#ex!dad rafe cameron

[estellesdoll]

31 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

⊹. 𝒅𝒂𝒚 15 : 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖧧 . ָ࣪    ִֶָ

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒆𝒙!𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𓄹 ࣪.𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𓄹 ࣪.𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𓄹 ࣪.𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𓄹 ࣪.𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

It’s Christmas morning, and the house smells like cinnamon and fresh pine. Liora sits cross-legged by the tree, her little hands busy arranging her new dollhouse furniture with quiet concentration. The soft hum of holiday music plays in the background, and you’re curled up on the couch, a mug of coffee warming your hands.

A knock at the door startles you, and Liora looks up, her big eyes curious. “Mommy, who is it?”

“I don’t know, baby,” you say softly, setting your mug down as you stand. “Stay here, okay?”

When you open the door, your breath catches. Rafe is standing there, bundled in a coat and scarf, his cheeks pink from the cold. Snowflakes cling to his hair, and in his hands is a large, brightly wrapped box with a gold bow. His gaze softens the moment he sees you, but there’s a nervous edge to his smile.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, voice quiet.

“Rafe,” you breathe, glancing back at the living room. “What are you—?”

“I wanted to see her,” he interrupts gently, his eyes darting past you. “Just for a little bit. I know it’s not my day, but… it’s Christmas. I couldn’t not come.”

You pause, emotions warring in your chest. Things between you two had been complicated—messy, even—but the sincerity in his expression, the hope, was impossible to ignore.

“Come in,” you say softly, stepping aside.

Rafe’s relief is visible as he steps inside, carefully setting the gift on the floor. His eyes immediately find Liora, and his whole face lights up. “Hey, princess,” he calls gently.

Liora gasps, jumping to her feet. “Daddy!”

She runs to him, throwing her arms around his legs, and he crouches down, scooping her into a warm hug. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“What’s that?” she asks, pointing at the giant box.

Rafe grins, his eyes flicking to yours for a brief moment. “A special present for my special girl. Wanna open it?”

Her face lights up as she nods, and he carries her to the couch, setting the box in front of her. You lean against the doorway, watching as she rips into the paper with uncontainable excitement.

Inside is a child-sized, pink-and-white play kitchen, complete with miniature pots, pans, and accessories. Liora squeals with delight, running her hands over the tiny appliances and pretending to turn the knobs on the stove.

“I can make cookies!” she exclaims, hopping up and down.

Rafe chuckles, his gaze soft. “Only if I get the first batch,” he teases, earning a giggle from her.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says, throwing her arms around his neck.

He holds her tightly, and then, almost shyly, he looks up at you. “There’s something for you, too,” he says quietly, pulling a smaller, neatly wrapped package from his coat pocket.

You unwrap the gift slowly, your heart racing for reasons you don’t want to admit. Inside is a silver bracelet with a delicate charm shaped like a star, its surface engraved with a date—the day Liora was born. It’s simple, but the meaning behind it hits you like a wave. The emotions flood you, and for a moment, you just stare at it in your hands, trying to keep your composure.

“Rafe…” you murmur, your voice catching in your throat.

He shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t take his eyes off you. “I know things aren’t easy between us,” he says, his tone quiet but sincere. “But I just wanted to give you something that shows I’m thinking of you... of both of you.”

𓄹 ࣪. like, reblog 𑁍 comment

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@estellesdoll

[willaminareads]

too busy

PARING: exhusband!drew x reader

SUMMARY: you and drew had been divorced for a little under a year now. while drew had your two kids this weekend, zach unfortunately let it slip, that mommy had a new "friend". drew was anything but thrilled.

WORD COUNT: 667 words

WARNINGS: possesive drew, angst, fluff, cursing, kids.

WILLA SPEAKS: hey! this is my first fic, on this blog, and i'm so excited!! please note that english is not my first language, so if any mistakes occur, i'm so sorry! enjoy<3

you stand outside his door, waiting for him to open it. you were a little nervous. you didn't exactly have a reason to be, but you were.

"y/n," drew says as he opens the door. "hi, baby, come in. the kids are in their playroom." he ushers you inside, hoping you didn't notice he let the nickname slip. old habits die hard.

you smile softly at the nickname but quickly stop once you notice. this is your ex. hell, not even just your ex—your ex-husband.

you follow him inside his new house. you liked it, though it did remind you of the house the two of you once shared.

"can i get you anything?" drew breaks the silence.

"you have tea?" you ask softly.

"the kettle is already on, sweetheart," he responds in the same soft tone. god, he knows me so well, you thought.

he finds a cup for you and starts preparing the tea. silence falls between you. it wasn't awkward per se, but not exactly pleasant either.

drew is the first to break the silence, still keeping all his attention on your tea. "zach says you've got a new friend." his tone is sharp, not at all soft like the one you'd heard just a couple of minutes ago.

a quiet "oh," was all you could muster up. you didn't know what to say. i mean, what could you say?

he turns his attention to you, handing you the cup of tea. "yeah, that was my reaction as well," he says bitterly.

you sigh. "come on, drew, don't do this." guilt written all over your face.

he lets out a dry laugh. "i didn't do shit, y/n."

"i'm allowed to move on, drew," you say softly, catching his gaze.

"the fuck you are," he sneers, placing his hands on the countertop. "i can't, so you don't get to either." his statement hangs in the air as you stare at each other.

you scoff. "no, you don't get to do this, drew. you fucked up. you didn't have time for us," you say, knowing how to hit him where it hurts.

"don't say that." he looks down, unable to meet your eyes.

"why not, drew? it's true," you state. "you were too busy with your big dreams, and, i mean, it worked out for you," you say, waving your arms slightly. "you have everything a man could want," you taunt.

"you know that's not true," he glares at you.

you shrug. "you can't have your cake and eat it too."

he scoffs at your comment. "right, okay. you're getting on my nerves, y/n," he bites. "you know how much i wanted to make this work. you know how much i love you—"

you cut him off. "loved."

"no, fuck that, and fuck you for saying it," he raises his voice at you. he doesn't do that often. "i'm sorry..." he takes a deep breath. "you know that i still love you. i just want another chance, y/n. let me show you that we can make this work," he says softly, reaching for your hand.

you shake your head at him. "we can't put the kids through another divorce, drew," you say softly.

"we won't," he says. "come on, y/n. we can make this work."

you sigh. "drew..."

"please," he says, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek.

"there's no new guy." drew stares at you, a little confused, waiting for you to continue. "that friend zach says he saw me with?" drew nods along. "it was chase."

"chase? as in my co-star chase?" drew asks, utterly confused.

"yeah... he and maddie came by to help me build a dresser." you bite your lip, your nerves taking over your body.

"oh," he falls silent.

"drew?" you ask.

"so, no new guy?" he asks with a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

"no new guy." you confirm.

"so... do you wanna marry me again..?" he asks.

"drew!" you exclaim with laughter as you smack his arm.

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

YOU BELONG WITH ME

Word Count: 5.2K

Pairing(s): Reader x Ex!boyfriend Jason, Reader x New dad!Matt, Reader x Rafe

Warnings: Flirting, Kissing, Swearing, Virginity Loss, Domestic Situations, Violence, SMUT 18+

Summary: Rafe protecting reader and keeping her safe from her step dad and ex boyfriend.

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

Leaving my old life behind to come and live with my mum’s new husband was difficult, especially because I hated him. They had been together a little over 2 years and he was a really nice person when they met, but as time went on he would try and force me to call him dad. Im 18 years old there was no way I was doing that. Maybe if I was younger and didn’t know anything else, but I’m an adult now. 

BACK STORY BELOW

There was this one time where I skipped a class and he was my emergency contact as my mum was never available, while working long shifts at the hospital. We were both called into the principals office to discuss my punishment.

It wasn’t that bad, just an hour after class detention. After the meeting we got back into the car, “Matt I’m really sorry they called you, I used to skip sport all the time back at my old school. I didn’t think it was a big deal -“ I was met with a harsh slap against my cheek. 

The blood rushed to my cheek, a searing pain on the right side of my face. My hand came up to face to cover my face. “I don’t like coming down here to fix your mess Y/n.” He looks at me and grabs my wrist from my face “Your mother is not to hear a word about this, understood” he yells through my wrist back into my lap. That was the first time he hit me.

There were multiple times after that, that time he got drunk and broke a beer bottle on the wall next to me then slap me saying why didn’t clean up the mess or the time I came back from a party at 2am and he threw me into the wall.

_____________ ____________ ____________ ____________ _________

PRESENT DAY

Lets just say I really was hating the idea of moving into his house. On top of all that my boyfriend had cheated on me with my best friend and started dating. I found out last night and broke up with him. He keeps calling me but I just ignore all incoming messages and calls.

Arriving at my new home, i unpack the car and walk beside my mum. Matt walks out and practically makes out with her, leaving me standing uncomfortable. He takes my suitcase and leads me upstairs to my room. Not going to lie it was an amazing room with a balcony overlooking the beach. But if I had the choice of not living here with him I’d take it.

After organising my belongings and placing them in their assigned places, I felt exhausted. I contemplated taking a shower, but just as I was about to, I heard a knock at the door.

"Y/n, Matt, and I are heading out for a dinner date. There's food in the fridge for you whenever you're hungry," she informed me, and I acknowledged her with a nod. I then entered the shower, allowing the comforting warmth of the water to cleanse away the fatigue from the past few hours.

I got out, brushed my hair and placed a towel around my body. Walking over to my nightstand I grabbed a bra and matching panties, I dropped the towel and slid them on.

*Ding* My phone lit up with another text from Jason:

Jason: “Baby I’m really sorry about that happened. Can you please talk to me. Baby I love you”

Seeing that message made me really pissed and I decided to give it back to him.

Y/N: “You don’t have the right to call me baby anymore, you lost that when you fucked my best friend!!”

Jason: “Y/n don’t be like that. I said I was sorry, you gotta give me some credit”

………

*Jason Calling* I hesitated before picking up:

Y/n: “What?” Jason: “Y/n stop being dramatic, I said I was sorry” Y/n: “I’m not being dramatic Jason, you cheated on me with my best friend. How could you do that?” Jason: “It was just a fuck baby, it meant nothing. I was just sick of waiting for you to be ready. I have needs too.” Y/n: “You know you saying all of this make you sound like an absolute asshole right?” Jason: “OMG here we go again, always so sensitive, get over it, so we can get back together” Y/n: “Let me make this very clear, We are never ever getting back together, not now! not ever!” Jason: “You’ll change your mind, I know you w-“ Y/n: “No I won’t, I broke up with you, I don’t want to be with you, what aren’t you getting? Just leave me alone and fuck off” Jason: “You gonna wish you never said that baby!!” he hung up. 

After casually tossing my phone onto the bed, I descended the stairs to fetch some dinner. Upon returning upstairs, I noticed a tall silhouette across in the next house next door.

Intrigued, I approached the window and observed a handsome young man with a well-defined V line, his towel securely fastened around his waist. I found myself captivated by him, particularly the way he ran his fingers through his curtain-like bangs and subtly flexed his bicep.

He pivoted away from the mirror and locked eyes with me. His jaw dropped a bit, and he ran his tongue over his lips before playfully winking in my direction. In that moment, I completely forgot that I was only partially dressed while sneakily admiring my neighbour.

I offered a smile and then turned away, resuming my seat on the bed. Throughout that evening, I couldn't get the guy next door out of my mind.

The way his towel clung to his waist and the manner in which his bangs gracefully draped across his forehead remained persistent thoughts. 

The following day, I woke up and glanced at the clock, which showed 1 pm in the afternoon. I slowly climbed out of bed and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. My mom, who had just finished her night shift, had already prepared breakfast for me.

"Hello, dear. How was your sleep?" she inquired, giving me a warm hug. "It was okay," I replied to her question. We sat together as I enjoyed my meal. Afterward, she headed upstairs to get some rest.

Having finished my breakfast, I returned upstairs to change into a cute beach outfit. I then left the house and strolled down to the beach, taking a leisurely walk to clear my mind and unwind for the afternoon.

Sitting by the beach and observing the rhythmic crashing of the waves brought a profound sense of tranquility. In that moment, I felt like myself again, unburdened by the complexities of a new stepfather or the entanglements of a relationship. I felt liberated.

As I watched the sun descend on the horizon, I noticed someone approaching me. He was wearing a white rip curl tank top and board shorts. "Hey, it's you," he remarked as he settled down on my towel.

Puzzled, I inquired, "Hi, do I know you?"

"Well, we haven't formally met, but our eyes have crossed paths, and might I say you look charming in that pink outfit," he commented, his gaze sweeping over me. 

It finally dawned on me that he was the boy from next door, and I covered my face with my hands in embarrassment. "OMG, that's so embarrassing," I admitted, tucking my head between my knees.

"Don't be embarrassed. I enjoyed it, and judging by your reaction, I'd say you did too," he teased, smirking as I slowly lifted my head, returning his smirk. "I'm Rafe, by the way."

"I'm Y/n," I replied.

We ended up engaging in a lengthy conversation; he was remarkably easy to talk to. It felt like we shared a genuine connection. Rafe confided that he had recently broken up with his girlfriend due to her infidelity, and I shared my own experience of my boyfriend cheating on me and attempting to reconcile.

We laughed and bantered until we both realised the moon casting its shimmering reflection on the water.

"Wow, I didn't even notice it got dark," I remarked as I gazed out at the water.

"Same here," he replied, slowly extending his arm into the sand behind me.

We both continued to gaze at the water, observing the waves crashing. "Would you like to go for a swim?" he inquired, glancing at me and then back at the water.

"First, it's nighttime, and second, I'm not wearing my bikini," I responded with a chuckle.

He smirked and looked down at his hands. “That’s alright, you don’t need them, plus I’ve already seen you half naked anyways remember.” He said placing a strand of hair behind my ear. 

I responded to his offer with a shy smile. "Alright."

He got to his feet and removed his shirt, exposing his sun-kissed body. Following, I unzipped my shorts and slid them down, allowing them to drop onto the sand.

Then, I removed my top, raising my arms and revealing my C cup breasts in a black lace bra. Rafe's eyes widened when he saw me standing so close, partially undressed. He ran his fingers through his hair and swept it to the side.

He began descending toward the beach, periodically glancing back to check if I was following, and I was right behind him. When my toes touched the chilly ocean, my body tensed up.

Rafe noticed and came over to hold my hand, guiding me into the water. As I ventured further in, the temperature didn't improve; in fact, it got even colder. The water reached up to my ribs, and a small wave splashed onto my face, drenching me in its icy embrace.

"OMG, that's so cold," I exclaimed, looking over to where Rafe had already submerged himself, effortlessly navigating through the waves.

He swam back towards me, stopping just inches from my face. His hands found my waist, and I gladly accepted his embrace, wrapping my legs around his waist. We locked eyes, and I leaned in slightly to gauge his feelings.

He reciprocated the gesture, and our lips gently brushed against each other's. It felt like time had slowed down. I pulled back and grinned at him. His hands moved up my thighs, his fingers lightly tracing over my skin.

He leaned back in and kissed me more passionately. Feeling his hands travel up to my butt and squeeze lightly, making me moan quietly. Which didn’t go unnoticed by Rafe, he smiled into the kiss and started sucking on my neck leaving small bruises behind. Grinding my body into his I felt the bulge in his pants poking my pussy. I started to move a little quicker to get some kind of friction. 

Our moment was abruptly interrupted by a powerful wave that pushed us apart. Emerging from the wave, I spotted Rafe lying face down in the sand, attempting to recover from being knocked over by the ocean.

Chuckling at his predicament, I started to exit the water and lend him a hand. We then walked back to our house, and he paused in front of my place.

"I had a really nice time, Rafe," I said, looking directly into his eyes.

“I really like hanging out with you Y/N” He said as he kissed me on the lips again and than another peck, leaving me wanting more. He went to turn but I lightly pulled his arm back “Can I get your number?” I said batting my eyelashes at him. 

He put his number in my phone and I did the same with his. Walking back into the house I was met with Matt. He looked angry, to be honest I didn’t know what was going to happen.

“What time do you call this?” He yelled stepping forward. “I asked you a question?” He said again abruptly.

"I'm sorry; I didn't realize how late it had gotten," I whispered softly, attempting to retreat cautiously. However, he seized my arm and pressed me against the wall. His other hand closed around my throat, tightening its grip.

"This is my house, and you will obey my rules and return at a reasonable hour," he snapped, slowly increasing the pressure on my throat.

"I'm an adult, and I can stay out as long—" My words were abruptly halted by a brutal slap across my face. 

His ring cut my cheek, causing it to bleed. He released his hold on me and hurried upstairs.

I retreated into my room and slammed the door shut. As I settled on my bed, tears streamed down my face. I drew my knees up to my chest and wept into my pillow. 

Suddenly, I heard footsteps beside me and turned around quickly, only to find Jason standing there.

"What the FUCK!, how did you get in here?" I asked, quickly rising from the bed and creating some distance between us.

"Your dad let me in, baby," he replied, stepping closer.

"He's not my dad, and what are you doing here?"

"I came to see my beautiful girlfriend. I've missed you so much," he said, brushing my hand with his and leaning in for a kiss. I avoided his advances and settled onto my bed.

"Jason, we're broken up. We're not together anymore. What don't you understand—"

"For fuck's sake, Y/n! I love you, and I know you love me too," he exclaimed, clenching his fists in frustration.

"I used to love you, and then you shattered my heart when you slept with her!" I shouted back at him. My words clearly enraged him. In response, his fist struck my rib cage, causing an intense, searing pain to shoot through my body.

"You see, when you say things like that, it makes me lose control," he muttered, pacing around as I crumpled to my knees in agony. He returned to me, grabbing me by the hair and flinging me forcefully back onto the bed.

He climbed on top and started kissing me. His hands traveled up my thighs and forced my leg open, pulling my panties down.

I tried to push him off but he was too strong and my rib was throbbing. His thumb came up to my clit and rubbed circles in a rough motion. “Stop…..Stop get off, I’m not ready” I screamed but he didn’t stop. 

He inserted one finger in to me thrusting at a unforgiving pace. I could feel my walls clenching around his finger, he wasn’t letting up.

He had my hands pinned above my head with his other hand, I tried to wriggle out but that just made it more painful. He tried inserting another finger, but I was just to tight.

He tried his best but he lost his grip slightly, which allowed me room to stick my thumbs in his eyes. I pushed in and he let go and stumbled backwards. 

"Bitch!" He yelled, causing me to quickly retreat to the doorway and dash downstairs towards the front door. Just as I was about to grasp the handle, my head collided with the door, and Jason's hand firmly held it against the door.

"You may have won this battle, but I'll win the war, baby," he taunted before pushing me to the ground and exiting through the door.

I slowly ascended the staircase and entered my ensuite bathroom, where I noticed a slight trace of blood on my thigh. I cleaned myself up and changed into another set of pjs. 

Switching on the lamp beside my table, a sense of unease crept over me, fueled by the lingering fear that Jason might come back to resume his actions.

*Ding* Incoming Text

Rafe: Can’t sleep either? Y/n: Not since I moved here. Rafe: 😢 What are you doing tomorrow? Y/n: Nothing, Can I come over? We need to talk. Rafe: Yeah, of course see you at 8am Y/n: See you then :)

The morning sun streamed in through my window, and my eyes required no adjustment, for I hadn't slept a wink. It was 7:45 in the morning, and getting dressed proved challenging, given the discomfort I was feeling. Silently, I left my house and made my way to Rafe's door, where I knocked and patiently awaited his response.

As the door opened, Rafe's jaw dropped at the sight of my face. "What happened?" he inquired, opening the door wider to invite me inside.

Overwhelmed by my emotions, I began crying uncontrollably. Rafe enveloped me in his comforting embrace, guiding me into his room, where we sat on his bed. 

There, I unburdened myself, recounting everything that had occurred the previous night, including the distressing events involving my stepfather. Sharing the whole story felt like finally having someone firmly on my side.

After my confession, Rafe hugged me, not too tightly to avoid causing pain but with enough warmth to make me feel loved. I ended up staying at Rafe's house that night, mainly because he adamantly refused to let me return to my own house alone.

He walked over to his closet and retrieved a spare shirt, handing it to me. "You can change in here," he pointed to the bathroom across the room.

As I closed the bathroom door behind me, my cheeks flushed, and I couldn't quite pinpoint the reason. Perhaps it was because, after everything that had happened with Matt and Jason, I wasn't accustomed to someone making me feel anything other than fear. Changing into his shirt, I returned to his bedroom.

He was sitting on the bed, absorbed in his phone. When he looked up as I entered the room, he made space for me on the bed and handed me a glass of water. I graciously accepted, taking a few sips. He then pulled the covers over my body, and we both laid on our backs.

As I lay there, my hand brushed against his fingers, and I felt my heart quicken. Just as I was on the verge of falling asleep, a noise outside startled me, causing me to sit up abruptly and accidentally bump into Rafe. My heart raced, and I struggled to catch my breath; it was the onset of a panic attack.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. It's just the storm outside," Rafe reassured me, speaking softly. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, guiding my body closer to his.

"Take deep breaths for me," he urged, rubbing soothing circles on my back. Following his instructions, I inhaled deeply and exhaled, repeating the process five times.

"You're safe here, Y/n. I won't let anyone hurt you," he assured me. Eventually, I began to calm down, and we lay back down together. I threw my arm over him, cuddling in, and he reciprocated by hugging me tightly.

The following morning, I awoke to find Rafe setting up breakfast at the foot of the bed, and he greeted me with, "I thought you might be hungry?" as he extended the tray of food, which I eagerly accepted and placed on my lap, the sheets still modestly covering me, and the spread included French toast and waffles; as I concluded my meal, I reclined back in bed and drew the sheets over my face, prompting Rafe to ask,

"How are you feeling this morning, Y/n?" and in response, I lowered the sheet to just beneath my chin and confessed, "Considering everything I've endured, being here with you makes me feel safer than I've ever felt before," causing a blush to tinge my cheeks, to which he gazed into my eyes, smiled warmly, and reassured me

“I’m glad you feel safe here Y/n, I’d never want you to feel scared here. Your always welcome here, anytime!” He replied, slowly placing a loose strand of hair behind by ear. Looking into his eyes I got that feeling again, like butterflies but a more intense feeling. I really wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel his soft lips on mine, wanted to feel his hands roaming my body.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I just stared and smiled back at him. 

"I'ma take a shower real quick," he mentioned before heading into his bathroom, and I acknowledged with a nod as I gazed out the window; I rose from his bed and settled by the window, peering into my room, where I noticed my stepfather, Matt, entering.

I quickly concealed myself behind the curtain while still managing to observe him sifting through my belongings, even though I couldn't fathom what he might be searching for; I watched him pacing about my room, flinging my clothes and possessions about.

Then noticed him apparently engaging in a conversation with someone who seemed positioned near my bedroom door; slipping down from my concealed position behind the curtain,

I inched along the floor to another curtain and carefully raised myself to uncover the identities of the individuals outside; my eyes widened as I glimpsed Matt and Jason engaged in an intense argument, leaving me bewildered as to why Jason was present, what their intentions were, and how Matt had come to be in my room in the first place.

Numerous unanswered questions swirled in my mind, and I realised that they wouldn't be promptly addressed; remaining concealed, I continued observing the unfolding scene, as Jason paced around my room with his hands on his head, while Matt vociferated at him, until Jason finally took a seat on my bed and glanced in my direction.

I quietly slid down the curtain and sidled along the wall to gain a different vantage point, whereupon Rafe returned from the bathroom, attired in sweatpants, and inquired about my position on the floor.

I raised my index finger and directed it just beneath his window, indicating the scene outside, and Rafe approached to inspect it further; he observed two men embroiled in an argument within my room.

He looked down at me and signalled you to craw along the floor over to him. I did as he instructed, crawling along the floor not too high so they couldn’t see.

I reached him and he pulled me up. My hands slid up his toned body, feeling the grooves in his chest. Finally looking up to his face, he mouthed “Who are they?” 

As we clung to each other, I responded, "Matt, my stepdad, and my ex, Jason." He then wrapped his arms around my neck, offering a gentle embrace, and my arms naturally circled his waist, my fingers lightly trailing along his back.

I turned away for a moment, with his hand finding a resting place on my waist as we continued to watch the unfolding argument, and it was during this time that Jason retrieved a small round object from a photo frame on my bedside table, handed it to Matt, and engaged in a conversation with him.

Upon realizing what it was, I exclaimed, "It's a hidden camera!" My exclamation prompted me to whirl around to face Rafe, but as I moved, I inadvertently stepped into view of Matt and Jason, who immediately noticed me and rushed to the window; they then opened it and shouted,

"Y/n, we knew you couldn't have gone far."

Witnessing Matt and Jason exit my room and the house, and hearing their threats to break down Rafe's front door, I clung to Rafe's arm as we cautiously moved toward the front door, with a pressing question lingering in my mind.

I inquired, "What are you going to do?" just as Jason abruptly broke down the door and charged towards me, but Rafe swiftly intervened, tackling him to the ground. Following this, Matt entered the scene and watched Rafe land several blows on Jason's face.

Unbeknownst to me, Matt stealthily approached, and before I could react, his hands encircled my throat, hoisting me off the ground.

My hands instinctively grasped at his wrist, clawing in an attempt to loosen his grip. The pressure around my throat intensified, and my vision began to fade as my hands fell limply to my sides.

Rafe sprang into action when he saw Matt attempting to harm me, swiftly shifting from Jason to tackle Matt. He landed a powerful punch to Matt's nose, and as my eyes gradually reopened, I reached up to hold my neck, which was sore from the attack.

Rafe rushed over to help me sit up, propping me against the wall, his strong hand gently rubbing my shoulder. He anxiously asked, "Y/n, are you okay?" I nodded and replied, "Better now."

With his support, he lifted me to my feet and wrapped his protective arms around my waist. However, our relief was short-lived, as Jason suddenly clicked the safety off his gun, causing both of us to freeze.

Rafe immediately positioned himself in front of me, shielding me from the menacing weapon. Jason proceeded to berate me, claiming that I could have avoided this ordeal if I had just acquiesced to his demands, stating that he could have used me to obtain money from my father before subjecting me to further suffering.

He was on the brink of pulling the trigger when the sound of a car screeching to a halt distracted him long enough for us to seize the opportunity and escape through the back door.

We sprinted as fast as our legs could carry us, but exhaustion eventually forced me to stop. Rafe halted beside me, gently picking me up, and together, we made our way to the Country Club.

There, Rafe arranged for a hotel suite under the name of his best friend, Topper. After obtaining the key card, we entered the suite, where Rafe handed me a cup of water from the bathroom.

I took the water and pulled him down to sit beside me, expressing my gratitude, "Thank you for what you did," a sincere smile lighting up my face.

“I would do it all again for you” he said as he looked into my eyes than down to my lips and back up again. I leant in and our lips brushed against each others, cupping his hand around my face as our lips connect, gentle at first before he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me onto his lap, deepening the kiss.

As I rolled my hips against with clothed crotch, I felt that feeling that happens whenever I’m around him. The feeling of wanting his hands all over my body. Having him eat me out and wanting him inside me.

He stands and flips me over so that he’s hovering over me. I move up the bed more and he follows. I pull at the hem of his shirt and he pulls it off his one hand over his head. He pulls my top off and starts kissing down my collar bone till he reaches my covered breasts.

“Can I?” He questions and I nod. He unclips my bra and throws it away. He sucks against my shoulder as his hands slid to my breasts squeezing them.

“So Beautiful” he mumbles in to my neck. He starts rolling my nipples between his fingers taking one into his mouth, licking and sucking on them. Moans escape my lips as I lift my left leg around him to get more friction.

He comes back to my lips inserting his tongue in and swirling it around. “Rafe- I need to - I need to tell you something!” I said moaning away as he caressed my boobs.

“You can tell me anything” He said before hovering and looking at me.

“I’ve never done this before- had sex I mean.” I spoke softly, fingers dragging down is chest. 

“Do you want me to stop?” “No” I say quickly leaning up to capture his lips. Slowly undoing his drawstring and sliding down his sweat pants revealing his huge cock. I gulped seeing the length and size.

I took his cock into my hand and start stroking up and down, slowly rubbing my thumb over his tip and sliding the pre cum leaking out along his length. His fingers came to my shorts and unbuttoned my shorts pulling them down my legs and throwing them on the floor.

He then hooked his fingers into my panties and slid them off lightly. His hands ran back up my legs, slowly opening my knees, to reveal my dripping cunt. He swiped his thumb over clit causing my hips to lift.

He pushed me back down and dove in, his tongue attached to my clit. My mouth fell open and moans escaped me. “Feels so good” I breathed out closing my eyes.

“Good baby wanna make you feel so good.” His hands slid down my thighs and he starts rubbing my clit slowly. “Fuck Rafe” I moaned and he started rubbing faster, his arm hooking around my leg to lift and place on his shoulder.

He gently slid a finger into me, while stroking himself in preparation. I heard a whimper leave his lips as he felt how tight I was. After only a few minutes of his fingers I could feel my stomach turning ready for my release.

He knew this as well by how I squeezed his fingers. “Cmon baby cum on my fingers, cum f’me.” He whispered seductively watching as I let go all over his fingers. He brought his fingers up to his mouth sucked all my juices off. 

He palmed himself a few times before lining himself up with my cunt. “Are you sure?” He asked hesitantly waiting for me to respond. I nod in response. “I need words baby” .......... “Yes!”

He pushed in slowly, rubbing soothing circles on my outer thighs. My mouth fell open and my fingers dug into his biceps. Feeling my walls clench around him, it was stopping him from going in further.

“Just relax, take a breath.” He whispered into my ear. Following his suggestion, I took a deep breath and breathed out, he managed to slid in all the way. He was so big and I felt so full.

He stayed still, waiting for me to adjust to the size. I gave a him look that he could start moving, his cock sliding in and out. My walls clenching down on him with every thrust. He began speeding up the pace, and was left a moaning mess. I felt him twitch inside me and that's when I knew he was getting close. 

He hoisted one of my legs up onto his shoulders to hit me at a new and deeper angle. He brought his fingers to my clit and rubbed circles, making me release all over his cock. He wasn’t far behind at I felt his cock twitch again.

Just as he was about to let go he pulled out and he shot hot cum ropes on to my boobs. He continued rubbing my clit slowly as I came down from my high.

“That felt so good” I whispered to him. He smirked and laid beside me.

“I belong with you Rafe” I say turning on my side and wrapping an arm around his waist and letting my leg rest onto of his leg.

“You belong with me.” He whispered as I fell asleep in his arms.

👊☀️🏘️🌊👙👊☀️🏘️🌊👙👊☀️🏘️🌊👙👊☀️🏘️🌊👙👊☀️🏘️

Hope you guys enjoyed this fic!!

I will be doing writing requests this week. So if you have requested a fic yours will be posted in the next few day.

[itneverendshere]

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

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

💌MASTERLIST

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

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

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

Fuck off.

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

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

"Sir, you are listed as—"

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

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

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

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aw, nothing like a teenager. 

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

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

“It’s two days."

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

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

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

"Why are you stomping around like that?" 

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

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

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

"Just woke up, okay?" he snapped.

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

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

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

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

"Poguelandia.”

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

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

"You know Sarah’s there, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, well, they hate me."

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

Yeah, good thing.

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

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

She perked up, her face lighting with hope.

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

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

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

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

Only time would tell. 

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

It scared the shit out of him, honestly.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

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

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

“Take it or leave it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lucky me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe smirked as he climbed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow. Revolutionary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The gate code. The lock.

He couldn’t get it out of his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re dead meat.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, sure you wouldn’t have.”

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

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

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

He shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, yeah. Maybe the therapist had a point. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You were fine.”

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

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

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

“Good luck with that.”

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

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

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

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

“No,” Rafe deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She might as well have been.

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

He hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he resented her for being yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wheezie was safe.

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe raised an eyebrow, “Right.”

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

“Snacks?”

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

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

“Relax, I’ll be two minutes!"

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

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

Now, it was for everyone but him.

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

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

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

The sound of footsteps broke his focus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She just looked scared.

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

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

That stopped him cold.

“What about them?”

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

“Fighting?”

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

Shit.

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

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

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

He knew exactly what you were pissed about.

Topper. Of course. And him. Fuck.

He hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was so fucked. 

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

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

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

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

He missed the simple stuff.

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

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

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

He left. Over and over again.

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

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

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

“Sis—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t listen.

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

“Get out,” you snapped, "Move.”

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

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

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

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

He still knew the signs all too well.

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

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

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

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

He hated seeing you like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get your hands off me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t need you.”

He knew he was losing you.

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

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

“To what? To give a shit?”

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

You scoffed, a bitter sound.

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

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

You thought he wouldn’t fucking stay.

“I love you.”

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

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

You clenched your jaw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wasn’t like that—”

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

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

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

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

"But you wanted to, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe’s heart plummeted.

“I—”

“You what? You forgot?”

His nails bit into his palms, “I—”

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

Pregnant.

Pregnant. With his—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did, he did care.

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

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

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

His gut twisted.

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

“I don’t need you. I never did.”

It was a lie, maybe you even believed it.

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

“I should’ve been there.”

“Yeah? No shit.”

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

“That’s not good enough.”

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

Rafe stepped closer.

You took a step back.

“Don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s nothing to tell.”

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

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

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

You looked down at your feet. “No.” 

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

You blinked, "What?"

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

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

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

Jesus fucking Christ.

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

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

“Don’t.”

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

“Stop,” you snapped, but he couldn’t.

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

“I said stop.”

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

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

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

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

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@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[sincere1ystar]

Loved You First

rafe cameron x fem! reader | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

Two years ago, Rafe left the island without saying a word. Unknowingly to him, you were pregnant all along. When he finally comes back, he’s desperate to get you back not knowing it’s more complicated than it seems.

𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

Two years ago. That’s when you last saw Rafe Cameron. And during those two years you were pregnant for nine months with his baby. Not that he knew though.

It was difficult to say the least, and if it wasn’t for your little girl Julie , your heart would have never recovered. She was only about a year and a half, but she was sunshine in human form. Julie had the same eyes as her father that destroyed your idea of love, but she had your kind and giving spirit. She had the same smile as the man who left you one day for good, but she had your fondness for animals. Sure many of her physical attributes came from Rafe, but her heart was all you.

Maybe Rafe disappearing without a single explanation or goodbye was the reason you swore off affection for good. Everyone knew it did, but you insisted that your decision to lock the door of love and throw awake the key was to focus on yourself and your baby. Plus it’s not like you haven’t moved on. Well, maybe not romantically speaking, but you’ve moved on with your life. You had a job as a waitress at the local diner and even though Julie didn’t have her dad in the picture, your friends made sure that she had many aunts and uncles to shower her with love and care.

Of course you still struggled. Providing for a child was expensive, especially with only having a waitress job to support the two of you. On top of it all pathetic as it was, you still thought about Rafe even though it was two years since he left without a word. What if he stayed? He hadn’t even known you were pregnant, you never got the chance to tell him.

You constantly found yourself dwelling on these what-ifs. But it’s not like anything would change, your paths would never cross for. The thought was solidified in your head until you heard the news. Rafe was back on the island.

Well he technically wasn’t back permanently. But he’s been coming back and forth for buisness trips, and each time you’ve managed to skillfully avoid him. Not like it was hard, The two main places you spent your time was the diner and home anyway.

The first time you saw him in person after everything was at the diner. One of your friends was babysitting little Julie as you were working a double shift that day. You were giggling at a joke on of your coworkers made when the door chimed open.

“Hey what can I get started for you”— The menu in your hands was now dropped onto the floor once you saw who it was. Rafe. Your ex lover and the father of your child, who didn’t even know he was a father.

You weren’t going to let him see you weak. You weren’t going to let him see you flustered while stumbling over your words. “Sorry about that. What can i get started for you again?”

“Hey.. Can we talk?”, Rafe asks not even bothering to look at the menu placed in front of him. Unlike you, he wasn’t caught off guard in the least. He must have found out you were working at the diner somehow.

Two years. Two years since he left without a word. It didn’t matter whether or not he knew you were pregnant or not, he still left. And you were determined to not let him back in that easy. “I’m sorry that’s not an option on our menu. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“I just need five minutes—“

“So what can I get started for you today? Our appetizers are on the front page”.

“Fine play it like that. I’ll take a water then”.

Before he can say anything else you turn back, your heels stomping during each step. He’s back? Why did he have to come here out of all place? Who does he think he is asking to talk? He’s the one who left two years ago without saying a word. If your boss hadn’t let out a small cough to interrupt your thoughts, you wouldn’t have realized that the cup in your hand was overflowing as you poured the water mindlessly.

He stayed there the rest of the day. Still sitting in that little booth just ordering a glass of water over and over again. And everytime you went over to ask if he’d like the check, he’d beg for a chance to talk again and again. Why was he desperately trying to fix things after two whole years? Did he know about.. No no he couldn’t.

Of course you were closing that night, which meant that you couldn’t escape Rafe as you locked up the diner for the night. You were tired of his attempts and just wanted to go home to your daughter.

“Just five minutes”, Rafe pleaded once again. “You know what no I’ll take two minutes of your time that’s all. Promise”.

“Listen I know I’m an idiot I know”, he started, And I left and I was stupid and it took me two years to realize”-

You stop him right there not willing to hear another word. “Yeah you were stupid. I don’t want your pity or your apologizes. It was two years ago Rafe, I’m sure we both moved on”. You start walking towards the nearest bus stop as Rafe follows close behind.

“Wait! Wait okay okay! I’m not asking for your forgiveness okay?.. I uh need a place to stay”, his words rush and overflow out of his mouth. He was desperate to get you to listen to him. Even if he had to lie about needing a place to stay.

His words stop you in your tracks. “A place to stay? I know you sold your place back at Tannyhill a while back but you don’t have… a rental house or something?”

“Not anymore… I sold it. And all the hotels are fully booked around here”.

Rafe knew it was a reach, and didn’t expect you to comply. If it wasn’t peak tourism season at the island you wouldn’t have believed him. “Fine. You can stay over at my house for a night”.

You were always sweet. Even to the man that abandoned you without a word. It’s just who you were. You could pretend to be cold and heartless in front of Rafe, but you both knew deep down that wasn’t who you were.

It’s a long and awkward bus ride, Rafe tries to speak every now and then but you quickly shut him down. He’s suddenly quiet once the two of you reach your place though. It’s… modest to say the least. Not in the best neighborhood either, but who was he t judge anyway. Being judgmental wasn’t going to get you back.

He notices how you have to practically kick open the door in order to get it unlocked. He also notices how small and cramped your place is. What does catch him off guard is the little girl running into your arms the minute you open the door.

“Mamaaaaaaaa!!!!!”, little Julie squeals as she toddles over to you and throws herself into your arms. Your friend who was babysitting her just chuckles at the little girl’s reaction and gets up from her spot on the couch.

“How has it been a year and a half already? She’s growing too fast”, your friend coos as you agree.

You quickly thank her for watching your Julie, hoping she won’t notice Rafe on her way out and by some miracle she doesn’t. But little Julie does as she giggles and waves to him from over your shoulder.

The door shutting from your friend’s exit is what forces Rafe out of his thoughts. That little girl in your arms was your daughter Was she his daughter too? He didn’t even need to ask, she had to be. With those eyes she had there was no doubt about it.

You don’t have to say anything to Rafe. The look you give him says it all.

[strawberrymatchawhore]

p power

rafe cameron

“take it from him and i leave him with nothing”

summary- john b cheats on you with sarah cameron you get revenge by getting with her brother

warning- DUBCON, sex under the influence, raw sex (wrap it folks), drinking, smoking, partying, fighting, sex tape (reader knows hes recording but doesnt know he sent it to her ex), semi public beach house sex, meanish pussy drunk rafe lol

you took a hit of your pen, gently coughing from the amount you just inhaled. you were currently in your boyfriends room, confronting him. you had caught john b cheating on you with sarah cameron, kook princess and someone you thought was your friend.

“can you not do that in my room? take this seriously.” john b said swiping his hands in the air to get rid of the cloud puffs floating. you scoffed, the audacity.

“i dont give a fuck about what youre asking for me to do right now john b, you cannot be for real about me taking this seriously.”

“i dont know what to tell you, she was going through something. she needed me.” john b gave his bullshit excuse which made you even more angry.

“what about me, did you even think about me for one bit before you decided to fuck her ?” you screamed at him, getting up from the couch ready to leave the room. as you have your hand on handle, john b grabs it. his large hand covers yours.

“i love you.. please” he pleads, eyes getting wetter.

“dont touch me with that dirty ass hand john b, i shouldve known. no matter how much i showed my love for you, no matter how much i cared. you will always choose her.” you gritted through your teeth.

“i-”

“no, its okay. im done with this shit.” your voice cracks and you slam the door in front of john b's face, driving away with tears blurring your vision.

AT THE PARTY

you strut your way into the party, the annual bonfire that happens the same week every year. you grab a pink solo cup and fill it to the brim with jungle juice. you had already pregamed before and begged your friend to drive you here, laughing at yourself when you caught yourself tripping over the pile of beer cans on the floor. obvious that you were feeling the effects of the weed and alcohol combining.

you were tired, physically and mentally, you couldnt deal with anyones bullshit anymore. especially after what happened earlier in the day, you just needed a break.

“what are you doing here ?” you heard a voice question from behind, you turned and saw rafe cameron looking at you up and down.

“oh hey rafey, nothing honestly just trying to forget shit you know ?” you down the rest of your drink and turn again to retrieve another cup. before you can take a sip out of it, it gets knocked down by rafe. who angrily walks over to john b and sarah cameron who were conversing with each other in the corner.

oh shit

“the fuck are you doing bro? chill.” john b says and backs up. sarah tries to intervene by calling his name and you just stand there interested in what was about to happen.

“you feel good about yourself ??” rafe pushes john b, getting ready to instigate a fight. you fight the urge to run up and defend your man. but you stayed still.

this is what he deserves

sarah cameron stops her brother in his tracks and tries to stop him, he ignores her.

oh yeah try to get him to stop, cheater.

“looks like you got my sloppy seconds... good luck with that. shes a real handful” john b insensitively says, rafe continues his way toward him. and within a second throws a hard punch to his face. john b falls to the ground and rafe looks over him.

“you like that shit johnny ? huh ?” he moves and hovers over john b's body, and continues to beat him unconscious. kiaras dad finally pulls them apart, and you walk over to rafe checking to see if he was okay. sarah starts to angrily push rafe, but he doesnt budge.

“sarah you better stop that shit before you end up on the ground just like john b.” you glared at her angrily and pushed her away before gently grabbing rafes arm and walking away with him.

……..

“jeez rafe you really fucked him up…” you said while wiping the blood off his knuckles with disinfectant. he winces when you finishes it off with ointment.

“yeah i dont know what i was thinking, i just.. its just that he pisses me off so much an-” rafe drunkingly rambled, you hesitated. but then losing to your own thoughts you grab his face and kiss him. you quickly pull away fluttering your lashes, mouth slightly open. taking short deep breaths in and out, nothing but the sound of waves crashing could be heard.

“fuck im sorry.” your voice cracked, tears forming in your eyes. you even shocked yourself with that action, moving your hand from your face you fidget with your bikini top. rafe then gently grabs your face and makes eye contact, kissing back but with more passion. everything in the room starts to blur and your focus is only on him. he pulls away and begins to hover over you. cornering you further into the plush couch.

“nah don’t apologize.. just kiss me back” rafe whispers into your ear making his way down to your neck, giving it light kisses and sucks. his hands wander around your body, you begin to grow desperate and grind yourself onto his thigh, hands rubbing his back. you grabbed his hair to pull him closer to you, he groans in response.

"you dont understand how badly i want you.." he kisses you deeper.

"..how badly i wanted to do this." he backs up and takes off his shirt, his abs and buff body glistening from the ocean water combined with the low light of the moon. he lowers himself and his hands reach for your bottoms, untying them then tossing them onto the floor.

your breathing hitches when you feel his cool breath on your pussy, rafes arms grab at your thighs and spread your legs open.

"oh fuckkk" you lightly moaned when you felt his tongue on your clit making slow but rough licks. rafe laughs and moans into you, sending vibrations throughout your whole body. he looks up at your and makes eye contact with your glossy glazed over eyes.

"you taste so fucking good." he continues to lap at your juices, you looked at the blonde. dazed and memorized by how pretty he was. forgetting all your worries and troubles because of how good he worked his mouth. it was over for you when you felt his fingers prod at your entrance.

the combination of his long thick fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy and his mouth on your clit drove you over the edge.

"fuck, you gonna cum f'me? please cum baby." he slurps and fingers you faster, your chest heaves up and down before you cum all over his face and make a mess. but rafe doesnt stop there, he removes his fingers and uses both his arms to hold your legs open. continuing to eat you out.

"oh my go- fu- please.. too much! rafe please sto-" you mewl trying to close your legs to no avail.

"uh uh stay still f'me" rafe tuts, eventually he stops and gets up, his mouth and chin dripping with your juices. he grabs your jaw and kisses you before taking off his shorts, the classic calvin klein banding accentuates his v line and you could see his bulge.

you sit up and your fingers hook at the band and pull his boxers down, immediately his cock springs up and hits his stomach. your eyes widened.

"its not gonna fit." you say, his tip is leaking with precum and you fight the urge to swallow him whole right then and there.

"dont worry it will." his hand pushes you back down and he uses his knees to spread your legs. rafe starts to rub himself up and down your pussy, circuling his tip around your clit. and you let out a satisfied hum. he was fighting the urge to just shove himself completely inside you and fuck you deep into the couch. rafe eyes your phone, and leans over to grab it.

he hovers the phone over your face and unlocks it, opening your messages app. he clicks on john bs contact and sees that he left 30+ texts, laughing at the idiot rafe then clicks on the camera feature.

“rafe w-what are you doing?" you asked, closing your legs shyly. your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"dont worry, just trust me." rafe responds, leaning down to kiss you sloppily before he pressed record on the camera. using his free hand to push your thighs apart he moves the camera closer to your bodies, your lower body and his are in view. rafe then uses his fingers to spread your lips, showing the camera your slick. he slides two fingers inside you and gives it a few pumps before he removed them.

"open up f'me." he gently taps your cheek and slides the two fingers into your now open mouth. his long fingers caressing your tongue, automatically you start to suck his fingers. cleaning them.

"thats it... good job baby." he admires the way your plump swollen lips wrapped around his fingers, at this point his cock was aching in need to pump you full of his cum. he must have you.

"please rafe.. need you." you whined and looked up at him, watery eyed and pupils blown. you desperately moved your hips, and thank god he started to rub your aching pussy with his cock again. the both of you were hungry and needy. gentle whines filled the room, and rafe eventually slid himself in.

"oh fuck." rafe dragged out, slowly pushing deeper and deeper inside you.

"youre so tight, holy shit. mmmmm." bottoming out he stayed there for a moment to let you adjust. he was so long and thick, you felt every vein on it in your walls. you seriously had nothing to say, no words could have been let out to describe what you were feeling right now. pure ecstasy.

the both of you continued to say nothing as rafe sped up, drilling harder and faster into your wet pussy. his balls slapping against you ass, nothing could be heard besides moaning and the sound of his rough thrusts. you could barely see anything aside from rafes figure but you were sure that his back and biceps were now covered in scratch marks from you. the bright flash of the camera blinding you, you've never been filmed like this before. and the thought of you being slut out on camera made you even more wet.

"such a good fucking slut for me, youre takin' me so well." his free hand gripping tight on the fat of your hips to guide himself against your sweet spot.

"oh FUCK!" you let out a combination of a moan and scream when he continued to hit that spot, the knot in your stomach growing tighter.

"does your ex fuck you like this?" he slows down his pace, but you were too fucked up to respond.

"huh?" he asked and slid out just to snap hips back into you bringing you back to reality.

"no! oh fu- youre so much bigger.." you moaned, your pussy leaving a white ring at the base of rafes cock.

"yes yes yes. ah!" you whined when he sped up, which you didnt think was possible. rafe was pounding you so hard you were seeing stars. your hand went to cover your mouth but rafe slapped it away, and put it on your lower stomach.

"dont do that i wanna hear you moan f'me."

"you feel that?" rafe asked, you could see his cock bulging from your stomach.

"god- squeezing me so fucking tight..." rafe grunted, and lowered his hand to rub circles on your clit. your mouth slack and open, boobs bouncing up and down from rafes thrusts.

rafe wasnt even sure if he was getting all of this on frame, he was jackhammering into you like he hated you. he relished in the way your cunt clenched around him like you were made for him. and he was sure you were. all perfect, pretty and stupid for him.

"rafe i feel like im gonna pee, stop!" you screamed out and gripped his bicep. your stomach burned in pleasure and you felt like it was going to explode.

"pl-please oh my god, oh... my"

"thats it baby, squirt all over my fucking cock. youre so pretty like this." your eyes started water even more, he was fucking you so good you stared crying. overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions and feelings.

"so cute when you cry for me, if you keep doing that im gonna cum inside you." embarrassed you turn your head away and shake your head, the squelching and sight of your cunt was so sloppy and messy. rafe gripped your jaw and forced you to look at the camera.

"open your eyes sweetheart, keep looking at me." his fingers made their way down to your throat and squeezed.

"fuck." he whimpered, rafe has never done that before. the both of you were shocked but youve never been turned on this much.

"mmm keep doing that, you sound so fucking hot rafe." you urged him.

"im gonna cum, can i cum inside you? please baby" he begged, his thrusts becoming less controlled.

"yes, fuck. i need you to fill me right now. i wanna see your cum dripping out of me, breed me." the both of you were whiney, your cheeks were wet and your legs were shaking and sore.

"shit, you are so perfect.. this pussys so p-perfect." rafes body was tired, rutting into you like you were nothing but a fleshlight. his tip twitching inside you before he came deep into your cervix, making sure to push every ounce of his seed inside you before pulling out. and filming your dripping cunt before he ended the video.

rafe didnt have evil intentions but he wanted to let john b know what he lost, who would want to miss out on a girl like you?

*attached video*

"shes busy rn bro"

5 hours later you were laying next to a knocked out rafe, finally sobering up you went to check your phone. the most recent message being from none other than your ex.

why is he spam texting me?

"what the fuck? youre such a bitch" the text read, confused and curious you decided to scroll up. only to get surprised by a video of you and rafe from earlier. you dropped the phone in shock and turned to see rafe who woke up from the sudden sound. you picked your phone back up and shoved the phone into rafes face.

“what the fuck is this rafe?!"

[obxsummer]

leave me again ii // rafe cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x routledge!reader (she/her), ex!jj maybank x reader

summary: you left the cut with nowhere to go. it’s rafe cameron that finds you and shows you the life you deserved to live

warnings: sorry jj lovers, that man does not get our girl back so sad jj and probably ooc rafe but i love it when that man is soft

navigation || part one

--

Six months.

It had been six months since any of the Pogues had seen you. No social media, no sight of you around town, no letters. Nothing.

The past six months left you to do a lot of reevaluations. You’d walked aimlessly after the group had left for the dive with nothing but your backpack and phone, no destination in mind. Until you found one.

“Lost or something?”

“Fuck off, Rafe,” Your response was instant as you continued to walk without sparing him a look. The car shifted into a different gear, you guessed by the noise, before Rafe was hopping out to approach you.

“Are you okay?” When you didn’t answer, he moved in closer and grabbed your shoulder before turning you to face him. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You stared at him with the knowledge that you probably looked like a mess with the tear streaks across your cheeks. While Rafe had a lot of issues with your friends and brother, he usually stayed clear of you. Whether that was because you were close with Sarah, or what, you didn't know.

Twisting your fingers together, you dropped your gaze as tears started to build again. “You ever watch someone you love choose someone else over you, every single time?”

The question felt like a punch in the gut to Rafe. He had. His whole life he watched his dad choose Sarah. Watched his mom choose another family over him. Watched Wheezie choose another sibling over him.

“Get in, I’ve got somewhere to take you.”

Six months ago, you hopped in Rafe Cameron’s Range Rover and left The Cut behind. You didn’t question the decision, knowing you’d worry about everyone else before taking care of yourself, and that clearly didn’t work in the past. You felt horribly guilty about leaving John B with no indication whether you were okay or not, but you knew if one of them found out, JJ would be busting down the door to Rafe’s bedroom before you had a chance to say no. 

While you weren’t sure what the original intentions had been, Rafe was so different with you after bringing you back to his new house. One he’d bought after selling Tannyhill, free from the haunting of his father and the screams that echoed off the walls, he had turned it into a safe space for himself and anyone he invited in.

Things blossomed quickly and you realized the Rafe in front of you was not the bully, coke-head addict you’d once known. He was such a gentle person, and so much more attentive to you than JJ had ever been. Whether it was making you breakfast in bed before you left for the day, or prepping a warm (actually warm, like hot water you’d hadn’t had in forever) candle lit bath, or popping an expensive bottle of wine just for you to taste, he was there in ways nobody had been. You were his girl, his only girl, and you never once had to question that.

Rafe had even invited you to sit in on his investment meetings and he was slowly pulling your name into his business so you’d have a professional background to grow into. You were steadily becoming an educated little couple in his home, something he was so proud and grateful for. He had someone to lean on for advice and give him fresh eyes on new projects with no judgment or fear of anger. The two of you soaked up your bubble of peace for as long as you could before shit hit the fan. 

Little did you know, on the other side of the island with your brother, there had been absolutely no peace. John B and JJ barely spoke, everything ending in an argument when they did. Pope was sick of playing mediator, and Kie had more of less shut down out of guilt. Sarah was still searching for you, but you’d gone ghost. Cleo was treading lightly with the knowledge that everything would explode eventually. 

So, they did what they could, and dove into treasure hunting. When JJ pulled the amulet out of his pocket in the back of the Twinkie, John B’s emotions were mixed. Sure, he was stoked that he’d found the object the group was looking for, but he wished you were here. It was your birthday, and John B was inches away from losing his shit without you.

“Dude, are you okay?” Pope asked as the group stood in the office area of the house, trying to find more information on the amulet’s inscription.

John B tossed the heavy object on the desk in frustration. “No, I’m not okay! We can find decades old treasure like it’s the easiest thing ever, but we can’t find jack shit about my sister? That’s bullshit, Pope. And you know it.”

Pope knew things would be sensitive today. Even JJ woke up grouchy, which John B told him was deserved since he caused your absence in the first place. The lack of your presence weighed heavy on the group, so Pope suggested going to visit one of your favorite beach spots. 

Little did he know what he was getting himself into.

--

“Rafe!” The house was filled with your laughter as Rafe twirled you in the kitchen lighting, your favorite song playing from the interactive speaker on the counter. The two of you had spent the day together, visiting the country club for lunch before Rafe took you shopping for something to wear tonight.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme love on you, it’s your birthday” He mumbled as he pressed soft kisses into your neck, hands squeezing your hips teasingly. The soft fabric of the dress he’d picked out covered your frame, the color matching your skin perfectly. 

You hummed in content, fingers holding his biceps tightly as if your knees would give out any second. “You loved on me a lot this morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Rafe’s thumb traced your bottom lip before he kissed you softly. “You make it so easy.”

The two of you got lost in each other for a few more moments, soaking up the quiet as the orange sunset started casting through the windows. Today had been the best day you’d had in so long and you were so grateful of Rafe for giving you so much patience and love.

It had taken time for you to adjust to this kind of life. You walked in here with three outfits to your name, a busted cell phone, and a stuffed animal John B won you at the town festival as kids. And Rafe embraced every bit of it, let you keep your Pogue pieces while building you a life around it that was filled with items you needed but would never ask for, all while loving you so gently.

You climbed out of his car (technically the one he’d bought you but you refused to acknowledge that), and stepped down into the soft sand below. This was your spot, the spot you came to whenever you needed to clear your head or take a moment alone. You’d shared it with Rafe shortly after everything changed, and now, it was a shared spot that you both considered special.

Rafe moved around the car to grab your hand and guide you toward the area he had organized for the two of you. A small white table had been set up with your favorite snacks and two glasses of wine, surrounded by the fluffiest blanket and pillows you’d seen. 

“Did you do this?” You squeezed his hand tighter, tears in your eyes at how sweet and thoughtful the gesture was. Your jaw dropped as the two of you walked closer; everything was thought out down to the tiny forks you loved so much being there to pick up the appetizers. 

“Course I did, baby.” Rafe kissed your temple softly and grabbed one of the glasses to hand to you before taking hold of his own. You clinked your glass against his, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply in appreciation.

And then everything went to shit.

“What the fuck?”

Rafe’s hand tightened against your lower back, both of you looking over to see the handful of figures standing a few feet away. Your heart went to your throat went you made eye contact with your brother, whose hand was wrapped in Sarah’s. JJ stood behind him along with Kiara, Pope, and Cleo, all of them looking at you expectantly.

“Shit,” You whispered and took a step back from Rafe, eyes meeting his in dread. His expression had hardened at the sight of JJ, all the anger rushing back when he thought about how you’d been treated in the relationship, how unfair everything had been. You clocked the frustration in his gaze and placed your fingers on his cheek to redirect his focus back to you. “Don’t. I’ll handle it.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked but he didn’t argue as you slipped your wine glass back into his hand and left his side to approach the group standing in front of you. You weren’t even worried about JJ or Kie, you were worried about John B more than anything.

“Hi,” The greeting was so quiet you almost didn’t hear yourself. How do you talk to people you disappeared on six months ago?

John B’s only response was to pull you into the tightest hug he had ever given. You stumbled with the force of his body colliding with you before regaining your balance and returning the embrace. 

“You’re okay,” He repeated the words to himself as if convincing his mind that they were true before stepping back and holding your cheeks in his hands. The smile on his face was huge, and you were so so confused. “Holy shit.”

“Hi,” You laughed quietly, placing your hands on top of his. “I’m so sorry.”

John B shook his head, his thumb brushing the random tear from your cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I told you to take a break, yeah? And you did.”

You glanced back to where Rafe was surprisingly conversing with Sarah with no anger in sight. The pit in your stomach slowly disappeared as you took them in and turned your attention back to John B. “I um… there’s a lot to catch you up on, and I want to tell you. I wanna tell you all of it, JB, but-”

“And I wanna hear it,” He reassured softly. “But someone put a lot of effort into your night and I don’t wanna steal any of it.”

You were so goddamn grateful for your brother. Pulling John B into another hug, you spared the look over his shoulder to see Kiara stomping away from the beach. You tried to keep a smirk off your face but it definitely made its way through. 

Stepping back from John B, you shared hugs with Cleo and Pope, promising that you would see them soon before you were face to face with the reason you made it here in the first place. JJ looked rough. His hair was chaotic, arms thinner than you remembered, and he just looked tired.

“I don’t want your apology,” You spoke as he opened his mouth. “And it looks like you have a girlfriend to go find anyway.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” JJ replied quickly as he stared at you. “Not anymore.”

You pulled your lips in and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you around, JJ.”

He reached a hand out toward you when you moved to walk away. You paused just out of his reach and looked back. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

You nodded. “I know. I should be thanking you actually, because if you had said it back to me that day, I wouldn’t have found something so much better.”

And with that, you walked away from JJ and the empty promises he had always given, walked away straight into the arms of someone who would give you the world and more, if you just so much as asked.

--

navigation 

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓭 💕

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓿𝓷𝓽𝔂𝓬𝓵𝓾𝓫𝓰𝓯

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

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ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 + ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘 - 𝓝𝓸 𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓞𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻

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ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯

❄️ 𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷’ 𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 | 𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟚𝟝 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

When you're getting hit on by a random guy at your local college bar “boyfriend” Rafe comes in to save the day.

❄️ 𝓐𝓹𝓻è𝓼 𝓢𝓴𝓲 | 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵’𝚜𝚂𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟚𝟜 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Your sister’s boyfriend is so hot… A family trip to Breckenridge leaves plenty of tension between you and Rafe

❄️ 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓘𝓬𝓮 | 𝙽𝙷𝙻𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚆𝙰𝙶! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟚𝟛 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

NHL!Rafe gets caught smiling at the Ice Girl after scoring a goal on his way back to the bench; his winning night just turned into a loss—now he needs to make it right

❄️ 𝓣𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓵𝔂 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | 𝙽𝙷𝙻𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟚𝟚 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Rafe is always very private about his job and business dealings. After being gone on a trip, he wants nothing more than to spend the night with you. The two of you go on a date, looking at Christmas lights and discussing the future.

❄️ 𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 | 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤t

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟚𝟙 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

The premise is you and Rafe had been flirting for a while, but between obligations, Greek life, and finals, you haven't been able to get together until tonight ♥️

❄️ 𝓑𝓻𝓪𝓽 𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 | 𝙳𝙸𝙻𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 & 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Hooking up with your best friend’s dad only to flirt with Topper at the holiday party, what could go wrong? Rafe will let you know (<- part of the “mr cameron” au but it will be written to be read alone)

❄️ 𝓜𝔂 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵 | 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟞 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Ward and Rose aren’t your fans, but Rafe puts them in their place.

❄️ 𝓐 𝓝𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮 𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 | 𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟘 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

I got the idea for this story after watching Sabrina Carpenter’s Christmas Special! ♥️ The premise is a popstar!reader who wants the attention of her handsome bodyguard, who seemingly has one interest: keeping her safe.

❄️ 𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵 | 𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟛 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

After a few drinks at a hockey party, Rafe gets teased about what a good girl you are, but Rafe knows the truth 💋

❄️ 𝓤𝓷𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓭 | 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝙳𝙸𝙻𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟛 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Rafe catches you stressed and cramming for a test at the end of a long night babysitting his kids, and he wants to help you unwind

❄️ 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓕**𝓴 𝓲𝓼 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓶𝓪𝓼, 𝓐𝓷𝔂𝔀𝓪𝔂? | 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟡 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Rafe catches a buzzing in your nightstand and he can't help but take a peek

❄️ 𝓐𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓮 | 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝙽𝙷𝙻!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙰𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟜 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Journalist!Reader, Rafe’s ex, interviews him and the other captain ahead of Friday night's big game. Rafe can't help but see the spark between them, and he wants to let her know who she belongs to

❄️ 𝓒𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 | 𝚃𝚘𝚙𝙶𝚞𝚗!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟟 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

You’re missing your boyfriend, Rafe, so you open one of your favorite videos of the two of you while you play with yourself, but you can’t quite hear it…

❄️ 𝓚𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓜𝔂 𝓗𝓪𝓽 𝓞𝓷 | 𝙲𝚘𝚠𝚋𝚘𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟟 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

After a messy breakup with a bartender at a rival bar, Cowboy!Rafe needs to find a new place to grab a beer. Turns out you were the sunshine he needed all along. This is also loosely based on my favorite TikTok edit LINK ♥️

❄️ 𝓔𝓷𝓰𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 | 𝙽𝙷𝙻𝙵𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚌é!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙵𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚌é!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟚 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Celebrating your engagement with fiancé Rafe

❄️ 𝓑𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓼 | 𝙼𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙾𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟜 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

You know it’s wrong, you’d break Shoupe’s heart, but who can deny Rafe Cameron?

❄️ 𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓛𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓼 | 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟚𝟘 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Professor!Rafe has been distant and now after cancelled plans you want to know what the hell is going on.

❄️ 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓓𝓪𝓽𝓮 | 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟚 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Rafe Cameron is nothing but trouble in class. When you see he’s up for a date night auction for his frat house; you can’t help but make a large anonymous donation, stealing him away for the night so you can have him all to yourself. Maybe he’ll finally learn his lesson.

❄️ 𝓡𝓲𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓼 | 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙰𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟝 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Lovers to enemies to lovers… A rough week between you and Rafe gets rougher after he catches you talking to someone else.

❄️ 𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻 | 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟠 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Baking cookies with Rafe. You and Rafe have been best friends for a while, and your relationship has become more romantic, blurring the lines between

❄️ 𝓒𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓪𝓵 | 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟙 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

Today you learned you were “casual,” those words never left Rafe’s lips before until your back was turned; you also learned Ruthie can't fight worth a shit. Now, you and Rafe need to have a little talk.

❄️ 𝓖𝓲𝓯𝓽 𝓔𝔁𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮 | 𝙾𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟝 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

You’ve always had a crush on your neighbor rafe but were too shy to make a move. When his package is dropped off at your door by mistake, you decide to make your move and learn a little more about the hot man next door.

❄️ 𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚃𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛’𝚜𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

*part of the “Sorry, Top” AU — writen to be read alone.

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟠 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

You are dating Topper but hook up with Rafe secretly. You and Rafe had agreed that you mean nothing to each other, using one another to get off only, but the more time he spends with you, the more his feelings have grown. You have no idea because he’s so adamant about the fact that he’s using you. So, how would you know? Topper let Rafe know that the two of you had finally had sex, and between that and seeing you together at the Island Club Christmas party, he’s about ready to crash out

❄️ 𝓒𝓸𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓾𝓽 𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓟𝓲𝓮 | 𝙾𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

*part of the “Milkshake” AU — writen to be read alone.

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟡 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

You hooked up with your best friend Rafe a few months back. He admitted to being obsessed with you and was even willing to pay for you to be intimate because he was so desperate. Since then, you have been hooking up, and he promised he would leave Sofia, but he hasn't yet, and you're getting impatient. When you show up for Christmas dinner at the Camerons with your ex Kelce, you can't help but smile while Rafe squirms.

❄️ 𝓕𝓵𝔂𝓫𝓸𝔂 | 𝚃𝚘𝚙𝙶𝚞𝚗!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚊!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝜗𝜚 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝟙𝟚/𝟙𝟞 | 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕜

TopGun!Rafe x Ballerina!Reader have been dating for years. Rafe is stationed across the country on the West Coast, and the reader has landed her dream role in the New York City Ballet, playing The Rose Queen in The Nutcracker on the East Coast. A running joke between the two is Rafe asking the reader if she’s ready to get married yet… that joke is starting not to feel like such a joke anymore. The reader isn't ready to give up her dream.

𝓑𝓸𝓷𝓾𝓼: 𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝓟𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓛𝓲𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂

made with @rafesthroatbaby 🩷

[cherienymphe]

Pity Party

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON (+ mentions of), toxic/abusive relationship, mentions of manipulation, dad!Rafe, established Rafe x reader

➥ While this can absolutely be read as a stand alone piece, it is also the much requested follow up to my WTPO series. I hope this doesn't disappoint!

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You became the envy of every woman in Kildare County the day you became Mrs. Rafe Cameron.

⭑

You slid along the floor using your knees, hand occupied by an even tinier one as your son unsteadily put one foot in front of the other. Your lips were pulled into a smile as you watched him, your free hand hovering behind his back for when he very likely would fall. Your other son was occupied with a snack, and when—as expected—the youngest one’s legs gave out, you scooped him up with a giggle.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “You’re going to be sprinting by this weekend.”

His cherubic face smiled back at you, lips wet with drool, and you wiped his mouth with a smile. Your oldest—now done with his Goldfish—was currently tugging on your dress, and when you looked down at him, he had a wide grin on his face.

“I wanna play with him…”

His soft voice had your own expression softening, and you quietly told him ‘okay’, taking a seat right on the floor where you were formerly standing. You emptied your hands, letting your son crawl around and slap at the ground as his brother followed him, face so close to his as he whispered things to him that he didn’t quite understand yet. You let your mind wander, warmth blooming in your chest as you thought about how…sweet they were.

There had been a time where you feared they wouldn’t be.

…and as you stared at them, you almost felt bad for ever thinking they could be anything less than angels, but it couldn’t be helped. They were children, and there were very few things in this world that were more innocent than children. They both came out squirming and pudgy and perfect—screaming their heads off and only calming once they were in your arms. They came into this world looking at you with the kind of eyes that had never experienced or done a single bad thing in their life.

They were children…babies…

…but they were Rafe’s babies.

And as much as you would like to, you would never be able to forget how they both came to be here. Fighting off Rafe Cameron was hard enough when you were going through a tumultuous breakup, but it became damn near impossible once he managed to get a ring on your finger and a prison around you in the form of a fancy house. You looked down at the large rock, a pang going through your chest at the sight of a simple gold band below it.

The wedding had been the grand fanfare it was expected to be, serving it’s purpose of making you the envy of every woman in Kildare County. Your oldest son—having been an only child at the time—was pulled down the aisle in a wagon with a pillow in his lap that contained the rings. Rose had gushed over you in the dressing room, long having convinced herself no woman would ever marry Rafe and she’d never get to experience this. Your father had cried as he handed you off to your husband to be, and tears had kissed your own eyes but just for an entirely different reason.

Your dress was made for a princess, and your veil was made for an angel, and your makeup was made for a doll. Everything was perfect, everything going off without a hitch. Absolutely nothing—not a single thing—had gone wrong, and even though by that point you’d slowly started to accept your fate…something in you had hoped. For what? You weren’t entirely sure.

You’d hoped that some crazy ex girlfriend of Rafe’s would stand up and object. You’d hoped that your brother would go against your wishes and drag you away from it all. Hell, you’d even hoped that someone would choke on their spit and require an ambulance. Deep down though, you’d known what you really hoped for.

You had hoped that Rafe would do the right thing…and let you go.

It was a silly hope. Rafe Cameron had gone through entirely too much trouble to ensure you’d never leave him, even going as far as threatening to take your son away from you. He—both of them—was the only good thing to come out of this. From the first moment you laid eyes on him, you’d wanted him all for yourself and far away from Rafe. The brunette simply didn’t deserve him, and you had no doubt that Rafe would agree, but his selfishness outweighed any thought of doing what was right. That had always been the case.

You didn’t know why you thought your wedding day might be any different.

Rafe moments away from chaining you to him forever? There was no shot in hell of him walking away from that, and you sighed at how naively hopeful you’d been that day. The sound of your oldest son’s laughter pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked over just in time to see him jump to his feet, promptly sprinting towards the foyer. You weren’t worried, knowing exactly who it was that could elicit such a reaction from him.

You swallowed at the sound of Rafe’s voice, taking your 11-month old into your arms.

“...and how were my boys?”

He came into view as he said that, the messy haired little boy upside down in his arms as he kicked his feet and laughed.

You knew the question wasn’t meant for you.

“I was bad,” your son told him, and you fought back a smile, knowing why he said that.

Rafe’s gaze met yours, and the smile that threatened to ghost over your lips was gone. He merely smirked at the sight, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the boy in his arms.

“Bad? Oh no,” he chuckled. “Why were you bad?”

“I accidentally spilled juice on mommy’s dress.”

Your son’s words came out small, slurring together a bit with his slight lisp. You’d told him that it was fine—accidents happen—but you knew why he was so hung up on it. As awful as Rafe treated you behind closed doors, he treated you a million times better for the whole world to see. He was smart that way, and the whole world included your children. They saw their dad treat mommy like a princess—none the wiser to what the true nature of your relationship was really like—and so they followed suit.

An offense against you—no matter how small—was especially heinous.

“Oh that is bad,” Rafe murmured, setting him down on his feet. “Guess we’ll have to buy her a new one, huh?”

He ruffled his hair, and your son beamed at the thought of going shopping.

You avoided Rafe’s gaze as he neared you, an impressive feat when he came to kneel down before you. Your youngest was squirming in your arms—babbling—and you swallowed when Rafe reached out to lightly squish his cheeks. He pressed his lips to his tiny forehead just as his hand landed on your own cheek, and only then did you look at him.

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, expression unreadable. Your oldest was going on about something behind him that neither of you were giving too much attention to. His blue eyes looked between yours, studying you, and you could smell his cologne. After what felt like too long, his pink lips finally curved into that haughty half smile you were used to seeing.

It never not made you want to smack it right off of his face.

“...and how was mommy today?” he quietly asked.

There were a thousand things you wanted to say to him.

You wanted to say that mommy cried in the bathroom because she still had thoughts of leaving sometimes even at the loss of her own children, but then she’d remember how much she loved them and couldn’t live without them and the guilt would set in. You wanted to tell him that mommy’s thigh still hurt from where he’d sank his teeth into it the night before for daring to tell him she still hated him sometimes. You even started to tell him that mommy had rare moments here and there where she’d momentarily forget their history and find herself content in this big house with her children and fancy ring until she remembered how her children got here and what said house and ring represented.

You didn’t say any of that though.

Instead, you merely blinked at Rafe, and told him what you always did.

“Mommy was fine.”

The vase narrowly missed Rafe’s head, his quick reflexes making your heart sink with disappointment. Your own quick thinking had you frantically looking around for something else to throw at him, but his feet moved faster than your brain, and he was nearing you before you made up your mind. Unable to stomach being around him, right now, you hurriedly sprinted to the other side of the room. You paid no mind to the way he called your name, a blend of anger and exasperation there.

“Are you done…?”

You didn’t look at him, keeping your angry gaze on the floor. Besides, you didn’t have to in order to know what he looked like. You could imagine it perfectly—steely blue eyes cold and intently focused on you, hands on his hips and jaw clenched so hard you’d swear it was about to break. When you finally did glance at him, you were proven right.

“This little…” he waved his hand about. “...tantrum. You’re finished?”

“Fuck you,” you whispered.

You couldn’t hold in your tears, and they spilled over without your permission. Rafe sucked his teeth at the sight, and when he took a step towards you, you made to leave the living room completely. Your sons were with your mom—they would be the whole weekend—because that was the plan. They would stay with grandma for a few days while you went to Charlotte to visit Pope at school. Rafe was supposed to be handling business with Ward, anyway.

He was not supposed to be sabotaging your plans and canceling car rentals and flights and ruining your entire weekend.

Rafe stopped you before you could get far, and you didn’t even attempt to get away, too defeated and upset to smack him square across the face like you wanted. His fingers dug into your skin, and you wondered if a light bruise would be there in the morning. You could tell by the way he held you that he was upset, but you didn’t understand what he had to be upset about. It had been four years since Rafe started this fucked up dynamic he called a family and over two since you’d reluctantly said ‘I do’. You even gave him another son…and yet…

It was clear now that he still didn’t trust you.

Sure, you had the stray thought or two here and there about escaping, but when it was all said and done, those were just thoughts. Your children meant too much to you to just take off, and even if you ever got to that point one day where you’d happily sacrifice their chance to grow up with a mother just to have your own freedom, Rafe would never let that happen. Your fate was sealed from the very moment he’d decided you were it for him.

“I haven’t seen my brother in months. It’s his last year of school, and I didn’t want the next time I see him to be at his Goddamn graduation,” you spat, lips trembling. “You said you were okay with it!”

“Yeah, I was,” Rafe replied in a tone that hinted at more to come.

You were right.

“...but then I remembered that this would be the first time we’d be apart for a distance more than thirty miles and how way up there in Charlotte you could disappear to wherever you wanted and-.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that if we had a normal relationship,” you cut him off, a sneer on your lips. “You wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of me running away from you if you’d never hurt me and raped me and damn near threatened me into marrying you.”

At those words, Rafe let you go as if you burned him, and you reminded yourself how much Rafe hated to be reminded of why you were really here. You were positive he sometimes convinced himself that this relationship was as real as it could be—the perfect parents with the perfect children and the perfect marriage. After all, it was what everyone on the outside saw when they were looking in.

The difference between the two of you it seemed was that you knew it was all pretend.

Rafe liked to believe that it wasn’t.

“All of that aside…do you really think I’d leave them?”

Your question came out whispered, and you didn’t miss the slight twitch in Rafe’s face. Leave them…not leave him. Rafe was smart in knowing that knocking you up would be the only thing to truly prevent you from leaving, and yet he absolutely hated to be reminded of it. To be reminded that it was not—and never would be—him keeping you here.

His expression morphed, a shadow passing over his features as he glanced away, shoving a hand into his pocket.

“I can’t take that chance,” was all he said, making more tears spill over. “Pope’s not going anywhere. You can always see him another time.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth in anger, and when he reached for you, he was stopped by a harsh slap to the cheek. Your lips wouldn’t stop trembling, and you just stared at him as he rubbed his face.

“You have taken so much from me, Rafe,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes at him. “If your goal is to make sure we’re both absolutely miserable…then keep it up.”

You turned away from him, refusing to spare him another look as you made your way upstairs to unpack your suitcase.

Most days in your marriage were okay. They weren’t awful, and they weren't’ exactly anything you’d jump at the chance to relive. They were simply just…okay. On those days, Rafe would wake you up with a kiss, sometimes more than that, and you’d start your day—usually something that consisted of preparing for your children to wake up. They made those days stand a chance at being somewhat enjoyable, and you thought to yourself that maybe one day when they were old enough, you’d tell them how much they did for you without even knowing.

On the days where your marriage wasn’t okay, you were usually overcome with how you really felt about Rafe. Those days didn’t come as often as they used to—a fact you didn’t like to let your mind linger on—but when they did, they usually ended in your tears.

…and Rafe pinning you down and just taking what he wanted.

Rafe had felt entitled to your body long before he put the ring on your finger, but after you took his last name, his entitlement went to an entirely new level. You recalled a day where you had the house to yourselves and how silly you’d been to think Rafe would respect your wish to be alone.

“Do you know what this means?” he’d harshly asked, squeezing your left hand as he held it up for both of you to see.

The 4-carat marquise solitaire glinted under the bright kitchen light.

“It means you’re my wife, it means you’re mine,” he’d hissed, getting in real close and touching your nose with his. “Do you get how patient I’ve been? How patient I am?”

You’d shrank away from him, wincing at the slight pain in your left hand.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but it’s been years,” he’d told you. “There’s a ring on your finger and two little boys walking around with my face. You need to suck it up!”

The counter had been harsh against your stomach as he bent you over it.

The good days in your marriage were even more rare, and even those ended in you feeling sad for yourself. It was usually a whole day of your boys keeping a smile on your face, the feeling so infectious that even Rafe couldn’t make it go away. And that’s how you’d find yourself smiling at him and playing with your children together and actually acting like a family. Only…on those rare days…it wasn’t acting. For just several hours, everything that Rafe was and everything he’d done would be so far from your mind.

You’d find yourself bathing your youngest together—your oldest only listening to you when it was time to wash behind his ears—cooing over the baby that was just shy of turning one years old. You’d let your son run into your arms as he hid from the ‘tickle monster’, playfully pushing at Rafe’s chest as you protected the three year old from him. Sometimes you’d even fall asleep with your head so close to Rafe’s lap as he read to them, your son begging you both to stay until he fell asleep.

Of all the days in your marriage that you’d anticipated being the hardest, the ‘good’ days were not among them. Reality would set in during the morning, sometimes even that same night, and your chest would ache as you held back tears because what you and Rafe had was not real. It wasn’t a real marriage, and you weren’t a real family, and on those days where you forgot that, the truth just hit so much harder. All of the anger and disappointment would come back…and then the fear would set in.

It scared you how easily you could slip into that headspace and live in some alternate reality where Rafe was a good husband and your children hadn’t been the product of rape and you didn’t have errant thoughts of what it would be like to be free of him. It scared you how good it felt to forget it all, how a day might come where instead of finding yourself slipping into that mindset, you just…chose it.

It would be so easy.

…but you felt like you owed it to yourself to hate him forever.

Sometimes he made hating him so easy…and then other times so, so hard.

“They’re so sweet to you,” he murmured in the low lighting, both of your kids fast asleep in their room. 

You’d been trying to find sleep of your own, but Rafe’s phone call with Ward left you both up long after you wanted to be. You were unfortunately wide awake when slid in beside you, and your unopened eyes didn’t fool Rafe in the slightest. He knew you were awake.

“I would hope so,” you murmured, staring at the back of your eyelids as he lightly traced patterns into your satin covered stomach.

Your husband chuckled to himself.

“I mean they look at you like you hung the moon,” he quietly continued. “Especially your shadow…”

He was referring to your oldest.

“I’m barely there for him whenever you’re in the same room,” he whispered. “He’s happy that I’m home and he hugs me, but then it’s straight back to mommy.”

You slowly opened your eyes as Rafe’s hand became flat against your stomach, gently rubbing it.

“He treats you like a princess…”

You met his gaze at that, and you couldn’t quite place the look in Rafe’s eyes.

“...and I’m especially happy about it on days when I don’t.”

You sighed at that, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m glad that he’s nothing like me…”

You remembered Rafe saying something similar years ago before the boy in question had even been born, and you blinked as he leaned in, gently ghosting his lips over your cheek. You were tempted to push him away, but then you asked yourself if you wanted to start a fight so late in the night. Instead, you turned your head to face Rafe, your lips a hair’s width away from his own.

“I’m glad he’s nothing like you too,” you whispered.

You didn’t miss the way his face fell at that, a tick in his jaw that told you your words had the desired effect. Instead of saying something along the lines of what you both knew he wanted to say, Rafe merely heaved a sigh, still gently rubbing your stomach. He suddenly pushed himself up onto his elbow, looking down at you.

A smirk ghosted over his lips.

“I want another baby.”

Those words were the last thing you’d been expecting, and your eyes widened just a tad.

“...what?”

“Let’s try for a girl this time,” he suggested, and realizing that he was indeed serious, you sat up.

His hand fell away from your stomach.

“This time?” you murmured, more to yourself than him. “I don’t recall trying for anything the previous times.”

The mention of what he did to you had Rafe going silent, and when you looked at him, his nostrils were flaring.

“It can be different this time-.”

“How?” you wondered, frowning at him. “How will it be different this time? The only time I touch you is when I’m forced to, and I don’t know, that sounds pretty fucking familiar to me.”

Rafe’s hand had circled around your chin before you had time to react—he was sitting up now too—and you both just cooly stared at each other. He looked like he wanted to hurt you, and you stared back, just waiting for him to prove you right. He seemed to be toying with the thought, and after a few moments, he slowly exhaled through his nose.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his blue eyes following the action.

A million thoughts were racing through his mind, that much you could tell by the emotions that flickered over his features. Eventually he settled on one, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“You’re not always unhappy…”

It was said like a statement, but there was a lilt there that told you he wanted an answer.

“No,” you eventually responded, honestly. “Not always.”

He nodded.

“...but I’m unhappy more than I’m happy.”

He closed his eyes at that, and you swallowed.

“What did you expect, Rafe? Sure, four years is a lot, but it’s also not when I think about everything you did to me.”

He dropped his hand and pushed himself to his feet. You watched him stand there, staring at the wall with his hands on his hips.

“...and what makes it worse is that you’re not even sorry. I know how much you want me to ‘just get over it’, but how am I expected to get over it when we both know you’d do it all over again so long as it got you the same result?” you choked out. “You’re not sorry for any of it.”

You blinked away tears.

“...and now you’re mad at me so much because I won’t roll over and play house.”

You saw his shoulders heave, and you could tell how much this conversation was frustrating him. Rafe really hated to be reminded of his own actions, hated to be reminded of the fact that your relationship was where it was because of him. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were the one trapped in this gilded cage…not him.

“So, if you want another baby…” you quietly started. “...either something needs to change…or you just embrace the beast we both know you can be.”

His eyes snapped to yours at that, and as much as it made your heart skip a beat, Rafe rarely scared you anymore. You’d seen him and experienced him at his absolute worst. There really wasn’t much he could do to you anymore that would shock you…and he knew it. 

His baby blues glinted dangerously, and you bit your tongue.

He did the opposite of what you expected, and you watched him turn away from you to leave the room. You didn’t relax, knowing he’d come back, but you did heave a tired sigh, telling yourself that sleep couldn’t come fast enough.

Rafe’s hand tightened around your throat as he kissed you, the alcohol on your tongue making the kiss taste sweet. The world was moving so slow around you, and every place that Rafe touched felt like you were being gently electrocuted. Deep in the crevices of your mind, you knew that something was wrong. You hadn’t kissed Rafe like this in years, not since the early days of your relationship when you thought you might have loved him, and butterflies were in your stomach at one look from him.

You recalled the sight of your empty wine glass on the carpet, the rest of the red wine you didn’t drink staining the white fabric.

Your kids were asleep and the house was quiet and you were kissing your husband like you used to—back when he wasn’t your husband. Rafe had your back to the wall just barely on the inside of your bedroom, your hand struggling to reach out to the door. Rafe grabbed it, threading his fingers through your own, and you made a slight noise of protest.

He made a shushing noise into the kiss.

“Just relax…”

Relax.

That word triggered something in you, and you pressed your other hand to his chest. You were far too relaxed to be sober, and considering you only had one glass of wine, you knew that other substances were at play here. You recalled Rafe voicing his desire for another baby just the other day…and you recalled the slight back and forth it’d created. You expected one of two things out of Rafe, but neither of them included a scenario where you were too inebriated to properly fight back against him.

There was something especially sinister about Rafe creating this false sense of consent.

His lips traveled down towards your neck as he bent his head, and you felt like you didn’t have control over your body as you threw your head back. You shakily exhaled when both of his hands descended towards your waist, lifting you and forcing you towards the California king. When he settled you both onto it, all pretense was gone.

“Don’t you want a little girl?” he whispered against your skin, his fingers dancing along the place from where your shirt had ridden up. “Hmm? I know you get sick of being with just us boys.”

You made a noise that was unintelligible even to your ears, pushing at his head, but it was of no use. Whatever he slipped into your drink clearly wasn’t in his, Rafe having all of his strength and wits about him as he pinned you down. He kissed you again—slow—as his hands circled around your wrists. It took your breath away, and your lashes fluttered when he descended.

“A princess for my princess…”

You reached out to place a hand on the bed to steady yourself. Although you knew it was the room spinning, not you, and so focused on that, you didn’t even realize what Rafe was doing until the cool air you’d briefly felt against your core was replaced by his mouth. The action made your back arch, and—against your will—you reached down to press your hand against his head.

He hummed in between your thighs.

“You never let me do this anymore,” you heard him whisper, his breath against your skin before he dived back in.

To be fair, you never let him do anything, but especially this. It was too intimate, too loving, and those words were so far from the true nature of your relationship it wasn’t even funny. After all, Rafe was now at a place where he had to drug you just to get you to stop fighting against him. You found it interesting because he never minded the fight before. In fact, you’d even say that some part of him enjoyed it.

You wondered what had changed.

His head moved back and forth between your thighs, and it made you squirm. One of Rafe’s hands reached up to dig into your leg, holding you still. The other found your hand, and you were unable to remember that you didn’t like holding his hand. Another gesture that you felt was too intimate, something Rafe always liked to pretend that your relationship was.

Just when you were on the brink of coming all over his tongue, your husband pulled away, but not before pressing a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh. With stars just barely floating in your vision, you laid there, eyes falling closed as you fought to regulate your breathing.

A voice in your head told you that you didn’t want this, and that you needed to get up…but you couldn’t find the strength to.

When Rafe’s hands were on you again, they were pulling away every piece of fabric they touched, and you couldn’t help the tears that kissed your eyes. Being forced to feign compliance in your own assault somehow hurt a thousand times worse than if Rafe had simply grabbed you and held you down. You wondered if this made it easier on him, and you thought about how much Rafe hated being reminded of the things he did to you.

It was like it hurt him to remember it that way, to acknowledge it for what it was.

When he slid into you, you couldn’t help the small whimper you let out, eyes rolling as he stretched you out. Rafe’s hands were on you, pulling you closer, and as if your arms had a mind of their own, you threw them around him. His chest was pressed to yours as he thrust into you, and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. He cursed when he sank into you again, and your toes curled.

“You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

One of his hands tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck.

“...have to drug my own wife just to get her to fuck me…”

Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back, and Rafe hummed at the feeling. You’d forgotten what it felt like to lie beneath him and just let him have his way with you. It felt like so long since he hadn’t had to force you down and take his cock despite what you may have wanted. Although, your current position wasn’t all that different, but you couldn’t ignore how relaxed you were from whatever he’d slipped you.

Rafe shifted, hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head. His blue eyes glinted in the low lighting, and you blearily blinked up at him as he gazed down at you. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours while still holding your gaze. Your lips parted at a particularly hard thrust, and the corner of his lips curved upwards at the sight.

Deep in the back of your mind, you knew you didn’t want this, but it was for so many reasons that you were struggling to remember. For the time being, all you could focus on was the curve of his cock as he repeatedly pushed it into you and how good it made you feel. One of your legs hooked around his waist, and Rafe’s perfect teeth winked at you as he grinned.

“I missed this, beautiful,” he whispered. “You know that?”

The bed jostled from your movements, and Rafe glanced down between you to watch himself disappear into you. 

“I can’t wait to fill you up,” he told you, making your heart skip a beat and reminding you of how and why you’d found yourself in this position in the first place. “Can’t wait to see you swollen and round again and fucking glowing.”

You murmured his name, but you couldn’t tell if it was in protest or not.

Your mind was all over the place, and when Rafe’s hips curved into yours again, you arched your chest up into his. Sweat clung to your frame, and you briefly wondered how made you would be at him in the morning. You knew this wouldn’t be his only attempt—Rafe always proving to be more than thorough when trying for a baby—and you now weakly wondered about having to be cautious of the food in your own house.

You could tell when he was close, his thrusts becoming sloppy and his breathing picking up. He started  to kiss you more, each kiss becoming  messier and more open mouthed than the last. In your inebriated state of mind, you kissed him back, alarm bells going off deep within your bones. Your own breathing was labored, like you couldn’t get air into your lungs fast enough.

When Rafe came the first time—and you knew that it would be the first of the night—he grunted in your ear as he spilled into you. Your nails were trailing along his skin as he plunged his cock into you, not even stopping when you felt him start to soften, lazily thrusting into your folds. Your own climax was just around the corner when he spoke.

“I will fuck you all night,” he whispered against your cheek, his tone vaguely threatening. “I will fuck you as many times as it takes until you give me what I want.”

He leaned back a bit, his nose touching yours as he tilted his head, eyeing you in a way that made your skin grow cold.

“...and I will do whatever I have to to make you…” he looked between your unfocused eyes. “...agreeable.”

[sematarygirls]

   EX-CONVICT!BABYDADDY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ unprotected p in v, breeding kink if you squint, heavyyyy angst, rafe being an asshole (as per usual), brief mentions of guns/police raid and drugs

NOTES .ᐟ guys, i need him so bad, like actually. based on this concept from my silly little brain. dad!rafe stays in my mind 24/7, but this is me we're talking about, so of course, i had to put a lil spin on it. also this turned out way longer than i meant it to, woah

After almost four years, you were finally starting to feel like you were getting your shit together. You were living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where everyone knew everyone—the kind of place where people literally asked their neighbors for cups of sugar. You had a stable job that allowed you to live comfortably and provide for yourself and your daughter, and you had a big St. Bernard, lovingly named Moonshine after you'd watched one too many episodes of Moonshiners, that provided a sense of safety and security when the nights were cold and the paranoia started to creep into your mind.

Being a single mom was not easy, and it definitely hadn't been a part of your life plan, but then, you met Rafe Cameron—the ever charming, sweet talking man that he was. He swept you up and made you feel like the only girl in the world, like nothing else mattered as long as you were by his side, so when you found out you were pregnant, you were over the moon at the idea of starting a family with him.

But Rafe Cameron was a liar. He was selfish and manipulative, and he turned your life right on it's head.

You could still remember the day the police kicked in the door of your apartment, bursting in with guns drawn, pointed directly at you. You were eight months pregnant and having a gun pointed at you—at your baby—made you physically ill.

They had raided the apartment and found copious amounts of drugs. Your heart dropped, and you immediately felt like an idiot. How had you not known? You knew he made more money than he realistically should have, but the thought never even crossed your mind that this could be the reason. You were heartbroken and angry. Angry that he had lied. Angry that he put you in this position. And, angry that he was leaving you.

Rafe was arrested, and eventually charged with possession with intent to distribute due to the amount of drugs they found, which resulted in a five year sentence. You were sad and angry, not only because you were losing the man you always thought was the love of your life, but also because now, you were alone, and your daughter wouldn't know her father for the first five years of her life.

This anger and resentment festered, mixing with longing and a deep, aching sadness. You couldn't bring yourself to answer his calls or letters, let alone visit him. You didn't know who he was anymore. The man that you saw sporting handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit at his trial was not the same man you fell in love with, and you wouldn't pretend like he was.

You had known Rafe's release date was approaching, but you were under the impression that you still had a little over a year to plan on what you were going to do when it finally came. That's why you were so unsuspecting when you went to answer the harsh knock at your door.

It was a Thursday night, and you were cuddled up on the couch with Moonshine, who was practically the size of you. A horror movie was playing on the TV before you, one you'd seen practically a million times, and every few minutes, your gaze would flicker to the baby monitor on the coffee table that displayed the feedback from a camera in your daughter, Rhiannon's, room.

You jumped a little at the harsh sound of a knock on your front door, the horror movie already having you on edge. You could be paranoid sometimes, especially being a single mom, so realistically, you knew you shouldn't have been watching it so late at night, but they were your guilty pleasures that you couldn't indulge in the light of day because of your toddler.

Moonshine immediately jumped up, a low growl escaping his throat as his hair stood on end. Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, pausing the movie and unfurling yourself from your comfortable position. Your steps were soft on the hardwood, your socks cushioning the sound as you padded over to the front door, patting the dog's head comfortingly as you unlocked the door, completely unaware with what would greet you on the other side.

As you opened the door, the cool night air hit you, carrying with it the faint scent of cigarette smoke. You blinked in surprise, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, you found yourself face to face with Rafe Cameron.

Your eyes widened, the air knocked from your lungs as you took him in. He was changed, broader and more imposing, his muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he crossed his arms. His hair was buzzed, his chiseled jawline sporting stubble that made him look older, more mature.

He looked so different, but still, somehow, the same. You were hit by a wave of emotions—longing, love, sadness, but most presently, anger. Who did he think he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the night after all these years, especially looking so unapologetic and devastatingly handsome.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, captivating and dangerous like a wave pulling you under when you least expected it. "Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off his tongue. The term of endearment fell from his lips without any semblance of warmth as he stared at you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your jaw clenching and grip on the door's edge tightening. You shivered a little as the cold air bit at your bare skin, barely registering the low growls of Moonshine behind you due to your tunnel vision on the man standing before you.

He smirked confidently, knowing the effect he had on you—the effect he always had on you. His eyebrow arched as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs, courtesy of your pajama shorts. "Aren't you going to invite me in, sweetheart? It's been a long time." He took a step forward, his broad frame filling the doorway intimidatingly.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back and let him intimidate you into getting what he wanted. You craned your neck to look up at him, his close proximity looming over you, making him seem even taller and more imposing than he already was. "And whose fault is that?" You managed to say, despite the pit in your stomach—a mix of dread, anxiety, and strangely, desire.

Rafe's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe beside your head, leaning in closer. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you held firm. You couldn't let him see that he was getting to you. "Let me in," he clenched his jaw. His anger at you for abandoning him in there had been bubbling up, and your defiance was bringing it to the surface.

A light flickering on in the house across the street caught your eye. Old lady Flanigan had a habit of making everyone else's business, her business, and she was a nasty gossip. Unless you wanted people talking, you either had to let him in or get him to leave, and one of those would be a nearly impossible feat. "Rafe, you can't be here. You can't just barge back into my life after all this time," you told him firmly, your own eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.

"And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His body was practically vibrating with pent-up anger, his muscles taut as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your face. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about what you did to us?"

"What I did?" You scoffed, anger bubbling up inside you at his accusation, blaming you as if he wasn't the one that went to prison and left you alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The old woman across the street was now shamelessly watching through her window, and you knew you had no choice but to let him in before her nosey ass called the cops on the strange, clearly out of place man lurking in the neighborhood.

He followed your eyes, looking over his shoulder to the nosy neighbor, his expression darkening. Without another word, he pushed past you, entering the house and forcing you to step back.

Your jaw clenched at his blatant disregard or respect for your wishes as you gently closed the door behind you. Moonshine barked, baring his teeth at the intruder, clearly sensing the tension and jumping into action to protect his family. "Moonshine, stop," you told him firmly. You were proud of him, but you didn't want his barking to wake Rhiannon. The last thing you could deal with right now was Rafe and a crying toddler. You could only focus on one temper tantrum at a time.

Rafe's eyes narrowed as he watched you control your dog, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze then swept the interior of your home, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. "Nice place," he commented flatly, turning back to face you. "Where's my kid?"

You took a deep breath, your gaze hard at him calling your daughter his kid, like he had any right. He didn't even know her name or that she was a girl. "She's asleep," you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

His piercing eyes bore into yours, unyielding. "Her name." he demanded gruffly.

"Rhiannon," you informed him hesitantly, your gaze darting to the monitor on the coffee table, making sure she was still asleep.

His expression flickered briefly, a flash of something softer, almost vulnerable, in his eyes before it was quickly concealed. He nodded once. "I want to see her." It wasn't a request. His posture remained tense and coiled, ready to react to your response.

You huffed, running a hand through your hair and heading to the kitchen with him hot on your heels. Maybe you wanted to busy yourself. Maybe you wanted an excuse not to have to look at him. Maybe you just wanted to walk away from him, to assert some kind of power. Either way, your next words were spoken with your back to him. "I told you. She's asleep. It's the middle of the fucking night, Rafe, what did you expect?"

He followed you into the kitchen, his presence overwhelming in the small space. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. "I don't give a fuck what time it is," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I've missed four years of her life already."

You rounded the kitchen island, planting your hands on it as you turned to face him, feeling more comfortable with the counter between you. Not because you were scared of him but because, despite yourself and despite your anger, you longed to touch him and have him touch you. "And whose fucking fault is that, huh?" You asked angrily, echoing your earlier words that he had ignored.

Rafe's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his anger. "Yours," he bit out. "You left me in there," he accused.

"You left me out here!" Your voice raised slightly before you caught yourself, letting out a hard breath. The only way you could keep yourself from getting sad, from crying over the loss of the only man you'd ever truly loved, was getting angry at him.

"You think I wanted to go to prison?" He hissed, rounding the island and backing you against the counter. "You think I had a fucking choice?"

"You did have a choice," you said sharply, bracing your hands on the counter behind you as you stared up at him. "You chose to deal drugs, and you chose to keep dealing even after you found out I was pregnant. Prison was just the consequence of all your shitty choices."

His hand came up, slamming on the cabinet beside your head, the sound making you jump slightly. "And what about you?" He seethed, his chest heaving as his breath came in short, angry bursts. "What about your choices, huh? You could've waited for me."

"I did what I had to do," you said, glaring at him. You weren't quite sure what else to say. You had to protect yourself, your own feelings, and your child. You couldn't have stayed in touch, sick with worry every night while you soothed a colicky baby all by yourself. You had to forget him; it was better that way, easier.

"What you had to do," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the faintest hint of hurt. "You moved on pretty quick, didn't you? Found some new dick to warm your bed, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, the words stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to even look at another man since he went away. You told yourself it was just because of Rhiannon, that you were focusing on raising her and being the best mother you could be, but deep down, you knew it was because your heart would always belong to Rafe.

"Is that it?" he repeated, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, his eyes searching yours for something. "You found some other man to replace me?"

"Maybe I have," you said stubbornly. You knew you were being petty, wanting him to hurt like you hurt, but you also knew you were a shit liar, so there was no way in hell he would actually believe you. "Maybe I have moved on."

His other hand shot out, gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to look at him. "Bullshit," he growled, looking down at you, his blue eyes darkened. "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't moved on to shit."

You stared up at him defiantly, your chest heaving with anger, which only intensified when you felt the wetness between your thighs. Even after all this time, all it took was a look and a simple touch to get you so wet, and as much as you hated it, you couldn't deny that something about his post-prison appearance—how rugged and large he was—made your knees week.

His hand tightened on your chin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was clear he was angry, punishing you for the words you'd spoken, and you knew you should've pushed him away—yelled at him and told him to get the fuck out of your house—but you didn't.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him with an intensity that matched the war going on within you—the jumbled mess of love and hate that he had brought up within you.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your face roughly as he devoured your mouth. He pushed you further back against the counter that was now digging into your lower back, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his anger, his frustration, his desperation, and it only fueled your own emotions.

The kiss was raw and charged with a passionate mix of need, longing, and pure, unbridled anger, both of you trying to show the other that this wasn't a surrender of power or giving into the other and accepting blame. The kiss itself was an argument, a fight all of its own that didn't require words.

He hands went to your hips, lifting you onto the counter and stepping between your parted legs. Tearing his mouth from yours, he began kissing along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His lips were hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin as he continued to mark you.

You panted, your chest heaving for an entirely different reason now as you let out soft gasps and breathy sounds of approval, your head falling back against the cabinet behind your head. You had forgotten how good he was with his mouth, always knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

He took advantage of the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You let out a low moan, your nails raking against his buzzed scalp. As sexy as he looked with a buzzcut, you wished you could run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly everytime he touched you just right.

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, his voice a low vibration that seemed to go straight to your core. He kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hips pushing forward to press his hardness against your core. "Did you forget how good I am, baby?"

You internally rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, like he had won. "God, do you ever shut up?" You asked, sounding less annoyed and effective since you were still breathless from his kisses.

His hips thrust forward again, making an involuntary whine fall from your lips at the feeling. "Not when I'm right." He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smirk was as frustratingly handsome as it had always been, and it made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. "And I am."

"Don't be a dickhead," you glared at him, his arrogance and your own unyielding need for him only heightening your frustration. You were desperate and aching for him, but you refused to give in and beg him like you wanted to.

"Then quit acting like you're not soaking wet for me." His grip on your thighs tightened, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet if I slipped my hand into your shorts, I'd find you drenched and ready for me, wouldn't I?"

His smug tone infuriated you and turned you on all at once. "Shut up, Rafe," you demanded, balling your fist into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, so you could press your lips to his, forcing him to shut up and quit pissing you off.

Your grip on his shirt loosened, hand sliding down his hard, muscular chest to his waistband. You had always seen the trope of guys working out their frustrations in prison movies, but you didn't know that was actually a thing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, sliding it along yours in a way that had you moaning against his lips

He groaned low in his throat as you finally worked the belt buckle open, sliding the leather through the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clank. His hands immediately slid up your thighs, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs—with the help of you awkwardly shifting to lift your ass enough to do so.

He discarded the garments to the floor with his belt, his palms running along your bare thighs as he parted your legs wider, opening you to him. His calloused fingertips brushed against your center, feeling your slick folds, making you gasp into his mouth. "Told you," he grinned against your lips, finding it in himself to be a complete dick, even when he was about to be inside you.

"Asshole," you mumbled, fingers deftly popping open the button of his jeans and unzipping them. You hooked your fingers in his waistband, shoving his pants and underwear down as he had done to you.

He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, stepping between your thighs again. His hard cock was flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He gripped himself at the base, rubbing the head through your slick folds teasingly. "What was that, baby?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "Just put your dick inside me before I kill you," you threatened him, though you both knew you wouldn't do anything, not really.

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You want it so bad, don't you?" He teased, his tip nudging against your entrance but not pushing inside. "Beg for it, baby. Let me hear how much you need my cock." He didn't need to be angry when he could punish you like this. He knew begging was the last thing you wanted to do, but he also knew that you'd do it.

"Don't piss me off right now, Rafe," you gritted your teeth, the feeling of him against your entrance making you dizzy with desire.

"Or what, baby? You'll what?" He pressed against you again, the tip of his cock pushing inside just slightly before pulling back out. "Tell me what you'll do if I don't give you what you want." He was pushing your buttons, knowing exactly how to make you snap.

You practically whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out. "Fuck- fine, please, Rafe," you panted, furious with yourself and him that you were giving into him. "Please just fuck me already."

The confident, victorious smirk that instantly appeared on his face had you wanting to slap him. "Now was that so hard?" He condescend. Your annoyed retort died in your throat as he finally pushed into you, making you moan, your head falling back against the cupboard at the feeling of him inside you after so long.

He groaned as your tight heat enveloped him, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise as he started to move. His body tensed, using every ounce of his self control not to cum on the spot. Four years of fucking himself in his hand was nothing compared to the way you were squeezing him right now.

One hand moved up to your mouth, muffling your growing moans and whines. "Shh," he cooed. You were thankful for it. You knew you had to be quiet, but the way he was pounding into you made it nearly impossible.

"Did you miss me, baby?" He leaned down, breathing hotly against your neck as he nipped at your throat. "Did you lay awake at night thinking about me stretching you like this?" He flexed his hips, driving deep inside you.

You nodded, letting out a muffled "mhm" against his palm as your back arched into him. He felt so good, better than you'd remembered, and you hadn't had sex in four years, so you were so worked up.

"Good," he purred, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Because I missed you too, baby. Missed this tight little cunt wrapped around my dick." The hand on your thigh dipped down between your legs, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

You gasped against his palm, your eyes rolling back at the mix of sensations. You were already so pathetically close, feeling that familiar aching deep within you.

He could feel your weepy cunt starting to flutter around him, and he was more than glad that you were so close so quickly because he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. "Gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, baby. Gonna get you pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna miss a damn thing"

His words turned you on more than they should have, snapping that coil inside you and sending you over the edge. You tensed around his dick, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you cried out his name.

"Shit, baby," he groaned, burying his face into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin as he pushed himself deep inside you, painting your insides white with his release. His breath was hot against your already heated skin, a thin layer of sweat coating both your bodies as he slowly softened inside you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, his hand falling from your mouth to brace himself on the counter. You couldn't believe that after all these years of promising yourself you wouldn't let him back into your life, you had so easily opened your legs and even let him cum inside you—because clearly that worked out so well for you last time.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of finally being home where he belonged. He eventually pulled out, his softening dick slipping from your tender cunt.

You had to tell him that he couldn't stay, that it would confuse Rhiannon to wake up to a strange man in the house, but you didn't know how, not after what just happened.

He stepped back, allowing you to get down from the counter. A silence fell over both of you as you got dressed, neither one knowing what happens now. He finished buttoning up his jeans, his eyes flicking up to you as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. "So... what now?" He asked gruffly, breaking the silence.

"You can't- you have to go," you told him, pulling your shorts back up and crossing your arms. It seemed unfair to say such a thing after sharing such an intimate moment, but you needed to think of your daughter. She didn't even know who Rafe was.

"You're kicking me out?" He echoed, as if he couldn't believe it. "After... that?" He gestured vaguely, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, both of you finding yourselves right back where you started. "You cant just... be here. Rhiannon doesn't even know who you are." The words seemed cruel as soon as they left your lips, but they were true. You wished they weren't, but they were.

"I know. Fuck, I know that. Don't you think I know that?" He was frustrated, your words like a slap to the face. "But goddamn it, I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life."

"I'm not saying you can't be, but... she's four, Rafe. She's old enough that you can't just walk in and call yourself her father," you told him firmly. "It's going to take time. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Time?" He asked incredulously. Deep down, he knew you were right, that you were doing what was best, but he was so angry at himself, and instead of facing that anger and acknowledging that this was his own doing, he was taking it out on you. "I've already missed four fucking years. First steps, first words, first everythings."

"I can't keep going in circles with you, Rafe," you ran your hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. "You do this my way, or you don't do this at all." It hurt you to be so cold. You wanted Rhiannon to know her father, but she was just a kid. She wouldn't understand why her dad just showed up out of the blue, and you didn't know how to explain it to her.

He stared at you, his face unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, he spoke, his voice low. "Alright. Fine. Your way. But you better not shut me out again. I'm not gonna miss anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, thankful that he was going to stop fighting you on this. "Do you have a-a number or something?" You asked, unsure how long he'd been out, if he got his phone back and was able to pay the bill or if he bought a burner. You didn't even know where he was staying.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's the same as my old one," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed by your previous ultimatum.

"Right, okay," you nodded, your fingers drumming against your upper arm. You two stood in silence for a long moment. Rafe didn't want to leave, and you didn't want to tell him to.

Rafe's gaze fell to the floor, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Can I see her before I go?" He asked softly. "Just... just to see her."

There was a shift in his demeanor, a vulnerability about him that told you he really did care about Rhiannon, even if he'd never met her. "Yeah," you found yourself nodding, turning to lead him to her room. As you entered the living room, you could've sworn Moonshine was giving a disapproving side eye. "Don't judge me," you mumbled.

He followed you down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He paused in the doorway of Rhiannon's room, looking in on her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side in a princess toddler bed, her little arms wrapped around a stuffed cat. Rafe's expression softened as he took her in.

His eyes swept over the room, the nightlight plugged into the wall illuminating the space. The walls were painted a light shade of pink, toys strewn about. A small bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, various children's books inside, some sitting on the floor in front of it.

He stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on Rhiannon's sleeping face as he reached out, his large hand gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "She's so little," he murmured softly, almost reverently.

You leaned on the doorway, a small, sad smile pulling at your lips as you watched the exchange. You found yourself wondering what life would have been like if Rafe never got locked up, your heart aching as you thought about sharing all of Rhiannon's firsts with someone, bickering over whether she would've said mommy or daddy first. The wobbly first steps, the soothing and band-aid applications after she scraped her knees. What would it have been like to share those moments with him?

Rafe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's beautiful." He turned his head to look at you, and you saw the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, clearing his throat as he stood, masking his emotions as he always had. "I should go."

You hesitated, for a moment wanting to throw everything you'd said out the window and tell him to stay, but you knew you couldn't. You just nodded, letting him push past you. You didn't move from your spot, even after you heard the front door open and shut. You simply closed your eyes, leaning your head against the doorframe as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

[rafccameron]

please, please, please : rafe cameron.

word  count:  1.6k a / n:  this  is  my  first  time  writing  in  a  while  so  please  be  kind.  i  just  finished  4a  of  outer  banks  and  have  so  much  muse  to  write  rafe  right  now  so  just  wanted  to  get  this  out.   warnings: alcohol  use  ,  drug  mention  ,  fluff  ,  angst  ,  mild  physical  violence  ,  suggestive  nudity(?). summary:  y/n  is  a  kook  and  rafe's  ex  but  y/n  still  harbors  alot  of  feelings  for  him  and  it  shows.  at  kelce's  summer  bash,  the  two  of  you  see  one  another  and  things  seem  alot  more  complicated  than  simply  being  exes. 

you  were  a  kook,  in  most  ways  atleast. both  of  your  parents  coming  from  figure  eight,  but  they  didn't  raise  you  with  the  same  distaste  for  kooks  or  anyone  for  that  matter.  you  were  raised  to  be  kind  and  handle  yourself  and  other's  with  a  certain  level  of  respect.  you're  friends  often  ragged  on  you  for  this  but  you  stood  your  ground  and  most  of  them,  respected  that. 

tonight,  like  most  saturday  nights  you  found  yourself  partying,  kelce  was  throwing  his  annual  summer  bash  and  per  usual  anyone  who  was  anyone  was  there.  ruthie  to  your  side  as  the  two  of  you  made  your  way  out  to  the  backyard.  she'd  been  your  friend  since  childhood,  your  families  more  like  family  than  long  time  friends  as  this  point  and  while  you  didn't  agree  with  her  on  most  things,  the  two  of  you  managed  to  keep  a  solid  friendship.  somehow. 

"  bikini  time  ,  "  she  calls  out  to  you  ,  already  shuffling  out  of  her  shorts.  playfully  rolling  your  eyes  you  follow  suit.  as  your  pulling  your  tank  top  over  your  head,  your  eyes  land  on  him.  your  ex  boyfriend,  or  fling,  whatever  he'd  managed  to  degrade  you  down  to  when  he  was  done  with  you.  kicking  your  clothes  off  to  the  side,  you  glance  over  at  ruthie. 

"  i  need  a  shot,  "  you  groan,  before  she  can  so  much  as  say  anything  you're  already  headed  inside  toward  the  kitchen,  "  or  three.  " 

leaned  up  against  the  counter  as  you  wait  for  kelce  to  top  off  the  shot  glass  he'd  just  pulled  out  for  you,  you  can't  help  but  to  overhear  a  blonde  not  too  far  from  you  making  a  comment  to  her  boyfriend.  his  dad's  dead,  his  sister's  a  pogue  now,  and  he's  an  absolute  dick  ...  the  cameron's  really  have  fallen  from  grace.  you  down  the  shot  handed  to  you,  immediately  turning  on  your  heels  to  walk  over  to  the  blonde. 

"  have  some  respect  maybe?  "  you  can't  help  but  stick  up  for  a  family  that  took  you  in  as  one  of  their  own  for  so  long,  for  the  guy  you  cared  so  much  about,  no  matter  how  frustrated  seeing  him  here  tonight  made  you. 

"  aw,  y/n  still  sticking  up  for  a  guy  who's  never  cared  about  you?  "  the  blonde  bites  back,  her  boyfriend's  smug  grin  enough  to  get  your  blood  boiling. 

"  i  just  think  it's  pathetic  to  kick  people  while  they're  down,  i  know  it's  hard  to  grasp  when  you  have  literally  nothing  better  to  do  with  your  life  though.  "  you  comment,  keeping  your  voice  calm  somehow,  "  i'd  recommend  working  on  being  a  little  nicer,  my  mother  would  never  hire  someone  so  nasty,  "  the  blonde,  grace,  looks  at  you  in  shock  as  you  hang  her  internship  under  your  mother  over  her  head.  "  have  the  night  you  deserve  though,  grace,  "  you  manage  to  pull  a  semblance  of  a  smile  onto  your  face  before  walking  off. 

only  halfway  through  your  stride  you  collide  with  a  body.  their  hand  snaking  around  your  waist  to  keep  you  steady,  just  as  you  peel  yourself  off  from  them  his  blue  eyes  come  into  your  eye line. 

"  rafe...  " 

the  smirk  on  his  face  says  it  all,  he  heard  that  whole  thing  and  more  obviously,  he  was  on  some  mix  of  alcohol  and  coke.  already. 

"  hi  baby,  "  his  words  just  quiet  enough  for  only  you  to  hear.  the  chills  that  reach  your  spine  from  the  familiar  greeting  goes  against  everything  you  want  your  reaction  to  be.  "  don't  call  me  that,  i'm  not  your  baby,  "  your  tone  as  stern  as  you  can  possible  manage. 

"  that  sounded  like  you  were,  "  he  notes,  one  hand  pulling  his  beer  to  his  lips  and  the  other  pointing  over  in  the  empty  space  the  couple  was  once  taking  up.  his  own  smug  grin  basically  forces  you  to  nudge  him  slightly  out  of  the  way  . 

"  shut  up,  rafe,  "  you  huff,  walking  past  him  but  before  you  can  get  very  far  you  feel  a  hand  wrap  around  your  wrist.  "  hey,  wait,  "  rafe's  tone  was  soft  something  you  were  once  far  too  familiar  with.  until  it  just  kind  of  vanished  one  day. 

"  can  we  go  talk  somewhere?  "  his  question  enough  to  get  a  humorless  laugh  from  you. 

"  now  you  want  to  talk?  no,  i'm  not  doing  this  right  now.  "  you  refused  to  let  him  worm  his  way  back  in  or  sweet  talk  you  in  anyway. 

"  just  leave  me  alone,  please.  "  you  manage  to  get  your  arm  out  of  his  grasp  and  before  he  can  make  another  attempt  topper  and  kelce  are  pulling  him  away  talking  about  some  beer  pong  bet. 

you  spend  the  next  couple  of  hours  back  with  ruthie  and  the  girls  although  you  can't  recall  anything  any  of  them  have  said,  your  mind  only  on  one  thing.  it  was  always  that  way,  he  could  go  off  and  completely  forget  about  you,  while  you  stayed  stagnant,  stuck  on  him. 

as  the  party  starts  to  settle  down  you  get  up  heading  toward  the  guest  room  kelce  had  always  kept  free  for  you  whenever  he'd  throw  a  party.  a  little  wobbly  as  you  made  your  way  up  the  stairs,  you  weren't  a  lightweight  persay  but  during  a  full  night  of  drinking  it  was  inevitable  for  the  drinks  to  hit  you  at  some  point.  bryce,  a  guy  you  went  to  school  with  at  the  academy  notices  you  struggling  up  the  stairs,  coming  up  on  the  side  of  you  and  giving  you  a  steady  arm. 

"  hey,  hey  you  good?  "  he  asks,  a  kind  smile  spreading  across  his  face.  you  just  nod,  pointing  up  toward  the  bedroom. 

"  heard  ya,  loud  and  clear,  "  he  chuckles  as  he  helps  you  up  the  stairs  and  toward  the  guest  room  you  point  toward. 

"  y/n,  i'm  gonna  go  grab  you  a  water,  okay?  "  he  says  as  he  settles  you  down  onto  the  bed. 

"  the  hell  you  are,  "  an  all  too  familiar  voice  booms  from  the  doorway.  you  manage  to  get  a  glimpse  of  rafe  just  over  bryce's  shoulder.  he  looked  angry  but  that  wasn't  particularly  anything  new.  "  the  fuck  do  you  think  you're  doing?  "  his  voice  still  raised  as  he  pushes  bryce  away  from  you. 

"  stop,  "  you  mumble,  rubbing  your  hands  over  your  face. 

"  what  is  he  your  new  boyfriend  or  something?  "  rafe  snaps  at  you,  pushing  at  bryce  again  this  time  toward  the  door. 

"  chill,  "  he  finally  gives  in  and  pushes  rafe  back. 

"  just  get  out,  man  "  a  taunting  tone  coming  from  rafe.  before  either  of  them  can  get  another  word  out  or  another  hit  you  stand  up  ,  "  just  get  out,  "  you  huff  fed  up  with  the  show  the  two  were  putting  on.  bryce  listens  almost  immediately  with  a  shake  of  his  head.

"  i  knew  you  didn't  want  him  in  here  with  you,  baby,  "  rafe  smiles  as  he  closes  the  door  and  turns  to  you  but  as  you  plop  down  on  the  bed,  glossy  eyes  looking  up  at  him,  "  i  meant  you  too,  "  you  huff. 

"  what?  "  aggravation  lacing  his  tone. 

"  rafe,  you  can't  keep  doing  this  ...  "  despite  your  words,  you  point  toward  the  bag  you  brought  up  here  earlier,  for  him  to  grab  you  your  change  of  clothes.  he  follows  your  silent  directions,  you  catch  the  smirk  on  his  face  as  he  pulls  out  your  pajamas.  they  were  his  favorite  ones  when  you  two  were  together,  a  light  blue  satin  short  set  with  a  pink  frilly  trim.  "  doing  what?  "  he  his  voice  going  back  to  that  soft  tone  you'd  heard  from  him  earlier  in  the  night  as  he  comes  close  to  you,  giving  you  a  little  tap  on  the  leg  as  if  to  tell  you  he'd  help  you  change.  had  you  not  been  as  drunk  as  you  were  you'd  have  turned  down  the  offer  but  odds  were  you  would  struggle  without  his  help.  "  acting  like  you  care,  "  the  hurt  in  your  voice  is  clear,  as  you  cover  up  your  bare  chest  once  he  undoes  your  bikini  top.  he  goes  silent  at  your  words,  his  bottom  lip  popping  out  as  he  gives  you  a  slight  nod.  there's  a  silence  the  comes  over  the  room  as  he  continues  to  help  you  change,  once  you're  fully  clothes  you  pull  yourself  up  further  on  the  bed. 

"  i  do  care  by  the  way,  "  he  notes,  sitting  at  the  side  of  the  bed  as  he  pulls  as  strand  of  your  hair  out  of  your  face. 

"  you  don't,  you  never  did.  you,  me  and  everyone  else  on  this  damn  island  know  that.  "  you  sigh,  turning  over  so  that  your  back  is  facing  him  now. 

"  let  me  prove  it  to  you,  "  you  can  hear  the  smugness  in  his  tone  as  he  makes  himself  at  home  in  the  bed  alotted  for  you,  his  hand  playing  with  your  hair  and  your  far  too  exhausted  to  whack  his  hand  away. 

"  why?  so  you  show  everyone  how  dumb  i  am  again?  "  in  any  other  situation  your  word  would  hurt  the  guy  beside  you  but  in  this  case  you  knew  they  hurt  you  more  than  they  could  every  hurt  him.  atleast  you'd  convinced  yourself  of  that. 

rafe  goes  silent,  his  hands  still  running  through  your  hair  as  you  slowly  start  fall  asleep  and  for  a  moment  you  could've  swore  you  heard  him  whisper  "  i  love  you,  baby.  " 

[nadvs]

sleeping with the enemy ✮ au

pairing basketballplayer! rafe cameron x cheerleader! female reader

summary after getting dumped by the captain of the basketball team you cheer for, you find revenge in the form of rafe cameron, your ex-boyfriend’s worst enemy. based on this one-shot

rating explicit 18+

tropes both afraid of commitment, college rivalry, friends with benefits to best friends to lovers, everybody sees it, he falls first

timeline when they meet, she’s a junior and he’s a senior at rival colleges. they’re friends with benefits for three months before they start dating. they’re together for five months, then he gets signed with the nba and moves away. they stay together long-distance and she moves in with him a year and a half later. she gets pregnant six months after moving in, when they’ve been together for a little over two years. they get married four years later.

legend ⊗ smut / ❥ fluff / × angst

˚　꩜ ︴friends with benefits 　 ︵　🏀

✮ ࿐ they meet and hook-up ⊗

✮ ࿐ rafe texts her after they meet ❥

✮ ࿐ her ex sees them together ❥

✮ ࿐she learns about his past ❥

✮ ࿐ she hears people talking badly about her ×

✮ ࿐ he takes her out to dinner ❥

✮ ࿐ he fights to defend her ×

✮ ࿐ she rides his thigh ⊗

✮ ࿐ she keeps his shirt ×

✮ ࿐ they hook up in the library ⊗

✮ ࿐ his first time getting jealous ×

✮ ࿐ their favorite position ⊗

✮ ࿐ she cleans him up after a fight ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ a new player on his team hits on her × ⊗

✮ ࿐ he takes care of her when she’s drunk ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ he accidentally calls her his girlfriend ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ they become official ❥ ×

˚　꩜ ︴in a relationship 　 ︵　🏀

college days

✮ ࿐ he tells his friends they’re dating ❥

✮ ࿐ their first time having sex as a couple ⊗ ❥

✮ ࿐ people see the marks she left on him ❥

✮ ࿐ they compete ⊗

✮ ࿐ he does a body shot off of her ⊗ ❥

✮ ࿐ their first fight as a couple ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ he helps her when she’s stressed about school ❥

✮ ࿐ he consoles her after she fails a midterm ❥

✮ ࿐ they meet each other’s families ❥

✮ ࿐ they fight before he leaves ×

long distance

✮ ࿐ their roughest patch ×

✮ ࿐ he has a photo of her in his locker ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ her first night visiting him ⊗ ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ their first ‘i love you’s’ ❥

✮ ࿐ they almost break up ×

✮ ࿐ he misses her after she visits ❥

✮ ࿐ her ex hits on her ❥

✮ ࿐ she gets jealous ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ she drunk calls him ❥

after she moves in with him

✮ ࿐ he supports her career ❥

✮ ࿐ she tells him she’s pregnant ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ the public finds out she’s pregnant ×

✮ ࿐ he supports her through her pregnancy ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ he gets his first tattoo ❥

✮ ࿐ she gives birth ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ they announce the birth ❥

✮ ࿐ he sets up the nursery ❥

✮ ࿐ paparazzi find them at the hospital ❥

✮ ࿐ they struggle being new parents ×

✮ ࿐ rafe snaps at paparazzi following them ×

✮ ࿐ they deal with rumors that he’s cheating ×

✮ ࿐ a clip of her feeds the rumors ×

✮ ࿐ she sits courtside with their babies ❥

✮ ࿐ he’s away from the babies for too long ×

✮ ࿐ they’re overprotective parents ❥

✮ ࿐ rafe as a dad ❥

✮ ࿐ rafe does his babies’ hair ❥

✮ ࿐ their first night away after becoming parents ⊗ ❥

✮ ࿐ they hook up at a wedding ⊗ ❥

✮ ࿐ his daughter attends a conference with him ❥

✮ ࿐ rafe has a rough day with the kids ❥

✮ ࿐ their daughter loves attention ❥

✮ ࿐ he’s afraid to propose ×

˚　꩜ ︴married 　 ︵　🏀

✮ ࿐ they have a problem on their wedding day ❥ ×

✮ ࿐ she gets possessive of him ❥

✮ ࿐ rafe tells their son’s friend to stop looking at her ❥

✮ ࿐ he’s overprotective of their daughter ❥

✮ ࿐ what they fight about as parents ×

[thecameronchronicles]

A Cup Of Sugar

TW: age-gap (reader's over 18.), dirty talk, sex without condom, manipulative behavior.

SUMMARY: Your next door neighbor and crush asks for a favor and leaves with something else...

A Cup of Sugar

The blue house with the white shutters has always been a staple to your cul-de-sac community since you could remember. Block parties pulled everyone together through fake smiles to save face for those who would more than likely be thrilled to not have to speak ever again. But in the politics of jealous wives and HOAs came one glimmer of peace in your existence.

The man in the blue house and white shutters.

Rafe Cameron.

He stood classified to his thoughts, his eyes always dancing over some shaven blades of grass paid to appear so perfect. He offered the waves to those to his caliber and always left you with a kind smile before slipping back inside. And this is how it had been for two decades. Since you were the little girl with pigtails who walked over with your parents to welcome him and his wife to the neighborhood before you could even look him in the eyes. And now, you dreamed of those eyes looking down on you for an entirely different reason.

You were always on the cusp of being noticed, putting increases effort when it was least expected. Even going out to check the mail you made yourself flawless in what you could, only ever getting the politeness from him.

At least until your eighteenth birthday. You caught his gazes lingering, your heart picking up speed, and his words a bit more adult than normal.

-------

A knock pulls you from the mundane afternoon where even the recent slew of TikTok trends over your FYP page do little to pass the time. Once opening the door, you silently curse not giving yourself a once-over in your camera before pulling it open.

"Mister Cameron. My dad isn't here..." The corner of his lips pull upwards.

"I know. I'm sorry to bother you, uh...do you have any sugar?" You stare, helplessly lured and anchored into the beckoning of him. Having always been attracted to the forbidden man across the street of blue eyes full of intimidation and cautious hands silently strong, you find it difficult to keep from showing it.

"Sugar? Um...let me check..." You move inside and hear him follow in uncertain steps before the door finally closes.

Once you come to the cabinet full of baking ingredients seldom used, already aware if you have any sugar it is probably more in brick form than edible, you play the time anyway to keep him in your company.

"Is Madison making something for Cheer or-"

"Let me help..." He stands behind you, shadowing you enough to nearly swallow you in his height alone, as he reaches over the cabinet.

"This cabinet?" You nod, facing him. His smirk remains on you as he makes no effort to actually seek out the sugar and simply holds his hand beside you as if to block you in.

"Mister Cameron..."

"Did you know that when your window is open at night that I can hear you in my backyard?" You blush, trying to imagine if there was anything embarrassing you had done. Played music too loud? Argued with your (now ex) boyfriend and it keeping him awake? Talked to yourself? Only God, it wasn't about him was it?

"Did I? I'm sorry. If I was too loud-"

"I can hear everything from the concerts you put on...to that which you do after you think everyone has gone to sleep..." He leans against you, his cologne dizzying you.

"I..." There is no mystery to his thinly veiled innuendo.

"You heard..." You can't say the words aloud, never having the chance as nobody else has ever been so brazen.

"Everything, Y/N. Or at least enough to know exactly what it is you need..." You blink in disbelief as all words thicken on your tongue, refusing to formulate.

"I-"

"You don't have to deny it. I know exactly what you need....Let me give it to you?" You swallow hard, trying to understand how this is happening. Manifestation truly works if your silent prayers had gone unanswered.

"I don't know-"

You are lifted onto the counter and he stands between your parted legs. It is a quick moment that feels as if it is in slow motion to the feeling of his hands on you.

"You want to know what else I know?" You swallow and nod, curiosity succeeding over logic.

"You can only come with my name on your tongue..." He kisses you with intent. Not to be gentle or loving but to claim. He doesn't wait for you to find breath or even steady against him as he uses the grip on your hips to pull you to him. You hold at his shirt for stability and it only makes him growl as your nails find him instead.

"You need what only I can give you, isn't that right, sweetheart?" You nod, too intoxicated by his touch to want to tempt fate to sober.

"I know nobody will be home for at least a few hours. You know how I know? Because I made sure of it. Now open those thighs for me-" You open and he scoffs, rubbing his jaw as he sees you not only eager but ready as you've completely soaked through your panties.

"I've had to listen for months while you got yourself off thinking nobody could hear you. But I did. And I wondered if you were doing it just to fuck with me or if you were really REALLY that desperate to come...next time, you say my name I'm taking it as a call and I'll make you come. Bet this sexy fucking ass on that." He grips the part of your ass exposed to him before he leans forward.

"Because I've had to hear you and now, you're gonna show me..." He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his cock up and down those lips.

"God, you're so fucking wet, it's almost pathetic." He moans before pushing the bulbous head of his dick closer to your entrance.

"Yesssss." He hisses as you gasp. He's wide, thick, and hot in every sense of the word. The coarse hair usually hidden to the naked eye is now stroking against you as he pulls back far enough to see the slickness you left behind on him.

"That's it....coat my fucking cock." He groans as he continues to thrust brutally and withdraw in almost torturous strides as you are breathless and wordlessly in awe. It is erotic, and almost painful, before he huffs.

"You sound so much better stuffed with me than whatever you were doing. What was it? Hmmm? Your fingers?" You nod, embarrassment rising up your body.

"And it was only me you thought of, yeah? None of those useless boys who can only dream of filling you like I can, right?" When you don't answer, he grips the back of your neck. "RIGHT?!"

You nod as he hoists your flat feet up to the counter so you're completely wide to him. His speed is no longer traceable as he's just pounding into you. Hand stabilizing himself in the cabinet above you, he rams into you with the force awakening something bold within you. You claw at his back and through his hair before kissing him again, instigating it all as he reciprocates with heady excess.

"Trying to get me to notice you in those bikinis and shorts like I could ever ignore you? Fuck, Y/N you're so wet for me aren't you? Gonna come hard? Maybe I should make you wait like you made me." He patronizes behind a humored growl. His head comes back, throwing it in pleasure as his face comforts, mouth wide and almost in disbelief as he grips the flesh of your hips with a punishable clutch.

"You need to come, you come to me. For me."

"Mister Cameron-"

"You call me Rafe when I'm this deep inside of you. Understand?"

"Yes R-Rafe."

"Good. Now scream it while I make you come and then I fill you up." The kitchen shudders around you as he thrusts and retracts, in and out, hard and deep. You were already sore but now you feel expanded and exhausted as he grips the back of your neck and pushes his mouth against yours. Not to kiss, to inform, and maybe even earn through a clenched repetition of "mine".

"Say it!" He calls out as you nod, agreeing in desperation as he showcases his approval on the final snaps of his hips before you feel him flood your womb in all that you were responsible for.

"Ahh fuck, yes I needed that..." He sighs as you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out of you. Without a care to clean up anything more than the space between you, he conceals himself back within his pants and shakes his head.

"So fucking sweet." He walks to the door and you're suddenly left half naked and empty.

"Wh-what about the sugar you needed?" You question, hoping it'll make him stay. With his brilliant smile and tempting lips purposed to a smirk, he grins.

"I got what I came for,. sweetheart." You sit in awe, realizing he took more than he left, including the fact you hadn't come. It was a play for power you gave him willingly and as much as you wanted to be the one in control, you knew you'd falter against him. Having a taste of him, you were eager for the next. Suddenly addicted to the man across the street you've loved and lusted for in equal measure since you could remember...

MASTERLIST

[zyafics]

MASTERLIST: RAFE CAMERON

ᯓᡣ𐭩 mood boards

✦ ethnic gfs | all east asian ༯˖. south asian ༯˖. middle eastern ༯˖. west african ༯˖. southeast asian ༯˖. filipina ༯˖. albanian ༯˖. east african ༯˖. brazilian ༯˖. mexican ༯˖. spaniard ༯˖. syrian ༯˖. afrolatina ༯˖. tongan ༯˖. wasian ༯˖. moroccan ༯˖. armenian ༯˖. egyptian ༯˖. algerian ༯˖.

✦ finish line | fic, blurb

✦ all american sinners, pt. 2 | fic, blurb, series

✦ good girl gone wild | fic, blurb, series

✦ angry god | fic, blurb, series

ᯓᡣ𐭩 social medias aus

✦ HEARTBREAK: LIVE | Masterlist | SFW

fluff, angst – radio host!reader, ex-lovers, second chance┆after a mysterious breakup, you went offline. when you're pulled back to the spotlight to host a radio show, rafe wants you back.

✦ RED FERARRI CHASE | Masterlist | SFW

angst – hs sweetheart!reader, second chance┆ when new management takes over his team, rafe learns that you are part of it. but after years of returning back to the circuit (and him), you return with a new ring—engaged to his boss.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 imagines

✦ tlc | SFW

fluff – rafe hollering at you from the passenger side of his friend's car.

i love you so | SFW

angst – rafe learns you got engaged to someone else.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 drabbles

✦ headspace | SFW

fluff – established relationship, academic weapon!reader┆when rafe comforts you regarding your upcoming exam.

✦ proofs | SFW

fluff – established relationship, academic weapon!reader┆when you need rafe's help to finish a math homework.

✦ mangos | SFW

fluff – established relationship, vietnamese!reader┆when your spice tolerance is different from your boyfriend's.

✦ white picket fence | SFW

fluff – established relationship, dad!rafe | when your baby daughter wakes rafe up, he goes to comfort her.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 oneshots

✦ stay the night | NSFW

fluff – fwb to lovers┆if rafe sees you as a fuck buddy, then you're going to remind him what that truly means.

✦ reality check | request | NSFW

fluff – bsf to lovers┆when rafe gets a buzzcut, it changes how you view your best friend.

✦ finish line | NSFW

older sister maybank!reader, racing rivals┆when your little brother has to forfeit a race against rafe, he seeks your help to replace him and win.

✦ dirty air | NSFW

older sister maybank!reader, fuck buddies┆when rafe wants you as a booty call, you're going to make him work for it.

✦ te amo | nsfw + fluff

mexican!reader┆after a fight with his father, rafe shows up to your door for comfort.

✦ all for the game | request, sfw + angst

reporter!reader, basketball player!rafe┆when you get the chance to interview your first athlete, it turns out to be none other than your ex-boyfriend, rafe.

✦ whatever she wants | request, nsfw

bitchy!kook!reader┆you always wanted rafe, and when he finally came to you, you expect nothing but the best experience.

✦ shotgun wedding | nsfw + fluff

maybank!reader, fuck buddies┆when rafe suddenly has the idea to get married.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 series

✦ brother's rival | in progress, nsfw

brother's rival, secret romance┆when your brother is determined to steal something important from the king of kooks, rafe is going to return the favor.

01 • 02 • 03 •

✦ play fake | in progress, nsfw + angst

fake dating┆when rafe needs to secure a girlfriend, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 • 07 • 08 • 09 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 / END

— extras: 3.5 • 5.5

✦ angry god | sfw + angst

twin flames┆when rafe discovers you're more like him than he realizes, he'll do anything to have you.

01 • 02 • 03 / END

✦ dead man walking | oneshot (for now), nsfw + angst

mafia boss!rafe, reluctant allies┆when a shootout injury is more life-threatening than it appears, you have to save rafe or lose your life.

01 •

✦ ALL AMERICAN SINNERS | Masterlist | NSFW

coke addict!rafe, sex addict!reader ┆ when two addicts fall in love, what's the worst that could happen?

[itneverendshere]

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

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

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe sat in his truck outside the unassuming brick building for longer than he’d care to admit, over two hours. The sign out front read “Coastal Therapy Center” in simple, soothing letters, but nothing about this felt soothing.

Therapy. 

If someone had told him just three months ago he’d be here, he would have laughed in their face. Therapy was for weak people, that was what Ward Cameron had drilled into him since he was a kid. It was the kind of shit he’d spent his whole life avoiding because, what was the point? Nothing ever changed. Not for him, not for his so-called family.

After his mom died, Ward’s solution was to bury it—all of it. Grief, pain, confusion. “Camerons don’t cry,” he’d said. “We keep moving forward.” But what if forward felt like walking through hell?

The door felt impossibly far away, but he knew he had to get out.

“Get your shit together man,” he muttered under his breath.

He could hear his dad’s voice in his head, unforgiving. Weak. Pathetic. That same voice had driven him for years, pushed him to be stronger, tougher, to bury every fucking thing he felt. But it wasn’t Ward’s voice that mattered now, it was yours, the Picture of your eyes shining with tears the last time you’d spoken to him.

He glanced at the building again, still not knowing if he believed in it, if it could fix whatever was broken inside him. But he did know one thing: if he didn’t at least try, he’d lose you for good.

Rafe exhaled sharply, shoving open the truck door, but before he walked it, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. His fingers fumbled with the lighter, the flame sputtering before finally catching. He took a drag, the smoke burning his lungs in a way that almost felt good.

He exhaled slowly, watching the gray wisps disappear into the air. He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. He should just leave. Get back in the truck, drive somewhere, anywhere but here. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, pushing himself off the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked back to the door. One foot in front of the other, he told himself, although it felt like walking to his own execution.The waiting room was quiet, with soft music playing in the background. 

He hated it already. He didn’t belong here, but he chose to stay, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt like a bitch. He couldn’t stop his legs from bouncing as he waited for the receptionist to notice him.

When she eventually looked up and smiled, he nodded stiffly, avoiding her. He didn’t want her kindness. Didn’t deserve it. Rafe wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say when he walked into that first session. 

He didn’t know how to explain the mess, the voices in his head, the anger that raged over and the guilt that followed like a shadow. But he knew why he was here.

When the therapist finally called his name, Rafe hesitated for half a second before standing. She looked normal enough—glasses, sweater, clipboard—but it still made his skin crawl. He felt like she could see through him, as if she already knew all the shit he’d done and thought and didn’t want to admit to anyone, especially himself.

“Rafe?” she called again, her voice patient. He didn’t deserve that either, but he nodded and followed her to the room.

It was small, the kind of place that made him feel like a caged animal, he sat on the couch because what the hell else was he supposed to do, and stared at the floor, picking at a thread on his jeans.

“So,” she started, sitting across from him, crossing her legs like this was just a normal conversation. “What brings you here today?”

 “Huh, what doesn’t?” he said before he could stop himself. He glanced up at her, half expecting her to kick him out right there.

But she didn’t, instead she simply nodded, like she got it, she’d heard worse. 

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with whatever feels the hardest.”

He leaned back, running a hand over his face. 

Where the fuck was he even supposed to start? His mom dying? His dad? The drugs, the fights, the hole he’d dug so deep he wasn’t sure he’d ever crawl out? Or maybe with you, with the way he’d pushed you away until you had no choice but to hate him?

“I don’t know,” he said finally. His eyes stayed glossed over on a spot on the carpet “I guess...uh, I should start with my mom, right? She died when I was fourteen. Leukemia.”

The therapist didn’t say anything, just nodded like she was giving him space to keep going. He hated the silence, how much it made him feel, but he kept going, because if he was going to do this shit right, he might as well not half-ass it.

““I’m sorry to hear that,” she said gently. “What do you remember most about her? What was she like?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, “She was… everything, y’know?” His throat felt sore, “I know everyone says that shit about their mom, but she really was. She was the one who kept everything together. When my dad was being—” 

He stopped short, his jaw twitching at how hard he bite his tongue.

“When he was being what?” the therapist prompted.

“When he was being him, she was the one who’d step in. She’d tell him to back off, that I was just a kid, or that I didn’t deserve whatever shit he was throwing at me that day. She was the only one who ever really had my back.”

“How did losing her affect your relationship with your dad?”

“It changed everything. When she got sick, it was like… I don’t know, like everything just fell apart. She was the glue, y’know? Without her, my dad just—he went full-on Ward Cameron.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed hard, “I remember the day she died,” he said after a long pause. “I thought I’d have more time. They kept saying it was bad, but I didn’t think it would happen that day. And then it did. Just like that.”

He rubbed his hands together, the motion frantic, restless. “I didn’t even cry. I just sat there, staring at the floor while my dad kept saying, ‘We’ll get through this. We’re Camerons. We don’t fall apart.’ And I was like, okay, I guess that’s what we’re doing then. Not falling apart. Just… moving forward.”

“What does that mean to you, ‘full-on Ward Cameron’?”

“It means he turned me into his fucking project.”

“Did he ever talk to you about what you were feeling? About how hard it was to lose her?” the therapist asked, her tone pointed.

“No,” Rafe said immediately,“My dad never wanted to talk about it. He acted like it was this... inconvenience. Yeah, he was sad, but he just buried it, wanted me to do the same.”

“What do you mean by that?” she prompted

Rafe let out a bitter laugh. 

“I’m the oldest, out of three. Not just the oldest— the only son. Wen she died, my dad decided I had to step up, be the man of the house. Take care of my sisters, keep everything running smoothly. Be his goddamn mini-me, like that was even possible. I was fourteen, but that shit didn’t matter. My dad expected me to bury all the shit I was feeling, I had to be twice as strong because I was the only man left.”

“How did that make you feel?” she asked, her tone measured but firm.

“How do you think it made me feel?” he snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He sighed, leaning forward again and dropping his head into his hands. “Shit, sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” she nodded, not the least bit fazed, “But I think it’s important to answer that question. How did it make you feel?”

“Like shit,” he admitted after a long pause. “I couldn’t do anything right. I was pissed at him for putting all of that on me, pissed at my sister for needing me, pissed at her for dying and leaving me with all this. And most of all, pissed at myself because no matter what I did, it was never enough. Not for him, not for me.”

“Do you think you could have stopped it?” the therapist asked softly.

Rafe’s head snapped up at that, but then he shook his head. “No,” he admitted, “I know I couldn’t, it wasn’t my fault. But it felt like it was, if I’d been better—smarter, stronger—she would’ve stayed. Or at least… she would’ve been proud of me for trying.”

He hasn't said it out loud since that night, with you.

She pursed her lips, as she took notes, “You should give yourself more credit, for how much you’ve survived.”

“Credit? For what? Being a fuck-up?”

She barely looked up from her notebook, changing the direction of her questions, “What do you think your mom would say to you now, if she could?” 

Rafe’s throat tightened, and he looked away, “I don’t know. Fuck, maybe... maybe she’d say she’s proud of me for being here. For trying to fix it, even if I should’ve done it years ago,” He paused, swallowing hard. “She probably would think I’m a fucking idiot, I pushed away the one person who actually fucking mattered.”

“Who’s that?” the therapist asked gently.

“My girlfriend,” He bit his tongue, the word stinging, “Ex-girlfriend now, I guess. After my dad died, I just—I started pushing her away. Picking fights over Ward, shutting her out when she tried to help me see the truth about him,” He swallowed hard, his throat burning. 

He hadn’t expected to feel this vulnerable, but now that he’d started talking about you, about what he’d ruined, it was hard to stop.

“She’s the one, y’know?” he muttered, his voice distant as though he was speaking to himself more than anyone else. “I fucked it all up.”

“What happened?”

Rafe let out a shaky breath.

“I was an asshole. I told her I didn’t need her, that she should just leave, like it wasn’t me who was the fuckin’problem. She did—she left, thought if I cut her loose or pushed her away, maybe I wouldn’t feel so fucking broken. Maybe if I wasn’t constantly looking at her and seeing everything I couldn’t be, I could... I don’t know. Get my shit together or some bullshit.” He rubbed his temples, frustration mounting “But then, like a fucking idiot, I started seeing someone else. All I could think about was how much it would hurt her if she found out. And it did.” His voice cracked, “It fucking destroyed her, I knew it would. That’s the worst part—I fucking knew, and I still let it happen, like the selfish piece of shit I am.”

He pressed his palms to his eyes, hoping it could block out the memory of you—your tear-streaked face.

“What do you think that relationship was about?”

His fists clenched again, “A distraction? I thought if I just... started fresh, started with someone who didn’t know all my baggage, someone who wouldn’t make me feel like I was constantly failing, I could just... forget. Forget everything. Forget her, forget my dad, forget how fucked up I was.”

“And did it help you forget?” she asked, her voice steady, but full of understanding.

“No,” He gritted out, “I couldn’t stop thinking about her, even when I was with someone else. Every time I closed my eyes, it was her face I saw. Her voice I heard in my head, telling me I could do better, be better. Shit, all I could do was prove her wrong.”

The therapist leaned forward slightly, her expression compassionate. “It sounds like she means a great deal to you.”

“Talking about her,” He paused, wincing as if he was in physical pain, “She’s just—fuck, man—she’s always in my head. It’s worse than talking about my parents, worse than remembering my mom dying or my dad. Because with them, it’s just... loss, y’know? Her? I had her, she was there. She loved me, and I ruined it.”

“What do you think she would say to you now, if she could hear this?” the therapist suggested, “You don’t have to think about it, if you don’t want to.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He chuckled, but it came out jagged “Shit, that sounded real fuckin’ pathetic, huh? I can’t even talk about her without losing my shit.”

“It’s not pathetic. Give it a try.”

“I don’t know,” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his noise, “That it’s too late? She’s done with me, and I deserve it. I think she’d still tell me to get my shit together and she’s proud of me for trying, even if I’m still the same fucked-up mess I was when she left, even if she hates me. That’s the kind of person she is.” His throat tightened again, and he looked away. “But even if she did, it doesn’t change the fact that I broke her heart.”

The therapist let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again. “It’s clear that you’re carrying a lot of pain, not just from losing her, but from how you see yourself in all of this. Have you ever thought about what it might look like to forgive yourself?”

“Forgive myself?” Rafe repeated, his voice incredulous. He shook his head, scoffing. “I don’t even... know what that would look like, y’know?” His leg started bouncing again, the restless energy coursing through him. “How do you even do that? Is there, uh, like, a fucking manual or something for that shit?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he shook his head, “I keep replaying it. All the shit I said to her.”

The therapist didn’t say anything, just watched him, her expression poised. He hated that, how calm she was when he felt like he was losing it.

He huffed, leaning back against the couch. “I mean, yeah, maybe that’s why I’m here. I don’t even know where to fucking start. It’s just—fuck, it’s just a lot. Too much.”

“It’s a lot of guilt for just one person, Rafe,” she pointed out, “Your mom, your dad, your relationship. And I think you’re right—talking about it won’t change the past, but it might help you figure out how to move forward.”

He scoffed “Yeah, okay. Move forward. Sounds easy enough.”

“It’s not easy,” she admitted. “But it’s possible. You don’t have to figure it all out today, or even next month.” 

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“You’ve already started,” she pointed out. “You’re here.”

You’re here. 

Those two words rattled around in his skull. He was here, but why? To make himself feel better? To prove to himself—or you—that he could do this, could change? Did he even believe that?

He thought about the nights he spent pacing his room, phone in hand, your number glowing on the screen. He’d wanted to call, to apologize, to beg, but he couldn’t. What would he even say? 

Rafe let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his foot tapping out an uneven rhythm. He didn’t have it in him to argue, not anymore. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I’m here.”

He was there, sure, but the room still felt small, the air dirty, his own body too restless to sit still for another second. His hands clenched into fists against his thighs, his nails biting into the fabric of his levi’s.

“You say you’re a mess, but you’re here,” the therapist said after a moment, her tone even. “You’re talking about it, trying to figure out what went wrong and what you can do to make it right. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s given up.”

He wanted her to push, to give him a reason to bolt out of there, to justify why this whole thing was a stupid mistake. But she didn’t, she was waiting like she had all the time in the world.

“Why’s it gotta be like this, huh? Why does everything have to hurt so f-fucking much? Why can’t I just... be normal? Like everyone else?”

“Normal is a lot more complicated than it looks. What does ‘normal’ mean to you?”

He scoffed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know. Not waking up every day feeling like... like there’s this weight on my chest.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze firm but not invasive. “That sounds exhausting.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to my life,” he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s like... I can’t turn it off, y’know?” He gestured vaguely at himself, at the space around him. “It’s just there. Always.”

“You mentioned earlier that you feel like you’re not enough,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “Not enough for who?”

“For anyone,” he said immediately, then paused, his throat tightening. “For my dad, for my sisters... for her. I mean, shit, if I can’t even be enough for me, how the fuck am I supposed to be enough for anyone else?”

The therapist smiled faintly, not unkindly. “That’s what we’re here to understand.”

Two hours later and 300$ short, his phone buzzed on the passenger seat, the screen lighting up with two missed calls and a flood of texts. All from Topper. 

Rafe grabbed the phone, unlocking it with his thumb and scrolling through the messages.

Topper: “Bro. SOS.” “I think she hates me.” “Like, actually hates me.” “Call me back. This is a situation.”

He huffed out a breath, tossing the phone back onto the seat. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Topper’s idea of a crisis was probably that your coffee order had foam when you wanted oat milk or some shit.

Rafe rubbed his temples knowing he wasn’t exactly in a position to play mediator. 

The last call came in five minutes ago, he muttered, “What the fuck did you do now?” and hit the call button.

Topper picked up on the first ring.

“Rafe!” Topper’s voice was a mess— frantic, breathless, like he’d just run a marathon. “Okay, okay, it’s official—she’s gonna kill me or us—”

“Top, what the fuck are you talking about?” He snapped, already annoyed.

“I—uh—Did you tell her I told you?” Topper stammered. “Because she blocked me, everywhere. She told me, ‘Never speak to me again,’ and blocked me! I’m dead. She’s gonna cut me off for good, man.”

Rafe bit the inside of his cheek, “I didn’t, but Sarah knows you know.”

“Why would you tell her?” Topper grumbled out, “You know she hates me too. She’s the enemy.”

“She’s my sister you fuckin’ idiot.”

“Semantics.”

Rafe leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling of his truck. He wanted to hang up, but Topper’s desperation was almost pathetic enough to make him stick around

His friend fell silent for a moment. Then, quietly: “You think she’s gonna be okay? I mean, with everything?”

“I don’t know. But she’s strong. She’s gonna do what she needs to do—whether we’re in the picture or not.”

Topper swallowed audibly. “So… what do I do?”

Rafe sighed, “Give her space. Just… back off and let her come to you. If she even wants to.”

“It’s kinda crazy, right? Asking you for advice? For the longest time, you were public enemy number one. You, the big, bad ex who broke her heart.” Topper’s laugh was nervous, he knew he was pushing it but couldn’t stop himself. “Now she hates me more. Like, I dethroned you. That’s wild.”

 “Yeah, hilarious,” he muttered.

Topper either didn’t catch the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. “A real plot twist. I knew I’d screw up eventually, but I didn’t think I’d ever top your record.”

“Topper,” Rafe growled, “this isn’t a fuckin’ joke. You don’t even know the half of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You mean, like… she really hates you, or…?”

Wow.

Rafe clicked his tongue in annoyance, “The fuck you think?”

"Wait, wait," Topper said quickly, his voice climbing. "You still haven’t asked her? Confirmed all this? What if I—what if I misunderstood or something?"

His eyes squeezed shut, as if the sheer force of Topper’s stupidity might give him an aneurysm. "Yeah, fuckin' genius. Because it’s so easy to ask someone who won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me."

"Okay, okay, fair," Topper admitted, “Your sister could’ help.”

“Again Top, be fucking serious.”

"Yeah, okay, nevermind. But what if it’s not true? What if I made things worse for no reason?"

"You did make things worse," Rafe snapped, his patience hanging by a thread. "You’re lucky she hasn’t shown up at your door to shoot you.”

"Not helping, dude," Topper muttered, then hesitated. "So… what’re you gonna do? I mean, if she won’t talk to you, if Sarah won’t fess up, how’re you gonna know for sure? What if she really is—y’know—and you’re just sitting here like a dumbass, waiting for a miracle?"

Rafe opened his eyes, staring blankly at the dashboard. Topper wasn’t wrong, but hearing it said out loud made his stomach burn, especially after he just spent a good fucking hour talking about you, pouring his feelings out to a stranger he paid for.

Was he wasting time—time you needed him to be stepping up?

"I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, okay? I want to know, but—she’s got every right to hate me, man. How am I supposed to just… show up and ask her something like that, huh?”

Topper exhaled loudly, his usual bravado replaced with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "Yeah, I guess you’re kinda in a lose-lose situation. Damn. That’s rough, bro."

"Thanks for the insight. Real helpful," Rafe grumbled, running a hand over his face.

“She’s blocking me, she’s not talking to you—you think she’s just gonna wake up one day and decide to make it easy for us? For you?"

Rafe sighed, "No. She’s not."

"So… what’s the move?"

Rafe stared out the windshield, his heart pounding in his chest. What was the move? He didn’t have an answer.

"Guess I’ll figure it out," he said finally, voice rough around the edges.

Topper hummed thoughtfully. "Well, uh, good luck with that. And, y’know, if you figure it out… let me know if I’m, like, still alive in her eyes or if I should start preparing for witness protection."

Rafe rubbed his forehead, trying to avoid the headache that was building behind his eyes. "You’re on your own there.”

"Fair," Topper said lightly, “Shit, this is depressing. We should go on a boat ride tomorrow.”

A boat day? He could almost hear the suggestion in Topper's voice: a desperate, half-hearted attempt to get away from it all.

"Yeah," Rafe hummed, "Maybe.”

"Seriously, though, it might help," Topper said, but he could tell the guy was genuinely losing it, "Get out on the water, clear our heads, get some space.”

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, staring at the dashboard “Space,” he repeated hollowly. Empty. "Yeah, I guess.”

Topper's voice came through again, sounding more serious "Just don't stay in your head too long, man. Don't get stuck there. You deserve a break too.”

Maybe the boat ride was the kind of distraction he needed to stop the spiral he’d been going down over the past few days. To stop thinking about all the things he couldn’t fix right now.

"Alrigh’, we’ll do the boat thing."

Topper, as if relieved that Rafe was playing along, responded with a chuckle. “Sweet. I’ll get the cooler ready. It’ll be good. I’ll try not to drive you completely insane.”

“Don’t make any promises,” He rolled his eyes, feeling the tension in his body soothe slightly, though it was still there—a bruise that hadn't healed.

The call ended shortly after, leaving him alone with his thoughts again.

He glanced at the phone, the notifications still lighting up with messages from Topper. He barely glanced at them, his mind turning instead to you, as always. To the things he should have said, the things he should have done. To the feeling of you slipping farther away, out of his reach, out of his life.

He didn’t know what the hell he was doing anymore, didn’t know how to fix any of this. 

He just knew that at least for a little while, he wouldn’t have to be alone with his thoughts.

You were at ponguelandia again for the night, it wasn’t exactly where you wanted to be, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Sarah had insisted, practically dragged you here after hearing about your “severe anemia” situation. Add the fact that carrying the baby could fuck up your health to the point where you’d be bedridden for the rest of your life (or worse), and it was a recipe for a meltdown. 

You couldn’t be alone right now, not after all that. Being around people was better than being alone. 

Her and John B were being everything you needed, so you’d put on a happy face and pretend you weren’t dying inside. They were doing their whole supportive couple thing, and it was almost everything you needed—if it weren’t also so annoyingly them. Could they be more in love? Probably not. It was nauseating in the best and worst way, watching the life you could’ve had with someone else if things had turned out differently.

Then there was Kie and JJ. They were around, too, in their usual JJ-and-Kie way: watching you, but not prying, holding back out of respect—or pity. They knew you’d passed out on the beach two weeks ago and that you were “sick,” but Sarah had spared them the details. Small blessings, you guessed.

You were trying your best to keep up the whole "everything’s fine" act, but it was getting exhausting. Sarah had been the one who knew the real story—about the anemia, the baby, the complications—and she was the only one who knew how much of a mess you were in.

You’d asked her not to tell any of them. That didn’t make the pretending any easier. All they knew was that you were feeling a little under the weather, run-down, nothing too serious. You didn’t want to tell them. They’d never understand, not in the way you needed him to. Not when the issue was...everything.

You were curled up on the couch in their messy living room, a blanket thrown over your legs, you were trying to hide under it. You were just tired of pretending you weren’t falling apart inside. But you could do it for Sarah, she deserved to have a normal night, one that wasn’t filled with you sobbing in her arms. 

John B was sitting on the other side of the couch, there was an awkward space between you two. Not in a bad way, just... you didn’t really know him. He and Rafe had a history, to say things were tense between them was an understatement. But you liked him for Sarah, he treated her right. 

That was more than you could say for a lot of people in her life, so... here you were.

Kie was sitting cross-legged on the armchair, holding a bottle of something that definitely wasn’t soda, while JJ sprawled across the floor by her feet. John B had his arm slung casually around Sarah, who was perched on the couch between you and him, her body half-turned toward you as if she were ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. 

Always watching, always waiting.

JJ tossed a pretzel at Kiara, which she caught without looking up.

“So, tomorrow’s the big day,” he announced, grinning like a kid.

Kie rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“To you,” he shot back, pointing dramatically. “To me? Monumental. Legendary. Historic.”

Sarah groaned. “He’s talking about the party,” she explained, bracing for your reaction.

“What party?” you asked, already regretting the question.

“Just a little thing at Poguelandia,” John B said casually, brushing popcorn crumbs off his jeans. “Bonfire, some drinks, a couple of people. Nothing crazy, it's promotional."

 “A couple of people? Dude, half the island’s gonna show up.”

John B shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “It’s not a party unless it’s packed.”

“Exactly,” JJ said, leaning back on his elbows. “You have to come. It’s gonna be sick.”

You made a face, “I’m not really in a party mood.”

Sarah turned to you immediately, her eyes wide and full of meaning. The look. The one that said, C’mon, you need this.

“It’d be fun,” she pouted, “You could use a little fun right now.”

“I’m fine,” you said, avoiding her eyes and focusing on the popcorn in your lap. “I don’t need a party to cheer me up.”

Kiara raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. Just a chill day. You won’t even have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.”

“And there’ll be drinks,” JJ added with a wink. “Or, you know, drink-adjacent options for those who can’t hang.”

For a second, your stomach almost dropped. Did he know? The way he said it—so casually—it almost felt like he did. It felt like he was teasing you in that obnoxious JJ way, but with an awareness that made you want to crawl out of your skin. But then logic kicked in.

They didn’t know. Not about the baby, at least. As far as they were concerned, you were just sick. Which, to be fair, you were. “Drink-adjacent” made sense because no one expected you to down shots when you could barely keep yourself upright most days.

Still, the comment made you uneasy, and your fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.

“Right,” you grimaced, your voice stiff. “Because nothing says ‘party’ like seltzer water.”

“That’s the spirit. We’ll even get the fancy kind, with lime or whatever. Really roll out the red carpet for you.”

Kie snorted. “You’re so generous, JJ.”

“Hey, I’m a man of the people baby,” he said, throwing his hands up like he was defending his honor.

Sarah nudged you again, harder this time, and you glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. She was giving you that look again, the one that screamed, Just say yes already.

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” you muttered, aiming for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to resigned.

“Nope,” she said brightly.

You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

JJ whooped, pumping a fist in the air like you’d just agreed to crown him king of the Pogues. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“I didn’t say I was going. I said I’d think about it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving you off like the details didn’t matter. “Thinking about it is basically saying yes.” JJ grinned at you, “But y’know,” he started, pointing a lazy finger in your direction, “it’s still kind of insane that you’re here. The literal kook of the kooks.”

You rolled your eyes, “And yet, here I am. Stuck with the pogues. Truly the highlight of my life.”

“Admit it. You love it. The... gritty charm.”

“Right,” you casted a skeptical glance around the room. “Because who wouldn’t love the charm of beer-stained furniture, half-empty snack bags, and... whatever that smell is?” You wrinkled your nose for effect, though you weren’t entirely joking.

The place was a dump.

John B chuckled from his corner of the couch, tossing a piece of popcorn at JJ. “She’s not wrong, man. This place barely qualifies as livable.”

“Livable?” JJ looked mock-offended, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “This is prime real estate! You kooks don’t appreciate the artistic chaos.”

Kiara looked up from her phone. “It’s chaos, all right.”

Sarah leaned toward you, her voice low and teasing. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just salty you make this place look like a dump by comparison.”

“Please,” JJ cut in, leaning forward, “This place looks like a dump because it is a dump. But it’s our dump.” He grinned, flicking his eyes back to you. “And now, apparently, it’s yours too. Welcome to the family, kook princess.”

You snorted, unable to help yourself. “Don’t get used to it.”

JJ clutched his chest again. “Ouch. Cold. But fair.”

The truth was, you did think the place was terrible. 

Objectively, it was, you already knew that since last week.

The furniture didn’t match, the walls had stains you didn’t want to think too hard about, and everything felt sticky, even if it wasn’t. You were used to perfect beachfront properties with matching decor and staff that catered to your every whim. This? It was a wreck.

But at the same time, there was something about it that felt... alive. The chaos wasn’t just chaos—it was theirs. The mismatched furniture, the random surfboards propped in corners, the lived-in feel of a space that wasn’t trying to impress anyone. It made you hate it and love it all at once.

Your eyes flicked to Kie, who rolled hers at JJ but couldn’t hide her smile. He said something under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and she shoved his shoulder in mock annoyance. He grinned at her, that lazy grin he probably didn’t even realize he saved just for her. And she was trying so hard to look unimpressed, but her expression softened anyway, she couldn’t help herself.

Sarah caught you looking and smirked, nudging you. “Cute, right?” she whispered.

You gave her a half-smile, more honest this time. “Annoyingly so.”

JJ, oblivious to the exchange, flopped onto his back. “I don’t know why you all keep insulting my hospitality. If this was a five-star resort, it wouldn’t have vibes.”

“Yeah, vibes of a condemned building,” you grumbled back, unable to help yourself.

And when everyone laughed—Kie’s chuckle, Sarah’s giggle, JJ’s full-blown cackle—you hated yourself a little for loving it here, even as you pretended you didn’t.

Would things have been different if you hadn’t been born a Kook?

The thought hit you out of nowhere, unwelcomely, like it always did when you let your guard down. Would your family still be alive if you weren’t wrapped up in the trappings of wealth and privilege? If your dad hadn’t been able to afford that stupid private jet, if your mom hadn’t insisted on using it for every family trip, if your sister hadn’t tagged along on that one last flight...

It was a cruel, useless spiral of what-ifs that never went anywhere but still had you choking on guilt every time. Because it wasn’t just the money. It was the whole stupid kook world—the private schools, the country clubs, the constant need to show off and be better than everyone else. That world had shaped your family, pushed them into the roles they played, and it had been the death of them, literally and figuratively.

You wondered, not for the first time, if they would’ve been safer if you’d all been normal. Just some middle-class family driving to vacations in an old station wagon, complaining about rest-stop food and fighting over the radio. Maybe your parents wouldn’t have been so busy, and maybe your sister wouldn’t have been on that flight at all.

Your throat burned, and you blinked hard, trying to push the thoughts back where they belonged. The pogues were still talking, still laughing, completely unaware of the war blazing in your head.

“You’re lucky to be here, kook princess. You’re getting the real-life experience.”

You forced a weak smile, still staring at the popcorn. “The real-life experience.”

If this was real life, you thought bitterly, maybe you wouldn’t have so much to regret. Maybe you’d still have them. Maybe you’d even know who you were outside of the perfect, shiny bubble you’d grown up in—one that had popped so catastrophically you were still finding pieces of it in your skin.

Maybe if you hadn’t been born a kook, you wouldn’t have met Rafe when you were kids. You wouldn’t have been his best friend, wouldn’t have spent your whole childhood trailing after him, clinging to every crooked smile and reckless dare like they were proof that you mattered.

You wouldn’t have fallen in love with him at sixteen, back when you thought love meant him driving you to the beach in his dad’s truck, his hand on your thigh, telling you you were the only person who really got him. You wouldn’t have had your heart broken by him now, when he was with someone else. Your hand drifted to your stomach, a subconscious gesture that made your breath hitch. You wouldn’t be pregnant with his kid, either. Or sick.

You’d built this whole life around him without even realizing it.

Would it have been better? Not having Rafe at all?

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to imagine a version of your life where he’d never existed, where you didn’t have his name carved into your heart. Where you weren’t here now, still loving him. Where you weren’t pregnant and alone while he was somewhere else.

The truth—the awful, undeniable truth—was that you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

For all the ways he’d broken you, Rafe had been the one to hold you together when everything else fell apart, the one who pulled you out of bed when you couldn’t find the strength, who made you laugh when you thought you’d forgotten how.

If it weren’t for him, you didn’t know if you’d even be here now.

And you wouldn’t trade the sound of his laugh for anything in the world. Not the condescending biting one he used to throw around when he was being an ass, but the real one, the one that came out when he was caught off guard. 

Even if you hated him, you couldn’t regret him. Not all the way. Not enough to wish he’d never been in your life. Despite all of it—he’d been there when no one else was, that was enough to keep him tethered to your heart, even now, when you wished it wasn’t.

“Earth to princess,” Kiara's voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back to the dimly lit room and the blanket over your legs. She waved a hand in front of your face, “You still with us, or are you planning your escape route?”

You forced a smile, “Just trying to figure out how I got roped into your weird little cult, that’s all.”

They laughed, the sound was bright enough to pull you out of your head, just for a moment. It wasn’t the same as Rafe’s laugh, but it was something. Right now, you’d take it.

When you woke up, the house was already buzzing. 

The pogues were up and at it, setting up for whatever party they had planned. You’d slept in, which wasn’t like you, but Sarah had all but forced you to stay in bed last night, insisting you needed the rest. She’d even made John B sleep on the couch so you could take his spot in their bed. You felt bad—guilty, really—you tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but Sarah was Sarah. Stubborn, loyal, annoyingly sweet Sarah.

The morning, however, had been nothing short of a disaster.

You barely made it out of bed before you were sprinting to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet like you’d had one too many shots at a party the night before. Except, this wasn’t from partying—it was the fucking morning sickness. Thank God everyone else was outside setting up, or you’d have to deal with their questions.

You stayed in the bathroom longer than you wanted to, rinsing your mouth out and glaring at yourself in the mirror like your reflection was to blame for your misery. Your hair was a mess, your skin looked pale. You looked like shit.

To make matters worse, the house was painfully loud. Every noise from outside echoed through the shitty walls, stabbing into your head. The party. Where everyone would be drinking, laughing, and probably noticing that you were the only one sitting in a corner looking like you’d been hit by a train.

Groaning, you wiped your face with a cold washcloth. “Fuck,” you complained under your breath, glaring at yourself in the mirror. 

You grabbed the bottle of pre-natal vitamins from your bag, the ones that looked like horse pills, and twisted off the cap. The nausea was already crawling up your throat again, and the last thing you wanted was to shove a giant vitamin down your stomach.

You didn't have much of a choice. You needed it, not just for the baby, but because of the anemia. If you didn't stay on top of it, you’d end up worse than you felt now—and that was already a nightmare you were trying to avoid.

You stared at the pill in your hand, mentally preparing yourself.

“Just swallow it,” you muttered, willing yourself into doing it. It took a moment, but you finally threw it back. You chased it down with a sip of water, grimacing as it settled in your stomach. It felt like you were choking on a rock, and you had to fight to keep your stomach from revolting all over again.

For a while, you sat back on the edge of the bed, elbows on your knees, head in your hands, hating the lingering taste of bile in your mouth even after your oral hygiene.

You let yourself fall back, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily, pressing a hand to your stomach, not out of affection but frustration.

"I’m trying here, okay? Can you at least meet me halfway?" you muttered.

The distant noises and commotion from outside seeped in through the window, but it only made you feel more isolated. You reached for your phone, scrolling aimlessly through notifications you didn’t care about. A text from Sarah popped up: "Take your time. We’ve got it covered out here.”

You tossed the phone aside, rubbing your temples. You wished you could just stay here all day, curled up under the covers, but the thought of Sarah’s concerned face, of the inevitable questions and glances, made that impossible. You were tired of being a problem, tired of being the fragile one everyone tiptoed around.

You sighed, knowing there was no way you’d make it through this day without looking like total crap. You grabbed a hoodie from the back of the door, tossed your hair up into a bun, and made your way downstairs.

You found her in the kitchen, already pouring drinks and bossing JJ and Pope around. She spotted you lingering in the doorway and waved you off before you could say anything.

“Nope,” she shook her head, clicking her tongue at you like you were a misbehaving child. “Don’t even think about it. Go sit down. Rest. It’s gonna be a long day, and you need it, okay?”

You blinked at her, then at the mess around the house. Decorations were half-done outside, the tables and counter were an explosion of snacks, and JJ was currently trying to balance three folding chairs in one hand like a party trick. Kie was arguing with John B about where the cooler should go, and Sarah was somehow keeping it all from falling apart.

You leaned against the doorway, hand still on your stomach, glaring at her as she poured some sort of drink into a plastic cup. “You could’ve woken me up. I’m not completely useless.”

Sarah spun around, eyebrows raised and gave you a look that could kill. “Uh, no, you don’t get to complain. I let you sleep in because you need it, and I’m not about to let you overdo it, okay.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “I feel like a freeloader right now.”

“You’re not a freeloader,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “You’re my sister. And you’ve been through... a lot. So just chill. We’ve got this.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re pregnant, which means you’re officially on my do-not-let-her-do-anything list. Now go sit your ass down before I make one of them carry you.”

“Don’t drag them into this,” you muttered, but you were already giving up the fight. Sarah was like a pit bull when she made up her mind, and there was no arguing with her. You nodded reluctantly, letting her win this one. It wasn’t like you had the energy to argue anyway.

Outside, the rest of the group was scattered around the yard, setting up for what promised to be a classic pogues-style party. Pope and Cleo had arrived at some point; Pope was trying to figure out how to hang a string of lights between two trees, while Cleo stood nearby, holding a roll of tape and offering sarcastic commentary.

“Maybe if you’d let me do it, we wouldn’t be out here for an hour,” Cleo teased, tilting her head.

“And maybe if you didn’t talk so much, I could concentrate, baby.”

JJ was dragging a cooler across the sand, muttering something about how “beer doesn’t carry itself,” while Kie followed behind him, laughing and tossing bags of chips into a pile on the picnic table.

Sarah joined you on the porch, a can of sparkling water in her hand. “See? We’ve got it under control,” she said, gesturing to the scene in front of you. “Now, sit down, relax, and enjoy the show.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about you? Aren’t you gonna take your own advice?”

Sarah grinned, “I’ll relax when the party starts. For now, my mission is to make sure you don’t lift a finger.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” she replied, linking her arm through yours.

And she wasn’t wrong. As much as you hated being doted on, it was hard not to appreciate everything she’d been doing for you.

Cleo spotted you from across the yard and waved, her smile wide and warm. “Yo! You gonna come hang out or just stand there looking pretty?”

“Both,” JJ called out, smirking as he cracked open a beer.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. 

“I said pretty, rude boy. It doesn’t include your ass.”

“Cleo, you wound me. I thought we had something special.”

“Yeah, it’s called my patience, and it’s runnin’ real thin,” Cleo yelled back, smirking as she handed Pope the tape. “Here. Fix your mess before the whole damn tree comes down.”

Pope muttered something under his breath but took the tape anyway, climbing back onto the ladder. “You could’ve just done this yourself if you were so sure about it.”

“And rob you of the chance to prove me wrong? Never,” Cleo quipped, crossing her arms as she stepped back to watch him work.

The two of you headed toward the table where Kie was busy arranging snacks, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“How are we still out of guac?” She muttered, her tone more annoyed than concerned. “I swear I made enough to feed an army.”

“Your boyfriend happened,” Sarah said without missing a beat. “I saw him sneak off with a bowl earlier.”

Kie groaned, hands on her hips as she glared at the blonde boy, who was now lounging in a chair with his feet propped up on the cooler.

“You are a menace to society.”

“And yet, here I am, invited to all your parties,” JJ replied, raising his beer in a mock toast. 

Kie grabbed a chip and threw it at him, hitting him square in the forehead, "It's your party too, dick."

“Guys,” Pope called out from the ladder, sounding exasperated. “Can someone just hold the other end of the lights? I’m not trying to die out here.”

“I got it,” Cleo said, strolling over and grabbing the string of lights. “Don’t let go of that tape, or you’re on your own.”

Cleo had finally climbed up the ladder with Pope, muttering something sarcastic, only for him to pull her into a quick kiss that made her giggle.

It wasn’t long before everyone started getting ready for the party. It was only around 3:30, but you could tell everyone was in full-on prep mode, running around and grabbing last-minute things. You figured you should probably start getting ready, too, if you wanted to make it to the party without looking completely out of it.

You escaped, fully aware that Sarah would check on you soon if you didn’t start moving. Sitting on the bed, you scrolled aimlessly for outfit inspiration, but everything felt wrong—too tight, too flashy, or too… not you. You hadn’t exactly packed for a pogues-style party, and the thought of showing up in your worn-out jeans or one of John B’s oversized T-shirts made you shudder.

Sarah���s closet caught your eye, the door slightly ajar. A beacon of decent fashion that you knew was still hiding in there, despite her efforts to shed the kook label. She still had a few relics from her old life, buried beneath tie-dye and frayed denim.

You’d teased her about it last week, calling her out for keeping a little piece of her former self tucked away. She’d rolled her eyes and said, “A girl’s gotta have options.”

Today, you needed those options.

You bypassed the flashier options in favor of something understated. Nestled between a linen sundress and a denim jacket was exactly what you needed: a simple, fitted black dress. It was sleeveless, with a subtle scoop neckline and a hemline that hit just above the knee. The fabric was soft and unassuming but hugged your frame just right, giving it a quietly polished look.

“This one,” you murmured, pulling it off the hanger. It wasn’t loud or overly attention-grabbing—more like the kind of dress that someone who didn’t need to try would wear. 

Elegant, minimal, perfect.

Sliding it on, you immediately felt the difference. It didn’t scream for attention, but it made you feel put together, which was exactly what you needed right now. You ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles before stepping into a pair of nude sandals you’d found shoved in the back of the closet. Flat, simple, and mercifully easy to walk in.

Sarah popped her head in just as you were brushing your hair out into soft waves. “There she is,” she said, giving you a once-over. “God forbid you wear something ugly, huh?”

You tugged lightly at the hem of the dress. “I’m doing this closet justice.”

“You are. I forgot I even had that dress or I would've given it away."

“Thank God for that,” you replied, slipping on a simple gold bracelet you found on her dresser. “The pogues' style is great and all, but I have my limits.” You hadn’t even touched your makeup yet. With a sigh, you glanced at Sarah. “I’ll be ready in five.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t tease, already heading downstairs to check on the others. You glanced at the clock—it was almost party time, but you needed a few more minutes to look presentable.

You grabbed her makeup bag from her vanity and settled in front of the mirror. Starting with a light layer of foundation, you evened out your complexion. You weren’t trying to hide anything; you just needed to look less like you’d just rolled out of bed.

For the first time in what felt like years, you weren’t thinking about the baby. You weren’t worrying about keeping your secret from Rafe or everyone else around you. You weren’t wrapped up in the anxiety of it all. Instead, you were just doing something that felt simple, that belonged to your age—putting on makeup, getting ready for a party, like a normal twenty-year-old something woman.

This was the most normal you’d felt in months.

You’d been so consumed with everything pregnancy-related, trying to stay on top of your emotions while dealing with the fear of being found out. It was exhausting. You had forgotten what it felt like to be carefree, to be you—not just someone wrapped up in worry. There was something so familiar about it—the way the brush swept across your skin, the way you mixed your bronzer just right to highlight your cheekbones. It felt like the old you. Who knew this shit could be so therapeutic?

A soft sigh slipped from your lips. You needed more moments like this. Simple, easy moments where you didn’t have to think about the rest of the world. Just doing your makeup. Just getting dressed. Just being you—even for a little while.

When you made your way downstairs again, the mess had somehow multiplied. The house was alive with movement, and the sound of JJ yelling something unintelligible from the backyard. People had already started arriving—pogues, and a handful of kooks who never missed a good party. You spotted Sarah in the kitchen, pouring drinks into a massive punch bowl, looking entirely in her element.

You sidled up to Kie, who was setting out plates of food with military precision. “Hey, you need any help with this? Or anything, really?”

Kie glanced up, her brows shooting toward her hairline as she appraised you. “Is this the control freak in you?”

“Funny,” you deadpanned, leaning on the counter. “Seriously, though. Put me to work.”

She snorted, grabbing a handful of napkins and shoving them into your hands. “Fine. You can help set these out on the tables outside. But if Sarah catches you, this conversation didn’t happen.”

“Deal.” 

The yard looked like something out of a fever dream. String lights were half-strung between trees, chairs and tables were scattered everywhere. A cooler sat precariously close to tipping over, its contents already being raided by JJ, who was popping open another beer while Cleo scolded him for being “absolutely useless.”

You moved through the yard, laying out napkins and straightening plates, feeling some of the earlier tension and sleep deprivation ease from your back. It felt good to do something normal, something productive. By the time you circled back to the porch, Sarah was waiting for you, hands on her hips and a knowing look in her eyes. “I thought I told you to sit down.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Kie needed help. I’m fine.”

Sarah didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she handed you a cup of water and gestured toward one of the chairs on the porch. “At least pretend you’re taking it easy, okay? You’re gonna need your energy when this party really gets going.”

You rolled your eyes but took the seat, sipping the drink as you watched the guests buzz around the yard. 

Cleo and Kiara were already in tears laughing as JJ dramatically narrated Pope’s “world record attempt,” complete with fake announcer voice. By the time Pope finally flipped upside down with his help, everyone was cheering loud enough to drown out the music blasting from the backyard speakers.

JJ was yelling something about “legendary keg stand form” as Pope balanced upside down on the keg, supported by Cleo and a very unenthused Kie.

It was hilarious watching his usually composed demeanor dissolve into giggles as beer dripped down his face, but even funnier was JJ hyping him up like this was the Olympics. “That’s my boy! New record! Somebody time this shit!”

You laughed, for once letting yourself enjoy the day. It felt good to be surrounded by fun, to not be caught up in your head for a change. Maybe Sarah had been right—you needed this.

For once, you were wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. It felt so good to do it too, to feel like you were part of something instead of just watching from the sidelines. You could breathe again.

Pope wobbled, barely lasting ten seconds before collapsing onto the grass. JJ threw his arms up like they’d just won the championship, shouting, “A legend was born tonight!”

You felt all the stress and heaviness you’d been dragging and moping around had finally been put on pause.

Then, subtle at first, a tickle at the back of your neck, a whisper of unease. You moved around on the railing, trying to shake it off. You glanced around, casually at first, scanning the crowd. Everyone seemed caught up in something—JJ was on his third keg stand attempt, Kie and Cleo were busy arguing over the playlist, and the rest of the partygoers were either dancing or clustered around the fire pit.

Nothing out of the ordinary. You tried to ignore it at first, brushing it off as your brain’s way of being a buzzkill. It had a way of doing that—ruining a perfectly good night with its tendency to overanalyze everything.  You were having a good time, and you weren’t about to let paranoia ruin it.

But then you spotted her, Sofia.

She was standing near the back door, lit by the string lights strung across the porch, holding a beer cup. And she was staring at you.

Not just a quick glance, not the way someone looks when they’re zoning out. No. This was…staring. Your stomach twisted. This couldn’t be about you, she was just drunk and in her feelings or whatever. But there was something about the way she looked—sad, almost heartbroken—that made you want to bolt home.

You turned away, feeling like you couldn’t breathe, the night wasn’t as fun anymore. Maybe she wasn’t even looking at you. Except, you couldn’t shake it. You drained the rest of your water and headed inside to refill it, telling yourself you needed a second to breathe.

But of course, the second you stepped into the kitchen, Sofia was there.

She was crying—full-on crying—her mascara smudged and her cheeks streaked with tears. She was drunk, that much was obvious, so drunk she had to grab the counter.

Jesus.

 “Uh…? Are you okay?”

You weren’t Sofia’s biggest fan.

She had the love of your life—the guy you’d once thought was it for you—and that alone made it impossible to feel anything but complicated about her. Add to that the fact that she was a pogue, and… you’d never been friends.

The last thing you wanted to do tonight was play therapist, especially not for her. But she was still a girl, drunk and crying in the middle of a party, and no matter how much history—or lack thereof—existed between you, there was no way you were going to leave her like that.

You sighed, setting your cup down on the counter, “Do you need to sit down? Water?”

She only sobbed harder. Okay, not helping, noted.

“Hey, sit down,” you murmured, guiding her to the bench by the window. She didn’t resist, collapsing onto it.

Her eyes glassy and red. She looked up at you like you were the last person she wanted to see, but also, somehow, the only one she needed.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice cracked. “I shouldn’t—this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You crouched down in front of her, arms resting on your knees as you tried to figure out what the hell she meant. “What wasn’t supposed to happen? Did someone do something to you?”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head hard enough to make her curls bounce. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just… it’s Rafe. He—” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands.

The second she said his name—Rafe—you already knew.

You didn’t know the details, didn’t need them, but you knew it was going to hurt like a bitch. That name always did.

Sofia’s voice cracked again, her words coming out between hiccuping breaths and slurred apologies, but you’d already braced yourself for whatever you were about to hear.

And yet, when she finally said it—he dumped me—it still felt like someone had thrown a bucket of water in your face.

What the fuck were you supposed to say to that?

"I’m not sure what you want me to do with this."

She flinched, her glassy eyes darting up to meet yours, but she didn’t say anything, just sniffled and stared at you like you had all the answers. You didn’t. Not for her.

"You’re upset, I get that," you continued, "But coming to me about Rafe? Really? What did you think was going to happen here?"

Her lip trembled, you thought she might start wailing again. "I—I didn’t plan this, okay? I just… I didn’t know who else to—"

On one hand, you felt bad for her.

How could you not? She was drunk, sobbing, in a way that felt painfully familiar. But on the other hand… what the fuck did she expect? She’d dated Rafe—your Rafe—knowing you were a six-year-long shadow she could never step out of.

She was with him knowing now she wanted you to what? Comfort her? Be her shoulder to cry on?

This wasn’t the time to be petty or mean, not when she was looking at you like you were the only person who could possibly understand.

“H-he dumped me,” she repeated, her voice cracking. “said… he said he’s not over you. That he c-can’t give me what I d-deserve because… because his heart’s still with you.”

You pursed your lips, a tangled knot of guilt, and something dangerously close to vindication swimming in your head.

Of course, it felt good to hear it—of course it did. But that didn’t make it easier to watch another girl fall apart in front of you because of him. As pathetic as it was, you knew what it felt like to be that girl.

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the snarky comment sitting on your tongue. As much as this whole thing screamed bad decision after bad decision, she was still here, crying her eyes out, and you weren’t heartless. Not entirely, anyway.

“I knew,” she whispered, “I knew he wasn’t over you. From the beginning. I thought I c-could… I don’t know. Change his mind?” She let out a choked sob. “I’m sittin' h-here, drunk and crying to you, of all people, because I d-didn’t li-isten to my gut when it told me to walk away. I’m sorry,” she blubbered, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You probably hate me.”

You didn’t answer right away because, yeah, she wasn’t entirely wrong. You didn’t like her, that was for damn sure. But hate? Hate took too much energy.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Couldn’t say what you really thought—that she should’ve walked away, that no one could ever fill a space someone else left behind. So instead, you sat down beside her.

“I know it doesn’t help,” you said finally, “but it’s not your fault. Rafe… he’s complicated. He doesn’t know what he wants half the time, and even when he does, he’s too scared to hold on to it.”

She looked at you through teary eyes. “He held on to you for years.”

“Yeah. And look how that turned out.”

"If this is how I feel now, I can’t even imagine what you went through."

You bit your lip. She honestly thought this was the time for some heartfelt apology? God, bless her heart—no, scratch that, bless her delusions. She was standing there, looking like a wet mess, telling you she couldn’t imagine how you felt? If only she knew.

You sighed, grabbing a towel from the counter and tossing it at her. "Here. Fix your face. You look like you’ve been crying in a frat basement."

She caught the towel, her cheeks burning as she dabbed at her ruined makeup. "I—thanks," Her voice shook as she continued her drunk ramble, "I didn’t know... I didn’t realize how bad it hurt you."

You took a breath, part of you wanting to snap at her, tell her it was too little, too late. You could’ve easily unleashed all the venom you’d kept inside for so long. But then, there was that little voice in your head—one that, surprisingly, wasn’t making fun of her. You couldn’t be that cruel, you weren’t heartless, no matter how complicated things had gotten.

Sofia, in this state—drunk, emotional—didn’t deserve that. 

"You need to get your shit together, stop letting your entire world revolve around him.” You could see her flinch at that last part, but you weren’t done yet.

How ironic.

"You’re better than this. You don’t need a guy—especially Rafe—to make you feel whole. I learned something, and you’re going to learn it too. Life doesn’t revolve around some guy’s bullshit feelings. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be, put yourself first, always. I’ve been there. You’ve got to live with the fact that he chose someone else. It doesn’t matter if you did everything right—sometimes, it’s just not enough."

There was a part of you that really felt sorry for her, the part that was human, not just jaded from all the pain. But there was also a voice in your head saying, You don’t owe her understanding.

Loving Rafe Cameron could feel like the best and worst thing at the same time.

You watch her carefully, making sure she’s soaking it in. "You deserve better than a guy who doesn't know how to value you. And don’t get me wrong, I get it. We’ve all been there. You can’t fix him."

Sofia was still sniffling and wiping her eyes, catching her breath, maybe even trying to piece things together. You felt like you had done something... good? Maybe not good, but at least you’d been the bigger person, showing her a bit of mercy.

Before she could answer, the door creaked, and you both turned to see your cousin standing there. Instantly, all alarm bells went off in your head, your eyes narrowing instantly, hands searching for something to throw at his face.

"Topper," you spit out, the name coming out like acid, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

ooop- y'all not ready for chapter 12 heheheh

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[rafecameronssl4t]

Tennis || Tennis Player!Rafe Cameron x oc!reader

Summary: the beginning of my tennis player x oc!reader au maybe??

Warnings: none

Word count: 836

A/n: as a tennis girly, this will be fun to write ;) face claim for this oc is Paige Lorenze just bc she is my absolute favourite and her vlogs bring me sm comfort 🥹

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

mood board

It came as no surprise to anyone in the Outer Banks that Rafe Cameron had made it big in the tennis world. Even though everyone expected him to follow the usual kook path and play golf, Rafe decided to give tennis a shot, and it turned out he was a natural. From the moment he picked up a racket, it was clear he had a natural talent for the sport.

In no time, he racked up five Grand Slam titles and climbed to 4th in the world rankings. Growing up in an environment where he was groomed to play golf from the time he could walk, his switch to tennis had caught everyone off guard.

His rapid rise to the top shocked the tennis community, especially those who had dedicated their entire lives to mastering the sport, only to be surpassed by someone who had recently taken it up. It was almost laughable, but here you were, watching from the VIP box as Rafe stood just one point away from securing another Grand Slam at Wimbledon.

“Quite a talented young man he is,” your dad remarked, his eyes fixed on the big screen with a small smile playing on his lips. You turned to look at him, noticing the rare glint of admiration in his gaze. The entire stadium was patiently waiting for their break to be over.

Your dad, Steve Owen, was an ex-tennis player, a legend in his prime who had dominated the courts with unmatched skill. Compliments from him were few and far between, reserved only for those who truly earned his respect. Watching him now, you could tell he was genuinely impressed by Rafe’s talent.

“You feeling alright, Dad?” you teased, feigning concern as you leaned over and playfully pressed the back of your hand against his forehead. He chuckled softly, swatting your hand away with a grin as you giggled, settling back in your seat. “No, seriously,” he replied, his tone shifting to one of genuine admiration.

“It’s quite remarkable how quickly he rose up in the world rankings.” His voice softened as the two of you watched intently, the screen zooming in on Rafe’s concentrated face, capturing the intensity of the moment as he prepared to serve.Everyone held their breath as they watched the ball fly from one end to the other before the crowd erupted in cheers.

“Rafe Cameron has done it once again! Only been in this sport for two years, he now has won 5 grand slams! Unbelievable!” The commentator’s voice seemed to drown out as applause filled the VIP box. You were among the first to stand up, joining in the almost deafening applause. You watch with a smile as Rafe drops to the ground, hands covering his face as the stadium chanted his name.

Standing up, you were captivated, hands clasped under your chin, as Rafe was interviewed. His fingers tousled through his sweat-dampened hair, adjusting his cap with a boyish charm. “Congratulations on winning your fifth Grand Slam! That’s incredible for someone who’s only been in this sport for two years. I mean, that’s insane!” The interviewer’s excitement filled the air.

Rafe chuckled warmly, his smile genuine and infectious. “Thank you. I owe it all to the incredible support I’ve received. I wouldn’t be here without them,” he replied graciously, his eyes reflecting sincerity as he spoke of his supporters.

“Speaking of supportive people, did you happen to notice two special guests up there in the stands watching you?” The interviewer gestured across, and the camera zoomed in on you and your dad. Your cheeks warmed as the spotlight unexpectedly turned to you.

Rafe glanced up at the screen, his smile widening at the sight of your shy smile. “Uh, I did hear some whispers earlier that Steve and y/n might be in the crowd today,” he admitted, his gaze lingering warmly on you and your dad as he waved with genuine warmth. You waved back, feeling a surge of amusement ripple through the crowd.

Admiring Rafe wasn’t just an understatement; he was undeniably attractive. Your dad caught your eye, sharing a knowing glance as you couldn’t help but giggle. “What? You’ve practically given him your approval,” you teased, playfully winking at your dad. He chuckled heartily, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

With your dad’s esteemed reputation in tennis came certain privileges, like standing on court beside Rafe Cameron to award him his trophy.

“Congratulations, Rafe,” you said with a warm smile as he shook your hand, his eyes locking onto yours. “Thank you, y/n,” Rafe replied, his hand lingering on yours a moment longer than necessary, until you heard your dad clear his throat beside you. Rafe quickly released your hand to shake your dad’s, and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.

“Really well done, young man. Hope you know my team will be in contact with yours very soon,” your dad said with a smile that carried weight, momentarily stunning Rafe at the idea of some sort of partnership. “Thank you, sir. Means a lot coming from you,” Rafe nodded respectfully, acknowledging the significance of your dad’s words before joining him for the group photo.

As the camera clicked, capturing the celebratory moment, you felt your dad’s gentle tug, positioning you next to Rafe. You glanced at your dad, who smiled knowingly for the camera before Rafe’s hand lightly rested on your lower back. The touch sent a wave of warmth through you, causing your cheeks to flush as you focused on smiling for the photo.

y/n_owen

Liked by rafecameronofficial, wimbledon, paulabadosa, tennistv, cartier and 6,937,255 others

hi @wimbledon 🍓

view more comments

rafecameronofficial: oh hey.

↘️ y/n_owen: hii

↘️ user01: What’s this? 🤨

↘️ user02: THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HER IN THAT INTERVIEW

user03: Rafe Cameron x Y/n Owen would be THE it couple

↘️ user04: frl frl

user05: whatever is going on with Rafe and y/n, I ship it so bad