice pack from Pope, and placed it on his jaw with a hiss. He nodded to Sarah to respond to you.

“JJ and Rafe got into it again.” She said bluntly, like it was an everyday occurrence that shouldn’t be met with the shock that you possessed.

You shake your head quickly. “No- no. The part about the bat.”

“Oh, that.” JJ chuckles sadistically, “yeah, I hit him with a bat— right over the head.” He pointed to the back of his head.

Pope chimed in, “it was a long time coming too.”

You stood there with your eyes widened. “Isn’t that a little too far? I- you guys usually use fists, not weapons.”

Everyone turned to face you with identically confused looks. What were you on about? What did you feel? Concern? Disapproval? Why? It’s Rafe. He makes the pogues life a living hell, and though you’re not a pogue, you still detest his behaviour.

Your relationship with Rafe wasn't complicated because, well, it didn’t exist. The two of you knew each other like all kooks kind of know each other. Nods at parties and waves at the wreck. Nothing more. You were always closer to Sarah because she was your age and Rafe was just her older, short-tempered, brother. You stayed out of his way as he seemed like the guy that loathed everyone. But what you didn’t know was that, out of all of Sarah’s friends, he liked you the most. Nothing crazy— not like he bending over backwards for your attention. But, he did sometimes feel a little fuzzy when you’d acknowledge him.

“What’s the big deal? Are we forgetting about the time he and Top literally hit Pope with golf clubs?” Kiara brought up a good point and you felt bad that you had kind of forgotten about that.

You clumsily respond, “that wasn’t to the head. And it didn’t land him in the hospital.” Satisfied with your reasoning, you shook your head and grabbed your jacket and keys, ready to leave.

Pope scoffed and JJ stared at you with a slightly hurt expression. “Can’t believe you’re taking his side.” Pope commented under his breath.

It made you stop in your steps. “I’m not taking sides— I’ve never been on any side ever. This exhausting rivalry is childish, and it’s making everyone act like fucking murderers.” With that, you left.

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There weren’t many thoughts in your mind as you drove to the hospital. If there were, you would’ve turned around and went home because why in the world were you going to see Rafe? And why was this making you so emotional? Maybe it was due to the substantiality of a hospital. None of these petty fights ever ended in the sirens and stretchers. None that you knew of, at least.

"Name?" The receptionist asked you through a yawn.

You state your name and nervously tap your foot. It was weird. The whole night was weird. You weren’t really sure what you wanted with Rafe, but every time your mind flashed to the image of him lying alone in a hospital room, clutching his head, your worry felt justified. Checking in on him just seemed like the decent thing to do.

This Pogue-versus-Kook war had gone on long enough, and if no one else was willing to cross the line, you would.

"What's your relation to the patient?" she asked, typing away at her computer, unaware of the unintentional difficulty of her question. What’s the word for two people who grew up together, but were also technically strangers?

"Does that matter?" You cringed as you asked.

Her fingers paused on the keyboard and she looked at you with an arched brow. "Ma'am, we have a lot of foot traffic at this moment and Mr. Cameron hasn't informed us of the arrival of any visitors. So, if it isn't pressing, I suggest you come back tomorrow— or see Mr. Cameron when he's discharged—"

“Girlfriend!” You panic and chirp, "I'm his girlfriend."

It felt unnatural to say but it was the only thing you could think of. Sister was out of the question and it wasn't like you could pass as his Mom.

You expected her to call your bluff and send you off, but she was... surprised?

"Oh? Is that right?"

Your brows furrowed as you racked your brain, trying to make sense of her reaction. Rafe was popular—successful with the ladies, too. Sure, the relationships didn't last long, but he never left a party alone.

"Yes," you nod kissing your teeth, "that is right."

She shrugs and continues, "it's just unexpected, that’s all." Leaning over to hand you a visitor tag, she mumbled, "I guess there really is someone for everybody."

"What does that— why do you say that?"

"You tell me. Mr. Cameron was brought here after brawl, that he most likely initiated. He rode the ambulance alone and no one, besides you paid him a visit." She added, "not even his parents."

Your lips parted at her words. It was kind of upsetting when she put it liked that. You swallow, "they're busy, probably."

“No parent should be too busy for their child — especially when that child is in the hospital with a concussion.” She left you with those heavy words and pointed you towards Rafe’s room.

When you reached his door, you paused before knocking— afraid to be faced with anger and rejection. This was Rafe after all. It's not like he was some well-adjusted guy who had no issue showing vulnerability. No, this was the guy who drowned his sorrows with alcohol and drugs. To top it off, he knew you were JJ's friend. Would he hate you just by association?

"I can see you standing out there." His slurred words make you freeze.

With a deep breath in, you entered the room. When his eyes met yours, surprise flashed across his face. He couldn't tell it was you from through the door. His vision was a little blurry too, so that didn't help.

"Hi," you offered weakly. You stayed standing at the doorway with your hands clasped in front of you.

"Y/N?" He adjusted with a groan as he sat up. "I don't get it. Why're you here?"

Okay. He wasn't immediately throwing things at you to kick you out of the room. There was no anger in his voice, or rejection in his tone. Just pure curiosity. You could handle curiosity.

"I heard about what happened." You kept it brief and decided not to mention JJ for now. You knew that people with concussions shouldn't be stressed out, even in the slightest. And you're pretty sure that just the mention of JJ's name would cause smoke to come out of his ears.

After a few seconds he just uttered a, "so?"

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. “So… so I wanted to see how- how you were.”

He raised his arm to gesture at himself in a how-do-you-think-I-am sort of way, but stopped when a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. He grunted. “Wish I could say ‘you should see the other guy,’ but today, the other guy is me.” His words were bitter, but his face told a different story—a faint curl of his lip. Barely there. But you didn’t miss it.

“Well,” you slowly walk into the room and stand at the foot of the bed, “you win some, you lose some.”

He clicked his tongue as a flicker of anger returned, making you regret not changing the subject when you had the chance. “Yeah, and I intend to win the next.”

His words were met with silence. It’s not like you were going to agree with him, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to disagree as that would lead to an argument. He’d always had a short fuse. His emotions controlled him and, although, you could relate to an extent, Rafe often took things too far.

Even though you stayed quiet, Rafe began to explain himself. “I was lying there, on the ground, while JJ was being carried off by his friends. No one rushed to help me, y’know? Not even my own sister. You realize how shitty that made me feel? Like I was worthless or something.” He turned away from you to look at the window, but you didn’t miss how his eyes blinked rapidly to push down his tears.

All you could do was nod. Not in agreement, but acknowledgement.

He continued, “If you were there tonight, who would you have helped?” His eyes met yours again, filled with desperation—like he just needed someone, anyone, to say they cared. To say he meant something to them.

But you couldn’t give him that, because he was in the wrong. And you wouldn’t be convinced otherwise. You settled on saying, “probably the person who didn’t start the fight.”

He takes in a shaky breath, “oh, so- so JJ.”

You didn’t nod. You didn’t move. Just tried to shoot him an apologetic smile.

“What if it was the other way around?” Rafe questioned again.

“Then I’d help you,” you paused and chuckled lightly, “and scold JJ.”

He mirrored you and weakly laughed too. “Is that why you’re here then? To scold me?”

The mood was lightening so you mentally patted yourself on the back for being the reason. It was eye-opening too because, in your head, Rafe was this belligerent tornado. And maybe it was the painkillers or the concussion, but right now he was being sweet. It made you wonder whether the Rafe you knew was just a persona— a mask he wore to stop others from getting close. And this Rafe was really him underneath it all. A little shy. A little insecure. And very cute.

“I was… but then your concussion ruined my plans.” It was very obviously a joke. However, it did have you facing the sudden realization that you came all the way here because you were worried. About him. Rafe.

Another chuckle escaped him. “Hm… that’s disappointing. I would’ve loved to see you really lay into me.” His smirk, this time, was more clear.

A chill ran up your spine. It was interesting how even after getting hit in the head with a bat, Rafe couldn’t stop himself from attempting to flirt with you. He’d act like this for anyone. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“Be careful what you wish for,” you snicker, trying (and failing) to sound smooth. “I can be really scary.”

Rafe adjusted on the bed to lay down again. He rested his head against the pillows to get a little comfortable. When he found the right position, he patted the small space on the bed next to his thighs, inviting you closer. Your eyes widened momentarily because you weren’t sure if you were reading him right. He noticed and softly nodded.

So you walked over to the bed and almost stumbled in doing so. Almost. Sometimes when you thought about yourself and exactly what you were doing, you’d make mistakes. And the way his eyes followed your every step only made you more nervous. This was Rafe, your thoughts kept screaming. You’d barely ever had a conversation this long with him. And now that you had, you didn’t want it to end.

When you took a seat at the edge of his bed, he shifted his legs to give you as much room as he could. You pursed your lips and scooted a little further. When you’d imagine how you looked from outside your body, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Rafe laying down, and you sitting with him. Like you were actually his girlfriend or something.

He hummed in satisfaction. “You don’t look so scary up close.” His voice was quieter—not because he didn’t want you to hear him, but because he only wanted you to hear him.

"Thank you." It was the only response you could think of, so you nodded and avoided his gaze. "I guess."

Rafe enjoyed you. Your words, your voice, your mannerisms. The comforting presence you carried that made him all soft. He always thought you were too good for everyone. Not in a snooty way, but in a moral one. No one had anything against you. Except in the recent years with your switching sides and all.

Growing up, you stayed in a little bubble that only had room for Sarah— never branching out due to your introversion. But when one day Pope offered to explain a vector multiplication question to you, you had an itch to befriend him. And so you did. After that, he introduced you to the others, and they took a liking to you too. Since then, you were all joint at the hips.

This all hit Rafe at once, and he couldn't stop his expression from twisting into a scowl. You didn't notice though— too busy hoping he couldn't see the faint blush rising on your cheeks.

It was like a switch was flipped, and he couldn't stop himself from ruining the perfect moment. "You shouldn't be friends with them." He said with slight disgust in his voice.

Your brows furrowed and you snapped your head to look at him. "What? Who?" For a moment you existed in a world where Rafe was just a person who happened to be injured. But Rafe wasn't just a person. He was a kook too, and it seemed like he'd never let you forget that.

"The pogues— fucking JJ." He spat bitterly.

You sighed, exhausted. "Why does it matter to you, Rafe?" Your eyes stared down at your hands in your lap as you mourned the peaceful conversation that ended too soon.

"It matters because you're not one of them. They- they're dangerous. You really wanna be friends with someone who goes around bashing heads in?" He wanted to grab your chin and make you look at him.

"JJ's never done that before." You mumbled.

A sharp scoff makes you flinch. "That doesn't mean he won't do it again! And the fact that he thinks he got away with it this time..." Rafe shakes his head as his voice trails on, "I'm gonna have him locked up just like his Father."

That was the final straw. Without hesitation, you stood up with the intention of leaving and never turning back. There was a reason no one gave a shit about him being in the hospital.

This was a waste of time.

Shock and panic consumed Rafe, and any contempt he held for the Pogues vanished instantly. His body moved before his thoughts could stop him—he sat up and reached forward, desperate to clutch you and keep you there. But the pain you’d distracted him from ripped through him, pulling a strangled groan from his throat. What hurt worse, though, was how you didn’t look back.

"Wait- wait, Y/N." He was breathless. Helpless.

Something about the sound of his voice made you halt in your tracks. "What?" You asked with your back still turned to him.

"Stay," he choked out. "Please."

It wasn't enough. You looked down and chewed on your lip deciding what to do.

Rafe realized he'd do anything to get you to stay— beg you even. And he didn't understand why or even how he felt this way. "Sorry. I just— sorry." He sounded defeated, but sincere.

Apologies didn't mean much to you if there wasn't some change in behaviour to accommodate them. However, you knew Rafe would rather jump off a cliff than admit to his mistakes. So this was a big deal. A big step.

You swallow and turn back around. Rafe visibly looked relieved which had you feeling a little funny. Walking over to his bed, you took a seat again. But not next to his thigh, like earlier, but a lot further down. He felt a sting and had to remind himself that at least you stayed.

You cleared your throat and took the silence as an opportunity to change the topic. Not that you still weren’t upset with him. But there was no point in beating a dead horse. “Do you know when you’ll be discharged?”

Rafe was grateful for how quickly you were able to shift the conversation back to how it was— before he fucked it up. “I'm here for overnight observation, they said. I’ll go home tomorrow.”

You nod at his words. “That’s nice.” Playfully you add, “I’ll get to reprimand you sooner than I thought.”

He laughed, this time more obviously like he wanted you to know you made him happy. It felt a bit like he was overcompensating, but you found it endearing. He wanted to respond and say something like I don’t mind as long as I get to see you again or you’re the only one I’d let do that, y’know? But the words got caught in his throat. And he had a feeling it was for the best because, again, you were too good for him.

“Do you ever miss your old life?” His question surprised you.

“My old life?” You tilted your head.

“Yeah." He nods and runs his tongue across his lower lip to make the chapped feeling go away (you felt ashamed for staring). "I used to see you at the parties— not just mine, but also Topper's." He paused. "Sarah always followed the action, and you always followed Sarah." He chuckles lightly, remembering you back then. He’d see you at those events and almost feel sorry for you—how out of place you looked. It was quite adorable.

Your mind flashed with images of those nights. The nights that turned into mornings. The walk back up your driveway as the sun climbed over the horizon behind you. It was all fitting for the carefree high schooler that you were— keyword being were. When you got to university, you no longer felt the need to pretend to be that person. You enjoyed the quiet. Nights spent with the pogues, sitting around a fire and laughing, was the perfect way to spend your time. You wouldn't want it any other way, and sometimes you wished you'd found them sooner.

"I miss being a teenager, sure. But the rest of it— not so much. I think I'm finally content with where I am and, although you won't be pleased to hear it, I owe a lot of it to the pogues." You smiled softly at the answer.

Rafe felt an unexpected pinch of jealousy at your answer. He wondered if he'd ever had that sort of impact on anyone. If he'd ever changed someone's life for the better. But he came up short.

You noticed Rafe was in his head. He didn't respond to you, so you hesitantly returned the question. "What about you?"

He snapped out of his depressing thoughts, and quirked a brow at you.

You continue, "are you happy with where you are?" You were aware at how heavy and private the question was. But your curiosity (nosiness) overpowered your respect for boundaries.

His gaze was making you feel small. But it was the same for him too. It's like he wanted to impress you, but also scare you like he usually did with others. Right now, though, behind his eyes were millions of thoughts and worries about whether he should actually tell you the truth or not. Who were you to ask him that anyway?

"I don't know." It was all he could offer. He hoped you wouldn't question him further.

"What do you mean you don't know?" You asked without skipping a beat.

He sighed and brought his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. A nervous tick, you thought. "I mean: I don't know." He took a deep breath, "I get high a lot— but you probably know that." Rafe's eyes left yours and landed on the window again. He was embarrassed and didn't want you to seem him this way— didn't want you to see the truth. "And- and then at parties, I get wasted. Golf with the guys is also just an excuse to drink during the day." It felt like he was in confession with a priest. "So I don't have much time to think about whether I'm happy. But I guess that's the point."

You were surprised at the transparency. Rafe Cameron told you things he never thought he'd say out loud. But maybe, it was because no one had cared enough to ask.

Unsure if you should comfort him or dig deeper and psychoanalyze him, you stay quiet. You sigh and stand up, which has Rafe panicking again. Had he scared you off? Was this too much for you? But then you moved closer to the spot you originally sat at, next to his waist, and planted yourself there again. Rafe mentally fist pumped, feeling like he won the lottery.

"Would you, uhm— and you can say no," you began timidly.

Rafe noticed your hesitation and reached out to place his hand atop yours. It was an encouraging gesture. An attempt to push you to continue. After his revealing monologue, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. A wonderful feeling that you gifted to him.

His hand on yours made your fingers twitch. You were afraid that if you made any big or sudden movement, he'd retract and go back into his shell, which was the last thing you wanted. It was a little cool— his hand— calloused and cool. But you liked it, nonetheless.

Gathering every ounce of courage in your body, you spoke again. "If you're up for it, would you want to hang out sometime?" Quickly adding, "after you're all better, of course!"

Rafe felt giddy.

The last time he felt this way was when his father took him out of school early on his birthday. When he was eight. It was a warm sensation, accompanied by the need to jump up and down from sheer joy. He wouldn't mind getting used to it.

He tried to keep his cool and stuttered out, "yeah— no, yeah. I'm up for it, sure. Yeah."

A big smile slapped across your face and before you could respond, the door opened and a nurse stepped into the room.

"Mr. Cameron, you should turn in for the night. Your recovery requires a lot of sleep. Your girlfriend can come back tomorrow morning." With that she left the room, leaving you to pick your jaw up from off the floor.

"Girlfriend, huh?" Rafe teased.

You jumped off the hospital bed and avoided looking at him— too flustered to do so. You knew your face was a blushing mess, so you quickly walked to the door, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Ugh, you hoped the ground would swallow you up.

"I'll see you soon! Hope you feel better!" Your words came out all breathy as you ran out of the room, and down the hall.

Rafe was too enamoured to sleep that night.

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First time writing for Rafe!!

Thank you for reading <3

I'd love to write more for him too because helloooooo look at him!!

[leonalovesalot]

This is so random but I’ve been rewatching friends for like the thousandth time and Monica and Pete are such an underrated pairing. Like him buying her a restaurant and making her head chef dude?? I’m literally giggling as I type this.

It’s also giving me some inspiration for Rafe fics hehehehee as they’re both men with money hehehehe

[leonalovesalot]

GIRLLL LET ME BE HONEST, I NEED CMABOY PATRICK LIKE SO BAD. I EVEN WHINED ABOUT IT. Anyways, imagine Patrick and reader are roommates and Patrick always has like Tasha and Art over and in his room and reader just assumes it’s cause they’re friends but Art always makes jokes about it but reader is clueless and just laughs it off. Then, one day reader walks in on Patrick..doing stuff on camera. And uuhhh! Whatever else you feel is right. Love your work btw!

I really admire your passion haha!! This sounds really really cool and I’m adding it to my list right away!! I just have a few things in my drafts I wanna complete but after that I’ll get started on this!!

Thank you for sending this ask I really love camboy art/patrick but wasn’t sure what else to write so I really appreciate this<33

[leonalovesalot]

Me too I have no self control when it comes to that man😋😋

Just gotta show you that I'm the one

RafeCameron x Reader

In which you kiss Rafe during a game of spin the bottle, and he can't seem to leave you alone after.

wc: 7.1k

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The bass of the music made your whole body vibrate with adrenaline— that and the alcohol. It was the first party of the summer yet, everyone celebrated like it was the last. You rarely showed up to things like this, but after a difficult semester and a tough breakup, you figured you deserved to let loose. That’s what you kept telling yourself—to drown out the badgering thought that if you’d just been good enough, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself cheated on.

You shake your head like you were trying to get the thoughts to fall from your ears, and gulped down another Jell-O shot. Your fourth one of the night.

When you set the shot glass down, your arm was yanked and your body was being dragged over to the door leading down to the basement.

“Soph, where’re you taking me?” You giggled at the end of your question, which was confusing because nothing was funny. But you heard from friends that when you got drunk, it was a laugh fest.

“Basement— they’re playing spin the bottle.” She held you tight and guided you down the stairs. Leaning closer to whisper in your ear, she says, “maybe I’ll get to kiss Caleb.” She almost squealed with excitement.

Lots of people were laughing and chit chatting as they sat down in a poorly formed circle. You found an empty space next to Topper, who smiled politely at you. At that moment, you remembered that alcohol also made you very affectionate. You didn’t know Topper all that well and you still reached out and pinched his cheek in response. He was taken aback, but didn’t say anything.

“Alright, everyone knows the rules. If the bottle lands on you, you gotta give the spinner a big ol’ kiss. Capeesh?” Kelce announced to everyone, and looked around to make sure they were on the same page.

Nods and hums filled the room and an empty corona bottle was placed in the middle of the circle.

Kelce went first.

Everyone stared at the bottle in anticipation. Some dreading it landing on them, while others prayed to a higher being that they’d get to kiss Kelce. You, on the other hand, just looked up and around the room at everyone since the spinning bottle was making you dizzy.

Cheers sounded through the basement as the bottle finally chose. It landed on Kelce’s ex-girlfriend, Madison. Everyone whooped and laughed at how unbelievably perfect it was. Kelce was in disbelief and Madison looked like she regretted coming to the party. But rules were rules and also, people were too drunk to realize they had free will and could back out.

A perverse smile was slapped across your face, along with everyone else, at the sight of Kelce and Madison leaning in. Their breakup was the talk of the town as neither of them were the type to keep a low profile. The arguments in the streets to screenshots posted all over social media made this whole situation funnier.

The two leaned in and kissed each other for a split second before going right back to their spots. The group booed at the lack of commitment, but the ex-couple didn’t seem to care.

Madison’s turn.

The group once again glued their eyes to the spinning glass bottle. Your eyes wandered and took in everyone’s appearances— just a bunch of horny kooks, and you were no different. It had been a while since you’d got some action— or any proper action. It was embarrassing to admit but, technically, you were a virgin. You’d done everything but the big “P” for penetration— always interrupted. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t miss the closeness. Lips on your lips. Hands in your hair.

"Oh shit! Didn't know we'd get some girl-on-girl tonight!" A voice hollered from across the circle and you tuned back into the game.

Madison's bottle landed on Jade.

It was kind of perfect, actually. The one thing you remembered about Jade was how, one time in high school, you caught her checking you out after gym. You thought a lot about her after that— wondering what the curious stare meant back then.

Seeing her now—unflinching, ready to kiss Madison—confirmed your suspicions, and you mentally patted yourself on the back.

The two leaned in pressed their lips against one another. The crowd cheered and whistled as the girls got deeper into it. Your brows raised slightly as you were surprised at how long the kiss was. It was messy too— you could see a little tongue. Madison was practically swallowing Jade like she was trying to get any trace of Kelce off of her. You took a deep breath and looked away as you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks.

"Now that's what 'm talking about!"

The girls pulled away, sitting back down with shy smiles and flushed faces. They avoided each others' eyes and the group nudged them, finding the whole situation funny.

Jade's turn.

She spun the bottle without hesitation and stared at it intensely. She was quite attractive, with her dark hair and piercing eyes—so naturally, everyone was kind of hoping the bottle would choose them. You included. You laughed at the thought. God, I'm drunk.

The bottle began to slow its rotation and finally came to a halt. The loud, boisterous kooks somehow grew even louder and more boisterous. Your eyes trailed from the neck of the bottle to the legs of the person sitting cross-legged, up their torso, and finally to their face

Rafe Cameron.

The reaction of the crowd was understandable.

Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

What to say about him?

He was the personification of the word "kook". During his teenage years, he was like a tyrant. Most people stayed out of his way because of his unpredictability and short fuse. You always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt considering how he was raised, but he didn't always make that so easy. With all this in mind, it's worth mentioning that now, as an adult, he was doing better. His belligerent days were behind him, and he had calmed down quite a bit. You don't remember the last time you heard of him beating someone bloody. Nowadays, when he'd come back from college, he'd work with his Father during the day, and let loose during the night. Still, you didn't forget about the person he was. No one did. Tensed shoulders and hushed whispers still arose at the mention of Rafe's name, and it would be a while before that changed.

Rafe was nonchalant. When the bottle landed on him, he held up his index and middle finger to motion for Jade to come closer to him. You watched with your Jell-O shot riddled mind— which had you thinking he was very sexy at that moment. Jade licked her lips and leaned forward on all fours— ready for it. Rafe's hand found the back of her neck and he pressed his lips to hers. The room erupted in cheers and you covered your ears at the volume. Your eyes stayed on Rafe and Jade and you shamelessly wondered how it would feel to kiss him. Despite his rough appearance, his lips were soft and pink.

They look delicious.

The kiss was short and clean. Nothing like the one before, and a part of you was surprised. Rafe pulled away first and sat back down, taking a swig of his drink.

Now you were a little intrigued— more alert. Moving your pupils side-to-side, you counted the heads in the circle and rounded up to about fifteen participants. There were also lots more people in the room, just as spectators, and they were at the edge of their seats. There was like a 7% chance that you’d be the one the bottle landed on— slim odds, but not impossible.

“I hope it doesn’t land on me,” Sofia whispers in your ear.

You nodded, even though you couldn’t really hear what she said over the drumroll sounding through the room.

Rafe held the bottle with his left hand and spun it with a sharp flick of the wrist. He stared at it closely. You wondered if he was mentally hoping that it would land on someone specific. There was no way to tell just by studying his face.

Again, the bottle began to slow down in momentum, and everyone knew it was going to choose the next participant soon. It was an exciting feeling— a lot more amplified during this round than the ones before. And that was the power of Rafe.

The bottle stopped spinning.

You looked at it and followed its path. You heard Sofia gasp right next to you.

The bottle pointed right between you and her.

The crowd groaned and then started weighing in on what should be done. Everyone talked over one another trying to reach a consensus.

All this over a game of spin the bottle.

You swallowed and looked across the circle at Rafe, whose eyes were already on you. It made you flinch in surprise and you quickly averted your gaze back to the bottle. You pretended to think about a way to solve the impossible equation.

Hmm, maybe he could spin again?

While you were busy pretending to look deep in thought, Rafe had already made up his mind. Ignoring all the opinions of those around him, he reached forward and shifted the bottle an inch so it was pointing directly at you.

Now you were the one gasping, as Sofia let out a sigh of relief.

Your eyes remained fixed on the bottle as the crowd got rowdy once again. Because this wasn’t as uneventful as a re-spin. No— this time, the bottle didn’t choose you.

Rafe did.

It felt like the first time ever in spin the bottle history for something like that to happen. And that’s why everyone was shouting, cheering, and feeling oh so lucky to be witnesses. Because now there were layers to this game. It raised questions. Like, why did he choose you over Sofia? Or, had he been hoping it would land on you all along?

Whatever it was, you didn’t have time to think about it right now. Because the game was still ongoing.

And this time, Rafe was the one moving closer. He was actually putting in the effort to come to you. This had you slightly impressed and also feeling a little funny. You felt Sofia pat you on the back as a sign of encouragement. So you slowly moved towards him too. Quickly running your tongue over your lips, you scooted forward and he met you before you got to the middle.

Impatient?

Eager?

Coming face-to-face with him was— and you don't say this lightly— breathtaking. You could sit there for days trying to find a flaw, and still come up short. He was simply perfect. With alluring eyes and pink lips, it was no surprise that everyone fawned over him all his life.

The group chanted your names like you guys were athletes or something. It had your veins coursing with adrenaline, and you weren't sure if you enjoyed that feeling or not. You were never used to being the centre of attention, but Rafe was. And that somehow comforted you.

Rafe did everything at his own pace—peer pressure never got to him. Finally, with a curl of his lip, he tilted his head and leaned forward, closing the distance. His lips met yours and he corrected his angle to better feel them. Your initial instinct was to freeze and just let him do all the work. But then you realized that this opportunity wouldn’t present itself again— it’s not like you’d want to be anywhere near Rafe when you’re sober. So why not make the most of it now, and give people a show?

Your blood alcohol content provided you with the boost that you needed. While Rafe took his time to suck on your bottom lip, you brought your hands to the sides of his cheeks and held him like he was the most precious artifact in the world. When he felt your touch, he moaned all breathy into the kiss—just for you to hear. You took that chance to deepen the kiss and swipe the inside of his mouth with your tongue, which he gladly welcomed.

The crowd’s cheers didn’t die down once. If anything, they got louder.

When you felt satisfied with your little risk of the day, you pulled back. Rafe, for a moment, had forgotten where he was and reflexively leaned forward to catch your missing touch. But when it wasn't there, he opened his eyes and noticed you’d sat back down at your spot. Topper reached forward and shook his shoulder, exclaiming, “dude, that was crazy!” Rafe just took a few seconds to catch his breath and then returned to his spot. His fingers kept finding his way back to his lips to settle the tingling feeling that was so prominent there.

You were out of breath too, but the game wasn’t over.

So you reached for the bottle to continue your turn. Grabbing it between your fingers and thumb, you gave it a hard spin and kneeled before it.

It was hard concentrating on the game after what you just did, and your thoughts were now filled with Rafe Cameron. Just as your mind was occupied with him, your eyes wanted to be included too. So you briefly look away from the bottle, and to Rafe, only to see him standing up and leaving. A few people seemed to ask him where he was going, but he just shook his head in response.

It was almost like he didn’t want to watch you kiss someone else.

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The morning, or afternoon, brought the blaring sun and a miserable hangover. You barely stumbled out of your bed at half past noon, and threw up on your way to the shower. The regret set in as the water hit your skin, and you cringed as your mind played a recap of the night.

Images of the party, the solo cups, and the wasted kooks all came flashing through when you closed your eyes. However, they shot open when you remembered the spin the bottle game.

Oh god. I full on made out with Rafe.

You weren’t sure how you felt about the whole situation. Sure, it was just a game and there was no need for further complication. But you weren’t the type to just kiss anyone at anytime. All the people you’d been with were ones you’d intended to pursue, and date, and all that. Seeing as how that was the last thing you wanted with Rafe, it was hard to wrap your head around the act of doing something so intimate with someone who you’d never really talk to again.

Is this what adulthood is?

Is this what hook-up culture is like?

You didn’t care for it. But it made things easier that the only two people you kissed last night were ones you wouldn’t cross paths with again.

After Rafe left, your next kiss was with Caleb. Yes, the Caleb that Sofia was praying she’d get. It made things quite awkward and you apologized profusely to her before, and after, you quickly gave him a peck. You earned boo’s from the crowd but you didn’t really care because your friendship came before all that. So Caleb was off the table, and back to being a stranger.

Rafe is the same too. Before last night, the only time you remembered interacting with him was during chemistry (which he was repeating), when you got partnered up for a lab. It was mostly forgettable besides the part where he made you do the whole experiment and lab report on your own, which had you furious. But he made up for it by presenting it to the class, knowing you were too shy to do so. Oh, and he’d also grab you the goggles and lab coat every time. So… that was quite nice of him.

Nevertheless, that was almost four years ago. Now you two went to different universities and lived different lives. He took the business route, and you took arts— couldn’t be more different. There was nothing to worry about then. Last night would blend in with the rest of the nights to come and, soon, you would forget the feeling of his lips on yours, and the quiet desperation he had for you.

Stepping out of the shower, you felt a lot better. Cold showers were the cure to everything.

You headed down to the kitchen, trying to satiate the growling of your stomach. The fridge was full of leftovers from last night that your mom so kindly packed up for you. It was a shame you were too nauseous to eat anything too heavy. So you stuck to some cold cereal and walked over to the table to begin eating.

A doorbell made you flinch and stand up. You peaked out the window and noticed a van had dropped off a package for you. Maybe it was those shoes you ordered two weeks ago. Finally some good news.

Walking over to the front door you opened it to see the shoes truly had arrived. You bent down to pick up the box and noticed a small envelope leaned against the wooden railing of the porch. It didn’t seem to have come with the shoes. No, they were placed too far apart. And this envelope had your name written on it. Not in any fancy letters, just simple penmanship.

You furrow your brows, pick up both things, and head into the house.

The shoes could wait now that your intrigue was stolen by the envelope. It was black too. You didn’t even know they made them in that colour.

Slowly and carefully, you slid your fingernails under the flap and lifted it, trying your best not to tear anything. It felt expensive.

Maybe it’s an invitation to midsummer.

No, but then Mom and Dad would’ve gotten one too.

After successfully opening it without any damage, you peaked inside. There was just a slip of paper. Not just your common printer paper though— this was thicker. Like card-stock.

Your index and thumb pinched the top of it and took it out of the envelope. One side, the side you saw first, was blank. The other just had a small message written on it.

“That was some kiss.”

You stared at the card and read the words over and over again until you were seeing them in between blinks. Who could possibly send such a thing? And why?

Was it Caleb?

It was Caleb, wasn’t it?

Fuck, this is all so wrong! He’s not yours to claim and you weren’t his. Sofia would be distraught and the thought of that made you feel like you could puke again.

You slam the card down, and grab your car keys. Time to pay Caleb a little visit to nip this in the bud.

All you knew about him was that he recently started working the morning shift at the Wreck. He should still be there if you drove fast enough.

You pulled into the parking space and marched into the restaurant like you were on a life or death mission— which is what it felt like in the moment.

Your head turned from side-to-side quickly as your eyes scanned the place. They zeroed in when you spotted him behind the counter. Your legs moved and dragged the rest of you along. You placed the envelope on the counter and waited for him to notice you.

“Y/N, hey, what can I getcha?” Caleb picked up the plate from the customer before you and walked it over to the kitchen in the back. He returned with a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m not here to eat, Caleb.” You slid the envelope forward.

He furrowed his brows and looked down at it. “What’s this? Are you trying to bribe me or something?” He chuckles.

Look at him being all oblivious.

You narrow your eyes. “You know what it is. This- you can’t be sending me stuff like this.”

He was speechless, not having a clue of what you were on about. He looked down at the envelope again, then back at you and said, “Y/N, I have never seen this before. Ever.”

You scoff in disbelief. “At least own up to it— I mean come on! I came all the way here and—”

“Dude, I’ve been waiting for my sandwich forever.”

A voice cuts you off and steals Caleb’s attention. You turn to the sound and see Rafe behind you. Quickly you turn back and stare ahead, hoping he didn’t recognize you.

“Sorry, I’ll get on that.” Caleb shot Rafe an apologetic look and turned to you to quietly say, “promise I didn’t send you that.”

You weren’t sure if you trusted him. He could’ve just been too nervous to admit it. Maybe he wasn’t the confrontational type. Who knows?

With a sigh, and your head hung low, you walk out of the restaurant without glancing at anyone else.

If it was Caleb—and you knew it was—then your reaction would’ve made it clear to him that you weren’t into it. Which meant mission accomplished, because you only came to the Wreck to shut this down before it got out of hand.

On the drive home, there was still a feeling of dissatisfaction gnawing at you. Because, although, you were set on Caleb being the culprit, there was something about the sincerity in his voice that made you think otherwise.

He could've been a theatre kid— lots of time to perfect his acting.

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The next morning you were feeling a lot better without the life-altering hangover. To add to the great morning, you also woke up with zero thoughts of the mystery-of-the-card-giver— which sounded like poorly written Agatha Christie novel.

A new summer day came with so much potential, and so much daylight. You planned to run a few errands with your Dad and then catch a movie with Sofia. It was the perfect balance of productivity and relaxation, and you were ready to get on with it.

First on the list was picking your Dad up from the auto body shop a few blocks away. He had to leave his car with the mechanics because of a recent, harmless, fender bender.

You pull on your shorts and a band tee of a group you couldn't name three songs of, and head out the door. You stepped onto the porch and noticed a black box at the last minute, which made you stumble and roll your ankle. "Ow shit!" Leaning against the doorframe, you reached for your ankle and rubbed the area with the shooting pain. After trying, and failing, to massage that pain away, you let go and reached for the box.

You were already annoyed, and you had a feeling that the contents of this box would only exacerbate that. Holding it in your hands, it wasn't too heavy or too big. It was sleek, rectangular, and... velvet? So definitely not cheap.

Great.

You walked over to the porch swing and placed it in your lap.

What is Caleb's game here?

Pressing on the small golden button to make the lid pop up, you were gasping at the sight before you. A gold chain bracelet. You recognized the motifs on it— five of them. All four leaf clover shaped. Black. A vintage Van Cleef.

Holy shit these are like seven thousand dollars.

You felt like you had forgotten how to breathe. Quickly, you shut the box and place it next to you on the swing– afraid you'd break it.

Who in their right mind would carelessly spend money like this?

Caleb was rich, but not this rich. How could he shell out seven g's on you after just a peck that lasted like half a millisecond? He was clearly taking the whole "hopeless romantic" title too far.

Your phone buzzed and you checked to see that your Dad had texted you asking of your whereabouts. Snapping out of the daze, you put the box inside and leave for the auto body shop.

The whole day you felt a strange weight on your shoulders. Your love language wasn't receiving gifts, and so this made you very uncomfortable. The price too! You wouldn't accept it even if it was given to you by your husband of fifty years! (Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. But still.)

And the worst part was that you couldn't talk to Sofia about it as it would kill her.

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You got no sleep last night. Just tossing and turning as the bracelet stared at you from your nightstand. Eyeing you with its slick chain and shiny motifs. It was truly a sight to see and you were already starting to feel upset at the thought of parting with it.

So you decided to rip off the bandaid, and give it back to Caleb right away. Did you try it on a few times? Yes. Did you consider just keeping it because it was a gift for you and you deserved something nice? Yes.

But ultimately, the cost of the thing made you too nervous, and returning it was the right thing to do.

You were dressed for the day and ready to head out. Before opening the door, you took a deep breath and mentally prayed that there wouldn't be another expensive present awaiting you. You didn't know what you'd do if there was just a Rolls-Royce in your driveway. Mainly because you wouldn't know how to return it.

Unlocking the door, and opening it just a teeny bit, you peaked your head out and looked down.

Shit.

Another box. This one was square shaped and it had a small envelope attached.

Where does Caleb find the time?

You reluctantly picked it up and brought it inside. A few moments of mental debate began to take place as you couldn’t decide whether to open it or not. What if you got too attached?

The envelope sat there on your coffee table and you were dreading the thought of another flirtatious line. You thought you had been stern with Caleb the other day. And yet here was evidence that your plan had backfired.

You bite the bullet and tear open the envelope without a care this time. Inside was a small note again.

“For your pretty neck.”

You furrow your brows and notice your stomach felt funny. You turn to the box, finally, and open it to find a matching necklace to your bracelet. Oh my. Oh no. Oh, this has gone too far.

Hitting up the Wreck twice in three days was rare for you. You typically didn’t like going there because of potential run-ins with old classmates you felt awkward around. But this was important stuff! You were being showered with expensive jewelry! And it had to stop.

On your angry march into the restaurant, you were mentally rehearsing a long and scary speech you’d say to Caleb. Drop words like “impermissible” and “cease!”

“Didn’t like the necklace, huh?”

You froze. It felt like the Looney Toons when a character was sprinting with smoke coming from their legs and then stop with that horrible tire screeching sound. A chill ran up your back because that voice… that voice didn’t belong to Caleb. No. It belonged to Rafe. You stood there for a few seconds, right in front of the doors. Then you took a deep breath, and turned around to Rafe who was standing behind you.

A million things could’ve been said but for some reason you settled on, “what— uhm— what’re you talking about?”

You flinched from surprise when he let out a short, but genuine, laugh.

“You know what.” He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks his brow at you.

Before you could respond, your phone rang in your pocket. You look down and fish out your phone, shooting him an apologetic look. It was Sofia.

When you glanced back up, Rafe had walked off with Kelce. And you were left with your hummingbird heartbeat and Sofia’s voice ranting about another annoying incident involving her coworker.

Her words went in one ear, and out the other. The only thing you could think about right now was how it was Rafe all along. The note. The jewelry.

For your pretty neck.

What in the actual hell.

You had never thought to suspect him because you didn’t think he actually had… feelings? Like human emotions? Like did he actually want you to like him? Was he capable of longing for a person? Unless that’s not what this was— maybe he just wanted to get laid. In the midst of this busy schedule, he probably didn’t have much time to get his rocks off. And maybe that’s why he needed you. To be there as a stress reliever. And he most likely thought you’d be more than up for it considering the way you kissed him. Like it was your last day on earth. Practically sucking face.

Oh god.

Later that night you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. There were too many questions on your mind. Along with those, of course, was a fluttering feeing in your stomach. Because even though you didn’t know his intentions, a part of you felt like you were actually being pursued. Like your attention was a valuable prize. A goal.

But this had already gone too far. And you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing something else on your doorstep tomorrow morning.

Maybe I should just stop leaving the house.

You shake your head and knock some sense into yourself. It’s time to take matters into your own hands! Sure, in person, you couldn’t get a word out to Rafe because of his intimidating presence (and hot face). But you could shoot him a text. There was more confidence behind the screen without his eyes swallowing you up.

You grab your cellphone.

You stood up and paced around your bedroom. Okay, all you have to do is send a strongly-worded text. Words. On a screen. You’ll be fine! It’s just a text! It’s not like he can reach through the screen and touch you, right? That kind of technology wouldn't come into existence overnight.

You took deep breaths as you typed his phone number into your cell. Okay. Okay. You can do this. Words on a screen. Words. Letters.

You stared at the message in horror, but sent it anyway. Why in the world were you texting like you needed a moment to talk about your lord and saviour Jesus Christ?

Why did you get so formal when you texted strangers? He’s going to think you’re the same goody-two-shoes all those years ago in chem class. But also, you didn’t need his approval. To be honest, you wanted nothing to do with Rafe. He was a big guy in many ways— his big personality, big presence, big impact. You weren’t sure you could handle it— or that you wanted to. You were quite content with the small circle of people in your life who helped maintain the peace. And Rafe? Rafe is… havoc.

But you also never knew he could be so smooth. All those years of girls chasing him you never thought it was because he had something to offer.

Clearly, you missed out.

The cell phone flew across the room and hit your headboard, plopping into the thin crevice between it and the mattress. His last text clearly had some sort of physical effect on you to the point where you thought that destroying your phone to bits would be better than responding.

Maybe this was a joke. Like a dare. Oh, that would be so cruel— but that was more up his alley, than being this sweet and generous loverboy.

You didn’t want to keep living in this fever dream, so you decided it was best to just call it a night.

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Day four.

You thought that after the text exchange last night, there would be a pause, a hesitance, a break.

But it seemed that Rafe only decided to crank things up. He didn’t see your texts as a sign to back down—no— he saw them as a challenge— to see how far he can push you; see how much you could take.

Outside your doorstep lay a large bouquet of tulips— red tulips. Knowing a little something about flowers and symbolism from English class during your senior year— these indicated love.

Love.

But maybe it wasn’t on purpose. Maybe they were just the first ones he laid his eyes on.

Attached was another note, and another box.

You shut your eyes tight hoping that you were just imagining things. But when you opened them again, the sight hadn’t changed.

Your muscle memory kicked in, and you carried all the presents inside, into the living room. You laid them on the coffee table and dissected each gift one by one.

The box, first.

It was smaller, like one for a ring. Which scared you— because rings could mean many things. Marriages, promises, friendships. None of which applied to you and Rafe.

The velvet box popped open and your assumptions were proven correct. A gold ring to match the necklace and bracelet. You stared at your reflection in the four leaf clover motif.

Your hands trembled and you took out the note next.

“Don’t freak out… just wanted to compliment the set.”

It was like he read your mind. Yes, it’s not like this was a proposal— no, this was a dire fashion choice.

Today was a busy day for you, unfortunately. You didn’t have time to show up at his door and talk some sense into him.

But then again, he clearly didn’t back down when you called him out. So maybe the best way to deal with this is to ignore him.

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By the fifth day—and your lack of reaction to the ring—Rafe was a little more desperate. After the last gift, he’d been sure you’d reach out and scold him like a Sunday school teacher. Which, disturbingly, he found kind of hot and made a mental note to bring up with a professional. Still, he was Rafe Cameron, and when he wanted something, he’d stop at nothing to get it. Nothing. So your silence didn’t make him recoil—it only enticed him more.

Like clockwork, you opened your front door and looked down on the porch.

A box and a note.

More fucking red tulips.

You picked them up and brought them inside. There was only one vase in your entire house which was already occupied by yesterday’s flowers.

The box contained a pair of earrings to match the set. You almost felt dizzy when you mentally calculated the total cost of all his gifts.

Earrings were your favourite accessory and the longer you stared at them, the harder it was to resist putting them on and strutting around your living room.

Next, the note.

“Playing hard to get?

Makes me want you more.”

You read the words again, and again, and again. They made you feel something— a feeling you couldn’t pinpoint.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, opening up your text messages.

Rolling your eyes, you toss your phone aside and got on with your day. You weren’t the type of person whose life is upended because of some guy.

Yeah, he’s just a guy— a guy who’s given you almost twenty thousand dollars worth of gifts without blinking. A guy who has been complimenting and pursuing you like his life depended on it. A guy who's making you feel wanted for the first time in a long time.

You take a deep breath, it’ll all blow over in a few days.

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Oh, how wrong your were.

You audibly gasped when you opened your front door the next day. It seemed that Rafe had run out of accessory ideas, because all there was on your porch was an envelope full of cash. You jumped and picked it up and brought it inside, immediately locking the door. Flipping it over, you read his messy handwriting you'd become so familiar with.

"Does this count as an atrocity or generosity?"

Smoke was coming out of your ears and you were red with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and fucking butterflies.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins had you stomping towards your car with all his gifts, or debts, in hand and placing them in the passenger seat. You were slamming doors left, right, and centre trying to make a statement, but when it came to the gifts, you gently wrapped a seatbelt around them. It disrupted your flow, but your bank account couldn't take the hit if anything was damaged.

White-knuckling the steering wheel all the way to Tannyhill, you took shallow breaths and practiced your assertive voice.

Today it would all end. Finally.

When you pulled up to the house, you noticed Rafe was outside, on the grass, speaking into his cellphone. Without a care in the world, you drove up his driveway and noticed his brows shoot up, wondering who you were. Then when you got out of the car, frantically, his brows returned to their spot and a smirk settled across his face.

You slammed the door and walked up to him with the envelope of cash clutched in your hand. He hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket, without saying goodbye.

"What is this?" The assertive voice went out the window, and instead you sounded shrill. But Rafe didn't seem to mind at all— if anything, he was intrigued... and a little turned on.

He looked from your eyes, to your lips, and then to the envelope. "Generosity?"

You clicked your tongue in frustration and responded, "this isn't funny! I told you to stop."

He was about to say something, but you cut him off and began pacing on the lawn.

"— and this? Cash? Are you insane? What if someone saw? They'd think I was a drug dealer or something!" You ran your hand through your hair almost ripping it out of your scalp.

"No one would think that." He shrugged.

You stared at him like he grew a second head.

"Is that the only thing you took away from what I said?" The vein in your forehead was about to pop.

"No, I heard the whole thing— but I just had to let you know that you don't give off the drug dealer vibe."

"Oh!" You let out a short, hysterical laugh. "Oh, that is so good to know. I'm so glad we got that cleared up." You exclaimed with biting sarcasm.

Rafe was finding you more entertaining than any TV show he'd binged in the past, well, ever. He could watch you all day and listen to you yell at him for an embarrassingly long time.

He finally spoke up with the question he'd been meaning to ask since the night of spin the bottle.

"Go out with me."

You halted in your maniacal pacing— you were sure you'd dug a hole in his lawn at this point. You looked up at him with eyes basically bulging out of your head.

"What?" Your voice reached a pitch that only a dog could hear.

He chuckled, "go out with me."

He couldn't have been real. What human being was this shameless and infuriating? If you had told yourself last week that the Rafe Cameron would be acting like a lovesick child for you, you'd laugh and laugh until you fainted.

You scoffed in disbelief and replied, "are you serious?" You scoffed again and then just gasped like you were out of breath. "What— you— what? You think you can just buy my affection?"

His amused eyes never left you once. He didn't blink— not wanting to miss even a second of this conversation with you.

"No, but I can buy your attention right? Because," he smiled and stepped closer, "you're here."

Without hesitation, you took a step back and distanced yourself, to Rafe's dismay. But he was patient when it came to you, so he stayed still.

You were speechless. How does one respond to that?

He tilts his head, "cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head, "I only came buy to return everything to you. Nothing more."

With that, you head towards your car and bring out the stack of boxes from the passenger seat. You walk back to him to hand them off. But he doesn't budge, instead just putting his hands in his pockets with a smug look.

What a little—

"Rafe." You say sternly.

He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue.

"Y/N." He mimics your tone.

You sigh and hold the boxes out again, "please. I can't accept them."

He shakes his head, "I bought them for you. I'm not taking anything back."

With a groan you reply, "I don't want them! I- I don't want this— whatever this is— between us."

Rafe was slightly discouraged with your words, but he told himself that you were just desperate, and would say anything to convince him. He knew a little something about that.

Light bulb.

"Okay," he crosses his arms over his chest.

You blink surprised, "okay?"

He nods, "I'll take them back if you go out with me—"

You roll your eyes and exhale heavily, but he continues.

"— just one date. One dinner. And I'll prove to you that you do want this— whatever this is— between us."

"Rafe, there's no point in going through all that hassle—"

"One dinner. And if by the end you still— for some reason— aren't completely in love with me, then I'll leave you alone."

You paused and narrowed your eyes at him. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nods.

This is it. This was your shot.

"Deal."

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This was initially supposed to be one-shot but got wayyy too long!! But there will be another part to this soon!

Thank you for reading <33

Let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see in the second part as I'm still brainstorming what should happen :)))

[leonalovesalot]

Hehehe I’m kicking my feet I’ll be there <33

Just gotta show you that I'm the one I

RafeCameron x Reader

In which you kiss Rafe during a game of spin the bottle, and he can't seem to leave you alone after.

wc: 7.1k

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The bass of the music made your whole body vibrate with adrenaline— that and the alcohol. It was the first party of the summer yet, everyone celebrated like it was the last. You rarely showed up to things like this, but after a difficult semester and a tough breakup, you figured you deserved to let loose. That’s what you kept telling yourself—to drown out the badgering thought that if you’d just been good enough, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself cheated on.

You shake your head like you were trying to get the thoughts to fall from your ears, and gulped down another Jell-O shot. Your fourth one of the night.

When you set the shot glass down, your arm was yanked and your body was being dragged over to the door leading down to the basement.

“Soph, where’re you taking me?” You giggled at the end of your question, which was confusing because nothing was funny. But you heard from friends that when you got drunk, it was a laugh fest.

“Basement— they’re playing spin the bottle.” She held you tight and guided you down the stairs. Leaning closer to whisper in your ear, she says, “maybe I’ll get to kiss Caleb.” She almost squealed with excitement.

Lots of people were laughing and chit chatting as they sat down in a poorly formed circle. You found an empty space next to Topper, who smiled politely at you. At that moment, you remembered that alcohol also made you very affectionate. You didn’t know Topper all that well and you still reached out and pinched his cheek in response. He was taken aback, but didn’t say anything.

“Alright, everyone knows the rules. If the bottle lands on you, you gotta give the spinner a big ol’ kiss. Capeesh?” Kelce announced to everyone, and looked around to make sure they were on the same page.

Nods and hums filled the room and an empty corona bottle was placed in the middle of the circle.

Kelce went first.

Everyone stared at the bottle in anticipation. Some dreading it landing on them, while others prayed to a higher being that they’d get to kiss Kelce. You, on the other hand, just looked up and around the room at everyone since the spinning bottle was making you dizzy.

Cheers sounded through the basement as the bottle finally chose. It landed on Kelce’s ex-girlfriend, Madison. Everyone whooped and laughed at how unbelievably perfect it was. Kelce was in disbelief and Madison looked like she regretted coming to the party. But rules were rules and also, people were too drunk to realize they had free will and could back out.

A perverse smile was slapped across your face, along with everyone else, at the sight of Kelce and Madison leaning in. Their breakup was the talk of the town as neither of them were the type to keep a low profile. The arguments in the streets to screenshots posted all over social media made this whole situation funnier.

The two leaned in and kissed each other for a split second before going right back to their spots. The group booed at the lack of commitment, but the ex-couple didn’t seem to care.

Madison’s turn.

The group once again glued their eyes to the spinning glass bottle. Your eyes wandered and took in everyone’s appearances— just a bunch of horny kooks, and you were no different. It had been a while since you’d got some action— or any proper action. It was embarrassing to admit but, technically, you were a virgin. You’d done everything but the big “P” for penetration— always interrupted. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t miss the closeness. Lips on your lips. Hands in your hair.

"Oh shit! Didn't know we'd get some girl-on-girl tonight!" A voice hollered from across the circle and you tuned back into the game.

Madison's bottle landed on Jade.

It was kind of perfect, actually. The one thing you remembered about Jade was how, one time in high school, you caught her checking you out after gym. You thought a lot about her after that— wondering what the curious stare meant back then.

Seeing her now—unflinching, ready to kiss Madison—confirmed your suspicions, and you mentally patted yourself on the back.

The two leaned in pressed their lips against one another. The crowd cheered and whistled as the girls got deeper into it. Your brows raised slightly as you were surprised at how long the kiss was. It was messy too— you could see a little tongue. Madison was practically swallowing Jade like she was trying to get any trace of Kelce off of her. You took a deep breath and looked away as you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks.

"Now that's what 'm talking about!"

The girls pulled away, sitting back down with shy smiles and flushed faces. They avoided each others' eyes and the group nudged them, finding the whole situation funny.

Jade's turn.

She spun the bottle without hesitation and stared at it intensely. She was quite attractive, with her dark hair and piercing eyes—so naturally, everyone was kind of hoping the bottle would choose them. You included. You laughed at the thought. God, I'm drunk.

The bottle began to slow its rotation and finally came to a halt. The loud, boisterous kooks somehow grew even louder and more boisterous. Your eyes trailed from the neck of the bottle to the legs of the person sitting cross-legged, up their torso, and finally to their face

Rafe Cameron.

The reaction of the crowd was understandable.

Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

What to say about him?

He was the personification of the word "kook". During his teenage years, he was like a tyrant. Most people stayed out of his way because of his unpredictability and short fuse. You always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt considering how he was raised, but he didn't always make that so easy. With all this in mind, it's worth mentioning that now, as an adult, he was doing better. His belligerent days were behind him, and he had calmed down quite a bit. You don't remember the last time you heard of him beating someone bloody. Nowadays, when he'd come back from college, he'd work with his Father during the day, and let loose during the night. Still, you didn't forget about the person he was. No one did. Tensed shoulders and hushed whispers still arose at the mention of Rafe's name, and it would be a while before that changed.

Rafe was nonchalant. When the bottle landed on him, he held up his index and middle finger to motion for Jade to come closer to him. You watched with your Jell-O shot riddled mind— which had you thinking he was very sexy at that moment. Jade licked her lips and leaned forward on all fours— ready for it. Rafe's hand found the back of her neck and he pressed his lips to hers. The room erupted in cheers and you covered your ears at the volume. Your eyes stayed on Rafe and Jade and you shamelessly wondered how it would feel to kiss him. Despite his rough appearance, his lips were soft and pink.

They look delicious.

The kiss was short and clean. Nothing like the one before, and a part of you was surprised. Rafe pulled away first and sat back down, taking a swig of his drink.

Now you were a little intrigued— more alert. Moving your pupils side-to-side, you counted the heads in the circle and rounded up to about fifteen participants. There were also lots more people in the room, just as spectators, and they were at the edge of their seats. There was like a 7% chance that you’d be the one the bottle landed on— slim odds, but not impossible.

“I hope it doesn’t land on me,” Sofia whispers in your ear.

You nodded, even though you couldn’t really hear what she said over the drumroll sounding through the room.

Rafe held the bottle with his left hand and spun it with a sharp flick of the wrist. He stared at it closely. You wondered if he was mentally hoping that it would land on someone specific. There was no way to tell just by studying his face.

Again, the bottle began to slow down in momentum, and everyone knew it was going to choose the next participant soon. It was an exciting feeling— a lot more amplified during this round than the ones before. And that was the power of Rafe.

The bottle stopped spinning.

You looked at it and followed its path. You heard Sofia gasp right next to you.

The bottle pointed right between you and her.

The crowd groaned and then started weighing in on what should be done. Everyone talked over one another trying to reach a consensus.

All this over a game of spin the bottle.

You swallowed and looked across the circle at Rafe, whose eyes were already on you. It made you flinch in surprise and you quickly averted your gaze back to the bottle. You pretended to think about a way to solve the impossible equation.

Hmm, maybe he could spin again?

While you were busy pretending to look deep in thought, Rafe had already made up his mind. Ignoring all the opinions of those around him, he reached forward and shifted the bottle an inch so it was pointing directly at you.

Now you were the one gasping, as Sofia let out a sigh of relief.

Your eyes remained fixed on the bottle as the crowd got rowdy once again. Because this wasn’t as uneventful as a re-spin. No— this time, the bottle didn’t choose you.

Rafe did.

It felt like the first time ever in spin the bottle history for something like that to happen. And that’s why everyone was shouting, cheering, and feeling oh so lucky to be witnesses. Because now there were layers to this game. It raised questions. Like, why did he choose you over Sofia? Or, had he been hoping it would land on you all along?

Whatever it was, you didn’t have time to think about it right now. Because the game was still ongoing.

And this time, Rafe was the one moving closer. He was actually putting in the effort to come to you. This had you slightly impressed and also feeling a little funny. You felt Sofia pat you on the back as a sign of encouragement. So you slowly moved towards him too. Quickly running your tongue over your lips, you scooted forward and he met you before you got to the middle.

Impatient?

Eager?

Coming face-to-face with him was— and you don't say this lightly— breathtaking. You could sit there for days trying to find a flaw, and still come up short. He was simply perfect. With alluring eyes and pink lips, it was no surprise that everyone fawned over him all his life.

The group chanted your names like you guys were athletes or something. It had your veins coursing with adrenaline, and you weren't sure if you enjoyed that feeling or not. You were never used to being the centre of attention, but Rafe was. And that somehow comforted you.

Rafe did everything at his own pace—peer pressure never got to him. Finally, with a curl of his lip, he tilted his head and leaned forward, closing the distance. His lips met yours and he corrected his angle to better feel them. Your initial instinct was to freeze and just let him do all the work. But then you realized that this opportunity wouldn’t present itself again— it’s not like you’d want to be anywhere near Rafe when you’re sober. So why not make the most of it now, and give people a show?

Your blood alcohol content provided you with the boost that you needed. While Rafe took his time to suck on your bottom lip, you brought your hands to the sides of his cheeks and held him like he was the most precious artifact in the world. When he felt your touch, he moaned all breathy into the kiss—just for you to hear. You took that chance to deepen the kiss and swipe the inside of his mouth with your tongue, which he gladly welcomed.

The crowd’s cheers didn’t die down once. If anything, they got louder.

When you felt satisfied with your little risk of the day, you pulled back. Rafe, for a moment, had forgotten where he was and reflexively leaned forward to catch your missing touch. But when it wasn't there, he opened his eyes and noticed you’d sat back down at your spot. Topper reached forward and shook his shoulder, exclaiming, “dude, that was crazy!” Rafe just took a few seconds to catch his breath and then returned to his spot. His fingers kept finding his way back to his lips to settle the tingling feeling that was so prominent there.

You were out of breath too, but the game wasn’t over.

So you reached for the bottle to continue your turn. Grabbing it between your fingers and thumb, you gave it a hard spin and kneeled before it.

It was hard concentrating on the game after what you just did, and your thoughts were now filled with Rafe Cameron. Just as your mind was occupied with him, your eyes wanted to be included too. So you briefly look away from the bottle, and to Rafe, only to see him standing up and leaving. A few people seemed to ask him where he was going, but he just shook his head in response.

It was almost like he didn’t want to watch you kiss someone else.

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The morning, or afternoon, brought the blaring sun and a miserable hangover. You barely stumbled out of your bed at half past noon, and threw up on your way to the shower. The regret set in as the water hit your skin, and you cringed as your mind played a recap of the night.

Images of the party, the solo cups, and the wasted kooks all came flashing through when you closed your eyes. However, they shot open when you remembered the spin the bottle game.

Oh god. I full on made out with Rafe.

You weren’t sure how you felt about the whole situation. Sure, it was just a game and there was no need for further complication. But you weren’t the type to just kiss anyone at anytime. All the people you’d been with were ones you’d intended to pursue, and date, and all that. Seeing as how that was the last thing you wanted with Rafe, it was hard to wrap your head around the act of doing something so intimate with someone who you’d never really talk to again.

Is this what adulthood is?

Is this what hook-up culture is like?

You didn’t care for it. But it made things easier that the only two people you kissed last night were ones you wouldn’t cross paths with again.

After Rafe left, your next kiss was with Caleb. Yes, the Caleb that Sofia was praying she’d get. It made things quite awkward and you apologized profusely to her before, and after, you quickly gave him a peck. You earned boo’s from the crowd but you didn’t really care because your friendship came before all that. So Caleb was off the table, and back to being a stranger.

Rafe is the same too. Before last night, the only time you remembered interacting with him was during chemistry (which he was repeating), when you got partnered up for a lab. It was mostly forgettable besides the part where he made you do the whole experiment and lab report on your own, which had you furious. But he made up for it by presenting it to the class, knowing you were too shy to do so. Oh, and he’d also grab you the goggles and lab coat every time. So… that was quite nice of him.

Nevertheless, that was almost four years ago. Now you two went to different universities and lived different lives. He took the business route, and you took arts— couldn’t be more different. There was nothing to worry about then. Last night would blend in with the rest of the nights to come and, soon, you would forget the feeling of his lips on yours, and the quiet desperation he had for you.

Stepping out of the shower, you felt a lot better. Cold showers were the cure to everything.

You headed down to the kitchen, trying to satiate the growling of your stomach. The fridge was full of leftovers from last night that your mom so kindly packed up for you. It was a shame you were too nauseous to eat anything too heavy. So you stuck to some cold cereal and walked over to the table to begin eating.

A doorbell made you flinch and stand up. You peaked out the window and noticed a van had dropped off a package for you. Maybe it was those shoes you ordered two weeks ago. Finally some good news.

Walking over to the front door you opened it to see the shoes truly had arrived. You bent down to pick up the box and noticed a small envelope leaned against the wooden railing of the porch. It didn’t seem to have come with the shoes. No, they were placed too far apart. And this envelope had your name written on it. Not in any fancy letters, just simple penmanship.

You furrow your brows, pick up both things, and head into the house.

The shoes could wait now that your intrigue was stolen by the envelope. It was black too. You didn’t even know they made them in that colour.

Slowly and carefully, you slid your fingernails under the flap and lifted it, trying your best not to tear anything. It felt expensive.

Maybe it’s an invitation to midsummer.

No, but then Mom and Dad would’ve gotten one too.

After successfully opening it without any damage, you peaked inside. There was just a slip of paper. Not just your common printer paper though— this was thicker. Like card-stock.

Your index and thumb pinched the top of it and took it out of the envelope. One side, the side you saw first, was blank. The other just had a small message written on it.

“That was some kiss.”

You stared at the card and read the words over and over again until you were seeing them in between blinks. Who could possibly send such a thing? And why?

Was it Caleb?

It was Caleb, wasn’t it?

Fuck, this is all so wrong! He’s not yours to claim and you weren’t his. Sofia would be distraught and the thought of that made you feel like you could puke again.

You slam the card down, and grab your car keys. Time to pay Caleb a little visit to nip this in the bud.

All you knew about him was that he recently started working the morning shift at the Wreck. He should still be there if you drove fast enough.

You pulled into the parking space and marched into the restaurant like you were on a life or death mission— which is what it felt like in the moment.

Your head turned from side-to-side quickly as your eyes scanned the place. They zeroed in when you spotted him behind the counter. Your legs moved and dragged the rest of you along. You placed the envelope on the counter and waited for him to notice you.

“Y/N, hey, what can I getcha?” Caleb picked up the plate from the customer before you and walked it over to the kitchen in the back. He returned with a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m not here to eat, Caleb.” You slid the envelope forward.

He furrowed his brows and looked down at it. “What’s this? Are you trying to bribe me or something?” He chuckles.

Look at him being all oblivious.

You narrow your eyes. “You know what it is. This- you can’t be sending me stuff like this.”

He was speechless, not having a clue of what you were on about. He looked down at the envelope again, then back at you and said, “Y/N, I have never seen this before. Ever.”

You scoff in disbelief. “At least own up to it— I mean come on! I came all the way here and—”

“Dude, I’ve been waiting for my sandwich forever.”

A voice cuts you off and steals Caleb’s attention. You turn to the sound and see Rafe behind you. Quickly you turn back and stare ahead, hoping he didn’t recognize you.

“Sorry, I’ll get on that.” Caleb shot Rafe an apologetic look and turned to you to quietly say, “promise I didn’t send you that.”

You weren’t sure if you trusted him. He could’ve just been too nervous to admit it. Maybe he wasn’t the confrontational type. Who knows?

With a sigh, and your head hung low, you walk out of the restaurant without glancing at anyone else.

If it was Caleb—and you knew it was—then your reaction would’ve made it clear to him that you weren’t into it. Which meant mission accomplished, because you only came to the Wreck to shut this down before it got out of hand.

On the drive home, there was still a feeling of dissatisfaction gnawing at you. Because, although, you were set on Caleb being the culprit, there was something about the sincerity in his voice that made you think otherwise.

He could've been a theatre kid— lots of time to perfect his acting.

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The next morning you were feeling a lot better without the life-altering hangover. To add to the great morning, you also woke up with zero thoughts of the mystery-of-the-card-giver— which sounded like poorly written Agatha Christie novel.

A new summer day came with so much potential, and so much daylight. You planned to run a few errands with your Dad and then catch a movie with Sofia. It was the perfect balance of productivity and relaxation, and you were ready to get on with it.

First on the list was picking your Dad up from the auto body shop a few blocks away. He had to leave his car with the mechanics because of a recent, harmless, fender bender.

You pull on your shorts and a band tee of a group you couldn't name three songs of, and head out the door. You stepped onto the porch and noticed a black box at the last minute, which made you stumble and roll your ankle. "Ow shit!" Leaning against the doorframe, you reached for your ankle and rubbed the area with the shooting pain. After trying, and failing, to massage that pain away, you let go and reached for the box.

You were already annoyed, and you had a feeling that the contents of this box would only exacerbate that. Holding it in your hands, it wasn't too heavy or too big. It was sleek, rectangular, and... velvet? So definitely not cheap.

Great.

You walked over to the porch swing and placed it in your lap.

What is Caleb's game here?

Pressing on the small golden button to make the lid pop up, you were gasping at the sight before you. A gold chain bracelet. You recognized the motifs on it— five of them. All four leaf clover shaped. Black. A vintage Van Cleef.

Holy shit these are like seven thousand dollars.

You felt like you had forgotten how to breathe. Quickly, you shut the box and place it next to you on the swing– afraid you'd break it.

Who in their right mind would carelessly spend money like this?

Caleb was rich, but not this rich. How could he shell out seven g's on you after just a peck that lasted like half a millisecond? He was clearly taking the whole "hopeless romantic" title too far.

Your phone buzzed and you checked to see that your Dad had texted you asking of your whereabouts. Snapping out of the daze, you put the box inside and leave for the auto body shop.

The whole day you felt a strange weight on your shoulders. Your love language wasn't receiving gifts, and so this made you very uncomfortable. The price too! You wouldn't accept it even if it was given to you by your husband of fifty years! (Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. But still.)

And the worst part was that you couldn't talk to Sofia about it as it would kill her.

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You got no sleep last night. Just tossing and turning as the bracelet stared at you from your nightstand. Eyeing you with its slick chain and shiny motifs. It was truly a sight to see and you were already starting to feel upset at the thought of parting with it.

So you decided to rip off the bandaid, and give it back to Caleb right away. Did you try it on a few times? Yes. Did you consider just keeping it because it was a gift for you and you deserved something nice? Yes.

But ultimately, the cost of the thing made you too nervous, and returning it was the right thing to do.

You were dressed for the day and ready to head out. Before opening the door, you took a deep breath and mentally prayed that there wouldn't be another expensive present awaiting you. You didn't know what you'd do if there was just a Rolls-Royce in your driveway. Mainly because you wouldn't know how to return it.

Unlocking the door, and opening it just a teeny bit, you peaked your head out and looked down.

Shit.

Another box. This one was square shaped and it had a small envelope attached.

Where does Caleb find the time?

You reluctantly picked it up and brought it inside. A few moments of mental debate began to take place as you couldn’t decide whether to open it or not. What if you got too attached?

The envelope sat there on your coffee table and you were dreading the thought of another flirtatious line. You thought you had been stern with Caleb the other day. And yet here was evidence that your plan had backfired.

You bite the bullet and tear open the envelope without a care this time. Inside was a small note again.

“For your pretty neck.”

You furrow your brows and notice your stomach felt funny. You turn to the box, finally, and open it to find a matching necklace to your bracelet. Oh my. Oh no. Oh, this has gone too far.

Hitting up the Wreck twice in three days was rare for you. You typically didn’t like going there because of potential run-ins with old classmates you felt awkward around. But this was important stuff! You were being showered with expensive jewelry! And it had to stop.

On your angry march into the restaurant, you were mentally rehearsing a long and scary speech you’d say to Caleb. Drop words like “impermissible” and “cease!”

“Didn’t like the necklace, huh?”

You froze. It felt like the Looney Toons when a character was sprinting with smoke coming from their legs and then stop with that horrible tire screeching sound. A chill ran up your back because that voice… that voice didn’t belong to Caleb. No. It belonged to Rafe. You stood there for a few seconds, right in front of the doors. Then you took a deep breath, and turned around to Rafe who was standing behind you.

A million things could’ve been said but for some reason you settled on, “what— uhm— what’re you talking about?”

You flinched from surprise when he let out a short, but genuine, laugh.

“You know what.” He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks his brow at you.

Before you could respond, your phone rang in your pocket. You look down and fish out your phone, shooting him an apologetic look. It was Sofia.

When you glanced back up, Rafe had walked off with Kelce. And you were left with your hummingbird heartbeat and Sofia’s voice ranting about another annoying incident involving her coworker.

Her words went in one ear, and out the other. The only thing you could think about right now was how it was Rafe all along. The note. The jewelry.

For your pretty neck.

What in the actual hell.

You had never thought to suspect him because you didn’t think he actually had… feelings? Like human emotions? Like did he actually want you to like him? Was he capable of longing for a person? Unless that’s not what this was— maybe he just wanted to get laid. In the midst of this busy schedule, he probably didn’t have much time to get his rocks off. And maybe that’s why he needed you. To be there as a stress reliever. And he most likely thought you’d be more than up for it considering the way you kissed him. Like it was your last day on earth. Practically sucking face.

Oh god.

Later that night you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. There were too many questions on your mind. Along with those, of course, was a fluttering feeing in your stomach. Because even though you didn’t know his intentions, a part of you felt like you were actually being pursued. Like your attention was a valuable prize. A goal.

But this had already gone too far. And you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing something else on your doorstep tomorrow morning.

Maybe I should just stop leaving the house.

You shake your head and knock some sense into yourself. It’s time to take matters into your own hands! Sure, in person, you couldn’t get a word out to Rafe because of his intimidating presence (and hot face). But you could shoot him a text. There was more confidence behind the screen without his eyes swallowing you up.

You grab your cellphone.

You stood up and paced around your bedroom. Okay, all you have to do is send a strongly-worded text. Words. On a screen. You’ll be fine! It’s just a text! It’s not like he can reach through the screen and touch you, right? That kind of technology wouldn't come into existence overnight.

You took deep breaths as you typed his phone number into your cell. Okay. Okay. You can do this. Words on a screen. Words. Letters.

You stared at the message in horror, but sent it anyway. Why in the world were you texting like you needed a moment to talk about your lord and saviour Jesus Christ?

Why did you get so formal when you texted strangers? He’s going to think you’re the same goody-two-shoes all those years ago in chem class. But also, you didn’t need his approval. To be honest, you wanted nothing to do with Rafe. He was a big guy in many ways— his big personality, big presence, big impact. You weren’t sure you could handle it— or that you wanted to. You were quite content with the small circle of people in your life who helped maintain the peace. And Rafe? Rafe is… havoc.

But you also never knew he could be so smooth. All those years of girls chasing him you never thought it was because he had something to offer.

Clearly, you missed out.

The cell phone flew across the room and hit your headboard, plopping into the thin crevice between it and the mattress. His last text clearly had some sort of physical effect on you to the point where you thought that destroying your phone to bits would be better than responding.

Maybe this was a joke. Like a dare. Oh, that would be so cruel— but that was more up his alley, than being this sweet and generous loverboy.

You didn’t want to keep living in this fever dream, so you decided it was best to just call it a night.

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Day four.

You thought that after the text exchange last night, there would be a pause, a hesitance, a break.

But it seemed that Rafe only decided to crank things up. He didn’t see your texts as a sign to back down—no— he saw them as a challenge— to see how far he can push you; see how much you could take.

Outside your doorstep lay a large bouquet of tulips— red tulips. Knowing a little something about flowers and symbolism from English class during your senior year— these indicated love.

Love.

But maybe it wasn’t on purpose. Maybe they were just the first ones he laid his eyes on.

Attached was another note, and another box.

You shut your eyes tight hoping that you were just imagining things. But when you opened them again, the sight hadn’t changed.

Your muscle memory kicked in, and you carried all the presents inside, into the living room. You laid them on the coffee table and dissected each gift one by one.

The box, first.

It was smaller, like one for a ring. Which scared you— because rings could mean many things. Marriages, promises, friendships. None of which applied to you and Rafe.

The velvet box popped open and your assumptions were proven correct. A gold ring to match the necklace and bracelet. You stared at your reflection in the four leaf clover motif.

Your hands trembled and you took out the note next.

“Don’t freak out… just wanted to compliment the set.”

It was like he read your mind. Yes, it’s not like this was a proposal— no, this was a dire fashion choice.

Today was a busy day for you, unfortunately. You didn’t have time to show up at his door and talk some sense into him.

But then again, he clearly didn’t back down when you called him out. So maybe the best way to deal with this is to ignore him.

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By the fifth day—and your lack of reaction to the ring—Rafe was a little more desperate. After the last gift, he’d been sure you’d reach out and scold him like a Sunday school teacher. Which, disturbingly, he found kind of hot and made a mental note to bring up with a professional. Still, he was Rafe Cameron, and when he wanted something, he’d stop at nothing to get it. Nothing. So your silence didn’t make him recoil—it only enticed him more.

Like clockwork, you opened your front door and looked down on the porch.

A box and a note.

More fucking red tulips.

You picked them up and brought them inside. There was only one vase in your entire house which was already occupied by yesterday’s flowers.

The box contained a pair of earrings to match the set. You almost felt dizzy when you mentally calculated the total cost of all his gifts.

Earrings were your favourite accessory and the longer you stared at them, the harder it was to resist putting them on and strutting around your living room.

Next, the note.

“Playing hard to get?

Makes me want you more.”

You read the words again, and again, and again. They made you feel something— a feeling you couldn’t pinpoint.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, opening up your text messages.

Rolling your eyes, you toss your phone aside and got on with your day. You weren’t the type of person whose life is upended because of some guy.

Yeah, he’s just a guy— a guy who’s given you almost twenty thousand dollars worth of gifts without blinking. A guy who has been complimenting and pursuing you like his life depended on it. A guy who's making you feel wanted for the first time in a long time.

You take a deep breath, it’ll all blow over in a few days.

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Oh, how wrong your were.

You audibly gasped when you opened your front door the next day. It seemed that Rafe had run out of accessory ideas, because all there was on your porch was an envelope full of cash. You jumped and picked it up and brought it inside, immediately locking the door. Flipping it over, you read his messy handwriting you'd become so familiar with.

"Does this count as an atrocity or generosity?"

Smoke was coming out of your ears and you were red with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and fucking butterflies.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins had you stomping towards your car with all his gifts, or debts, in hand and placing them in the passenger seat. You were slamming doors left, right, and centre trying to make a statement, but when it came to the gifts, you gently wrapped a seatbelt around them. It disrupted your flow, but your bank account couldn't take the hit if anything was damaged.

White-knuckling the steering wheel all the way to Tannyhill, you took shallow breaths and practiced your assertive voice.

Today it would all end. Finally.

When you pulled up to the house, you noticed Rafe was outside, on the grass, speaking into his cellphone. Without a care in the world, you drove up his driveway and noticed his brows shoot up, wondering who you were. Then when you got out of the car, frantically, his brows returned to their spot and a smirk settled across his face.

You slammed the door and walked up to him with the envelope of cash clutched in your hand. He hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket, without saying goodbye.

"What is this?" The assertive voice went out the window, and instead you sounded shrill. But Rafe didn't seem to mind at all— if anything, he was intrigued... and a little turned on.

He looked from your eyes, to your lips, and then to the envelope. "Generosity?"

You clicked your tongue in frustration and responded, "this isn't funny! I told you to stop."

He was about to say something, but you cut him off and began pacing on the lawn.

"— and this? Cash? Are you insane? What if someone saw? They'd think I was a drug dealer or something!" You ran your hand through your hair almost ripping it out of your scalp.

"No one would think that." He shrugged.

You stared at him like he grew a second head.

"Is that the only thing you took away from what I said?" The vein in your forehead was about to pop.

"No, I heard the whole thing— but I just had to let you know that you don't give off the drug dealer vibe."

"Oh!" You let out a short, hysterical laugh. "Oh, that is so good to know. I'm so glad we got that cleared up." You exclaimed with biting sarcasm.

Rafe was finding you more entertaining than any TV show he'd binged in the past, well, ever. He could watch you all day and listen to you yell at him for an embarrassingly long time.

He finally spoke up with the question he'd been meaning to ask since the night of spin the bottle.

"Go out with me."

You halted in your maniacal pacing— you were sure you'd dug a hole in his lawn at this point. You looked up at him with eyes basically bulging out of your head.

"What?" Your voice reached a pitch that only a dog could hear.

He chuckled, "go out with me."

He couldn't have been real. What human being was this shameless and infuriating? If you had told yourself last week that the Rafe Cameron would be acting like a lovesick child for you, you'd laugh and laugh until you fainted.

You scoffed in disbelief and replied, "are you serious?" You scoffed again and then just gasped like you were out of breath. "What— you— what? You think you can just buy my affection?"

His amused eyes never left you once. He didn't blink— not wanting to miss even a second of this conversation with you.

"No, but I can buy your attention right? Because," he smiled and stepped closer, "you're here."

Without hesitation, you took a step back and distanced yourself, to Rafe's dismay. But he was patient when it came to you, so he stayed still.

You were speechless. How does one respond to that?

He tilts his head, "cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head, "I only came buy to return everything to you. Nothing more."

With that, you head towards your car and bring out the stack of boxes from the passenger seat. You walk back to him to hand them off. But he doesn't budge, instead just putting his hands in his pockets with a smug look.

What a little—

"Rafe." You say sternly.

He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue.

"Y/N." He mimics your tone.

You sigh and hold the boxes out again, "please. I can't accept them."

He shakes his head, "I bought them for you. I'm not taking anything back."

With a groan you reply, "I don't want them! I- I don't want this— whatever this is— between us."

Rafe was slightly discouraged with your words, but he told himself that you were just desperate, and would say anything to convince him. He knew a little something about that.

Light bulb.

"Okay," he crosses his arms over his chest.

You blink surprised, "okay?"

He nods, "I'll take them back if you go out with me—"

You roll your eyes and exhale heavily, but he continues.

"— just one date. One dinner. And I'll prove to you that you do want this— whatever this is— between us."

"Rafe, there's no point in going through all that hassle—"

"One dinner. And if by the end you still— for some reason— aren't completely in love with me, then I'll leave you alone."

You paused and narrowed your eyes at him. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nods.

This is it. This was your shot.

"Deal."

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This was initially supposed to be one-shot but got wayyy too long!! But there will be another part to this soon!

Thank you for reading <33

Let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see in the second part as I'm still brainstorming what should happen :)))

[leonalovesalot]

It’s not too early?? And I love you too?? When’s the wedding??

Just gotta show you that I'm the one I

RafeCameron x Reader

In which you kiss Rafe during a game of spin the bottle, and he can't seem to leave you alone after.

wc: 7.1k

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The bass of the music made your whole body vibrate with adrenaline— that and the alcohol. It was the first party of the summer yet, everyone celebrated like it was the last. You rarely showed up to things like this, but after a difficult semester and a tough breakup, you figured you deserved to let loose. That’s what you kept telling yourself—to drown out the badgering thought that if you’d just been good enough, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself cheated on.

You shake your head like you were trying to get the thoughts to fall from your ears, and gulped down another Jell-O shot. Your fourth one of the night.

When you set the shot glass down, your arm was yanked and your body was being dragged over to the door leading down to the basement.

“Soph, where’re you taking me?” You giggled at the end of your question, which was confusing because nothing was funny. But you heard from friends that when you got drunk, it was a laugh fest.

“Basement— they’re playing spin the bottle.” She held you tight and guided you down the stairs. Leaning closer to whisper in your ear, she says, “maybe I’ll get to kiss Caleb.” She almost squealed with excitement.

Lots of people were laughing and chit chatting as they sat down in a poorly formed circle. You found an empty space next to Topper, who smiled politely at you. At that moment, you remembered that alcohol also made you very affectionate. You didn’t know Topper all that well and you still reached out and pinched his cheek in response. He was taken aback, but didn’t say anything.

“Alright, everyone knows the rules. If the bottle lands on you, you gotta give the spinner a big ol’ kiss. Capeesh?” Kelce announced to everyone, and looked around to make sure they were on the same page.

Nods and hums filled the room and an empty corona bottle was placed in the middle of the circle.

Kelce went first.

Everyone stared at the bottle in anticipation. Some dreading it landing on them, while others prayed to a higher being that they’d get to kiss Kelce. You, on the other hand, just looked up and around the room at everyone since the spinning bottle was making you dizzy.

Cheers sounded through the basement as the bottle finally chose. It landed on Kelce’s ex-girlfriend, Madison. Everyone whooped and laughed at how unbelievably perfect it was. Kelce was in disbelief and Madison looked like she regretted coming to the party. But rules were rules and also, people were too drunk to realize they had free will and could back out.

A perverse smile was slapped across your face, along with everyone else, at the sight of Kelce and Madison leaning in. Their breakup was the talk of the town as neither of them were the type to keep a low profile. The arguments in the streets to screenshots posted all over social media made this whole situation funnier.

The two leaned in and kissed each other for a split second before going right back to their spots. The group booed at the lack of commitment, but the ex-couple didn’t seem to care.

Madison’s turn.

The group once again glued their eyes to the spinning glass bottle. Your eyes wandered and took in everyone’s appearances— just a bunch of horny kooks, and you were no different. It had been a while since you’d got some action— or any proper action. It was embarrassing to admit but, technically, you were a virgin. You’d done everything but the big “P” for penetration— always interrupted. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t miss the closeness. Lips on your lips. Hands in your hair.

"Oh shit! Didn't know we'd get some girl-on-girl tonight!" A voice hollered from across the circle and you tuned back into the game.

Madison's bottle landed on Jade.

It was kind of perfect, actually. The one thing you remembered about Jade was how, one time in high school, you caught her checking you out after gym. You thought a lot about her after that— wondering what the curious stare meant back then.

Seeing her now—unflinching, ready to kiss Madison—confirmed your suspicions, and you mentally patted yourself on the back.

The two leaned in pressed their lips against one another. The crowd cheered and whistled as the girls got deeper into it. Your brows raised slightly as you were surprised at how long the kiss was. It was messy too— you could see a little tongue. Madison was practically swallowing Jade like she was trying to get any trace of Kelce off of her. You took a deep breath and looked away as you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks.

"Now that's what 'm talking about!"

The girls pulled away, sitting back down with shy smiles and flushed faces. They avoided each others' eyes and the group nudged them, finding the whole situation funny.

Jade's turn.

She spun the bottle without hesitation and stared at it intensely. She was quite attractive, with her dark hair and piercing eyes—so naturally, everyone was kind of hoping the bottle would choose them. You included. You laughed at the thought. God, I'm drunk.

The bottle began to slow its rotation and finally came to a halt. The loud, boisterous kooks somehow grew even louder and more boisterous. Your eyes trailed from the neck of the bottle to the legs of the person sitting cross-legged, up their torso, and finally to their face

Rafe Cameron.

The reaction of the crowd was understandable.

Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

What to say about him?

He was the personification of the word "kook". During his teenage years, he was like a tyrant. Most people stayed out of his way because of his unpredictability and short fuse. You always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt considering how he was raised, but he didn't always make that so easy. With all this in mind, it's worth mentioning that now, as an adult, he was doing better. His belligerent days were behind him, and he had calmed down quite a bit. You don't remember the last time you heard of him beating someone bloody. Nowadays, when he'd come back from college, he'd work with his Father during the day, and let loose during the night. Still, you didn't forget about the person he was. No one did. Tensed shoulders and hushed whispers still arose at the mention of Rafe's name, and it would be a while before that changed.

Rafe was nonchalant. When the bottle landed on him, he held up his index and middle finger to motion for Jade to come closer to him. You watched with your Jell-O shot riddled mind— which had you thinking he was very sexy at that moment. Jade licked her lips and leaned forward on all fours— ready for it. Rafe's hand found the back of her neck and he pressed his lips to hers. The room erupted in cheers and you covered your ears at the volume. Your eyes stayed on Rafe and Jade and you shamelessly wondered how it would feel to kiss him. Despite his rough appearance, his lips were soft and pink.

They look delicious.

The kiss was short and clean. Nothing like the one before, and a part of you was surprised. Rafe pulled away first and sat back down, taking a swig of his drink.

Now you were a little intrigued— more alert. Moving your pupils side-to-side, you counted the heads in the circle and rounded up to about fifteen participants. There were also lots more people in the room, just as spectators, and they were at the edge of their seats. There was like a 7% chance that you’d be the one the bottle landed on— slim odds, but not impossible.

“I hope it doesn’t land on me,” Sofia whispers in your ear.

You nodded, even though you couldn’t really hear what she said over the drumroll sounding through the room.

Rafe held the bottle with his left hand and spun it with a sharp flick of the wrist. He stared at it closely. You wondered if he was mentally hoping that it would land on someone specific. There was no way to tell just by studying his face.

Again, the bottle began to slow down in momentum, and everyone knew it was going to choose the next participant soon. It was an exciting feeling— a lot more amplified during this round than the ones before. And that was the power of Rafe.

The bottle stopped spinning.

You looked at it and followed its path. You heard Sofia gasp right next to you.

The bottle pointed right between you and her.

The crowd groaned and then started weighing in on what should be done. Everyone talked over one another trying to reach a consensus.

All this over a game of spin the bottle.

You swallowed and looked across the circle at Rafe, whose eyes were already on you. It made you flinch in surprise and you quickly averted your gaze back to the bottle. You pretended to think about a way to solve the impossible equation.

Hmm, maybe he could spin again?

While you were busy pretending to look deep in thought, Rafe had already made up his mind. Ignoring all the opinions of those around him, he reached forward and shifted the bottle an inch so it was pointing directly at you.

Now you were the one gasping, as Sofia let out a sigh of relief.

Your eyes remained fixed on the bottle as the crowd got rowdy once again. Because this wasn’t as uneventful as a re-spin. No— this time, the bottle didn’t choose you.

Rafe did.

It felt like the first time ever in spin the bottle history for something like that to happen. And that’s why everyone was shouting, cheering, and feeling oh so lucky to be witnesses. Because now there were layers to this game. It raised questions. Like, why did he choose you over Sofia? Or, had he been hoping it would land on you all along?

Whatever it was, you didn’t have time to think about it right now. Because the game was still ongoing.

And this time, Rafe was the one moving closer. He was actually putting in the effort to come to you. This had you slightly impressed and also feeling a little funny. You felt Sofia pat you on the back as a sign of encouragement. So you slowly moved towards him too. Quickly running your tongue over your lips, you scooted forward and he met you before you got to the middle.

Impatient?

Eager?

Coming face-to-face with him was— and you don't say this lightly— breathtaking. You could sit there for days trying to find a flaw, and still come up short. He was simply perfect. With alluring eyes and pink lips, it was no surprise that everyone fawned over him all his life.

The group chanted your names like you guys were athletes or something. It had your veins coursing with adrenaline, and you weren't sure if you enjoyed that feeling or not. You were never used to being the centre of attention, but Rafe was. And that somehow comforted you.

Rafe did everything at his own pace—peer pressure never got to him. Finally, with a curl of his lip, he tilted his head and leaned forward, closing the distance. His lips met yours and he corrected his angle to better feel them. Your initial instinct was to freeze and just let him do all the work. But then you realized that this opportunity wouldn’t present itself again— it’s not like you’d want to be anywhere near Rafe when you’re sober. So why not make the most of it now, and give people a show?

Your blood alcohol content provided you with the boost that you needed. While Rafe took his time to suck on your bottom lip, you brought your hands to the sides of his cheeks and held him like he was the most precious artifact in the world. When he felt your touch, he moaned all breathy into the kiss—just for you to hear. You took that chance to deepen the kiss and swipe the inside of his mouth with your tongue, which he gladly welcomed.

The crowd’s cheers didn’t die down once. If anything, they got louder.

When you felt satisfied with your little risk of the day, you pulled back. Rafe, for a moment, had forgotten where he was and reflexively leaned forward to catch your missing touch. But when it wasn't there, he opened his eyes and noticed you’d sat back down at your spot. Topper reached forward and shook his shoulder, exclaiming, “dude, that was crazy!” Rafe just took a few seconds to catch his breath and then returned to his spot. His fingers kept finding his way back to his lips to settle the tingling feeling that was so prominent there.

You were out of breath too, but the game wasn’t over.

So you reached for the bottle to continue your turn. Grabbing it between your fingers and thumb, you gave it a hard spin and kneeled before it.

It was hard concentrating on the game after what you just did, and your thoughts were now filled with Rafe Cameron. Just as your mind was occupied with him, your eyes wanted to be included too. So you briefly look away from the bottle, and to Rafe, only to see him standing up and leaving. A few people seemed to ask him where he was going, but he just shook his head in response.

It was almost like he didn’t want to watch you kiss someone else.

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The morning, or afternoon, brought the blaring sun and a miserable hangover. You barely stumbled out of your bed at half past noon, and threw up on your way to the shower. The regret set in as the water hit your skin, and you cringed as your mind played a recap of the night.

Images of the party, the solo cups, and the wasted kooks all came flashing through when you closed your eyes. However, they shot open when you remembered the spin the bottle game.

Oh god. I full on made out with Rafe.

You weren’t sure how you felt about the whole situation. Sure, it was just a game and there was no need for further complication. But you weren’t the type to just kiss anyone at anytime. All the people you’d been with were ones you’d intended to pursue, and date, and all that. Seeing as how that was the last thing you wanted with Rafe, it was hard to wrap your head around the act of doing something so intimate with someone who you’d never really talk to again.

Is this what adulthood is?

Is this what hook-up culture is like?

You didn’t care for it. But it made things easier that the only two people you kissed last night were ones you wouldn’t cross paths with again.

After Rafe left, your next kiss was with Caleb. Yes, the Caleb that Sofia was praying she’d get. It made things quite awkward and you apologized profusely to her before, and after, you quickly gave him a peck. You earned boo’s from the crowd but you didn’t really care because your friendship came before all that. So Caleb was off the table, and back to being a stranger.

Rafe is the same too. Before last night, the only time you remembered interacting with him was during chemistry (which he was repeating), when you got partnered up for a lab. It was mostly forgettable besides the part where he made you do the whole experiment and lab report on your own, which had you furious. But he made up for it by presenting it to the class, knowing you were too shy to do so. Oh, and he’d also grab you the goggles and lab coat every time. So… that was quite nice of him.

Nevertheless, that was almost four years ago. Now you two went to different universities and lived different lives. He took the business route, and you took arts— couldn’t be more different. There was nothing to worry about then. Last night would blend in with the rest of the nights to come and, soon, you would forget the feeling of his lips on yours, and the quiet desperation he had for you.

Stepping out of the shower, you felt a lot better. Cold showers were the cure to everything.

You headed down to the kitchen, trying to satiate the growling of your stomach. The fridge was full of leftovers from last night that your mom so kindly packed up for you. It was a shame you were too nauseous to eat anything too heavy. So you stuck to some cold cereal and walked over to the table to begin eating.

A doorbell made you flinch and stand up. You peaked out the window and noticed a van had dropped off a package for you. Maybe it was those shoes you ordered two weeks ago. Finally some good news.

Walking over to the front door you opened it to see the shoes truly had arrived. You bent down to pick up the box and noticed a small envelope leaned against the wooden railing of the porch. It didn’t seem to have come with the shoes. No, they were placed too far apart. And this envelope had your name written on it. Not in any fancy letters, just simple penmanship.

You furrow your brows, pick up both things, and head into the house.

The shoes could wait now that your intrigue was stolen by the envelope. It was black too. You didn’t even know they made them in that colour.

Slowly and carefully, you slid your fingernails under the flap and lifted it, trying your best not to tear anything. It felt expensive.

Maybe it’s an invitation to midsummer.

No, but then Mom and Dad would’ve gotten one too.

After successfully opening it without any damage, you peaked inside. There was just a slip of paper. Not just your common printer paper though— this was thicker. Like card-stock.

Your index and thumb pinched the top of it and took it out of the envelope. One side, the side you saw first, was blank. The other just had a small message written on it.

“That was some kiss.”

You stared at the card and read the words over and over again until you were seeing them in between blinks. Who could possibly send such a thing? And why?

Was it Caleb?

It was Caleb, wasn’t it?

Fuck, this is all so wrong! He’s not yours to claim and you weren’t his. Sofia would be distraught and the thought of that made you feel like you could puke again.

You slam the card down, and grab your car keys. Time to pay Caleb a little visit to nip this in the bud.

All you knew about him was that he recently started working the morning shift at the Wreck. He should still be there if you drove fast enough.

You pulled into the parking space and marched into the restaurant like you were on a life or death mission— which is what it felt like in the moment.

Your head turned from side-to-side quickly as your eyes scanned the place. They zeroed in when you spotted him behind the counter. Your legs moved and dragged the rest of you along. You placed the envelope on the counter and waited for him to notice you.

“Y/N, hey, what can I getcha?” Caleb picked up the plate from the customer before you and walked it over to the kitchen in the back. He returned with a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m not here to eat, Caleb.” You slid the envelope forward.

He furrowed his brows and looked down at it. “What’s this? Are you trying to bribe me or something?” He chuckles.

Look at him being all oblivious.

You narrow your eyes. “You know what it is. This- you can’t be sending me stuff like this.”

He was speechless, not having a clue of what you were on about. He looked down at the envelope again, then back at you and said, “Y/N, I have never seen this before. Ever.”

You scoff in disbelief. “At least own up to it— I mean come on! I came all the way here and—”

“Dude, I’ve been waiting for my sandwich forever.”

A voice cuts you off and steals Caleb’s attention. You turn to the sound and see Rafe behind you. Quickly you turn back and stare ahead, hoping he didn’t recognize you.

“Sorry, I’ll get on that.” Caleb shot Rafe an apologetic look and turned to you to quietly say, “promise I didn’t send you that.”

You weren’t sure if you trusted him. He could’ve just been too nervous to admit it. Maybe he wasn’t the confrontational type. Who knows?

With a sigh, and your head hung low, you walk out of the restaurant without glancing at anyone else.

If it was Caleb—and you knew it was—then your reaction would’ve made it clear to him that you weren’t into it. Which meant mission accomplished, because you only came to the Wreck to shut this down before it got out of hand.

On the drive home, there was still a feeling of dissatisfaction gnawing at you. Because, although, you were set on Caleb being the culprit, there was something about the sincerity in his voice that made you think otherwise.

He could've been a theatre kid— lots of time to perfect his acting.

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The next morning you were feeling a lot better without the life-altering hangover. To add to the great morning, you also woke up with zero thoughts of the mystery-of-the-card-giver— which sounded like poorly written Agatha Christie novel.

A new summer day came with so much potential, and so much daylight. You planned to run a few errands with your Dad and then catch a movie with Sofia. It was the perfect balance of productivity and relaxation, and you were ready to get on with it.

First on the list was picking your Dad up from the auto body shop a few blocks away. He had to leave his car with the mechanics because of a recent, harmless, fender bender.

You pull on your shorts and a band tee of a group you couldn't name three songs of, and head out the door. You stepped onto the porch and noticed a black box at the last minute, which made you stumble and roll your ankle. "Ow shit!" Leaning against the doorframe, you reached for your ankle and rubbed the area with the shooting pain. After trying, and failing, to massage that pain away, you let go and reached for the box.

You were already annoyed, and you had a feeling that the contents of this box would only exacerbate that. Holding it in your hands, it wasn't too heavy or too big. It was sleek, rectangular, and... velvet? So definitely not cheap.

Great.

You walked over to the porch swing and placed it in your lap.

What is Caleb's game here?

Pressing on the small golden button to make the lid pop up, you were gasping at the sight before you. A gold chain bracelet. You recognized the motifs on it— five of them. All four leaf clover shaped. Black. A vintage Van Cleef.

Holy shit these are like seven thousand dollars.

You felt like you had forgotten how to breathe. Quickly, you shut the box and place it next to you on the swing– afraid you'd break it.

Who in their right mind would carelessly spend money like this?

Caleb was rich, but not this rich. How could he shell out seven g's on you after just a peck that lasted like half a millisecond? He was clearly taking the whole "hopeless romantic" title too far.

Your phone buzzed and you checked to see that your Dad had texted you asking of your whereabouts. Snapping out of the daze, you put the box inside and leave for the auto body shop.

The whole day you felt a strange weight on your shoulders. Your love language wasn't receiving gifts, and so this made you very uncomfortable. The price too! You wouldn't accept it even if it was given to you by your husband of fifty years! (Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. But still.)

And the worst part was that you couldn't talk to Sofia about it as it would kill her.

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You got no sleep last night. Just tossing and turning as the bracelet stared at you from your nightstand. Eyeing you with its slick chain and shiny motifs. It was truly a sight to see and you were already starting to feel upset at the thought of parting with it.

So you decided to rip off the bandaid, and give it back to Caleb right away. Did you try it on a few times? Yes. Did you consider just keeping it because it was a gift for you and you deserved something nice? Yes.

But ultimately, the cost of the thing made you too nervous, and returning it was the right thing to do.

You were dressed for the day and ready to head out. Before opening the door, you took a deep breath and mentally prayed that there wouldn't be another expensive present awaiting you. You didn't know what you'd do if there was just a Rolls-Royce in your driveway. Mainly because you wouldn't know how to return it.

Unlocking the door, and opening it just a teeny bit, you peaked your head out and looked down.

Shit.

Another box. This one was square shaped and it had a small envelope attached.

Where does Caleb find the time?

You reluctantly picked it up and brought it inside. A few moments of mental debate began to take place as you couldn’t decide whether to open it or not. What if you got too attached?

The envelope sat there on your coffee table and you were dreading the thought of another flirtatious line. You thought you had been stern with Caleb the other day. And yet here was evidence that your plan had backfired.

You bite the bullet and tear open the envelope without a care this time. Inside was a small note again.

“For your pretty neck.”

You furrow your brows and notice your stomach felt funny. You turn to the box, finally, and open it to find a matching necklace to your bracelet. Oh my. Oh no. Oh, this has gone too far.

Hitting up the Wreck twice in three days was rare for you. You typically didn’t like going there because of potential run-ins with old classmates you felt awkward around. But this was important stuff! You were being showered with expensive jewelry! And it had to stop.

On your angry march into the restaurant, you were mentally rehearsing a long and scary speech you’d say to Caleb. Drop words like “impermissible” and “cease!”

“Didn’t like the necklace, huh?”

You froze. It felt like the Looney Toons when a character was sprinting with smoke coming from their legs and then stop with that horrible tire screeching sound. A chill ran up your back because that voice… that voice didn’t belong to Caleb. No. It belonged to Rafe. You stood there for a few seconds, right in front of the doors. Then you took a deep breath, and turned around to Rafe who was standing behind you.

A million things could’ve been said but for some reason you settled on, “what— uhm— what’re you talking about?”

You flinched from surprise when he let out a short, but genuine, laugh.

“You know what.” He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks his brow at you.

Before you could respond, your phone rang in your pocket. You look down and fish out your phone, shooting him an apologetic look. It was Sofia.

When you glanced back up, Rafe had walked off with Kelce. And you were left with your hummingbird heartbeat and Sofia’s voice ranting about another annoying incident involving her coworker.

Her words went in one ear, and out the other. The only thing you could think about right now was how it was Rafe all along. The note. The jewelry.

For your pretty neck.

What in the actual hell.

You had never thought to suspect him because you didn’t think he actually had… feelings? Like human emotions? Like did he actually want you to like him? Was he capable of longing for a person? Unless that’s not what this was— maybe he just wanted to get laid. In the midst of this busy schedule, he probably didn’t have much time to get his rocks off. And maybe that’s why he needed you. To be there as a stress reliever. And he most likely thought you’d be more than up for it considering the way you kissed him. Like it was your last day on earth. Practically sucking face.

Oh god.

Later that night you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. There were too many questions on your mind. Along with those, of course, was a fluttering feeing in your stomach. Because even though you didn’t know his intentions, a part of you felt like you were actually being pursued. Like your attention was a valuable prize. A goal.

But this had already gone too far. And you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing something else on your doorstep tomorrow morning.

Maybe I should just stop leaving the house.

You shake your head and knock some sense into yourself. It’s time to take matters into your own hands! Sure, in person, you couldn’t get a word out to Rafe because of his intimidating presence (and hot face). But you could shoot him a text. There was more confidence behind the screen without his eyes swallowing you up.

You grab your cellphone.

You stood up and paced around your bedroom. Okay, all you have to do is send a strongly-worded text. Words. On a screen. You’ll be fine! It’s just a text! It’s not like he can reach through the screen and touch you, right? That kind of technology wouldn't come into existence overnight.

You took deep breaths as you typed his phone number into your cell. Okay. Okay. You can do this. Words on a screen. Words. Letters.

You stared at the message in horror, but sent it anyway. Why in the world were you texting like you needed a moment to talk about your lord and saviour Jesus Christ?

Why did you get so formal when you texted strangers? He’s going to think you’re the same goody-two-shoes all those years ago in chem class. But also, you didn’t need his approval. To be honest, you wanted nothing to do with Rafe. He was a big guy in many ways— his big personality, big presence, big impact. You weren’t sure you could handle it— or that you wanted to. You were quite content with the small circle of people in your life who helped maintain the peace. And Rafe? Rafe is… havoc.

But you also never knew he could be so smooth. All those years of girls chasing him you never thought it was because he had something to offer.

Clearly, you missed out.

The cell phone flew across the room and hit your headboard, plopping into the thin crevice between it and the mattress. His last text clearly had some sort of physical effect on you to the point where you thought that destroying your phone to bits would be better than responding.

Maybe this was a joke. Like a dare. Oh, that would be so cruel— but that was more up his alley, than being this sweet and generous loverboy.

You didn’t want to keep living in this fever dream, so you decided it was best to just call it a night.

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Day four.

You thought that after the text exchange last night, there would be a pause, a hesitance, a break.

But it seemed that Rafe only decided to crank things up. He didn’t see your texts as a sign to back down—no— he saw them as a challenge— to see how far he can push you; see how much you could take.

Outside your doorstep lay a large bouquet of tulips— red tulips. Knowing a little something about flowers and symbolism from English class during your senior year— these indicated love.

Love.

But maybe it wasn’t on purpose. Maybe they were just the first ones he laid his eyes on.

Attached was another note, and another box.

You shut your eyes tight hoping that you were just imagining things. But when you opened them again, the sight hadn’t changed.

Your muscle memory kicked in, and you carried all the presents inside, into the living room. You laid them on the coffee table and dissected each gift one by one.

The box, first.

It was smaller, like one for a ring. Which scared you— because rings could mean many things. Marriages, promises, friendships. None of which applied to you and Rafe.

The velvet box popped open and your assumptions were proven correct. A gold ring to match the necklace and bracelet. You stared at your reflection in the four leaf clover motif.

Your hands trembled and you took out the note next.

“Don’t freak out… just wanted to compliment the set.”

It was like he read your mind. Yes, it’s not like this was a proposal— no, this was a dire fashion choice.

Today was a busy day for you, unfortunately. You didn’t have time to show up at his door and talk some sense into him.

But then again, he clearly didn’t back down when you called him out. So maybe the best way to deal with this is to ignore him.

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By the fifth day—and your lack of reaction to the ring—Rafe was a little more desperate. After the last gift, he’d been sure you’d reach out and scold him like a Sunday school teacher. Which, disturbingly, he found kind of hot and made a mental note to bring up with a professional. Still, he was Rafe Cameron, and when he wanted something, he’d stop at nothing to get it. Nothing. So your silence didn’t make him recoil—it only enticed him more.

Like clockwork, you opened your front door and looked down on the porch.

A box and a note.

More fucking red tulips.

You picked them up and brought them inside. There was only one vase in your entire house which was already occupied by yesterday’s flowers.

The box contained a pair of earrings to match the set. You almost felt dizzy when you mentally calculated the total cost of all his gifts.

Earrings were your favourite accessory and the longer you stared at them, the harder it was to resist putting them on and strutting around your living room.

Next, the note.

“Playing hard to get?

Makes me want you more.”

You read the words again, and again, and again. They made you feel something— a feeling you couldn’t pinpoint.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, opening up your text messages.

Rolling your eyes, you toss your phone aside and got on with your day. You weren’t the type of person whose life is upended because of some guy.

Yeah, he’s just a guy— a guy who’s given you almost twenty thousand dollars worth of gifts without blinking. A guy who has been complimenting and pursuing you like his life depended on it. A guy who's making you feel wanted for the first time in a long time.

You take a deep breath, it’ll all blow over in a few days.

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Oh, how wrong your were.

You audibly gasped when you opened your front door the next day. It seemed that Rafe had run out of accessory ideas, because all there was on your porch was an envelope full of cash. You jumped and picked it up and brought it inside, immediately locking the door. Flipping it over, you read his messy handwriting you'd become so familiar with.

"Does this count as an atrocity or generosity?"

Smoke was coming out of your ears and you were red with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and fucking butterflies.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins had you stomping towards your car with all his gifts, or debts, in hand and placing them in the passenger seat. You were slamming doors left, right, and centre trying to make a statement, but when it came to the gifts, you gently wrapped a seatbelt around them. It disrupted your flow, but your bank account couldn't take the hit if anything was damaged.

White-knuckling the steering wheel all the way to Tannyhill, you took shallow breaths and practiced your assertive voice.

Today it would all end. Finally.

When you pulled up to the house, you noticed Rafe was outside, on the grass, speaking into his cellphone. Without a care in the world, you drove up his driveway and noticed his brows shoot up, wondering who you were. Then when you got out of the car, frantically, his brows returned to their spot and a smirk settled across his face.

You slammed the door and walked up to him with the envelope of cash clutched in your hand. He hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket, without saying goodbye.

"What is this?" The assertive voice went out the window, and instead you sounded shrill. But Rafe didn't seem to mind at all— if anything, he was intrigued... and a little turned on.

He looked from your eyes, to your lips, and then to the envelope. "Generosity?"

You clicked your tongue in frustration and responded, "this isn't funny! I told you to stop."

He was about to say something, but you cut him off and began pacing on the lawn.

"— and this? Cash? Are you insane? What if someone saw? They'd think I was a drug dealer or something!" You ran your hand through your hair almost ripping it out of your scalp.

"No one would think that." He shrugged.

You stared at him like he grew a second head.

"Is that the only thing you took away from what I said?" The vein in your forehead was about to pop.

"No, I heard the whole thing— but I just had to let you know that you don't give off the drug dealer vibe."

"Oh!" You let out a short, hysterical laugh. "Oh, that is so good to know. I'm so glad we got that cleared up." You exclaimed with biting sarcasm.

Rafe was finding you more entertaining than any TV show he'd binged in the past, well, ever. He could watch you all day and listen to you yell at him for an embarrassingly long time.

He finally spoke up with the question he'd been meaning to ask since the night of spin the bottle.

"Go out with me."

You halted in your maniacal pacing— you were sure you'd dug a hole in his lawn at this point. You looked up at him with eyes basically bulging out of your head.

"What?" Your voice reached a pitch that only a dog could hear.

He chuckled, "go out with me."

He couldn't have been real. What human being was this shameless and infuriating? If you had told yourself last week that the Rafe Cameron would be acting like a lovesick child for you, you'd laugh and laugh until you fainted.

You scoffed in disbelief and replied, "are you serious?" You scoffed again and then just gasped like you were out of breath. "What— you— what? You think you can just buy my affection?"

His amused eyes never left you once. He didn't blink— not wanting to miss even a second of this conversation with you.

"No, but I can buy your attention right? Because," he smiled and stepped closer, "you're here."

Without hesitation, you took a step back and distanced yourself, to Rafe's dismay. But he was patient when it came to you, so he stayed still.

You were speechless. How does one respond to that?

He tilts his head, "cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head, "I only came buy to return everything to you. Nothing more."

With that, you head towards your car and bring out the stack of boxes from the passenger seat. You walk back to him to hand them off. But he doesn't budge, instead just putting his hands in his pockets with a smug look.

What a little—

"Rafe." You say sternly.

He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue.

"Y/N." He mimics your tone.

You sigh and hold the boxes out again, "please. I can't accept them."

He shakes his head, "I bought them for you. I'm not taking anything back."

With a groan you reply, "I don't want them! I- I don't want this— whatever this is— between us."

Rafe was slightly discouraged with your words, but he told himself that you were just desperate, and would say anything to convince him. He knew a little something about that.

Light bulb.

"Okay," he crosses his arms over his chest.

You blink surprised, "okay?"

He nods, "I'll take them back if you go out with me—"

You roll your eyes and exhale heavily, but he continues.

"— just one date. One dinner. And I'll prove to you that you do want this— whatever this is— between us."

"Rafe, there's no point in going through all that hassle—"

"One dinner. And if by the end you still— for some reason— aren't completely in love with me, then I'll leave you alone."

You paused and narrowed your eyes at him. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nods.

This is it. This was your shot.

"Deal."

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This was initially supposed to be one-shot but got wayyy too long!! But there will be another part to this soon!

Thank you for reading <33

Let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see in the second part as I'm still brainstorming what should happen :)))

[leonalovesalot]

Making me blush🤭🤭

Outerbanks

Rafe Cameron

Everybody loves you, but nobody likes you

Just gotta show you that I'm the one I

[leonalovesalot]

꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.Leona ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧

This is a side blog! Main blog: @seokjinluvb0t

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Challengers Masterlist Outerbanks Masterlist

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[leonalovesalot]

Outerbanks

Rafe Cameron

Everybody loves you, but nobody likes you

Just gotta show you that I'm the one I

Just gotta show you that I'm the one II

[leonalovesalot]

Just gotta show you that I'm the one I

RafeCameron x Reader

In which you kiss Rafe during a game of spin the bottle, and he can't seem to leave you alone after.

wc: 7.1k

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The bass of the music made your whole body vibrate with adrenaline— that and the alcohol. It was the first party of the summer yet, everyone celebrated like it was the last. You rarely showed up to things like this, but after a difficult semester and a tough breakup, you figured you deserved to let loose. That’s what you kept telling yourself—to drown out the badgering thought that if you’d just been good enough, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself cheated on.

You shake your head like you were trying to get the thoughts to fall from your ears, and gulped down another Jell-O shot. Your fourth one of the night.

When you set the shot glass down, your arm was yanked and your body was being dragged over to the door leading down to the basement.

“Soph, where’re you taking me?” You giggled at the end of your question, which was confusing because nothing was funny. But you heard from friends that when you got drunk, it was a laugh fest.

“Basement— they’re playing spin the bottle.” She held you tight and guided you down the stairs. Leaning closer to whisper in your ear, she says, “maybe I’ll get to kiss Caleb.” She almost squealed with excitement.

Lots of people were laughing and chit chatting as they sat down in a poorly formed circle. You found an empty space next to Topper, who smiled politely at you. At that moment, you remembered that alcohol also made you very affectionate. You didn’t know Topper all that well and you still reached out and pinched his cheek in response. He was taken aback, but didn’t say anything.

“Alright, everyone knows the rules. If the bottle lands on you, you gotta give the spinner a big ol’ kiss. Capeesh?” Kelce announced to everyone, and looked around to make sure they were on the same page.

Nods and hums filled the room and an empty corona bottle was placed in the middle of the circle.

Kelce went first.

Everyone stared at the bottle in anticipation. Some dreading it landing on them, while others prayed to a higher being that they’d get to kiss Kelce. You, on the other hand, just looked up and around the room at everyone since the spinning bottle was making you dizzy.

Cheers sounded through the basement as the bottle finally chose. It landed on Kelce’s ex-girlfriend, Madison. Everyone whooped and laughed at how unbelievably perfect it was. Kelce was in disbelief and Madison looked like she regretted coming to the party. But rules were rules and also, people were too drunk to realize they had free will and could back out.

A perverse smile was slapped across your face, along with everyone else, at the sight of Kelce and Madison leaning in. Their breakup was the talk of the town as neither of them were the type to keep a low profile. The arguments in the streets to screenshots posted all over social media made this whole situation funnier.

The two leaned in and kissed each other for a split second before going right back to their spots. The group booed at the lack of commitment, but the ex-couple didn’t seem to care.

Madison’s turn.

The group once again glued their eyes to the spinning glass bottle. Your eyes wandered and took in everyone’s appearances— just a bunch of horny kooks, and you were no different. It had been a while since you’d got some action— or any proper action. It was embarrassing to admit but, technically, you were a virgin. You’d done everything but the big “P” for penetration— always interrupted. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t miss the closeness. Lips on your lips. Hands in your hair.

"Oh shit! Didn't know we'd get some girl-on-girl tonight!" A voice hollered from across the circle and you tuned back into the game.

Madison's bottle landed on Jade.

It was kind of perfect, actually. The one thing you remembered about Jade was how, one time in high school, you caught her checking you out after gym. You thought a lot about her after that— wondering what the curious stare meant back then.

Seeing her now—unflinching, ready to kiss Madison—confirmed your suspicions, and you mentally patted yourself on the back.

The two leaned in pressed their lips against one another. The crowd cheered and whistled as the girls got deeper into it. Your brows raised slightly as you were surprised at how long the kiss was. It was messy too— you could see a little tongue. Madison was practically swallowing Jade like she was trying to get any trace of Kelce off of her. You took a deep breath and looked away as you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks.

"Now that's what 'm talking about!"

The girls pulled away, sitting back down with shy smiles and flushed faces. They avoided each others' eyes and the group nudged them, finding the whole situation funny.

Jade's turn.

She spun the bottle without hesitation and stared at it intensely. She was quite attractive, with her dark hair and piercing eyes—so naturally, everyone was kind of hoping the bottle would choose them. You included. You laughed at the thought. God, I'm drunk.

The bottle began to slow its rotation and finally came to a halt. The loud, boisterous kooks somehow grew even louder and more boisterous. Your eyes trailed from the neck of the bottle to the legs of the person sitting cross-legged, up their torso, and finally to their face

Rafe Cameron.

The reaction of the crowd was understandable.

Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

What to say about him?

He was the personification of the word "kook". During his teenage years, he was like a tyrant. Most people stayed out of his way because of his unpredictability and short fuse. You always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt considering how he was raised, but he didn't always make that so easy. With all this in mind, it's worth mentioning that now, as an adult, he was doing better. His belligerent days were behind him, and he had calmed down quite a bit. You don't remember the last time you heard of him beating someone bloody. Nowadays, when he'd come back from college, he'd work with his Father during the day, and let loose during the night. Still, you didn't forget about the person he was. No one did. Tensed shoulders and hushed whispers still arose at the mention of Rafe's name, and it would be a while before that changed.

Rafe was nonchalant. When the bottle landed on him, he held up his index and middle finger to motion for Jade to come closer to him. You watched with your Jell-O shot riddled mind— which had you thinking he was very sexy at that moment. Jade licked her lips and leaned forward on all fours— ready for it. Rafe's hand found the back of her neck and he pressed his lips to hers. The room erupted in cheers and you covered your ears at the volume. Your eyes stayed on Rafe and Jade and you shamelessly wondered how it would feel to kiss him. Despite his rough appearance, his lips were soft and pink.

They look delicious.

The kiss was short and clean. Nothing like the one before, and a part of you was surprised. Rafe pulled away first and sat back down, taking a swig of his drink.

Now you were a little intrigued— more alert. Moving your pupils side-to-side, you counted the heads in the circle and rounded up to about fifteen participants. There were also lots more people in the room, just as spectators, and they were at the edge of their seats. There was like a 7% chance that you’d be the one the bottle landed on— slim odds, but not impossible.

“I hope it doesn’t land on me,” Sofia whispers in your ear.

You nodded, even though you couldn’t really hear what she said over the drumroll sounding through the room.

Rafe held the bottle with his left hand and spun it with a sharp flick of the wrist. He stared at it closely. You wondered if he was mentally hoping that it would land on someone specific. There was no way to tell just by studying his face.

Again, the bottle began to slow down in momentum, and everyone knew it was going to choose the next participant soon. It was an exciting feeling— a lot more amplified during this round than the ones before. And that was the power of Rafe.

The bottle stopped spinning.

You looked at it and followed its path. You heard Sofia gasp right next to you.

The bottle pointed right between you and her.

The crowd groaned and then started weighing in on what should be done. Everyone talked over one another trying to reach a consensus.

All this over a game of spin the bottle.

You swallowed and looked across the circle at Rafe, whose eyes were already on you. It made you flinch in surprise and you quickly averted your gaze back to the bottle. You pretended to think about a way to solve the impossible equation.

Hmm, maybe he could spin again?

While you were busy pretending to look deep in thought, Rafe had already made up his mind. Ignoring all the opinions of those around him, he reached forward and shifted the bottle an inch so it was pointing directly at you.

Now you were the one gasping, as Sofia let out a sigh of relief.

Your eyes remained fixed on the bottle as the crowd got rowdy once again. Because this wasn’t as uneventful as a re-spin. No— this time, the bottle didn’t choose you.

Rafe did.

It felt like the first time ever in spin the bottle history for something like that to happen. And that’s why everyone was shouting, cheering, and feeling oh so lucky to be witnesses. Because now there were layers to this game. It raised questions. Like, why did he choose you over Sofia? Or, had he been hoping it would land on you all along?

Whatever it was, you didn’t have time to think about it right now. Because the game was still ongoing.

And this time, Rafe was the one moving closer. He was actually putting in the effort to come to you. This had you slightly impressed and also feeling a little funny. You felt Sofia pat you on the back as a sign of encouragement. So you slowly moved towards him too. Quickly running your tongue over your lips, you scooted forward and he met you before you got to the middle.

Impatient?

Eager?

Coming face-to-face with him was— and you don't say this lightly— breathtaking. You could sit there for days trying to find a flaw, and still come up short. He was simply perfect. With alluring eyes and pink lips, it was no surprise that everyone fawned over him all his life.

The group chanted your names like you guys were athletes or something. It had your veins coursing with adrenaline, and you weren't sure if you enjoyed that feeling or not. You were never used to being the centre of attention, but Rafe was. And that somehow comforted you.

Rafe did everything at his own pace—peer pressure never got to him. Finally, with a curl of his lip, he tilted his head and leaned forward, closing the distance. His lips met yours and he corrected his angle to better feel them. Your initial instinct was to freeze and just let him do all the work. But then you realized that this opportunity wouldn’t present itself again— it’s not like you’d want to be anywhere near Rafe when you’re sober. So why not make the most of it now, and give people a show?

Your blood alcohol content provided you with the boost that you needed. While Rafe took his time to suck on your bottom lip, you brought your hands to the sides of his cheeks and held him like he was the most precious artifact in the world. When he felt your touch, he moaned all breathy into the kiss—just for you to hear. You took that chance to deepen the kiss and swipe the inside of his mouth with your tongue, which he gladly welcomed.

The crowd’s cheers didn’t die down once. If anything, they got louder.

When you felt satisfied with your little risk of the day, you pulled back. Rafe, for a moment, had forgotten where he was and reflexively leaned forward to catch your missing touch. But when it wasn't there, he opened his eyes and noticed you’d sat back down at your spot. Topper reached forward and shook his shoulder, exclaiming, “dude, that was crazy!” Rafe just took a few seconds to catch his breath and then returned to his spot. His fingers kept finding his way back to his lips to settle the tingling feeling that was so prominent there.

You were out of breath too, but the game wasn’t over.

So you reached for the bottle to continue your turn. Grabbing it between your fingers and thumb, you gave it a hard spin and kneeled before it.

It was hard concentrating on the game after what you just did, and your thoughts were now filled with Rafe Cameron. Just as your mind was occupied with him, your eyes wanted to be included too. So you briefly look away from the bottle, and to Rafe, only to see him standing up and leaving. A few people seemed to ask him where he was going, but he just shook his head in response.

It was almost like he didn’t want to watch you kiss someone else.

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The morning, or afternoon, brought the blaring sun and a miserable hangover. You barely stumbled out of your bed at half past noon, and threw up on your way to the shower. The regret set in as the water hit your skin, and you cringed as your mind played a recap of the night.

Images of the party, the solo cups, and the wasted kooks all came flashing through when you closed your eyes. However, they shot open when you remembered the spin the bottle game.

Oh god. I full on made out with Rafe.

You weren’t sure how you felt about the whole situation. Sure, it was just a game and there was no need for further complication. But you weren’t the type to just kiss anyone at anytime. All the people you’d been with were ones you’d intended to pursue, and date, and all that. Seeing as how that was the last thing you wanted with Rafe, it was hard to wrap your head around the act of doing something so intimate with someone who you’d never really talk to again.

Is this what adulthood is?

Is this what hook-up culture is like?

You didn’t care for it. But it made things easier that the only two people you kissed last night were ones you wouldn’t cross paths with again.

After Rafe left, your next kiss was with Caleb. Yes, the Caleb that Sofia was praying she’d get. It made things quite awkward and you apologized profusely to her before, and after, you quickly gave him a peck. You earned boo’s from the crowd but you didn’t really care because your friendship came before all that. So Caleb was off the table, and back to being a stranger.

Rafe is the same too. Before last night, the only time you remembered interacting with him was during chemistry (which he was repeating), when you got partnered up for a lab. It was mostly forgettable besides the part where he made you do the whole experiment and lab report on your own, which had you furious. But he made up for it by presenting it to the class, knowing you were too shy to do so. Oh, and he’d also grab you the goggles and lab coat every time. So… that was quite nice of him.

Nevertheless, that was almost four years ago. Now you two went to different universities and lived different lives. He took the business route, and you took arts— couldn’t be more different. There was nothing to worry about then. Last night would blend in with the rest of the nights to come and, soon, you would forget the feeling of his lips on yours, and the quiet desperation he had for you.

Stepping out of the shower, you felt a lot better. Cold showers were the cure to everything.

You headed down to the kitchen, trying to satiate the growling of your stomach. The fridge was full of leftovers from last night that your mom so kindly packed up for you. It was a shame you were too nauseous to eat anything too heavy. So you stuck to some cold cereal and walked over to the table to begin eating.

A doorbell made you flinch and stand up. You peaked out the window and noticed a van had dropped off a package for you. Maybe it was those shoes you ordered two weeks ago. Finally some good news.

Walking over to the front door you opened it to see the shoes truly had arrived. You bent down to pick up the box and noticed a small envelope leaned against the wooden railing of the porch. It didn’t seem to have come with the shoes. No, they were placed too far apart. And this envelope had your name written on it. Not in any fancy letters, just simple penmanship.

You furrow your brows, pick up both things, and head into the house.

The shoes could wait now that your intrigue was stolen by the envelope. It was black too. You didn’t even know they made them in that colour.

Slowly and carefully, you slid your fingernails under the flap and lifted it, trying your best not to tear anything. It felt expensive.

Maybe it’s an invitation to midsummer.

No, but then Mom and Dad would’ve gotten one too.

After successfully opening it without any damage, you peaked inside. There was just a slip of paper. Not just your common printer paper though— this was thicker. Like card-stock.

Your index and thumb pinched the top of it and took it out of the envelope. One side, the side you saw first, was blank. The other just had a small message written on it.

“That was some kiss.”

You stared at the card and read the words over and over again until you were seeing them in between blinks. Who could possibly send such a thing? And why?

Was it Caleb?

It was Caleb, wasn’t it?

Fuck, this is all so wrong! He’s not yours to claim and you weren’t his. Sofia would be distraught and the thought of that made you feel like you could puke again.

You slam the card down, and grab your car keys. Time to pay Caleb a little visit to nip this in the bud.

All you knew about him was that he recently started working the morning shift at the Wreck. He should still be there if you drove fast enough.

You pulled into the parking space and marched into the restaurant like you were on a life or death mission— which is what it felt like in the moment.

Your head turned from side-to-side quickly as your eyes scanned the place. They zeroed in when you spotted him behind the counter. Your legs moved and dragged the rest of you along. You placed the envelope on the counter and waited for him to notice you.

“Y/N, hey, what can I getcha?” Caleb picked up the plate from the customer before you and walked it over to the kitchen in the back. He returned with a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m not here to eat, Caleb.” You slid the envelope forward.

He furrowed his brows and looked down at it. “What’s this? Are you trying to bribe me or something?” He chuckles.

Look at him being all oblivious.

You narrow your eyes. “You know what it is. This- you can’t be sending me stuff like this.”

He was speechless, not having a clue of what you were on about. He looked down at the envelope again, then back at you and said, “Y/N, I have never seen this before. Ever.”

You scoff in disbelief. “At least own up to it— I mean come on! I came all the way here and—”

“Dude, I’ve been waiting for my sandwich forever.”

A voice cuts you off and steals Caleb’s attention. You turn to the sound and see Rafe behind you. Quickly you turn back and stare ahead, hoping he didn’t recognize you.

“Sorry, I’ll get on that.” Caleb shot Rafe an apologetic look and turned to you to quietly say, “promise I didn’t send you that.”

You weren’t sure if you trusted him. He could’ve just been too nervous to admit it. Maybe he wasn’t the confrontational type. Who knows?

With a sigh, and your head hung low, you walk out of the restaurant without glancing at anyone else.

If it was Caleb—and you knew it was—then your reaction would’ve made it clear to him that you weren’t into it. Which meant mission accomplished, because you only came to the Wreck to shut this down before it got out of hand.

On the drive home, there was still a feeling of dissatisfaction gnawing at you. Because, although, you were set on Caleb being the culprit, there was something about the sincerity in his voice that made you think otherwise.

He could've been a theatre kid— lots of time to perfect his acting.

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The next morning you were feeling a lot better without the life-altering hangover. To add to the great morning, you also woke up with zero thoughts of the mystery-of-the-card-giver— which sounded like poorly written Agatha Christie novel.

A new summer day came with so much potential, and so much daylight. You planned to run a few errands with your Dad and then catch a movie with Sofia. It was the perfect balance of productivity and relaxation, and you were ready to get on with it.

First on the list was picking your Dad up from the auto body shop a few blocks away. He had to leave his car with the mechanics because of a recent, harmless, fender bender.

You pull on your shorts and a band tee of a group you couldn't name three songs of, and head out the door. You stepped onto the porch and noticed a black box at the last minute, which made you stumble and roll your ankle. "Ow shit!" Leaning against the doorframe, you reached for your ankle and rubbed the area with the shooting pain. After trying, and failing, to massage that pain away, you let go and reached for the box.

You were already annoyed, and you had a feeling that the contents of this box would only exacerbate that. Holding it in your hands, it wasn't too heavy or too big. It was sleek, rectangular, and... velvet? So definitely not cheap.

Great.

You walked over to the porch swing and placed it in your lap.

What is Caleb's game here?

Pressing on the small golden button to make the lid pop up, you were gasping at the sight before you. A gold chain bracelet. You recognized the motifs on it— five of them. All four leaf clover shaped. Black. A vintage Van Cleef.

Holy shit these are like seven thousand dollars.

You felt like you had forgotten how to breathe. Quickly, you shut the box and place it next to you on the swing– afraid you'd break it.

Who in their right mind would carelessly spend money like this?

Caleb was rich, but not this rich. How could he shell out seven g's on you after just a peck that lasted like half a millisecond? He was clearly taking the whole "hopeless romantic" title too far.

Your phone buzzed and you checked to see that your Dad had texted you asking of your whereabouts. Snapping out of the daze, you put the box inside and leave for the auto body shop.

The whole day you felt a strange weight on your shoulders. Your love language wasn't receiving gifts, and so this made you very uncomfortable. The price too! You wouldn't accept it even if it was given to you by your husband of fifty years! (Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. But still.)

And the worst part was that you couldn't talk to Sofia about it as it would kill her.

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You got no sleep last night. Just tossing and turning as the bracelet stared at you from your nightstand. Eyeing you with its slick chain and shiny motifs. It was truly a sight to see and you were already starting to feel upset at the thought of parting with it.

So you decided to rip off the bandaid, and give it back to Caleb right away. Did you try it on a few times? Yes. Did you consider just keeping it because it was a gift for you and you deserved something nice? Yes.

But ultimately, the cost of the thing made you too nervous, and returning it was the right thing to do.

You were dressed for the day and ready to head out. Before opening the door, you took a deep breath and mentally prayed that there wouldn't be another expensive present awaiting you. You didn't know what you'd do if there was just a Rolls-Royce in your driveway. Mainly because you wouldn't know how to return it.

Unlocking the door, and opening it just a teeny bit, you peaked your head out and looked down.

Shit.

Another box. This one was square shaped and it had a small envelope attached.

Where does Caleb find the time?

You reluctantly picked it up and brought it inside. A few moments of mental debate began to take place as you couldn’t decide whether to open it or not. What if you got too attached?

The envelope sat there on your coffee table and you were dreading the thought of another flirtatious line. You thought you had been stern with Caleb the other day. And yet here was evidence that your plan had backfired.

You bite the bullet and tear open the envelope without a care this time. Inside was a small note again.

“For your pretty neck.”

You furrow your brows and notice your stomach felt funny. You turn to the box, finally, and open it to find a matching necklace to your bracelet. Oh my. Oh no. Oh, this has gone too far.

Hitting up the Wreck twice in three days was rare for you. You typically didn’t like going there because of potential run-ins with old classmates you felt awkward around. But this was important stuff! You were being showered with expensive jewelry! And it had to stop.

On your angry march into the restaurant, you were mentally rehearsing a long and scary speech you’d say to Caleb. Drop words like “impermissible” and “cease!”

“Didn’t like the necklace, huh?”

You froze. It felt like the Looney Toons when a character was sprinting with smoke coming from their legs and then stop with that horrible tire screeching sound. A chill ran up your back because that voice… that voice didn’t belong to Caleb. No. It belonged to Rafe. You stood there for a few seconds, right in front of the doors. Then you took a deep breath, and turned around to Rafe who was standing behind you.

A million things could’ve been said but for some reason you settled on, “what— uhm— what’re you talking about?”

You flinched from surprise when he let out a short, but genuine, laugh.

“You know what.” He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks his brow at you.

Before you could respond, your phone rang in your pocket. You look down and fish out your phone, shooting him an apologetic look. It was Sofia.

When you glanced back up, Rafe had walked off with Kelce. And you were left with your hummingbird heartbeat and Sofia’s voice ranting about another annoying incident involving her coworker.

Her words went in one ear, and out the other. The only thing you could think about right now was how it was Rafe all along. The note. The jewelry.

For your pretty neck.

What in the actual hell.

You had never thought to suspect him because you didn’t think he actually had… feelings? Like human emotions? Like did he actually want you to like him? Was he capable of longing for a person? Unless that’s not what this was— maybe he just wanted to get laid. In the midst of this busy schedule, he probably didn’t have much time to get his rocks off. And maybe that’s why he needed you. To be there as a stress reliever. And he most likely thought you’d be more than up for it considering the way you kissed him. Like it was your last day on earth. Practically sucking face.

Oh god.

Later that night you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. There were too many questions on your mind. Along with those, of course, was a fluttering feeing in your stomach. Because even though you didn’t know his intentions, a part of you felt like you were actually being pursued. Like your attention was a valuable prize. A goal.

But this had already gone too far. And you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing something else on your doorstep tomorrow morning.

Maybe I should just stop leaving the house.

You shake your head and knock some sense into yourself. It’s time to take matters into your own hands! Sure, in person, you couldn’t get a word out to Rafe because of his intimidating presence (and hot face). But you could shoot him a text. There was more confidence behind the screen without his eyes swallowing you up.

You grab your cellphone.

You stood up and paced around your bedroom. Okay, all you have to do is send a strongly-worded text. Words. On a screen. You’ll be fine! It’s just a text! It’s not like he can reach through the screen and touch you, right? That kind of technology wouldn't come into existence overnight.

You took deep breaths as you typed his phone number into your cell. Okay. Okay. You can do this. Words on a screen. Words. Letters.

You stared at the message in horror, but sent it anyway. Why in the world were you texting like you needed a moment to talk about your lord and saviour Jesus Christ?

Why did you get so formal when you texted strangers? He’s going to think you’re the same goody-two-shoes all those years ago in chem class. But also, you didn’t need his approval. To be honest, you wanted nothing to do with Rafe. He was a big guy in many ways— his big personality, big presence, big impact. You weren’t sure you could handle it— or that you wanted to. You were quite content with the small circle of people in your life who helped maintain the peace. And Rafe? Rafe is… havoc.

But you also never knew he could be so smooth. All those years of girls chasing him you never thought it was because he had something to offer.

Clearly, you missed out.

The cell phone flew across the room and hit your headboard, plopping into the thin crevice between it and the mattress. His last text clearly had some sort of physical effect on you to the point where you thought that destroying your phone to bits would be better than responding.

Maybe this was a joke. Like a dare. Oh, that would be so cruel— but that was more up his alley, than being this sweet and generous loverboy.

You didn’t want to keep living in this fever dream, so you decided it was best to just call it a night.

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Day four.

You thought that after the text exchange last night, there would be a pause, a hesitance, a break.

But it seemed that Rafe only decided to crank things up. He didn’t see your texts as a sign to back down—no— he saw them as a challenge— to see how far he can push you; see how much you could take.

Outside your doorstep lay a large bouquet of tulips— red tulips. Knowing a little something about flowers and symbolism from English class during your senior year— these indicated love.

Love.

But maybe it wasn’t on purpose. Maybe they were just the first ones he laid his eyes on.

Attached was another note, and another box.

You shut your eyes tight hoping that you were just imagining things. But when you opened them again, the sight hadn’t changed.

Your muscle memory kicked in, and you carried all the presents inside, into the living room. You laid them on the coffee table and dissected each gift one by one.

The box, first.

It was smaller, like one for a ring. Which scared you— because rings could mean many things. Marriages, promises, friendships. None of which applied to you and Rafe.

The velvet box popped open and your assumptions were proven correct. A gold ring to match the necklace and bracelet. You stared at your reflection in the four leaf clover motif.

Your hands trembled and you took out the note next.

“Don’t freak out… just wanted to compliment the set.”

It was like he read your mind. Yes, it’s not like this was a proposal— no, this was a dire fashion choice.

Today was a busy day for you, unfortunately. You didn’t have time to show up at his door and talk some sense into him.

But then again, he clearly didn’t back down when you called him out. So maybe the best way to deal with this is to ignore him.

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By the fifth day—and your lack of reaction to the ring—Rafe was a little more desperate. After the last gift, he’d been sure you’d reach out and scold him like a Sunday school teacher. Which, disturbingly, he found kind of hot and made a mental note to bring up with a professional. Still, he was Rafe Cameron, and when he wanted something, he’d stop at nothing to get it. Nothing. So your silence didn’t make him recoil—it only enticed him more.

Like clockwork, you opened your front door and looked down on the porch.

A box and a note.

More fucking red tulips.

You picked them up and brought them inside. There was only one vase in your entire house which was already occupied by yesterday’s flowers.

The box contained a pair of earrings to match the set. You almost felt dizzy when you mentally calculated the total cost of all his gifts.

Earrings were your favourite accessory and the longer you stared at them, the harder it was to resist putting them on and strutting around your living room.

Next, the note.

“Playing hard to get?

Makes me want you more.”

You read the words again, and again, and again. They made you feel something— a feeling you couldn’t pinpoint.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, opening up your text messages.

Rolling your eyes, you toss your phone aside and got on with your day. You weren’t the type of person whose life is upended because of some guy.

Yeah, he’s just a guy— a guy who’s given you almost twenty thousand dollars worth of gifts without blinking. A guy who has been complimenting and pursuing you like his life depended on it. A guy who's making you feel wanted for the first time in a long time.

You take a deep breath, it’ll all blow over in a few days.

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Oh, how wrong your were.

You audibly gasped when you opened your front door the next day. It seemed that Rafe had run out of accessory ideas, because all there was on your porch was an envelope full of cash. You jumped and picked it up and brought it inside, immediately locking the door. Flipping it over, you read his messy handwriting you'd become so familiar with.

"Does this count as an atrocity or generosity?"

Smoke was coming out of your ears and you were red with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and fucking butterflies.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins had you stomping towards your car with all his gifts, or debts, in hand and placing them in the passenger seat. You were slamming doors left, right, and centre trying to make a statement, but when it came to the gifts, you gently wrapped a seatbelt around them. It disrupted your flow, but your bank account couldn't take the hit if anything was damaged.

White-knuckling the steering wheel all the way to Tannyhill, you took shallow breaths and practiced your assertive voice.

Today it would all end. Finally.

When you pulled up to the house, you noticed Rafe was outside, on the grass, speaking into his cellphone. Without a care in the world, you drove up his driveway and noticed his brows shoot up, wondering who you were. Then when you got out of the car, frantically, his brows returned to their spot and a smirk settled across his face.

You slammed the door and walked up to him with the envelope of cash clutched in your hand. He hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket, without saying goodbye.

"What is this?" The assertive voice went out the window, and instead you sounded shrill. But Rafe didn't seem to mind at all— if anything, he was intrigued... and a little turned on.

He looked from your eyes, to your lips, and then to the envelope. "Generosity?"

You clicked your tongue in frustration and responded, "this isn't funny! I told you to stop."

He was about to say something, but you cut him off and began pacing on the lawn.

"— and this? Cash? Are you insane? What if someone saw? They'd think I was a drug dealer or something!" You ran your hand through your hair almost ripping it out of your scalp.

"No one would think that." He shrugged.

You stared at him like he grew a second head.

"Is that the only thing you took away from what I said?" The vein in your forehead was about to pop.

"No, I heard the whole thing— but I just had to let you know that you don't give off the drug dealer vibe."

"Oh!" You let out a short, hysterical laugh. "Oh, that is so good to know. I'm so glad we got that cleared up." You exclaimed with biting sarcasm.

Rafe was finding you more entertaining than any TV show he'd binged in the past, well, ever. He could watch you all day and listen to you yell at him for an embarrassingly long time.

He finally spoke up with the question he'd been meaning to ask since the night of spin the bottle.

"Go out with me."

You halted in your maniacal pacing— you were sure you'd dug a hole in his lawn at this point. You looked up at him with eyes basically bulging out of your head.

"What?" Your voice reached a pitch that only a dog could hear.

He chuckled, "go out with me."

He couldn't have been real. What human being was this shameless and infuriating? If you had told yourself last week that the Rafe Cameron would be acting like a lovesick child for you, you'd laugh and laugh until you fainted.

You scoffed in disbelief and replied, "are you serious?" You scoffed again and then just gasped like you were out of breath. "What— you— what? You think you can just buy my affection?"

His amused eyes never left you once. He didn't blink— not wanting to miss even a second of this conversation with you.

"No, but I can buy your attention right? Because," he smiled and stepped closer, "you're here."

Without hesitation, you took a step back and distanced yourself, to Rafe's dismay. But he was patient when it came to you, so he stayed still.

You were speechless. How does one respond to that?

He tilts his head, "cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head, "I only came buy to return everything to you. Nothing more."

With that, you head towards your car and bring out the stack of boxes from the passenger seat. You walk back to him to hand them off. But he doesn't budge, instead just putting his hands in his pockets with a smug look.

What a little—

"Rafe." You say sternly.

He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue.

"Y/N." He mimics your tone.

You sigh and hold the boxes out again, "please. I can't accept them."

He shakes his head, "I bought them for you. I'm not taking anything back."

With a groan you reply, "I don't want them! I- I don't want this— whatever this is— between us."

Rafe was slightly discouraged with your words, but he told himself that you were just desperate, and would say anything to convince him. He knew a little something about that.

Light bulb.

"Okay," he crosses his arms over his chest.

You blink surprised, "okay?"

He nods, "I'll take them back if you go out with me—"

You roll your eyes and exhale heavily, but he continues.

"— just one date. One dinner. And I'll prove to you that you do want this— whatever this is— between us."

"Rafe, there's no point in going through all that hassle—"

"One dinner. And if by the end you still— for some reason— aren't completely in love with me, then I'll leave you alone."

You paused and narrowed your eyes at him. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nods.

This is it. This was your shot.

"Deal."

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This was initially supposed to be one-shot but got wayyy too long!! But there will be another part to this soon!

Thank you for reading <33

Let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see in the second part as I'm still brainstorming what should happen :)))

[leonalovesalot]

https://www.tumblr.com/leonalovesalot/789671339584798720/everybody-loves-you-but-nobody-likes-you - THIS IS SO GOOD!!! i’d so love to see a part 2 of this or something!!

Hi hi!! Thank you so much for the compliment!! I’ve been freaking out at how many people have read it and it means a lot!!

I have been seeing the requests for a part 2 and at the moment I’m working on another Rafe fic!! So after I finish that, maybe I’ll think about a part 2!!

[leonalovesalot]

I’m literally squealing with excitement right now!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I really really appreciate them! You’re literally one of my favourite writers on this app, so this means the world!! This campaign is so cool and so so needed! Thank you thank you thank you!!

Everybody loves you, but nobody likes you

RafeCameron x Reader

In which Rafe and JJ get into a fight that escalates—landing Rafe in the hospital. You’re the only one who cares enough to check if he’s okay.

wc: 3.8k

My little offering to @zyafics 's MRGA campaign! I think it's such a great idea, and I love all the works coming from it <3

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“Wait, what happened?” Your words cut through the chaos that glommed onto the pogues.

JJ grabbed the ice pack from Pope, and placed it on his jaw with a hiss. He nodded to Sarah to respond to you.

“JJ and Rafe got into it again.” She said bluntly, like it was an everyday occurrence that shouldn’t be met with the shock that you possessed.

You shake your head quickly. “No- no. The part about the bat.”

“Oh, that.” JJ chuckles sadistically, “yeah, I hit him with a bat— right over the head.” He pointed to the back of his head.

Pope chimed in, “it was a long time coming too.”

You stood there with your eyes widened. “Isn’t that a little too far? I- you guys usually use fists, not weapons.”

Everyone turned to face you with identically confused looks. What were you on about? What did you feel? Concern? Disapproval? Why? It’s Rafe. He makes the pogues life a living hell, and though you’re not a pogue, you still detest his behaviour.

Your relationship with Rafe wasn't complicated because, well, it didn’t exist. The two of you knew each other like all kooks kind of know each other. Nods at parties and waves at the wreck. Nothing more. You were always closer to Sarah because she was your age and Rafe was just her older, short-tempered, brother. You stayed out of his way as he seemed like the guy that loathed everyone. But what you didn’t know was that, out of all of Sarah’s friends, he liked you the most. Nothing crazy— not like he bending over backwards for your attention. But, he did sometimes feel a little fuzzy when you’d acknowledge him.

“What’s the big deal? Are we forgetting about the time he and Top literally hit Pope with golf clubs?” Kiara brought up a good point and you felt bad that you had kind of forgotten about that.

You clumsily respond, “that wasn’t to the head. And it didn’t land him in the hospital.” Satisfied with your reasoning, you shook your head and grabbed your jacket and keys, ready to leave.

Pope scoffed and JJ stared at you with a slightly hurt expression. “Can’t believe you’re taking his side.” Pope commented under his breath.

It made you stop in your steps. “I’m not taking sides— I’ve never been on any side ever. This exhausting rivalry is childish, and it’s making everyone act like fucking murderers.” With that, you left.

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There weren’t many thoughts in your mind as you drove to the hospital. If there were, you would’ve turned around and went home because why in the world were you going to see Rafe? And why was this making you so emotional? Maybe it was due to the substantiality of a hospital. None of these petty fights ever ended in the sirens and stretchers. None that you knew of, at least.

"Name?" The receptionist asked you through a yawn.

You state your name and nervously tap your foot. It was weird. The whole night was weird. You weren’t really sure what you wanted with Rafe, but every time your mind flashed to the image of him lying alone in a hospital room, clutching his head, your worry felt justified. Checking in on him just seemed like the decent thing to do.

This Pogue-versus-Kook war had gone on long enough, and if no one else was willing to cross the line, you would.

"What's your relation to the patient?" she asked, typing away at her computer, unaware of the unintentional difficulty of her question. What’s the word for two people who grew up together, but were also technically strangers?

"Does that matter?" You cringed as you asked.

Her fingers paused on the keyboard and she looked at you with an arched brow. "Ma'am, we have a lot of foot traffic at this moment and Mr. Cameron hasn't informed us of the arrival of any visitors. So, if it isn't pressing, I suggest you come back tomorrow— or see Mr. Cameron when he's discharged—"

“Girlfriend!” You panic and chirp, "I'm his girlfriend."

It felt unnatural to say but it was the only thing you could think of. Sister was out of the question and it wasn't like you could pass as his Mom.

You expected her to call your bluff and send you off, but she was... surprised?

"Oh? Is that right?"

Your brows furrowed as you racked your brain, trying to make sense of her reaction. Rafe was popular—successful with the ladies, too. Sure, the relationships didn't last long, but he never left a party alone.

"Yes," you nod kissing your teeth, "that is right."

She shrugs and continues, "it's just unexpected, that’s all." Leaning over to hand you a visitor tag, she mumbled, "I guess there really is someone for everybody."

"What does that— why do you say that?"

"You tell me. Mr. Cameron was brought here after brawl, that he most likely initiated. He rode the ambulance alone and no one, besides you paid him a visit." She added, "not even his parents."

Your lips parted at her words. It was kind of upsetting when she put it liked that. You swallow, "they're busy, probably."

“No parent should be too busy for their child — especially when that child is in the hospital with a concussion.” She left you with those heavy words and pointed you towards Rafe’s room.

When you reached his door, you paused before knocking— afraid to be faced with anger and rejection. This was Rafe after all. It's not like he was some well-adjusted guy who had no issue showing vulnerability. No, this was the guy who drowned his sorrows with alcohol and drugs. To top it off, he knew you were JJ's friend. Would he hate you just by association?

"I can see you standing out there." His slurred words make you freeze.

With a deep breath in, you entered the room. When his eyes met yours, surprise flashed across his face. He couldn't tell it was you from through the door. His vision was a little blurry too, so that didn't help.

"Hi," you offered weakly. You stayed standing at the doorway with your hands clasped in front of you.

"Y/N?" He adjusted with a groan as he sat up. "I don't get it. Why're you here?"

Okay. He wasn't immediately throwing things at you to kick you out of the room. There was no anger in his voice, or rejection in his tone. Just pure curiosity. You could handle curiosity.

"I heard about what happened." You kept it brief and decided not to mention JJ for now. You knew that people with concussions shouldn't be stressed out, even in the slightest. And you're pretty sure that just the mention of JJ's name would cause smoke to come out of his ears.

After a few seconds he just uttered a, "so?"

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. “So… so I wanted to see how- how you were.”

He raised his arm to gesture at himself in a how-do-you-think-I-am sort of way, but stopped when a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. He grunted. “Wish I could say ‘you should see the other guy,’ but today, the other guy is me.” His words were bitter, but his face told a different story—a faint curl of his lip. Barely there. But you didn’t miss it.

“Well,” you slowly walk into the room and stand at the foot of the bed, “you win some, you lose some.”

He clicked his tongue as a flicker of anger returned, making you regret not changing the subject when you had the chance. “Yeah, and I intend to win the next.”

His words were met with silence. It’s not like you were going to agree with him, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to disagree as that would lead to an argument. He’d always had a short fuse. His emotions controlled him and, although, you could relate to an extent, Rafe often took things too far.

Even though you stayed quiet, Rafe began to explain himself. “I was lying there, on the ground, while JJ was being carried off by his friends. No one rushed to help me, y’know? Not even my own sister. You realize how shitty that made me feel? Like I was worthless or something.” He turned away from you to look at the window, but you didn’t miss how his eyes blinked rapidly to push down his tears.

All you could do was nod. Not in agreement, but acknowledgement.

He continued, “If you were there tonight, who would you have helped?” His eyes met yours again, filled with desperation—like he just needed someone, anyone, to say they cared. To say he meant something to them.

But you couldn’t give him that, because he was in the wrong. And you wouldn’t be convinced otherwise. You settled on saying, “probably the person who didn’t start the fight.”

He takes in a shaky breath, “oh, so- so JJ.”

You didn’t nod. You didn’t move. Just tried to shoot him an apologetic smile.

“What if it was the other way around?” Rafe questioned again.

“Then I’d help you,” you paused and chuckled lightly, “and scold JJ.”

He mirrored you and weakly laughed too. “Is that why you’re here then? To scold me?”

The mood was lightening so you mentally patted yourself on the back for being the reason. It was eye-opening too because, in your head, Rafe was this belligerent tornado. And maybe it was the painkillers or the concussion, but right now he was being sweet. It made you wonder whether the Rafe you knew was just a persona— a mask he wore to stop others from getting close. And this Rafe was really him underneath it all. A little shy. A little insecure. And very cute.

“I was… but then your concussion ruined my plans.” It was very obviously a joke. However, it did have you facing the sudden realization that you came all the way here because you were worried. About him. Rafe.

Another chuckle escaped him. “Hm… that’s disappointing. I would’ve loved to see you really lay into me.” His smirk, this time, was more clear.

A chill ran up your spine. It was interesting how even after getting hit in the head with a bat, Rafe couldn’t stop himself from attempting to flirt with you. He’d act like this for anyone. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“Be careful what you wish for,” you snicker, trying (and failing) to sound smooth. “I can be really scary.”

Rafe adjusted on the bed to lay down again. He rested his head against the pillows to get a little comfortable. When he found the right position, he patted the small space on the bed next to his thighs, inviting you closer. Your eyes widened momentarily because you weren’t sure if you were reading him right. He noticed and softly nodded.

So you walked over to the bed and almost stumbled in doing so. Almost. Sometimes when you thought about yourself and exactly what you were doing, you’d make mistakes. And the way his eyes followed your every step only made you more nervous. This was Rafe, your thoughts kept screaming. You’d barely ever had a conversation this long with him. And now that you had, you didn’t want it to end.

When you took a seat at the edge of his bed, he shifted his legs to give you as much room as he could. You pursed your lips and scooted a little further. When you’d imagine how you looked from outside your body, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Rafe laying down, and you sitting with him. Like you were actually his girlfriend or something.

He hummed in satisfaction. “You don’t look so scary up close.” His voice was quieter—not because he didn’t want you to hear him, but because he only wanted you to hear him.

"Thank you." It was the only response you could think of, so you nodded and avoided his gaze. "I guess."

Rafe enjoyed you. Your words, your voice, your mannerisms. The comforting presence you carried that made him all soft. He always thought you were too good for everyone. Not in a snooty way, but in a moral one. No one had anything against you. Except in the recent years with your switching sides and all.

Growing up, you stayed in a little bubble that only had room for Sarah— never branching out due to your introversion. But when one day Pope offered to explain a vector multiplication question to you, you had an itch to befriend him. And so you did. After that, he introduced you to the others, and they took a liking to you too. Since then, you were all joint at the hips.

This all hit Rafe at once, and he couldn't stop his expression from twisting into a scowl. You didn't notice though— too busy hoping he couldn't see the faint blush rising on your cheeks.

It was like a switch was flipped, and he couldn't stop himself from ruining the perfect moment. "You shouldn't be friends with them." He said with slight disgust in his voice.

Your brows furrowed and you snapped your head to look at him. "What? Who?" For a moment you existed in a world where Rafe was just a person who happened to be injured. But Rafe wasn't just a person. He was a kook too, and it seemed like he'd never let you forget that.

"The pogues— fucking JJ." He spat bitterly.

You sighed, exhausted. "Why does it matter to you, Rafe?" Your eyes stared down at your hands in your lap as you mourned the peaceful conversation that ended too soon.

"It matters because you're not one of them. They- they're dangerous. You really wanna be friends with someone who goes around bashing heads in?" He wanted to grab your chin and make you look at him.

"JJ's never done that before." You mumbled.

A sharp scoff makes you flinch. "That doesn't mean he won't do it again! And the fact that he thinks he got away with it this time..." Rafe shakes his head as his voice trails on, "I'm gonna have him locked up just like his Father."

That was the final straw. Without hesitation, you stood up with the intention of leaving and never turning back. There was a reason no one gave a shit about him being in the hospital.

This was a waste of time.

Shock and panic consumed Rafe, and any contempt he held for the Pogues vanished instantly. His body moved before his thoughts could stop him—he sat up and reached forward, desperate to clutch you and keep you there. But the pain you’d distracted him from ripped through him, pulling a strangled groan from his throat. What hurt worse, though, was how you didn’t look back.

"Wait- wait, Y/N." He was breathless. Helpless.

Something about the sound of his voice made you halt in your tracks. "What?" You asked with your back still turned to him.

"Stay," he choked out. "Please."

It wasn't enough. You looked down and chewed on your lip deciding what to do.

Rafe realized he'd do anything to get you to stay— beg you even. And he didn't understand why or even how he felt this way. "Sorry. I just— sorry." He sounded defeated, but sincere.

Apologies didn't mean much to you if there wasn't some change in behaviour to accommodate them. However, you knew Rafe would rather jump off a cliff than admit to his mistakes. So this was a big deal. A big step.

You swallow and turn back around. Rafe visibly looked relieved which had you feeling a little funny. Walking over to his bed, you took a seat again. But not next to his thigh, like earlier, but a lot further down. He felt a sting and had to remind himself that at least you stayed.

You cleared your throat and took the silence as an opportunity to change the topic. Not that you still weren’t upset with him. But there was no point in beating a dead horse. “Do you know when you’ll be discharged?”

Rafe was grateful for how quickly you were able to shift the conversation back to how it was— before he fucked it up. “I'm here for overnight observation, they said. I’ll go home tomorrow.”

You nod at his words. “That’s nice.” Playfully you add, “I’ll get to reprimand you sooner than I thought.”

He laughed, this time more obviously like he wanted you to know you made him happy. It felt a bit like he was overcompensating, but you found it endearing. He wanted to respond and say something like I don’t mind as long as I get to see you again or you’re the only one I’d let do that, y’know? But the words got caught in his throat. And he had a feeling it was for the best because, again, you were too good for him.

“Do you ever miss your old life?” His question surprised you.

“My old life?” You tilted your head.

“Yeah." He nods and runs his tongue across his lower lip to make the chapped feeling go away (you felt ashamed for staring). "I used to see you at the parties— not just mine, but also Topper's." He paused. "Sarah always followed the action, and you always followed Sarah." He chuckles lightly, remembering you back then. He’d see you at those events and almost feel sorry for you—how out of place you looked. It was quite adorable.

Your mind flashed with images of those nights. The nights that turned into mornings. The walk back up your driveway as the sun climbed over the horizon behind you. It was all fitting for the carefree high schooler that you were— keyword being were. When you got to university, you no longer felt the need to pretend to be that person. You enjoyed the quiet. Nights spent with the pogues, sitting around a fire and laughing, was the perfect way to spend your time. You wouldn't want it any other way, and sometimes you wished you'd found them sooner.

"I miss being a teenager, sure. But the rest of it— not so much. I think I'm finally content with where I am and, although you won't be pleased to hear it, I owe a lot of it to the pogues." You smiled softly at the answer.

Rafe felt an unexpected pinch of jealousy at your answer. He wondered if he'd ever had that sort of impact on anyone. If he'd ever changed someone's life for the better. But he came up short.

You noticed Rafe was in his head. He didn't respond to you, so you hesitantly returned the question. "What about you?"

He snapped out of his depressing thoughts, and quirked a brow at you.

You continue, "are you happy with where you are?" You were aware at how heavy and private the question was. But your curiosity (nosiness) overpowered your respect for boundaries.

His gaze was making you feel small. But it was the same for him too. It's like he wanted to impress you, but also scare you like he usually did with others. Right now, though, behind his eyes were millions of thoughts and worries about whether he should actually tell you the truth or not. Who were you to ask him that anyway?

"I don't know." It was all he could offer. He hoped you wouldn't question him further.

"What do you mean you don't know?" You asked without skipping a beat.

He sighed and brought his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. A nervous tick, you thought. "I mean: I don't know." He took a deep breath, "I get high a lot— but you probably know that." Rafe's eyes left yours and landed on the window again. He was embarrassed and didn't want you to seem him this way— didn't want you to see the truth. "And- and then at parties, I get wasted. Golf with the guys is also just an excuse to drink during the day." It felt like he was in confession with a priest. "So I don't have much time to think about whether I'm happy. But I guess that's the point."

You were surprised at the transparency. Rafe Cameron told you things he never thought he'd say out loud. But maybe, it was because no one had cared enough to ask.

Unsure if you should comfort him or dig deeper and psychoanalyze him, you stay quiet. You sigh and stand up, which has Rafe panicking again. Had he scared you off? Was this too much for you? But then you moved closer to the spot you originally sat at, next to his waist, and planted yourself there again. Rafe mentally fist pumped, feeling like he won the lottery.

"Would you, uhm— and you can say no," you began timidly.

Rafe noticed your hesitation and reached out to place his hand atop yours. It was an encouraging gesture. An attempt to push you to continue. After his revealing monologue, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. A wonderful feeling that you gifted to him.

His hand on yours made your fingers twitch. You were afraid that if you made any big or sudden movement, he'd retract and go back into his shell, which was the last thing you wanted. It was a little cool— his hand— calloused and cool. But you liked it, nonetheless.

Gathering every ounce of courage in your body, you spoke again. "If you're up for it, would you want to hang out sometime?" Quickly adding, "after you're all better, of course!"

Rafe felt giddy.

The last time he felt this way was when his father took him out of school early on his birthday. When he was eight. It was a warm sensation, accompanied by the need to jump up and down from sheer joy. He wouldn't mind getting used to it.

He tried to keep his cool and stuttered out, "yeah— no, yeah. I'm up for it, sure. Yeah."

A big smile slapped across your face and before you could respond, the door opened and a nurse stepped into the room.

"Mr. Cameron, you should turn in for the night. Your recovery requires a lot of sleep. Your girlfriend can come back tomorrow morning." With that she left the room, leaving you to pick your jaw up from off the floor.

"Girlfriend, huh?" Rafe teased.

You jumped off the hospital bed and avoided looking at him— too flustered to do so. You knew your face was a blushing mess, so you quickly walked to the door, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Ugh, you hoped the ground would swallow you up.

"I'll see you soon! Hope you feel better!" Your words came out all breathy as you ran out of the room, and down the hall.

Rafe was too enamoured to sleep that night.

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First time writing for Rafe!!

Thank you for reading <3

I'd love to write more for him too because helloooooo look at him!!

[leonalovesalot]

Everybody loves you, but nobody likes you

RafeCameron x Reader

In which Rafe and JJ get into a fight that escalates—landing Rafe in the hospital. You’re the only one who cares enough to check if he’s okay.

wc: 3.8k

My little offering to @zyafics 's MRGA campaign! I think it's such a great idea, and I love all the works coming from it <3

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“Wait, what happened?” Your words cut through the chaos that glommed onto the pogues.

JJ grabbed the ice pack from Pope, and placed it on his jaw with a hiss. He nodded to Sarah to respond to you.

“JJ and Rafe got into it again.” She said bluntly, like it was an everyday occurrence that shouldn’t be met with the shock that you possessed.

You shake your head quickly. “No- no. The part about the bat.”

“Oh, that.” JJ chuckles sadistically, “yeah, I hit him with a bat— right over the head.” He pointed to the back of his head.

Pope chimed in, “it was a long time coming too.”

You stood there with your eyes widened. “Isn’t that a little too far? I- you guys usually use fists, not weapons.”

Everyone turned to face you with identically confused looks. What were you on about? What did you feel? Concern? Disapproval? Why? It’s Rafe. He makes the pogues life a living hell, and though you’re not a pogue, you still detest his behaviour.

Your relationship with Rafe wasn't complicated because, well, it didn’t exist. The two of you knew each other like all kooks kind of know each other. Nods at parties and waves at the wreck. Nothing more. You were always closer to Sarah because she was your age and Rafe was just her older, short-tempered, brother. You stayed out of his way as he seemed like the guy that loathed everyone. But what you didn’t know was that, out of all of Sarah’s friends, he liked you the most. Nothing crazy— not like he bending over backwards for your attention. But, he did sometimes feel a little fuzzy when you’d acknowledge him.

“What’s the big deal? Are we forgetting about the time he and Top literally hit Pope with golf clubs?” Kiara brought up a good point and you felt bad that you had kind of forgotten about that.

You clumsily respond, “that wasn’t to the head. And it didn’t land him in the hospital.” Satisfied with your reasoning, you shook your head and grabbed your jacket and keys, ready to leave.

Pope scoffed and JJ stared at you with a slightly hurt expression. “Can’t believe you’re taking his side.” Pope commented under his breath.

It made you stop in your steps. “I’m not taking sides— I’ve never been on any side ever. This exhausting rivalry is childish, and it’s making everyone act like fucking murderers.” With that, you left.

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There weren’t many thoughts in your mind as you drove to the hospital. If there were, you would’ve turned around and went home because why in the world were you going to see Rafe? And why was this making you so emotional? Maybe it was due to the substantiality of a hospital. None of these petty fights ever ended in the sirens and stretchers. None that you knew of, at least.

"Name?" The receptionist asked you through a yawn.

You state your name and nervously tap your foot. It was weird. The whole night was weird. You weren’t really sure what you wanted with Rafe, but every time your mind flashed to the image of him lying alone in a hospital room, clutching his head, your worry felt justified. Checking in on him just seemed like the decent thing to do.

This Pogue-versus-Kook war had gone on long enough, and if no one else was willing to cross the line, you would.

"What's your relation to the patient?" she asked, typing away at her computer, unaware of the unintentional difficulty of her question. What’s the word for two people who grew up together, but were also technically strangers?

"Does that matter?" You cringed as you asked.

Her fingers paused on the keyboard and she looked at you with an arched brow. "Ma'am, we have a lot of foot traffic at this moment and Mr. Cameron hasn't informed us of the arrival of any visitors. So, if it isn't pressing, I suggest you come back tomorrow— or see Mr. Cameron when he's discharged—"

“Girlfriend!” You panic and chirp, "I'm his girlfriend."

It felt unnatural to say but it was the only thing you could think of. Sister was out of the question and it wasn't like you could pass as his Mom.

You expected her to call your bluff and send you off, but she was... surprised?

"Oh? Is that right?"

Your brows furrowed as you racked your brain, trying to make sense of her reaction. Rafe was popular—successful with the ladies, too. Sure, the relationships didn't last long, but he never left a party alone.

"Yes," you nod kissing your teeth, "that is right."

She shrugs and continues, "it's just unexpected, that’s all." Leaning over to hand you a visitor tag, she mumbled, "I guess there really is someone for everybody."

"What does that— why do you say that?"

"You tell me. Mr. Cameron was brought here after brawl, that he most likely initiated. He rode the ambulance alone and no one, besides you paid him a visit." She added, "not even his parents."

Your lips parted at her words. It was kind of upsetting when she put it liked that. You swallow, "they're busy, probably."

“No parent should be too busy for their child — especially when that child is in the hospital with a concussion.” She left you with those heavy words and pointed you towards Rafe’s room.

When you reached his door, you paused before knocking— afraid to be faced with anger and rejection. This was Rafe after all. It's not like he was some well-adjusted guy who had no issue showing vulnerability. No, this was the guy who drowned his sorrows with alcohol and drugs. To top it off, he knew you were JJ's friend. Would he hate you just by association?

"I can see you standing out there." His slurred words make you freeze.

With a deep breath in, you entered the room. When his eyes met yours, surprise flashed across his face. He couldn't tell it was you from through the door. His vision was a little blurry too, so that didn't help.

"Hi," you offered weakly. You stayed standing at the doorway with your hands clasped in front of you.

"Y/N?" He adjusted with a groan as he sat up. "I don't get it. Why're you here?"

Okay. He wasn't immediately throwing things at you to kick you out of the room. There was no anger in his voice, or rejection in his tone. Just pure curiosity. You could handle curiosity.

"I heard about what happened." You kept it brief and decided not to mention JJ for now. You knew that people with concussions shouldn't be stressed out, even in the slightest. And you're pretty sure that just the mention of JJ's name would cause smoke to come out of his ears.

After a few seconds he just uttered a, "so?"

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. “So… so I wanted to see how- how you were.”

He raised his arm to gesture at himself in a how-do-you-think-I-am sort of way, but stopped when a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. He grunted. “Wish I could say ‘you should see the other guy,’ but today, the other guy is me.” His words were bitter, but his face told a different story—a faint curl of his lip. Barely there. But you didn’t miss it.

“Well,” you slowly walk into the room and stand at the foot of the bed, “you win some, you lose some.”

He clicked his tongue as a flicker of anger returned, making you regret not changing the subject when you had the chance. “Yeah, and I intend to win the next.”

His words were met with silence. It’s not like you were going to agree with him, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to disagree as that would lead to an argument. He’d always had a short fuse. His emotions controlled him and, although, you could relate to an extent, Rafe often took things too far.

Even though you stayed quiet, Rafe began to explain himself. “I was lying there, on the ground, while JJ was being carried off by his friends. No one rushed to help me, y’know? Not even my own sister. You realize how shitty that made me feel? Like I was worthless or something.” He turned away from you to look at the window, but you didn’t miss how his eyes blinked rapidly to push down his tears.

All you could do was nod. Not in agreement, but acknowledgement.

He continued, “If you were there tonight, who would you have helped?” His eyes met yours again, filled with desperation—like he just needed someone, anyone, to say they cared. To say he meant something to them.

But you couldn’t give him that, because he was in the wrong. And you wouldn’t be convinced otherwise. You settled on saying, “probably the person who didn’t start the fight.”

He takes in a shaky breath, “oh, so- so JJ.”

You didn’t nod. You didn’t move. Just tried to shoot him an apologetic smile.

“What if it was the other way around?” Rafe questioned again.

“Then I’d help you,” you paused and chuckled lightly, “and scold JJ.”

He mirrored you and weakly laughed too. “Is that why you’re here then? To scold me?”

The mood was lightening so you mentally patted yourself on the back for being the reason. It was eye-opening too because, in your head, Rafe was this belligerent tornado. And maybe it was the painkillers or the concussion, but right now he was being sweet. It made you wonder whether the Rafe you knew was just a persona— a mask he wore to stop others from getting close. And this Rafe was really him underneath it all. A little shy. A little insecure. And very cute.

“I was… but then your concussion ruined my plans.” It was very obviously a joke. However, it did have you facing the sudden realization that you came all the way here because you were worried. About him. Rafe.

Another chuckle escaped him. “Hm… that’s disappointing. I would’ve loved to see you really lay into me.” His smirk, this time, was more clear.

A chill ran up your spine. It was interesting how even after getting hit in the head with a bat, Rafe couldn’t stop himself from attempting to flirt with you. He’d act like this for anyone. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“Be careful what you wish for,” you snicker, trying (and failing) to sound smooth. “I can be really scary.”

Rafe adjusted on the bed to lay down again. He rested his head against the pillows to get a little comfortable. When he found the right position, he patted the small space on the bed next to his thighs, inviting you closer. Your eyes widened momentarily because you weren’t sure if you were reading him right. He noticed and softly nodded.

So you walked over to the bed and almost stumbled in doing so. Almost. Sometimes when you thought about yourself and exactly what you were doing, you’d make mistakes. And the way his eyes followed your every step only made you more nervous. This was Rafe, your thoughts kept screaming. You’d barely ever had a conversation this long with him. And now that you had, you didn’t want it to end.

When you took a seat at the edge of his bed, he shifted his legs to give you as much room as he could. You pursed your lips and scooted a little further. When you’d imagine how you looked from outside your body, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Rafe laying down, and you sitting with him. Like you were actually his girlfriend or something.

He hummed in satisfaction. “You don’t look so scary up close.” His voice was quieter—not because he didn’t want you to hear him, but because he only wanted you to hear him.

"Thank you." It was the only response you could think of, so you nodded and avoided his gaze. "I guess."

Rafe enjoyed you. Your words, your voice, your mannerisms. The comforting presence you carried that made him all soft. He always thought you were too good for everyone. Not in a snooty way, but in a moral one. No one had anything against you. Except in the recent years with your switching sides and all.

Growing up, you stayed in a little bubble that only had room for Sarah— never branching out due to your introversion. But when one day Pope offered to explain a vector multiplication question to you, you had an itch to befriend him. And so you did. After that, he introduced you to the others, and they took a liking to you too. Since then, you were all joint at the hips.

This all hit Rafe at once, and he couldn't stop his expression from twisting into a scowl. You didn't notice though— too busy hoping he couldn't see the faint blush rising on your cheeks.

It was like a switch was flipped, and he couldn't stop himself from ruining the perfect moment. "You shouldn't be friends with them." He said with slight disgust in his voice.

Your brows furrowed and you snapped your head to look at him. "What? Who?" For a moment you existed in a world where Rafe was just a person who happened to be injured. But Rafe wasn't just a person. He was a kook too, and it seemed like he'd never let you forget that.

"The pogues— fucking JJ." He spat bitterly.

You sighed, exhausted. "Why does it matter to you, Rafe?" Your eyes stared down at your hands in your lap as you mourned the peaceful conversation that ended too soon.

"It matters because you're not one of them. They- they're dangerous. You really wanna be friends with someone who goes around bashing heads in?" He wanted to grab your chin and make you look at him.

"JJ's never done that before." You mumbled.

A sharp scoff makes you flinch. "That doesn't mean he won't do it again! And the fact that he thinks he got away with it this time..." Rafe shakes his head as his voice trails on, "I'm gonna have him locked up just like his Father."

That was the final straw. Without hesitation, you stood up with the intention of leaving and never turning back. There was a reason no one gave a shit about him being in the hospital.

This was a waste of time.

Shock and panic consumed Rafe, and any contempt he held for the Pogues vanished instantly. His body moved before his thoughts could stop him—he sat up and reached forward, desperate to clutch you and keep you there. But the pain you’d distracted him from ripped through him, pulling a strangled groan from his throat. What hurt worse, though, was how you didn’t look back.

"Wait- wait, Y/N." He was breathless. Helpless.

Something about the sound of his voice made you halt in your tracks. "What?" You asked with your back still turned to him.

"Stay," he choked out. "Please."

It wasn't enough. You looked down and chewed on your lip deciding what to do.

Rafe realized he'd do anything to get you to stay— beg you even. And he didn't understand why or even how he felt this way. "Sorry. I just— sorry." He sounded defeated, but sincere.

Apologies didn't mean much to you if there wasn't some change in behaviour to accommodate them. However, you knew Rafe would rather jump off a cliff than admit to his mistakes. So this was a big deal. A big step.

You swallow and turn back around. Rafe visibly looked relieved which had you feeling a little funny. Walking over to his bed, you took a seat again. But not next to his thigh, like earlier, but a lot further down. He felt a sting and had to remind himself that at least you stayed.

You cleared your throat and took the silence as an opportunity to change the topic. Not that you still weren’t upset with him. But there was no point in beating a dead horse. “Do you know when you’ll be discharged?”

Rafe was grateful for how quickly you were able to shift the conversation back to how it was— before he fucked it up. “I'm here for overnight observation, they said. I’ll go home tomorrow.”

You nod at his words. “That’s nice.” Playfully you add, “I’ll get to reprimand you sooner than I thought.”

He laughed, this time more obviously like he wanted you to know you made him happy. It felt a bit like he was overcompensating, but you found it endearing. He wanted to respond and say something like I don’t mind as long as I get to see you again or you’re the only one I’d let do that, y’know? But the words got caught in his throat. And he had a feeling it was for the best because, again, you were too good for him.

“Do you ever miss your old life?” His question surprised you.

“My old life?” You tilted your head.

“Yeah." He nods and runs his tongue across his lower lip to make the chapped feeling go away (you felt ashamed for staring). "I used to see you at the parties— not just mine, but also Topper's." He paused. "Sarah always followed the action, and you always followed Sarah." He chuckles lightly, remembering you back then. He’d see you at those events and almost feel sorry for you—how out of place you looked. It was quite adorable.

Your mind flashed with images of those nights. The nights that turned into mornings. The walk back up your driveway as the sun climbed over the horizon behind you. It was all fitting for the carefree high schooler that you were— keyword being were. When you got to university, you no longer felt the need to pretend to be that person. You enjoyed the quiet. Nights spent with the pogues, sitting around a fire and laughing, was the perfect way to spend your time. You wouldn't want it any other way, and sometimes you wished you'd found them sooner.

"I miss being a teenager, sure. But the rest of it— not so much. I think I'm finally content with where I am and, although you won't be pleased to hear it, I owe a lot of it to the pogues." You smiled softly at the answer.

Rafe felt an unexpected pinch of jealousy at your answer. He wondered if he'd ever had that sort of impact on anyone. If he'd ever changed someone's life for the better. But he came up short.

You noticed Rafe was in his head. He didn't respond to you, so you hesitantly returned the question. "What about you?"

He snapped out of his depressing thoughts, and quirked a brow at you.

You continue, "are you happy with where you are?" You were aware at how heavy and private the question was. But your curiosity (nosiness) overpowered your respect for boundaries.

His gaze was making you feel small. But it was the same for him too. It's like he wanted to impress you, but also scare you like he usually did with others. Right now, though, behind his eyes were millions of thoughts and worries about whether he should actually tell you the truth or not. Who were you to ask him that anyway?

"I don't know." It was all he could offer. He hoped you wouldn't question him further.

"What do you mean you don't know?" You asked without skipping a beat.

He sighed and brought his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. A nervous tick, you thought. "I mean: I don't know." He took a deep breath, "I get high a lot— but you probably know that." Rafe's eyes left yours and landed on the window again. He was embarrassed and didn't want you to seem him this way— didn't want you to see the truth. "And- and then at parties, I get wasted. Golf with the guys is also just an excuse to drink during the day." It felt like he was in confession with a priest. "So I don't have much time to think about whether I'm happy. But I guess that's the point."

You were surprised at the transparency. Rafe Cameron told you things he never thought he'd say out loud. But maybe, it was because no one had cared enough to ask.

Unsure if you should comfort him or dig deeper and psychoanalyze him, you stay quiet. You sigh and stand up, which has Rafe panicking again. Had he scared you off? Was this too much for you? But then you moved closer to the spot you originally sat at, next to his waist, and planted yourself there again. Rafe mentally fist pumped, feeling like he won the lottery.

"Would you, uhm— and you can say no," you began timidly.

Rafe noticed your hesitation and reached out to place his hand atop yours. It was an encouraging gesture. An attempt to push you to continue. After his revealing monologue, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. A wonderful feeling that you gifted to him.

His hand on yours made your fingers twitch. You were afraid that if you made any big or sudden movement, he'd retract and go back into his shell, which was the last thing you wanted. It was a little cool— his hand— calloused and cool. But you liked it, nonetheless.

Gathering every ounce of courage in your body, you spoke again. "If you're up for it, would you want to hang out sometime?" Quickly adding, "after you're all better, of course!"

Rafe felt giddy.

The last time he felt this way was when his father took him out of school early on his birthday. When he was eight. It was a warm sensation, accompanied by the need to jump up and down from sheer joy. He wouldn't mind getting used to it.

He tried to keep his cool and stuttered out, "yeah— no, yeah. I'm up for it, sure. Yeah."

A big smile slapped across your face and before you could respond, the door opened and a nurse stepped into the room.

"Mr. Cameron, you should turn in for the night. Your recovery requires a lot of sleep. Your girlfriend can come back tomorrow morning." With that she left the room, leaving you to pick your jaw up from off the floor.

"Girlfriend, huh?" Rafe teased.

You jumped off the hospital bed and avoided looking at him— too flustered to do so. You knew your face was a blushing mess, so you quickly walked to the door, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Ugh, you hoped the ground would swallow you up.

"I'll see you soon! Hope you feel better!" Your words came out all breathy as you ran out of the room, and down the hall.

Rafe was too enamoured to sleep that night.

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First time writing for Rafe!!

Thank you for reading <3

I'd love to write more for him too because helloooooo look at him!!

[leonalovesalot]

I, too, have been bitten by the superman bug. That movie was just too good and I'm itching to see it again. Maybe I'll write something 😝

[leonalovesalot]

Can't we just laugh and joke around?

ArtDonaldson x Reader

Based on this request

So sorry for getting to this so late, but I hope you like it <33

18+ MinorsDNI

wc: 3.6k

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The night was long and you were tired. Your heels were causing a stabbing pain in your feet which had you gritting your teeth with every step you took. The dress too—as beautiful as it was— made it difficult to breathe. Tight. Hugging every inch of your body, which worsened when you went back for a second dessert. How could you resist the tres leches staring at you from the buffet?

Oh, and Art?

Art was nowhere to be seen. Out of sight, but not mind. You loved him— you did. You wouldn’t just agree to be fiancée-ed by just anyone. But lately— as of a few hours ago— you wanted to scream at him.

He promised you. Promised. That he would hold your hand the whole evening and bring you everywhere he went. Not letting you out of his sight for even a millisecond. Promised. But where was he?

To be fair, the first two hours were great. He had his arm around your waist and guided you through the crowds. Every few seconds he’d plant the softest kiss on your temple whispering compliments into your ear.

You look so beautiful.

Just wait ‘til we get home.

You’re doing so great.

Words that you were gladly accepting and blushing to.

But they were just words. And words never meant much to you.

Actions did.

And Art’s actions spoke otherwise. Because he was chatting with three people, laughing and taking swigs of his drink, carefree. Completely oblivious to you, who stood across the room staring at him with aching toes and glossy eyes.

Not wanting to interrupt his conversation, you pulled your phone out from your purse and texted him.

Y/N <3

Should we get going?

You bit your lip. You really wanted out and that required a proper reason.

Y/N <3

I’m not feeling well.

Art felt a buzzing sensation in his pocket and excused himself from the couple who shared stories of their honeymoon. Art was mentally taking notes, of course. Seeing the messages displayed on the screen, his brows furrowed and he looked up and around for you. When his eyes finally met yours, you awkwardly waved. He nodded, then bade farewell, making his way towards you.

Internally, you let out a sigh of relief because the tortuous night was finally coming to a close. But your anger— or disappointment— in Art was nowhere near resolution.

He waved and nodded at everyone as he walked to you. Acting like he was the fucking president or something—you loved him! You were just in so much pain, it was making you dizzy.

“Sorry, I got caught up with the Mayers. You know they went to—” Art places his hand on your lower back and you two walked towards the exit.

Cutting him off and walking a little quicker to outrun his touch, you respond, “god, I can’t remember where we parked.”

Art’s hand lingers in the air and his mouth quickly closes. He was quite surprised at your ignorance of his words. You absolutely despised being interrupted when you spoke, yet here you were doing it to him. The hypocrisy.

His hand found a temporary home in his pocket and he tried to walk at your pace. “Right there,” he nods towards his car, parked next to a Bentley. The gala tonight brought out the richest in the city, and Art had nothing to worry about.

Wordlessly, you walk up to the passenger seat and wait for him to unlock it. When he did, without missing a beat, you opened the door and sat down. Ahh, sweet sweet bliss. You finally regained feeling in your toes and, oh, was it wonderful.

After a few seconds, Art gets into the drivers seat and puts on his seatbelt. He didn’t really know what to say because it was easy to deduce that you were upset. Always quick to make diagnoses, but useless when it came to the treatment.

He starts up the car and pulls out of the parking lot. From his peripheral, he saw you had your eyes closed with hand clasped in your lap. Odd. You liked to stare out the window and admire the cityscape. He’d complain about the light pollution, but you saw the beauty in it.

He swallows and decides to speak up. Test the waters. “So, the Mayers went to Hawaii for their honeymoon. Yeah, they- they went snorkelling, laid by the beach, and they even hiked a volcano—” Art stopped talking when he heard a bitter chuckle from you. He turned to you for a second— your eyes still closed.

“Of course they did. That’s what I expect from snobby, rich people. Completely wound up in their own little world— ignoring the many many pleas of the residents who have made it clear that over-tourism is an issue.” You were out of breath as you spoke the last words.

It was understood that anything Art brought up right now would be faced with contradiction.

It ticked him off too. He just wanted to share a quick story to stir some ideas for your own honeymoon. And you shut him down without a care in the world.

“Y/N, I was just telling you about my conversation with them— it’s not like I’m gonna book tickets to Hawaii now.” He turned the steering wheel towards his home that you now shared.

“I know that. I was just giving you my thoughts. Isn’t that what a conversation is?” Your words were so cold and so was your tone. It surprised you.

Art didn’t respond. He just pulled into the driveway and unbuckled his seatbelt. Usually he’d open your door for you, but you were already walking to the front door before he got out.

He quickly followed and handed you the keys, while he checked the mailbox. Empty.

You walked in, silently and kicked off your heels with a hiss. Your Achilles tendons were a dark shade of red and you knew they would only worsen. Art didn’t notice you in pain and just went about hanging up his coat on the hook.

“You wanna have a little wine?” He came up behind you and gently placed both hands on either sides of your waist. You loved physical affection. But Art had terrible timing.

You shake your head and walk away from him, heading up the stairs towards your bedroom. Art sighs. He didn’t understand what happened. Before leaving for the gala, you two couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You practically had to run out of the house before he messed up your lipstick for the tenth time while kissing you. And now it was like he was ranked lower than a stranger. Odd.

He slowly makes his way up the stairs after a few minutes. He finds you sitting at the edge of the bed sliding off your stockings. In some alternate dimension, he’d be taking them off with his teeth. But, here, in the Milky Way galaxy, he was forced to just watch.

Art begins, “you said you weren’t feeling well. Did you eat something bad?” He stays standing in the doorway like he was waiting for your permission to enter.

You stand up and walk to the closet to place the stockings in your drawer. “No.”

“Then what? You had a headache?” He was half concerned about your health and half just trying to get a conversation started.

You shake your head again, moving on to take off your earrings.

Art asks with a puzzled expression, “then what?”

You sigh and toss the earrings on top of the dresser. “It was an excuse, Art.”

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. Your eyes flickered over and you kicked yourself internally. He looked… really fucking good. Dress pants and a tight white button up that just got tighter. As if that was even possible.

“So, you lied?” He asked a question but his tone was laced with accusation.

You shrugged, “it was an excuse. Not a lie.”

He nods, unconvinced, “yeah? And what’s the difference?”

“Well, one is deemed a sin, and the other gets me out of shitty galas I didn’t wanna go to in the first place.” The words came out harsher than you intended, but you stood by your point.

Art was caught off guard by your response. A little offended too. You could be quite intimidating when you wanted to be.

He scoffs and replies, “well I’m sorry for wanting to have a nice night out.” He mumbles, “since you’re too busy for me these days.”

You let out a short laugh— one with no humour behind it. “Yeah but, y'know, we can’t all be retired tennis players with an endless supply of cash.”

Now he was actually upset. He could take small jabs and even silent treatments. But this was going too far because you knew how complicated his relationship was with the sport. The retirement took a toll on him and, yes he was comfortable, but he worked hard to get where he was today. Nothing was handed to him. You knew that. So right now, you were clearly just trying to hurt him. Intentionally. And that’s what saddened Art the most.

“Y/N, what’s going on with you?” He walked into the room, no longer waiting around for your approval. “You’ve been sulking all night.”

“You!” You snap from frustration and Art takes a step back. “You are the cause, Art.” Walking back to the edge of your bed you huff and sit down.

Art stands speechless. He really had no idea what was up with you.

You begin, “you always do this.” You avoided his gaze at all costs. “I hate these events that we go to. You know that. And the one—fucking one— thing that I expect is for you to stay by my side. So- so I don’t stand around like an idiot. And you can’t even do that.”

It was true. You were ten times more introverted than Art, and these social gatherings were your kryptonite. You never knew the right words to say that would keep the conversation flowing. Always feeling insecure that whoever you talked to was just tolerating you. You felt that you were uninteresting. And you were afraid that people would catch on.

Art knew he fucked up. He really did do it again. He sighs and walks forward. Taking a seat next to you. He brings his arm around your shoulder, slightly hesitating.

“I’m— I just lost track of everything. I’m sorry, baby. Really.” He rubbed soft circles with his thumb and noticed you were starting to visibly calm down.

“I don’t care, Art. It’s the one thing—”

“I know. I know. I- I’m really really sorry.” He quickly gets off and crouches on the floor in front of you. Looking up at you. Sincerity in his eyes. “It’s not much consolation, but the whole time I was talking to the Mayers, I was just planning our honeymoon in my head. You’re always on my mind. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I promise. Never again.”

You were never good at holding grudges. Always so quick to forgive. And Art was no exception. Your eyes met his and you still had a pout on your face. “We’re not going to Hawaii,” you grumble.

Art smiles, relieved that you listened to him. “Of course. No Hawaii. Only somewhere with absolutely zero tourism— Antarctica, Neptune,—”

He had you giggling like nothing ever happened. You loved him. And you were ecstatic about being his fiancée. Nothing— no little fight— would change that.

His eyes lit up and he begins running his hands up and down bare your thighs. Feeling naughty. His hands got higher and higher until he found the waistband of your lace panties. You wore them just for him. It was bizarre to think he almost let a stupid fight get in the way of all this. He’d never leave you in a crowd again. Never.

“Yeah, maybe Pluto— it’s nice and cool this time of year.” He bites his lip and slides your panties off. Art begins to stand up and pushes you back towards the headboard. You comply, enjoying where this was headed. Some pleasure was just what you needed to forget about the pain.

“Mhm, I heard about that too.” You giggled and rested your head against the various pillows on your bed.

Art got to work. Sliding your dress higher and higher until he came face to face with your bare pussy. It was already dripping and he was salivating, all ready to dive in. And that’s exactly what he did, without hesitation. His tongue laid flat and licked a stripe all the way to your clit. It tickled and you were already twitching. He smiled and brought his hands to grip both your thighs, bringing them to rest on his shoulders. He loved the sensation of being suffocated between your legs. Absolutely heavenly. He’d be more than happy to die this way.

Your hands wandered into his hair and pulled at the soft strands as he made out with your cunt. Your skin hot and breath uneven. Practice really did make perfect, because each time was better than the last. Art was made to please you.

He pulls away a few centimetres and spits onto your pussy, loving the way it looked as his hot spit dropped down your cunt. “So pretty for me like this.”

You moaned and flinched when you felt the sensation. Eyes closed and brows furrowed, you were focusing on how perfect everything was at that moment.

“I should ditch you more often.” He chuckles and brings his thumb up to circle your clit. “If it’ll get you all needy like this.” He said lowly and latched his lips around you again like they never left.

Unbeknownst to Art, your eyes had shot open at his comment and all the anger and frustration from earlier came creeping back. He always had a mouth on him in bed. Nothing you weren’t used to. You could take teasing, and even some degradation. But this time— this comment— it wasn’t doing it for you. Because to you it felt like he hadn’t truly understood that he made a mistake.

Art wasn’t slowing down and he kept lapping you up, enjoying the taste. His favourite. After a few seconds though, he noticed you weren’t pulling at his hair hard like you usually did. Nor were you letting out those breathy moans of yours that he loved so much. Actually, come to think of it, he couldn’t even feel your hands anywhere near him. He paused and looks up at you with his pink lips and chin covered with your arousal. Glistening.

You were staring off at the side and biting the inside of your cheek.

Confused, he asks, “you okay? What’s wrong?”

You scoff and raise your legs off of him and he shivers from the loss of contact. The warmth now replaced chill.

“I’m just kind of tired.” You shrug and swing your legs over the side of the bed to stand up.

Art was absolutely perplexed. He quickly gets up, now on all fours and tries to grab your wrist to hold you in place. But you were just out of reach. You walked over to the wardrobe again and picked out your pyjamas.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” He turns and sits criss-cross on the bed. His eyes remain on you as his mind rewinds the whole thing trying to find the exact moment he fucked up.

“Nothing. I’m just not in the mood.” You were turned away from him, picking out a baggy t-shirt. One he bought for you after a concert you two attended on your third date.

He scoff, “I know that’s not true— you’re wet. I can see it dripping down your leg.” He tilts his head feeing cocky at his words. He knew he got you.

You freeze and look down. It was true. The round drops made their way down to the patch of skin next to your knee. Ugh. Him and his fucking tongue. Truth be told, your pussy was aching for some relief. But you just couldn’t give in until he learned his mistake.

Ignoring him, you reach to the back and unzip your dress. Ready to change into something comfier and hoping it would trick your brain into making you less horny.

Art’s fingers twitch. He wanted to reach out and undress you himself, the way he usually did. But clearly that wouldn’t be happening tonight.

He finally finishes analyzing every word he said to you tonight and it clicks. Eureka.

“Baby,” he scoots forward to the edge of the bed. “I was only kidding. I apologized and I promised I’d never just leave your side again.” He tried his best to sound genuine— as genuine as he could with the throbbing tent in his pants.

You don’t say anything. Dress falls to the floor, and Art’s breath hitches. You ignore it and slip on the T-shirt.

Art was impatient. He needed some friction, and he needed it now.

He clumsily tries to explain himself further. “Y/N, come on. It was just a joke.”

Finally, you spoke, “too soon.” You turn around meeting his eyes. And you also don’t fail to notice his very obvious erection.

He chuckles, exasperated. “Okay, okay. Okay, I’m sorry. Too soon— I got it.” He placed his hands up in the air like he was surrendering.

“Hm.” You walk over to the side of the bed and pull the covers back like you were getting ready to sleep.

Art’s brows knit together. He was too far gone to forget about everything and go to sleep. His tip was leaking for fucks sake! And he had no idea how you were being so calm and collected, when he knew you wanted nothing more than to feel him stretch you out. The self control was truly something.

“Are you going to bed?” He swallowed.

You looked at him and nodded.

Art groaned, “baby, I said it was a joke. Never again, I promise.” He felt like he could scream from the frustration accumulated in his dick. He would seriously do anything to be inside you right now. “What more do you want from me? You want me to get on my knees and beg? Come on!” He was clearly irritated now and if it wasn’t so annoying, it would be kind of funny.

He gets nothing in response. You sit down on the side of the bed and before you can lay down, Art is climbing over the edge to your side. He puts his hands on your thighs again, keeping you from moving. So you just sit there now, surprised and looking down at him. He really was going to do this.

You stare below at Art before you. Kneeling with his hands holding you in place by your thighs. A tight grip which was bordering on the edge of painful. You sigh, "Art, what're you doing?"

"Exactly what you want me to do." He was quick with the responses. Cool under pressure.

"What makes you think I want this?" You remained stoic, but your voice slightly betrayed you when it wavered. You gulp. Seeing him like this wasn't helping your situation down there. If anything, you were getter wetter.

"Because..." He scoots closer and reaches to grasp your hands. You let him— that was a good sign. "It shows that I'm clearly the needy one." Art spoke in a hushed tone causing goosebumps up your bare legs.

Taking in a shaky breath, you wanted to scream at yourself for unraveling like this.

He continues, "And I know you like me like that." His smile was a little sly because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

With ever fibre in your body, you finally break the hypnotizing eye contact. Playing it off as if you were rolling your eyes— but you both knew it was a cover. Your eyes desperately searched for something on your nightstand to catch your attention and slow down your hummingbird heart. Glass of water. Phone. Headphones. It was all a waste when Art whispered to you, breaking the silence in your bedroom.

"Y/N," he stretches your name. All breathy and seductive. He was a siren, and you were a sailor. "Please let me touch you, baby. I'm dying here."

"I- I'm still upset with you." Your words came out weak and strained. But how could they not when he was acting like this?

He nods, but didn't really care. He knew you were just trying to resist his charms, and obviously failing. Art leans down and plants soft kisses on your thighs. You gasp and try to spread them so his lips stop touching them, but it backfired because you basically served your pussy on a platter. The wet sticky arousal was still very much there. The bit that was gathered at your knee was being kissed by Art at this very moment.

"And you should be." Another kiss. "Slap me, scratch me, scream at me. Anything." Another fucking kiss. "But at least let me make it up to you." Both his hands hold yours. "Don't punish yourself too. You know you want me. Please, Y/N." To seal the deal he rises up and kisses up your neck.

Everything within you was begging for him and his touch. He was right. You hated that he was right. Sure, he was in the wrong tonight. But why should you withhold the sweet bliss of an orgasm (or two) from yourself.

"Okay. Fine." You had all of tomorrow to be passive aggressive to him. Right now all you wanted was feel yourself around him.

"Hands and knees. Now."

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Thank you for reading!

I also apologize for the inactivity. I got my wisdom teeth out and it hasn't been a pleasant recovery hehe!!