#Rafe Cameron x you

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe coming home to an unexpected visitor...

Y/n sat on the couch, her baby gently cradled in her arms as she swayed back and forth, humming softly to soothe her. It was the end of a long day, and despite the overwhelming joy of motherhood, she was hoping that Rafe would come back home soon so she could have five minutes of ‘mommy time’. He had to leave today, much to his complaints, to go and check up on the Cameron Development office. She had encouraged him, why wouldn’t she? She knew how hard he had worked to get where he is, but it felt weird being alone with their daughter, the absence of his everyday presence for the past month was going to take a while to adapt to. Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door- a loud, insistent knock that echoed through the house. The voice that followed was unmistakable,

“C’mon, country club I ain’t got all day.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile, recognising the familiar tone of Barry’s voice. She shifted the baby gently in her arms and rose to answer the door. When Y/n had first met Barry, she had been skeptical. After all, the guy was a drug dealer, and she knew well enough that people in that line of work weren’t exactly known for their warm personalities or moral compass. At first, she had kept her distance, unsure of how to navigate the relationship between Rafe's closest friend and herself. But over time, Y/n realised that Barry was a little different from what she had expected. He had never once treated her like an outsider, and while his exterior remained tough, he always showed her respect. Barry wasn’t as bad as people said. 

In fact, they actually got along quite well.

As she opened the door, Barry stood on the other side, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes immediately flicked to the baby in her arms, but his expression remained unreadable.

“Hey Barry,” Y/n greeted, her voice soft and calm, “Rafe’s not back yet.”

Barry blinked, clearly surprised for a moment, then let out a low laugh. “Shi, my bad, princess,” he said, adjusting the weight of the bag he had slung over his shoulder. 

“Wasn’t expectin' a welcome party.”

Y/n chuckled lightly and stepped aside to let him in. “You wanna come in? Rafe’ll be back in a bit- well I think...” Barry hesitated for a brief second, looking past her into the house before nodding. 

“Aight, why not.”

Barry’s heavy footsteps filtered through the halls of Tannyhill, as he plopped himself down onto the couch getting comfortable, bag once slung over his shoulder now shrugged to the floor. Y/n navigated over to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door, the cool air brushed past her face as her eyes scanned the shelves. She reached for a chilled pitcher of lemonade, balancing it with one hand while adjusting the baby’s position with the other. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she poured the liquid with practiced ease, the sound of it filling the quiet between Barry’s heavy sighs from the living room.

“Here” 

She said softly, making her way back to him. With the baby still cradled in her arm, she handed him the glass. Barry took it, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the lemonade. 

“No beer?” 

He teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly as she side eyed him, her head tilting just enough to give Barry a look that was equal parts warning and amusement. 

“Don��t push your luck” 

She murmured, her voice light but firm. Barry chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. 

“Aight, aight, my bad mama” 

He said, leaning back into the couch, the grin still plastered on his face. She rolled her eyes, but a small smile betrayed her as it tugged at her lips. Y/n eased herself onto the large couch, careful not to jostle the baby, who had begun to settle against her chest. Barry glanced over, taking a sip of the lemonade. 

“You make this?” he asked, she gave him a glance, as she nodded, “mhmm.”

“S’good,”

He admitted, leaning forward to set the empty glass on the coffee table. As he looked to her his gaze softened slightly, he glanced at the baby in her arms, though he quickly masked it with his usual neutral expression. 

“Man, Country Club got lucky with you," he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "ain’t no clue how he did that.”

Y/n chuckled softly, her hand gently patting the baby’s back as her little hand fisted her mother’s top. “He’s lucky, all right,” she agreed, looking down at her little girl, “but I think it’s the other way around most days.”

Barry raised an eyebrow at her, his expression changing a little as he took in the sight of her with the baby, a quiet respect in his eyes that he didn't often show. He cleared his throat, leaning back slightly in his seat as he tried to keep his usual tough-guy persona intact. His voice was quieter than usual, and Y/n caught the subtle shift, the care hidden beneath his typically gruff tone,

“How she doin'? Been a lotta noise in here tonight.” 

“She’s good. Just a little fussy,” Y/n replied, smiling softly at the baby, “She’s usually like this around bedtime, but I also think she just misses her daddy…”

Barry grunted, nodding as he looked down at the baby in her arms again, the similarity between the little girl and Rafe was uncanny. The baby had inherited Rafe's striking blue eyes and even her furrowed brow mirrored Rafe's intense expressions, a trait that often unsettled those around him. It was as if a smaller, innocent version of Rafe was cradled in Y/n's arms. Suddenly, a wave of urgency hit Y/n. She gnawed at her lip as she bounced the baby in her arms slightly before she sat up on the couch moving towards Barry, speaking out,

 “Hey, uh, do you mind holding her for a second? I really need to use the bathroom-”

Barry blinked, eyebrows furrowing in hesitation as she now stood in front of him, still gently rocking the baby in her arms.

“Listen, princess, I ain’t ever held no baby 'fore” 

He said, his voice slightly tight, clearly uncomfortable at the thought. Y/n laughed softly before shaking her head, “It’s just for a minute. I’ll be right back. Please?” She shifted the baby in her arms, her gaze imploring. After a beat, Barry sighed heavily, hand rubbing over his face, though there was no real anger in his tone. 

“Shi, alright, I’ll hold her.”

With some reluctance from him, Y/n carefully passed the baby to Barry, watching closely as he took her into his arms. He held her awkwardly at first, unsure of how to manage such a fragile little thing, but Y/n gave him a reassuring smile before quickly heading toward the bathroom.

As she disappeared into the other room, Barry shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more natural hold on the baby. His hands moved cautiously, but as he adjusted, the baby made a little noise- a content huff- and he relaxed a little. He glanced down at the little face staring up at him, and for a second, his usual bravado slipped. As he adjusted, the baby let out a soft coo and her tiny hand reached up, instinctively grasping one of his fingers.

Barry froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as the little hand curled around his finger. His face softened, a rare, almost tender expression crossing his features. He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring the baby was comfortable, and for a moment, he just stared at her with something close to awe in his gaze.

“Shi-,” he muttered under his breath. “You kinda cute, huh?”

Rafe walked into the living room, a bag of takeout in his hand, ready to settle in for a quiet evening. But as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

There, on the sofa, sat Barry- his usually hard-edged friend, the man who’d never been the type to do anything too tender or gentle. And yet, there he was, with Rafe’s baby girl cradled in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Barry was leaning back against the cushions, completely at ease now, the baby cooing softly in his hands. His gaze was softer than Rafe had ever seen, his usually sharp and intimidating presence replaced with a strange calmness as he looked down at the little girl. Rafe’s initial shock quickly faded into a mix of amusement and disbelief. He raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the room with a quiet chuckle. Just as he was about to say something, Y/n appeared at the doorway walking to Rafe, looking over at the scene with a smile that immediately softened her features.

“Aww, Rafe, look at that,” 

She said, her voice full of affection as she watched Barry with their baby. Rafe paused, his eyes flicking from his daughter to Barry, then back again. A grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arm around Y/n’s side. 

“I think we got ourselves a new babysitter,” he teased. Barry’s eyes narrowed, and with his usual bluntness, he shot back, 

“Shut yo bitch ass up”

“Hey! Watch your mouth in front of my daughter”

He said, his tone playful but with an edge of protection. Barry raised an eyebrow, but the tension broke when he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, yeah- we best friends now, ain't we cuz?”

He muttered, turning his attention to the baby cradled in his arms. The baby blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes, her tiny mouth opening in a silent "O" before a soft, contented coo bubbled out. Her little fists wiggled, and she kicked her legs faintly, her whole body giving that jerky, uncoordinated movement typical of a baby her age. Barry’s grin widened as he pointed to her. 

“See that?

Rafe shook his head, a faint laugh rising from his chest, “Man, she doesn’t even know who you are yet.”

“Nah, nah-” he replied confidently, leaning back on the couch. “She knows her uncle Barry, don't ya sweetheart.”

The baby let out another soft sound, something between a sigh and a happy gurgle, her tiny face scrunching in what could almost pass as a smile. Y/n laughed softly at the exchange, moving closer to the couch, with Rafe close behind her, his arms around her waist as they two looked down at their daughter. Y/n looked at Barry, her expression warm. 

“You’re good with her, Barry,” she said, a note of gratitude in her voice.

Barry gave a small shrug, his usual tough-guy persona slipping back into place, but there was a subtle softness in his eyes as he looked down at the baby. 

“She’s cool,” he said, his voice gruff but genuine, “ain’t as bad as people think.”

Rafe rested his head against Y/n’s as he watched his friend, amused. He teased, eyeing Barry with a grin. 

“Just don’t get too attached.”

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ heart-shaped cut-out

pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader synopsis: reader shows rafe her new lingerie warnings: smut, masturbation (f), sexting MDNI! wc: 700 a/n; i saw the new skims heart cut-out lingerie and it was so cute i had to write something about it!! anyway it’s another completely new fic, my neighbors are partying on a tuesday but this is for my nerd!rafe girls.

masterlist ♡ pervert!reader masterlist

you opened the package you'd ordered a week before, your eyes widening in glee when you got a peek of the baby pink fabric. you clapped your hands together, carefully lifting the bralette, admiring the little heart cut-out in the middle. when you'd seen it, you immediately knew you had to have it.

it took about five minutes until you were out of your clothes and changed into the adorable lingerie set, laying on your bed as you twirled your hair biting down on your lower lip as you sent a text to rafe.

YOU: i know we're supposed to meet up in a few minutes for tutoring, but i wanted to ask if you wanted to see some new clothes i got 🥰

you rubbed yourself through the pink fabric of your thong as you waited for him to reply, looking through pictures of rafe, the fabric forming a slight wet spot while your breathing got more erratic, especially when you landed on a picture you'd sneakily taken of his hand while he had been writing down notes. but when your phone finally pinged and the notification came up, you couldn't help the mischievous grin that took over your lips.

RAFE: Sure 😊

you opened the camera app on your phone, starting to record a video. you looked at the camera, biting down on your lip with a smile, before bringing it down to your chest, cupping and squeezing your breasts. your nipples were hard and pebbled through the fabric, and you let out a soft laugh.

you slowly panned it down to the thong you were wearing, showing off the damp patch on it, but now, instead of rubbing yourself through the fabric, you slipped your finger through the heart-shaped cut-out until it met your clit, causing you to let out a slight gasp. you circled and rubbed your clit, letting out small moans for the camera, your thoughts on rafe and the reaction the video would get from him.

after a few minutes had gone by, you dipped your fingers inside of you, gathering some of your arousal and taking your hand out of your thong, showing your fingers off to the camera.

"fuck, 'm so wet..." you moaned, before stopping the video. grinning, you pulled on a sweatshirt that was lounging next to your bed, taking a picture of yourself wearing it.

you went to your messages with rafe, proceeding to send the video you'd taken, keeping your eyes on the screen, waiting for the little 'read' receipt to appear, and it took a few minutes, but once the little grey text appeared, you sent the picture of you in the sweatshirt.

YOU: oops, i sent you the wrong thing, meant to show you the sweatshirt 😅 i'll be in the library soon!

you pulled on a pair of low-waisted jeans, making sure they showed off a sliver of the pink fabric, and even though it took you ten minutes to get to the library, rafe's face was still flushed, and there was still a bulge in his chinos.

"hope i didn't take too long." you said with a coy smile, pulling back the chair and sitting down next to him, more than pleased with his reaction.

"n-no... it's all good..." rafe mumbled, looking down at his textbook. you stretched your arms over your head, letting out a feigned yawn, rafe's eyes zeroing in on the small amount of skin peeking out under your sweatshirt, the boy letting out a breath before clearing his throat, and you immediately knew he'd seen the thong you were wearing, the soaked thong you’d rubbed yourself through.

"so." you turn to him with a bright, casual smile, biting down on your lower lip in the same way you had done in the video, acting like you weren't getting off on knowing how much he wanted you as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before bringing your hand down to rest on the table, touching his just a tiny bit, and even the minimal contact caused his eyes to widen.

"what are you gonna teach me today, rafey?

[totalswag]

I have a request... maybe reader is popular on tiktok and she does that thing on tiktok "raw next question" jokingly but he sees the video and responds

raw next question? ⎯ RAFE CAMERON

authors note can i just say thank you for sending in this request??

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary you jokingly leave a comment underneath rafe cameron's tiktok thinking nothing of it because of the trend going around. the following day he responds back with interest.

warning(s) little bit of cursing, mentions of drinking.

Several people have used the term "raw next question" on tiktok to describe their celebrity crushes, influencers, or people they find attractive in general. You even got them.

On an ordinary Friday, you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your for you page while the television played. You just came across Rafe Cameron's tiktok video where he posted slides of himself. 

Rafe Cameron is a popular guy on the app who every girl fantasizes about. He became popular after posting a tiktok of himself. A few months ago, he followed you on tiktok and instagram⎯you followed back on both.

You won't lie, he's an attractive guy⎯he knows he is. Neither of you have commented under each other's post before⎯you thought why not comment and see what happens.

"Should I do it?" You casually ask yourself as if you were in deep thought, "fuck it."

yourusername: raw next question?

⇾ fan2: umm ariana what are you doing here???

⇾ fan5: this is so unexpected but HELL YEAH

⇾ fan3: not her being BOLD 😭

After leaving your comment on Rafe's tiktok, you placed your phone down and resumed watching your movie. You felt your phone vibrate as supporters responded and making edits of Rafe and you. 

You honestly hoped on the trend but knew what would come from it after submitting the comment. Supporters know you will shoot your shot without thinking⎯you only live once.

The next day, you had two best friends over, Evelyn and Zoie. Three of you are having a girls' night that includes making dinner, drinking, playing games, baking, and watching movies. 

Evelny and you were gathering the ingredients for the cookies when Zoie let out a loud gasp while holding her phone, causing you two to look up, anxious. 

"What happened?" Evelyn and you speak in unison, setting everything down and walking over⎯looking over on both Zoie's shoulders.

"Rafe Cameron responded to your comment, Y/N," and all mouths dropped to the floor.

You freeze, your stomach doing a little somersault. “What?!”

You sigh and take Zoie's phone, saying, "Let me see."

There he is, sitting casually in a chair, the lighting soft and golden, his blonde hair slightly tousled. He’s rocking back and forth, staring off into the distance like he’s deep in thought. Then, slowly, he glances down at his phone.

The frown on his face shifts—subtly at first, then into a sly smirk. He leans forward, looking directly at the camera. “Uh-huh,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

"Y/N, you better say something because he's definitely interested," she replies. "I gotta agree with Zoie on this one," Evelyn adds, folding her arms and nodding to Zoie in agreement. 

"Let me check my phone first to see if he's messaged me," you say with a hint of eagerness and excitement, "plus I mainly commented to join the trend..." you trail off.

"Yeah sure" Zoie sarcastically remarks, leaning forward, shaking her head side to side.

instagram: rafecameron sent you a message

rafe cameron: hey! bold move, I think we should talk. 

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

@chenslucy @rosezza @mymultiveres @rafeyslamb @runningfrom2am @whorelaud @drewsephrry @drewizz @diqldrunks @starkeyvhs @percysley @francislovergirl @kiiyomei @sukuna-wafiu @skyslowalking @kneelarmhstrung @inthelibrarybtw @liliumz @lovingsturniolo @xoxosblogsblog @darkacademictrash @claudiamoscatoo @starkeysturniolo @ratgirlcunt @drewstxrky @eddxemxnson @raewontgoaway @definitelynotdomanique @isabellaxlilah @inlovewrafe @kravitzwhore @rafespreciosa @yanna2coolz @minyoon23 @stevesxwhore @bxmaaa @skywalker0809 @pwertiies @6r4cie @ifwfratboychris @sjmalfoy19 @dolletebun @drewrry @babypoguelife @fdl305 @outerbanksloverp4l @thesunflowersociety

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWELVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of severe anemia; pregnancy; abortion

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe rolled over, squinting against the sunlight breaking through the shitty broken blinds he'd meant to replace weeks ago. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and before his eyes were even fully open, he swiped it up.

"Yeah?" His voice was a low growl, all gravel, and irritation.

The voice on the other end was professional. "Mr. Cameron? We’re calling to follow up on your father’s properties. There are a few—"

Fuck off.

Rafe cut them off with a sharp exhale, rubbing his temples.

He didn’t let them finish. "Yeah, I know what you’re calling about. I’m not dealing with that right now, okay? Call someone else."

"Sir, you are listed as—"

"I said call someone else," He snapped, hanging up before they could launch into another scripted response. He tossed the phone onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling, breathing hard.

It had been months since Ward died, and somehow, his name was heavier now than it ever was when he was alive. Everyone wanted something—answers, signatures, money. All things Rafe didn’t have or didn’t care to deal with.

The phone buzzed again. He grabbed it, ready to tell whoever it was where to stick their questions, but it was just a reminder about his plans with Topper. For half a second, he considered texting back: Can’t make it. Something came up.

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he shoved himself upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and dropping his head into his hands.

The dream the call robbed him of was still vivid. For a moment, he forgot where he was—his room felt colder, and emptier, and the bed might as well have been a mile wide.

In the dream, you were eighteen again, and so was he. Back when things were simpler—or maybe just felt that way. Back before he’d ruined everything.

He could see it so clearly: the two of you sneaking out of some party you didn’t want to be at, your hand locked in his as you ducked through the dark streets. You’d been laughing, trying to shush him because he couldn’t stop cracking dumb jokes.

You ended up at the dock by your uncle’s boat. The stars were out, scattered across the sky like a million little promises. He remembered how you’d sat cross-legged on the wooden planks, your hair falling into your face as you smiled at him like he was the only person in the world.

The dock, your laugh, the stars—those were the good parts. But he remembers what you were going through back then, and it hit him all over again.

You’d just lost everything—your parents, your sister, gone in an instant. The private plane went down, and so did the life you’d always known. He remembers the way you’d talk about them—your family—late at night when it was just the two of you. Your voice would crack, and your eyes would shine with unshed tears, but you’d talk anyway. About your dad teaching you how to sail, your mom’s tenderness, the way your sister used to be your role model.

He hadn’t thought about those nights in years, but now they come rushing back, all tangled up with the dream. He still wasn’t strong enough for you back then. He let his own shit get in the way, let his insecurities and his anger twist everything good between you over the years. And when he walked away, he left you to deal with the wreckage of your life and his own cowardice.

He threw on a shirt, and some old shorts, didn’t even bother fixing his hair. No one was going to care—not like anyone was looking to him for anything these days anyway. He stomped down the stairs, rubbing at the back of his neck, pretending like he didn’t spend the night dreaming of your face. 

Wheezie was at the kitchen counter, cereal in front of her, scrolling her phone.

She didn’t glance up when she heard him, "You look like shit."

Aw, nothing like a teenager. 

"Good mornin’ to you too," Rafe grumbled, heading for the fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap like it had personally offended him, “You’re really settling in, huh?"

Wheezie snorted, not looking up from her phone. "Rose stuck me here with you. What else am I supposed to do? I’m just trying to survive." 

“It’s two days."

He hadn’t exactly planned on babysitting Wheezie while Rose was out of the country, he hadn’t planned on much lately

"Two days too many," she shot back, smirking. "You going somewhere?" 

Rafe slammed the fridge shut, twisting the cap off his water.

"Why are you stomping around like that?" 

"Not fuckin’ stomping," Rafe muttered, leaning against the counter.

"You are," she scowled, shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. "You sound like a baby elephant."

Rafe glared at her, but she just shrugged, unfazed. "You’re up early. What’s the occasion?"

"Just woke up, okay?" he snapped.

"Jeez, someone’s in a mood," Wheezie rolled her eyes. "What’s your deal?"

"No deal." He took a long sip of water, staring out the window.

"Can you drop me off later?" she changed the topic, her tone too casual to be innocent.

Rafe side-eyed her. "Drop you off where?"

"Poguelandia.”

His hand froze halfway to the trash can. "You’re kiddin’."

"Nope," Wheezie said, popping the “p.” She didn’t even look at him, scrolling on her phone like this was just a normal request.

"You know Sarah’s there, right?"

"Yeah, that’s kinda the point," Wheezie finally met his glare. "She texted me. Wants to hang out."

Rafe scoffed, tossing the empty water bottle into the trash. "Since when are you and Sarah talkin’?"

"Since forever," Wheezie pursed her lips, "Just because you two can’t stand each other doesn’t mean I can’t hang out with her. Also," She adds, "there’s a party happening later. Like, nothing crazy, but… y’know."

He hadn’t been around much for his little sister lately—shit, not for a long time, if he was honest with himself. After their dad died, he kind of just… checked out. Too much of his own crap to deal with. But Wheezie didn’t ask for any of that.

"Nothing crazy," Rafe repeated flatly, his arms crossed.

"Relaxxxx,” She shoved another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. "Just drop me off. I’ll figure out a ride back."

He rubbed a hand over his face, groaning. "Wheeze, do you even know what you’re walking into? Pogues don’t fuck with us."

"I wonder why….” She hummed, waving him off. “I’ll be fine, they don’t hate me."

"Yeah, well, they hate me."

"Good thing I’m not you.” Wheezie fired back, hopping off the stool.

Yeah, good thing.

"And it’s not just a party. I’m visiting Sarah, too."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Rafe rolled his eyes, "Here’s the deal: I’ll drop you off—"

She perked up, her face lighting with hope.

"—but on one condition," he cut in, smirking just enough to make her suspicious.

He hadn’t really spent time with her in ages—not since Ward died. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was just…easier not to. Easier to stay away, to let the silence pile up.

The real issue was that, for the longest time, he’s been gone for a reason. He didn’t want to be here. It was easier to be numb by being drunk or high. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his sister—it was just that it was too painful, and complicated.

Yesterday, his therapist had told him to invest time in his sisters. To be there for them, to reconnect, because they were his only real family left. Whezzie he could do, Sarah? 

Only time would tell. 

You have to show up for the people you love. Even if it scares you.

It scared the shit out of him, honestly.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You come with me and Topper on the boat first," he said, folding his arms tighter like he’s already won.

Wheezie groaned, slumping back in her chair. "Seriously? What part of not showing up on a yatch is this?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Why? So I can sit there and listen to you two talk about girls you’ll never get and beer brands you can’t pronounce?"

Rafe glared at her. "It’s not up for debate. You wanna go to fuckass poguelandia? You’re comin’ with us. End of story."

At least he was trying—trying to do something for her, to make up for the time he’d lost, the ways he’d been absent or worse. Even if he still sounded like an asshole most of the time.

"Fine. Whatever. I’ll go with you and Topper. But you owe me big time.”

The whole idea of being present was terrifying, it ruined him when he was a teenager, but he couldn’t keep hiding from it. There was nothing left to hide behind.

“I’ll buy that stupid cereal you like.”

"Lucky me."

"Alright, smartass," He grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee, trying to ignore her smug look. "What do you even eat besides cereal? You’re gonna starve or some shit.”

"I’ll survive. You, on the other hand…" she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his unkempt pantry. "You look like you could use a babysitter."

Rafe let the corners of his mouth twitch. "You’re an asshole, y'know that?"

“You’re my brother, what did you expect?”

It was just the two of them in his big, empty condo. He might not have been much of a role model—or even a decent older brother—but for the next two days, he could try.

“You’re the worst,” she grumbled, grabbing her phone off the counter.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Rafe said dismissively, turning toward the door. “Be ready in ten.”

Wheezie, rolling her eyes so hard he thought they might fall out of her head, stomped back upstairs, probably to change into something less “little sister on a boat” and more “teen rebel” or whatever the fuck kid’s liked these days. She could dress however she wanted as long as she didn’t make him regret dragging her into this.

Rafe leaned against the truck while he waited for his sister. His arms were crossed, his fingers drumming against his bicep in a nervous rhythm. It wasn’t about the boat—he didn’t even know why he’d suggested it. Maybe it was just an excuse to keep her close for a little longer before dropping her into pogue territory. He missed her.

An hour later, he was pulling the truck into the dock’s gravel lot, the tires crunching as he rolled to a stop. Topper was already there, lounging on the boat, a beer in one hand and sunglasses perched low on his nose.

Wheezie hopped out of the truck before Rafe even had a chance to cut the engine. “God, does he ever not look like a wannabe country club poster boy?”

Rafe smirked as he climbed out.

“Rafe! Wheezie!” Topper called out, spreading his arms wide like he was greeting royalty. “What’s up, losers?”

Wheezie snorted, marching toward the boat. “Nice shorts. Did Vineyard Vines have a clearance sale, or did you just raid your dad’s closet?”

“Stop being ruthless,” Topper glanced down at his pastel pink swim trunks, feigning offense. “These are a classic.”

“A classic embarrassment,” she fake gagged, stepping onto the boat.

Rafe followed her, shaking his head. “Play nice.”

“Fantastic,” Topper drawled, “There’s two of you today.”

“You make it too easy.” Whezzie dropped onto one of the cushioned seats and leaned back, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes. “What’s the plan, Captain Douchebag?”

Topper raised his beer in a mock toast. “The plan is sailing.”

“Wow. Revolutionary.”

Rafe chuckled, untying the boat and giving it a shove off the dock. “Just sit back and relax, Wheez. We’ll drop you off later.”

Topper’s head snaps up, “Drop her off where?”

"Where do you think?" Rafe leaned over to check the boat's engine. He didn't bother looking at Topper, already waiting for the inevitable reaction, “Sarah's.”

"Wait, wait, wait," Topper held up a hand like he was stopping traffic. "You're taking her to Poguelandia? Are you out of your mind?"

"It's not your problem," Rafe grumbled, starting the engine. The low hum drowned out part of Topper's rant, but not enough to miss the gist.

"Not my problem? Dude, the second you step foot over there, it's everyone's problem. She’s there too, y’know? Stopped by earlier to make peace…She changed her gate’s code. And the lock.”

The gate code. The lock.

He couldn’t get it out of his head.

For years, it had been the same—just like the keys he used to have to your place. Just days ago, the gate had swung open just like it always did, the same code he’d memorized like it was second nature.

You hadn’t changed the code, hadn’t swapped the locks. He’d half convinced himself it meant something, maybe you weren’t ready to fully let him go, either.

Rafe’s hands stilled on the throttle. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his jaw tightened all the same. Topper, of course, noticed immediately.

"See? This is what I’m talking about," Topper leaned back in his seat, spreading his arms like he was laying out some grand revelation. "Where do you think she’s staying at? It’s fuckin’ obvious. We show up, and it’s gonna stir shit up.”

It was almost like you’d left the door cracked open for him. Just enough to make him believe there was still a chance. Now he wasn’t so sure. Had his visit been the final straw? Had the sight of him standing on the other side of your door—looking desperate and pathetic—been the thing that made you decide to shut him out completely?

You didn’t let him in, but you’d opened up the door. After everything he’d put you through, it was your way of protecting yourself. Shutting the door so he couldn’t come crashing back in.

Topper’s voice snapped him back to reality, “You even listening to me, man?”

Rafe blinked, forcing himself to re-focus on the boat’s controls.

“Yeah. I heard you. ’m not staying. Just dropping her off."

“We’re dead meat.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Topper knew better than to keep talking, the conversation ended there.

For the next twenty minutes, the boat cruised over the water, Rafe kept on steering, letting Topper and Wheezie chatter away behind him. He wasn't really listening—hadn't been for most of the trip—but every now and then, Wheezie's laughter or Topper's exaggerated storytelling pulled him back just enough to remind him they were still there.

When they finally dropped anchor near the sandbar, Topper leaned back, cracking open another beer as he stretched out under the sun.

"Alrigh’, who wants to make a toast? First outing of the month, gotta celebrate properly!"

Rafe shook his head, pulling a bottle of water from the cooler instead. He twisted off the cap and took a long sip, ignoring the way Topper raised a brow at him.

"Wait a second," Topper said, sitting up slightly. "You're not drinking?"

The fact his best friend sounded surprised was reason enough to stay sober. He didn’t like being scrutinized.

"Nah," He waived off, leaning back against the seat and letting the sun warm his face.

He’d made the choice not to drink before they even left the dock, but it didn’t stop the instinct—the small urge to crack open a beer and let the eventual numbness take over like it usually did.

Topper looked between the beer in his hand and Rafe, "You serious? Could've told me, wouldn’t have brought all this shit."

“Yeah, sure you wouldn’t have.”

"Fair," Topper admitted, "Still, man. That's… good. Like, really good."

Wheezie, who had been scrolling on her phone, perked up at the exchange. "Yeah, Rafe. I think it's awesome."

Proud. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said that to him. Maybe you, but it had been a long time since anyone had looked at him and seen something worth being proud of.

He shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.”

But it kind of was. Because sitting there, sober and fully present for the first time in months, he realized it didn’t feel as bad as he thought it would. He’d been drinking non-stop—first to deal with his dad’s death, then to quiet the guilt, and then to forget you.

The therapist had called it “self-medicating.” Rafe had scoffed when she first said it, she didn’t know what she was talking about, but the longer the sessions went on, the harder it was to deny. Drinking had become a way to drown out the memories and feelings he didn’t know how to face. 

The therapist had suggested he take a break from drinking, just for a while. “You don’t have to stop forever,” she’d said. “Just give yourself a chance to feel what’s really going on.”

Yeah, because that sounded like fucking fun. Sitting with his feelings. 

But something about today felt different. He couldn’t explain it—maybe it was Wheezie’s not hating spending time with him after all the stunts he pulled, or the way Topper had thrown himself into planning this trip like he was trying to cheer him up—but for once, he didn’t feel like drowning himself in alcohol.

It wasn’t like drinking had helped anyway, if anything, it made it worse. The mornings after, when the hangover hit and he couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror, let alone call you to apologize for everything he’d done wrong. 

So, yeah. Maybe the therapist had a point. 

He glanced at the cooler full of beers and liquor that Topper had dragged aboard. “Don’t feel like it today.”

Topper was still eyeing him like he was an alien, while Wheezie had gone back to scrolling her phone, but every now and then, she'd glance up at him, like she was checking to see if he was still there—if he was still him.

"Alright, enough of the sentimental shit," Topper declared, "Let’s make this a proper day. Who’s up for some wakeboarding?"

Wheezie groaned, flopping back dramatically. "You two are so predictable. Wakeboarding, really? What’s next, golf? A steak dinner? Gonna break out the cigars and talk about how much you cripto?"

Rafe snorted, tossing a towel at her. "Wheez, you screamed your head off last time you tried it."

“Yeah, because I nearly died!" she threw the towel right back at him.

"You were fine.”

“You said I was fine while I was choking on lake water.”

Rafe smirked, standing up to adjust the rope for the wakeboard. “Builds character.”

“Builds trauma,” she retorted, kicking her flip-flops off and stretching her legs out over the seat. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when I’m suing your ass.”

“Good luck with that.”

She tilted her chin up with a satisfied grin, “I can now, thank you very much. I’m an adult.”

“You turned eighteen two weeks ago. Chill with the big-girl talk.”

Topper cracked up from the other side of the boat, pointing his beer at her like it was a microphone. “She’s got you there, big bro. Maybe let her drive the boat next.”

Wheezie perked up instantly. “Wait, can I?”

“No,” Rafe deadpanned.

“Why not?” she whined, her entire body deflating.

“Because last time you tried, you almost ran over a dock,” Rafe tugged the line to make sure it was secure.

“Okay, that was one time, and I was learning,” Wheezie argued. “You’ve done way dumber stuff.”

Topper leaned over, watching the exchange like it was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all week. “This is amazing. You guys should fight more often.”

“Shut up,” Rafe and Wheezie said in unison, which only made Topper laugh harder.

The afternoon passed quickly, filled with sun, water, and Wheezie’s relentless commentary. She refused to try wakeboarding again, opting instead to sunbathe and heckle them from the safety of the boat. Rafe couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh so much—or the last time he’d felt this calm.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the water in shades of gold, Rafe slowed the boat to a gentle drift. Wheezie was sprawled out with her headphones in, her phone propped up on her stomach. Topper had passed out in the corner, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. Rafe sat at the helm, one hand resting on the wheel, the other dangling over the side. The cool water lapped at his fingertips, calming him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

For once, he wasn’t thinking about the mistakes he’d made or the people he’d lost. He wasn’t drowning in guilt or regret. He was just… there, present. It didn’t feel as bad as he thought it would

Rafe cut the engine as the boat drifted closer to the dock. The sight of Sarah’s house on the Cut came into view. It wasn’t a kook mansion or some pristine estate—just a house that Sarah and her friends had claimed for herself.

The second the boat bumped against the dock, Wheezie sprang up, tugging her bag over her shoulder. Rafe was quick to follow, throwing the rope around a cleat to tie them off.

“You’re not getting off, are you?” Wheezie asked, looking over her shoulder with her brows furrowed.

Rafe stepped off the boat, sneakers hitting the creaky dock with a purpose. She rolled her eyes when she realized he wasn’t staying behind like she hoped.

“You don’t need to come,” she grumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I do,” Rafe said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not letting you walk in there alone.”

“She’s our sister, not some random stranger,” Wheezie stomped down the dock.

She might as well have been.

Rafe grabbed the bag she was struggling with and followed her toward the weathered building at the end of the pier. Sarah’s place wasn’t just a house; it was a business. A small café-slash-bait shop that catered to the locals. The painted sign hanging over the front door read Cut Cafe in faded lettering, with a little drawing of a fish under it. 

He hated it.

Not because it wasn’t nice, but because it wasn’t theirs. It was Sarah’s—a piece of her new life that had nothing to do with him or Wheezie or anything resembling their family. Another reminder of how far he hadn’t gone.

If he was being honest—something he rarely let himself do—he missed her. Not the Sarah she was now, but the sister she used to be, before the huge fights, before she looked at him like he was some kind of monster. Before Ward.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Ward had made sure Rafe would never get to have what Sarah did. She was the golden child, Dad’s favorite. And Rafe—he was just there, a constant disappointment.

It wasn’t that he hated her; it was that he hated what she represented.

Approval he’d never get, a life he wasn’t good enough for.

It was ironic, really. He used to resent Sarah for being Ward’s favorite.

Now he resented her for being yours.

Rafe scowled as the sound of the party reached his ears, even from the dock. Music thumped loud enough to vibrate the air, shouted conversations, and the occasional crash of something—probably a bottle—shattering.

Someone let out a loud whoop, followed by the unmistakable sound of people chanting for a keg stand. Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience thinning with every passing second. He wasn’t in the mood for this juvenile shit.

“You're way too comfortable here,” he scoffed under his breath as Wheezie marched ahead, her steps confident. It pissed him off more than it should have.

“Maybe because Sarah doesn’t treat me like I’m still twelve,” Wheezie shot back, smirking at him over her shoulder.

Rafe ignored the jab, his eyes scanning the small crowd outside.

A couple of Pogues lingered near the porch, laughing over beers and baskets of fries. Their relaxed, judgmental stares followed him like they could smell the kook entitlement on him from a mile away. He bristled, tightening his grip on Wheezie’s bag.

She bounded up the steps and pushed open the door, the bell above it jingling. He hesitated for half a second before following her inside, knowing he was going to regret ever stepping foot in this place.

The air smelled like beer, fried food, and sunscreen. Behind the counter, Sarah stood with her back to them, her hair tied up in a loose bun.

Wheezie cleared her throat loudly. “Hey, Sar!”

Sarah turned, her smile faltering the second she saw Rafe lurking behind Wheezie. Her expression hardened. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Rafe said dryly, crossing his arms.

“I told Wheezie to come by. Not you.” Sarah’s eyes flicked to Wheezie, softening just slightly. “You didn’t need to bring a bodyguard.”

“I wasn’t gonna let her wander around here by herself,” Rafe shot back, his voice low and defensive. He hated the way Sarah’s words hurt, hated that her disapproval still got under his skin after all this time.

Sarah rolled her eyes, wiping her hands on her apron as she stepped out from behind the counter. “Wander? She’s not a toddler. She knows how to get here. It’s safe.”

Wheezie stood between them, looking like she was torn between laughing and rolling her eyes so hard she might fall over. “Okay, can you two stop? It’s embarrassing.”

Sarah sighed, brushing past Rafe as if he wasn’t even there.

“Whatever. You can go now. Wheezie’s fine here.”

He stood awkwardly near the door, arms crossed, glaring at the locals who cast curious glances his way. It wasn’t worth staying.

Wheezie was safe.

Sarah would make sure of that, whether she hated him or not.

With a sigh, hr pushed open the door and stepped back out onto the porch, letting the door slam behind him. He took a deep breath of salty air, rubbing the back of his neck.

He’d barely made it to the dock when he spotted someone climbing off the boat—

“Dude,” Rafe’s brow furrowed as his friend stepped onto the creaking wood. “Thought you were scared shitless of this place.”

“I’m not scared,” Topper lied through his teeth.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, “Right.”

“We ran out of snacks on the boat, and I’m starving, figured I’d raid the stash at the party.”

“Snacks?”

“I’m starving!” Topper argued, throwing his hands up. “And unless you brought a secret bag of chips somewhere, this is my best shot!”

He sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do to change Topper's mind. “Hurry up.”

“Relax, I’ll be two minutes!"

He watched Topper jog away, sighing and leaning against one of the wooden posts. 

You were probably in there, somewhere. Laughing, maybe, or smiling that smile he used to wake up to, a smile that used to be for him.

Now, it was for everyone but him.

He tried not to think about you, but that was like telling the ocean not to rise and fall with the stupid tides. Therapy had taught him to sit with his feelings, to not let them rot into something worse, but he was just starting and you weren’t just the girl he loved.

You were the only person who had ever seen him for more than his name, his mistakes, or the wreckage Ward Cameron had left in his wake. You didn’t just tolerate him; you chose him, since day one.

He didn’t deserve you, not then, not even now. 

The sound of footsteps broke his focus.

“About time,” Rafe muttered, turning. But it wasn’t Topper.

Sofia stumbled into view, her dark hair wild and face flushed. Her hand gripped the railing for support as she swayed slightly.

He frowned, mildly concerned, “What the f—are you okay?”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and frantic. “Y-You need to go get Topper. Right n-now.”

His first thought was that she might’ve come here to throw some drunken, slurred insults his way.

The last time they'd spoken, things had ended...He didn’t even know how to classify that mess. But it didn't look like she was there to slam him with any guilt-trips or hurtful words.

She just looked scared.

“What?” His brows knit together as he stepped toward her, “What are you talking about? Are you drunk?”

Sofia waved him off, her breathing panicked. “The T-thorntons.”

That stopped him cold.

“What about them?”

She tried to grab his arm, her eyes wide, “They’re fighting. It’s bad.”

“Fighting?”

It couldn't be just some random fight; this had everything to do with the bullshit Topper had pulled.

Shit.

Rafe wasn’t even sure if he could fix it. Could he? You hated him too, and no matter how hard he tried, it seemed like you’d never forgive him for everything he’d fucked up. But Topper—Rafe didn’t even have to think twice.

He knew you, how you were when you’d had enough. You weren’t the type to lose your shit unless it was really bad.

He gritted his teeth, knowing full well that when you finally let it out, it was never just a “throw a drink and move on” kind of thing. Nah, when you lost it, it was like you’d been holding all this shit in for way too long and finally decided you weren’t gonna take it anymore.

He knew exactly what you were pissed about.

Topper. Of course. And him. Fuck.

He hated it.

The way your voice would rise when you finally let everything out.

You weren’t someone who yelled, but when you did? Jesus fucking Christ, it hit different. Rafe could never prepare himself fully for that kind of fury, especially when it was aimed at him. 

He hated seeing you like this, especially when he knew it was because of him. But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

Rafe’s thoughts were a mess as he followed Sofia, who was clearly way over tipsy, stumbling a little, but she was still trying to explain, voice slurring a bit from the alcohol.

“You gotta understand—she was helping me. I wasn’t feeling so great, right? M-my head was spinning, I don’t know… I just needed a little space. But then Topper walked in and he...S-she just lost it.”

He wasn’t even surprised when she mentioned that you’d been helping her out. Of course you would.

You always had that side to you. Even when you were pissed, even when you hated people, you couldn’t help but step in when someone was in need. You hated Sofia, and everyone knew it. You hated the fact that she’d come around right after he’d fucked everything up with you. You hated how fast she seemed to take your place, even though Rafe didn’t want to admit it to himself either.

Still, there you were, trying to make sure Sofia was okay, again. It made him feel like shit. Not just because you were still holding it together when he couldn’t, but because he knew the whole fucking reason you probably didn’t want anything to do with Sofia—because of how it’d felt when he’d jumped into something else so quickly, so recklessly, after breaking your heart.

The sound of raised voices reached him before he even saw you. He could hear the anger in your voice. There was no mistaking it: you were pissed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you this way, and it fucked with his gut. You didn’t lose control easily. You never let anyone see the mess, the shit you were going through.

Now you were ripping into Topper in a way that made his blood run cold. He rounded the corner and saw you, hands flailing, and he couldn’t help but wonder: When was the last time anyone stepped up for you? It certainly hadn’t been him. Not the way he should’ve.

And then, of course, there was Topper. He could see the look on his face—guilt, embarrassment. But it wasn’t going to be enough. You had to work through it yourself.

Your shoulders were tense, the way you stood, like you could snap anyone who walked through that door in half if they so much as blinked the wrong way, was all too familiar.

Your cousin was standing in front of you, trying to apologize like it was gonna fix anything, but you weren’t hearing it. No, you were done with that shit.

Topper wipped his hands down his ruined shirt, green smears of guacamole spreading across the fabric. “I fucked up.”

“No shit,” you hissed, “You don’t get to come back from this. You have no idea how fucking sick I am of you—” Hands shaking as you shoved him back, your words coming out in short bursts, "You're the fucking worst. How could you—"

You were about to throw something—probably another drink—when your eyes snapped over to Rafe.

For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw your breath hitch. You froze, eyes wide for a second, and then your expression soured.

Your lip quivered before you sucked in a breath and squared your shoulders.

"Not you too,” you sneered, throwing your hands in the air as the world had just dropped another pile of shit on your already full plate. “Oh my fucking god, seriously?"

Your face was flushed with anger, lips twisted in a snarl. You were so fucking beautiful, even when you were fuming. He could see the fire in your eyes, that same spark he’d fallen for all those years ago. You were just... you. And it was killing him.

He was so fucked. 

“All of you—” You spit out, “I should’ve known better. I did know better, but I was stupid. So fucking stupid.”

He couldn’t think straight when you looked at him like that, when you had that look in your eyes. Even in the middle of a fight, it was so goddamn hard to look away.

You weren’t just a memory to him anymore. You were right in front of him, and he couldn’t even breathe straight.

Rafe’s throat tightened, feeling something that wasn’t just anger or regret or confusion. He felt longing. He longed to hear your voice, all the time, longed for those mornings when you’d be pressed against him, all warm, the world outside his shitty room irrelevant.

He missed the simple stuff.

He missed your face, the way you’d look at him with that irritation and affection.

It hit him harder than anything had in months—how much time had passed since he last saw that pretty face smile at him like you used to. Since he last kissed your forehead while you fell asleep next to him, since you last fit so perfectly into his arms that he didn’t want to let go.

He didn’t even know how to start getting that back.

He left. Over and over again.

Rafe registered another drink splashing across Topper’s face a little too late, the sound of the liquid hitting his skin pulling him out of his trance. He blinked a few times, the moment dragging back to the mess in front of him.

You weren’t done, though, as if throwing the drink wasn’t enough, you whipped a bowl of guacamole from the table and hurled it at Topper’s face. It splattered across his shirt, leaving a sticky, green mess in its wake.

He didn’t even flinch, still apologizing, still taking it.

“Sis—”

“I don’t want some bullshit excuse! You were supposed to be my family. You were supposed to—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head because you couldn’t fathom finishing the thought.

And then—slap, slap, slap—you were hitting his arms, frustration flashing across your face as you let him have it. 

Your cousin stood there like a fucking idiot, wiping guac off his face, trying to stammer out some kind of half-assed apology. 

“You had no right,” you spat, voice breaking on the words. “None. You don’t just walk in here and act like everything’s fine after what you—” your words choked in your throat. You threw another plate, “You had no right!”

Rafe saw it all, saw the tears ready to spill as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. You weren’t crying yet, but he knew that was about to change. And when it did, it was going to hurt worse than the yelling, worse than the throwing.

Before you could even get another word out, Rafe was there, stepping in between you and Topper, his body tense, preparing himself for something, maybe a few slaps across the face, a drink if you felt generous. You didn’t have to say a word, he could sense it in the way your lips quivered, the way your shoulders shook.

“You need to calm down,” He told you tenderly, though it wasn’t a demand—it was more of a desperate plea.

You didn’t listen.

Instead, you shoved him out of the way, the tears starting to slip down your cheeks, but you didn’t even bother to wipe them away.

“Get out,” you snapped, "Move.”

Rafe didn’t budge, he was here for you, he never stopped fucking choosing you even when he had no right to. He remained still, staring down at you with those blue eyes that had always known you better than anyone.

“Fuck, not like this,” Rafe muttered under his breath, stepping forward once more, this time blocking your path before you could reach Topper again. His hands were gentle on your shoulders as he held you back, “Please, stop.”

You froze, eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe it—you hadn’t been expecting him to step in, hadn’t been expecting him of all people to be the one to try and talk you out of it. 

Rafe’s heart dropped when he saw the way your body was starting to shake. You were spiraling, he could see it coming—he'd been here before. The way your breath hitched, how your eyes turned glassy.

He still knew the signs all too well.

His hands shot out instinctively, grabbing your arms, trying to hold you still, "Hey, hey, calm down," he muttered, his voice soothing, "You're gonna make yourself worse if you don’t stop."

He could feel the rapid pulse under your skin, the way your body tensed like a coiled spring, and he didn’t give a fuck that you still hated him. 

"Look at me," he coaxed, "Please, just breathe with me. You know this ain't gonna help. You gotta breathe."

Rafe’s heart broke all over again as you crumbled in front of him, damn it, he should’ve been there. He should’ve been there when this all fell apart, when you needed someone to hold you together instead of pushing you away.

He hated seeing you like this.

"I’m right here," he said again, softer this time, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

Topper stood there, eyes wide, not sure what to do, his face pale as he watched you fall apart in front of Rafe.

Sofia, still drunk and disoriented, caught the look in his eyes and quietly grabbed his arm, “We need to go," she whispered, nudging him, "T-this isn’t helping her."

Topper’s eyes moved to you, and then to Rafe, you could see it in his expression—the guilt, the regret. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Rafe shot him a look, one that said everything—get out.

Your cousin, wiped his face before he took a few steps back. "I’m sorry," he muttered, eyes darting between you and Rafe.  "I’m so sorry.”

He turned away like a dog with his tail between his legs, Sofia following him without saying much, leaving you.

Rafe barely paid them any mind, his entire focus on you, his hands still holding yours, as he watched you try to calm your breathing.

He pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered again, "Not going anywhere. I’m here, swear to God, I’m here."

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him fully, not caring if he was blocking the view of anyone else, not caring if things were a fucking mess—he only cared about getting you back to yourself.

He could feel it in his chest, every shitty thing that had piled up, every moment no one had your back when you needed it most.

You didn’t pull away. Maybe it was the anger finally burning out or the exhaustion catching up to you, but for a moment, you let him hold you. Your chest heaved as you fought for control, but your weight sagged against his hands.

His hands loosened their grip, his thumb brushing against your arm without him even realizing it. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to risk letting go because God knew if he’d ever get this close to you again.

You’re safe. You’re okay. I’ve got you. 

He didn’t deserve it—not even a little, but he couldn’t let go, you needed someone, even if it wasn’t really him you wanted anymore. 

Rafe could sense the way your breathing came out as almost pants against his chest. Every little tremor sent a pang through his chest, like someone had grabbed his ribs and squeezed until it hurt to breathe.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he fought harder? 

Rafe rested his cheek against your hair, closing his eyes as he let himself feel it—the weight of you leaning on him. The smell of your perfume, faint but still the same as always. He felt like a fucking thief, stealing this moment from you when he had no right. You didn’t want this from him, didn’t need this from him.

He wished he could take it all back, erase every mistake, the fight, every stupid decision that had pushed you to this point. If he could trade places with you, take all the pain and carry it himself, he would. In a heartbeat. 

You took one shuddering breath, then another. It was enough for him to feel like maybe he’d done something right for once. Maybe he could—

“Get your hands off me.”

Rafe barely moved. His grip slackened, but he didn’t let go, didn’t step away like you wanted.

You pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I said get your fucking hands off me.”

“Not happenin’,” He swallowed hard, his pulse thrumming against his throat, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “You’re not okay.”

 “Go fuck yourself. You don’t get to decide that—”

Your voice cracked, and the sound of it nearly knocked the will to live from his body. He’d always known your tells, had always been able to read you better than you liked.

Rafe’s hands twitched, and then he moved them, moving like he was about to let you go—but then you did it.

You curled your arms around yourself, your fingers gripping the fabric of your dress, right over your stomach. Protective.

Fuck.

Could it be? It was an unconscious gesture, you probably didn’t realize you’d made, but to him, it might as well have been a fucking confession.

Rafe felt his body lock up, every muscle going rigid as the pieces fell into place. 

Fuck fuck fuck. Topper was right, wasn't he?

His throat went dry, he managed to croak out, “You’re—”

“No,” you snapped immediately, your fingers tightening on your dress, but you wouldn’t look at him.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t need you.”

He knew he was losing you.

Rafe exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

“Fuck you. You don’t get to— say shit like that. You don’t get to—” Your breathing hitched, and you bit down on the inside of your cheek.

“To what? To give a shit?”

He waited, watching, hoping, praying—please look at me, baby, please—but you didn’t move.

You scoffed, a bitter sound.

“You don’t care. You just don’t like the idea of—” Your breath caught, but you swallowed it down, pushing past the lump in your throat. “You don’t like the idea of me making a choice that doesn’t involve you.”

He hadn’t breathed properly since he saw your hands gripping your stomach, hiding yourself from him like you thought he was something to be afraid of. Like you thought he wouldn’t love you.

You thought he wouldn’t fucking stay.

“I love you.”

He barely recognized his own voice when he said it, but it was the only thing he could spill out. He swore to God he saw your left eye twitch at the confession, he knew what came next, but he’d never been good at shutting up when he should when it came to you.

“I do,” he insisted, “And I know I don’t—I don’t deserve to say that. I don’t deserve to expect anything from you.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “But I need you to know it.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I fucked up, I know. I fucked up so bad.”

You turned your head to the side, blinking up at the ceiling, refusing to spare him a glance. “I don’t want you to fix it.”

“I know,” he said immediately. “I know, but I can’t—I can’t just let you go through this alone.”

Your chest rose and fell too quickly, your breath uneven, but still—you stood your ground. “I don’t need you.”

“Please don’t say that,” he nearly dropped to his knees. “Please.”

You looked at him, since he’d realized what this meant, you lifted your head, met his gaze—really met it.

And shit—It nearly destroyed him, because he knew that look.

“Where the fuck were you, Rafe? Kissing her two months after we ended? Huh—” Your breath shuddered, and you shook your head, stepping back, “You didn’t even wait. You just—just moved the fuck on like I never even mattered—”

“It wasn’t like that—”

"Did you fuck her?" Your lips curled into a faux smile. "That’s what I thought."

"No,” He added quickly, shaking his head like the thought alone disgusted him, "No, I didn’t."

You chuckled disbelieving. "Don’t lie to me."

"I’m not," he said, stepping closer despite the way your body went rigid. "I didn’t touch her like that. I swear to God."

"But you wanted to, right?"

His head moved so fast it gave him whiplash, "No. The only person I’ve ever wanted is you.”

You scoffed, “That’s real sweet, real fucking poetic.”

“I let my own shit get in the way, and I hurt you. But I swear to God, I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“That supposed to make me feel better? You fucked off to play house with some other girl,” You swallowed hard, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why were you there with her? Why did you let me think—"

"Because I’m a fucking assshole," he admitted, "I was trying to forget you, okay? But I couldn’t. No matter what I did, it was always you."

“Fuck you.” You snickered. “Where were you when I finally got my internship? The one I worked for, the one I wanted so bad?” You shook your head, “You didn’t even text me. Not once.”

His throat was tight, his pulse hammering, because he had thought about it—so many times, so many nights staring at his phone, fingers hovering, but he hadn’t.

Rafe’s heart plummeted.

“I—”

“You what? You forgot?”

His nails bit into his palms, “I—”

“You don’t get to speak,” you seethed, you eyes burning through him. “You don’t get to fucking say you care when you weren’t there, when you didn’t even fucking check if I was okay.

"I'm sorry."

"Where the fuck were you,” you whispered, voice shaking with grief, “when I found out I was pregnant with your fucking kid?”

Rafe froze, his stomach jumped around, violently, his ears started ringing. His brain short-circuited, his lungs forgot how to take in air, his heart fucking stopped.

Pregnant.

Pregnant. With his—

“Oh, right.” Your laugh was venomous, “You showed up at my charity gala.” You licked your lips, shaking your head, “Defending her.”

He never felt so completely useless, completely fucking helpless while you stood in front of him, looking up at him like you hated him.

“I—” He started, but nothing came out. “You—”

There was nothing to fucking say, you were right, he had failed you.

You weren’t telling him this so he could weigh in or because you wanted him to be a part of it. You were telling him so he’d know, so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings, so he wouldn’t ever think, even for a second, that there was still a version of this where he got to be a part of it.

“How long?” The words were hoarse, hardly audible.

Your lips curled in disgust, arms crossing tight over your chest. “Like you fucking care.”

He did, he did care.

So fucking much that he thought he might fucking die under the weight of it. Except the realization hit him just as quickly—he didn’t get to stand here, wide-eyed and breathless and shocked like this wasn’t the natural conclusion to the shitshow of mistakes he’d made.

“Don’t fucking stand there and act like this is some big revelation. You didn’t spend the last months with your tongue down someone else’s throat while I was home—sick, alone—wondering how the fuck I was supposed to do this without you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, pressing your knuckles to your lips to stop them from shaking.

His gut twisted.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Jesus Christ, he’d been so fucking stupid.

“I don’t need you. I never did.”

It was a lie, maybe you even believed it.

But Rafe knew you, understood how hard it was for you to ask for help. Knew how much it had hurt to stand in front of him, admitting the truth. And Rafe—he needed to fix this. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.

“I should’ve been there.”

“Yeah? No shit.”

Rafe felt his ribs caving in. “I’m here now.”

“That’s not good enough.”

It was a death sentence, it was fair but fuck, he couldn’t accept it.

Rafe stepped closer.

You took a step back.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he swore, desperate. “I don’t care if you fucking hate me, don’t care if you never forgive me.” His throat worked around the lump in it. “I’m here.”

You were so fucking angry. So fucking hurt. He didn’t blame you for it. But if he didn’t try, if he didn’t fucking show you—prove to you that he was here now—then he’d never forgive himself.

“You think I’m gonna just forgive you for this?” you sneered, arms folded tightly over your chest. “Just because you’re here now, just because you say the words that mean nothing—that’s enough? After everything? After all of it?”

All he could do was look at you—look at the person he had ruined, the person he had loved, and still loved, more than anything. 

“I just—” He sucked in a breath, running a hand through his growing hair. “Tell me about the baby.”

Your expression faltered before you hardened again, lips pressing into a thin line.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Bullshit.” His voice broke. “Don’t do that—don’t shut me out. Is it... a boy? A girl?”

You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “Why does it matter?”

“Don’t—don’t keep me in the dark, please. You’ve felt them move?” 

You looked down at your feet. “No.” 

"Did you—uh—" He rubbed the back of his neck, nerves raw. "Do you have morning sickness? I read that happens early on, right?"

You blinked, "What?"

"Like... throwing up and all that? You okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned, but it only made your head spin.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Can we drop it?”

It’s then he remembers the beach cleanup, the memories of that afternoon colliding all at once—the way you’d collapsed into him, pale and unresponsive. The panic that gripped his chest as he carried you to the truck. The fight during the drive, when you told him to leave, your refusal to let him come inside.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“You were…” He pratically gasped, “You were pregnant. At the beach cleanup.”

You stiffened, already dreading where he was going with this.

“Don’t.”

His pulse raced, “That’s why you didn’t want me to come inside the hospital, wasn’t it?” His words spilled out, “You were scared they’d tell me. Holy shit.”

“Stop,” you snapped, but he couldn’t.

“You passed out because of—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. “Jesus Christ.”

“I said stop.”

He couldn’t unsee it now—couldn’t unfeel your dead weight on his arms. He’d been right there, clueless, driving you to the hospital while you were carrying his baby. And instead of being there for you, he’d made everything worse.

“I didn’t know,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “I swear I didn’t know.”

“Exactly.” Your voice was cold, “You didn’t know because you weren’t there.”

He was going to have to spend that entire fucking inheritance fortune on therapy

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

LINGER

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a sweet, introverted bartender and obx’s very own troubled golden boy share an unspoken connection—until jealousy, misunderstandings, and unspoken feelings finally push them to confront the truth.

based on this ask !! i hope you enjoy anon, and i hope it’s what you asked for :)

WARNINGS: brief angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, topper being annoying, jealous!rafe, jj being flirty with reader😝, “love” confessions, rafe not feeling good enough, mutual pining, but a cute fluffy end !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 3.8k (i got REALLY carried away !!)

THIRD PERSON +

The hum of conversation filled the bar on Figure 8, mingling with the low beats of a classic rock playlist. It was a quieter night than usual, with only a handful of regulars clustered at tables and the occasional newcomer drifting in. Y/N stood behind the bar, wiping down the polished surface even though it hardly needed cleaning. She wasn't one to sit idle, and, truth be told, she was grateful for something to do.

The nights when Rafe Cameron came in made it nearly impossible for her to relax.

He was seated at the far end of the bar now, nursing a drink he didn't seem all that interested in. His sharp jawline caught the low light, the curve of his lips tugged into what might have been a smirk—or perhaps he was just lost in thought. Either way, Y/N found it difficult not to glance at him every few minutes, only to whip her gaze away whenever his blue eyes threatened to meet hers.

She knew his routine well by now. Rafe always came in alone, usually later in the evening when the crowd had thinned out. He was polite—surprisingly so—but there was something about him that felt dangerous, like a storm rolling in just beyond the horizon. The other bartenders whispered about him when he wasn't around, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to the gossip. She only knew what she saw: a man who lingered a little too long, who seemed to light up when she stumbled through small talk, who always tipped well even though she was sure she got his drink orders wrong half the time.

Tonight, as she fiddled nervously with the sleeves of her long sleeve tee, she could feel his eyes on her. She braced herself, stealing one more calming breath before walking toward his side of the bar.

"Need a refill, Rafe?" she asked, her voice barely louder than the music.

Rafe looked up, his expression softening the moment he saw her. "Yeah," he said, pushing his glass forward. "Same thing as before, please."

Y/N nodded quickly and reached for the bottle of bourbon, her hands trembling slightly as she poured. She could feel his gaze burning into her, the weight of his attention making her heart pound in her chest.

"Long night?" he asked suddenly, his voice smooth but laced with something almost boyish.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, nearly sloshing the liquor over the rim of his glass. "Oh, uh, yeah. Sort of."

"You're always working so hard," he remarked, leaning forward just a fraction. "Not sure I've ever seen you take a break."

Her cheeks burned as she scrambled to wipe up a stray droplet of bourbon with the edge of her towel. "It's not so bad," she said quickly. "I don't mind staying busy."

"You're good at it," he said, and there was an odd sincerity in his voice that made her stomach twist. "The bartending, I mean. You've got this... thing. Like, you make people feel comfortable."

Y/N froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. Compliments weren't something she received often, and especially not from someone like Rafe Cameron. She fumbled with the garnish tray, pulling out a cherry and dropping it into his glass with shaking fingers.

"Thanks," she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He smiled then—a real, crooked smile that softened the edges of his typically hard demeanor. "I mean it," he said, taking the drink from her. His fingers brushed hers, just barely, but the contact sent a shiver down her spine. "You're easy to talk to, even when you're... y'know, kind of shy."

She blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh or apologise. Instead, she ducked her head, the warm feeling in her cheeks creeping up to her ears. "I, uh... I'm not great at talking. Sorry."

"Don't be," he said, his voice low and warm. "It's cute."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, she was sure she'd imagined the way he looked at her—like she was something worth noticing. But before she could respond, the sound of someone calling her name from the other end of the bar jolted her back to reality. She muttered a quick excuse and darted away, her heart racing as she busied herself with another customer.

Rafe watched her go, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He hated how his chest tightened whenever she was near, how he felt like a nervous wreck every time she so much as glanced in his direction. She was sweet, kind-hearted, and far too good for someone like him.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself from lingering.

An hour later, the bar had grown busier, and Y/N found herself working harder to avoid Rafe's gaze. She didn't notice the arrival of Topper Thornton until his voice boomed across the room, drawing Rafe's attention.

Rafe liked watching her. She was different from anyone else he knew—a little clumsy, a little shy, but always kind. Too kind, he thought, for someone like him. She didn't belong to the same cutthroat world of backstabbing and manipulation that he did. She was sunshine, soft and untouchable, and every time he caught himself staring too long, he felt like a thief.

He didn't deserve her.

"Yo, Rafe!" Topper's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and grating. Rafe turned to see his best friend approaching with a blonde girl in tow. She was pretty in a polished, effortless way—designer dress, manicured nails, a confident smile that screamed old money.

"This is Whitney," Topper announced, nudging Rafe's shoulder. "Told her you've been a free agent too long."

Rafe forced a tight smile, shaking Whitney's hand. She was pretty, sure. She had that typical Kook look, all high cheekbones and cold elegance. But she didn't spark anything in him. Not like Y/N did.

"Hi," Whitney said, her voice lilting with practiced charm.

"Hey," Rafe replied, stealing a glance back at the bar.

Y/N had seen it all—the introduction, the way Whitney tilted her head flirtatiously, the way Topper patted Rafe on the back like he'd just scored a win. Her heart sank, and she turned her attention to cleaning the counter with exaggerated focus, hoping to block out the scene playing out before her.

It was stupid to feel this way. She and Rafe weren't anything, not really. He was just a customer, and she was the awkward bartender who could barely string a sentence together around him. But seeing him with someone else, someone who seemed to fit so effortlessly into his world, made her chest tighten painfully.

When Rafe returned to the bar for another drink, Y/N kept her head down. Her usual nervous warmth was replaced by a cold efficiency as she mixed his order.

"Here," she said curtly, sliding the glass across the counter without looking up.

Rafe frowned. "You okay?"

"Fine."

He hesitated, searching her face for something—anything—that would explain the sudden change in her demeanor. But she didn't give him the chance to linger this time, quickly turning away to serve another customer.

Rafe's stomach twisted. She was shutting him out, and he didn't know why. Was it Whitney? Did she think he liked her? He didn't, not in the way he liked Y/N. But how could he explain that without sounding like an idiot? What was he even thinking? They weren't even together.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of frustration and longing. Whitney clung to Rafe's arm, laughing at his half-hearted jokes and batting her lashes at him, but he barely noticed. His focus was on Y/N—on the way she avoided his gaze, the stiffness in her shoulders, the forced politeness in her voice whenever he ordered another drink.

She hated him now. He was sure of it.

"Rafe, are you even listening?" Whitney's voice snapped him back to reality.

"Yeah," he lied, forcing a tight smile.

But he wasn't. His mind was with Y/N, replaying every moment of the night, searching for the moment he'd ruined everything.

—

The crisp night air nipped at Y/N's skin as she stepped out of the bar, her breath curling in wispy clouds before vanishing into the dark. The quiet of the island after hours was always a comfort, the distant crash of waves on the shore a reminder of home. But tonight, no amount of serene surroundings could quiet the ache twisting in her chest.

She tightened her coat around her as she walked to her car, her mind replaying the evening in an endless loop. It wasn't the first time she'd seen Rafe Cameron in the bar. She'd grown used to his presence, even come to anticipate it with a nervous sort of excitement. But tonight was different. Tonight, he hadn't been alone.

Y/N hated the way her stomach had dropped at the sight of the blonde girl—Whitney, as she'd overheard Topper call her—clinging to Rafe's arm, her perfectly manicured nails resting on his bicep like she had every right to be there. The girl was beautiful, confident, and poised in a way Y/N knew she could never be. She was everything a Kook girl was supposed to be, and everything Y/N wasn't.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she drove home, the rhythmic hum of the tires on the pavement doing little to soothe her. She felt ridiculous, stupid even, for letting herself feel this way. Rafe wasn't hers, and he never would be. He was just a guy who came into the bar, a customer she barely knew beyond the surface. But that wasn't entirely true, was it?

The way he lingered at the bar, the way he seemed to soften when he talked to her, the way he looked at her like she was someone worth noticing—it had all felt so real. She couldn't help but replay every stolen glance, every hesitant smile, every compliment he'd offered in his quiet, almost bashful way.

But now, all of that felt like a cruel joke. Maybe she'd imagined it, read too much into his kindness because she wanted to believe it was something more. Maybe he'd been looking at her out of boredom, not interest. Maybe he had never thought about her at all.

Her throat tightened, and she blinked hard against the sting of tears. She hated how vulnerable she felt, how easily her emotions betrayed her. She had always prided herself on being independent, on not needing anyone's validation. But Rafe Cameron had slipped past her defenses, and now she was paying the price for letting him linger in her thoughts and feelings.

By the time she reached her small, cozy house, the weight in her chest had settled into a dull ache. She dropped her keys on the counter and sank onto the couch, her thoughts still swirling like a storm. Her parents had always supported her decision to work, even though she could have easily coasted on their wealth like so many other Kooks. She liked earning her own way, proving to herself and the world that she was more than just another privileged kid on Figure 8.

But tonight, she felt small and insignificant, like the world was reminding her that she didn't belong in Rafe Cameron's orbit. He was a hurricane, magnetic and destructive, and she was just a quiet breeze, unnoticed and easily forgotten.

And yet, she couldn't stop thinking about him.

—

The door to Rafe's house closed with a heavy thud, and he let out a long, exhausted sigh as he leaned against it. The evening had been a disaster, but it wasn't because of Whitney. In fact, he could hardly remember a single thing she'd said. His mind had been elsewhere all night, fixated on the one thing he couldn't stop thinking about: Y/N.

He pushed off the door and made his way to the kitchen, the silence of the house pressing in around him. His family was used to him coming and going at odd hours, and tonight he was grateful for the solitude. Pouring himself a glass of water, he leaned against the counter, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

Y/N had been different tonight, and it had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. She'd barely looked at him, her usual shy, awkward charm replaced by a cold formality that felt like a punch to the gut. He replayed the moment over and over, searching for the exact second he must have done something to upset her.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realised it wasn't just her behavior that had unsettled him—it was how much it had affected him.

He liked her. He really, truly liked her. It was a quiet, consuming sort of affection that had taken him by surprise. At first, it had been easy to dismiss—the way his chest tightened when she smiled, the way his heart raced whenever their fingers brushed. But now, after months of stolen moments and lingering glances, he couldn't deny it anymore.

He thought about the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way her cheeks flushed whenever he managed to fluster her. She was kind in a way that felt rare, genuine in a way that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't beyond redemption.

But tonight, all of that had felt out of reach.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Whitney had been a mistake—a distraction Topper had pushed on him that he never should have agreed to. She'd been all wrong from the start, her shallow questions and empty compliments grating on his nerves. She didn't care about him; she cared about the idea of him, the money and status he represented.

But Y/N... Y/N had never treated him like that. She didn't care about his family name or his bank account. She didn't try to impress him or play games. She was just herself, awkward and sweet and so genuine it made his chest ache.

And now, he might have ruined everything.

The thought made his stomach churn. He didn't know how to fix it, didn't even know where to start. All he knew was that he couldn't bear the thought of her looking at him the way she had tonight—like he was a stranger, someone unworthy of her time.

Rafe set the empty glass down on the counter and scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn't used to feeling this way, vulnerable and uncertain. But Y/N had a way of unraveling him, of making him question everything he thought he knew about himself.

He didn't deserve her, not really. But he couldn't stop himself from wanting her anyway.

As he climbed the stairs to his room, his thoughts were filled with her—her shy smiles, her quiet laughter, the way she made him feel like maybe he could be something more than the mess he'd become. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew one thing for sure: Y/N had changed him, and there was no going back.

—

Four days. Four endless, suffocating days.

Rafe Cameron had returned to the bar every single night since that dreadful evening, but each time, there was no sign of Y/N. It didn't sit right with him. The place didn't feel the same without her. She wasn't just another bartender—she was the lifeblood of the space, her sweet, slightly awkward energy drawing customers like moths to a flame.

But now, the warmth was gone. Without her behind the counter, it was just another dimly lit establishment, all noise and no soul.

By the fourth night, his restlessness was unbearable. He stepped into the bar, his sharp eyes immediately scanning the room. This time, she was there. Relief flooded him so quickly it was almost dizzying.

And then he saw who she was talking to.

Y/N was behind the bar, giggling softly as she leaned in closer to none other than JJ Maybank. Her hair slipped forward as she laughed, and she quickly brushed it out of her face, a move Rafe had seen her do countless times. It always left him breathless.

But this time, the sight filled him with a searing, unfamiliar rage.

What the hell was Maybank doing here? This was Kook territory, not The Cut. And worse, what was he doing talking to Y/N like that? The way JJ was leaning against the bar, all easy charm and flirtation, made Rafe's blood boil. He clenched his jaw so hard it ached as he watched JJ flash her one of his trademark smirks.

Rafe's fists tightened at his sides as he stalked over.

The second Y/N noticed him, her expression changed. The soft laughter disappeared, replaced by something guarded and uncertain. The shift stung more than he wanted to admit, but he wasn't here to dwell on it. His eyes flicked to JJ, narrowing with disdain.

"Well, if it isn't JJ Maybank," Rafe drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Didn't think you'd ever cross the bridge willingly."

JJ turned, unfazed, and smirked. "What can I say? The service here's worth it." He shot Y/N a wink, which only made Rafe's temper flare.

"Sure it is," Rafe muttered darkly, his gaze never leaving JJ. The air between them crackled with tension, but eventually, JJ shrugged and pushed off the bar.

"I'll catch you later, Y/N," JJ said casually before heading toward the group of Pogues gathered in the corner.

Rafe watched him go, his shoulders rigid with suppressed anger. When he finally turned back to Y/N, her expression was unreadable.

"Something I can get you, Cameron?" she asked coolly, her usual warmth noticeably absent.

Rafe hesitated for a moment before leaning on the bar. "Whiskey, neat—Please."

As she poured his drink, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "What was he even doing here?"

Y/N glanced up briefly, her expression neutral. "JJ's been here before. He's not exactly banned from Kookland, you know."

Rafe scoffed but didn't press the matter further. The silence between them was suffocating, and it took everything in him to break it.

"How's it been?" he asked, his voice softer now. "I uh, haven't seen ya' around."

She gave him a quick, noncommittal shrug. "Been busy."

The coldness in her tone stung, but Rafe couldn't let it go. He needed to understand what had changed.

"Look," he began, his voice low, "I feel like maybe I upset you the other night. Was it... Was it the girl?"

Y/N froze for a split second before resuming her task, but Rafe didn't miss the way her jaw tightened.

"How was your date, by the way?" she asked, her tone deceptively light.

"It wasn't a date," Rafe said quickly, his words tumbling over each other.

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head as she turned to face him. "Rafe, come on. It very clearly was. She was practically glued to your side."

"It wasn't," he insisted, his voice firm. "Topper set it up. I didn't even want to go, and I haven't spoken to her since." He hesitated, his blue eyes meeting hers. "She's not really my type."

Something in his tone gave Y/N pause, but she was too hurt to let it show. "Right," she said flatly.

Before she could say more, Rafe's next question caught her off guard. "Are you seeing JJ?"

Her brows furrowed as she stared at him. "What?"

"Are you seeing him?" he repeated, his voice tense.

"No," she said slowly, setting her hands on the counter. "But he did ask me on a date."

The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, and before he could think better of it, he blurted out, "Don't go."

Y/N's eyes widened, and she crossed her arms. "Why not?"

Rafe faltered, the confidence he'd managed to muster evaporating under her sharp gaze. He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.

"Exactly," she said bitterly, turning away to busy herself with a drink. "That's what I thought."

"Wait," Rafe said suddenly, his voice rough with desperation. "It's not— I..." He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the bar. "I like you, okay?"

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and raw.

Y/N froze, her heart hammering in her chest. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Rafe looked down, unable to meet her gaze. "I've been nervous to tell you because... because you're too good for me. You're sweet and kind, and I'm—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I'm not. I've got a lot of darkness, Y/N. I don't want to drag you into it or hurt you."

His voice cracked slightly, and he finally looked up, his blue eyes filled with vulnerability. "I don't want to break you."

For a moment, Y/N didn't say anything, the weight of his confession sinking in. Then, slowly, she stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "You're not going to break me, Rafe."

His brows furrowed as he searched her face for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was quiet resolve.

"I can see the heart in you," she continued, her gaze steady. "You're different when you're around me, and I know it's real. You don't have to be scared of that."

Rafe's shoulders sagged slightly, relief washing over him like a wave.

"And for the record," she added with a small smile, "I'm not interested in JJ. He's been trying to win me over for a while now, but... it was never going to happen."

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his lips twitching into a faint smile. "Good," he muttered, his voice low.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her confidence returning. "Do you have something to ask me, Rafe Cameron?" she teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Rafe blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before shaking his head with a quiet laugh. He met her gaze, his expression softening. "Will you go out with me?"

Y/N's smile widened as she nodded. "Yeah. I will."

The tension between them melted away, replaced by a quiet understanding that felt both new and inevitable. For the first time in days, Rafe felt like he could breathe again, and Y/N couldn't stop the warmth blooming in her chest.

As the bar buzzed around them, they stood in their own little world, the first fragile threads of something real beginning to weave between them.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope you enjoyed this anon !! i had sm fun writing this and thought it was a super sweet plot/concept so thank you for trusting me with it <3

still working my way through requests whilst also working on my little drew starkey mini series (sports car) so please be patient w me my loves :) but also still request any ideas you have ofc !!

[inspiredangel]

‎ FORCED FACEMASKS

summary: rafe makes fun of you for looking silly wearing your face mask, so you force him to put one on as well. based off this tiktok trend

you were doing your daily night routine, but this time, you decided it would be fun to put on a face mask.

the packaging said it would help with your pores, so why not?

as you put the green face mask across your face, rafe walked in. as soon as his gaze settled on you he let out a loud chuckle. your eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused as to why he was laughing

his finger reaches over and pokes your face "what the hell is this babe?" he giggled "you look like a little green monster." he teased, giving your cheek another poke.

you swatted his hand away, and scoffed "It´s good for my skin." you shrugged. his smile didn´t fade and only grew with your irritated comment. you took a closer look at his face and noticed how huge his pores were.

"looks like you could use some," you said as you brought the brush with the green mask closer to his face. he took a step back and chuckled, "no way I'm putting that shit on my face."

you shot him a look and tilted your head "C´monn, it´s good for your skin." you stood up, took his hand, and pushed him to sit down on the chair "babe, no way." he protested again, trying to stand up, but you pushed him back down on the chair "babe, yes way." you mocked.

the brush touched his face, and he frowned immediately; the gooey mask felt strange, and he didn't like it at all.

he groaned "can´t believe you're doing this." he mumbled, clearly not happy. but you on the other hand were thrilled, it would help clear his pores and make his skin look amazing.

you smiled and said, "all done," as you finished applying the mask on him. he stood up from the chair and looked in the mirror, poking his cheek with a scowl on his face.

he went over to your bed and sat on the edge, pouting as he picked up your stuffed animal and held it close to his chest.

he watched you sit back down in the chair and continue applying the mask to your face. "s´ bullshit." he muttered under his breath, as he held tightly onto the stuffed animal.

@marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @slut4chris888 @waitforyrlove @sturnioloangell @slctsblogana @anyaa2s @emely9274 @shadowthesim @frankoceanfanpage @mrsarnold @freshloveee @t0riiiis @jetaimevous @sturn777 @sturniologirlzz @venusbabysblog @ch6rm @sturniolossss @mattsbrowser @sturnlsstuff @chrissweetheart @lizzyzzn @sophand4n4

[rafesangelita]

♡ babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader go to her first prenatal appointment

warnings: super sweet fluff, pregnancy, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, reader is emotional (she can’t help it, okay?!!), crying, reassurance, comfort, some brief medical terminology

a/n: creating an official au introduction for this little universe of mine <3 just a reminder that pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this pairing unless stated otherwise in the author’s note!

wc: 1.9k

“ray, i can’t hold it!” you shrieked, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks, “you’re going to make me pee, i’m not kidding!” rafe was currently tickling your sides, your once hysterical laughter soon turning into breathless pants as he continued ignoring your pleas for him to stop. “aw, come on..” it wasn’t until the smile dropped from your face that he took the hint and got off of you, quickly helping you up to your feet so you could run to the bathroom.

you found yourself doing that a lot more now, your ability to ‘hold it in’ was long gone by this point. that, along with crying over the smallest things like rafe rubbing your tummy despite you not really showing yet, his attentiveness and care never failing to make you sob in his arms. thankfully, your morning sickness wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. now that you were approximately eight weeks, sailing was becoming more smooth, both you and rafe finally catching a small break from the wrath of your raging hormones.

you never got angry in the first few weeks, but annoyed and irritated? definitely. a few times you had to flash rafe a warning smile before he could take the hint that you didn’t want any of the food he was trying to feed you— the smell of certain meats making you feel queasy. “do you want me to projectile vomit into your lap?” you’d ask sweetly, your eyes slightly wide as rafe frantically shook his head before taking the forkful of steak away from your lips.

he’d been a good sport about absolutely everything. even now as he helped you out of his truck, rafe was quick to sling your purse over his shoulder, his hands staying glued to your hips until your pretty pedicured feet softly landed on the ground. you wasted no time in scheduling your doctor’s appointment the same fated day you and rafe looked down at that positive pregnancy test. you couldn’t believe a whole month had already flown by that quick.

“i’m a little nervous..” your whispered, taking rafe’s arm with your own, the height difference easily making you feel comforted as he held your hand. “ah, don’t be, i read that they’re just gonna run a few tests and ask you some questions, that’s all, sweetheart.” oh, you could cry right now. scratch that, you were crying right now. “you looked up how my first appointment would go?” rafe’s head shot down as soon as he heard your crying voice, both of you stopping just right outside of the doctor’s office.

“hey..” he turned, cupping your cheeks, “baby, i didn’t mean to make you sad.” he stroked the side of your face, thumbing away any stray tears that managed to roll down your cheeks. “no, you didn’t make me sad, it’s just— you’ve been so good to me, even before all of this, i just feel so lucky to have you. you’re so sweet, and you’re so helpful, and you even put up with me when i have an attitude sometimes, and—” rafe stopped your rambling when another couple came walking up to the entrance.

flashing awkward smiles at each other, rafe scooted you over before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “what did i tell you when you were panicking, flipping through that calendar book of yours?” you laughed at the memory. you were so scared that day. “you said you were going to take care of us.. of me.” rafe nodded, lifting your chin so you could look up at him. “i meant that, y/n. there’s nothing to be scared of, alright? everything that i’m doing for you isn’t even the tip of the iceberg for what you deserve, you understand that?” you blinked, wrapping your arms around his waist as you two stood there in silence for a few moments.

rafe held you until you were ready to go inside, your boyfriend holding the door open for you as you were hit with chilly air and the smell of antiseptic. “i’ll get the sign-in sheet, just go ahead and sit down, baby.” you listened, clasping your hands together in your lap as you took a look around the other women in the waiting room. everyone seemed so calm, like there really wasn’t anything to worry about. you figured you’d just been overthinking on your way over here, worrying yourself to death for no reason.

rafe came back with a clipboard, quickly filling out your information and handing it over to you when there was a section he didn’t know the information to. “hey, how about we get something to eat after this? we could get those subs you like down at the sandwich shop.” it was as if rafe read your mind, a small smile forming on your lips before you pecked his cheek. “with those spicy kettle cooked chips?” rafe hummed, taking the clipboard back from your hands. “yeah, whatever you want.”

you two waited for your name to be called out for no longer than fifteen minutes, your heart dropping to your stomach once a woman in pink scrubs smiled at you brightly. rafe could tell by the slight shake of your hands that you were back at square one. “look, everything is alright, let’s go check on this little one, yeah?” you swallowed nervously, allowing rafe to guide you inside the double doors, his large palm resting in the small of your back as you two followed the nurse to your room. the walls were painted with all kinds of animals, the woman who was going to do your ultrasound welcoming both of you in.

“hello! how are we feeling today?” she helped you up on top of the chair. “i’m on edge a little bit..” you told her truthfully, your eyes finding the probe for your ultrasound. “aw, that’s completely normal, i promise you you’re in great hands. is this dad?” she glanced over at rafe, the poor man turning red at the name. "yes, that's me.. dad.." the nurse laughed, grabbing a hospital gown from one of the cabinets. "still really new, huh? is this your first?" both you and rafe nodded. "oh, how exciting!" she squealed.

"are you aware of what we're going to do for this first visit?" rafe grabbed the chair from the corner of the room, moving it up to where he could sit next to you. "not really." you shook your head, letting rafe's hand envelope your own. "so even though the pregnancy tests you've taken are positive, we're still going to draw blood and run a few tests just to be sure," she started, "i'm going to be asking you a few medical history questions, checking your vitals to make sure everything with you is okay, and we should also be finding out your due date today!"

you took everything in, your tummy fluttering in excitement at the prospect of getting to find out when you were having your baby. "does that sound okay?" she began typing something on her computer as you hummed. "alrighty, first and foremost; when was the date of your last missed menstrual cycle?" you wracked your brain for an answer, trying your best to remember what your calendar book said. "uhm.. i don't know the exact day but i wanna say it's been five weeks since i found out i was pregnant, and before that i was late three weeks." she typed quickly as you spoke.

the questions continued as she took your vitals, along with recording your height and weight. “are you taking any prenatal vitamins?” you were about to say yes before rafe blurted out. “she’s taking the best ones on the market.” he smiled, both you and the nurse laughing as he took the bottle out of your purse. “yeah, those work wonders,” she agreed, “remember a healthy diet is also key to keep both you and the baby healthy. plenty of water, too.” rafe made a mental note to start bringing your stanley everywhere.

the nurse took your blood, instructing you to change into the hospital gown before she left with the viles to take them for testing. “i think she’s gonna put that thing inside of me.” you pointed at the probe on the side of the ultrasound machine, a shiver running down your spine as you sat back down on the chair. rafe couldn’t help but snap some pictures of you, his smile reaching ear to ear as you posed for him. “i hope she doesn’t take long, i’m hungry.” you pouted. just then, the nurse came back in with a some papers in her arms.

“so just as we expected already, your bloodwork came back positive, and everything else looks really good. all we have to do now is your pelvic exam and your ultrasound to get that due date!” you settled into your chair, stirring uncomfortably as she placed your feet onto the stirrups. rafe was watching everything intently, making sure you weren’t in pain or anything as she began your exam. thankfully, she was making small talk with both you and rafe, asking you two questions as well as giving you advice since you were first time parents.

“y’all are going to be just perfect, i promise you that. loving parents create happy households, and by the looks of you two, your home will be overflowing with happiness and love.” she smiled, finishing up your appointment with a satisfied hum. “everything looks good! although your blood pressure is a little bit up, that comes from the nerves you felt earlier, so we definitely want to be more careful with that, but everything else, baby included, looks healthy.” you sighed in relief, your shoulders relaxing as rafe nodded in understanding.

“when will we be able to actually see an ultrasound?” you asked, kind of sad that you didn’t get to see the little bean today. the nurse took her gloves off before checking something off on her clipboard. “i was actually hoping you’d be able to come in two weeks from now? we should be able to see the contraction of a heartbeat since you’ll be ten weeks by then.” you gasped softly. “oh, i would love that!” you nodded frantically, looking up at rafe just to confirm. “yeah, that sounds amazing.” he smiled, stroking your arm before the nurse adjusted the glasses on her nose.

you couldn’t help but feel antsy because of how excited you were, everything hitting you all at once. you were really going to have a baby. with rafe especially, you couldn’t imagine anyone else in his position. “well, i’m going to go set that up then and print out your overview for the appointment. you could go ahead and change back into your clothes and once your done the receptionist will have your paperwork to take home.” you and rafe thanked her and bid her goodbye before she stepped out.

you took everything in once it was just you and rafe, both of you sitting in silence as you gathered your thoughts. now that all you wanted to do was see that sonogram, you knew these next couple of weeks were going to get here agonizingly slow. “let’s get your clothes on.” you let rafe dress you back up, the two of you making your way up front and getting the papers. you were jumping excitedly on your way out once you saw the due date, rafe taking his camera out and getting what felt like the hundredth photo of you today.

“i can’t wait to find out the gender, we’re going to have the cutest nursery!” you squealed excitedly nearly tripping over your feet before rafe rushed over and got you in the truck. “so how about those sandwiches?”

[starboye]

weird!reader and rafe back at it again

pestering rafe all day asking if you can stack donuts on it (the it being that fat cock) but he just kept telling you no so what better way to get him to say yes other than pester him all day

no matter what he was doing you asked him if you could stack some donuts on his dick even if it was just one you just wanted to see what it was like or even how it looked (or tasted)

but it was the same answer time and time again "no" but what could he do when it was just you and him in the car, after so long of you pestering he stopped by store and got the donuts before driving to your place (because there's no way he would do this at his)

angrily walking in and sitting on the couch before handing you the box, pulling down his pants to show he was already rock hard "oh but i thought this was weird but look at mr cameron all hard" you tease him making his dick jump a little

placing the donuts carefully until they reached the top with just rafes tip peaking out, quickly pulling out your phone and taking a picture before he could stop you "don't share that with anyone" rafe orders "don't worry im gonna jerk off to it later" you say

"now what" rafe asks "well donuts are best with milk and you got the best milkers on the island right here" you go to grab his pecs but he stops you "were not doing that again" rafe shakes his head "meanie" you pout turning away

"fine then you can jerk me off" he huffs "yayyy" you cheer

[hauntedfawnn]

YEEEEEAHHHHHHH🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

I need handyman!rafe smut right now! The thought is making my brain mush because I just know he’s gonna go completely feral when he finally gets to lick into you. Like he def will start by eating it through your panties, till he gets impatient and is pulling them off and stuffing them in the back pocket of his jeans while he starts feasting like a starved man. Like pleaseeeee😫😫😫😫😫

warnings — handyman!rafe, groping, teasing, dry humping, dirty talk, rafe eating you out through your panties, panty stealing (common trend w him), oral (f. receiving) wc — 1k (missed my icky man sm + got carried away ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა)

handyman!rafe m.list

rafe walked you up to your apartment after your date, not necessarily ready to leave your side just yet. “thank you for walking me to my apartment; you didn’t have to do that,” you smiled softly, digging through your purse for your keys. “i know i didn’t have to, but i wanted to, plus i need to make sure you got into your place safely,” he leaned against the doorframe. “this entire complex is one of the top ten safest to live in,” you bickered.

“can never be too safe, doll face," rafe tsked, watching you pull your key out from your purse. "i guess you're right," you hum, inserting the key into the lock and twisting it until you hear the faint sound of a 'click'. you stood there for a second as if you were having a debate in your head.

pushing your nerves to the back of your mind, you turned to face him, “would you want to come in for a bit?” your soft voice rang through his ears. he nearly had to pinch himself; he had to be dreaming, right? sure, he's been in your apartment countless times to do his job, but this was different.

you took his hand in yours, locking the door behind you when the two of you entered your apartment. “tryin’ to get me all alone, huh?” rafe teased, plopping himself onto your couch, “maybe,” your flushing face giving you away. "maybe? why else would you ask me to come in?" he smirked, grabbing your hips to pull you onto his lap.

rafe grasped the back of your neck, his lips molding into yours within seconds. his hand on your hip slid to the small of your back, pulling your body into his as close as possible. he nipped at your bottom lip, teasingly sucking it between his own lips, making you moan.

he swore he'd bust in his jeans at the sound, "jesus...'m trying so hard to behave." he groaned, "but you're killing me." you giggled against his lips, a gasp replacing it when his tongue slipped into your mouth with ease. his hands cupped your ass, lifting you off his lap to settle you flat onto the couch on your back.

your lips were glossy with a combination of your spit when he broke the kiss to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses onto your jaw and neck. you yelped as his teeth nipped at your flesh, his tongue following suit to soothe the sting. rafe was painfully hard, his bulge straining against the denim of his jeans. he pulled your legs to wrap around his hips, pressing and rolling his into yours, "feel that? feel what you do to me, doll face?"

"y-yes," you stammered, your hips bucking against his. rafe's hands moved under your top, palming your breasts. his thumbs rolled and pinched your hardened buds through the lace of your bra. your clit catches onto his clothed cock the harder he grinds against you. his lips find yours again, silencing your pathetic whimpers, the thinness of your skirt barely acting as a barrier between the rough denim of his jeans and your panties. "m-more," you whined, causing a deep chuckle to rumble through rafe's chest.

"more? what more do you need, hm? my fingers? my mouth? or maybe my cock? gotta use that pretty mouth to tell me, or i can't give it to you, sweet girl," he taunted. "anything, please, rafe! just need you to touch me," you begged, desperate for the slightest ounce of his touch.

“fuck…anything?” his mind already made up, his cock twitching in his jeans at the thought of what he’s been wanting to do for months. you propped your upper body on your elbows, watching him snake his way down your body, leaving a wake of wet kisses onto your tummy. he fisted your skirt in his hands, dragging them off your hips and carelessly tossing them aside. his large palms ran up your thighs, pushing them apart to slot himself between them.

his breath catches in his throat when his eyes meet the wet spot in your panties. "barely touched you, and you already ruined these pretty panties," he rasped. you mewl as his tongue licks a stripe up your folds to your clit against the soaked material. "shit, been dying to taste this sweet pussy," he moaned, your wetness seeping through and coating his tongue.

you squirmed under him as he licked and sucked your sensitive bud through the pink lace. rafe was growing impatient; he couldn't wait for a second longer; he needed his tongue on your bare cunt. he pulled back, the lace now translucent from being ruined with your arousal and his spit. his fingers tucked into the waistband, dragging them down your legs, "gonna save these for later as my personal souvenir."

he stuffed the pair into the back pocket of his jeans before hooking his arms under your thighs to pull them over his shoulders and yanking you forward. "prettiest pussy i've ever seen," he groaned, burying his head between your legs. his tongue slipped through your slick folds, "and the fuckin' sweetest."

your back arched off the couch, his tongue circling your puffy clit before closing his lips around the bud. your hips jerked against him, his nails indenting into your skin. "shouldn't ask for more if you're gonna try to run from it," rafe hummed, pinning your hips to inhibit you from moving away.

your jaw goes slack as he ate you like you were his last meal; he's desperate and has been dying for this moment, and now that he's finally got a taste, he's not letting up. your head fell back into the pillow when his tongue delved inside you. "please…" you whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut. the tip of his nose grinds against your clit as you shamelessly rocked your hips. your sweet whimpers and moans did nothing but spur rafe on, his tongue flicking at your sensitive bud over and over.

a choked sob travels up your throat, your orgasm ripping through you when he harshly sucks at your poor clit. he greedily lapped at your sweet release, pulling himself away to press a kiss to your inner thigh. he gently set your trembling legs down, crawling back up to hover over you. "god, you have no idea how long i've been wanting to do that," he muttered, dipping his head down.

you taste yourself on his lips, his hand inching lower between your bodies. you gasp into his mouth at the feeling of the pad of his thumb rubbing circles on your poor sensitive clit, “you like that?” rafe whispers. “mhm! you whine, “good ‘cause ‘m not done with this sweet little cunt. i plan on burying my face between these thighs all night.”

taglist: @oceandriveab @rafescorpsebride @hauntedfawnn @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesangelita @nemesyaaa @whinyangel @rafesthroatbaby @rafescvntyclubgf @zyafics @rafesbabygirlx @dollyfiles @eerielamb @heartsforvin @ilovefiction4lmen @jjslaybank @littlelamy @sturnioloshacker @rafesbows @6r4cie @carolineisdelusional @starkeysbebe @momoewn @kazanskied @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafeslovergirly

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓕𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂

​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇱​​🇴​​🇻​​🇪​ ​🇨​​🇴​​🇦​​🇨​​🇭​

𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡!𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙲𝙴𝙾!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕. 𝚂𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜—𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖.

cw | smut, swearing, older!rafe, pet names, jealousy, possessiveness, unprotected p in v, choking, oral female receiving, squirting.

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Reader’s POV:

You look out the window of your glass-walled office, adjusting and smoothing the fabric of your blazer nervously, watching as the city bustles below you—people rushing around with somewhere to be and someone to see. Expect you…

You would be lying if you said you were proud of how fast you climbed the ladder, but rightfully so; that ascent didn’t come without a cost. Your life was full of staff meetings, high-stress phone calls, and negotiations. On paper, you had it all: money, power, and influence, except for one thing: someone to share it all with. Romance. What the hell is that, anyway?

Walking over to your desk, you crash down in your chair, blowing out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in, letting your shoulders fall for a beat. You take in the silence around you momentarily, your thoughts robbing you of that peace fast.

You were focused so much on your career that everything else seemed to fall by the wayside. Until recently…

Pope Heyward.

The handsome lawyer across the hall in your highrise. He was everything you found attractive: handsome, intelligent, kind… You first noticed him when you shared an elevator ride. He greeted you with a polite smile and a warm and rich ‘Good morning.’ You tripped and tumbled over your words, avoiding eye contact entirely. Each morning since has been a compilation of the world's most basic gestures: finger waves and nods in passing.

It was maddening. You could hold a boardroom at your command and negotiate multi-million dollar deals without breaking a sweat, but a simple smile from that handsome lawyer had you tongue-tied and flustered. You felt ridiculous. Even worse, you felt helpless.

One particularly lonely night, you poured yourself a glass of wine and grabbed your phone, pulling up every magazine article and self-help blog you could. It wasn’t long before you stumbled upon a man promising you precisely what you were looking for. Romance. All achievable with the help of Matchmaker and Love Coach Rafe Cameron…

His website was professional–Its pages filled with testimonials from executives, lawyers, doctors, and other high-powered professionals who had forgotten about their love lives along the way.

You were hesitant, fingers hovering over the contact button, digits drumming on the arm of your couch, holding yourself back until you broke. Hiring Rafe to fix all the problems with your love life felt absurd, but it was broken… You would do the same to any other thing or aspect of your life that needed fixing. Why not this too?

The next day, you sat in a private booth, looking out onto the cafe you were waiting at. Your lips trembled as you took a few sips of coffee. You looked down at your watch, clocking the time–two minutes until your planned meeting time. Your heart started to pound in your chest, your body felt like it needed to flee—

“Miss?”

You looked up from your seat, startled and wide-eyed. Rafe was younger than you expected: light hair and striking blue eyes that twinkled in the warm cafe lights. He smiled, making your heart skip a beat.

“Rafe Cameron,” he said, extending a hand. Your cheeks warmed at how clammy your grip was. He had been in your presence for no more than 10 seconds, and he could already tell you were a mess when it came to this. He reached for the button of his tailored navy blazer, unfastening it before sitting across from you.

“Thank you for meeting me,” you said, trying to steady your voice.

“Of course. Of course. So, what can I help you with?” He asks as he tilts his head slightly, the sight of the beautiful man before you sending you into a tailspin.

“Umm… I – I don’t have time for dating.”

“Of course, you don’t; you’re very successful,” he praises. “You didn’t get to the position you’re in by accident.”

You shake your head and smile softly, taking in his compliment. You glance down at your coffee, finding yourself slightly overwhelmed with his full focus as you come to terms with the fact that this is the longest conversation you’ve had with a man in years that had something to do with anything other than business.

“Well, when I meet someone, I tend to overthink it and freeze up… It’s frustrating.”

“And you’re not used to that in your career, so why is your private life so different?” He asks earnestly, voicing all your concerns like he’s reading your mind. “It’s not uncommon... You’re so used to excelling in every aspect of your work life–you’re so used to being in control–that dating feels like that one thing you just can’t seem to get right.”

“Exactly,” you sigh.

“We just have to get you out of your head, yeah?” He asks.

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” You whisper against the lip of your coffee cup before taking a sip.

Your heart starts to race as Rafe smile stretches along his pretty lips. He leans forward, lessening the space between the two of you. “The basics first: confidence, connection, clarity.”

“Sounds easier said than done,” you chuckle weakly.

Rafe grins and nods in agreement. “Once you get that little bit of confidence and find something you really want, everything will fall into place, I promise. Is there someone you want?” You bite your lip, stifling a smile. “Great,” Rafe said, his grin widening.

“He’s a lawyer across the hall from my office,” you gossip; your voice is soft and meek.

“Really? That’s perfect. Tell me about him.”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐ 𝒶 𝒻𝑒𝓌 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇…

“You’re quiet,” Rafe hums during your afternoon session as his beautiful blue eyes continue to study your movements. “What’s on your mind?”

You take a deep breath, rolling out the tension in your neck. “Nothing… You know how I am.”

“Talk to me,” he answers simply, leaning into the arm of the oversized office chair.

“Just work,” you answer. “It’s nothing really–boring “me” stuff.”

“Bullshit,” he laughs and shakes his head. “Lay it on me. You know you can talk to me–” And that’s the problem. You could talk to him for hours, without hesitation–without stress. Talking to Rafe was the opposite of speaking to the Pope, his presence making you crumble before him. Still…

“It’s discouraging,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips. “With you, I feel like I can do it–”

“It?”

“Be me. I don’t know why it’s so hard with him.”

“Do you think you’re trying to be the kind of woman you think he wants instead of showing him who you are?”

Your lips draw to the side as you take in his words. “Maybe…”

“Well, there’s no need for that… You’re more than enough,” he praises.

Rafe crosses his arms over his broad chest, reading you like a book. The material of his linen shirt strains as his muscles flex unintentionally; a playful smile plays on his lips as he looks back at you.

Your lashes flutter as you feel butterflies swirl in your stomach. You break eye contact, feeling the weight of his stare.

It’s nothing…. Rafe is good at what he does—reading people and making them feel seen. That’s why it was so easy to talk to him. That’s all it was.

It wasn’t just the praise that lingered… It was the way he said it and looked into your eyes that had your heart racing. You bite your lips, hanging your head momentarily, pulling yourself back to reality.

He’s the man trying to help you… Stop.

“Let’s run through a scenario, hmm?” Rafe asks, breaking the silence. Your eyes lift to his in annoyance, making Rafe snorts out a laugh. “C’mon. It’s your favorite,” he teases as he pushes himself out of the chair, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. “Elevator.”

You poke out your bottom lip as you look back at him, stepping out from behind your desk before walking toward him. “Elevator again?” You sigh.

“Mhmm…” He breathes as he looks down at you, taking a step closer. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’d ask him about his day… Maybe ask if he had plans for the weekend.”

“Good,” he smiles. “And what else?” The corner of his lips curl into a smirk

Your breath catches in your chest as his rich cologne fills your nose. “I–I…” You swallow hard, trying to gain the confidence you lost in a moment.

“I?” He asks as his brows lift, urging you to speak and recall anything he taught you.

“I–” You swallow the lump that formed in your throat. “I’d probably panic and say something stupid about work,” you breathe, letting your shoulders fall as you look up at him with hopeless eyes.

Rafe laughs deeply, sending a warmth straight through you.

“You’re overthinking it… You’re not trying to impress him, remember? You’re just talking. You’re not trying to change yourself. It does not have to be him, aight? If he’s not a good fit for you, someone else will be. Pope Heyward is not the end all to be all… But, if he is, he’s a lucky man, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper.

"You've idealized him in your mind, and now you are worried you’ll fall short of this ideal. You don't have to prove anything— not to him, not to anyone. He should be so lucky. So just speak to him like you’d speak to me.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“That’s because it is,” Rafe hums, his voice softening. “You’re incredible. You just need to believe it and let him in.”

Ring. Ring.

Your phone buzzes, breaking the tension between the two of you. You walk over, looking down at the notification for the three o’clock meeting. “Can we finish this conversation on the road? I have a meeting.”

Rafe follows you to the elevator, stepping inside with you. Your heart skips a beat, and your body freezes as you notice the two other people in there as well: Pope and Alexis Johnson, his partner at the firm.

“Are you going up?” Pope’s baritone voice fills the lift. You look up at him and smile, nodding your head as you feel your anxiety rise. He lets out a breathy chuckle, giving you a sweet smile. “Floor?” He mouths the words inaudible.

“Oh, umm, twenty-five,” you smile as you lean forward simultaneously, bumping hands before letting him select it for you.

You look out of the corner of your eye, catching Rafe’s half-focus as he looks down at his phone, trying to act nonchalant. Your eyes shift in the other direction, Pope’s eyes greeting yours.

“How’s everything going across the hall?” Pope asks as he turns toward you slightly.

“Oh, uh–um… It’s great,” you say brightly. You feel Rafe’s fingers push against your lower back, urging you to say something else. “How’s it going for you?” You ask, surprising yourself as it comes out, your voice more level than before.

“Keepin’ busy. We’re on our way to a meeting… I can’t even tell you how many I’ve had today,” he sighs.

“Same.”

Silence fills the elevator as the two of you stare at each other, smiling and nodding–not quite sure where to take the conversation next, considering you were two floors away from his stop, and honestly, you didn’t think you’d get much farther than this.

“I… Uh–” Ding. The elevator cuts you off.

“Were you gonna say something?” Pope asks as he leans in a little closer. His partner steps out of the elevator, accepting a phone call. Before you can respond, the elevator door starts to shut, adding to the awkwardness and making you feel like you could die from embarrassment right then and there as Pope catches it.

“No. No, it’s fine,” you assure as he looks over his shoulder at you.

“Okay. Have a great night.”

“You too,” you smile. Your eyes stay locked on the hallway ahead, avoiding eye contact with Rafe, just knowing what he would say next. The door skates closed, your eyes pinching shut with it.

“Rafe, I’m sorry. I–”

Beep.

“Hey,” Pope's voice makes your eyes open, your heart falling into your stomach as he catches the elevator door. “M’sorry if this is too forward, but are you free tonight?”

Your brain freezes again, unable to process his words.

Did Pope Heyward just ask me out after that?

“Tonight?” You repeat shakily.

Pope chuckles lightly. “Mhmm… It’s been on my mind for a while. Figured I might as well ask. I think we could both use a night out.”

You blink fast as you feel your heart hammer in your chest. “Yeah… Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Great,” Pope answers as his smile widens on his lips. He reaches into the breast pocket of his suit, grabbing his card. “Text me? Just tell me where you want to go. Anywhere you’d like.”

You take the card off him, clutching it in your clammy hand as he gives you a nod. “See you tonight.”

“Can’t wait,” you answer as the elevator doors close. You bite your lips, holding back an all-to-wide smile, your eyes wide like saucers, processing what just happened. You turn towards Rafe, meeting his eyes, a mixture of surprise and disbelief painted all over your face. “Did that just happen?” You ask excitedly. Your hand slaps over your mouth, unable to fight it any longer.

“It did,” Rafe answers, his tone light, lacking his usual warmth.

“I mean, he just—out of nowhere—asked me out,” you continue, half-talking to yourself. “I didn’t think he even noticed me like that.”

Rafe adjusts the collar of his shirt, his movements a little more clipped than before. His lips turn upward as he gives you a forced smile. “Why wouldn’t he? You’re brilliant, successful; it would be hard not to notice you.”

You tilt your head, studying him this time.

“Are you okay?”

Your words seem to snap him out of his daze. His eyes and smile get a little brighter, recovering in an instant. “Of course. This is what you’ve been workin’ for. This is what you want. I’m… I am happy for you.”

The two of you exit the elevator and walk toward the meeting rooms. Rafe keeps his eyes locked on the path ahead, his silence unheard of up to this point. His quick wit and notes always seem to be at the ready. You couldn’t help but think that maybe that didn’t go as well as you thought it did…

Rafe looks over at you, trying to keep himself composed.

He’d told himself from the beginning that this was just a job like he had done with so many other people before you without any issue…. His role was to guide you, not feel anything for you.

For weeks, he had helped you build your confidence— to pursue someone else… But there he stood, hearing your excitement over your date, feeling nothing but jealousy, realizing how deeply he miscalculated it all.

He hated the way Pope looked at you… He hated how his chest tightened whenever you mentioned his name or smiled at the thought of another man. But, what he hated the most was the realization that he had already lost you before he ever had the chance to tell you how he felt.

He was dishing out relationship advice and not taking a word of it for himself.

“I’ll see you at our next session,” Rafe smiles, his tone polite but distant.

“Thanks again, Rafe. I’ll let you know how it goes,” you answer as he walks away. He lifts his fist, giving you a thumbs up, his body still turned, unable to even look back at you now.

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐ 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉…

Knock. Knock.

Your heart flutters as you hear Rafe on the other side of your apartment door. You stand up, smoothing out your dress, feeling your excitement rise.

He had said, ‘he’d see you at your next session.’ but a few hours after he left the office, he called, letting you know he would stop by to send you off. ‘One last pep talk before your big date.’

You open the door with a smile, your breath hitching as you see Rafe—his muscular body hugged in an all-black tailored suit. His black button-down is opened slightly, showing off the gold chain glimmering on his tanned chest.

He looks equally as surprised to see you, his eyes falling down your body as your heart pounds in your chest, your black dress practically painted over your curves. Rafe takes a shallow breath and smiles before looking back at you. “You look… Fuck. You look stunning.”

“Thank you,” you answer bashfully as you step to the side, letting him in, your eyes following the sleek lines of his suit as well. You bite your lip, trying to hold back everything you were holding in. “You look great,” you smile. “Very handsome.”

Rafe grins as he leans back into the counter, a rosy blush washed across his cheeks. He looks down momentarily, collecting himself before returning his attention to you.

“How are you feelin’?” He asks as he relaxes a little more—his eyes still drinking you in.

“A little nervous,” you giggle as you step forward in your sky-high heels, feeling your ankles wobble slightly from your nerves.

“Got no reason to be. But, I get it–” He sighs. “I get that way too sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask.

“Mhmm…” He hums. “I brought you somethin’.” You glance down, noticing the little red bag in his hand.

“You got me a gift?” You gasp.

“A few… Yeah,” he says as he beckons you closer. You take the bag off his hands, pulling out the paper. “You can put this in your ear if you’d like. I think it would be good for me to hear what’s goin’ on. I’m sure it will go just fine, but I think I can give you the best guidance for our next session if I hear it all.”

“Oh?” You ask as you look up at him, pressing the little piece in your ear before covering it with your hair. “Are you coming?”

“That okay? Besides bein’ in your ear, you won’t even know I'm there. Scouts honor.”

Rafe reaches up, rechecking it, letting his rough hand fall slightly to cup your soft cheek. Your heart swells at the contact between the two of you.

“Do you do this for everyone?” You whisper through a slight smile.

He doesn’t answer quite yet, fighting back a smirk as he gives you a little shrug, letting his silence answer your question for the moment.

You lean into him a little, making his heart melt.

“Every client is different…” he mumbles as he pulls out another gift. “Some perfume–Baccarat Rouge–my personal favorite. Romantic, sexy, decadent… everything you are, okay? I want you to feel good.” You feel your cheeks pool with heat, hearing those words fall so easily from his lips.

Rafe reaches out, holding your hand to spray the elixir on your wrist before drawing it to his nose, taking in your scents paired so beautifully together.

“Beautiful.”

You smell it as well, taking in all the rich notes as Rafe reaches into the bag, pulling out one last gift with a smile. A blood-red box with Cartier embossed in gold.

“Rafe-” You start, but he clicks his tongue, stopping you fast.

“Every client’s different…” His voice falls a little more. Rafe steps closer, resting his hands on your hips before turning you around. “Hold your hair for me.”

The warmth of his breath fans along your neck as he wraps the jewelry around your throat before clasping it shut.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

You glance around the elegant downtown restaurant, your heart pounding beneath the fitted bodice of your dress. The table is set with fine china and sparkling glasses; candlelights dance softly between them.

This was your chance… This was the moment you’d been working toward for weeks, but all you could think about was earlier. The gifts… Rafe’s sweet words and the moment you shared at your place.

“Relax,” Rafe’s voice comes through softly, calm and reassuring. “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.” You look up at Pope and smile before shifting your attention just over his shoulder, catching Rafe’s sparkling blue eyes as he sips his martini.

You won't even know I'm there…

“So,” Pope says, leaning forward slightly.

“So,” you smile and giggle, feeding off his excitement.

“What’s a normal day like for you?” He asks curiously before taking a sip of wine.

You hesitate momentarily before Rafe’s voice quickly cuts through your nerves. “Keep it light,” he hums.

“Ugh,” you groan, releasing an exhausted laugh that Pope quickly mirrors, lightening the mood even more as you say so much without a single utterance.

“Same,” he jokes.

“—Meetings, calls, and trying to keep up with my team’s endless stream of ideas.”

“Sounds like chaos,” he adds.

“Controlled chaos,” you reply with a smile as your confidence grows.

“Perfect,” Rafe praises softly in your ear. “You’re doing great. Don’t stop.”

The conversation continues to flow effortlessly, ebbing and flowing between you and Pope, sharing stories. You feel lighter, more comfortable than you’ve ever felt in his presence.

Rafe adjusts in his seat nervously as he watches you from afar.

This should have been a win for him–yet another happy client, yet another glowing testimonial he could add to his portfolio.

The knife to the heart was the date he helped you achieve. It’s twist was every laugh… Every beautiful smile stolen from him and gifted to Pope.

“You’re doing amazing,” Rafe says, keeping his voice steady. “Ask him about somethin’ outside of work—maybe a hobby or something he’s passionate about.”

You smile, giving the man on the other side of the earpiece a subtle nod as your eyes stay set on Pope’s. “So, what do you do when you’re not winning cases? Any hobbies?” Pope’s face lights up, the man launching quickly into a story about the language he’s learning and his upcoming trip to Paris.”

“No way,” you smile. “Tell me more.”

“Keepin’ the conversation going… Perfect,” Rafe praises, his words barely passing his lips, cracking with all the emotion he felt.

His heart aches. His jealousy weighed heavily on his heart. Every layer revealed to Pope just pulled you further and further away.

Rafe clenches his jaw, his blunt nails driving into the thigh of his dress pants. He tosses his head back for the moment, willing himself to stay focused–to stay rational when all he wants to do is storm across the restaurant and have you for himself.

“Do you date often?” Pope asks curiously. “Have you tried any of the apps or anything?”

“No,” you shake your head and smile. “Have you?”

Pope’s lip pulls, nose flaring slightly in disgust with his past experiences. “The apps are a mess. If I’m being honest, Raya, on the very, very rare occasion… For the obvious–”

Rafe perks up in his seat, his figure shifting to pull your attention to where he sits, projecting his sheer disgust like that was some out-of-pocket thing for an adult to say.

Umm…” You hum through a little nervous laugh at Rafe’s reaction, turning your focus back to Pope. “I get that,” you smile.

You listen as Rafe chuckles annoyedly in the earpiece, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight.

Pope's smile widens at your response; a slight bite of his bottom lip gives you a pretty good idea of where his thoughts are drifting to.

“You travel?” He asks, throwing his voice a little lower than before.

“I haven’t had the chance to,” you sigh.

“Neither have I,” Pope smiles, “but I’m tryin’ to take better care of myself.”

“Are you going with anyone?” You ask curiously. “To Paris?”

“No one yet,” he smiles. “I’m hopeful though. I’m stayin’ at this beautiful boutique hotel by the Eiffel Tower, sightseeing, amazing food, great wine. It’d be a shame if I had to do that alone. Wouldn’t mind sharin’ that trip with someone… Someone who makes me laugh, smart, and hardworking who could finally relax with me.”

“Someone hardworking that could relax…” Rafe hums, his voice dripping with intimacy—filling your ear—making it feel like he’s surrounding you. “Think I could take care of her myself.”

Your eyes widen as you look back at Pope, hearing Rafe’s words. You try to keep your composure as both men shoot their shot; Rafe’s so unexpected that you question if you even heard him right in the first place.

“You’d like that, wouldn't you?” Rafe asks, making you flutter your lashes as your words get stuck on your lips. Pope shifts uneasily, making your embarrassment rise, knowing just how long you let his words hang in the air as you processed Rafe’s “Sorry,” Pope fumbles. “M’sorry if that was too forward. I-”

“Oh my god, no—no, you’re fine,” you assure.

“He’s not…” Rafe adds. “I agree with him. That was too forward,” Rafe taunts. “That’s date two talk, princess. He needs to stay in his lane.”

“And what lane are you in?”

“Pardon me?” Pope asks as you challenge Rafe, your stomach instantly falling at the realization you replied to Rafe's injection.

“Sorry,” you huff, trying your best to recover. “I worded that oddly. Uh… umm. What street is the hotel on? I meant street, not lane,” you ramble. “I’m still a little nervous.”

“No, please… Don’t be,” Pope softens his tone. The waitress walks over, setting a dessert down in the middle. You grab your fork, quickly taking a bite to avoid speaking and more. “I’m actually not sure of the street, but it’s in the Champs-Élysées neighborhood.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“Well, again, I’m hopeful,” Pope smiles. “How’s your dessert, sweetheart?”

“No,” Rafe warns as the first pet name leaves Pope’s lips. “Fuck no.”

“It’s delicious,” you answer

“Delicious, huh?” Rafe asks. “Careful, you. You’re makin’ me jealous.”

Your heart starts to race in your chest; the banging battling with Rafe’s secret conversation and Pope’s desperate attempt to compete with the man you wished you were sitting across from.

This should be a simple conversation with Pope, but at this moment, it feels nothing but. Your breathing tightens, body aching with want for Rafe.

“I feel bad, princess… he has no clue you’re mine.”

“Stop,” you whisper sharply to Rafe, though the corners of your lips twitch in spite of yourself.

“Stop what?” Pope asks, looking even more confused.

“Stop, I think I know them,” you nod to the entrance as an unknown couple walks in. Pope looks over his shoulder, and you take the opportunity to reach in your ear, digging out the earpiece before dramatically dropping it into your after-dinner coffee. It falls into the brew with a plop, the angle giving Rafe a clear view, catching your defiance. Your eyes drift from his back to your date as Pope turns back.

“Just can’t escape the office, can you?” He laughs. “Neither can I,” he sighs as you look back toward the door, seeing his partner from the firm standing next to her husband, waiting to be seated.

“It’s crazy, right,” you gossip as you lean in. The second you do, your phone vibrates in your purse. No question who it is. “I apologize,” you whisper, Pope quickly gesturing it’s okay.

Rafe: Now why did you do that?

You: You were distracting me.

Rafe: Maybe I’m meant to distract you sweetheart

Your fingers tightened around her phone, a small thrill shooting through you.

Maybe I’m meant to distract you?

You stuff your phone in your purse, determined to finish the date without Rafe wiping out every thought in your head until you’re done, but it’s useless.

Your mind was long gone. It wasn’t on Pope or the beautiful dinner, and at that moment, even without Rafe’s lust-laced words in your ear, everything started to blur. Your mind’s consumed with thoughts of only Rafe, Rafe, Rafe…

But most importantly, the realization that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Your phone buzzes again. Then again. Then again. Five messages, back to back. “I’m so sorry…” You sigh.

“It’s fine. Truly,” Pope assures once more. You swallow hard before finally caving and pulling your phone out of your purse again.

Rafe: I just need to say this.

Rafe: I like you

Rafe: I can’t do this.

Rafe: I can’t sit here and listen to you flirt with him.

Rafe: Tell me you feel it too. Tell me this isn’t just in my head.

You: I don’t know what to do.

Rafe: Yes you do. You just have to choose it.

Rafe: Choose me.

Rafe: I’m going to call you in ten seconds. Take it, and I’ll get you out of here.

Rafe: I’ll take care of you.

You watch your phone tremble in your hand as he promised, your adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Rafe Cameron.

You stare at the screen for a second longer. Then, before you can think about it anymore—you answer. Rafe’s voice is all business, but you could hear the smirk behind it.

“Hey, baby,” he greets you smoothly, “we have a problem. I need you now.”

You exhale shakily and nod, forcing yourself to look apologetic and worried as you glance up at Pope. “I—I’m so sorry. I have to go. There’s something I need to handle.”

Pope looks back at you, surprised but concerned. “Is everything alright? I-”

“I hope so,” you whisper, quickly grabbing your purse. You reach into your bag, pulling out your wallet.

“Please, I insist,” Pope stops you, resting his hand on your arm, and you can’t help but feel a slight tinge of guilt, quickly overshadowed by the thoughts of the man waiting for you just a few feet away.

You walk toward the door, floating through the thick crowd, until you hit open air, and before you can take another step, you're pulled in, Rafe’s lips pressing against yours, taking your breath away.

This kiss isn’t soft… It isn’t hesitant, either. Deep, commanding, hungry, possessive, desperate, anything and everything you could have wanted, shattering the pressure built between the two of you with a single exchange.

You gasp into his mouth as he pulls you in closer, pressing his muscular body against yours, pushing you against the chilled brick wall.

Rafe groans softly, his grip tightening on your hip, his other hand cradling the back of your neck, needing you close. You melt into him, your hands gripping his Gucci suit jacket, barely aware of the city bustling around you—your thoughts still revolving around the man you had hoped for weeks would see you as more than just a client whose sweet words weren’t just there to raise your confidence, and prepare you for someone else, but because he genuinely felt those things… and wanted you for himself.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless. Rafe lets out a low chuckle, his forehead resting against yours. “I knew you’d take the call,” he whispers. You hear the purr of Rafe’s BMW roll up to the curb. “Let’s get you outta here, huh?” He asks, his voice hoarse and deep as his lips brush gently against yours.

“You said you were gonna take care of me. Is that a promise?” You whisper, feeling him smile against your lips.

“I swear.”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

“You’re so perfect. You know that?” Rafe asks as he kisses your neck, making your pussy throb.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you whimper.

He chuckles against your hot skin, that same laugh that filled your ears during your date—driving you crazy then—doing nothing but make your need for him worse now.

“Goddamn, baby…” He mumbles as his big hand roams your curves. “I don’t know how I lasted this long,” he squeezes your breast in his large hand as he sucks off your bottom lip nice and slow. “I don’t know how I went this long without hearing you say my name like that either… Say it again,” he taunts as his hand cups your sex, making you moan for him.

“Rafe, please…” You whine.

“So fuckin’ needy for me, huh… No one else gets to see you like this. No one.”

“No one else,” you whisper breathily through a smile as he glides two thick fingers up your soaked slit. “Shit,” you whimper as he traces his fingers around your entrance. “I need you…”

“I can feel how much you need me, sweetheart. You’re shit at hiding it,” he smirks as he moves his hand higher, teasing your clit with the pads of his rough fingers.

Rafe hisses out a breath as you reach between the two of you, wrapping your fingers around the base of his thick dick, making him hiss out a breath. You stroke your hand up, pull to his fat tip, watching precum glisten and leak out of his slit onto your body.

“Am I the only one that needs something?” You whisper, feeling his hard cock twitch in your hand. You drop the other, running your finger through the little puddle before bringing it to your lips, sucking it clean, watching Rafe as he watches you.

“I need you so bad,” he whispers. “I can’t tell you how many nights I thought about this.”

You grab his neck, pulling him down to your lips, bringing him in closer. “I’ve thought about you every night, Rafe.”

“Every night, huh?” He asks.

“Every. Night-” Your words get lost in a moan as Rafe plunges two fingers into your soaked core, making you throw your head deep into the pillow.

He kisses your chest as he starts to fuck his fingers into you, wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking harshly, making your back arch off the mattress.

He curls his long fingers inside you, pulling out moan after moan from his hand alone.

Rafe kisses down your body, making your heart pound in your chest as he gets lower and lower. Your legs draw in, but he grabs your thighs, pushing them into the mattress, holding you open to look down at your glossy cunt.

Rafe leans down on the mattress, biceps, and shoulders flexing from the angle of his body, his eyes set on yours from between your thighs as he gives you a few teasing licks.

“Holy shit,” you squeal, and just as you do, he wraps his big arms around your thighs, pulling your warmth toward his face.

Rafe kisses your clit before sucking down, making your lace your fingers into his hair, pulling at the root, guiding him closer. He drops one arm, making you gasp as he pushes his fingers inside your pussy— his mouth works on you as well.

Your head starts to spin—lightheaded from the sensation of his skilled tongue and digits.

“I’m close,” you whimper, making him moan into your heat.

The vibrations make you fall apart in an instant.

Rafe sucks down harshly as you flutter around his fingers, your vision blurry as stars dance in your eyes. “Rafe, fuck!” You cry, fighting against him slightly, but he only holds you closer, finger and tongue fucking you through your orgasm, straight into overstimulation ‘til tears start to cloud your eyes.

“That was beautiful, baby,” he mumbles against your heat, pressing teasing kisses on your clit, watching your body jump in response.

“Rafe…” You whimper as you look down at him. He looks up at you and smiles, lips glistening with your slick.

“Yeah, pretty?” He asks teasingly as he kisses your inner thigh.

“Fuck my pussy.”

Rafe’s eyes roll back at your demands and your taste lingering on his tongue. He grabs your body, guiding you without effort to your hands and knees, lifting your ass into the air.

He spanks you, the loud crack of his palm against your supple flesh filling the room. You arch your back, making him release a desperate groan as he looks down at you, eyeing your slick, watching your wetness leak down your inner thighs.

Rafe grips his thick dick in his hand, slapping it against your ass before running his velvety head up your thighs, sopping up the mess.

You gasp as he presses his tip in, feeling him stretch you out already. Your thighs trembles, your breathing shaky as you do the math, realizing how long it has been since you’ve had sex, let alone with anyone Rafe’s size.

Rafe pushes in, inch by inch, making your mouth fall open as your body stretches around him.

“Pussy’s just made for my cock, baby,” he mumbles as he presses his body flush with your ass when you’ve finally taken all of him.

You circle your hips, adjusting to his size, feeling his thick dick hit all the right spots. “Feels so damn good—”

“Can’t believe he almost got this…” He pulls his hips back, drawing out nice and slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as his big hands find your hips. “All fuckin’ mine-”

“Fuck!” You scream as he snaps his hips forward, the two of you moaning in unison as your pussy sucks him in.

Rafe starts to work him cock in your cunt at the perfect pace—his skin clapping against yours with every thrust, the sounds of your wet pussy squelching.

“Mmpfh…” You whine as your head falls forward. “Right there, baby.” Rafe picks up the pace, hitting your sweet spot again and again.

”Yeah, sweetheart? Right there?” He asks through a smirk. “What else does my girl want, huh?”

“Harder,” you whimper.

“Shit, baby,” he laughs breathlessly as he starts to drill into you. Your fingers claw at the sheets as you feel yourself just seconds away from your climax.

You feel an unfamiliar heat in your belly, and before you can think, your pussy releases, squirting all over the mattress and Rafe’s cock.

“Fuckkk,” he moans, dragging out the words as his body sloshes through the wet mess. “So good for me… Tell me, princess. Tell me no one else has ever fucked you like this. Tell me no one else will.”

“No one, Rafe,” you whimper. “Only—Oh god. Only you.”

Rafe pulls out fast, making you gasp as he tosses you to your back, thrusting himself back in before you can even come down from your high. “I wanna watch your face when you take my cum, baby,” he whispers against your lips.

You gasp as his fingers press against your clit, too, rubbing little circles on top as he throws his hips into you; your nails digging into his muscular back as he pounds your wet cunt.

Rafe pulls back slightly, looking down at you underneath him, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as you both get closer and closer to the edge.

Rafe presses his palm against your chest, feeling your heart hammer against it, the beat echoing his own. His hand slides higher, wrapping around your neck, squeezing tightly.

“Rafe-” You gasp, letting out a choked moan. You grab your knees, pulling them up to your chest, making him stroke impossibly deep. “Please, Rafe. Fuck. Make me cum.”

“Say my name like that again, and I swear, I’ll never let you leave this fuckin’ bed again…” He groans through gritted teeth. “Cum for me.”

Your eyes roll back in your head, and your pussy pulses around his big cock. Rafe moans your name; his muscles strained as he cums deep inside.

Rafe rocks to a stop, his grip softening on your neck as his soft lips find yours. Rafe catches your whimpered breaths in his mouth, smiling softly against your lips before letting his tongue slip inside.

His tongue swirls with yours, making you feel like you could float away. You gasp again, his kiss as he rolls you quickly, pulling you onto his broad chest, his cock still throbbing inside.

“Holy shit,” he sighs breathlessly.

“Mmm… You're fired,” you giggle airily between soft kisses, making him chuckle.

“You’re firing me, princess?” He asks playfully as his hands smack and squeeze your ass. “How about this. I’ll work for free…”

“Oh yeah? You gonna make office visits?”

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he mumbles as he cups your cheeks in his hands, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. “‘Course I will.”

“Mmm… You can stay,” you whisper.

“I can stay? You found the one, huh?” He asks sweetly as he looks up at you with love in his eyes.

“I found everything I needed, Rafe…”

“So did I.”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

tags: @rafesthroatbaby | @marleymarleymarleymarley | @chelzaa | @rafesheaven | @nemesyaaa | @starkeysbabygirl | @littlelamy | @cameronsprincess | @lottalove4evelyn | @yasmin-oviedo | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @watchmerora | @rafeslovergirly | @buckybarnessweetheart | @anamiad00msday | @namelesslosers | @cades-outsider | @romaescapes | @starkeysprincess | @lish-0 | @oxpogues4lifexo | @unrealmirrorball | @lilithblackkk | @sleepiibunniiii | @gri959 | @rafesgiirl | @daryldixon83 | @akobx | @hyperfixationgirl | @lhhlver | @rrafeswhore | @slut-4-gojo | @blair-bears-blog | @loveesiren | @rafescorpsebride | @rafegf-real | @alphabetically-deranged | @ariana2saucyy | @rafestoothbrush | @hauntedfawnn | @laniirackssss | @wtfdudesblog | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @jkrafe | @alejstarkey | @rafe-cameronswife | @rafedaddy01 | @st8rkey

dividers | @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[lolxdswag123]

More fun to Miss (pt. 1)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Yn Ln has lived on the Cut her entire life. After Sarah Cameron joins her friend group, she has crossed paths with Sarah’s brother, Rafe, more than just a few times. Even as a pogue, everyone seems to have a soft spot for Yn. Rafe and Yn have become unlikely friends through their shared connection— Barry. The only problem is: Rafe doesn’t want anyone to know that he is friends with a pogue. Masterlist

[stvolanis]

PT.2

it was late at night when drug dealer! Rafe parked in front of your house in his truck that seemed too expensive for him considering what he was dropping off to you. You were shy, you’d never tried anything before—even though weed was common amongst your friends, you were always to scared to try it. Your friend Rose slid you her drug dealers instagram, and instructed you on how to act and what to say—but god, Rafe didn’t expect an absolute vision to walk outside.

Rafe immediately rolled down his window, almost like he was trying to get a better look at you the closer you approached. Your flimsy tank top didn’t leave much to hide, and his eyes zeroed in on the strap that fell off your shoulder and the faint outline of your nipples. fuck, you were trying to kill him, weren’t you? Your little white skirt made his cock twitch in its confinements, and he knew if you turned around he’d be able to see your ass cheeks faintly peeking out from the bottom.

you walked over to the passenger side of his truck nervously, opened the door and sat down just as your friend had instructed you to. “Uhm, hi.” You said after a moment of awkward silence. Rafe didn’t respond, only grunting in response as he dug through a bag trying to find what was yours. “This it, yeah, pretty girl?” He said, pulling out a purple see through bag filled with bud. “Yeah, uhm, how much did you say?” She asked, fumbling with her wallet for a second.

Rafe looked at her through hooded eyes, not necessarily because he was high, but because he was imaging every other better way of payment she could give him. He kept his mouth shut, but he didn’t miss the way her cheeks turned red after he’d called her pretty. “Whatchu doin’ with this anyway, huh? I wouldn’t take you as the type to do this shit. Too prissy.” He chuckled, manspread and relaxed. You gulped, squeezing your thighs together as heat pooled to your core. “Jus’ wanted to try it.” You responded, huffing in embarrassment at his mocking tone.

“I got something better you can try, baby.”

TAG LIST: @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @luxuriouslokistan-3 @jazminsjaz @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @floredaqueen @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy @vogueprincess @scintilla-morningstar @liv-n @armandosbabymama @axailslink @cosmixstar @bamtorriii

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . CONFESSION.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . mutt!Rafe admits what he did. | word count — 2.7k it was supposed to be a drabble my bad DAMN | warnings — no smut, pretty much all angst with some fluff at the end, blood and an injured hand, crying, mentions of murder, mentions of a murder cover up etc. (you guys aren’t even together yet you’re just this codependent already)

You rubbed your eyes for what felt like the fifteenth time that night and glanced over at the clock, which blinked 1:04 A.M. You had settled into bed hours ago, an old re-run of some colorful cartoon played on your TV. The ambience was perfect, it put you straight to sleep every night.

But not tonight.

Rafe was always back by now, always. Sure, sometimes he went out drinking or played long games of golf or fucked off to do something probably illegal somewhere on Kildare—but not past midnight. He’d returned home… his family home, with Ward, not too long ago. You knew it took a toll on him from how quiet he’d been recently. And despite being welcome back there, Rafe still spent most nights here, with you. You knew he hadn’t told anyone that. He hadn’t even explained it to you, why he was still around so often. That would mean he’d have to think about it himself, though—he didn’t like to do that.

He was supposed to be there tonight, and you hated that it was keeping you awake. He was a big boy, he could handle himself. Still. No matter how long you laid in your perfect bed in the dark with your eyes closed, sleep evaded you.

You huffed, tossing the blanket off of you and sitting up. Your feet hit the floor with a creak, the house’s way of constantly reminding you that it was a million years old. Nearly the second your feet touched down, you heard something else—SLAM, followed by a mean rattle. The back door, not the front, and it sounded like someone was practically trying to slam it off the hinges.

“Rafe?” You whispered to the air of your bedroom. More to yourself than anyone else. You chewed at your lip as you listened for more noises, but none came. You got up tentatively, tip-toeing out of your room and towards the kitchen.

As you turned the corner, you slammed into what felt like a brick wall—though, as the moonlight filtering in through the window illuminated his face, you realized it was only—

“Rafe!” You whisper-yelled as you ran into his chest. “Why’d you come in through the back, I thought you were—”

You shut up, frozen, as you saw the look on his face. And the fact that he hadn’t even looked at you, or moved a single inch when you bumped into him. He was like a statue, and his face was all strange. Smooth like stone, eyebrows set, with that dead fucking look he got in his eyes when he talked to his father. He never looked that way around you, and you crossed your arms, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Rafe?” Your voice was small, but seemed larger than life in the silent room, with him standing so stiffly in front of you. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You scanned him up and down, assuming he was sneaking through your kitchen and borderline catatonic because of shock, but he looked fine. His clothes were clean, though when your eyes reached his hand, you noticed the split along his knuckles, weeping blood.

“Ugh, come on.” You grabbed his hand, examining it, and he reacted a little bit—something, at least. “What the hell did you do?”

Rafe huffed a little bit, sounding like a petulant child. “Got mad.”

“Did you punch another wall?” You deadpanned, frowning up at him. He just nodded. Regularly you would’ve laughed at that, at the way he acted like a little kid when confronted with his actions, but not tonight. The air was stiller. Things felt… more serious, off in some way, you just couldn’t put your finger on how. “Come on, you gotta clean it.”

You tugged him towards the bathroom, and he didn’t fight you. When he sat down on the edge of the tub per your request, you were close to being face-to-face with him, but it only made it worse to fully see him in the fluorescence of the bathroom. Only made it more clear that something was wrong.

Your eyebrows creased as you rifled through the bathroom cabinet, the hinges squeaking something awful when you opened it, searching for the peroxide. You tried not to look worried or scared, you knew how zeroed in he could be when he thought you were pissed at him—he could practically hear if you breathed the wrong way—and you didn’t know if something was going to set him off right now.

Rafe didn’t wince as you poured the hydrogen peroxide over his split knuckle, or make the disgusted face he usually made when the wound audibly sizzled. He thought that noise was the grossest thing in the world, but he didn’t react tonight.

His skin was fiery hot, so much so that you became worried he might have a fever or something—maybe that was his problem. Your fingers dragged against his skin lightly as you wrapped the gauze pad around his knuckles and secured it in place, but he was back to being pretty much unmoving. He kinda just… stared off at the wall, jaw clenched slightly. You patted his hand gently and told him, “all done.” He nodded a little bit, but still didn’t look at you.

Your back was only turned away from him for maybe a minute, so that you could put the meager first aid kit back into the cabinet and shut it with another metallic creeeeeak.

When you turned back, your mouth popped open in shock—Rafe was crying, actually crying, eyes suddenly red-rimmed and wet as the first tear fell down his perfectly carved face. You’d never seen him cry, ever, and you froze for a half-second as you tried to think of what to do, before you ended up by his side automatically.

“Rafe?” Your hands went to him, to cup his face and his neck, but he caught you by both wrists before you managed it, and held them away from him.

“Don’t touch me.” His voice cracked a little, but he cleared his throat to hide it.

You kept fighting against his grip. “I was just touching you… c’mon, just let me—”

He only held you for a few moments before he gave up, freeing your wrists from his grasp. One hand went to his cheek, the other to the side of his neck soothingly. He squeezed his eyes shut at your touch.

“C’mon, what’s the matter?”

“I can’t.” He insisted, clenching his jaw harshly.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s me, Rafe. What am I gonna do, judge you? Just talk to me.”

“You don’t fuckin’ understand—I can’t.”

You were getting frustrated now, but you controlled your tone very, very carefully when you said: “Is it your dad, again?”

His eyes flew open, the oceanic blue already bloodshot from his tears. “No, it’s not, it’s me. It’s me, it’s always fuckin’ me, alright?”

“Is that who made you so mad you punched the wall and did this?” You demanded, gesturing to his now-bandaged hand. “Yourself?”

“Yes!” He insisted wildly. He dropped his head into his hands, smothering his own face and halfheartedly wiping his tears away.

Your hand went to the back of his head instead, rubbing your fingers through his hair and against his scalp in an attempt to comfort him.

“Rafe… I can’t help if I don’t know.” You murmured, running out of things to say. What were you supposed to do when he was like this?

“Exactly. You can’t help if you don’t know. You can’t help.” He was gritting his teeth now. “And you can’t know, ‘cause if you do, then you’ll get in trouble too, alright? And you shouldn’t—you can’t—and then you won’t fuckin’ let me come around here—and I’ll have to—argh.” Half of his words were a low snarl through his teeth, and he started breathing heavily as he got himself riled up all over again, trailing off and dropping his head back into his hands with a breathy, frustrated groan.

Things clicked into place, and you froze as they did, your mouth forming a surprised O that he luckily couldn’t see with his face in his hands. But still, you kept your hand on him, rubbing it soothingly along his shoulders and the back of your neck—you could tell it was taking everything in him not to freak out and hit something again.

“Okay… alright, okay.” You said more to yourself than to him, nodding slowly. “If I—uh—if I promise not to… ban you from my house, will you tell me?”

Rafe raised his head to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed together. “You shouldn’t fuckin’ promise that.”

“As long as you swear you’ll stop trying to break my back door off, I am promising that.”

The partial-joke fell on deaf ears, and he shook his head. The silence that stretched between you two was deafening. He brought his hands to the back of his hair and started pulling on it, digging his fingers into his scalp like he always did when he was frustrated, and another choked, angry groan left his mouth.

You took a deep breath.

“Rafe. What did you do?” Your voice was gentle, but firm.

“I shouldn’t tell you.” He said through gritted teeth, shaking his head. Tears were still falling down his cheeks, his face was twisted, but you could tell his resolve was weakening.

“You shouldn’t. But you want to.”

He sniffled. “I feel like ‘m going fuckin’ crazy.”

You rubbed his shoulder softly, the muscle under your hand taut with all the tension he’d built up. You dug your fingers in slightly in an attempt to alleviate it, but it didn’t help much.

“Peterkin…” He muttered, voice filled with something awful, like the name was a razor blade that sliced against his tongue as he said it.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. It was tragic, obviously, what John B did before he practically vanished—but you didn’t think Rafe was particularly torn up about the whole thing. The two of them hadn’t been close… but maybe you’d been missing things about him, stuff you hadn’t picked up on.

Regardless, you nodded slowly. “John B killed her, right… what about it?”

Rafe shook his head, his shoulders trembling violently, shaking with barely contained sobs. You took his face between your hands, pulling it up to get him to look at you. He does, his lips twitching into a grimace and his eyes wild as he looks at you. It’s scary, the look on his face, but you keep your composure intact.

There’s a long pause before he spits out, his voice barely a whisper. “I killed Peterkin.”

“No, you—” You shook your head. “It was John B, remember? And then he—and then he ran off. He ran away cause he was guilty… cause that’s what guilty people do.”

The whole time you spoke, Rafe shook his head, gnashing his teeth horribly. “No.” Was all he said.

“No?” You repeated.

“No.” He insisted. “I fuckin’ shot her. It was me. I killed her.”

“But… John B—”

“Can y’shut the fuck up about John B, please, jesus christ.”

“Okay, okay, my bad.”

“‘m sorry, no, ‘m sorry.” He stood up quickly, and you took a step back in surprise as he towered over you suddenly. “I didn’t mean it, alright? Okay?” He takes your face in his hands, squeezing your cheeks a little tighter than he should.

You nod. “I know. You’re just… stressed.” Stressed seemed like a laughably light word, but you were still too shocked to come up with a better one, and your words were garbled slightly from the way his hands squished your face.

“I just—” He let go of your face and brought his hand to his own, rubbing his temples and squeezing his eyes shut again. He didn’t finish his sentence.

“Did, um…” You faltered slightly as you searched for the right wording, not wanting to set him off. “Did anyone… see you? Like were there, uh… witnesses?”

Rafe’s face got all screwed up, like you’d smacked him across the face instead of asked him a question.

“Sarah. John B. My dad.”

You nodded slowly.

“But Sarah and John B are gone… and your dad’s not gonna say anything… right?” You spoke even slower, like you were trying not to spook him.

He shook his head, sniffling harshly again. “No… dad’s the one who made ‘em think John B did it, or whatever.”

“He’s not here, though. So… it’s not like anyone’s in prison for it, right? You didn’t get anyone sent to jail.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened as he held your gaze, and his eyes were nearly enough to melt you into a puddle on the floor. He looked desperate, pleading with his eyes.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone?” He asked. He sounded meek.

You took a deep breath, teeth digging into your lip before you finally said:

“Go to bed.”

“What, I—”

“Go to bed.”

Rafe stood there, looking down at you, for another few moments. Slowly, the crease between his eyebrows smoothed out, and he released a teensy-tiny bit of tension from his jaw for the first time since he’d got there. Wordlessly, he nodded once before he brushed past you and out of the bathroom. You heard the floorboards of your bedroom groan, and movement on the bed, before it went quiet.

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, and your face was like stone. You gripped both sides of the sink as you stared at your reflection, and you made your peace with what was happening. You wanted him here. You weren’t going to kick him out. It was his dad’s fault he was this way. He could get better. He needed you. You weren’t going to send him to jail. You couldn’t.

You were going to be complicit in a murder cover up for him.

With one slow breath in through your nose, out through your mouth—and then another, and then another, and then one more—you nodded slightly and left the bathroom, abandoning the blood dripping down the side of the bathtub and the floor as an issue for tomorrow morning.

Tonight, you went back to your room. Rafe laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, already shirtless and with one arm tucked behind his head and his bandaged hand resting on his abs. You lingered in the doorway for a moment too long, admiring the way he always managed to look like a statue, like he had been perfectly carved from marble. He raised his head to look at you, and watched you intensely as you climbed into bed next to him.

He tensed a little bit when you got under the covers, but didn’t move—still unsure. To put him at ease, you pressed up against him, shivering slightly as his fiery hot skin met yours. He let out a sigh, and relaxed a little bit more into you.

The two of you laid in silence for a while, and though your brain was fuzzy from losing hours of sleep as it only got later, you weren’t falling asleep. Neither was he.

You brought a hand up to card through his hair, and he leaned into your touch as it ran through his straw-blonde locks.

You tentatively lowered your mouth to his ear as you mumbled: “Come back. Stay here a while, hm?”

Rafe shivered a little bit at your breath against his ear, but he nodded.

You were going to be complicit in a murder cover up for him.

And you didn’t care. Rafe drifted off into some troubled semblance of sleep as he relaxed under your hand, which still played with his hair. You stayed up a while longer, alternating between staring at the wall, the ceiling, and Rafe’s face, the planes of which were smooth and peaceful for the first time all night. You thought of the cops, and Ward, and John B, and what would happen to Rafe if anyone found out.

They wouldn’t find out.

Rafe would keep on acting like you were better than him, like you were the hearth he curled up at when it was cold, and the antiseptic on his cuts—but you weren’t any better than him. You were just as bad. You knew it. You wondered if he knew it, too.

You were going to be complicit in a murder cover up for him.

You drifted off to sleep with your nose pressed in his hair, breathing in the smell of him.

And you didn’t care.

[imrkos]

Who Tf Did I Date? (R.C.) PT 2 ONESHOT.

in which after your thread of tweets goes viral, many people can’t help but root for Rafe and his efforts on getting you back, you on the other hand aren’t budging.

WARNINGs nothing but crack and mature language + let me know if I missed anything!

PAIRING Rafe Cameron x Fem Reader!Youtuber

NOTE : this is part two of the following: PART ONE. Thank you for your support on this, I didn't think it'd do good lol, I actually really love this idea and have so many idea for this >_< again thank you so much for enjoying!

MY MASTERLIST!

— @marleymarleymarleymarley @ursogorgeous13 @highladyofhogwarts @amterasuu @vwosnz —

[lynnieverse]

redamancy // part 6

silly!reader x bsf!rafe cameron

smau

warnings: language, slightly suggestive

a/n: thank you so much for reading this! Idk whether I should continue or not...you guys let me know if you want more of this story! Also, give some other smau ideas!!!

If you liked this, check out my fic undertow! ILY <3

taglist: @drewstarkeyswife0 @cutkoskysnix1 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starsval @flvredcas @annaskawwww @superswaggycooch @drewstarkeyzwhore @ethanthequeefqueen @luckyyfawn @thesunflowersociety