#ex husband!rafe x reader

[cute-sucker]

note: this is a continuation of ex-husband rafe headcannons !! please send requests about this relationship! would love to write more about this <3

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rafe cameron being your ex-husband made nothing easier and you hated every bit of it, specifically when you started to date again. it was like alarms went off in his head, as he started to show up more. you hadn't told anyone about dating anyone, but your therapist had recommended it.

she'd eased you into it, telling you maybe it was time to put yourself out there into the market. you had shook you head, and laughed at the suggestion, who would want you? a single mother with a obsessive ex-husband. but then suddenly you started to consider it. there was nothing wrong with it, so you accidentally brought it up to rafe.

you had been a bit tipsy, after downing a few fruity cocktail at rafe's work party. you still went to them even though the two of you weren't married. you tried not to notice the way rafe was still wearing the golden band around his neck, and the way his hand travelled to the low part of your back.

"hi," you whispered to him, leaning on him. he looked surprised, of course he was, anytime you saw him you were either scolding or glaring at him, and for you to be giving him your prettiest bright smile? that was something.

"hi sweets," he replied back softly adjusting your dress before dropping his gaze to your lips, and quickly back to your eyes. "what's on that pretty mind?"

you giggled, feeling happy as you looked up to him, "i think i'm going to start dating again. i think it will be good for me, what do you think rafe?" you asked him, before sipping your drink again.

you missed the way that rafe's eyes narrowed at your confession or the way his arms got tighter around your waist, hand going up to touch his nose. yet you felt a little uncomfortable, as you tried to wiggle away from his tight arms.

"yea? what gave you that idea?" he asked you quietly, yet his words felt razor sharp as he gritted his teeth, "who put that silly idea in your head?"

here you frowned, absentmindedly twirling your straw in your pink glass, "um," you started feeling your throat clogg up, "i don't know i thought-? why you think i'm not pretty enough? that i'm ugly now that i've had a baby."

"no, of course now sweets. but i just think it's a bad idea," he said biting his lip, tilting his head in that innocent way. it grated on you, and you rolled your eyes and you felt yourself sober up.

"fuck you cameron. fuck you," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes, before sniffling and you shoving your drink into his hands.

you tried to forget that. after all the both of you pretended it never happened, practically tip toing after one and other. he still came around once and while, trying to be sweet on you before you muttered something with an annoyed expression to get him off you.

and for a while you didn't see him, untill the day you were going on a date. you had a pretty dress on, dangly earings and a diamond necklace. all dolled up, you absentmindedly hummed under your breath feeling a bit nervous, only to hear the front door click open.

there he was. rafe cameron staring at you as you were making your breakfast. he quickly made away to put his arms around your waist, taking a deep breath of your perfume. "you smell good. all of that for me?" he teased, and you made an uncommitted hum.

"hey baby," he said to your baby girl with an easy smile, winking at your little girl who ran into his arms.

"aww you've grown, haven't ya?" rafe cooed to your little girl who jumped nodding furiously. she was holding some flowers in her hand, and had little pigtails. then she told him she had to show him how high she could jump, and he nodded raising his eyebrows in interest, but you didn't miss the way he scanned you and your party dress.

you wanted to give him a dirty look, but when he made your daughter happy like that there was nothing you could do but smile under your breath hoping that he wouldn't notice. you continued to prepare the pancakes, licking the chocolate batter and tossing in a few blueberries.

finally, he seemed to pluck up the courage to ask you. you felt your body tense up feeling anxious.

"where are you going?" he asked softly, eyes watching you move in the kitchen, "you look too pretty to just be dressed up." you closed your eyes, letting out a tired sigh. you could almost feel your throat clog up as you balled up your fists.

you had to tell him. couldn't lie, because rafe cameron would figure out anything he wanted. there was a reason he was a good business man it was because he continued to go for what he wanted leaving other things in the process.

"i have a date today," you said slowly, sprinkling powdered sugar on the warm pancakes, and before he could open his mouth you quickly started to speak again, "daisy, come in sweetie! breakfast is ready."

the look he gave you told you things were not done.

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"so who's the guy?" he asks you with a measured look, and you try to ignore the way he's gritting his jaw, and the way he's eying you in that predatory way.

you sighed, putting away your plates. daisy is gone playing with the new toy that daddy got for her. how convenient, you thought, it was almost as if what was going to happen. as if he had planned this all.

"just a random guy."

"lucky guy."

"alright, rafe, just say it!" you hissed out, spinning to look him the eye. "just say what you came for."

rafe closed his eyes, running a hand over his hair, "listen. if it was up to me you would live with me, we'd still be married, and there wouldn't be a random guy!"

"well good thing it's not up to you then huh?" you spat back, pointing an accusiatory finger to his chest, "you made a decision when we were married. you. not me. you were gone for nights and nights for work, it felt as if i was drowning and, you screwed this up."

"you think i don't know that?" rafe muttered back, throwing his hands in the air, "you think i don't wake up every day knowing i lost the best woman in my life."

you felt tears well up in your eyes, "no, you can't say that. you can't say something like that. not after everything."

"fine. have fun in with your date."

and then he's gone again leaving you with your shattered heart.

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚

rafe cameron being your ex-husband made nothing easier yet when you came back that night crying over the phone, telling him how he screwed up everything for you, he still picked up. he came over, nursing you back to health, his soothing warm hands on your back as you sobbed into his chest.

the two of you stay like that, a parallel of what could have been.

taglist: @bouearis , @kys4-20 , @rafeecameronsbitch , @mrsbarnesblog , @slytherins-heir

[syschsc]

Why did we broke up with ex husband!Rafe in the first place 😩

lollll, so as we know rafe can be a bit intense at times. Given his struggle with substances and his short temper it was overall a bad mix. At the beginning of the marriage life was sweet and you guys were expecting a beautiful baby girl.

As time went on, you gave birth and the baby was healthy. You were happy and assumed rafe was as well. But it was like a switch flipped and he became more distant as his insecurities about being a father began to settle in. The cocaine didn’t help either, which you weren’t aware he was still abusing.

Ward began to get involved in you guy’s relationship and that was a big no no that you made sure Rafe knew. He ultimately did nothing to stop his parents from wedging themselves into your marriage. This created some heated arguments and harsh words. On a continuous basis, but he didn’t think much of it since you both found yourselves right back in the same bed everything. In those subtle moments things seemed okay.

Through all of this, he never took off his ring. He never stopped loving you or the baby. But you’d had enough and this was were you drew the line.

“Rafe I’m done.” you said as you slipped the large diamond off your ring finger. “I can’t keep going back and forth with you. Everyday I come home, it’s the same excuses from you. ‘I’ll change…I’ll be better.’ I’m sick of it.”

Rafe stood across from you in sock. “Wh-what baby no don’t…please don’t.” He said reaching for you hand.

“Rafe I said I’m done! You need to leave. Get your stuff tomorrow while I’m at work.” You exclaimed, slowly walking away from him.

He couldn’t believe what just happened. He thought that he had it under control. But that was far from the truth apparently. When you got like this he knew better than to push, so he grabbed his keys, headed for tannyhill.

[floosies]

i feel like ex!husband rafe is the kind of man who once divorced never moved onto another woman or slept around for fun. mostly because my headcanon is that he fell hard for his wife, like the loyalty, trust, and respect never left their relationship even seperated.

in the same light i feel like his wife would never bad mouth him as a father or partner. if anything they ended things because of rafe's lifestyle, i see rafe as a man who once becoming a father tried his best to bury his demons but as his kid got older slowly started regressing to his old ways.

idk this is just some lore for a fic i'll hopefully write 🤷🏽‍♀️ lemme know how you like it so far 😚

[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.”

[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.

[fangirl-writes]

Pop the Question

John B. Routledge x Fem!Reader; Topper Thornton x Ex!Reader

Also featured: Kiesarah and Cleopope

Warning(s): Swearing, underage drinking, jealous Topper

Request: Hey, can I please have a request John B x Reader, where your on the docks with the pogues, just sitting by the water. You and John B are flirting, while Kiara, Pope and JJ are teasing you guys. Then Your ex Topper comes along being an asshole because he’s jealous.. on his boat. He asked you why your with John B and not with him.. because he hasn’t accepted the fact that you don’t like him anymore. Then John B blurts out your something more than just dating.. you said your husband and wife. Toppers reaction is too good not to laugh at! Thank you so much, love your writing because it’s amazing 🥰

Notes: This is waaaaay overdue. I'm so sorry. I had the hardest time writing it for some reason.

Anyway, I went back and forth between wanting this to take place before the seasons began or after and ended up going with after because it made more sense in my head.

It had been exactly one year since the pogues returned to the Outer Banks after getting the gold.

Alongside being hired by various high-status people to be essentially treasure hunters, they were getting used to living the good life.

John B. had a house built on the ruins of the old chateau, which JJ, Sarah, and you immediately moved into. Pope took his share into a college fund and Kiara donated to conservation efforts, with plenty leftover because come on it was actual gold. 

Historic actual gold.

Of course, Rafe Cameron was still a pain in the ass and Topper was more of dick every time they saw him.

But none of that mattered today.

Because today they were boating and drinking some cold ones in celebration of a year on.

A year since John B. and Sarah said goodbye to their fathers.

For the second time. For the last time.

John B. was laying on the dock, feet dangling above the water, waiting for Pope and JJ to get back from filling up the HMS with gas. Kiara and Sarah were cuddled up behind him, Kie whispering sweet nothings into Sarah’s ear.

It was a bittersweet day. Such that if the weather were to match his emotions, it would be raining.

But the sky was blue, the water was clear, it was a perfect day.

The sound of footsteps coming down the dock drew John B. from his thoughts and he sat up to see you coming towards him.

You were holding a cooler, swinging it alongside you as you walked, flip-flops smacking all the while.

The sight brought him back to the beach, where you were walking towards him all dressed in white, barefoot on the sand.

A bright smile came across your lips when you met his eyes and he couldn’t help but smile back.

And suddenly his gray skies became sunny.

It had been a long road for the two of you, but your relationship was finally on a steady path.

After all the drama with his dad, the gold, his brief fling with Sarah, and all that time stuck on a deserted island, sometimes he couldn't believe he still had you.

“Hey, beautiful,” John B. greeted, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing your temple.

“Hey,” you replied, a small blush dusting your cheeks. “Hey guys.”

“Hey,” the girls replied, Sarah still lying in Kiara’s lap.

"Here, let me get that for you," John B. said, taking the cooler from your grip.

"Thanks, handsome."

"No problem, babe."

"Uh-oh, are JB and Y/N smothering us with their flirting again?" JJ said as Pope drove the HMS up to the dock.

"No, thankfully, you interrupted before they could get started," Kiara said, standing up with Sarah.

"Come on, you act like you weren't just showering Sarah with compliments," John B. retorted.

"At least I have the decency to keep it between us."

"You're all just jealous of how perfect our relationship is."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself," Kiara said, allowing JJ to help her step into the boat before doing the same with Sarah.

"You two really are insufferable sometimes," Pope piped up.

"Oh, you really wanna start this, Pope? Cause I can bring up exactly what I saw you and Cleo doing yesterday," John B. replied.

Pope blushed and JJ wolf-whistled.

"Okay, let's not bring Pope's exploits into this," You said, patting him on the shoulder. "We've got a celebration to be having."

"Now there's some sense," JJ said, grabbing for the cooler in John B.'s hand. "Let's get this party started."

But, as usual, something had to spoil the fun before it even began.

The noise of Topper's boat engine caught everyone's attention as he stalked over, the usual pissed-off look resting on his face as he glowered at you all.

You could feel John B. tense next to you and you grabbed his hand.

No, you wouldn’t let this lead to a fight. Not again, not today.

“Hi, Topper,” You said, painting on a smile.

“I see you big fish pogues still like to hang out around the bottom of the pond,” he said. “Good to see nothing’s changed.”

“Topper, go home,” Sarah spoke up, completely over his holier-than-thou attitude.

“Sorry, Sarah, but I’m actually not here for you. I want to talk to Y/N.”

You frowned.

“You ready to tell me why you’re with Routledge here and not me? Because if it’s the money you’re after, I’ll say I have plenty of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You ready to accept that I’m over you and that your money is actually your parents’?”

You and Topper dated for a while after John B. and Sarah went missing. At the time, you both needed a shoulder to cry on and, unfortunately, found each other.

JJ, Pope, and Kiara still haven’t forgiven you for abandoning them for Topper during that time. But it didn’t stop them from telling you when your friends turned up alive, and you'd all moved passed it by now.

Except, it seemed, for Topper. “You didn’t answer me.”

“I shouldn’t have to," You snapped. "Topper, you and I have been over for so long. Please let this go.”

“No, Y/N, I won’t let this go because you-”

“Topper, man, seriously, we’re just trying to have a nice day. Can we not do this?” John B. asked, trying with every bone in his body to stay calm.

"I wasn't talking to you, Routledge, butt out."

"Anything that involves Y/N involves me too."

"Oh yeah? You're that kind of boyfriend? Surprised she lets you control her that much."

"Fuck off, Topper, he doesn't control me!" You shouted.

"You know, just because you're his girlfriend doesn't mean you have to follow his orders."

You were fuming. Your mouth opened to say something else, but John B. beat you to it.

“She’s not actually my girlfriend,” he said, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

Topper seemed caught off guard by this response. “Wh-what? She’s not?”

You smiled, reaching into your bag.

“No, didn’t you hear?”

The group around you began to snicker and grin.

Topper’s face flushed, embarrassed and no doubt feeling like he was missing something.

“Yeah, I’m not his girlfriend,” you said before holding up your left hand where a glittering ring now sat on your finger. “I’m his wife.”

You wished you'd have been thinking enough to get a picture of his reaction.

He looked like a fish the way his mouth opened and closed with nothing coming out of it.

John B. put an arm around your shoulders, his own wedding ring now on and sparkling in the sun. "Husband and wife, that's us. Had a nice little wedding on the beach and everything."

If looks could kill, your husband would be dead where he stood.

"Whatever. I'm done with all of you pogues. Have a nice life."

Topper put his boat in gear and started driving away while the rest of you waved sarcastically.

"Au Revoir!"

"Hasta Lavista!"

"Bon Voy-agee!"

"Hey!" Cleo came running down the dock. "Sorry 'm late! Got caught up at da market...did I miss somethin'?"

The group of you laughed.

"Nah," you said. "Nothing important."

"If you say so," Cleo replied with a shrug, taking Pope's hand as she jumped into the boat.

You nuzzled further into John B., playing with his wedding band. "That felt good."

"Good? That was fantastic? Did you see his face?" JJ said. "I want it framed."

The others animatedly dove into the story of what just happened to catch Cleo up while John B. settled for pressing light kisses to your neck.

"Feeling a little possessive there, Mr. Routledge?" You asked with a grin.

He hummed. "What do I need to be possessive for, Mrs. Routledge? I don't think I need to worry about him anymore."

[redhead1180]

So many may or may not know, I very recently had to put my 6 yr old mutt, my babygirl, to sleep. She got very sick suddenly from an autoimmune disease and just couldn't pull through. I am they type to either bury in work or bury in depression. To try and keep myself diving into a depressive state I thought I would try and finish one of the many wips I have started. You guys tell me which one to finish. Some are series so it would just be part 1 of the series.

CEO!Rafe x new assistant!Reader (one shot)- Rafe has a new assistant that he is having trouble concentrating on work while she is around. Soft Dom!Rafe and sub!reader.

Biker!Rafe x bff!reader x biker!JJ (one shot) - Rafe and JJ like to race bikes on the weekend, but on the side run drugs for local drug cartel!Singh. JJ's bff!reader, who JJ has a crush on, is his handle. Rafe has a crush on her too, but JJ and Rafe are rivals. This race turns deadly, as drug cartel!Singh lost a load of drugs and believe either Rafe or JJ stole it. He takes bff!reader to make them come clean. Can Rafe and JJ work together to save her and will they confess their feelings?

Sunshine Part 2 (end of series) - Can reader get out of the black ail that Rafe has her in? Will she forgive her friends for being oblivious to her trauma that night?

JJ x mom!reader (series) - reader recently moved to OBX with her 4 year old daughter. She stops by the surf shop, on her daughters insistence, to start surf lessons. JJ happily volunteers his services. However, mom!reader ran from her abusive ex-husband and her past is about to catch up with her. Can JJ and the pogues save her and her daughter from what lurks in the shadows?

New dystopian au created with @haven247 based on an ask I received.

Rafe x JJ (series) - After global warming has wrecked most of the resources on earth, the kooks and pogues were divided more than ever. Everything was planned and lives were decided without consent. Kooks, at age 20, annually had a "Choosing Ceremony" to choose the "Plaything" of their 'choosing'. "Playthings", pogues, were then stolen from their homes and married to the kook. Rafe Cameron, Kook Prince, turned 20 and chose none other than JJ Maybank. However, JJ was not going to go quietly and not without a fight. Why did Rafe choose JJ? Will JJ give in and become a proper "Plaything"? Can JJ make Rafe see the wrongs the Kooks instill on the pogues?

[jeyramarie]

Awkward silence- Pogues x Reader

summary: the pogues gets dragged into an awkward silence involving exes and current bf.

wc: 1,289

warnings: cursing(i think), fluff, injuries

a/n: i was rewatching the show (cause why not?) and i had this idea. i hope it’s not THAT shitty 😂 for anyone wondering this takes place in season 2, episode 6 “My Druthers”.

i have a few more JJ/pogues/kie ideas so let’s see if my creative brain cells function correctly 😂 anyway, happy reading 🦋

(gif credit: @thecarreras )

The pogues were gathered at the dock in front of the Chateau. Y/n sat at the front of the boat, next to Kie, having their usual girl talk as John B spoke about his worry for Sarah. The girls got dragged into the conversation as Topper’s boat approached them.

“It’s not okay, Kie. We gotta find Sarah.” John B as he sat down.

“No, literally, it’s okay. She’s right there.” The pogue replied pointing her finger towards the marsh which caused everyone to turn. Sarah sat in Topper’s boat, looking at the pogues but quickly stood up when she saw her boyfriend husband.

The couple had a sweet reunion as everyone watched and listened to Topper as he explained what happened the night before. Everything involving Rafe and him almost killing her. It made Y/n feel uneasy since she had been attacked by a drugged Rafe before.

“Uh, well I guess I owe you one, Topper. Don’t I?” John B squinting his eyes due to the sun that was starting to set.

“It’s all good. I mean somebody had to rescue your girlfriend, right?” Topper replied with a small laugh.

“Uh, that’s funny because she’s not actually my girlfriend, right?” The pogue said looking at the kook who stared back and forth between her actual boyfriend and her ex. JJ felt the tension which caused him to purse his lips and put his sunglasses on.

“Uh… well, what is she then?” the kook chuckled.

“Tell him.” John B encouraged confidently as everyone stared.

“I’m- I’m with him.” Sarah replied. The pogue’s face fell in embarrassment as Topper laughed.

“Gotcha. You’re with him. Okay, yeah. I just, like, needed a little clarity there.”

Kie quickly put her head down as Y/n stared in shock putting her head down as well. She turned her head to look at the pogue trying not to chuckle.

‘What the fuck?’ Y/n mouthed.

‘I don’t fucking know.’ Kie replied, shaking her head.

“You guys clear on that?” Topper asked the boys, causing them to mumble something.

“I think it’s clear you gotta go now.” JJ replied, scratching his eyebrow.

Topper hugged Sarah and said his goodbyes leaving them all in an awkward silence. John B looked at his “wife” and climbed off the boat, stomping angrily down the dock. JJ stood up and held his hand out to Y/n who took it as she stood up. They walked hand in hand towards the Chateau with an awkward Pope and Kie trailing behind them.

Y/n and JJ were cuddling on the couch, drinking beers as Sarah and John B swung softly on the hammock while Kie and Pope stayed at the little shack, looking at the key. There was soft reggae music inside the house as they sat in a comfortable silence.

“Would you tell people if we got married?” Y/n asked, beginning to feel curious.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” He replied and drank from his beer can. Y/n sat up straight and stared at him in disappointment, almost offended.

“J, wh-“

“You didn’t let me finish. I’d make a big ass billboard with our faces on it and it would say ‘Mr. and Mrs. Maybank’ real big. Right in the middle.” JJ said, moving his hands to exaggerate his idea. Y/n chuckled and pecked his cheek as he rubbed his thumb softly on her cheek.

“I like that idea.” the y/h/c whispered.

They got bored of the silence and walked out to see an angry John B walking into the Chateau as Sarah walked somewhere else. The couple stared at each other and muttered an ‘okay’ before walking towards Kie and Pope.

“They seem to be having a serious conversation, we should uh… go sit over here. Wait for them to finish.” Y/n said as she overheard something Kie said. She pulled JJ’s hand and moved towards two beach chairs that were close to the Cat’s ass(the hot tub).

“Um, after, you know, we did it.” Kie said loud enough for Y/n and JJ to hear. The y/h/c lifted her head with wide eyes and turned to her clearly distracted boyfriend.

“Pope and Kie hooked up?”

“Oh yeah, he totally tapped that.” JJ whispered as he fixed his baseball cap. They stayed silent for a few more minutes until the blonde’s phone started vibrating.

“Guffy? Hey, what’s up?” He answered with a confused expression as he stood up from the beach chair. Y/n followed him with her eyes in question since Guffy has never called, ever.

“Wait, what? Is he okay though? Bleeding? I- We’ll be right there.” JJ said in a hurry and hung up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone attacked Heyward.” The blonde replied and ran towards Pope with the y/h/c trailing behind.

“Pope!” Y/n shouted.

“Pope! Hey! Just got a call from Guffy. Something happened to your pops.” JJ said, trying to catch his breath.

“What?” Pope questioned and ran behind the blonde as Y/n waited for Kie.

“Sarah! John B! Come on!” the pogue shouted as they ran towards the Twinkie. Pope ranted the whole way there, feeling anxious and nervous. Who would want to purposely hurt his dad? It made no sense. When they arrived they all piled out of the car very fast and saw an injured Heyward sitting on a chair as he leaned against a table. Y/n, being a nursing/med student, she quickly told JJ to get her a first aid kit as she checked up on the injured man.

“Mr. Heyward? Hi, I’m gonna take care of you today, okay?” Y/n asked and he nodded yes. She then moved to ask the basic questions as JJ handed her the kit.

“This is gonna sting a bit.” She whispered as she damped a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol. Y/n pressed it against his head as he winced in pain. JJ handed her the bandaid, already opened so it would be easier and faster. She placed the bandaid over the injury and quickly turned to discard used materials.

“Thank you.” Heyward mumbled.

“It’s alright. You’ll be fine. You can take some painkillers if you have a headache.” Y/n replied with a smile.

“Thanks, Y/n.” Pope said, touching her shoulder as she walked past him.

“It’s okay, Pope. It’s what friends are for.” and with that she walked inside the shop to put the kit where it belonged. JJ trailed behind her and immediately trapped her between him and the counter.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanna kiss my girl for being so fucking amazing.” JJ whispered with a smile as he leaned in towards the y/h/c, kissing her lips softly. Her hands went to his hair as she deepened the kiss causing him to grab her waist tightly.

Their kiss was cut short when Kiara walked in. She cleared her throat causing the couple to part from each other and turn towards the door.

“Um, we’re gonna go back to the Chateau. Tomorrow we’re gonna visit Pope’s grandma at the nursing home.” She said pointing behind her. Y/n nodded and pushed JJ aside, walking around the counter towards her friend.

They all piled the Twinkie and rode back to the Cut. JJ sat next to Y/n, holding her hand as her head rested on his shoulder. It was a bit strange to him, but the only thought on his mind was the potential that he and Y/n had. Potential to have a future together. Of course, JJ wasn’t going to admit it any time soon but he was certain that he wanted to marry her.

taglist: @obxmxybxnk @o-b-x @a-wari @teenwaywardasgardian @a-golden-sunflower-vol-6 @x-lulu @jewel25 @the-unloved-person @sexualparkour @lust-for-pan @obx-direction-sos @its-storytime @ilovefandoms102 @halsmultibitch @amorhollands @ilovejjmaybank @slutforjjmaybank @beth-winchester21 @evilcr0ne

[cute-sucker]

EX HUSBAND RAFE HEADCANONS !!

note: here is an extension of some of this: ex-husband rafe when you start dating again..

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ex-husband!rafe will continuously come to your house telling you it's only to check up on your baby girl

ex-husband!rafe will catch himself calling you sweetheart and honey, and them stop himself before it gets out of hand, iching his head and tilting his head in that endearing way

ex-husband!rafe is in tune with your cycle, and you swear the man knows the exact day to send you chocolate and sweet things to handle your sweet tooth

ex-husband!rafe will sleep on the couch with a sheepish smile, but then will soon later join you in your bed, cradling you in the way that made your breath catch whispering "what's the master bed for then, huh?"

ex-husband!rafe will know everything about your dating life/borderline which may seen creepy but somehow you know it's for your health and somehow you understand it all

ex-husband!rafe will let the goddamn pretentious expensive preschool know that his daughter is worth the world and the last thing they want to do is piss the cameron's off

ex-husband!rafe would find himself desperately cracking an inside in an attempt to reminisce about times before your split

ex-husband!rafe will still introduce you as his wife in business outings, a sharp smile on his face while his hand wanders possessively low at the small part of your back, and sometimes you liked how he took stake of what was his

ex-husband!rafe would always attend school events for their daughter, cheering their daughter at the soccer match, and making decisions over coffee

ex-husband!rafe would have you a new bouquet every single time he comes to your house- almost as if to make up for every single one he didn't give you when the two of you were together

ex-husband!rafe still glances at you in that way where dull sparks travel up into your heart, and you feel the testament of time and the feeling that you would never forget the imprint he has on your mind

ex-husband!rafe always compliments you, and sometimes he kisses your forehead, and when you're crying too hard he bundles you in his arms and tells you everything

ex-husband!rafe watches cheesy romance movies with you, both of your legs entwined, and he watches you during those rom coms all teary eyed and telling him it was the best time for romance

ex-husband!rafe lets you know everything that happens in his life, if it's for a little chat or a ride in his car- and his car? he still drives you everywhere. who knows the types of sickos there are in the world? that's what he says to say as he rants furiously

ex-husband!rafe is still the first emergency contact in your phone, and when you get in trouble - he's running to you, arms open to cradle you in his warmth. he always knows how to handle the situation

ex-husband!rafe starts baking for you, and sometimes he leaves a few cupcakes or muffins every single he comes. at this point you feel the sudden urge to grab his face and kiss him every single time he cheekily leaves more loafs of bread for you

ex-husband!rafe loves your daughter and you to the moon and back, and he calls the two of you, "his girls," and you swear sometimes you feel your heart break when you see the wary look on his face

ex-husband!rafe always avoids the question regarding why you split up, because he sees the way hot tears well up in your eyes, and the way your hands shake underneath the table and the last time a bastard asked that question--rafe almost punched him in the face

ex-husband!rafe curses himself every single day for signing those papers and letting the best goddamn thing he ever had go.

[pm-my-hubbies]

Best Years | R.C.

Requested by @imawreckandiknowit

Pairing: Rafe x Female!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: a bit of angst with fluff

Song Prompt List

You've got a million reasons to hesitate

But darling, the future is better than yesterday

I wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you

Gave you a million reasons to walk away

Of all the moments I envisioned for myself, Rafe Cameron climbing through my bedroom window with sweat slicking that forehead of his was an image I never conjured. He radiated confidence whenever and wherever, never seeking out help because he believed it was for the weak. However, he stood before me after pleading for my hand in an idea I’ve constantly tried to push to the back of my mind.

I’m in love with him. I could take the leap forward but everything we’ve been through prevents me from doing so. That one brief period between us, the one time we did give intimate moments a shot had been ripped away from me. He was quick to move on as I sobbed in my shower for months until the water ran cold of slithering down my back. Yet... I remained close to him.

I stayed by his side through all three relationships, patting him on the back to ease his pain. In reality, I was breaking inside because his tears for other girls confirmed his love died for me. Now, he stood before me claiming the opposite.

“You could’ve walked away.” His voice broke the tension before us after his first set of words. “But you didn’t. Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know R—”

“Don’t give me that Y/N.”

“Then don’t ask stupid questions. You know why I didn’t walk away Rafe and I’m not gonna say it.”

He only stared, confirming what I knew to be true. “You’re right. I can’t play dumb.” He dragged himself over to my bed and placed himself on the disheveled sheets with his head hung low. “The answer finally came to me today. The whole time, I built up this image that you had moved on and you were done with me. It was my fault we ended things back then. So, I chased after every girl that reminded me of you and when we ended things... it hurt.” He picked his head up, gazing into my eyes with watery ones. “They walked away with your traits and I felt like that was all I had left of you.”

I couldn’t watch him eat himself away anymore with the memories he had to relive. My legs climbed his sitting frame, straddling both sides of his body. “Rafe, why did you do it?”

“I felt like I wasn’t ready.” He answered, his hands sliding up my waist. “Yes, I have all of the money in the world to give you. But I felt like I wasn’t on your level yet. You’re smart, sweet, unique. You’re everything a guy could want and I wasn’t that yet.”

His thumb moved up to swipe my cheeks. I watched him remove it from where they were to see a clear liquid caught under the moonlight peeking through my window. God, I can’t be seriously crying.

“That’s not your decision to make, Rafe. That’s my own. I decide if we’re the right match and... I honestly thought we were perfect for each other. We balanced one another out. I missed that.”

“I know, I do too. And I’m sorry for just everything I’ve put you through.”

“I’m still here right?” I acknowledged with a gentle smile.

“You are. And I don’t wanna leave you again. I wanna be right here. With you.”

But I'll build a house out of the mess and all of the broken pieces

I’ll make up for all of your tears

Pictures I’d long forgotten in the comfort of my attic polka-dotted the walls in the tiny living room. Two currant red sofas protected a wooden coffee table standing in the middle with issues of my favorite magazines spread out on the surface. The stand beneath the flat screen consisted of Rafe’s and my Blu-Ray favorites, as well as the dust-free PS4 and brand new PS5.

“So, what do you think?” Rafe questioned from behind. “Do you like it?”

Once upon a time, this apartment reeked of Rafe Cameron. He was a man that only spoke for himself and never me. But now, since we’d been taking things slow the past couple of months, he flipped the switch to assure me this place was now ours.

I belong here, is what he wanted to inform me. He’s not the best with words to tell me I have a place in his life. So, his actions spoke for himself.

I swiveled on the balls of my feet to grin at him with love coating my eyes. “I love it.

I'll give you the best years

I'll give you the best years

Past love burned out like a cigarette

I promise, darling, you won't regret

The best years

Beth from Chem was back in town. According to the locals, it was rumored she’d regretted ending things with Rafe and was back to whisk him into her arms. They’d even went as far as informing her that he was now with me (and more than likely for good) but her stance didn’t budge.

Currently, we were throwing daggers at one another. She’d been trying all night to gain the attention of my boyfriend through initiating the conversation or offering to be his team mate for beer pong. Truthfully, it was embarrassing to watch as Rafe shot her down every time and the eyes on the onlookers shifted to one another in amusement. We all knew her motives.

“Stop looking like that, you’re gonna form wrinkles.” the man of the hour chastised me with a shake of his arm as it was looped on my shoulders.

“I can’t help it when your ex is the one who started it.” I answered, gritting my teeth.

“Who?”

“You know who.” I slapped his arm.

Seeing him chuckle phased me. The old Rafe would’ve hopped at the opportunity of some girl ogling him, especially if the girl happened to be a previous fling. When we were friends, he’d slip away to take care of business with the young woman and I’d watch from afar with longing eyes, wishing I were the one he chased for the evening. Even when we were briefly together, I could feel his hesitance in wanting to stick around but the dumb me pushed it aside for selfish and desperate reasons. This new guy that clung to me like a koala hugging a tree pulled me closer to plant a kiss on the crown of my head.

“I know baby. But I’m not going anywhere. And she can try all she wants but it’s not happening. Not now, tomorrow, or ever.

“Just you and me?”

“You and me.”

I wanna hold your hair when you drink too much

Carry you home when you cannot stand up

You did all these things for me

When I was half a man for you

I wanna hold your hand while we're growing up

As I hacked the contents of the evening into the toilet, Rafe’s hands grabbed my hair to pull it into a makeshift ponytail. His free hand rubbed soothing circles into my hunched back. Embarrassment ran through my body at the sight of him having to see me like this.

Once I was sure I was finished, he aided me in standing to my feet to cleanse my mouth of the harsh taste. His hold on me remained even when I placed my orange toothbrush inside my mouth.

I spit some of the toothpaste into the sink. “That was fucking embarrassing.”

“Really Y/N?”

“What? I’m just saying. I don’t want you to see me like that. Ever again. I’m not drinking that much anymore.”

He didn’t say anything. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes observed me from the mirror as I finished my business of cleaning my mouth. Before I could exit the bathroom, his arm jutted out to halt my movements.

“Look at me.” He commanded in a soft but firm tone. I did as instructed. “You’re gonna be sick and I’m gonna do the same thing. You’re gonna probably go back on your word and drink that much again and guess what? I’m still gonna be there.”

“Rafe—”

“No Y/N. Look: you took care of me when I wasn’t shit back then. I barely looked after you as a friend and as a boyfriend. I’m here now and I’m repaying you for all you did for me. I’m doing what I should’ve done back then. Do you hear me?

I nodded. “I hear you.”

“Good. Because I’m here for the long run baby. I’m gonna do all the shit like holding your hair when you throw up for as long as I live.”

I'll give you the best years

I'll give you the best years

Past love burned out like a cigarette

I promise, darling, you won't regret

The best years

I'll give you the best years

The sun caught the diamond ring on my finger at the right angle, along with the wedding band underneath it. With my other hand, I snapped a shot of the sight with my phone.

“Never thought I’d see you doing that.” Rafe snickered from beside me.

“Can you blame me?”

“Nope.” He answered, popping the ‘p’. “Honestly, it makes me feel like I’m doing something right. I feel like for you to take a picture of something like your hand, it means a lot.”

After sharing the picture to my Instagram, I faced my husband in the lawn chair next to me. In his arms, he held our sleeping bundle of joy who hadn’t released his fathers fingers from the moment he picked him up for nap time.

“Everything you’ve done and continue to do for me means a lot, Rafe.” I replied. “If you haven’t figured out by now, my constant tears express how much I love you. Whether it be cooking a special dinner for me or taking Y/S/N out of my arms after a rough day, I’m crying because it means a lot that you’re looking out for me.”

He leaned over, tightening his hold on our son to lightly kiss me on the lips. “What can I say? I promised you the best years and you’re getting it. Until death do us part.”

OBX supporters (taglist): @jjmayybank @princezukohere @teenwaywardasgardian @jarritoswhore @ethereal-honeygold @pink-meringues @thecurlsofgod

[matthewtkachuk]

feel something pt 1 - jj

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight), Topper x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I accidentally deleted this, ugh sorry if you see this again!! I started off wanting to write a supremely angsty one shot, turned into a supremely angsty multi-chapter fic. This is a slow burn, babyy. Here’s the set up, let me know what you think! :)

series masterlist

You stand teetering on the edge of the balcony railing, barefoot and facing the waves as they crash onto the beach. You’re not thinking about jumping. At least you’re pretty sure you won’t actually jump. Really you’re just looking for even a flicker of an emotion to stir up in your chest. Lately you haven’t felt anything more than mild annoyance at your parent’s constant bickering and pestering. You know you’re too young, but all you feel anymore is numb. You lift your left leg, balancing precariously on the right for a minute before lowering it and returning to the balcony and slipping your heels back on.

You don’t want to die, you just don’t want to live like this. Kook princess, paraded and practically pimped around by your parents, looking for you to find an advantageous marriage, have 2.5 kids and further accumulate your hoarded wealth. “Why don’t you date the Cameron boy? He’s quite good looking and your father would love it if you married his business partner’s son” and “The Thornton boy would be a good match, the family mansion is the largest” and “Jacob Kane’s father is a name partner at a successful law firm on the mainland”. Your mother’s incessant nagging about finding the perfect husband only further cements your lack of value as a human being, your usefulness tapped out at your ability to be someone’s wife.

You don’t understand the wealth accumulation thing, your trust fund probably equals the national budget of a small country already, and there’s no way anyone could blow through the entire family fortune in a single generation. At this point, it just feels like generating wealth for the sake of generating it. What good is money if it just sits in a bank account or investment portfolio, earning passive income and not being used for anything.

You recognize you’re very privileged, you’ve never once had to worry about where your next meal would come from, you have a closet full of designer handbags and red bottom shoes the value of which could feed several families on the Cut. But what’s the cost? You feel suffocated by the pressure bestowed upon you by your parents. You’re the eldest sibling, primary heiress to the Y/L/N family fortune and expected future successor of the family business. Truthfully, you couldn’t give less of a fuck about retail development or whatever it is that keeps your father so busy that he missed every single one of your piano and ballet recitals growing up. You like the idea of studying Shakespeare’s sonnets and soliloquies over learning about mergers and acquisitions and tax avoidance laws at college, but you know your father would sooner cut you off than let you pursue your own passions.

Sometimes you let yourself fantasize about leaving it all behind, running off to some college like Columbia, moving to New York and living in the city that never sleeps. With your 4.0 GPA and stellar extracurricular activities, you could probably get a pretty good scholarship. Or maybe Paris, where you would sit in a cute little café flirting with French boys and writing poetry by the Seine River. But it would be hard, and you’re too much of a coward to see if you could make it on your own without daddy’s money. Not to mention the little voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your mothers telling you that you’ll never amount to anything without their help.

Later, you’re wandering the party, both hands curled tightly around the cup you hold to your lips, eyes staring out at the crowd over the rim. Unfortunately, you catch Rafe Cameron’s eye as he’s sat around the coffee table with a freshly cut white line ready on the surface. He’s surrounded by the idiots he calls friends and more than one pretty little rich girl making eyes at him. The left corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk as he realizes you’ve sized up the company around him.

“Hey Y/L/N, want a line? First one’s on me, babe.” He calls out at you, but you just roll your eyes and keep moving forward. As desperate as you are to feel something, you’re not sure you can cross that line just yet. Partaking in the occasional joint or bong rip is one thing, but hard drugs is another. You don’t think trading in the empty feeling in your chest for an addiction is worth it. Seeing the blown out pupils of some of your peers, and the way they not-so-discreetly sniff and wipe at their noses you realize you’re likely alone in that assessment. “Your loss!” he calls out at your retreating form, and you don’t even bother to look over your shoulder. You know he’s not really interested in you beyond making you a customer and maybe a quick fuck.

You snort to yourself, wondering what your mother would think about the boy she wanted you to pursue offering you a line of coke at a party. Knowing her, she would focus on the fact that you had gained his attention and ignore the illicit substance.

Making your way through the cluster of bodies is harder than you had initially thought, everyone was on everyone. Every kook party ends up this way, a certain subset of the group coked out and the rest so drunk they can’t function, and you begin to wonder why you even bothered coming.

You’re not totally sure what you’re looking for, your best friend and Rafe’s younger sister Sarah doesn’t really associate with this crowd anymore ever since she started spending all her time with the less fortunate side of the island. Rafe had called it ‘slumming with those dirty fucking pogues’ the last time Sarah had partied with you. Maybe it isn’t right to call her your best friend anymore because not only does she not associate with this crowd, she doesn’t really associate with you either.

You know she’s hanging with Kie again, there are a lot of watchful eyes on the island and even more flapping lips. It’s kind of ironic, Sarah was the one who convinced you to drop Kie, and you had let her. Now the two of them were spending all their time together on some dilapidated boat named after the inhabitants of the Cut and you were alone at some lame party with a heavy weight on your chest and under your eyes.

Sighing deeply, you down the rest of the contents of your cup and grab a refill before turning your attention back to the crowd of people in the middle of the living room. As your brain starts to fog further with the familiar feeling four vodka crans give you, you let Topper put his hands on your hips and pull your bodies close together, your back to his front. A voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’re supposed to feel guilt over Sarah’s ex’s hands all over your body, but you don’t feel anything and Sarah clearly doesn’t give a fuck about you either.

The next morning you wake up with Topper’s hands around your bare waist. There’s a pain radiating against your skull and you have cotton mouth, but you quietly gather your clothes and sneak out of the room before the sleeping blonde can wake up and give you that regretful look he gets in his eyes every time you hook up. You know he still loves Sarah, in his own fucked up way and though you don’t regret where you woke up, you know you’ll just be annoyed if you have to deal with his issues this early in the morning with this bad of a hangover.

You’ve almost successfully left the large mansion, quietly walking through the living room to the front door when a voice remarks dryly, “Really, y/n? I thought you were better than my sister’s leftovers.”

Inhaling through your nose and out your mouth sharply, you spin on your heel to face Rafe with a blank expression on your face. He sits at the kitchen island, bare-chested with his hat on backwards, casually eating a bowl of cereal. The thought of why exactly Rafe is sitting half naked in Topper’s kitchen, eating Topper’s cereal briefly flashes through your mind but you decide you don’t care. “What do you care Rafe?” you ask, only half interested in his response. There’s a moment of silence, and you pick at your fingernails rather than meet his gaze.

“I’m just saying, I thought you were better than that,” he shrugs, bringing another spoonful to his mouth.

You roll your eyes, already tired of the conversation, “And who, pray tell, is better for me?”

“Me of course,” he smirks at you, and you huff out an annoyed laugh and raise an eyebrow silently asking him to explain. “Come on princess, I know your parents want you to marry up. ‘m your best option on this island”.

Mildly annoyed, you roll your eyes and turn back towards the front door, eager to leave this conversation behind. “C’mon baby, we both know how this thing ends, with you on my arm as the perfect trophy wife.”

There was a time those words might have brought butterflies in your stomach. Growing up best friends with Sarah meant you also grew up with Rafe, and you used to have the biggest crush on him. Forbidden by Sarah after a late night game of truth or dare, you didn’t use to mind when your mother would spout off about Rafe being the perfect boy for you. He used to look out for you like he did for Sarah. But that was a long time ago, and he no longer cared about either of you anymore and you had to admit you couldn’t remember why you had ever thought him anything but repulsive. That was before the drugs and the untethered rage that always rests just under the surface of his skin, ready to be unleashed at the smallest slight. You might have married the little boy with the gap toothed smile who once punched Jacob Kane when you were in the second grade and he wouldn’t stop bothering you, but this Rafe wasn’t good for anything beyond a quick meeting in the dark.

If you had been able to feel anything, you might have snapped back at him, but you had no energy and honestly all you wanted was to shower in your own shower and collapse in your own bed, so you ignored his comment and slipped out the door.

It was a quick walk back to your house, and you snuck in quietly through the front door hoping no one was home and your dreams of slumbering until the early afternoon could be realized. Unfortunately, your mother sat on the cream colored chaise in the sitting room, clearly anticipating your arrival. Her eyes quickly scanned your appearance, your manolos held by the straps in your right hand, your sex hair and décolletage you were sure was covered in bites and bruises caused by overeager lips, before sighing.

“Y/n, darling, you have to stop this silly behaviour and settle down. Boys aren’t going to want to lock you down if they’ve already had you.” She criticizes, effectively slut-shaming you. You roll your eyes at that, briefly wondering if the old wives tale was true and you’d end up with your eyes stuck like that. You decide you don’t mind, it would save you some time as your base reaction to most interactions is to roll them.

“I had a rough night mom, I’d like to go back to bed,” you tell her as you try to slip past her. A cold hand circles your wrist, stiletto tipped manicure digging slightly into the skin stopping you from moving any further.

“I’m serious, y/n, you’re better than this.” She throws the same words Rafe had at you. Exasperated and exhausted you rip your wrist from her grasp and head to the stairs. “We’re not done talking about this!” she shouts but you ignore her and continue towards your nice shower and bed.

Rolling over to an empty bed several hours later, you grumble as you try to identify the source of your wakeup call. Cursing as you smack your arm against your side table, you finally manage to grab your ringing cell phone. Seeing RC flash as the contact calling, you groan loudly, before hitting the decline button and rolling back over. A minute later your phone chimes again, indicating a voice mail.

You figure there’s no point in drawing out the inevitable, so you unlock the phone and listen the voicemail Rafe left. He’s invited you to hang out with him and his friends on his dad’s yacht. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’ve sent him a text to say you’d be there in an hour. Despite there being no love lost between you and Rafe, you really don’t have any better options and maybe if you tell your mom who you’re hanging out with she’ll get off your back and not subject you to The Lecture. You and Sarah used to laugh and joke about The Lecture, about how being a Y/L/N means being perfect and obtaining a perfect husband. The two of you would mock your mother, exaggerating her southern drawl that slipped out as she lectured you on the importance of propriety and ‘leaving something to the imagination’.

As you slip on a navy sundress with a deep neckline, you laugh, thinking to yourself that there’s not much left to leave to the imagination. You take the time to curl the ends of your hair to create a bouncy wave and apply a few coats of waterproof mascara and lip gloss. The humid heat of the OBX keeps your makeup routine light in the summer.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Shit. Your dad’s home, he knows you stayed out all night, and he’s pissed. You don’t think your mom told him the full story, because he’s not frothing at the mouth mad, just his typical disappointed mad.

“Rafe invited a couple of friends to hang out on his dad’s yacht, daddy,” you reply back, not meeting his eyes.

You can tell your dad disapproves, because the lines between his eyebrows are more pronounced with his narrowed eyes. As he starts to give you what you’re sure is an impassioned lecture, your mother pops up out of nowhere, gushing, “Rafe? Well of course you can go sweetie, isn’t that right hon?” she turns to your dad, a single eyebrow raised daring him to defy her. Your parents are the ultimate power couple, wielding power and guilt over each other almost as easily as they try to do to you.

He sighs, realizing the fight with his vengeful wife isn’t worth the lesson you’re not going to learn anyway and nods, “Alright, just be back for supper, we’re going to sit down as a family tonight. And tell Sarah we said hi.”

If either parent noticed your stiffened back, they don’t comment on it. You hadn’t told them that Sarah dumped you like yesterday’s news just yet. Why blow a perfect cover story? Again, the lack of guilt should probably concern you, but you’re more focused on the very expensive, very good quality wine that you know is waiting for you on the Cameron’s yacht.

An hour later, you’re sitting between a very uncomfortable Topper and a disinterested Kelce with a full wineglass in your left hand. Your right hand slides your sunglasses back onto your eyes to shield them from the harsh sunlight that beats down directly on your face.

You can’t find the energy to strike up a conversation with either of them, and they don’t seem very inclined to start one either, so you turn your head to the side and look out at the water until you see a familiar beat up boat approaching. You visibly tense as your eyes lock on your blonde former best friend laughing with her arm around John B as their stupid friends talk and laugh around them. “You okay, y/n?” Kelce finally speaks, noticing your change in posture.

“Never better,” you drily reply moving to turn your head back to the other side of the yacht, as if the other boat on the water didn’t exist at all. Your eyes briefly flicker to the other blond on the boat, taut muscles on display beyond the ratty cut-off tank top as the pogue known as JJ attempts to wrestle with his friend Pope. You feel a drop in your stomach that perplexes you as your eyes scan his sunkissed skin. Startled, you turn your head quickly and take a huge sip of your wine.

You anticipated some sort of confrontation, maybe a thrown insult, but their boat simply eclipsed the yacht and they continued on their way. You were annoyed by the concerned look that Kelce threw your way after they had left, so you downed your glass and grabbed Rafe’s hand and all but dragged him inside the cabin.

The second the door shuts behind you, you’re on him, mouths mashing in a hungry kiss. He smirks against your mouth and leads you into the bathroom and proceeds to rid you of your clothes.

As you’re letting Rafe Cameron fuck you in the bathroom of his yacht, your mind can’t help but think you’re fucking over Sarah, too.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he praises in your ear as he thrusts into you from behind. You don’t even have the energy to fake a moan, you just lean your head back against his shoulder.

When he’s finished, you simply slip your dress back on, refill your glass and sit back between Topper and Kelce as if they didn’t just hear you hook up with their best friend.

You go to bed early that night after a “nice family dinner” that consists of back-handed compliments and your mother fishing for details about your time on the yacht. You don’t think she’d be too pleased about letting Rafe ‘have you’ before ‘locking you down’, so you keep it to a minimum. Both parents drill it into your head that as a Y/L/N, you’re held to a higher standard than your peers. Perfect grades, perfect life, perfect daughter. You don’t know how to tell them you don’t even feel human anymore, so you smile and nod as they pester and nag. Your little sister sits quietly the whole time, looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher.

[smokydrake]

“Table for Almost Two” | Rafe x Reader | ANGST

WARNINGS: angst, death

WORD COUNT: 1,727

DESCRIPTION: 19 years after you left your ex-husband Rafe Adler, you two find yourselves in the same city of two separate worlds. But the only thing stopping the both of you from new beginnings is how deep past wounds run…

This AU was heavily inspired by Tom Ford’s recent film “Nocturnal Animals” starring Amy Adams and Jake Gyllenhaal. If you haven’t already seen it, I strongly recommend that you do! Tom’s neo-noir motifs are absolutely stunning. I wanted to recreate that atmosphere in this fic; angst is seriously a challenge for me to write. Regardless, it’s something I plan on doing again because bittersweet endings just hurt so good ;-)

Inspired by this song (Table For Two - Abel Korzeniowski)

You hated his father. He was everything like his son, and at the same time, everything but.

Adler Sr. was a man of words. Whether they were true or not, he was a professional– an artist– at the game of language. Wringing, winding, weaving; he turned word into action and everyone thought it came from inside themselves, a righteous figment of self-derived moral intellect.

You were one of those ones in everyone. And perhaps, Rafe was too. But you wouldn’t have known. What you did know was that once, somewhere in your past, you were in love with Rafe Adler, and he with you. You thought that it was enough, and despite the outside forces that tried their hardest to keep you two apart, love would prevail.

You were young then, and so was he.

But the outside forces were not.

They provoked, stalled, waited until your walls were weak and penetrable, and then they planted little seedlings of insecurities in your rose-colored eyes. And when those flowers of doubt began to bloom, that once fiery passion you and your lover shared wilted… and in turn, you two awoke to what was known to be reality.

You found your place in their web of words and you went to it complacently, knowing to an extent that although you didn’t build the destructive trap of thinking on your own, it was a good destructive trap of thinking, and you deserved the web as much as it deserved you.

On late Sunday afternoons, you used to tell Rafe he had his father’s eyes, which you hated saying but loved to notice– at times piercing, other times void and static– but they were always blue. Different shades of blue occasionally, but always a cold hue of unhappiness. And on these late Sunday afternoons, the sun would be at its golden peak, and he would bristle and shroud away from its idealistic stare. That, or he was bristling and shrouding away from yours.

The latter made more sense.

And so the web began to spin.

His father said, “You two fell in love too young. It’s alright, we all do. The only thing that matters is now that you know what’s truly right for him.”

It was a humid summer morning when you left him.

Before the sun was out, before Rafe was awake to see you slip into the silver 1973 Camaro parked out front of the summer beach house. You thought it was cruel; leaving him during your weekend get-away, but the trip was going nowhere to begin with. It was a pathetic attempt at mending what you had left with him, and the longer you let it drag on, the more it seemed to hurt him.

You told yourself you loved him enough to let him go. It was right, pragmatic,sensible. He was the king’s son, and you were the lover that got tangled in his sheets. He, a city prince of belligerent wealth, was lost in your small-town aspirations, your dreams of being a writer, a wielder of the weakest sword. He did not belong in your world, and neither did you in his.

Despite how much he tried to deny it, you knew how much of his father he was. The way he held his chin at a precise tilt, the calculative gleam in his eye, the passive-aggressive push for practicality.

Adler Sr. once whispered to you, “Watch while you still can, darling. He has no place in the world but at the top.”

And at the top he stayed. There were no phone calls, no messages, no letters. Secretly you wondered if he felt relieved; you breaking it off instead of him. It was like watching sand slip from the upper tier of the hourglass– both of you were running out of heart for each other, and it was only the matter of who would be the last grain.

It wasn’t until 19 years later there was an email, sent from Mr. Raphael Adler, CEO and #32 on TIME’s 100 Most Influential People of the Year.

He had heard about your book, #39 on New York Times’ Best Sellers of the Year.

You were in the big city for the month of April, finishing up a few signing events and meet-ups. He was also in the big city, for he owned a quarter of it. He invited you to dinner to congratulate you on your tremendous success.

You knew it was foolish. Every fiber in your body was against it. But you remembered what it was like to rest your forehead against his chin, to feel his breathing against your naked body, his rare, eye-crinkling smile that he hid beneath pale knuckles. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good night’s sleep. How many times did you read his email?

“Do you fare well with French cuisine? Le Noctambule, Thursday at 7:30. I’d love to see you again.”

Rigid. Poise. Aloof.

“I’d like that very much.”

-

It rained that Thursday at 7:30. You were dressed appropriately for the weather when you climbed into your car and drove yourself to the restaurant.

In your head, you casually introduced yourself, or rather, reintroduced yourself to your former husband. Surely it wasn’t difficult, after all, your bestseller was nothing but a variety of fictional introductions. Wasn’t every chapter an introduction, a new step up the plot ladder, brought up and presented eloquently in its own right? You were an architect of literature now, a player in this game of language, a woman of her words.

But no matter how hard you tried, your greetings came out tacky, distant; “Hello Rafe, it’s been so long.” “Rafe Adler, wonderful seeing you again.” “Hi, Rafe. I’m sorry I left because your father scared me.” “Rafe Adler, how the hell have you been?”

The parking lot was vast, lined with glossy red vehicles accompanied by tall men dressed in black and white. Chauffeurs snapped open thick umbrellas and car doors, ladies dripping in velvet and satin floated up the wet steps to the soft orchestral music, oblong potted trees guarded the polished front doors under the dim warm light. They kept a protective eye out for outsiders, folks who didn’t belong, folks who were lost and needed guidance and direction to a place far away and out of sight.

Never before did the coat on your shoulders feel as transparent, the dress on your hips look as cheap, the hands at your sides turn as ice-cold.  You stood in the restaurant lobby, behind a modish couple of grandeur and opulence, who stood behind the glossy marble counter of judgment, which stood before a smart cardboard-cutout hostess with painted expressions of maturity.

What were you doing here?

The woman in front of you with the white fur skin craned her jeweled throat ever so slightly, as if she were inquiring the room, but you knew her moneyed eyes were on you.

What is she doing here?

They seemed to say. You dolefully tucked away the last bit of self-esteem you had left.

Rafe

He sat at the far end of the room. He was more handsome than you remembered, if that was even possible. Dressed in a white tux and hair smoothed back, he lounged in the crimson upscale section of the dining revenue where the chairs were inlaid with gold engravings and the tables sprouted tall flutes of Dom Pérignon.

But you didn’t know that it was Dom Pérignon in those glasses, because that just wasn’t of your bourgeois knowledge. Nor was the fact that Mr. Raphael Adler, CEO and #32 on TIME’s 100 Most Influential People of the Year, owned Le Noctambule of New York City, New York, as well as Le Noctambule of Marseille, France. Neither was the fact that you now stood before the marble counter of judgment, and the restaurant hostess with the owl eyes wondered if you were in the right place.

In your mind, you were not.

How stupid

Did he see you, standing at the front lobby?

They’re all looking at you

He didn’t see you. You wondered if there was a time when he ever did.

You left him for a reason

You didn’t see him at the table. You saw a man who looked too much like his father.

“A name please, Mademoiselle?”

No.

You wouldn’t make the same mistake. You were not going to get caught up in a continuous loop of this game. You ran out of heart for it a long time ago.

So you went outside, where it was raining. It was dark outside and the ground was wet; the neon red of the traffic lights cast an ominous sanguine in the distance away from this place. Tuxedo-clad men stared you down behind silver-rimmed frames and thick cigars as you got in your ride where it was not raining, and watched with disinterest as you drove home. Outside the glass windows of your car, it started to rain harder, but that was fine by you, because it drowned out your thoughts almost cathartically. Your foot pressed hard against the pedal, until the step under your heel hit the floor.

The rain was a blur against your windshield and vision– or were those your tears? You couldn’t tell. Rain was everywhere, beating your roof like falling rocks in time with the accelerating rev of the spinning engine. Wet rain splashed on the wetter pavement. The ground became oil. You hit the brakes. Nothing. Nothing stopped: not the rain, not your tears, not the car–

Dear God, the car

The pavement was underneath you

Above you

Underneath you again

Your seat was too tight; it was getting harder and harder to breathe

Just a wet, searing heat and the smell of burning metal–

Then there was no pavement, there was no sound, and there was no rain.

Nothing but web: soft, destructive, and ultimately where you belonged.

His eyes– or his father’s? For God’s sake did it even matter– flashed somewhere behind your fleshy purple eyelids, and for once they gleamed with borderline happiness.

You should’ve known better.

And somewhere in the present and your past, Rafe waited at the small table, sheltered from the rain by dim candlelight and the mute clinking of silverware, wondering if his heart was wrong to want to see you again.

[bloodibambiidoll]

UMMM THIS IS SO HOT??

i feel like ex!husband rafe is the kind of man who once divorced never moved onto another woman or slept around for fun. mostly because my headcanon is that he fell hard for his wife, like the loyalty, trust, and respect never left their relationship even seperated.

in the same light i feel like his wife would never bad mouth him as a father or partner. if anything they ended things because of rafe's lifestyle, i see rafe as a man who once becoming a father tried his best to bury his demons but as his kid got older slowly started regressing to his old ways.

idk this is just some lore for a fic i'll hopefully write 🤷🏽‍♀️ lemme know how you like it so far 😚

[cute-sucker]

ex husband! Rafe is literally amazing

I live for that concept

i live for it to hun dw !!! i love the thought of it all bc i think he would def divorce you when he was a bit younger (20's,) due to his work taking up all the time.

he's always working on different things, and you feel neglected as his young wife...and i fear he might be dealing with addiction too. throughout that time period of his life, he's a whirlwind. (you definetly got pregnaunt out of wedlock, and the stress of that also took a toll on both of you.)

a year passed before the two of you divorced, and well after he realised his mistakes and wants you back !! that's what i imagine in my head <3 he's leaving an abundance of flowers at your porch, inviting you to all of the events, buying stock from your buisness and i fear you might be catching feelings again too, because all of a sudden he's the charming, well seasons rafe that he promised to be for you.

all of a sudden, he's taking you to dinner parties with his ring on his neck, and giving you that smile that you always knew. you still have the name cameron, and he relishes the way you're called it even after your divorce.

he takes so much care of his daughter, that's one of his biggest regrets of leaving you, because how could he leave one of the best things in his life. daisy, with a toothy smile and the earnest calling of "daddy," always falling off her lips when she sees him. she's two when you guys divorce, and you still remember restless nights when she pressed her spit covered lips on yours trying to grab for her dad.

so yes, i love the concept too.