#and my next child cameron

[zyafics]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

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[whytheylosttheirminds]

isn't she lovely?

your ex-boyfriend, crimeboss!Rafe wanted nothing to do with the daughter you'd made together, until he held her for the first time...

blurb, wc 626

content: pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of dark past, angst

ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ

You didn’t want to tell him. 

You thought of every reason not to - the con side of your pro/con list filling an entire notebook. The one and only pro of telling him was this: if you didn’t tell him, and he somehow found out anyway, he’d make your life hell. 

At least if he knew, you knew that he knew. So against the better judgement screaming in your head, you went to Tannyhill one day, sat on his bed and pulled out the positive pregnancy test.

That was nine months ago, and aside from a note from his sleezy lawyer making it clear that Rafe was not going to be held financially responsible, you hadn’t heard anything from the father of your child. You had a friend who worked at the airstrip who kept you informed of his coming and going, and you always wondered if one day that private jet would take off with him in it and never return. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope it’d do just that. 

According to your friend, he was in Bangkok the night you went into labor. After fourteen hours of the deepest, lonliest pain you had ever experienced, the doctor placed your screaming baby girl on your chest. You cried with her, shushing her, promising her it’s just you and me, kid. We’re gonna be okay.

No text from your friend usually meant the Cameron jet hadn’t returned yet, but you still insisted on keeping your baby girl in the hospital room with you instead of letting them take her to the nursery. Rafe Cameron was the most unpredictable person you ever met, and though he never let you know exactly what it was he did, you knew he was dangerous. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to get what he wanted. You weren’t letting your baby girl out of your sight.

It took every ounce of strength you had to fight off sleep, despite the nurse’s insistence that you needed to rest. She couldn’t possibly understand, you hadn’t had a moment of peace since that man entered your life, and you probably never would again. 

It was just five minutes, you were only going to close your eyes for five minutes. But when you woke an hour later, the silhouette of a man towering in the corner of the room made you shoot straight up in terror. You were about to scream, but before you could, he turned quickly towards you with his finger to his lip, revealing your sleeping daughter in his arms.

“Rafe,” you whispered, petrified. “I didn’t think you were…I mean I would’ve…”

“It’s okay,” he whispered back, gently sitting in the chair next to your bed, careful not to stir the tiny infant in his arms. “You can go back to sleep, I’ve got her.”

Just as you were about to protest, your daughter stirred, squawking as though she was about to cry. Instead, her little hand reached out of her swaddle and wrapped around Rafe’s forefinger. You waited with baited breath to see how he’d respond. 

For just a moment, his eyes widened, and his large broad shoulders softened, and the corner of his lips twitched ever-so-slightly. And then suddenly he was handing her to you, standing abruptly from his chair. She wailed as he stormed toward the door.

“That’s it?” You called to him over her cries, confused at the sudden shift in his mannerisms.

“I have to take care of some…things,” he turned to look at his daughter in your arms, her little fingers reaching for something to hold onto. “I’ll be back.”

You didn’t know it then, but that was the moment that your daughter, whom you’d gotten to hold for only a handful of hours, became his.

ִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑִ ۫ ˑ ֗ ִ ˑ ּ 𖥔 𓄼 ࣪⠀ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ۪ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ

a/n: just a little drabble I wrote over a year ago when I was trying to get my footing as a fic writer. part of my one year cele!

[cherrygirlfriend]

─ FIRST LOVE THEORY ♥︎

...or rafe reuniting with his ex-wife.

♥︎ pairing .ᐟ ex-husband!rafe x married!reader

♥︎ summary .ᐟ reader goes over to her ex-husband's house when she finds out he introduced their son to his new girlfriend. rafe has a better idea for what they could do instead of arguing.

♥︎ warnings/tags .ᐟ smut! MDNI. cheating, unprotected piv, breeding kink. wc: 2.7k

♥︎ author's note .ᐟ first fic on my 3k celebration!!! i hope you guys like it <3 i have to wake up in six hours… 😭

3K MASTERLIST ♡ RAFE MASTERLIST

there's a theory that claims that men never get over their first love; that they're always going to be thinking about her, dream of her, mumbling her name in their sleep...

and if you wanted to prove said theory wrong, rafe cameron was the wrong person to go to; no matter what the occasion was, he would abandon it all for her if she called; anything for his first love.

you had been dating rafe since sophomore year of high school, starting to go out just days after you moved to the island. your family lived in a small, run-down house on the so-dubbed poor side of the island. even if your family couldn't afford much, they put all the money they had just so you could attend kildare academy.

when you started dating and he finally introduced you to his friends, you could see it in the eyes of every one of rafe's friends; they all looked down on you simply because you didn't come from money. one time while you'd been at a party rafe was hosting, you could hear his friends whisper about you, talking shit. saying how he was probably just dating you because you let him fuck you whenever, or how he pitied you.

that was the first time you two broke up; and a few days after, rafe came knocking at your door with a bouquet of flowers and a well-practiced apology prepared.

after that? you two pretty much became the most notorious on-and-off couple on the whole island. it was like every other week, you and rafe broke up, got back together, and broke up again. one moment, you'd be all over each other; the next moment, you were all over each other in a completely different way. the problem was, as you got older, your situation stayed the same.

you parked your car in front of the house rafe was living in; the bastard had gone and introduced the woman he was dating to your son without asking you, without even saying a word. you slammed your car door closed, your heeled knee-high boots clacking against the concrete.

"rafe!" you shouted, banging the side of your fist against the wooden door, the wreath hung up on the door shaking with the force of your punches "rafe fucking cameron, i need to talk to you!"

rafe pulled opened the door, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, "what the hell do you want now? child support not come through?" the man scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"why the fuck did you introduce some bitch to leo without mentioning it to me?" you pushed him, your ex-husband stumbling backwards, "do you have no common sense? i told you, i don't want you to introduce any of your sluts to him before asking me first."

"you introduced your damn boyfriend to him when i told you not to!"

"rafe, i've told you a million times, will is not my boyfriend; we've been married for a year." you let out an annoyed scoff, "and that's completely different. you told me not to introduce him to a guy i had been with for a year and was getting engaged to, meanwhile i'm telling you not to introduce him to your third girlfriend of the month."

"can you shut the hell up? i'm not some fucking town bicycle." you followed rafe into the living room, watching as your ex-husband poured whiskey into a glass. you watch as he downs the glass, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, continuing to pour more amber liquid into the glass, turning to you, "i'll have you know, sofia and i have been exclusive for three months now."

"well, that's basically as good as marriage when it comes to you." you let out a small scoff, "i don't want you to introduce our son to anyone i don't know, rafe." you grabbed the glass of whiskey from him, downing the liquid, burning as it went down your throat. you slammed the glass onto the tray, pointing a manicured nail at him, your engagement ring and wedding band glimmering under the light. "don't fuck with me. not when it comes to him."

"you're so fuckin' selfish." rafe scoffs, throwing his hands in the air "he's my son too, you have no right to tell me what i can and can't do!"

"i've got a custody agreement that says i do." you narrow your eyes, poking him in the chest, "if you do shit like that again, i'm calling my lawyer."

"you've gotta be kidding me." rafe shook his head in disbelief, a bitter laugh leaving his lips as he brought his face closer to yours, gritting his teeth, "you're gonna try and change our custody agreement because of this? there's no way you're that much of a vindictive bitch."

"you really must not know me," you scoff as you look up at him, your eyes narrowed and your voice low, "because if you did, you'd know that that's exactly how much of a vindictive bitch i am." you stared into each other's eyes, your heavy breaths mingling together. rafe's jaw was clenched, his steely eyes focused on nothing but you.

his lips crashed against yours.

his hands were in your hair, tangled in the strands, tugging on them only to bring you closer to him; his lips were devouring you, a clash of lips, teeth, tongue; and even though you tried to pull away at first, it was like every time he got his hands on you, you melted. every time rafe kissed you, it felt like you were clay and he was molding you into yourself.

your back hit the solid wall behind you, and rafe let out a slight groan when his hands wrapped around under your thighs, and you hopped into his arms, your hands around the back of his neck as rafe held you against the wall. his hands trailed up to cup your ass, the hem of your skirt now all bunched up, your ex gripping the fat of your ass.

rafe carried you into the bedroom you used to share with him like you weighed nothing, dumping you onto the bed and causing your body to bounce on it slightly. grinning up at him, you took your dress off, the blonde looking at your body up and down, cocking his head to the side.

"you wore red?" rafe tsked, referring to the lingerie set you were wearing, a wine-red one, a color you knew rafe loved on you, having ruined many a set while you were together, "you should've just said you wanted to fuck."

you bit your lip when rafe finally took off his shirt, revealing a set of abs you'd caressed, kissed, licked, more times that you could count. his long fingers made work of his belt buckle, swiftly pulling his belt off. he snapped it once before throwing it to the side.

his pants were off, the outline of rafe's hard cock visible through his white calvin kleins. you rubbed your legs together, your nipples hard and straining against your bra. "you gonna come here, or do i need to come and getcha?"

rafe shook his head with a chuckle, and at his words, his body was on yours, grinding against you. a gasp left your lips as you felt his erection against your clothed cunt, and you could feel your arousal starting to form a wet patch in your lacy panties. his lips trailed down your jawline as his hands trailed down the strap of your bra, the man letting out a chuckle against your skin, the words he mumbled against your neck causing vibrations to run down your spine. "let's get this pesky thing off, huh?"

you arched your back off the bed, and rafe's long fingers darted to the clasp of your bra, swiftly unclasping it and throwing it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. within seconds, his lips were on your nipple, licking on the hard bud before his lips wrapped around it, sucking on it in a way that made you to arch into his touch, gasps of pure pleasure leaving your lips.

one of his hands slid into the waistband of your panties, bringing hid middle finger to your clit and pressing on it, making you mewl as your hand found his hair, tugging on it slightly. rafe groaned against your nipple, causing a wave of shivers to run down your spine as his finger lazily rolled around your clit.

"please..." you whined, and rafe let out a small chuckle against your nipple before releasing it with a pop!

his lips started to trail down your body, pressing kisses from between your breasts, down your belly button, continuing all the way until his lips made contact with the waistband of your panties.

"please what?" rafe asked as he started to press kisses on your panty-covered pussy, getting closer and closer to the wet little patch that was now decorating them.

"take them off..." you mewled, your hands grasping the sheets underneath you. rafe pressed a small kiss right over your clit, accompanying it with a teasing lick, before his long fingers finally tightened around the waistband of your panties.

"look at that." rafe huffed in a way that resembled a laugh, and as you looked down, you could see a large patch on the inside of your panties. you scrunched up your nose and looked away, making him let out another chuckle as you hid your face in your hands, "you're so cute when you're embarrassed, baby..." he cooed mockingly, throwing your panties to the side. "there's nothing to be embarrassed about. we both know you get soaked within seconds when it comes to me."

rafe licked a stripe up your slit, making sure to slightly suckle on your clit, a moan leaving your lips, your back arching off the bed you used to share with him. he moved himself up, until his face was over yours. when rafe placed a small, dazing kiss on your lips, you licked your lips, tasting yourself; he always loved doing that; always loved to make it known that only he could have such an effect on you.

the blonde grinned as he tugged his boxers down, gripping the shaft and moving his cock so the tip of it was pressing against your clit, drawing tiiiiny circles of it as if it was another 'funny' game he liked to play with you.

"come on...!" you whined, smacking his shoulders, "i need you..."

"what's wrong, sweetie?" rafe cooed mockingly, cocking his head to the side and narrowing his eyes, "your husband not enough for you?"

your eyes flit to the engagement ring and the wedding band on your ring finger, but the feeling of rafe's cock drawing circles on your needy, throbbing clit, before they looked back into his blue eyes that were mostly overtaken by the black of his pupil.

"please..." you looked at him through your lashes, pouting at rafe. he let out a slight chuckle, moving his shaft down to your entrance, "this what you want?" he asked, pressing a peck on your lips that felt like he was ridiculing you; but your body didn't care; all it cared about was having him inside of it. now.

"yes..." you whispered, "please..."

you felt the mushroom tip of rafe's cock finally enter into you, and even that was enough for a small smile to twitch up your lips; you knew it was pathetic, you knew that this wasn't something you should be doing but "aaaaaaahhhh-" as he sunk his cock deeper into you, you couldn't resist.

and before you were prepared for it, rafe had forced himself all the way into you, the tip of his cock hitting the sweet spot inside of you as you gasped for air, pressing your eyes closed in a way that brought tears to your eyes.

"tell me who you belong to..." he growled, his lips pressed against your neck as he pulled his cock almost entirely out of you, only leaving a tiny bit of it at your entrance.

"rafe..."

"tell me." rafe grabbed your thigh, hoisting your leg up onto his shoulder so he could get even deeper inside of you, "tell me, who you belong to."

"i..." you whisper, your eyes fluttering open, eyelashes wet with tears, "i belong to you, rafe..."

and as he pistoned his cock into you, you couldn't help but throw your head back, your eyes closed, the tears stuck to your lashes ruining your eye makeup.

when rafe's hand slowly made it's way to your pussy, you could tell that he was close; your ex was a sucker for having you both come at the same time. rafe started drawing lazy circles on your clit as he continued to plunge his cock in and out of you, hitting you right where you needed him, and that combined with his thumb on your clit was making the pressure in your abdomen grow, and grow, and grow...

"i'm gonna fuck another baby into you..." rafe mumbled into your ear, "always wanted a big family..." his thrusts grew quicker to the point that you were having a difficult time keeping up with him, "gonna give you a second baby..." his thumb's pace on your clit quickened, "tell me you want it... c'mon, baby..."

your brain wanted to tell him no, but it was as if your heart and your body were in control, every inch of them screaming out the answer that left your lips.

"yes!" you screamed out, "yes, rafe, yes!"

you could feel your cunt clenching around him, moaning out rafe's name as your orgasm washed over you, every part of your body blissed out, until a sense of clarity hit you, and although you tried to shove rafe off you, you couldn't do so, feeling as warm ropes of his thick cum started painting the walls of your slick cunt white.

as rafe got down off his high, he let out a small chuckle as he pulled his cock out of you, the slightly pinkening inches of him soaked in a white mixture of you and him, only for him to shove the cum that was dripping out of you back into you, making you let out another gasp.

rafe laughed as he pulled his fingers out of your hole, bringing them to your mouth. "taste." and you knew; it wasn't a request, it was a command. and so you did.

some moments went by and you were nuzzled in rafe's arms, the both of you content and satisfied as you laid under the blankets, rafe smelling the raspberry-scented shampoo you always wore with a smile on his face; he hoped that your scent would linger; your shampoo, body wash, perfume; he hoped it'd all just... be there, in his bedsheets, forever.

you took the picture frame off the nightstand, and you saw exactly what you were expecting; a picture of you and rafe kissing only moments after you said i do; rafe in his ridiculously expensive tuxedo and you in your custom vera wang wedding dress, your ex-husband having told you that you didn't only deserve the best; you needed it. as you traced the hem of your wedding dress, rafe let out a chuckle, and you couldn't help but turn to him with your brows furrowed, "what?"

"it's just..." rafe brought his hand to rest over yours, his finger right where yours was, trailing your hem, "this kind of reminds me of how i bunched up this dress around your waist a little bit before the wedding..." his icy blue eyes turned to you, "and how i did the same with your most recent wedding dress, and fucked you. what was it you wore to your wedding with will?" he pretended to ponder, "valentino?"

you looked up at him your eyes narrowing, "you can never tell him this happened."

"don't worry, baby." rafe's hand detached from the frame as he cooed mockingly, going to trace your cheekbone with his long, ringed fingers, "i'm sure he can figure it out when your baby ends up looking nothing like him."

♥︎ author's note .ᐟ thinking of writing a fic about rafe and reader on her wedding day... lmk if you want that.

[rafesangelita]

♡ not only is rafe cameron your mortal enemy, but he’s also, unknowingly, your nsfw tumblr mutual??

warnings: mean!rafe, enemies to ???, sexting, dirty talk, sending and receiving of nudes, mentions of death, very light angst, mentions of social status, insults used as flirting loll, small time skip

a/n: this is sorta canon, only in the sense that ward is dead and rose is off somewhere with wheezie. i might just make this a mini series, let me know what you think <3 part two is out now!!

links: next | mini series masterlist

wc: 1.8k

rafe hated you.

maybe not all of you, because in his eyes, along with everyone else’s.. you were hot as shit. there was no denying that. your bitchy attitude not only amused rafe more than half the time, but it turned him on too. he’d watch you from a distance as you cleared the couch for you and your friends to sit on with a single glance, everyone making way for you like you were some kind of princess. which you clearly were, he just couldn’t understand why.

why did you turn him on so much? his best bet was because while everyone bent to his will, he knew that you’d never even spare him the time of day, and if you did it was because he had to work for every single ounce of your attention. no one else on this island would ever make him do that, no one on this island wouldn’t dare challenge him, but you? he’d take your bossiness and catty remarks any day.

the real question is; why did he hate you at the same time?

for starters; you had your family. your picture perfect mommy and daddy were plastered on every single newspaper in both the island and the mainland, the two of them getting praised for their line of successful businesses and work ambition. you were the only child, which was something rafe fantasized about being when his dad was still here. it irritated him that you had all of the attention and recognition that he never had. he felt even worse about it because unlike him, you didn’t even have to do anything in order to get praise and appreciation from your parents. you just got it for simply existing.

rafe on the other hand was nothing but a disappointment to ward when he went above and beyond just to get nothing, not even a single ‘i’m proud of you, son.’ before his dad up and died. rafe was already fueled by rage, but now? now that he had an entire island looking at down on him everywhere he went with false pity? he was out for blood. getting in meaningless fights, purposely doing stupid things that he knew he’d get hurt doing just to feel something.

he grew reckless and raised hell in every establishment and party he attended, figuring there was no use in keeping the family name squeaky clean with a good reputation when he technically didn’t have any family anymore. rose took wheezie and dipped as soon as rafe got tanneyhill and his hefty inheritance, and sarah decided to leave the island altogether and live her own life in god knows where.

everyone left him.

rafe was simply just a bystander now, an observer, and you had it all. the popularity, the socialite status, the family, the friends, the list could go on. it wasn’t long before he had to find some kind of outlet; something where he could express things and share thoughts to an audience that didn’t know him.. little did he know, you had also seeked out the same thing.

your distaste for rafe came about once you heard he was going around the island calling you a ‘spoiled little brat’ and a ‘prissy bitch’ whenever your name came up in conversations. obviously, what he said was true, but who was he to speak about you? he didn’t even know you. “call me a bitch to my face next time, ‘cameron. i hate pussies.” you had went up to him in the midst of him having a conversation with topper, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the way your hips swayed when you walked away, your mini dress paired with those heels of yours had him tonguing the inside of his cheek.

“did she just bitch you out, bro?” topper looked genuinely shocked as rafe laughed. “nah, she’s flirting.” from then on, you two would shamelessly stare at each other from across the room, keeping your eyes locked on one another even while you had people at your side who were more than interested in taking you home. rafe would pass by, muttering an insult just loud enough for you to hear and you’d laugh, dismissing him as if he was nothing but a fly on the wall.

you’d be lying if you said the so called ‘princess’ treatment didn’t get old after a while. rafe was the only person who seemingly didn’t care about your feelings. and you liked it. naturally, you craved something different, something that no one out here in the real world had the guts to do— degrade you and make you feel small. like you were nothing. turning to the only thing you could in order to keep your anonymity, you made a tumblr blog, easily racking up followers by posting your deepest and darkest desires and fantasies.

not even your best friends knew this side of you. you could be as depraved as you wanted to be on the app, and even if the whole point in you making your blog was to be anonymous, you still posted your own photos on there. of course your face wouldn’t be showing in any of them, but reading the comments as they flooded in filled the void you didn’t realize was there to begin with. a particular user, however, always left comments on your posts that had your thighs rubbing together.

it wasn’t long before you decided to check out his account, deciding to follow him back once you read through some of his posts. truthfully, you were the only girl he followed on the platform, he couldn’t help but feel like a lot of other accounts were ran by robots. you actually interacted with people on your blog, you had a personality. when he got the notification that you followed him back, he wasted no time in sending you a message.

[10:01 PM] countryclub: wsp

[10:15 PM] brattydiaries: ew.

[10:16 PM] countryclub: ???

[10:16 PM] countryclub: i just want to talk to you.

[10:25 PM] brattydiaries: yeah i can see that lol

[10:26 PM] brattydiaries: ‘wsp’ is so icky though. it kinda gives me high schooler vibes

‘high schooler vibes’ rafe snorted when he read your reply, internally cringing as he read back his previous message. you had a point.

[10:28 PM] countryclub: can i start over?

[10:30 PM] brattydiaries: can you?

[10:31 PM] countryclub: may i?

you smiled when he corrected himself.

[10:33 PM] brattydiaries: ugh i guess..

[10:38 PM] countryclub: 1 attachment

[10:38 PM] countryclub: hey i cum to your pictures all the time. here’s a picture of my cock and the mess you made me make.

usually you’d immediately block when an unsolicited dick pic found its way to your dm’s, but this one was unlike any others you’ve received.

your jaw was on the floor.

this wasn’t the ordinary ‘no-effort’ kind of picture. he wasn’t obnoxiously holding his length as if he was presenting it to you, instead he had his fist wrapped around the base, his aching tip standing on its own as his cum adorned his abs. his skin was also glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, your chest blooming with pride as you realized just how much your blog riled him up. he was very well groomed, the underside of his cock slick with the aftermath of your most recent photos.

this was just different. you felt your bitchy resolve crumbling down with every second you stared at the details, the sight of the veins in his arms and hands had you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, your brain going blank as you tried to come up with a response.

[10:50 PM] countryclub: you done being a bitch and acting like i’m not good enough to talk to you? or do i have to send you more pictures of what you do to me?

yeah. you were totally fucked.

from that point forward, you two sexted day and night, your phone basically living in your hands as you went about your everyday life. soon, all of your posts became about him, both you and rafe seemingly dancing circles around each other. while you two lived for pissing each other off and did everything to be a nuisance to one another in real life, you were actually, literally getting each other off behind the screen.

you were surprising him with photos throughout the day, his dirty talk making you fall asleep with a sticky mess between your thighs. it was only a matter of time before he started wanting to hear your voice, even going as far as asking for your number so you could call and actually talk to one another. of course, you were hesitant, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish to hear those filthy things he says in your messages in your ears instead.

so you agreed. you gave him your number and waited for him to call.. and nothing. for the first time in your life, you waited for a phone call from a man, and he never delivered. your ego was in shambles. even after you came up with excuses as to why he didn’t call, none of them made sense. the next day you woke up to no new messages, your heart clenching in your chest when you went to his profile and saw that he deleted all of his posts.

what the fuck?

deciding to stay off of the app for the time being, you hated how a few months of sexting made you think about him every chance you got.

you didn’t even know his name for crying out loud!

if your friends noticed something off about your attitude, they didn’t point it out. even rafe was more irritable, both of you getting in full on arguments if you two spent too much time together in a social setting. your comebacks would have him on the verge of dragging you out of the room by your hair, wishing so bad that he could just put you in your place. it wasn’t until you got home from another one of topper’s parties that your phone lit up with a message.

from him.

[1:00 AM] countryclub: hey

you scoffed. ‘hey’ that was all that he could say? after all of the time that passed, he could only spare you one fucking word? you were about to block him before you got another notification.

[1:07 AM] countryclub: i’m really sorry for ghosting you, alright? i just freaked out.

[1:09 AM] brattydiaries: you sent me a picture of your dick when we first messaged each other and you’re barely freaking out now? don’t you think we’re far past that point already?

[1:12 AM] countryclub: we definitely are, it’s just when you sent me your number, my heart dropped to my ass.

[1:12 AM] brattydiaries: you asked for it and i gave it to you. i’m confused rn.

[1:14 AM] countryclub: no it isn’t that

[1:15 AM] brattydiaries: then what the fuck is it?

[1:19 AM] countryclub: we have the same area code.

[itneverendshere]

drunk words sober thoughts - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

Here you were, in the middle of Figure Eight at four in the goddamn morning, dragging your six-foot-something, entirely-too-drunk boyfriend away from a kook party you didn’t even want to go to in the first place.

He was stupidly wasted, stumbling along like his legs had forgotten how to work, slurring every other word like his tongue was three sizes too big.

“Baaaaaby,” Rafe sloppily enunciated, breath against your neck as he practically draped himself over you, "You’re so fuckin’—shit—so fuckin’ hot, like—like the hottest thing I ever seen in my life—swear t’god, baby,—holy shit—” His hands groped at your waist, sliding down to your ass as he tried to pull you closer, touching you like it was his god-given right—which in his mind, it probably was.

You smacked his hand away, though you couldn't help but feel a little fond—just a little.  "Touch my ass one more time before we get home and I’m gonna leave you in a ditch."

He gasped, as if you just threatened to burn his whole family fortune to the ground. "You wouldn’t."

You shoved him off with an annoyed huff. “I would.”

“But—”

“Shush.”

He let out a dramatic groan but complied, mostly because he was too drunk to fight back. You had managed to yank him out of the house, away from all the Kooks he swore he didn’t fuck with anymore, away from the shots he was knocking back like water, and out onto the empty street.

Kelce was still inside, which meant you had no ride home, and the only other person who offered—a random-ass Kook girl—had given you a look you did not appreciate. You’d rather drag Rafe’s dumb ass across the island than owe one of those trust-fund bitches a favor.

Rafe pouted like a damn child but, miraculously, mostly kept his hands to himself as you dragged him down the street. The man was dead weight who kept leaning into you, his heavy, muscled body pressing into your side.

"Can you walk?" You huffed, struggling under his weight.

"M’walking," he spluttered, sounding genuinely offended.

"You're stumbling like a newborn giraffe.”

Rafe chuckled, rubbing his face against your shoulder. "Love when you’re mean t’me”

You rolled your eyes. "Of course you do, you freak."

The party had been fun—for exactly twenty minutes. Then Rafe, despite all his I swear, baby, I’ll behave promises, had proceeded to down shots like he was getting paid for it. 

He had stuck to your side, arm around you, lips constantly pressing against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. See, baby? he’d murmured against your skin. M’not even that drunk. 

Clingy drunk didn’t even begin to describe him.

Rafe had spent the next two hours attached to you, breath alcohol-laced against your ear as he whispered absolute nonsense. He was insatiable—every time you turned around, he was either kissing you, grinding against you, or telling everyone who would listen that you were his girl, the best girl, the only girl that mattered.

His hands had wandered, spanking your ass, slipping beneath the hem of your dress like he had no concept of public decency.

He was still stupidly wasted.

Rafe stumbled, nearly taking you down with him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I feel—”

You turned your head just in time to see his face twist in discomfort, his body swaying, our stomach dropped. "No, you do not—Rafe Cameron, don’t you dare,” you snapped, gripping his shirt to keep him upright.

He groaned, clutching his stomach. “Think—think 'm gonna be sick...”

“The fuck you are,” you shot back, already tugging him down the road. “You are not throwing up out here. I am not letting you pass out on the goddamn street, and I definitely can’t carry your heavy ass, so get it together.”

He whined, actually fucking whined, like a kid being denied candy at the store. “But I feel—”

“Walk.”

Rafe grumbled something but miraculously kept moving, though he nearly toppled both of you when he tried to nuzzle into your neck again. “Mmm. Love you,” he murmured, pressing wet, sloppy kisses to your jaw, your ear, any part of you he could reach. “Love ya s’much.”

You cracked—just a little—because, drunk or not, Rafe was always a touchy, clingy mess when it came to you. You sighed, as you led him down the dark road, trying to act annoyed but feeling that mushy tug in your chest “I know.”

"S—saaay it back.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll say it when you’re not about to puke on my shoes.”

A dramatic gasp. “"You—you don’t love me?"

“Dude.”

"Say it baaaack."

"Rafe."

He pouted, leaning his full weight into you again, and you swore you were about to just let his ass collapse on the pavement.

"You’re sooo pretty," he mumbled, voice all dreamy. "So fuckin’ pretty. Prettiest—prettiest girl I ever seen... swear t’god, baby... like an angel or some shit...”

You sighed, readjusting your grip on his waist. "You’re so fucking annoying."

Rafe slurred some more against your neck, his hot breath making you physically recoil. He whuffed, tilting his head dramatically. "Jus' wanna kiss’ya,”

"You’re disgusting."

"’M sexy."

"You reek of tequila."

"B-but— I love you,” he insisted, voice all dramatic, he had just made some groundbreaking realization. His arm tightened around your shoulders, nearly choking you as he clung to you like a goddamn koala. “Tink I might die if you ever leave me.”

 “If you don’t move your ass, I’m gonna leave you—right here.”

You somehow made it another few blocks before he stopped dead in his tracks, groaning as he bent over. Your stomach twisted in anticipation, but before you could yell at him, he straightened back up, blinking at you. “Shit.”

You stared at him, waiting. “What.”

“M’m kinda fucked up.”

“No shit, dumbass.”

He blinked again, then broke into a lazy, drunken grin.

You shook your head, suppressing a smile. “I’m dragging your stupid ass home.” He hummed, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You sighed, finally resigning yourself to the fact that you’d be stuck dealing with his drunk ass all night. “Love you too. Now move.”

He groaned again, slumping further into you. "Wanna hold you." His lips brushed your jaw, his kisses hot, sloppy, desperate. "Baby, just lemme—"

You shoved his face away, trying not to laugh at how absolutely ridiculous he was. "Not while you're about to vomit on me, you fucking menace."

He pouted, eyes all big and glassy like some lovesick golden retriever. "Prettiest girl in the world."

You sighed, trying to resist the affection. "I know."

"S-say it backkk. Tell me ’m your prettiest boy."

You snorted, knowing you were gonna use this shit against him in the morning, “Get off of me, you giant fucking toddler.”

"Never."

Before you could shove him away again, Rafe’s turned into the hulk—pressing your back was against the nearest car.

“What the fuck—"

"Hi," he blinked down at you while his hands splayed against the cool metal behind you, trapping you between the car and him.

You squirmed, trying to duck under his arms, but Rafe just grinned, leaning in until his lips were brushing your ear. "Where d’ya think you’re goin’?"

"Home," you huffed, shoving at his chest. "Without getting humped to death by my drunk boyfriend."

"But I need youuuu," he groaned, voice all wrecked. "Fuck, baby, you don’t get it. I’ve been thinkin’ bout you all fucking night, and you—" he pressed his hips against yours, making you gasp—"you feel me?"

You did, hating how fast heat crawled up your spine, how your body responded to him instantly despite how fucking annoying he was being.

"Rafe," you warned.

"Baby," he mocked, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your throat. “Lemme have this,” His voice was thick, his hands skimming to your waist, gripping your hips, tugging you closer despite how little space was between you already.

“You’re not fucking me here.”

Rafe just grinned. "No?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw.  His lips trailed lower, sucking at your pulse, making you shiver.  “Can't even fuckin’ think s-straight."

“You can’t think straight because you’re hammered."

"Nah," he murmured, "M’ drunk on you."

You groaned. "You're so fucking corny, I swear to—"

Rafe cut you off with a kiss.

Sloppy, deep, needy.

His hands were groping your cheeks so tight you knew you’d feel it in the morning. His tongue licked into your mouth as he shamelessly moaned against your lips, grinding into you like a bitch in heat.

"You taste so fucking good," he moved  to your neck again, sucking at the skin, "Gonna wake up tastin' you, fuck—"

"Rafe—"

"Bet you’re soaked for me right now," he groaned, hand gripping your jaw, tilting your head back so he could kiss down your throat.

Your entire body burned. "Oh my fucking god, Rafe—"

"I love you," he muttered into your skin. "Love this fucking body. Love the way you feel, the way you—"

And then, his whole body tensed.

"Baby—" his face twisted in discomfort. "Oh fuck."

Your stomach dropped. "No. No, no, no. Do not—"

“Think 'm gonna be sick,” he swayed on his feet.

You grabbed his shirt with both hands, yanking him upright with all your strength. "You are not about to throw up after whispering the nastiest shit into my neck like five seconds ago—"

He gripped your arms, blinking at you all slow and dazed. "’M serious, babe, shit’s—not good—"

"So help me god."

Rafe took a few stumbly steps away from you, suddenly lurching forward with a groan. His body bent before you could grab him again, he was kneeling on the ground, his hands clutching his stomach as he made a noise that made you wince.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” you muttered, running a hand over your face in exasperation. This was not how you planned to spend the rest of your night. 

Rafe's voice was hoarse as he sat back on his heels, eyes red-rimmed. “I didn’t mean—didn’t mean to—"

“I know. You’re just—" You paused, looking down at him, the man who couldn’t even sit up straight. “You’re an idiot.”

He grinned, his eyes hazy, clearly missing the sarcasm. “But I’m your idiot,” he slurred, and it was hard not to feel the affection despite how much of a pain in the ass he was being.

"Yeah, you are," you said, finally kneeling down beside him.

Rafe let out a half-giggled, half-groan sound, leaning into you as he tried to catch his breath. "Can we jus’ go h-home? Swear, never drinkin’ again. M’ sorry…”

You knew that was a lie, but you also knew he was genuinely miserable right now.

You sighed, wiping a hand down your face as you helped Rafe to his feet. He wobbled, gripping your shoulders. His face buried in the crook of your neck. “Y’so good t’me,” he mumbled, his breath hot and sticky against your skin.

“You say that now,” you muttered, adjusting your grip on his waist as you continued dragging him down the empty street. “Wait till you wake up tomorrow and realize I recorded half the shit you said tonight.”

Rafe made an exaggerated whimpering noise. “Baby, nooo.”

You snorted. “Baby, yes.”

Every other step, he either tripped over his own feet or stopped dead in his tracks to dramatically profess his love for you. By the time you finally made it to his driveway, your arms ached from holding him up,.

You shoved the front door open and all but dragged Rafe inside. The house was dark and quiet, Ward was out of town, and Rose was probably dead asleep, thank god. The last thing you needed was a lecture from her about how “boys will be boys” while Rafe was in the middle of trying to hump your leg like a golden retriever.

You maneuvered him toward the stairs, dreading the climb. “Up we go.”

Rafe blinked at you like you just asked him to solve a math equation. “That’s—” he tilted his head, “—so many stairs.”

You exhaled sharply. “You are a six-foot-something, gym-rat motherfucker. Get your ass up the stairs before I leave you here.”

He pouted but complied, albeit slowly. You stayed behind him, hands on his back to make sure he didn’t topple over and eat shit halfway up. He wobbled a few times, but eventually, you managed to get him into his bedroom and onto the bed with an unceremonious plop.

Rafe rolled onto his stomach, face buried in the pillow. “Dying.”

“You’re not dying,” you said flatly, grabbing a water bottle from his nightstand and uncapping it. “Drink.”

He peeked up at you with bleary eyes. “Don’ wanna.”

You sighed. “Rafe.”

“Baaaaby.”

“Drink the water.”

Rafe grumbled but obediently took a sip, grimacing like it physically pained him. You shook your head, amused despite yourself. You kicked off your shoes and climbed onto the bed beside him, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.

“Feel like shit,” he muttered, pressing his face into your palm.

“That’s what happens when you drink your weight in tequila.”

 “’M never drinkin’ again.”

 “Sure.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, grabbing your hand and pressing a sloppy kiss to your wrist. “Jus’ gonna stay home with you forever. Never leavin’ this bed.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah.”

Rafe hummed, eyes slipping shut. His breathing slowed, his grip on your hand loosening as exhaustion finally overtook him.

You sighed, settling in beside him, your fingers still tangled with his. 

You found yourself staring at him as he slept—mouth slightly open, hair a mess, snoring just a little. 

A year, a whole damn year of this. Of dealing with his bullshit, his temper tantrums, his insufferable ego—but also his stupid soft side, the way he always pulled you in closer, how needed to be near you like you were oxygen or some shit.

Never in a million years did you think you’d be this girl, the one who loved Rafe Cameron. Yet, here you were—pathetically, hopelessly, disgustingly in love with him.

With a quiet sigh, you brushed a strand of hair off his forehead and pressed the lightest of kisses there. “Idiot.”

The next morning, Rafe woke up with a dramatic wail, immediately burying his face in the pillow. His entire body hurt like a bitch, his mouth was dry as a fucking desert, and his head was pounding, going off inside his skull.

“Fuck,” he rasped, voice rough with sleep. His stomach twisted in protest, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the nausea.

You, on the other hand, were already sitting up beside him, scrolling through your phone like you hadn’t spent half the night wrestling his drunk ass into bed.

“You look like shit,” you said casually, not even bothering to glance at him.

Rafe groaned, dragging the pillow over his face. “Feel like shit.”

“That’s what happens when you go full frat boy mode.”

He grumbled something incoherent into the pillow before peeking up at you with bloodshot eyes. “Sweetheart…”

You arched a brow. “What?”

“Fix me,” he stretched an arm out toward you like a spoiled prince demanding attention.

 “Now you want me to fix you?” You leaned down, brushing his hair back. “You don’t remember the absolute nonsense you were saying last night, do you?”

Rafe hesitated, blinking at you. “…What nonsense?”

“Oh, you know,” you said, smirking. “Telling me I’m the prettiest girl in the world. Saying you’d die if I ever left you. Practically dry-humping me in the street.”

Rafe squeezed his eyes shut, rolling onto his back and draping an arm over his face. “Kill me."

You grinned. “I got videos too.”

He looked absolutely miserable. “Baby, please.”

You pushed yourself out of bed. “I’ll get you some Advil and water.”

Rafe watched you, his lips twitching up despite his pain. “Told you you love me.”

You tossed a pillow at his face. “Shut up and suffer.”

[inmyheaddd]

loving you forever can’t be wrong - rafe cameron x reader

summary: your ex has been non stop texting you for weeks, and you tell rafe. then he leaves as you fall asleep to go ‘handle some things’ warnings: mild language, sweet!rafe (to you atleast!!), mentions of cuts and blood wc: 1.5k

another notification came from your ex, insulting you in one paragraph, then begging for you back in the next. 

as rafe sat on the couch next to you typing away at his phone, you pulled your bottom lip through your teeth anxiously as you thought on what to do about the situation, ultimately deciding on speaking up.

you cleared your throat —a nervous habit, before calling out. “rafe?”

he hummed lowly in response, signaling he was listening as his eyes stayed glued to his phone.

swallowing thickly before speaking, you said,“there’s this guy who keeps bothering me— well, it’s my ex, and i keep blocking him, but he keeps finding ways to text me.” 

you would’ve found the way his head snapped up so quickly at the mention of a guy, more so your ex, in any other situation hilarious. but nothing really felt funny right now.

“what the fuck?” his attention was fully on you now, as that angry glint in his eyes reserved for his fights began to reappear, along with that oh so familiar clench of his jaw. “bothering you?”

“yeah like, texting me and stuff and calling m—“ 

he clicked his tounge, visibly frustrated as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “nah, what? let me see this shit.” he motioned for you to come closer, and you placed your phone in his hand as you sat next to him, bringing one knee to your chest and hugging it. 

as he read through the messages, you told him the multiple stories on how many times you’ve blocked this guy, how many accounts he’s made, and how you never even respond to him. 

his tounge poked the inside of his cheek as he tried to keep his anger in check, shaking his head and scoffing in disbelief, even laughing at the guy. 

“the fuck?” he muttered under his breath as he scrolled through the messages, seeing just how far they went back. “he’s been texting you for weeks? how pathetic is this fucker, huh?”

you simply pursed your lips in response, shrugging as rafes eyes flickered between yours and the phone.

his eyes slightly narrowed, then came the question, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

you weren’t really too sure, if you were being honest. you truly believed the blocking would’ve put him to a stop, but the messages only kept getting more and more aggressive. 

“well, i thought that he would stop, and, well, i don’t know…” you trailed off, your voice getting quieter as your eyes flickered to the phone, then back to rafe. “he just didn’t.” 

his jaw ticked as he heard the way your voice slightly quivered, and you could’ve sworn his eyes almost softened, but who were you kidding? this was rafe cameron you were dealing with. 

“listen, next time, you tell me first fucking thing when anyone’s bothering you, alright?”

he pointed a finger at you as to further get his point across, and you let go of your knee, sighing as you did so. 

“rafe i’m fine, i promise.” your voice involuntarily pitched higher towards the end of the sentence, coming across as a whiny child more so than the grown person you were. 

“alright?”

you opened your mouth to speak, then shut it again as he raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, his finger still pointed. you nodded, mumbling a small, “yeah, alright.” 

there wasn’t any room to argue. 

he mumbled under his breath as he resumed scrolling through the messages, a thick vein becoming prominent in his neck. “there won’t be a fucking next time, after i’m done with this sick fuck.”

“what?” 

he didn’t take his eyes off the phone, then he smiled, and the only way to describe that smile was wicked. “nothin’, baby.”

—

you were drifting in and out of sleep off watching shitty reality tv, cuddled up in your fuzzy blanket. you faintly felt rafe come up to you and press a kiss to your shoulder before he got up and left, causing you to stir awake. 

when you were fully awake, and realised he had left, you texted him countlessly, worrying where he was. he didn’t respond until 2 hours later with ‘handling things’ and ‘open the door baby’. 

you instantly hurried to the door, anticipating what you were going to see behind it. your breath hitched as you opened the door anyways, as rafe stood infront of you. his chest rising and falling heavily, his knuckles bloodied, and a slight bruise forming on his jaw — it was nothing you hadn’t seen before from him, but your heart still dropped every time. 

you couldn’t manage anything but a whisper as you brought a hand to your mouth, “oh my god, rafe.” 

he side stepped past you, running a hand through his hair as he kicked off his shoes. standing there, he looked like the complete opposite of you, with his disheveled clothes and sweaty skin. 

your hair was freshly blow dried after the shower you took to calm yourself down, still smelling like your shampoo, and your face was in a complete frown.

you knew what happened, but that didn’t stop you from asking anyway as you stepped towards him. “what did you do?”

“nothin,” he said, with that same smile from earlier as he brought a hand up, stroking your hair as he looked down at you. “you’re real pretty, you know that?” 

you sighed annoyedly as your lips took on a slight pout, but you leaned into his touch nonetheless. “rafe.” 

“what?” he replied in the same tone as you, you’d say he was mocking you if you didn’t know any better. 

he murmured, his voice dropping lower as he stepped even closer, your head slightly craning up. “baby, c’mon, don’t look at me like that.”

clearly you weren’t doing a very good job at hiding how worried you were. 

“what if you got hurt? or- or if he called the cops or something? you need to be careful, rafe.”

you tried not to worry, to just let him do his thing, and be all laid back, but it was so hard when he came back to you all bruised and bloody and acted like nothing happened. 

he let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor behind it— more like he was trying to make light of the situation.

“the cops can’t do shit. i know what im doing.” when you didn’t respond, only sighing as you broke eye contact and looked at the floor, he clicked his tounge, pulling you in close and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

you couldn’t wipe the pout off your face, but you moved your arms to wrap around his torso. 

“ ‘m sorry,” he mumbled into your hair as he gently swayed you side to side. “won’t do it again.“ 

you laid your head on his chest. you knew that he did this every single time, but a small part of you wanted to believe it anyways. 

“promise?” you asked.

“promise.” 

you lifted your head up from his chest to look at him, and you couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on your lips. 

he chuckled at just how fast your mood changed, running a hand up and down your arm. “that happy, huh?” 

you didn’t answer, only looking down as you smile widened. when you looked down, you saw his other hand with its beat up knuckles, and remembered the whole reason you were worried in the first place. 

you unwrapped your arms from him, carefully picking up his hand with the both of yours, wary not to touch any of the cuts.“oh my god,” you muttered, “we need to get that fixed up.”

—

rafe sat on the closed toilet lid, as you stood in between his legs. you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration as you wiped down his cuts on his knuckles with an alchohol wipe. 

“you know, if you didn’t get into a fight, we wouldn’t have to do this right now.” you murmured, your eyes flitting between his hands and his eyes. 

he clicked his tongue, “he was askin’ for it, talking to my girl like that.” 

you said nothing, only looking at him briefly, as you moved to his other hand, which was evidently worse than the one you had just done. he took a sharp intake of breath as you gently wiped his over cuts, turning his head to the side and clenching his jaw. then he blew out a breath, almost like a whistle.

you immediately stopped your actions, placing your hands back to your side as you went to get a better look at his face. “i’m sorry, are you okay?”  

“yeah,” he breathed out as he looked at you,  and he nodded forward slightly, motioning for you to continue. “jus’ keep doing your thing baby.” 

you managed a small smile in response, resuming but attempting to be even more careful. 

after a couple beats of silence, you spoke. “you better not split these open, and have us sitting here again.” 

you tried to sound serious and warning as you put a band aid on some of the bigger cuts, but rafe only let out a breathy chuckle at your words.

“you sure you don’t like doin’ this?” 

“that’s…” you bit back a smile and avoided eye contact, but you knew rafe was somewhat grinning. “that’s not the point.” you were finally done now, and your hands fell back to your sides.  

“yeah, you’re funny, alright.” he let out another one of his laughs before he stood up, wrapping an arm lazily around your shoulders as he steered you both back to your room. 

[eu-nicola]

Topper's sister

summary: since you were a child you had been in love with Rafe even though he never saw you, he always saw you as his best friend's little sister and nothing else, until one night everything changed.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 4487

author's note: english is not my first language

Since you were a child, you had always been Topper's "little sister." You grew up surrounded by him and his friends, watching from the shadows as they lived their days with a carefree attitude that you, in your innocence, envied. Among them all, Rafe Cameron had been your beacon. A platonic love that had begun when you were barely ten years old and he was already an arrogant and charming teenager.

It was impossible not to notice Rafe. With his easy laugh, his hair messy from the wind, and that confidence that radiated as if the world belonged to him. Every time he came to your house, he would greet you with a quick knock on the door before entering without waiting for an answer, and he always gave you the same gesture: a distracted flutter in his hair, as if you were a pet he found cute.

"Hey, little one." That was his standard greeting. A casual smile, without stopping to look at you for more than a second.

It made you burn inside. Not with hate, but with frustration. To him, you had always been the girl Topper shared DNA with, nothing more.

But time had passed. You were sixteen now, and you were no longer that shy girl who watched from the stairs as the boys joked and drank in the living room. You had changed. Your eyes, once filled with naivety, now knew how to see beyond the surface. Your hair fell in neat waves, and your style had become refined. You knew that many of Topper’s friends looked at you differently. The pool boy last week, Kelce at the last party, even some who were more distant were starting to seek your attention.

Except Rafe.

He was still the only exception.

One summer afternoon was an especially hot day, and as usual, Topper had invited his friends over to spend the day at the pool. You were in the kitchen, looking for something cold to drink, when you heard the familiar voices from the patio. Rafe’s laughter was loud, and as an automatic reflex, you looked out the window. There he was, with his cocky grin, throwing a ball back and forth with Topper and Kelce.

You decided to join in. You were no longer the girl who hid; now you knew how to move in his world. You came out with a glass of lemonade in your hand and headed toward the group.

“Maintaining the pool again?” you commented with a hint of mockery.

Topper rolled his eyes, but it was Kelce who answered first, smiling in a way you had seen before.

“There’s always room for you.”

Rafe didn’t even bother to look at you. He kept his eyes on the ball, as if your presence wasn’t worthy of his attention. That indifference stung, but you refused to let him notice.

“Sure, Kelce. Because you’re always such a gentleman,” you replied with a wink, playing along with his flirtation.

You sat down in one of the nearby chairs, letting the sun warm your skin as you feigned disinterest. You knew the others were looking at you, but your eyes were focused only on Rafe. Despite everything, he was still the one who held your attention.

After a while, the dynamic changed. Topper and Kelce decided to get into the water, leaving Rafe alone by the table. Without thinking much, you stood up and walked over.

“Are you going to stand there like a guard or are you going to have fun?” you asked, taking a seat next to him.

Finally, Rafe looked at you. His blue eyes met yours for a brief moment, and for the first time in a long time, he seemed to notice something different. But his usual smile quickly returned.

“Someone has to keep order. I don’t trust those two.” He pointed at Topper and Kelce, who were fighting over a float.

You rolled your eyes, leaning a little closer to him.

“Always so responsible, Rafe? You surprise me.”

“And you’re always so curious, huh?”

There was a mocking tone in his voice, but also something else. Something that made you wonder if, after all these years, Rafe was starting to see you as more than just Topper’s little sister. But you shouldn’t get your hopes up; you knew Rafe Cameron and his world of dangerous games all too well.

The afternoon passed without any major problems. The boys joked around and competed in absurd games, like who could stay on the float the longest or who could do the best dive from the edge of the pool. You joined them at times, letting the laughter flow freely. You felt the gazes of Kelce and the other boys on you, but as always, you didn't care enough.

Even so, there was something different in the air. A subtle tension. At one point, as you were toweling off after a dip, Kelce approached with a playful grin.

“So… you’re going to the party tonight, right?” he asked, leaning slightly towards you.

“Sure,” you replied without hesitation.

“Perfect.” Kelce winked at you and walked away, but not before Rafe pushed him away with a light punch on the shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Rafe said with a dry laugh.

“Just being friendly,” Kelce replied with a crooked grin, knowing full well what he was doing.

You watched the interaction, trying to figure out if there was something more behind Rafe’s reaction, but he didn’t say anything else. He simply turned away and refocused on the game. Although his apparent indifference was still present, you couldn’t ignore the small spark you’d seen in his eyes.

As the sun began to set, everyone started packing up their things. The boys went home to get ready for the party, while you stayed a little longer by the pool. You enjoyed the moment of calm, letting the warm breeze caress your skin before heading inside.

In your room, you opened your closet, searching for the perfect outfit for the night. You knew the party was going to be big; the entire Outer Banks was talking about it. You wanted to stand out, not only because you knew a lot of eyes would be on you, but also because you wanted to provoke a specific reaction. You wanted him to see you.

You chose a tight, deep blue dress, which highlighted your eyes and hugged your figure in all the right places. You carefully applied your makeup, opting for a style that combined naturalness with a hint of boldness. Looking in the mirror, you knew you were ready.

You walked down the stairs just as the first guests began to arrive. The house was already filled with music and laughter. Topper, as always, was in his element, greeting everyone and making sure drinks were never in short supply.

Hours later the atmosphere was electric. The house was filled with young people dancing, drinking and chatting in every corner. You walked through the living room confidently, greeting a few acquaintances before heading out to the patio where most of them were congregating. There, under the dim lights hanging over the pool, you saw Rafe.

He was leaning against the railing, a glass in his hand and that carefree smile that seemed permanent on his face. He was talking to a group of guys, but even from a distance, you could notice how some girls tried to catch his attention. He, however, ignored them with an ease that you found frustrating and fascinating in equal parts.

You decided not to approach him right away. Instead, you moved through the party, letting others come to you. Kelce appeared almost instantly, offering you a drink and throwing out flattering comments that you accepted with a smile.

However, every time you turned your head, your eyes went back to find Rafe. You watched him move around, talking to Topper or just watching the crowd, but never coming close to you.

After a while, you felt somewhat suffocated by the crowd and decided to step out onto the back balcony for a moment. The music was muffled, and the fresh air was a relief. You leaned on the railing, enjoying the brief respite.

You hadn’t been there more than a few minutes when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned your head and, to your surprise, it was Rafe.

“Escaping the party?” he asked with that smile he seemed to have been practicing for years.

“Just taking a break.” You shrugged, trying to remain calm.

He walked over and leaned on the railing beside you. For the first time in a long time, you were alone with him, without the distraction of others.

“Kelce seems to be quite interested in you,” he commented casually, though there was something in his tone that made you raise an eyebrow.

“And that bothers you?” “You asked, challenging him with your gaze.

Rafe let out a low laugh, turning his head to you.

“Should I?”

You didn’t answer right away. There was a tension in the air, an energy that seemed to envelop the two of you. Finally, you decided that, this time, you weren’t going to be the first to give in.

“I guess not,” you said with a hint of sarcasm, before looking away towards the horizon.

The silence that followed was brief, but loaded with meaning.

“Maybe.” His reply was almost a whisper.

The tension on the balcony was almost unbearable, but you refused to be the one to give in. Without giving him time to respond or analyze his words further, you stepped away from the railing and left him there, with his thoughts. You weren’t going to let that little moment consume you, not when there was an entire party waiting for you.

You went back inside the house, and as soon as you walked through the door, someone handed you a glass. You accepted it without thinking much, feeling the alcohol begin to warm your veins. The music was louder, the lights dimmer, and the energy of the party enveloped you again.

Soon you found yourself in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, surrounded by bodies moving to the beat of the music. It wasn't long before one of Topper's friends approached, a boy who had always tried to catch your attention. You knew that tonight he had his goal clear too, and it didn't bother you at all.

"Will you dance with me?" he asked you with a cheeky smile, already a few drinks in.

"Why not?" you answered, letting yourself be carried away by the music and the atmosphere.

He positioned himself close to you, his hands resting on your waist as you both followed the rhythm of the music. There wasn't a considerable space between you, and the closeness was enough to make other eyes fall on you, although you didn't care. At least, not until you felt a different presence at your side.

Suddenly, a strong hand rested on your arm, gently but firmly pulling you away from the boy you were dancing with. When you looked up, you met Rafe's eyes. His face was serious, and though his balance wasn’t perfect due to the alcohol, his gaze burned with an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

“Come on,” he said in a deep voice, almost inaudible over the music.

“What are you doing, Rafe?” you asked, surprised and confused, as he led you through the crowd.

“You shouldn’t be with him,” he replied, not even looking back.

You, your head clouded by the drinks you had consumed, could barely process what was happening. Before you knew it, you were in one of the rooms upstairs, away from the noise of the party.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, breaking free from his grip.

Rafe closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. There was something different in his gaze, something beyond the alcohol.

“I don’t know…” he murmured.

The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. You moved closer, your heart pounding in your chest. There were so many emotions mixed together: frustration, desire, confusion. Rafe looked at you, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t seem to have all the answers.

So, without thinking about it any further, you took a step closer and kissed him. It was an impulsive kiss, filled with years of repressed emotions. At first, Rafe seemed surprised, but he quickly reciprocated.

The kiss intensified, and soon everything else faded away. There was no one else, no past or future, just that moment.

What happened next was a mix of desire and confusion. You were both drunk, and even though your thoughts tried to stay clear, your actions betrayed you. That night was the first time you were with a man, and it was with him, with Rafe, the person you had idealized for so long.

You didn't say anything about it, and you didn't afterward either. Rafe didn't ask you, nor did he seem to care. To him, it was just another night, a mistake caused by alcohol and closeness.

When it was all over, you stayed silent, staring at the ceiling as he quickly got dressed. Rafe wasn't the type to stick around, and you knew that even before he opened his mouth.

“This isn’t going to happen again,” he said, his voice hoarse and tired. “We were just drunk, that’s all.”

It hurt, but you didn’t show it. Instead, you shrugged, pretending you didn’t care.

“I know.”

He gave you one last look, like he was searching for something in your expression, but when he found nothing, he simply left, closing the door behind him.

You stood there for a few minutes, letting reality hit you. You had known something like this could happen, that once you were around Rafe, your feelings would complicate everything again. But you also knew you weren’t going to let it define you.

You stood up, fixed your dress, and walked out of the room, ready to face the rest of the night. Rafe might want to pretend nothing had happened, but you weren’t going to get caught up in that. If he wanted to forget about it, you would too.

You returned to the party, head held high and a confident smile. There were more drinks, more laughter, more glances. Kelce found you again, and this time, you didn't hesitate to accept his attention.

The days following the party were a whirlwind of emotions for you. Every time you saw Rafe, a knot formed in your stomach. However, he didn't seem affected at all. He acted as if that night had never happened, as if it had all been an unimportant blur.

You expected it, but it didn't hurt any less. You had spent years dreaming of a moment like this, imagining what it would be like if Rafe finally saw you as more than "Topper's little sister." And even though it had happened, the reality was very different from your fantasies.

Rafe was back to his old self: distant, cocky, focused on his own world. His interactions with you were sporadic and cordial, if anything. There wasn’t a single sign that he remembered what happened, let alone cared.

You, for your part, tried to stay strong. You knew you couldn’t let a single moment define your life, but that was easier said than done. Despite everything, you were still in love with him. Every time he walked into a room, your attention was automatically drawn to him, even if you tried hard to look away.

You spent more time with Topper’s friends, especially Kelce, who seemed determined to win your attention. Kelce was friendly and knew how to make you laugh, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never make you completely forget about Rafe.

At night, you found yourself replaying the moments from that night over and over in your mind. You remembered his hands on you, the warmth of his body, the intensity of his gaze. But every time those memories came up, you forced yourself to push them away. Rafe had been clear: it wasn’t going to happen again.

Everything was moving on, and it was impossible to avoid Rafe entirely. You often saw him around the house, chatting with Topper or relaxing by the pool. When you were around him, you tried to act natural, but each interaction was harder than you wanted to admit.

One day, while you were in the kitchen preparing something to eat, Rafe came in, reaching for a beer in the fridge. For a moment, you were alone, silence filling the space between you.

“Everything okay?” he asked casually, not looking at you as he opened the bottle.

“Yeah, everything okay,” you replied in a neutral tone, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rafe nodded and leaned against the counter, taking a sip of his drink. There were no more words between you, and after a few minutes, he simply walked out of the kitchen, leaving you alone once again.

Those kinds of encounters became commonplace. Rafe was always polite, but it never went beyond a “hello” or an occasional question. It seemed like for him, nothing out of the ordinary had really happened.

You decided you couldn’t stay stuck in that cycle anymore. If Rafe could ignore what happened, then you could try too. You pushed yourself to focus on other things: hanging out with your friends, focusing on your own interests, even considering the idea of ​​starting something with someone new.

Yet every little bit of progress fell apart the moment you saw Rafe. There was something about him that always drew you back, as if your heart refused to accept what your mind already knew.

One afternoon, as you sat on the patio, watching the waves in the distance, you heard footsteps behind you. You turned your head and saw Rafe, walking with that nonchalance that always seemed to accompany him. He sat down on one of the nearby chairs, not saying anything at first.

“Thinking about something deep?” he finally asked, with a slight smile.

You didn’t answer right away. You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure.

“Maybe,” you finally said, without looking at him.

Rafe didn’t press. He stayed silent, sipping from his glass as you both stared at the horizon. For a moment, you almost seemed like friends, like there was nothing strange between you. But you knew it was just a passing illusion.

That was the problem with Rafe. He always managed to sneak into your life, into your thoughts, even when you tried to keep him out.

Days after trying to ignore him, there was another party but this time not at your house but at Rafe’s house. The music was pumping loudly, filling every corner of the house. The lights flickered to the beat of the bass, while the air was charged with the energy of bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. You stood in the center of the dance floor, lost in the music, letting a boy lead you confidently. He was attractive, and his smile had a mischievous touch that kept your thoughts away from Rafe, at least for a while.

“You’re a great dancer,” the boy told you, leaning close to your ear so you could hear him over the music.

You smiled, grateful for the compliment, although it didn’t affect you too much. All you wanted was to enjoy the night without complications, without thinking about what had happened days ago. But just when you thought you could finally relax, you felt a strong hand on your arm.

“That’s enough,” you heard Rafe’s voice, sharp and determined, as he pulled you away from the boy.

You turned quickly, coming face to face with him. His eyes, despite the slight glint of alcohol, were filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in a long time. The boy you were dancing with raised his hands, taking a few steps back, clearly not wanting to confront Rafe.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, pulling away from his hold, furious at the interruption.

“What am I doing?” Rafe repeated, as if the answer was obvious. “What do you think you’re doing, dancing with him like that?”

You stared at him incredulously, your emotions swinging between surprise and anger.

“Excuse me? Since when do you care who I dance with?”

Rafe looked at you with his lips pressed together, his jaw tensing.

“I don’t care, but you don’t have to behave like that in front of everyone.”

“Behave like that?” you laughed bitterly. “Don’t tell me what to do, Rafe. You’re nobody to butt into my life.”

His face showed a hint of something, maybe surprise, maybe frustration. But he quickly hid it, taking a step back.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his tone cold and distant. “I’m nobody.”

With that, Rafe turned around and walked away, leaving you there, your heart pounding and a mix of emotions you couldn't control.

You stood in the center of the dance floor, watching him walk away. The music continued, people continued dancing, but to you everything seemed to have paused. His words echoed in your mind: I'm nobody.

You tried to regain your composure. You went back to where your friends were, but your mood was no longer the same. Although you pretended everything was fine, inside you the anger and confusion continued to grow.

Rafe had made his point clear: he didn't want anything serious, but he didn't seem to want you to be with someone else either. What right did he have to make a scene out of jealousy if you meant nothing to him?

You took a long drink from the drink someone offered you, determined to erase that moment from your mind.

The next morning the sun shone high in the sky as the group enjoyed the afternoon by Topper's pool. You were lying on a lounge chair, your sunglasses covering half your face, letting the heat tan your skin. You could hear the sound of the waves in the distance and the laughter of the boys drinking beers near the pool.

Rafe was there, of course, sitting next to Topper and Kelce. You tried not to look at him, concentrating on the book in your hands, even though you hadn’t read a single word since you sat down. Your tranquility was interrupted, however, when one of Topper’s friends, a boy named Mason, decided to approach.

“Enjoying the sun?” he asked with a smile, leaning in slightly so you could hear him.

You looked up over your sunglasses and smiled lightly at him.

“Yeah, it’s a nice day,” you replied in a relaxed tone.

Mason sat on the edge of your lounge chair, his presence much closer than you expected.

“I was thinking maybe we could take advantage of this nice day and go out on the jet ski later. What do you say?” he suggested, clearly interested in spending more time with you.

Before you could answer, you felt a shadow approaching. Rafe was now standing next to your lounge chair, his gaze fixed on Mason.

“Don’t you have anything better to do, Mason?” Rafe asked with a tight smile, though his tone made it clear it wasn’t a friendly suggestion.

Mason looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t move immediately.

“I was just talking to her, man. Relax.”

“Well, talk from over there,” Rafe replied, pointing towards the group of guys by the pool.

You sat up, furious, and pushed your sunglasses aside to face him.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe?” you snapped, your voice filled with anger.

Rafe didn’t respond immediately, simply keeping his gaze fixed on Mason until he finally stood up and walked back to the group. Then, he turned his attention back to you.

“Can we talk?” he said in a tone that tried to be softer.

“No, we can’t.” You stood up from the lounge chair and grabbed your towel. Without waiting for an answer, you headed into the house, leaving Rafe standing by the pool.

You went up to your room, closed the door behind you, and dropped onto the bed, trying to calm yourself down. But it wasn’t more than a few minutes before the door slammed open. Rafe had walked in without even knocking, his face a mix of frustration and determination.

“What do you want now?” you asked, standing up to face him.

“I want to know what the hell you’re doing,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“What am I doing?” you repeated in disbelief. “I’m the one who should be asking you that! You were clear, Rafe. Our thing was just one night. I accepted it, remember? So why do you keep showing up every time someone else is paying attention to me?”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice lower.

That only made you angrier.

“Well, I do know that. You have no right to butt into my life, Rafe. No right to make me jealous when you yourself said it meant nothing.”

Rafe stayed silent, his eyes locked on yours. He knew you were right, but he couldn’t seem to find the words to respond. Instead, he took a step towards you, and before you could react, his lips were on yours.

You resisted at first, pushing him away slightly, still angry. But Rafe didn’t pull away, and after a second, the tension between you exploded. You gave in, kissing him back with the same intensity. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. Rafe looked at you, his eyes darker now, filled with desire.

“We have to stop here,” he said quietly, though his hands were still firmly gripped by your hips. “If we don’t, I won’t be able to stop later.”

You stared at him, not pulling away.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered, with a determination that surprised even yourself.

That was all it took. Rafe kissed you again, more urgently this time, as he led you toward the bed. You both knew you were crossing a line, but at that moment, neither of you seemed to care.

[cameronsbabydoll]

sexist! rafe cameron who thinks it’s kinda of funny and amusing when you dream about doing things like work or school and treats it almost like a child playing pretend.

you’re sitting on the couch, cross-legged in your little pajama shorts, laptop open, blue light reflecting in your glassy eyes while you ramble about your online classes.

“so if i finish this program by december, i might be able to intern at that place in charleston next year! they emailed me back!” you beam, proud of yourself.

your voice is light, sweet, excited—like a kid showing off a crayon drawing.

rafe doesn’t even look up from his phone at first.

just hums low in his throat, almost like he’s cooing.

“mm. yeah? that’s cute, baby.”

you blink, still smiling but confused.

“what?”

he finally lifts his eyes—lazy, unreadable—and grins like he’s indulging you.

“i said it’s cute, watching you pretend you’re gonna work in some little office with your name on a desk. adorable.”

you feel your stomach drop a little.

“it’s not pretend…”

he chuckles under his breath, sets his phone down, and stretches one arm along the back of the couch.

“you think i’m gonna let my girl clock in and out like some minimum wage intern? wear slacks and call other men ‘sir?’”

“c’mon, baby. you weren’t made for that.”

you pout a little, trying to explain—something about passion, fulfillment, wanting to be taken seriously—and he just watches you.

like it’s entertaining.

like he’s watching a toddler play dress-up in her mom’s heels.

“you don’t need a job. you need someone to keep you fed and fucked and away from men who think a degree makes you special.”

you stare at him, throat tight, laptop still open in your lap.

he taps the bottom of your chin, voice soft but mocking.

“school’s not gonna teach you how to make me a plate. or keep my house clean. or stay in your place.”

and then he kisses your forehead, like he's proud of you anyway.

“you’ll learn, though. you’re a smart little thing—when you’re not pretending to be grown.”

[captain-huggy-bear]

To Fight a Ten Year Old

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: In which Quinn is prepared to time travel to whoop some ten year old butt because you tell him a story from your childhood and he takes it personally.

Notes: Alas, I did in fact experience this as a child, but I can laugh about it now :) Also writing soccer instead of football actually hurt me.

Very silly + short idea to be honest but hope it brings a smile to some faces!

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a stupid little back and forth the two of you have going as you get ready for bed, silly little questions like 'tell me about your first broken bone' and 'why is your favourite animal your favourite?'. It's something Quinn and you have been doing since you first started dating. It started as a way to get to know each other better and ended up a habit, a ritual of sorts.

Each year the questions get harder to think of as your lives become more intertwined, most of your stories featuring the other, but it still raises interesting moments from your childhoods and silly little stories that explain a lot about you or him. Things you probably wouldn't find out about each other unless you asked these random questions or a family member brought it up at Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Today is no different. You're going through your night routine, taking off your make up and moisturising your skin, while Quinn brushes his teeth in the adjoining bathroom, door open so you can talk.

"Okay..." He's thinking hard, even as he talks around his toothbrush leaning his head out of the bathroom to watch you as you wipe away your eyeliner, "How about first heartbreak?" His voice is muffled around the toothbrush and almost sounds like he's underwater, despite this he never seems to want to wait until he's done.

"Like first heartbreak? Or first proper heartbreak?" You're running a cloth over the rest of your face as you ask, wiping away concealer and blush, an array of colours smearing the fabric. Your skin being revealed bit by bit.

"What's the difference?" He briefly disappears back into the bathroom to spit out his toothpaste and put his toothbrush away, but you know he's still listening as you explain.

"Well, first heartbreak is that time as a little kid that you thought you were in love and got hurt by it but it wasn't serious. You were probably over it by the next week, and first proper heartbreak is when you're older and it actually is heartbreak and you can't get over it for at least 3 months."

He hums as he comes back to lean against the doorframe, shoulders looking delicious without a shirt on, "First heartbreak, probably less depressing for a Monday night."

You take a moment, reaching for your moisturiser as you think back. There are many moments you could think of where you thought you were in love as a litte kid and had your heart broken as a result, but one stands out the most.

"Okay, um...When I was 10 years old I really liked like this boy in class called Cameron but Cameron really liked Emily, a girl 2 years older than us." You can still remember it now, the way he used to sit with her whenever he had the chance, how she clearly did not want a kid 2 years younger than her hanging around, how lovesick he was...how lovesick you were.

"Okay, so Cameron likes a cougar?" You glare over at him as you rub moisturiser into your skin, disapproving as he grins at you, straight teeth peeking out from behind his lips.

"2 years apart at the age of 10 and 12 does not make someone a cougar, Quinn!"

"I don't know, baby, seems pretty cougar-ish to me." You roll your eyes at him as he strolls closer to you, taking your comb in hand and tilting your head forward gently. He's careful as he starts to detangle your hair, careful not to pull too harshly on your scalp, much kinder than your mother used to be when you were a child. Quinn's always careful not to hurt you, apologetic if a tangle pulls too roughly.

"You're ridiculous. Anyway, where was I?" You reach for the detangler handing it back to him as he works, closing your eyes gently.

"You liked a spotty kid called Cameron." There's a hint of dislike riding his voice, even as his fingers are careful as they pull strands of your hair apart, teasing out knots.

Your eyes flash open and meet his in the vanity mirror, lips pursed at the way he insults a ten year old he's never met, "I liked a tall, cute kid called Cameron who was into soccer."

"Yeah, like I said, spotty." The dislike turns to a jealous sort of mumble, matched only by the sour look on his face that has you huffing out a laugh.

"Are you jealous of a ten year old?"

"He's not ten anymore..."

"Do I need to remind you this is a story of heartbreak?"

"Still, should've been me." His hands slide from your hair, comb having been put back on the side, and down to the base of your neck. Long fingers working at the tension there, you lean back into his fingers even as you call him out for his ridiculousness.

"We didn't even know each other! You're absurd, anyway, so I was certain Cameron was my future husband and I decided to be very brave one Valentine's day and get him a card and a gift." You lean a little to the right as Quinn hits a knot on the left side of your shoulder, you sway back into him.

"I'm proud of little you, that's gutsy." He can almost imagine it, little you bravely handing over a glittery red and pink monstrosity, little bows in your hair and chubby cheeks.

"I know, braver than I am now." You're not sure you'd have been brave enough to do something like that now, it had been Quinn after all who'd made the first move, Quinn who'd set the pace of your relationship at the start, "So I get him some chocolates, those stupid cheap heart shaped ones, and I make a stupid card covered in glitter and all sorts. I take my time and I write a heartfelt confession inside and then decided to give it to him in front of the entire class."

"No..." His voice drops, horror filling it as he looks at you through the mirror, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. You nod at him, confirming his worst fears, he knows how this is about to go down.

"Yeah, rookie move. I do it though, I hand it over and then he proceeds to not even read the card and um, rip it up in front of me and the entire class while telling me that he was going to marry Emily."

His fingers still in their massage. In fact, Quinn completely stills, his entire body rigid as he frowns at you through the mirror, there's a silence, long and heavy before he speaks.

"Where does Cameron live?"

"Quinn." You turn in your seat to look up at him, lips pursed together.

"I'm serious where does he live I'm going to go have some words with him," He crosses his arms and there's a brief moment where you're distracted by the strength and definition in his forearms before you really process that he's considering having words with a guy who broke your heart when you were ten.

"About his choices when he was ten?"

"Yeah! Who does that to someone, not only did he reject you, which is an insane decision by the way, he embarrasses my baby in front of the entire class!" Quinn reaches for your hands as he rants, pulling you to your feet, as his fingers twist and twine with yours. You'd think he's just joking but his tone is completely serious and it makes your heart warm, no matter how silly he's being. He's genuinely personally offended on your behalf about something that happened when you were a child, before you knew each other. It's sweet. Silly and absurd, but sweet.

"You can't fight a guy who broke my heart at the age of ten."

"Sure, I can or I can get Millsy to do it." He cracks a smile at that, even though he's serious about wanting words with this Cameron, he's also aware he's being absurd. He tugs you closer by the hands even as you glare up at him like a disappointed parent.

"You are not setting Miller on my childhood crush!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous! It was over a decade ago!" Even as you protest you're smiling, arms reaching up to rest over his shoulders and around the back of his neck. Fingers twisting the strands of brunet hair that rest there.

"And, he broke your heart and that's not acceptable, baby, i'm sorry, I have to defend your honour." Quinn palms rest on each of your hips, pulling you in as his fingers curl into your pajama bottoms.

"But, it was a good thing."

"How is that a good thing?"

"Because if he hadn't done that, I might have married him and been stuck in a loveless marriage and then never met you or met you but not been able to be with you." You look at him with a little smirk like you've beat him at his own game, like you've outplayed him in a game of chess.

"So you're saying that I actually should be thanking that spotty kid for breaking your heart?"

"Yes."

There's a moment of silence as he draws you ever closer, leaning down to brush his nose against yours, all soft lidded eyes and warmth. Pliant like a docile house cat.

"I'm not thanking him, I will, however, not get Millsy to fight him." It's mumbled so close to your lips that they're brushing his, an almost kiss that speaks volumes about where his mind is now.

"Good, because I'm not breaking you or Miller out of prison."

"You don't love me enough?" He doesn't even have the decency to pretend to be offended or care as his eyes are heavy, focus on your lips, not your eyes and certainly not on the ten year old he was threatening to set Miller on 5 seconds ago.

"Oh, I love you enough, but I do not have that skill set, honey."

"I don't know, think you could probably charm the officers into letting me out, baby." Quinn brushes the tip of his nose purposefully with yours and you know he's seconds from breaking and just kissing you, he has his tells, his little gestures that have consistently given him away.

"You suggesting I seduce the police now?" You pull back just enough to get his attention, to force a pout from him at the distance, his fingers scrambling at your back to pull you back in.

"...Nawwh, only me."

"You're an idiot." He pulls in you in with enough force that your chests bump with a soft smack, rubbing his cheek against yours just because he knows the stratch of his beard will get a giggle from you as you shy away from the sensation.

"I'm your idiot though."

"Mmm, my idiot." You mumble it against his lips as he finally breaks, self control being ditched in favour of the way you sigh against his mouth. He tastes like spearmint toothpaste, minty and sweet as his lips part beneath yours with a hum.

Maybe heartbreak at ten sucked, but you can't help but be thankful for it when you ended up winning the jackpot when you scored Quinn. So much better than spotty ten year old Cameron.

[princessbrunette]

so i know i always say that rafe is strictly a girl dad. well, he is. but sometimes i like to humour myself with the universe where he’s the father to the sweetest little boy ever.

the universe would be ironic like that. rafe foolishly knocked you up when he was 22 — the boy still having alot to learn. he was still walking around with that pistol tucked into his waistband, fighting pogues, mouthing off and going on coke rants. you had been terrified, wondering what kind of a father rafe was going to be — even when he promised time and time again, “i’m — i’m getting my shit together alright? i can, hey — we can do this? okay?” with sweat gathered at his hairline and tears in his eyes. thus, when the universe decided to play the hilarious prank which was having the doctor tell you ‘its a boy!’, your first thought was ‘shit.’

because he was bound to be just like rafe, right?

you had seemingly prophetic visions, a spoiled little brat — just like his father was, thundering around in a brightly coloured ralph lauren polo from the baby range, demanding the teet when he saw fit. a girl would have been fine — you’d seen wheezie grow up around rafe and turn out totally fine (aside from the likely trauma.) but a boy? what did rafe cameron know about raising a boy? was your son next up to become a drug slinging, pogue hating, maniac? (with no offence to rafe of course, you were unfortunately very much in love with him but contrary to popular belief that did not disrupt your common sense.)

rafe was over the moon about you being pregnant with a boy too, which did little to comfort you.

the anxiety subsided the second that baby was out of you, his sticky, slimy little body placed onto your chest with rafe crowding your space — his bravado dropped for a second to reveal a childlike awe. his own baby. you could tell it was only now that things became very real for rafe. his eyes well up, covering his shaky grin with an even shakier hand, saying stuff like “shit, oh uh nah i probably shouldn’t cuss infront of the baby anymore right? yeah… my god, you did it baby. brought me my boy. should be so god damn proud.” he croons as his hands dig affectionately into your sore shoulders, smearing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “ahh, aha — what the hell kinda man am i cryin’ at this huh? shit.” he sniffles as he wipes his eyes but you’re not listening. you’re staring at your perfect boy.

he grows into something perfectly reminiscent of both you and rafe’s features, all whilst smushed into the cutest baby you’ve ever seen. you were aware every parent said that about their child, but no — you were certain. he was pampers commercial level cute. ‘top ten cutest babies’ buzzfeed article level cute. sarah would often hold him to her chest and something would be healed as she’d whisper “i can’t believe you came from my brother.” into his wispy hair. he was a true blessing.

with big doe eyes that took up half his face and an appearance that somehow replicated a baby lamb that had been turned into a human on the basis of a magical spell — you had long forgotten about your worries regarding having a boy.

a few years down the line and not much has changed. your baby boy is three years old, chubby fists clutching his empty plastic lightening mcqueen plate as he toddles out onto the porch where rafe sits spread out opposite barry, sipping on a can of beer in the early evening. your son is distracted by a decorative plant, and the two men pay him no mind as they continue talk.

“but — but that’s the thing, right, barry? i dont do that shit anymore and… and i sure as hell am not looking to start again.”

“man i get that rafe you a father now, all serious and shit but think about the money. you thinkin’ with your husband head and not with your cameron head. your daddy was a piece of shit but he had that business mindset that you gotta adopt, bro.”

rafe’s expression flattens, finishing his can before leaning forward onto his elbows. “well uh, newsflash — i don’t wanna be anything like my dad. now if we’re done here…” rafes attention is caught by the mini him waddling into view, holding his plate infront of him.

“more please?” comes the sweetest voice in the world, blinking up at the man he viewed as his entire universe, much like you at times.

“finished your icecream already huh? where’s your mom?” he cranes round, but doesn’t bother searching much further when he hears the padding of your footsteps.

“aye buddy, you know we was just talkin’ about you.” barry leans forward with a smarmy grin and your son gets shy, lifting his shoulders practically to his ears and looking down, glueing himself to rafes leg.

“conversations done, actually.” rafe reminds him, lifting the boy to sit on his hip as he hoists himself to stand. as he does so, you appear in the doorway to the patio— sundress clad belly swollen with another baby.

“rafe could you bring him in? it’s too hot out there for him without his hat.” you furrow your eyebrows, deciding to ignore barry’s presence all together, which of course doesn’t stop him from conversing.

“shit, i ain’t seen you in a while mama. he got you again? you two stay busy, huh?” rafes oldest ‘friend’ chuckles, gold tooth glinting in the sun light, and like your only child — you shy away, sending rafe a parting glance that said ‘just hurry up and rid of him.’

rafe adjusts the baby boy on his hip, now staring down at barry.

“talk to my girl again n’i’ll bring out the old me alright, you don’t want that. go do somethin’ barry, i don’t care what it is just get off my goddamn property yeah?” rafe drawls tiredly, crushing the can in his hand and dropping it carelessly into the wastebin beside barry before heading inside, your son turning to stare sweetly at the dark haired man over his dads shoulder, offering a sticky, wide fingered salute in parting.

atleast rafe was still his usual charming self, son or not.

[aphrodicci]

ᴀꜱᴛʀᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴏʙꜱᴇʀᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ

follow for more content <3

paid chart readings

these are observations i've made due to people i've been around and celebrity charts i have looked at x

♇ scorpio placements like to be praised for everything they've done.

♇ online personalities who have really loud personas usually have a sag placements, ex berleezy, trap celeb, oli london, ekane etc...

♇ during a solar return chart having a stellium or more than 4+ planets in your 1h means you will REALLY be in your head, might face a lot of mental challenges.

♇ people with beneficial planets in their 9h ex jupiter or venus, specifically, usually do okay within in education, like no matter how back they are, they always pass

♇ pisces placements can RAMBLE and talk for a long time without actually saying anything.

♇ pisces mars men, the worst. the ones i've come across usually don't know what they want. but pisces mars women >>>

♇ aries degrees, specifically the 13th degree could insinuate you could be the first person to do something. janice dickson has the 25th degree and she is known as the first supermodel, beverly johnson has the 1st degree and is known as the first black supermodel, eva is the first black woman to win america's next top model and she has the 13th degree.

♇ sagittarius placements... laughing and smiling for no reason...

♇ leo moons and having hair that grows fast. for example, my brother and my nephew are both leo moons and they can cut their hair and a month later it grows back to their shoulders. i believe this could apply to 5H moons.

♇ those who have their 12h ruler conj or positively aspect their moon do become famous, [moon rules over audience] ariana grande has moon conj venus and megan has moon conj mars. if there's a negative aspect, it is still a fame indicator, but they would like get their fame after, for example chapelle roan who has moon square mercury.

♇ a lot of cancer asc men are insecure. the ones i know pity themselves so much too.

♇ much sag sun women like to dance, could be sag in big 6 + jupiter as well

♇ a fixed sign specifically scorpio in the 11h is a strong indicator of having a big online platform. but the one that is stronger than that is having moon in the 11h, most people that have this placement or even cancer in the 11h told me that they have a big platform.

♇ people with saturn or lilith in the 7h might be put into uncomfortable situations with their friend and their friends s/o, like their s/o might always likes them.

♇ uranus in 3h people might like to make up languages? or learn new ones

♇ your jupiter persona chart can talk to you about your future spouse as jupiter is the main planet to look at when it comes to your wife/husband.

♇ nara smith has jupiter in cancer and her spouse is very domestic and traditional, he even helped her give birth to their newest child, whimsy lou.

♇ dove cameron has a gemini ascendant with the 12th degree [pisces degree] probably why people say she has so many faces, she also has a heavy 8h which points to she got many procedures, khloe kardashian has a gemini moon and is also said to have many faces, also have pluto in the 8h.

♇ scorpio placements really dont like it when you enter their room all the time.

♇ a lot of dhanistha moon women have upturned eyes, or like to wear eyelashes that give them that look.

♇ people who have moon in the 11h do friend-crush a lot.

♇ aries venuses are the type to hate the people they crush on, their feelings can be quick changing but it is still intense!

♇ the reason some virgo and cancer ascendants are normally confused with each other is because they both have cat faces.

♇ its funny that when jupiter in taurus was at its peak which is the 29th degree, chef-influencers became more known on social media.

♇ people with a strong sag+virgo combination could be obsessed with perfecting their future

♇ people with scorpio/aries in their chart are likely to become alcoholics.

♇ saturn in cancer natives are likely to be less submissive to men.

♇ people with moon in the 11h or have cancer in their 11h tend to have big followers online [can work if the ruler of your 11h is in cancer]

♇ the "rumours" are true, aries venuses do get disinterested pretty quickly.

♇ the 6H in astrology can tell you what kind of skills you have, for example, if you have a venusian ruled 6H [Libra, Taurus, Venus in 6H], you could be talented a makeup, fashion etc.

+ the kalogeras sisters have leo/sun influence in their chart and they're known for their curly hair, [leo rules the mane].

pluto

paid chart readings

[mariespen]

Pretty Girl ˚. ୭୧ .˚

daddy issues!reader x rafe cameron .˚ summary: "His girl, only his, sobbing in his arms." warnings: major daddy issues!, very mild mentions of verbal/physical abuse, shared trauma

based on this request!

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

The bright ping on your phone shone throughout the dark bedroom like a discreet warning.

You got up to check it, a small and exhausted smile on your face.

Rafe recognized the way your eyes saddened, slowly becoming more droopy and cursing your cheeks as if they were pulling you down with them. He looked at your face like it was a mirror. He watched you try to block every thought out of your head, try to put the phone down and run back into the warm arms of your boyfriend.

“Hey..” Rafe whispered, his voice deep and scratchy from the morning sun.

You let out the smallest sniffle, wiping your eyes and hesitantly putting your phone back down. You turned to him, looking at him like the world was weighing down on your shoulders.

The eye contact made Rafe’s eyes glossy with the reminder that the two of you really weren’t all that different. He couldn’t stand the idea that another man was hurting his little girl.

You let yourself collapse into his arms, feeling them wrap around you and rest on your tense body. He sighed, burying his face into your messy hair and pressing you further into him.

Rafe didn’t need telepathy to know what that text said, he didn’t need anything but his own personal experience, but he wanted to see it word for word. He held you closer, keeping his grip tight as a weak attempt to distract you from his arm reaching over to take your phone from the night stand. He felt lucky when you didn’t stir, just clung onto him in understanding.

He started to open your phone to gain an alternate understanding, but he felt his heart break when you started shaking in his arms. His girl, only his, sobbing in his arms.

“My love..” He whispered, dropping your phone somewhere on the bed and holding you with both arms again.

Your sobs shook your shoulders and he realized that he didn’t need to know what that message said at all. Rafe needed to be next to you, he needed to kiss your tears away, he needed you to look at him with nothing but love and trust.

“Talk to me, princess.” He spoke into your hair, planting an encouraging kiss on the crown of your head.

“Can’t..” You sobbed, clutching tighter onto him.

Sleep clouded your senses, safety replacing the white-hot feeling of dread as he kissed your forehead like you were made of only porcelain and glass rather than the harsh reality of bones and blood.

Rafe woke up with your soft skin pressing into his tense body. It was hard sleeping knowing that your tears stained his chest. You stirred in his arms and he strained his neck down to kiss your cheek gently, pulling back up to relax into the plush pillows.

His hand found its way from the warm confines of your hair and down your neck, stopping at the base of your back. Rafe drew up your shirt just enough to slot his fingers under, scratching your back to the beat of the thoughts in his head.

Reflections and recollections of his father’s angry shouts flooded his mind. Every word attacked him and latched onto him almost the same as they had when he was nothing but a child. He was stronger now, stronger than the words his father spat at him and the fist that same man had thrown at him.

Rafe worked quietly to take hold of your phone again. He didn’t bother reading your father’s small and dismissive texts. On an impulse, Rafe instantly found the block button and deleted his contact. He cleared all of your tabs, feeling a pang of guilt course through him. That quickly disappeared.

The soft shaking of Rafe’s body woke you up. He muttered something but you couldn’t hear the detail of his voice. Instead, you hiked one of your legs up onto his abdomen and let your head bury itself into his side. You gave him a squeeze, emitting a small chuckle from him.

“G’morning, princess.” He said, brushing a hand through your hair as a strong, protective urge blanketed him.

Rafe felt safe when you felt safe. He felt at peace when you did and he felt protected when you felt the same. His happiness was solely in your hands and you were clueless, at least he thought you were.

“Morning..” You yawned into him, starting to fall back asleep in his warm embrace.

Rafe kissed you softly, pulling you upright and brushing the strands of hair away from your face.

“Gotta get up.. important business today.” He said with a higher pitch to his voice that made your heart melt.

You pouted and nodded as Rafe got out of bed and retrieved the outfit he had picked out for you yesterday. He began to get ready, checking on you once and seeing that you were still in bed, slowly falling asleep on your own terms.

Rafe walked over to you, sitting next to you and picking up your head to lay on his lap. His fingers lazily tangled into your hair as he spoke to you.

“C’mon baby, time to get ready.” Rafe’s voice bordered a whisper while he sat you upright again.

“M’kay..” You answered groggily. 

You dramatically got out of bed, a protesting pout shading your face as he chuckled at your stubborn features. The ice of your tired chest broke when he kissed you and warmed your entire body with pastel-red love.

Getting ready was never a chore when Rafe was next to you. His company had never shied away from you and he made sure to attach you to his hip at all times.

“You look gorgeous, princess.” He said, kissing your glossy lips deeply enough to steal some right from your face. He wiped his mouth with a laugh, settling on your forehead. He stooped down to kiss the perch of your face before helping you up.

“Really?” You asked with a bright smile. His eyes softened at your question, noticing a hint of doubt lining your features.

“I’d never lie to you, sweetheart.” He whispered to you, capturing your lips in a quick kiss before pulling away to admire the way blush flares up your face.

You nodded, never being amazing at receiving compliments but you couldn’t deny how his words made your whole heart melt into a puddle inside of your ribs. Rafe pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face.

“You’re my girl, m’always gonna think you’re pretty. Won’t ever give up on you, a’ight?”

Tears brimmed your waterline as he forced you to hold eye contact with his softening eyes.

“I got you, pretty girl.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

[rafeandonlyrafe]

sunny

words: 500

warnings: soft!rafe, established relationship, childhood stuffed animal, mentions of sex but no smut

“wait!” you gasp, suddenly pulling away from the kiss.

“what, what is it?” the worry is evident on rafes face as his eyes widen, not sure what he did wrong. maybe it was all moving too fast for you.

“i-um.” your hands splay against the door behind you, the same door rafe pushed you against and captured your lips. “i need to move some stuff in my room before you come in.”

rafe rolls his eyes. “i don't care if it's messy.”

“it's just some um… personal stuff.” you giggle awkwardly.

“come on baby, you're my girlfriend now.” rafe knows it's probably nothing, but there's something inside of him that's desperate to know what you're attempting to hide, to learn all your secrets.

“fine, but if you make fun of me rafe cameron-” you hold a finger up to his face. “i won't break up with you but ill be very pissed.

“no laughing, got it.” rafe nods.

you sigh and open the door behind you, letting rafe step past you into the room. his eyes sweep over the floor, expecting to see something embarrassing, but there's only a bit of clothes tossed around. 

he shifts focus to your desk next, but it just has perfectly organized makeup. he looks at your bed last, a smile stretching across his face.

“i said no laughing!”

“im not laughing baby, this is so cute.” he coos out, stepping closer as he picks up the teddy bear, clearly old and well loved.

“be careful!” you squeal without even meaning to, rushing to stand next to rafe as he holds your childhood teddy.

“what's his name?” rafe asks.

“sunny.” you reply, pointing at the small embroidered patch in the shape of a sun, now faded to a pale yellow.

“this is what you didn't want me to see? baby, this is so cute. do you still sleep with sunny every night?”

“maybe…” you mumble. you don't take him on trips anymore like you did as a child, but he'll always have a place in your bed until he literally disintegrates.

“adorable.” rafe carefully sets the teddy bear down before turning to you, placing his hands on your cheeks. “you're the cutest.”

you roll your eyes. “i said no making fun of me.”

rafe shakes his head. “baby, it really is adorable.”

you furrow your brows, looking intensely at rafe, waiting for him to burst out laughing, but it never comes.

“you're seriously not making fun of me.” you hum out.

“in case you weren't aware by me asking you out, im kinda obsessed with everything you do.” rafe chuckles softly. “it's adorable, you're adorable.”

rafe glances at sunny, sat smiling on your bed, his brown fur carefully brushed through to keep it from matting. “but we should turn him the other direction when we have sex. it feels wrong.”

“oh, i got it!” you pick sunny up and move to your closet, opening it to reveal a small chair fit for a baby as you place him on it and shut the door.

“perfect.” rafe smiles. “now should we get back to what we were doing?”

you nod rapidly. “yes, absolutely.”

sfw taglist: @juniebugg @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d

[rafesplaymate]

Hi! It's me again, Request!! Stepdaddy!rafe x naive!sweetheart!reader, rafe marrying readers mom because he realize his age ain't going down so he eventually would have to settle down (late 30s!rafe) and he thought he found the one to settle down with. Until, she introduced her daughter to rafe (she's basically every man's dream and woman's envy) and rafe falls HARD.

Suddenly, he's taking the reader out for a shopping spree, buying her jewelries, shoes, designer clothes, bags, and anything she wants. At first, the mother thought he was just being nice to her daughter until words got around on how he acts around her compare to how he acts around his wife (or not, could be married or just live in). And she started getting sus abt them and so on....

HOPEEE YOU'LL GIVE THIS A TAKE/CHANCE, IF NOT THEN IZZ OKAYYY LOVE YOU STILL 💌🩷!!

absolutely. ABSOLUTELY. GAHHHH!! ILY!!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ navigation. ੈ✩‧₊˚ masterlist *ੈ✩‧₊˚ series masterlist

Older!Rafe Cameron x Stepdaughter!Reader

warnings: eventual infidelity. eventual pseudo / stepcest. eventual smut. eventual toxic / abusive / violent behaviors. dark themes.

a/n: this is so hot idc im sorry. going to make this into a couple parts.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Rafe felt like the clock was ticking, that time was fading away and him along with it. He was in his late 30s now, just as handsome as ever but not getting any younger. His father was pushing him to settle down, have some kids. He needed to make a life for himself and build his own little family. So that’s exactly what he did, he went out and found himself the most primmed and proper Kook and made her his wife.

Rafe’s wife was beautiful, stunning even. She was just a couple years older than him but he didn’t mind. She was a socialite with a taste for status and luxury, both of which he could provide. He won’t lie, he actually really likes her. He loves her even. Not just physically but she can make him laugh, has a taste for the high-life like himself and the sex was good, satisfying. He immediately knew he could settle down with her so he decided to, and it didn’t take much convincing on his part. She loved how handsome he was, his acclaimed status in Kildare and fuck was he loaded. In just a few months the two were quickly throwing an engagement party and a small beach wedding attended by their closet friends and family which happens to be the other Kook’s of Kildare. They were happy together, and love was quickly building.

The newlyweds quickly settled into Tannyhill which Ward left to them as a wedding present and began their new lives together. Life was good, he was flying high with a beautiful wife that was ready to build a legacy and family with him. Rafe felt like everything was going smoothly until she dropped a fucking bomb on him. “A daughter?! You have a fucking daughter?!” He shouted, shock evident on his features as his face reddened with anger and betrayal. Why the fuck would she keep this from him? “I’m sorry Rafe, listen-“ she was quickly cut off by him storming out of the room, following him along like a scorned puppy looking for validation from their owner. Her lips downturned at his attitude while he scowled sitting on their couch, laying his head in his hands as he breathed heavily.

“She’s 19. I had her when I was a teenager when some tour-on came. I-I quickly gave up the rights to her father which is who she’s been living with since she was a baby in Los Angeles.” She spoke calmly, moving stealthily as she gently sat next to him. She took his hands in hers and forced him to look in her eyes as she continue to speak. The two staring each other down as she continued on, “I’ve sent her child support and a card every year. But.. she just told me her father passed away. She’s got no one Rafe, he was her only family and now I’m her only family. I’ve neglected my little girl for so many years and now that I’m in a situation where I can fully help her out I want too. My family was ashamed of her, I was ashamed. But I’m almost 40 an-and I don’t want to regret not knowing my daughter or my daughter not knowing her mother. Please honey, she needs me. She needs us.” She finished, tears streaming down her cheeks as she moved to cup his face. Looking at him with despair as Rafe sighed and shut his eyes tightly, opening them back up with resolve swirling in them.

“Okay,” he sighed, cupping her face in his hand and give her lips soft pecks as she moved to curl her hands into his white button up. Relaxing into him immediately and looking into his eyes with love as he told her, “she can come live with us.” Joy sparked in her eyes as she gripped him in a tight hug, a series of ‘thank yous!’ falling from her filled lips as she jumped up and reached for her phone. “I’m going to call her, she’ll be so excited. Oh honey, you won’t regret this! I promise!” She bent down to give him one last big smooch as he smiled at her and watched her scurry away with the phone to her ear.

Little did she know he wouldn’t regret it, but she would.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

a/n: i know this is so short but i want to build it aup! if i should continue this on let me know! also if you’d like to be added to a taglist pls also lmk! ENJOY!!!

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter One

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"! Let's pretend Rafe, Sarah, and John B. had a good relationship in this one, okay?

Masterlist: Here

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, the shrill ring cutting through the early evening quiet. You were in the middle of folding laundry, your small apartment illuminated by the fading sunlight streaming through the windows. It was a peaceful, mundane moment—until it wasn’t.

You wiped your hands on a towel before glancing at the screen. Unknown Number. Normally, you’d let it go to voicemail, but something about the pit forming in your stomach made you swipe to answer.

“Hello?”

“Is this [Y/N]?” a man’s voice asked, calm but with an edge that made your chest tighten.

“Yes, this is she. Who’s calling?”

“This is Officer Langley with the Outer Banks Police Department. I... I’m afraid I have some difficult news.”

The world around you seemed to blur. You clutched the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white. “What happened?”

“There’s been an accident,” he said. “Sarah Cameron and John B. Routledge were involved in a car collision earlier this evening. Neither survived. You were one of their emergency contact.”

The words didn’t make sense. They felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else’s story. Your knees buckled, and you stumbled to the couch, sinking into the cushions.

“What about Willa, the daughter?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

There was a pause, and then, “She’s unharmed. The baby was with a sitter at the time. But there’s... another matter we need to discuss.”

You barely heard the rest of his explanation, your mind spinning with the weight of what he’d just told you. Sarah and John B. were gone. Gone.

When the officer mentioned the will, your thoughts screeched to a halt. “I don’t understand,” you said, your voice hoarse. “What do you mean ‘co-guardian’?”

“They named you and Rafe Cameron, her brother, as Willa’s legal guardians,” the officer repeated.

The line went quiet as you tried to process the impossibility of his words. Rafe Cameron? The same Rafe who couldn’t string together a week of good decisions if his life depended on it?

“Is... is he aware of this?” you managed.

“We’ve been trying to reach him. He’s next on my list.”

As if on cue, somewhere across town, Rafe Cameron was staring at his own buzzing phone with a mix of irritation and curiosity. The caller ID was unfamiliar, and he let it ring a few extra times before finally swiping to answer.

“Who is this?” he barked, already annoyed.

“Mr. Cameron, this is Officer Langley with the Outer Banks Police Department. I need to inform you—”

“If this is about the stupid noise complaint, I wasn’t even here last night,” Rafe interrupted, pacing his living room.

“It’s not about that.” The officer’s tone was grave, and Rafe froze mid-step.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s been an accident. Your sister, Sarah, and her partner, John B., were involved in a fatal car crash earlier this evening.”

Rafe’s mouth went dry. He sank onto the edge of the couch, gripping the phone so tightly it felt like it might crack. “What... what do you mean, ‘fatal’?”

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” the officer continued, his voice gentle. “They didn’t survive the collision.”

Rafe’s world tilted. His first instinct was disbelief—this had to be a mistake. But the silence that followed the officer’s words told him otherwise.

“And the baby?” Rafe asked after a long pause, his voice low and strained.

“Willa is safe. She wasn’t with them during the accident,” the officer said. “But there’s something else. According to their will, you and Ms. [Y/N] are named as her co-guardians.”

“What?” Rafe snapped, his disbelief quickly giving way to anger. “That can’t be right. Why would they do that?”

“You’ll need to meet with us to discuss the next steps,” the officer said. “I’ll send over the details.”

Rafe barely heard the rest of the conversation before the call ended. He dropped the phone onto the couch beside him, running both hands through his hair as his mind raced.

Co-guardian? With her?

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed again, this time with a text from Rafe. His message was short and sharp:

“We need to talk. Now.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next few hours blurred into a painful haze. You and Rafe found yourselves sitting in the cramped office of the Outer Banks Police Department, a thin folder containing Sarah and John B.'s will resting on the table between you.

The room smelled of coffee and stale air, and the fluorescent lighting above only made everything feel more surreal. You glanced at Rafe from the corner of your eye. He was stiff in the chair beside you, his jaw clenched, eyes red-rimmed but steely.

Officer Langley sat across from you, his expression carefully neutral. Beside him was a lawyer, a sharp-eyed woman in a navy suit who looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

“The will is clear,” the lawyer said, her tone crisp and no-nonsense. “Ms. [Y/N] and Mr. Cameron are the appointed co-guardians of Willa Routledge. In the event of Sarah Cameron and John B. Routledge’s passing, the two of you are to assume all parental responsibilities.”

Rafe let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, that’s great. But let’s be real, you think either of us is qualified to raise a kid?”

“You don’t have a choice,” the lawyer replied without missing a beat. “Unless you want to contest the will, which would result in Willa being placed in temporary foster care until the matter is resolved.”

“No,” you said immediately, your voice firmer than you expected. “That’s not happening.”

Rafe shot you a glance, his eyes narrowing. “And what exactly do you think is going to happen here? You think we’re just gonna team up and play house?”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. “This isn’t about us, Rafe. It’s about Willa. She needs stability, and we’re all she’s got.”

Rafe rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Whatever. But don’t expect me to know what the hell I’m doing.”

The lawyer nodded, seemingly satisfied. “We’ll arrange for a formal meeting in a few days to finalize the transfer of guardianship. For now, Willa will remain with her current sitter until the two of you are ready to take her home.”

The word home hung heavy in the air, an impossible concept when everything felt so fractured.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The hours that followed were a whirlwind. After leaving the police department, you and Rafe were directed to the funeral home to begin arrangements for Sarah and John B.’s services.

Rafe took the lead, though it was clear the responsibility weighed on him. He stood stiffly in front of the funeral director, nodding silently as they walked through options for caskets, flowers, and the service itself.

“They’d want it simple,” Rafe muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Nothing flashy. Just... something that feels like them.”

You could see the cracks forming in his composure, the grief seeping through despite his best efforts to hold it together.

“I’ll handle the guest list,” you offered softly, hoping to lighten his load in any way you could.

He nodded but didn’t look at you. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice tight.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Later, you found yourself sitting in the corner of the funeral home’s waiting area, scrolling through your phone to contact people who needed to know. It was an exhausting task, one that made the reality of the situation sink deeper with every call.

Rafe was pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. From the snippets of his conversation, you guessed he was calling his father, Ward.

“No, Dad, I’ve got it under control,” Rafe said, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I don’t need you coming down here and making it about you. Just... send what you need to send and stay out of it.”

The conversation ended with Rafe tossing his phone onto a nearby chair and sitting down heavily. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a physical force.

“She didn’t deserve this,” Rafe said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked over at him, surprised by the rawness in his tone. His head was in his hands, and for the first time, he looked utterly broken.

“No,” you agreed softly. “She didn’t. Neither of them did.”

Rafe didn’t respond, and you didn’t push. Grief was a strange, solitary thing, and you knew better than to try to force him to share it.

But as you sat there in the quiet, Willa’s face flashed in your mind—those wide, innocent eyes that didn’t yet understand what she’d lost. And you realized that no matter how fractured things were between you and Rafe, you’d have to find a way to piece them together. For her.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The morning of the funeral was gray and cold, the sky heavy with clouds that mirrored the weight in your chest. The Outer Banks, usually vibrant and alive, seemed subdued, as if the island itself were mourning.

You stood at the back of the small church, clutching Willa to your chest. She was dressed in a tiny black dress that Sarah had once bought “just in case,” her soft curls pinned back with a white bow. She didn’t understand what was happening, her chubby hands reaching for your necklace as if this were just another day.

But it wasn’t.

The pews were packed with people from all corners of the island—friends, family, neighbors, even people who barely knew Sarah and John B. Everyone had come to say goodbye.

At the front of the church, two caskets stood side by side, draped in simple white flowers. The sight of them made your stomach churn, a wave of nausea rolling over you as the reality hit again. They were gone.

Rafe sat in the front row, his shoulders hunched, his hands gripping the edges of the pew. He was flanked by Ward and Rose, both of whom looked perfectly composed, their grief hidden behind practiced masks. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger toward them—toward Ward, especially. How could he sit there so calm when Sarah, his daughter, was gone?

The service began with soft hymns, the sound of the organ filling the air. The pastor spoke of love, loss, and legacy, his voice steady but kind. He shared stories of Sarah’s infectious smile and John B.’s unyielding spirit, painting a picture of the lives they’d led and the love they’d left behind.

When it came time for eulogies, Rafe surprised you by standing. He adjusted his tie awkwardly, clearing his throat as he approached the podium.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring out at the crowd, his usual bravado nowhere to be found.

“Sarah wasn’t just my sister,” he began, his voice hoarse. “She was my anchor. She kept me grounded, even when I didn’t deserve it. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

He paused, his eyes glistening. “And John B.? He was... he was family. He took care of Sarah, made her happy in a way I couldn’t. He was my brother, even if I never said it out loud.”

His voice cracked, and he gripped the edges of the podium tightly, trying to steady himself. “They didn’t deserve this. They had so much left to give. But... they left us Willa. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure she knows how amazing her parents were.”

Rafe stepped back, his head bowed, and you felt an unexpected lump rise in your throat. For all his flaws, his grief was real, and it was impossible not to feel the depth of his pain.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After the service, the crowd filtered out to the cemetery, where Sarah and John B. would be laid to rest. The air was heavy with the sound of muffled sobs and the soft rustle of the breeze through the trees.

You stood a little apart from the others, bouncing Willa gently to keep her calm. Rafe was nearby, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, his expression unreadable.

As the caskets were lowered into the ground, you felt an ache so deep it seemed to hollow you out. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t wipe them away. Grief deserved space, and today, there was nothing to do but let it exist.

When the ceremony ended, Rafe approached you, his face pale and drawn. He hesitated for a moment before gesturing to Willa.

“Can I hold her?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You nodded, carefully passing her over. She went willingly, her small hands gripping the lapels of his coat. For a moment, Rafe just stared at her, his features softening in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“She looks like Sarah,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“She does,” you agreed, watching as Willa rested her head against his chest.

In that moment, standing beside the fresh graves of the people you both loved, it became clear that nothing about this would be easy. But as you looked at Rafe holding Willa, you realized that maybe—just maybe—there was hope. For her, you would find a way.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few hours after the funeral, the weight of the day still hung heavy in the air as you and Rafe sat in the conference room of the law office. The small table between you seemed to represent the chasm that had always existed between you two—now more evident than ever.

The lawyers—two of them now, both stern-faced and clearly used to handling the messier sides of life—sat across from you, speaking in professional tones about the formalities. Child services was represented by a no-nonsense woman in her mid-forties who seemed to take notes every time either of you shifted in your seat.

Willa, still in your arms, had drifted off to sleep, her tiny breath soft against your chest. She had no idea that her life was being turned upside down today.

“Everything seems to be in order,” one of the lawyers said, flipping through the paperwork in front of him. “Guardianship has been transferred to both of you as per the will, and now, we just need to finalize arrangements for Willa’s immediate care.”

Rafe, who had been largely silent up until this point, suddenly leaned forward. His sharp eyes met the lawyer’s, and his jaw tightened as he spoke.

“We’ll be taking Willa home with us today. Both of us,” he said firmly, his tone brokering no argument.

The child services worker, Ms. Anderson, looked up from her notepad, her brow furrowed. “Mr. Cameron, I understand the circumstances, but we would like to ensure that both of you are prepared for the responsibility of guardianship. Willa’s safety and well-being are paramount. It’s important to assess—”

“I’m prepared,” Rafe cut her off, his voice cold and final. “I’m not asking, I’m telling you. She stays with me.”

The room went quiet for a beat as Ms. Anderson studied him. You could see the flicker of concern in her eyes as she turned to you, silently asking for your input.

You hesitated. Part of you was reluctant to let Willa stay in that house, with Rafe—the person who had been nothing but trouble for years. But the other part of you knew that, for better or worse, you didn’t have many options. You were in this with him now, and if he was willing to take on that responsibility, you couldn’t exactly argue against it.

“She’ll stay with me, too,” you added softly, catching Rafe’s eye. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to let her stay alone with you, not yet.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened again, but this time, there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes. A flicker of understanding. “Fine. We’ll take her. But we’re doing this together. It’s not just your decision, [Y/N].”

You didn’t argue with him. He was right. This wasn’t just your choice anymore. You shared the responsibility, whether you liked it or not.

Ms. Anderson nodded, taking notes. “We’ll have to conduct an assessment in the next few days, and I’ll be following up regularly. But for now, if both of you are in agreement, Willa can go with you.”

Rafe stood abruptly, crossing the room and grabbing the folder of documents from the lawyer’s desk. “Good. Let’s get this over with.”

As he turned to leave, the lawyer called after him. “Mr. Cameron, please ensure that you maintain contact with child services for further evaluations.”

Rafe gave a terse nod without looking back.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The drive to the Cameron estate was a tense one, the silence thick with unspoken thoughts. You sat in the passenger seat, holding Willa close, her tiny body pressed against you as she slept. Rafe drove, his grip on the steering wheel tight as he focused on the road, the sound of the engine and the occasional rustle of Willa’s breath filling the quiet.

When you pulled up to the house, it felt like a different world. The sprawling estate loomed ahead, the grand, cold structure seeming to mock the chaos of the day. You could feel the heaviness of the house before you even stepped inside. It was too big, too empty. It had always been a symbol of something Rafe wanted, something that didn���t fit with the life you’d grown up with.

But now, it was where Willa was going to stay.

“Welcome home,” Rafe muttered as he parked the car and cut the engine.

You weren’t sure if he meant it sarcastically, or if there was something real underneath the bitterness.

He led the way up the stone steps, unlocking the front door with a swipe of his key. The house felt colder inside, and Willa shifted in your arms as the air conditioned chill wrapped around you. Rafe glanced over his shoulder.

“I’m not leaving her with you alone,” you said firmly, setting Willa down into the nearby high chair as you followed him further into the house. “You’re going to need help. You’re not capable of just doing this on your own.”

Rafe gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Yeah, no kidding. I never said I was. But if she’s gonna be here, she’s staying in this house. So you’ll just have to suck it up.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel in this house with him—this house that was too much like a battlefield, and not enough like a home. But there was no escaping it now. You were stuck here together, as guardians. You took a deep breath and tried not to let the tension eat away at you.

For Willa.

"She’s still a baby," you murmured, brushing a stray curl from Willa’s face. "This isn’t about us. We need to figure it out for her."

Rafe didn’t respond, but he didn’t argue, either. He just stood there, watching you with that same unreadable look he always had. But for the first time, there was a sliver of uncertainty behind it.

And for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was a chance, however small, that you and Rafe might actually pull this off.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part7

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: mentioning fighting, blood

Selly’s note: Once again, english isn’t my first language🫣🥺 I’m sorry if there’s mistakes💗

previous - next

You held your mother’s hand, trying to take deep breaths. Some days were unbearable. Scents alone could ruin your entire day. But then there were the good days, when everything felt just a bit easier, and the smells didn’t seem as overwhelming—they were perfect.

Those were the days when life felt like a rainbow stretching across your world, as if you could eat a thousand candies and never gain a pound. Pure joy, like the kind you felt as a child, when the weight of the world didn’t exist.

Luckily, today was one of those better days. The nausea was minimal—just the usual discomfort you’d gotten used to. The smells didn’t bother you much. Even when you were mildly irritated, you managed to brush it off.

Excitement hummed in your chest. Today wasn’t just any routine check-up—it was the day you’d find out the baby’s gender.

There weren’t many people you wanted with you for this moment. You didn’t even have to ask your mom; of course, she’d be there. 

She’d softened her approach lately, you could tell. Regret lingered in her initial reactions, and she was trying to be kinder now. Even though she still thought it was early days, she had been making an effort to meet you where you were.

“You okay, sweetheart?” she asked, her voice full of concern. You nodded, your hand instinctively resting on your stomach. 

“Just… feeling a little overwhelmed,” you admitted. She nodded in understanding, reaching out to clasp your hand in both of hers. Her smile was warm, genuine. “It’s going to be okay, I promise,” she reassured you. 

Her arm wrapped around your shoulders, and as she pulled you close, a calmness settled over you. She placed a kiss on your temple, and for a moment, you believed her.

Three months and a week in. By all calculations, this was the perfect time to find out the baby’s gender.

You hated the smell of the hospital. But today, you were grateful it wasn’t making you nauseous.

“Shall we begin?” Dr. Hart’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned your head quickly, your grip on your mother’s hand tightening. You nodded, signaling that you were ready.

Letting go of her hand, you raised your shirt to reveal your belly. When Dr. Hart handed you a tissue to protect your clothes, you tucked it into the waistband of your shorts without hesitation.

“Alright,” the doctor said calmly, holding up the bottle of gel. “This might feel a bit cold. Let’s take a look, shall we?”

You nodded again, and when the gel touched your skin, a shiver ran through you. The coldness was sharp, but it was soon replaced by the gentle pressure of the ultrasound wand. 

Your eyes drifted to the ceiling, trying to center yourself. Why were you so nervous? Finding out the gender made everything feel so much more real, so much more permanent. It was overwhelming, this responsibility. But it was yours to bear. New beginnings were always scary—this was no different. You would adjust. You had to.

The sound of a heartbeat filled the room, breaking through your racing thoughts. Your gaze shot from the ceiling to the monitor. 

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” Dr. Hart said with a smile, adjusting the screen to show the grainy black-and-white image.

Your hands were clammy as you stared at the monitor. You tightened your grip on your mother’s hand, trying to steady your breathing. 

It was real. The heartbeat was steady, strong, undeniable. There was a life inside you. Your baby.

The thought hit you like a wave, leaving you momentarily breathless. Tears threatened, but you didn’t have the energy to cry. You just… marveled. It was surreal. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as you tilted your head back. 

Your mother’s touch in your hair reminded you of her presence. When you opened your eyes, her face was full of joy, her gaze bouncing between you and the screen. Her smile widened when your eyes met, and it was contagious—you smiled back, despite yourself.

“It’s beautiful,” your mom whispered, her voice blending with the rhythmic sound of the heartbeat. Dr. Hart chuckled softly, nodding in agreement as she continued to examine the screen. “It really is.”

You couldn’t speak. You simply nodded, your focus glued to the tiny movements on the monitor. A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed hard, determined not to cry. Not from sadness this time—this was happiness.

Dr. Hart gestured at the screen, her voice warm and steady. “Everything looks great so far—healthy growth, perfect positioning. And, if you’d like, I can tell you the gender today.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and without thinking, you nodded eagerly. “Yes,” you blurted out. The word spilled from your lips before you could stop it. You wanted to know with all your heart.

You hadn’t even had the time to think about what you wanted. You’d been so focused on the future, on survival, that you hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine this moment. But now, it was here.

“I want to know.”

You didn’t care whether it was a boy or a girl. Healthy was all that mattered. Though, deep down, you couldn’t deny the hope—one you didn’t even want to admit to yourself—that the baby wouldn’t resemble him. You didn’t want the reminder.

You glanced at your mom. Her smile was wide and reassuring, her joy as infectious as ever. You were grateful for her presence. You wished your dad could have been there too, but he was out of town. He’d wanted to come, truly, but work had kept him away.

Still, you appreciated the support they both offered in their own ways. It felt like, for once, life was on your side. You’d prayed for this, and it was happening.

Dr. Hart’s smile grew as she studied the screen. “Congratulations—it looks like you’re having a baby girl.”

Your mother’s delighted squeal filled the room. She practically jumped in place, still holding your hand, her laughter bubbling over. “I knew it! I knew it! My baby’s baby!”

It took you a moment to process her words. A shaky breath escaped your lips as tears welled in your eyes. Your mom’s kisses rained down on your hair, her joy boundless.

A baby girl. 

Your little girl.

You remembered your mom jokingly wishing you’d have a child just like you—and now, it seemed, that wish was coming true. You couldn’t stop smiling, even as the weight of the realization settled over you. 

Could you handle being a mom? You’d spent so much time worrying about that, you’d never let yourself imagine this moment. But now, all you could see were the possibilities—her eyes, her laugh, the moments you’d share together. It felt so real. So close.

Your mom met your gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She nodded at you, her expression full of pride and love. Her hands cradled your face as she whispered, “She’ll be as strong as you.” 

The kiss she pressed to your forehead was soft, and you breathed deeply, letting yourself feel the comfort of that moment. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself relax. You silently thanked the heavens for this moment, for this peace that felt untouchable. Maybe all you needed was to hear your baby’s heartbeat, to know she was thriving. 

The steady rhythm of her heart in the background seemed to remind you: no matter how scared you were, you weren’t alone in this.

“She’s very healthy,” Dr. Hart said with a smile, handing you a cloth to clean off the gel. You quickly wiped your stomach, your heart full to bursting.

Your hands trembled as the reality sank in. It was almost too much to believe—like you might wake up and find it was all a dream. But you didn’t want to wake up. You didn’t want to lose this happiness.

With your mom’s hand on your back, you left the hospital, your heart lighter than it had been in months. There was a long road ahead, but for now, you let yourself feel the joy. You climbed into the car, the journey ahead—boats and drives—barely crossing your mind. All you knew was that you’d take every step with a heart full of hope.

You had decided the mainland would be a safer option than the island for a hospital visit like this. It was still the right choice for you. Even if the journey was a bit complicated, it felt secure, and you actually enjoyed it. 

This way, everything would be better. 

When your mother started the car, you fastened your seatbelt. As your eyes roamed the surroundings, you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful the area was. The idea of building a new life here wasn’t far-fetched; it was starting to feel right. 

You couldn't stop imagining all the moments you’d share with your little girl here. A smile crept across your lips as you glanced at a park you were passing. You watched mothers interacting with their children, and the thought of being one of them someday filled you with peace. Knowing that one day you’d be the one playing there with your daughter—it was priceless. 

The car slowed down, and your mother gestured ahead. “What do you think about something with a little garden?” she asked, pointing to a row of cottages along the road. “She could run around, and maybe someday we’d even set up a swing.” Her voice was cheerful; she was enjoying the thought as much as you were. You couldn’t help but giggle as your eyes wandered over the homes. 

“They look cute,” you said, examining them while your mother nodded quickly, as though she already had the whole thing planned out. 

“Don’t they?” she said with enthusiasm. You nodded, starting to believe this really was the perfect place to build a future. 

“And it’s a great school district. I’m sure you’ll be comfortable here. There’s even a park nearby,” she added. Her excitement made you laugh uncontrollably. 

“Mom, she’s not even born yet,” you reminded her with a chuckle, feeling like she might start saving for college any moment now. 

Your mom rolled her eyes, laughing as you instinctively placed a hand on your belly. 

“I’m just saying, sweetheart—there’s no harm in planning ahead,” she said warmly. 

You kept smiling as you took in the sight of the houses. It was comforting, thinking about your unborn child’s future. Dreaming about her, imagining what life here could be like. The idea of leaving all your bad memories behind felt so good. 

Starting fresh in a place where your daughter could grow up far away from the island—away from everyone there—felt right. You liked the thought of not needing to look perfect or hold everything together for others. 

There was something about this place. The energy here felt brighter, livelier than the island. The trees seemed greener, the streets cleaner, the homes more charming, the people kinder. 

When you reached the marina, you watched your mom park the car. Stepping out, you took a deep breath of the fresh air that hit your face. 

You just knew you loved it here. You realized you wanted to stay a little longer, to explore the area, imagining the memories you could create with your daughter. You wanted to dream about those moments, even though they hadn’t happened yet. 

You were so excited that you found yourself questioning if it was all real. 

As your mom walked toward the dock, you turned around for one last look at the place. No. This wouldn’t be the last time you came here. You felt like you had a lifetime to spend in this place. It seemed better in every way. 

It felt like a place where you wouldn’t hesitate to step outside. Even now, the thought of returning to the island brought a heaviness to your chest, as though you were stepping into a dark tunnel. But here, every moment felt bright. 

The idea of a home sounded nice—quiet, steady, hers. 

Settling beside your mom, you took in the salty sea air. Neither of you spoke much. Instead, you both savored the evening sun and the soothing sound of the waves. 

It had been an unusually tiring day. You hadn’t done much, but your whole body ached. The warmth of the sun paired with the cool breeze created the perfect balance, lulling you into a drowsy state. 

You didn’t even notice when your eyes drifted shut. But the slight pressure on your arm woke you, making you realize you’d arrived back at the island. 

You stretched out your arms and unlinked them. “You can sleep at home, sweetheart. Come on,” your mom said softly. Rubbing your eyes and straightening your clothes, you followed her. Your steps were sluggish as you trailed behind her. You just wanted to get home and sleep until you couldn’t anymore. 

If you could, you’d ask them to leave you alone for 24 hours so you could sleep. 

As you got back into the car with your mom, you let out a sigh. Normally, you enjoyed road trips, but this time, it felt unbearable. You just wanted to be in your bed—where you belonged. You deserved some rest. After all, you were a pregnant woman. 

“Do you think I should move?” 

You didn’t know where the question came from. You were just full of doubts. 

Your mom took her eyes off the road for a second to glance at you, her eyebrows raised. “Well,” she said, taking a deep breath as she focused back on driving. Reaching over, she took your hand. “If it’ll make you feel better.” 

Looking at your hand in hers, you took a deep breath. The sky had grown darker. You leaned your head against the window, fear stirring in your chest. You wanted so badly to move, but there was a part of you that was scared. “What if I don’t feel good there?” 

Your mom gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, her voice steady and warm. “Then you come back. We’ll figure it out. We’ll keep trying until we find where you feel right.” 

You lifted your head from the window to look at her, meeting her gaze. There was a tender smile on her face. 

“Don’t think for a second that our doors will ever be closed to you. Never. If you decide it’s not the right place—even if it’s your first day—you’ve got a home to come back to. Always.” 

Warmth flooded your chest. Hearing her say that was invaluable. You knew they wouldn’t turn you away, but still, it felt good to hear. You wanted this new place so badly. But what if it didn’t turn out to be what you’d imagined? 

“I’m scared,” you whispered. 

“There’s no need to be. You’ve got this. And you’ve got me,” she said, her voice filled with quiet determination, as if willing you to believe in yourself. 

“We’ll do this whenever you’re ready. There’s no rush.” You nodded, unable to summon the strength to say more. 

The car ride was quiet at first. You stared out the window, watching the scenery blur by—cypress trees swaying in the wind, the ocean sparkling in the distance. 

The silence in the car wasn’t unsettling. There was a familiar comfort in her mother’s presence. The steady hum of the engine and the slight vibration of the wheels grounded her as her thoughts wandered. 

Your eyes drifted to the trees along the roadside, their trunks illuminated in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. It felt as though they were whispering to you. 

Your hand instinctively went to your belly. There was a life there—tiny, but growing each day. The thought warmed her, but it also terrified you.

Your mother broke the silence with a gentle tone. “You know,” she began, “do you want to know what I felt when I found out I was pregnant with you?” 

The question caught you off guard. Your mother rarely shared memories like this, but her voice invited her in. “Were you scared?” you asked softly. 

Her mother smiled faintly, nodding. “Oh, terrified. I was a mess. But at the same time, there was this… hope. Like everything in my life suddenly had meaning. And that hope—it makes you strong.” 

Your chest tightened. You turned your gaze back to the window, swallowing hard. “What if I make mistakes?” you whispered, voice barely audible. 

Your mom smiled, her voice rich with love. “You will make mistakes. We all do. But that little one? She’ll love you through them. Because you’re her mom.” 

Tears pricked your eyes, though they didn’t fall. Her throat felt tight. The words your mom said so easily now felt like the most precious truths in the world. 

“Still…” you said. “Should I stay here? On the island? Or somewhere else?” The question tumbled out again, as if you couldn’t stop yourself. You felt like no matter how many times she heard the answer, you’d always feel uncertain. 

Your mom paused for a moment before responding with a thoughtful expression. “If being here makes you happy, stay. If you’re somewhere else and happy, stay there. But remember this—home isn’t about the house. You build a home with love, with patience. That little one just needs you to be there.” 

Your eyes filled with tears you wouldn’t shed. Somehow, your mom’s words made everything feel possible and terrifying all at once. You nodded quietly, letting the weight of your mother’s wisdom settle into your heart. 

With those words, a bit of the tightness within you seems to ease. You glance down at the hand resting on your stomach, and in that moment, your mother’s words give you a small surge of strength.

You hated the suffocating sense of dread that settled over you the moment you stepped onto this stupid island. It felt like the shadows themselves were closing in on you, draining you of air. Like you were already drowning.

As the car entered the narrow roads, the headlights bounced off cracked concrete walls and the weathered faces of old buildings. Your mom gripped the steering wheel tightly, swerving carefully to avoid potholes. The world outside was unnervingly quiet, as if everyone had retreated into their homes, leaving the streets deserted for just the two of you. The faint hum of the radio played in the background, but the silence in the car was far deeper.

You stared out the window, though your thoughts were miles away from the neighborhood outside. Your eyes darted around, catching fleeting glimpses of the world beyond the glass—until something stirred in your peripheral vision.

Something didn’t sit right. Instinctively, you felt it. As if—something was off. “Mom, slow down,” you said, your voice startled but firm.

“I’m not going that fast, sweetheart.” No, it wasn’t about speed. Something was wrong. If you didn’t look back, you thought you might pass out.

“Mom, stop the car.” Your tone was laced with urgency now.

“What is it?” she asked, glancing at you but not slowing down.

“Just stop the car!” you snapped, sharper this time, your eyes still glued to the figure outside. “Please.” At last, your mom hit the brakes.

Your gaze didn’t waver. You recognized that face—though it was barely visible under the dim light. Even if blood and shadows obscured it, you knew. That stupid hair. Those dumb clothes. That ridiculous boot.

“What’s going on?” your mom asked, but you were already opening your door.

“I think I know him.”

You didn’t just think it. Deep down, you were certain. You couldn’t make out his face clearly, but even his posture screamed it was him.

You moved quickly, rounding the back of the car as you heard the distant creak of your mom’s door opening. She called your name, but you didn’t turn around.

Maybe you didn’t catch his attention at first, but something must’ve tipped him off. His head lifted. Your eyes met. And deep down, you already knew.

You’d recognize that stupid mop of hair from a mile away.

JJ was slumped against a wall, looking seconds away from collapsing entirely. One shoulder drooped awkwardly, and his clothes were soaked in blood. When his blue eyes finally noticed you, they weren’t like you remembered. They were dull. Tired.

Your steps quickened, a tight knot of anxiety building in your chest. The first time you’d met him, he’d nearly looked like this too. But not this bad. And now, things were different. You were—friends, kind of.

“JJ.” His name left your lips as you reached him. He smiled faintly, head sagging as you caught him. “What happened?” Panic seeped into your voice.

He looked awful.

His brow was split open, clothes torn to shreds. Bruises—dark and ugly—lined his neck. It was terrifying.

“You should see the other—” he mumbled before his knees buckled. You held him tighter, feeling your mom approach from behind. You shot her a pleading look.

“Mom, we need to get him to a hospital.”

Before she could reply, JJ groaned, attempting to wriggle free. He stumbled. He couldn’t even stand straight, yet he was fighting like a fool.

“I’m fine! I’m fine.”

Was he serious? He could barely walk. His clothes were drenched in blood, bruises painted across his face, and he thought he was fine?

Was he trying to insult your intelligence?

“You’re clearly not. Mom, help me. We’re taking him to the hospital.” But when you tried to steady him again, he jerked back, collapsing onto the pavement. He sprawled there, motionless, eyes shut.

“No. Absolutely not. I said I’m fine.” His voice was barely audible, slurred. Fine? He was out of his mind.

Your mom called your name, snapping you out of it. Her expression was a mix of confusion and worry. “Who is this? A friend of yours?” she asked, still processing the scene.

“Yes,” you answered curtly, sparing no details. Stepping closer to JJ, you hesitated, noticing blood trickling down his shirt. The sight made your stomach churn. You weren’t going to stand there and watch him bleed out in the middle of the street.

Behind you, your mom spoke again. “What happened to him? Is he hurt? We can’t leave him like this.”

JJ shook his head weakly, mumbling to himself, “No… just leave me. I’m fine.” His voice was so faint it was barely there. None of it made sense.

“There’s no fine here!” you snapped, your voice harsher now. Even your mom seemed startled. But this wasn’t just for him—it was for her too. “I’m not leaving him.”

Your mom hesitated, then nodded slowly. She didn’t know JJ, but she didn’t need to recognize him to figure out he was a Pogue. “Okay,” she said, her resolve breaking. “Let’s get him to the car. We can’t leave him like this.”

JJ tried protesting one last time, his half-lidded gaze barely focusing on you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared of him passing out—or worse. He looked wrecked. “Fine. But no hospitals. Just...no.”

You exhaled sharply. He wasn’t going to move unless you agreed. Finally, you closed your eyes, exasperated. He was killing you with this stubbornness. He needed help, and yet he was making demands. “Shit— okay.”

This time, he didn’t fight. Carefully, you draped his arm over your shoulder, your mom supporting his other side. His weight dragged both of you down, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting him somewhere safe.

Once you got him into the car, you let out a shaky breath. You tried not to see it as some sort of personal moment. He’d helped you before, after all. The car was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and JJ’s shallow breaths. You glanced at him, his head resting against the window, eyes half-closed. You silently prayed he wouldn’t pass out.

“You didn’t have to pick me up,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. At least he was talking. That was something. You turned to him, your expression softening. “And you didn’t have to act invincible.”

Your mom hadn’t fully grasped the situation yet but started driving toward home. You, meanwhile, kept stealing glances at JJ in the rearview mirror.

-

To say you were worried would be an understatement—you were terrified.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like this. Months ago, when you’d first met, he’d been almost as bad. But back then, you didn’t know each other. You were practically strangers.

Now? Things were different. Seeing him like this shook you. It made you realize something. 

You considered him a friend.

He wasn’t just the guy who’d show up with supplies when you needed something. Somewhere along the way, you’d started to see him as someone close enough to share pieces of your life with.

Hell, he was one of the four people on this godforsaken island who knew you were pregnant.

You trusted him.

Seeing someone you know like this—bruised, battered, and barely holding on—how terrifying is that? 

For a moment, you genuinely thought he might have a brain hemorrhage. You’d tended to him, watched him slip into unconsciousness, and feared he wouldn’t wake up. He looked utterly wrecked.

You didn’t know what had happened. You hated the not knowing, especially because he never asked about you. All he’d ever inquired about was the baby—and even then, he’d respected your boundaries, letting you share only what you wanted. He hadn’t even asked if it was Rafe’s. He could’ve, but he didn’t.

But you couldn’t help your own curiosity. What had led him to this state? You wanted to know. And more than anything, you wanted it never to happen again. He was your… friend. At least, you thought so. He’d helped you as much as you’d helped him. 

The hospital was off the table—he made that crystal clear. So, you didn’t take him. But seeing him like this? It shook you. 

First, you gently cleaned the blood off his face and arm with a damp cloth. Then you patched up the gash above his brow. When you pulled his torn shirt off, your breath caught. His body was a patchwork of dark bruises, covering nearly every inch. You didn’t want to look too long—it felt intrusive, wrong even. 

It wasn’t like last week when he shamelessly changed his shirt in front of you. This was different. He was vulnerable, beaten, and unconscious. 

When his eyes fluttered open, you were leaning against the bathroom tiles, watching. His gaze was hazy, like he was trying to piece together where he was. Finally, his eyes locked onto you. They scanned you briefly, taking in the damp cloth in your hand, the bucket behind you, and the open first-aid kit on the floor. 

“You didn’t have to drag me here,” he muttered, his voice scratchy and low.

Still talking like an idiot. 

You avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the stubborn bloodstain on his forehead. “Right, because leaving you to bleed out on the street was the better option.”

He tried to smirk—of course, he did—but winced instead when you pressed the cloth a little too hard against his brow. You pulled back quickly, a flash of guilt crossing your face, but you didn’t apologize. 

“Do you always get yourself into this kind of trouble?” The question wasn’t even genuine. It was more of an observation. Every time you saw him, he was banged up. It was ridiculous. No one got into this many fights by accident. 

What if it hadn’t been you who found him? What if he’d collapsed? Hit his head? Then what? 

How could anyone be so damn reckless?

“All the time,” he said, his tone laced with smugness. It made you grit your teeth. Was he trying to kill himself, or was he just this dense?

You tended to his wounds in silence, simmering with a frustration you couldn’t quite place. Was it because you considered this idiot a friend? Or because this idiot had come dangerously close to getting himself killed tonight? 

When you were done, you began gathering up the dirty gauze and supplies. He shifted, trying to sit up. 

“If Nurse shift is over, I’ll be on my way now,” he said, gripping the edge of the tub for support. The first-aid kit slipped from your hands as you turned, catching him just before he fell over. 

“Yeah, about that—you’re not going anywhere.” 

His brows knitted together in defiance, but you shoved him back gently until he was sitting on the toilet. You needed him to stay put while you cleaned up. Like a dog told to sit and stay.

“You don’t get to decide that,” he snapped.

You threw the last piece of gauze into the trash, pointing a sharp finger at him. “Well, it looks like you can’t decide either. You can’t even walk straight. Stop being an idiot.”

He huffed and fell silent, though his scowl remained firmly in place. He might hate being told what to do, but you weren’t about to let him stumble back onto the street like this. You were better than that.

When you finished cleaning up, you walked over and tried to help him to his feet. Of course, he made it as difficult as possible, practically deadweight in your arms, until he finally relented and started cooperating. 

You led him to the guest room and helped him onto the bed. He smirked, gesturing to the large, king-sized mattress. “Nice digs. Didn’t know I rated five stars.”

You rolled your eyes, too tired to engage. He was infuriating sometimes, but there was no way you were kicking him out. Not in this state. He needed time to recover. 

“Don’t even think about sneaking out,” you warned, watching him settle into the bed. He didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling, a blank expression on his face. 

You waited for a sarcastic comeback, but none came. As you reached the door, you hesitated, glancing back at him. 

You hated yourself for it—for caring so damn much.

“Who did this?” 

When JJ finally opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, you heard him exhale deeply. If this was a Kook thing, you knew you could handle it. Hell, you’d even get your lawyer uncle involved if it came to that.

“It doesn’t matter.” His dismissive tone made you take a step closer, stopping about a meter from the bed with your arms crossed. All he had to do was say the word—accept a little help for once in his life. But of course, that wasn’t his style. JJ had to deal with things on his own. Always. 

“I can help—”

“You can’t help me!” He cut you off, raising his voice as he started to sit up. For a brief moment, you seriously considered shoving him back down into the mattress. Sometimes you hated him so much—

“Stuff like this happens to Pogues. It’s just how it is. You’re a Kook, so sit back and observe like you’re supposed to. Stop asking questions.” 

His words, paired with the attitude he wore like armor, had you rolling your eyes as you let out a bitter laugh. You paced the room, trying to shake off the frustration boiling under your skin.

“Always with this Kook-Pogue bullshit! Since when is helping someone in need such a crime? Was I supposed to leave you to die in the street?” 

JJ laughed then, sharp and manic, nodding as if you’d said the most logical thing in the world. “Yes! That’s exactly what you should’ve done! God, you’re so annoying. I can’t deal with you right now.”

And this is someone you called a friend. 

That motherfucker.

There wasn’t even a reason for him to be mad at you. You weren’t the one who’d beaten him up. You weren’t the one who put him in this position. You were just trying to help. But this was what happened when you cared for someone who didn’t deserve it. 

You stared at him, shaking your head. The disappointment you felt wasn’t just in him—it was in yourself. You’d gone so far as to consider this idiot your friend. It made you sick. 

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to see my annoying face anymore. I’m moving to the mainland, jerk.” Turning on your heel, you walked toward the door, ready to be done with this.

JJ could be… JJ. Sometimes that meant he lashed out at the wrong people, taking his anger out on those who didn’t deserve it. He hated showing weakness, hated sharing his struggles. Even though he knew you were only trying to help, he didn’t want you to see him like this. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be seen.

Hearing your name fall from his lips stopped you in your tracks. You turned back to face him, your expression unreadable. The anger that had burned in his eyes moments ago had vanished. He just looked…tired.

“I’m not running away.” His eyes met yours, and the ridiculousness of his statement was almost laughable. He should’ve been apologizing, but of course, he couldn’t even manage that.

“My dad. I’m mad at my dad, not you. I’m sorry. You’re not annoying—well, you are, but not in a way I can’t handle. And… thanks.” 

The words spilled out of him so fast that all you could do was nod in response. His constant mood swings—he had to be bipolar or something.

You thought about leaving the room. You hated him, you really did, but at the same time, you understood him. And you hated yourself even more for that. It made you want to throttle him.

You stepped closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving you. “If you ever yell at me like that again, I will bury you right here.” Your tone was sharp, dripping with warning. 

A faint smirk tugged at JJ’s lips as he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Stay awake for a while.” He nodded again, but his brows furrowed as he looked around the room.

“How? Is this some kind of anti-tech isolation chamber or something? There’s nothing here to keep me awake—besides you.”

You rolled your eyes, not in the mood to humor him. “Not a chance.”

JJ sighed dramatically, tossing his head back. You knew if you left, he’d fall asleep immediately. And there you stood by the door, arms crossed, debating what to do. His reckless attitude tested your patience more than you liked to admit. You didn’t even know why you were still here. You didn’t want to stay, but leaving him like this felt… wrong.

After the way he’d acted, he deserved every bit of the mess he was in. Honestly, he should’ve been thanking you for not shoving his smug attitude down his throat.

JJ let out a heavy sigh, still staring at the ceiling. “If you’re not leaving, at least hand me that bottle.” He nodded toward the water bottle on the nightstand.

You narrowed your eyes at him, not moving. “Who said I wasn’t leaving?” 

Your own bluntness surprised you, but JJ’s smirk only made you angrier. “Of course,” he said lightly, like it was nothing worth debating.

You couldn’t see yourself staying much longer. Not without wanting to strangle him. But as you turned, JJ cleared his throat.

“The mainland, huh? For the baby?” 

You wanted to yell at him, to throw his earlier anger right back in his face, but you were too tired. You just wanted this night to end. You’d already dealt with enough of his drama. 

“Yes. And by the way, it’s a girl.”

JJ turned to look at you, his eyebrows shooting up as a slow grin spread across his face. “Thank God. Nobody could survive a second Rafe Cameron.”

Normally, that comment would’ve pissed you off, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. He wasn’t wrong. One Rafe was bad enough—no one needed a second.

“If you need anything there, let me know,” he said. 

You nodded, knowing he meant it. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while. You realized then how hard it would be for him to stay awake with nothing to do in this empty room. If it were you, you’d have fallen asleep immediately. 

“So… wanna play games on my phone?”