#outer banks

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞

— the “my emergency contact” trend with your boyfriend, rafe

 personapeters 2025 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[pencil-n-pen]

YOUNGBLOOD

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ . ۫ ꣑ৎ . ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

rafe x fem! black cat! pogue!reader

masterlist | kofi

wc: 9.3k (sorry)

summary: summary: You’re the girl. Every guy who asks you out gets the same answer: No. You don’t do dating anymore. But as your reputation grows, so does the challenge. And when Rafe Cameron gets you in sights, he’s not about to give up.

cw: Rafe and reader are both assholes (hers is justified bc to me women are always correct) but it works out. oh also this one is a little spicy !! ofc not full smut but this is Rafe Cameron we’re talking about i can’t NOT include a LITTLE. ward jumpscare for like two seconds, references to past shitty relationships

tags/tropes: he falls first and harder (seriously he wants her BAD) black cat x doberman, kind of how to lose a guy in 10 days vibes, at first Rafe wants her bc of the challenge but eventually he just WANTS her, mild hurt/comfort, dom! rafe but also he does whatever reader wants (except stop trying to date her)

a/n: in this fic i imagine reader being one of those super fluffy feral black cats and then rafe is this doberman sitting behind her. walk him like a dog sis walk him like a dog

i’m so glad i finally finished this i’ve been writing it for ages but here it is !! hope u guys like it <3

songs i listened to while writing: Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer, Meddle About by Chase Atlantic, Champagne Coast by Blood Orange, Salvatore by Lana Del Rey, Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey, sex money feelings die by Lykke Li, Angel by Massive Attack and Horace Andy

title taken from Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer aka this fics anthem

. ݁₊ ⚜️ . ݁˖

He meets you in, of all places, a fucking Barnes & Nobles.

There’s one Barnes & Nobles in the entirety of Kildare Island; it’s on the North side.

Rafe is only there because one of Kelce’s current flings is obsessed with reading those smutty books. Race doesn’t get the appeal. Apparently, the fling is at home sick and Kelce wants to get her something to make her feel better.

Rafe and Topper both think the partying might seriously be affecting his brain chemistry.

But anyway, Kelce asked Rafe to help because he’s “got a way with wooing women” and then since Rafe was going he said fuck it and invited Topper, who will surely be the voice of reason in all of this.

(He seriously doubts it, since Topper almost died in a burning building for the sake of his girlfriend, but whatever. Rafe just doesn’t want to deal with pussy-whipped Kelce by himself.)

They’re on their third go around the store and Rafe is beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of just grabbing the nearest book of the shelf and telling Kelce to just fucking pick something when he spots you:

Straining to reach a book on one of the top shelves. Looking perfectly and immaculately delicious.

“Yo,” He smacks Topper’s arm, getting his attention, “Who the hell is that?”

Topper follows his eyeline, landing on you.

“No fucking way, dude. No chance.”

He frowns, turning and looking at Topper, affronted.

Topper shrugs. “No offense, man. I tried once. All the guys in the island got this stupid-ass nickname for her, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mhm. The Pogue Princess. She’s turned down every single guy to ever ask her out. Even the Kooks.”

Rafe snorts. “So she’s arrogant?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. I totally thought she was a bitch when she turned me down, but honestly, it makes sense. People only ask her out because she always says no.”

“So?” He scoffs. “She’s fucking hot. She should be flattered.”

He looks her up and down again. “I’m gonna ask her.”

He can picture it exactly: having the one and only Pogue Princess hanging off his arm. The girl no other guy has banged— she’d be his, and his only. He’d have those lips and that face— he’d have you.

And you’d have him, of course. Not many girls can say that.

“Suit yourself man. Don’t come crying to me when she turns your ass down.”

He strides over to you, sidling up next to you, leaning against the shelf.

“Hey,”

“No.”

He blinks. “What?”

“No. No I don’t want your number, no I don’t want to sleep with you, no I don’t want to go out with you.” You say, not looking over at him once.

“Well, how come, doll?” He says, leaning down a bit so he’s closer to your height. “We could have a good time, you and me.”

“First of all,” You start, pulling a book off the shelf. “It’s a known fact that Rafe Cameron doesn’t date Pogues. Secondly, I can tell you exactly how this relationship would go. We’d date, and then after a few weeks you’d grow sick of my Pogue-ish ways or something like that. We’d break up, and then I would be seen as even more of a social pariah than I am now. I’d be unwelcome in Pogue spaces because I’d forever be the girl who dated Rafe Cameron just to get her heart broken like all the others, and I’m already a stain on this side of the island, but I’m willing to bet your groupies and fanclub would increase their ridicule if I was ever seen here. So no.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You’ve thought this out.”

“No I haven’t. It’s predictable.”

You re-shelf the book you were holding then walk away, stalking deeper into the store.

He looks back at Topper once, flashing his best friend that dangerous smile.

Topper groans in the distance, all too away of the effect a challenge has on Rafe Cameron.

—

You have to say. You’re a little surprised to feel his continued gaze on your back, even more displeased to hear his footsteps trailing behind you.

“You won’t better your chances by annoying me.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” You slow your walk, reaching out to tap your hand on the spine of a book you’ve been eyeing for awhile. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“And what does my reputation say about me?”

“That you’re an asshole and a heartbreaker,” You turn and look back at him over your shoulder. “You’re not exactly selling me, here.”

Your eyes latch on something tucked under his arm. It’s the two books he saw you eyeing. His gaze catches yours and he gives you a cocky smirk.

You roll your eyes and turn back around. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Rafe Cameron.”

He trails after you the entire time you’re in the store, picking book after book off the shelf that he sees your eyes even linger on.

“What’s your plan here?” You ask, turning a book over in your hands and scanning the blurb on the back. “Buy the entire store? Woo me with your credit card? You’re not the only guy on the island with a piece of plastic.”

“Pretty sure I’m the guy with the most on his plastic, though.”

You sigh loudly through your nose. “I’m not interested in men who are only interested in me as an object. You want the trophy you get from ‘bagging the Pogue Princess.’ So fuck off.”

You’re so sick of this. Sick of every guy being the same— only being interested in you as an ego boost. No guy has ever been interested in you for you.

And they never will be, so long as you keep turning them down. Every man wants what he can’t have.

“You’re seriously not going to get anything?”

You pause in your storm off, turning around to look at Rafe. “What?”

His arms are laden with a thick stack of books, muscles flexed at the weight of the stack, straining at the sleeve of his t-shirt.

He gestures to the shelves around you. “You must have looked at the entire store. You’re really just going to leave?”

“I’m a Pogue, Rafe. You do the math.”

Your hands clench and unclench on the strap of your bag. You never thought you’d catch the attention of Rafe Cameron. If Sarah’s the Kook Princess, then he’s the Kook Prince. Dating him would give you some major points on the North Side of the Island.

…And ruin your relationship with 90% of the Pogue’s on The Cut.

Besides. Even if you did date him, he would stick around. No way in hell he would. And then you’d be back right where you started.

Your fumbling with your keys out in the small parking lot, groaning as your ancient beater car key once again refuses to turn in the lock when you hear footsteps behind you.

You rub a hand over your face and turn around.

“Can you please leave me alone? Seriously.”

He’s got that stupid smile on his face again and he’s holding something out to you.

A book. Just one.

You take it from his hands cautiously. “You had a whole stack. Why downgrade to just one?”

He clasps his hands behind his back. “Cause you looked at all those other ones once. You stopped at this one three times. Figured you might’ve wanted it.”

You chew your lip. “I’m still not going out with you.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d change your mind right now.”

He leans down, reaching forward, breath fanning your face. You screw your eyes shut, bracing.

A loud click behind you. He pulls away.

“But you will.”

With that, he turns, walking back into the store. At the doors, he flashes you one last smile.

You take one breath. Two.

You climb into your now unlocked car, tossing the book onto the passenger seat.

When you get home, you won’t be able to stop thinking about how in the moment, you kind of wanted him to kiss you.

—

He finds you at the Boneyard, because of course he does.

You’re sitting on one of the drift wood-slash-benches near the bonfire, pretending like you’re not shivering.

“You know, most people come to beach parties to let loose and have fun. That includes me. Having fun and letting loose does not include you.”

“Oh, come on. This is neutral territory, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What am I allowed to call you?”

“Nothing. Go find another girl to stroke your ego. Or your dick. I don’t care either way.”

He leans down into your space. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I only came over to give you this.”

This time, instead of holding out a book (that you had, in fact, read in a matter of days. It was as good as you’d thought it’d be) he holds out a jacket. One of those expensive North Face fleeces.

You scrunch your nose. “And why are you giving me that?”

“You’re cold.”

“So?”

“So, I’m being a gentleman.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you knew what that word was.”

He drops the fleece on your head. “Take the fucking jacket.”

You slide it off your head, putting it on and glaring at him all the while.

“I’m only putting this on because I’m cold.”

“Sure you are.”

“This has nothing to do with you. I’m still not dating you.”

“Mhm.”

“I hate you.”

He cracks the same smile he gave you at the bookstore. “Sure.”

He takes a swig of his beer, walking backwards towards his group of friends. “You look good in my clothes, princess.”

You flip him two fingers, and he flips them straight back.

You’ll deny it later that you smiled after the interaction.

—

He shows up at your job. This time, Topper’s with him.

You close your eyes and count to ten, mentally picturing fleeing the country and never having to deal with men again before speaking.

“You know, there’s a term for you right now.”

He smiles that same stupid fucking smile, tapping his fingers on the table of the cafe you work at. He’s seated outside in your section. You highly doubt it’s by mistake.

“Determined? Persistent?”

“A repeat offender,” You say flatly. “Now will you please order and get the hell out here?”

To his credit, Topper looks vaguely uncomfortable with his own presence. Though that might be because you did turn him down particularly brutally. You wince internally. It wasn’t his fault, per se. It was just… not a good day.

Rafe is perfectly capable of handling your top-notch bitch-ery, and secretly, you enjoy the chance to be as openly angry as you want to be.

Rafe pretends to read over the menu. You know he’s only pretending because you watched him read it for five straight minutes when they first arrived. He probably has it memorized.

“I’d like a blueberry muffin,” He says, still smiling. “Just one.”

You scribble it down on your order sheet, then turn to Topper. “And you?”

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “Just a water, please.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Seriously? You came all the way to my job to harass me and that’s what you order? One muffin and a water?”

You write the water down anyway, clicking your tongue. “And the asshole-ery continues.”

“And what would you have us order, then?” Rafe asks, eyeing you from his position at the table.

It’s scary how well he commands a space just by being— he’s Rafe Cameron and he knows it. He exudes power and control.

He’s the exact kind of man you turn down hard. No chance of anything.

“Something actually worth bothering me for,” You slip the notepad into your apron pocket and spin on your heel, “I have other orders and tables to wait. Don’t expect to get your muffin and water soon.”

As you wait and bus the tables that need to be dealt with before your orders are ready, you begin to wonder if you’re going too far.

This isn’t just any Kook. This is Rafe. He could completely and utterly destroy your life if he wanted to.

Maybe you’re better off agreeing to go out with him. Just to be safe. Women don’t turn a man like that down.

Finally, you get their orders out to them, setting them on the table a little less harsh than you were originally planning.

“There,” Can’t quite stop your mouth, though. “Do you want the check now?”

Rafe picks up his muffin, shrugging. “Sure.”

You slide them the bill— you had it ready the second you got the chance. You’d rather not have them here any longer than you have to.

It was hard enough to get a job outside The Cut. You don’t need to give your boss any more reason to fire you.

Rafe tosses a few bills onto the bill and you take it, counting the money.

“You overpaid.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Your total was nine dollars and twenty six cents. You just handed me two hundred dollar bills.”

He tilts his head at you like he’s confused. “I thought you were supposed to tip waiters and shit.”

You blink at the bills. “Yeah like, five dollars. Not two hundred. I don’t even think we accept hundred dollar bills.”

“Tell your manager I’m the one who paid. Can’t take issue with a Cameron.”

“You’re the worst,” You tell him, but take the money back to your manager. He isn’t happy, but like Rafe said— can’t take issue with a Cameron. He gives you the change you need and bores holes into your back with how hard he’s staring as you walk the money back.

“Here.” You thrust your arm out, handing him the change.

Rafe crosses his arms. “I said that was your tip.”

“I can’t accept this. I don’t accept pity money.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not pity money.”

“Then what kind of money is it? Cause it sure feels like pity money. Oh wait, is this you-owe-me-now money?”

He groans. “Can’t you just take the fucking money?”

“Not if there’s a consequence.”

If Topper looked uncomfortable before, he looks almost nauseous now. You kind of feel bad for him.

Rafe scrubs a hand down his face. “Will you just take it? No consequence.”

“Why?”

Topper chokes on his water.

“Why?” Rafe asks, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Because it’s what I do. You’re the Pogue Princess, yeah? I’m giving you the princess treatment.”

“But why? What do you gain from this?”

“I’m just gonna go wait at the car,” Topper says, getting up so quickly he bumps the table.

Rafe’s eyes never leave you, the money still clutched in your hand. “You know what I get out of this? The prettiest girl on the island in my clothes. The prettiest girl on the island spending my money.”

The bills start to crinkle in your grip. “I’m a Pogue. You don’t date Pogue’s.”

He stands, pushing back his chair in a much more controlled manner than you were expecting, given the look on his face. “Have you ever considered that you’re the exception?”

“No, because I’m not. The only part of me that’s an exception is the challenge. That’s all you want.”

Something flashes in his eyes. His gaze is dark where it scans your features, something calculating in his eyes.

“Some guy fucked you over, huh?”

Your near full body flinch is a dead giveaway. “Fuck you, Rafe. You’re an asshole.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. But I’m gonna keep showing you what this,”

He gestures to the both of you. “Could be like. I’m not that kind of asshole. Not to girls who look like you.”

He stands, taking all the change out of your hand except the $100 bill.

“Hold onto that for me,” He says, voice husky as it brushes your ear.

His hand comes up for one second, two, and then he lowers it. Like he’d had to restrain himself ok touching you.

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine. He smirks at the reaction.

And then, he’s gone. Now you’re just some waiter standing at a table with a $100 clutched in your hand.

You shake yourself out of your stupor, getting busy bussing the table. You notice something fluttering under his plate.

An old receipt with a number scribbled on it.

And a $20 bill.

“Son of a—“

—

You’re having a really bad day. One of those thirty-million-minor-inconveniences-in-a-row days. With one last fuck you from the universe on top.

You couldn’t get your hair right no matter how many times you tried, your makeup is rushed and bad because you spent too much time on your hair, once again one of your neighbors pulled out of their driveway without looking and almost killed you, a guy tried feel you up during your shift and your manager told you it was your fault for wearing revealing clothing (you were literally wearing your uniform) and then top it all off, your car won’t start. It won’t even try.

You slam your head against the steering wheel. Your boss made you stay late because of the incident so it’s getting dark now. You’re not walking all the way back to The Cut. But you don’t know how you’re getting home. It’s not like you can just call a mechanic. None of your pogue friends have cars and only person who does you’d… rather not call right now.

So that just leaves one option.

A really, really, terrible option.

A horrific one.

You curse as you rifle through your purse, pulling out the old receipt. Your phone’s almost dead, so you have to make this count.

You dial the number, pulling your knees to your chest and sinking low in your seat.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rafe.”

“I was wondering when you’d call me.”

“I’m sure you were,” You say flatly. “Listen I… I need a favor.”

“Spill.”

“I’m at work. My car won’t start. I just—“ You break off, frustrated tears welling in your eyes. “Can you please come pick me up?”

“I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

He hangs up the phone and you sigh, scrubbing your face and willing the tears to just go away. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, probably smearing your makeup past the point of return, but you can’t find it with in yourself to care.

You sit there for what feels like minutes, hands pressed to your face trying desperately to stop the tears that keep flowing when you hear a car pull up next to you.

You sit up, hands lowered, eyeing the sleek Range Rover that just pulled up next to you.

You manage to climb out of your car, hugging your waist in an act of self-soothing and a sad attempt at getting warm. It gets cold in Kildare at night.

Rafe rounds the front of his car, expression pinched.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, really, just…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely to your car. You sniff hard, rubbing the back of your hand across your face. “It’s just been a long day.”

He looks over your shoulder, assessing your car before looking back to you. “Get whatever you need from your car.”

You rush to gather the items from your car, piling them in the backseat at Rafe’s direction. You turn, facing him when something is thrown at your face.

It’s disturbing that you recognize it by deja vu alone.

“Rafe—“ You say, taking the jacket in your hands.

“You’re cold. Put it on.”

“But—“

“Listen, princess, I’m perfectly satisfied waiting here all night until you put that on.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the car.

You squeeze the jacket in your hand. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That.”

“Mmm,” He hums. “That’s a tough one. Probably cause you look pathetic when you shiver.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do. You get all hunched. Like an old lady.”

“Is this your idea of flirting?”

He smiles. “Put the jacket on.”

You do. It’s just as warm as last time.

He nods his head towards the car and you climb into the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt.

He climbs in after you, putting his seatbelt on and pulling the car out of the parking lot. After a moment, he reaches across the console, turning on your seat warmer and cranking the heat up.

“Thank you,” You say after a moment.

“I told you I’d show you what life would be like if you were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” He says, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Mine.”

“So you’d have me, what? Caged? Chained to you.”

“Spoiled, is the word I’d used.”

“I’m not an object, Rafe. I’m not going to be some kind of kept woman.”

He snorts. “Who said anything about that?”

“That’s what you want, is it not? Want me to have no personality, no nothing. You want me to hang off your arm and laugh at everything you say—“

“Fuck no,” He says so vehemently you pause. “You’re so fucking mouthy. And stubborn. If I wanted some brainless fangirl, I’d go find one. I wouldn’t pick her up from her job and drive her home. Probably wouldn’t give her my fucking jacket.”

You look up at him. “You wouldn’t?”

He shrugs. “None of those girls tell me to fuck off.”

“So it is the challenge. That’s all.”

“That’s not all. You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Come on. No guy has ever given you his jacket? You seriously want me to believe you look like that no one’s ever spoiled you?”

“No,” You say curtly, “You want me to believe that every guy just enjoys spending a bunch of money on a girl?”

“Not a girl. Their girl. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Cause it’s not your job to get it. It’s your job to be spoiled. Now where the hell am I going?”

You give him a vague address— just the street name and how to get there. You’re not stupid enough to give him your house address.

You don’t talk for the duration of the drive, you begin to shrug out of his jacket when a hand on your thigh stops you.

“Keep it. You can give it back to me the next time you see me.”

“There’ll be a next time?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

You slowly put the jacket back on, then hastily climb out of his car, barely remembering to grab your stuff from the back.

You pause by the window. He rolls it down.

“Um. Thank you. Again.”

His lips twitch. “Don’t mention it.”

—

You don’t see him for a full two weeks after that.

After the first week, you figure he’s busy.

After the second week, you assume you scared him off.

You’re out on your old, busted kayak on the water, enjoying the early evening sun.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,”

You look over, eyeing Rafe and Sarah on one of the Cameron’s smaller boats. Sarah waves at you kindly. She’s always been fairly kind to you—

“Princesses have to stick together.” She’d said to you once, an easy smile on her lips, her face bathed in an orange glow in front of the bonfire.

A similar smile is on her face today. But the one on Rafe’s is nothing but mischief.

“Why don’t you come over here?” He calls.

You flip him a certain finger.

“Come on!” Sarah yells. “We’ve got beer!”

Well. Who are you to say no to free alcohol?

—

You should’ve said no to the free alcohol.

“You know what Rafe?” the words tumble out of your mouth, clumsy. “You’re really hot. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to hate you when you look so hot?”

You’re sitting on one of the benches on the boat, half leaning on the back of it and half leaning on Rafe.

You might have forgotten to take into account the fact that you’re a lightweight.

He raises an eyebrow. “How many beers did you have?”

“Don’t worry about that,” You slur, attempting to shush him but failing halfway through, your hand falling harmlessly into his lap. “I like beer. I like drinking. How come I don’t drink often?”

You pause, squinting at him. “How come you’re so hot?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “You’re drunk.”

“Who cares? I like being drunk. Drunk me is fun. Like that one song. Release your in-hi-bitions— feel the rain on your skin!”

He gives you a pained look. “Please don’t try to start dancing. You don’t have the coordination for it, and I’m not going into the water when you tip overboard.”

“Pshhh, yeah you would. You like taking care of me. Cause you’re weird.”

You turn to face the other side of the boat, where Sarah is watching you with an amused expression. “Sarah! Did I tell you that he drove aaaaaaaallllllllll the way to my job to pick me up cause my car wouldn’t start?”

She tilts her head, looking at Rafe. “You told Dad you were going to go pick up Topper and Kelce from a party so they didn’t drunk drive.”

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “That’s like. Basically the same thing.”

“It is not. You really are a lightweight, huh?”

You squint at Sarah. “Did John B. tell you that?”

She splutters. “No, I—“

You cross your arms, frowning. Then you turn to look up at Rafe again. “I should’ve called John B. to pick me up, cause he’s the only Pogue I know who’s got a car. But I didn’t. I called you.”

“Mm,” Rafe says, his jaw tensing and un-tensing. “And why is that.”

“Cause he’s being a dick. He’s all upset ‘cause I’m hanging out with you, keeps telling me I’m gonna get hurt again and blah blah blah, but then, it turns out he’s been dating Sarah for weeks and he didn’t tell me! It’s the same thing! And we’re not even dating.”

Rafe looks at Sarah. “You’re dating him? That’s who you broke up with Topper for?”

She glares right back at him. “There is literally a Pogue in this boat right now who is only here because you want to date her. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“She’s different.”

“How?”

“How?”

You and Sarah ask the same question at the same time. Rafe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s not just some random Pogue I picked up off the street.”

“I could have been.”

“You’re not helping.”

You frown, staring at your feet.

He gazes at you for a moment. “She’s just… different.”

You blink up at him through your lashes. “You should kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because when sober-you remembers all of this, she’s already going to kill me.”

“Not to mention I would.” Sarah grumbles, taking a sip of her own beer. “Come on, Rafe. You should bring her home. It’s getting late anyway.”

“Mm,” He hums, glancing at you up and down. “You wanna go home?”

“No. There’s no beer and Rafe there. S’ boring.”

“I’m pretty sure sober-you likes it that way.”

“Then she’s boring,” You poke the muscle of his bicep. “Do you work out?”

“Yes.”

“Are you buff?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Could you carry me?”

“Probably.”

“Hmm,” You sink lower on the bench, kicking your feet. “Okay. We should go home before sober-me figures out what’s going on.”

Sarah brings the boat back to their little dock while Rafe makes various attempts to keep you awake during the journey.

You whine, batting his hands away as he pokes your face.

“We’re here, so you’re gonna have to get up.”

You groan. “You’re a big strong man. Carry me.”

You hear a huff, a sigh, and then arms come around your middle and you let out a half-aborted scream as you’re hefted into the air, stomach landing on a muscled shoulder.

“I was joking,” You mumble, your arms dangling. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“I swear to fucking— here.”

He slides you off his shoulder and you wobble as you land, vision swimming.

“I think I’m a lightweight.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Why are you so mean?”

“I was told by a certain princess that it was my brand.”

“I wanna go home.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to walk then? Towards my car? So you can go home?”

You turn (slowly) and squint at his car in the distance. “That seems really far away.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t wanna walk that far.”

The muscles in his jaw jump. “Just this once, because I need to get you home, and you are drunk, I am going to offer you a piggy-back ride. Got it?”

“Hmm. Okay.”

He stoops a little so you can hop on, then hooks his arms under your legs with only a mild grunt, your arms crossing —not too tight— around his neck.

He makes his way across the deck and up the path, silently, your cheek pillowed on the side of his neck.

When he makes it to the car he opens the passenger side door and slides you into it, clicking your seat belt on when your fingers fumble with it.

He’s silent the entire drive, jaw clenched and hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

The silence practically thrums with anger, the charged air prickling your skin.

“Are you mad at me?”

He works his jaw. “No.”

“It seems like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Then how come you’re upset?”

He sighs out through his nose. He doesn’t respond right away. Waits until he pulls over at the front of your street, sets the car in park. His hands don’t leave the steering wheel.

“You’re… squishier than I thought.”

“You think I’m fat?”

“No- fuck. I’m saying you’ve got a convincing stone-cold-bitch act. Then you go and get drunk and turn into this. Makes me feel like a piece of shit.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t like it. Me.”

He finally looks over at you, his eyes hooded. “I never said that. It’s one thing for us to have this back and forth assholery, as you put it. But now I know this is also who I’m being a dick to.”

You look down at your lap. “You know, I wasn’t always a stone-cold bitch.”

He cuts you a look. “Stop talk—“

“No, you shut up, I’m not that drunk anymore,”

You’re totally lying, which he knows, but he lets you talk.

“There was… this guy. I really liked him. He really liked me. Well, I thought he did. He was a Kook, too. Everyone warned me against getting with him, but I thought what we had was real,” You clench your hands on your thighs. “It wasn’t. Turns out his friends had dared him to sleep with ‘the prettiest Pogue he could stomach.’ That’s all I was. The only Pogue he could stand to fake it with. He told me the morning after. We broke up.”

“Who—“

“It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you this so you understand that I am a frigid bitch, but I’m also… this. So you better not fuck this up.”

He chuckles. “What do you want me to do, then?”

You shrug. “Prove me wrong. And I’m not made of glass. You just gotta… take it.”

Rafe raises a single eyebrow. “Take it?”

“Look, I already told you I think you’re hot. You’ve got a brain. Put the pieces together.”

He rubs a hand across his jaw. “And if I go too far?”

“I’m not that fragile.”

He crosses his arms, biceps flexing. “You sure about this?”

“Right now? Yes.”

He hums. “I should say no. You’re drunk. You’re not in the right mind to make these kinds of decisions.”

“But?”

“I’d rather test this and see,” He leans down, across the middle console, eyes hooded and hungry as he stares down at you. “You’re on, pretty girl."

—

When you wake (in your own bed, shockingly) it’s to the sound of a chainsaw right next to your ear.

Oh. It’s actually just your phone buzzing.

You hit the accept button and roll over onto it instead of doing all the effort of lifting it onto your face.

“H’llo?”

“Morning, princess.”

You groan. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“You don’t remember last night?”

“You’re on, pretty girl.”

You groan again, this one long and drawn out. “Why did you let me drink? You should’ve thrown me off the side of the boat after the first beer.”

You’re utterly mortified at how you acted. There’s a reason you don’t really get drunk anymore.

“And get rid of my free show like that? Please.”

You huff, head pounding at the effort of remembering the night before and speaking. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Had to make sure all that drinking didn’t kill you. We’ve got plans tonight.”

You sit up a little in bed. “No we don’t. I have work tonight.”

“That’s your only dispute?”

“I figured I didn’t have to state the obvious ones.”

“Come on. It’s just a little party—“

“I don’t do parties, Rafe.”

“I recall seeing you at the boneyard more than a couple times.”

“Bonfires on the beach don’t count as parties.”

“So you’d come if it was on the beach?”

“No, I—“ You tap the speaker button, dropping the phone into your lap. “What’s the point of this party, exactly? You want to be seen in public with me? Want everyone to know I’m off limits?”

“Yes,” He says it so easily, though his voice a little rough, a little gravelly, “But you also need to lighten up. I’ll pick you up from work. Bring clothes to change into.”

You open your mouth to respond but the hang up tone beeps steadily in your ear.

Of course you had to go blab your tragic backstory to Rafe fucking Cameron.

—

Work is long as usual, and you’ve contemplated quitting several times by the time you’re changing into your ‘party’ clothes in the bathroom, ignoring the fact that Rafe has definitely been parked and waiting for half an hour.

Your boss kept you late. Again.

You rush out to his car, cursing. He’s leaned up against the passenger side door, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone. He looks up when you approach, the corners of his lips twitching.

He pushes off the car, opening the passenger side door and nodding towards it.

“You look good.”

You pause, shouldering your work bag. “That’s it? I keep you waiting for thirty minutes and that’s all you say?”

“Did you want me to get upset?”

“Well, no, but—“

He shrugs. “Don’t care. Get in the car.”

He closes the door after you then climbs in himself, cranking up the heat and driving towards the boneyard.

You notice his eyes flicking down to your thighs every now and then. When picking an outfit for the party/bonfire/whatever, you’d decided to go simple. Having Rafe follow you around would be attention enough.

Still, the jeans you’re wearing are tight. A bit more form-fitting than your usual attire.

He seems to notice.

You shift in your seat, a little self conscious under the heat of his gaze crossing your legs and angling them towards the car door.

He sighs. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

He reached a hand across the console, deft, strong fingers effortlessly hooking and curling over your knee and dragging your legs back over and closer to him. Once he resituates you, his hand travels a little higher, squeezing and rolling the plush flesh there in his hand.

Your breath hitches. “What are you doing?”

“Taking.”

You swallow heavily, nearly choking on the lump in your throat. “You better not act like this at the boneyard.”

“And what if I do?“

“I’ll leave.”

He snorts. “I’m your ride. You gonna walk home? In the cold?”

“It’s not cold out.”

“It is to you. You’re always shivering. You better have brought the jacket.”

He doesn’t have to say which jacket for you to know which one he’s referring to.

You cross your arms, firmly ignoring the hand still intermittently squeezing your thigh. “I did. But i’m serious, Rafe. You have to back off when we get there.”

“Mm,” He hums. “Then at least let me have a little now.”

There’s something in the way he says it. The timber of his voice, the low, almost croon to his tone. He says it like you’re in control. Like you have power over him.

Even just the idea of it is exhilarating.

You push your thigh up into his hand, just a little bit.

“Only cause you’ll be insufferable if I don’t.”

He curls his hand under your thigh, palm pressed to the side and fingers pressing into the muscle through your tight jeans.

“Thanks, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You pull up to the beach, party already well under way.

People cheer as Rafe climbs out of the car, but he ignores them in favor of walking over to your side of the car and offering you a hand, which you swat away.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re really hard to be polite to?”

“You’re just—“

“For the love of god, don’t start with that shit. Get over here.”

He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you to his side. He starts towards the beach and you squirm, not wanting to be seen tucked under his arm.

This is the exact scenario you’d wanted to avoid with this whole thing. Showing up with Rafe Cameron —literally climbing out of his car— and having his arm around you is the perfect way to be ostracized by almost ninety percent of your circle.

“Will you chill the fuck out?” Rafe says, slowing to a stop a little ways away from the party, turning you to face him. “We’re just going to a party.”

You attempt to shrug his arm off your shoulder, but it holds fast. “You don’t get it. You have money, so you don’t need a community to fall back on. We’re poor. All we have is each other. So if I walk over there with you, i’ll lose it. I’ll be a traitor.”

His expression twists. “You’re blowing this so far out of proportion it’s not even funny.”

Anger begins stirring in your chest. “Rafe—“

“Who cares? No seriously, who the fuck cares? Everyone on this island is a piece of shit in their own ways. No one gives a shit if I got you under my arm. No one’s watching you. You’re not a fucking celebrity. You’ve got a reputation for turning down guys, you’re not fuckin’ Taylor Swift.”

The anger fades and your skin prickles in its absence. “I don’t think that I’m famous or anything.”

Rafe’s features smooth into something a little calmer. “I know, I know. Is this cause John B’s being a dick?”

“He has a point—“

“No he doesn’t,” Rafe snorts, “He’s dating my sister. He doesn’t get to say anything.”

You sigh. “They’re just worried about me making the same mistakes again.”

His arm leaves your side and you resist the shiver that threatens to overtake you at the sudden loss of the warmth and stability you hadn’t realized you’d been reliant on during the length of the conversation.

Rafe slides a gold ring off his pointer finger— the gold ring. The Cameron signet ring. The ring he never takes off.

He takes your hand, turning it palm side up, and drops the ring in it.

“There. My dad would probably murder me if anything happened to that ring. If I become a real and serious dick to you, chuck it in the fucking ocean.”

You stare down at it. “This is real gold. It’s a family heirloom. You can’t just give it to me.”

“I’m not,” He says easily, “This is a loan. When you decide that I’m not gonna fuck you over, you can give it back.”

You close your fingers around the ring, still warm from his finger. You tilt your back, looking up at him through your lashes. A small smile starts to spread across your face.

“I’ve really got you wrapped around my finger, huh?”

He huffs a laugh, tucking you under his arm again and walking you towards the party. “Took you long enough.”

The party honestly is fun after that. You drink (not much, Rafe carefully watches your alcohol intake and makes sure you toe the line of tipsy, but don’t fall over into drunk territory. He spends the night nursing one beer, claiming designated driver whenever someone gives him shit for it.

“Never stopped you in the past.”

“Didn’t have precious cargo before.”

He stays true to your earlier agreement and remains fairly hands off, but follows you around the party like some sort of guard dog, lingering just over your shoulder and successfully scaring off every guy who even looks in your direction.

Some of the pogues do give you the occasional glare or judgmental look or two, but Rafe was right. No one cares.

It’s… nice. For once you’re not hoping no guy approaches you or praying a Kook doesn’t start some shit with you. With Rafe trailing behind you, one hand in his pocket and jaw set, you truly are free to just enjoy the party, for the first time in your life. No one’s trying to hit on you, no one’s trying to making a spectacle of trying to convince you to date them, no one is making snide comments.

It’s weird, because you’re accustomed to a certain kind and amount of anxiety that comes with going to a mixed party, but everytime you start wondering how things are going to go wrong, Rafe is there with an arm around your waist or some stupid comment or other about somebody at the party whispered in your ear.

You manage quite a bit more socializing at the party than you usually do. Unfortunately, between this and the alcohol, you tire pretty quick.

You trip over your third stick when Rafe settles a hand on your hip with an “Think it’s time you went to bed.”

You groan. “But I’m actually having a good time for once.”

He steers you in the direction of the car. “Well, you’re in luck, cause if you think you’re going to parties alone from now on, you got another thing coming.”

Rafe at your side —a seemingly permanent arrangement now— you stumble your way towards the car.

“Isn’t that boring for you?”

“If it was, I’d say something. Besides. There’ll be different parties. Stop worrying so much about shit.”

His words seem harsh, but his tone is nothing other than low and fond.

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to grab the jacket—“

“I did bring it—“

“Then why aren’t you wearing it?”

“It didn’t match the outfit!”

“Are you being serious right now?”

"Is it a crime to want to look good at a party--"

He chuckles, fingers flexing on your hip as he tugs you closer to him. "You're so stupid."

"Rude."

"Not rude if it's true."

You elbow his side, but he just laughs louder.

Unsurprisingly, he warms the car for you when you get in.

—

Storms are a common thing in Outerbanks. Everyone's used to them. Monsoons, thunder storms, even the occasional hurricane. So you're not surprised to get the warning, not surprised when it hits.

You are a little surprised to wake up pelted with rain, a tree branch in your room, and part of the roof missing.

"Shit," You gasp, pushing the fallen debris off your body and rolling out of your bed to assess the damage.

It's bad. The branch is big and long, probably from that stupid tree your neighbors refused to cut down that you said was going to be a storm hazard. They'd refused, and now there's a huge tree branch that's caved in your roof and part of the wall that separates your bedroom from the living room.

No one is home but you. No one ever is, but right now it causes tears to rise to your eyes, because there's a branch in your room, and the roof is in pieces, and now that you've stopped moving, your legs and arms and torso actually hurt quite a bit, and something warm and wet is running down your temple and when you touch your fingers to it, they come away wet and scarlet.

You're out of your depth and you're scared. You can't stay here, obviously, but you don't know what to do. No one else is home. You don't even know who to call. JJ is out, because who knows if his dad is home and he doesn't even have a phone right now, Kie's out too because her parents didn't like that you were a Pogue with a reputation, you and Pope aren't that close, and John B is... John B. He has a car, at least, and you grew up together, so he'd probably overlook everything between the both of you if you're in danger.

You snatch you waterlogged phone off your dresser, shaky fingers scrolling through your contacts, thumb hovering over John B's.

You should call him. You've been neglecting your friendship with the group recently, working around the clock and Rafe whisking you away. Everyone's busy in their own way, what with the treasure and everything, so this could be a moment to reunite, bond over how shitty the storms make life on the Cut.

There's one other person you could call.

You shouldn't. Should stick to the friends you know, call John B.

But if you called Rafe, he'd come. He'd come get you, and probably take you back to his house and you wouldn't have to worry about anything, because for some reason, he's serious about doing that.

You could call him. He probably wants you to.

You press call before you can talk yourself out of it.

"Do you know what time it is--"

"A tree branch fell on my roof and now I don't have part of my roof and I'm really cold and wet and please come get me."

"Jesus— okay, yeah, yeah I'm coming. Shit, okay. Are you hurt?"

"My head is bleeding and I'm battered all over, but I don't think I need to go to he hospital."

"You're bleeding from your head and you don't think you need to go to the hospital?"

You can hear the sound of a car door slamming and an engine turning over.

"I don't want to go because then I'll be stuck in these clothes and they'll poke and prod at me and it'll take ages and—"

"Alright, alright. Calm down. How bad is the damage to the house. Look around for me."

"Um," You turn in place, scrutinizing the disaster and chaos around you. "I think most of the roof is intact, just the portion that covers my bedroom and some of the living room are uncovered. The branch took out most of the wall that seperates my room from the living room."

"Fuck. Okay, what about the rest of the house?"

"Um, I don't think I can get to it. The tree branch and other house... pieces are blocking my door."

"Can you get out? At all?"

"Yeah, I think through my window."

"Don't move. Take what you need from your room. I'll be there soon."

“Please don’t hang up.”

The line goes silent and you think he has hung up, that you didn’t say it fast enough or he just didn’t care, but then he speaks.

“Would you rather I sneak you in my house or walk in through the front door?”

“…What are the pros and cons?”

“Well, getting in the front door is easiest, but then you risk seeing my parents and my Dad won’t have questions, but Rose will, and I never want to answer her questions anyway.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“She is. Sneaking you in is harder, but then we avoid conversations, but if we get caught, conversations will probably be worse. Might become a whole lecture.”

“They’d lecture you for taking in a girl who needs help?”

“Rose would.”

He keeps talking the entire way to your house, his voice speaking in low tones as you gather up the things you need to spend an indefinite amount of time away from home.

He eventually does hang up when he arrives, so you turn your attention to prying your window open and climbing out of it.

You can barely get it wedged open enough to fit through, so you toss your bag through first and shout a quick “over here!” before beginning to crawl through.

You hear footsteps slow to a stop in front of you. “You know, usually when this scenario happens, you’re facing the other way around.”

You swat at his leg. “You’re disgusting. And I’m not stuck. You just arrived at an in-opportune moment.”

He curls a hand under the window and pulls up, making the gap wider. At the sudden release of tension you yelp, tumbling out of the window.

“You’re such a mess.”

“You didn’t warn me!”

He helps you to your feet and leads you to his car, the hand on your waist keeping you distracted from the wreckage behind you.

—

You do decide in the end to just walk in the front door, because you’re cold and wet and tired.

Ward does wake up and meets you at the staircase (you’re pretending not to notice the sheer opulence of the house) looking rumpled and confused.

“Who’s this?” The man asks, gesturing your rather pathetic looking form.

“My girlfriend,” Rafe says smoothly, “Branch fell on her roof. Place is a mess.”

You wave hello. “Sorry for waking you, Mr. Cameron.”

His gaze flicks to you for a second, then back to Rafe.

“Girlfriend?” His tone sounds… off. “How long has this been a thing?”

Rafe shifts, squaring his shoulders and stepping a little more in front of you. “A little while.”

Ward hums again, eyes flitting to you, taking in your appearance.

“Make sure you get the first aid kit. That head wounds looks nasty.”

Rafe nods. “We got it. Thanks, Dad.”

Ward just dips his head once, then steps back into the bedroom.

You let out a long sigh, pressing a hand to your chest.

“I thought he was going to throw me out.”

“He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

You snort. “Yes, yes, you’re a big strong man. Can we attend to my wounds now? And get some dry clothes?”

Cleaning your wound doesn’t take long, mostly because your head is the only one that really needs cleaning. The rest is taken care of in the shower. The most luxurious and amazing shower of your life. Seriously. You didn’t even know showers could be this relaxing.

The warm water soothes your aching muscles, and Rafe has weirdly good taste in bodywash.

He’d left you a change of clothes and a spare towel even though you said you brought your own.

You change into his anyway.

They’re more comfortable. Better quality than your ratty pajamas.

Your underwear is a different matter. Your dresser is old and broken —as most things in your house are— and the drawer you picked to store your underwear in doesn’t close all the way. This normally isn’t an issue, but when your roof is suddenly no longer attached, it means the a good portion of your underwear got soaked and muddy.

Except the ones at the bottom of the drawer. So the only underwear you had to bring to Rafe’s that was clean and dry is the tiny, lacy stuff you bought from Victoria’s secret and only wear when you’ve taken an everything shower and need a little pick-me-up. When you want to feel like a hot piece of ass. Girl things.

So you look at yourself in the mirror, clad in your own tank top (it’s actually warm enough in his house to wear a tank top to bed) and a pair of his pajama pants, the draw-string pulled tight, the fabric sagging low on your hips, showing off a thin little strip of lace.

Your face flushes. You look like his girlfriend. Dressed in his clothes, lacy underwear peaking through, skin freshly washed and smelling of his body wash.

When you step out of his bathroom, old clothes clutched in your hand, he stills.

He sits back on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his elbows as you slowly saunter over, steps quiet.

His eyes flick down to the lace, pauses on the sight, then back up to your face.

The air is charged, thick with tension.

You pull away from it, tossing your clothes in your backpack and ignoring the heat of his gaze on your back.

“Come over here.”

You straighten, hands behind your back as you walk to him.

“Closer.”

You step forward, now standing between his legs.

His hands come up to the back of your thighs, tightening, before moving to your hips. His thumbs ghost over the edge of the lace, and he rumbles something deep in the back of his throat.

“I like these.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.”

He presses his face forward, pushing your tank top up with his nose pressing his lips to the now exposed skin of your stomach.

You gasp, then feel him smile against you. He tugs you closer, face pressed to you and hands gripping your sides, just above the edge of your ribcage.

Tentatively, you reach a hand down, sliding from the top his head, down the side of his face, then slowing to a stop at his jaw, pushing your palm up. His head lifts, his eyes a little glassy, chin resting on your stomach.

“You introduced me as your girlfriend.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

“I am?”

You stroke a thumb over his face, sweeping over his cheekbone and under his eye. He leans into the touch, pliant.

“You think I let just any girl in here? You think I give any girl my clothes?”

“Yes?”

“Come on, baby. We’ve been over this.”

He presses another kiss to your stomach, mouth hot and lips firm.

He lifts his head up again. “You can make me yours anytime you want. Just say the word.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, words barely even a breath.

“Mm,” He hums, hands running up and down your sides. “You think too much.”

You pause for a few moments, taking everything in.

You grab his hand, leave it palm side up in front of you, then reach into your pocket and drop something into it.

The ring. His ring.

He stares at it for a beat, then closes his hand around it, slipping it back onto his finger.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He grins.

Your drop your hands around his neck and he moves his hands to the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his middle.

He doesn’t waste any time kissing you. It’s hot and full at first, a roaring flame licking in both your chests, like he’s been holding himself back all this time and finally let it all out. He pushes up into you, and the kiss deepens before it mellows out, slowing down to a few cracking embers.

He pulls back, your noses brushing. “Been wanting to do that since the fucking bookstore.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. You were wearing those cute little pants and you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Wanted to have you right there.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Mm. Only when it comes to you.”

You fall into each other again, and again, and again.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“I really like you in lace.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

[rafesangelita]

♡ first encounter with sheriff!rafe

warnings: implied age gap (a pretty big one pls scroll if it’s not your thing), arguing, slut shaming, descriptions of mild injuries, excessive use of force, tending to wounds, flirty banter, rafe defends you, very slight fluff, mild humor, kissing

a/n: read more fics with sheriff!rafe here <3

wc: 2.1k

rafe couldn’t wait to get home already. after a long day of bullshit patrolling and knocking out a stack of paperwork as high as his waist, all he could think about was cracking open a cold beer and searing a steak for dinner while he watched football highlights on his poor excuse of a tv. he lived a relatively quiet life. having been the head deputy of his department for the last decade, everyone in town knew who he was and vice versa.

the town was so small, there really wasn’t any room for crime to actually take place. the line never rang for anything else except a few noise complaints, petty theft, and drunken fights breaking out at the local bar. there was nothing profoundly exciting about his job, or life for that matter; until one fated night sheriff thornton was dragging you into the station. you were cussing at topper, calling him every name in the book as he basically threw you into a holding cell.

you yelped, glaring at topper from under your lashes. “fuck you! you have the dumbest haircut i’ve ever seen, asshole!” rafe lifted his head once he heard the commotion, his eyes finding you in an instant. topper snorted, leaning down so he was in your face. “yeah? well you’re the one in high heels and knee high socks with your tits hanging out, you’re the sluttiest thing i’ve seen since i first got my hands on a playboy magazine.” he scoffed, walking off before you could rebuttal.

rafe heard every single word that topper told you, his chest growing hot as he shook his head. although he didn’t know what you were arrested for, he didn’t think anyone, let alone topper, had the right to tell you any of those things. as soon as topper was out of sight, rafe watched the way you looked down at your lap, a small pout forming on your lips as you felt exposed. you wore a mini skirt and tube top thinking you’d be spending your night at a party, not in a fucking sheriff station.

your arms were scratched up from when topper had you pinned down in the rubble just outside of the abandoned house where jj maybank’s kegger took place. he had a knee pressing down into your back and you still manged to slip out from under him, his grip on your shirt finally giving him the opportunity to cuff your wrists. you scanned the room, everyone’s eyes practically glued to your nearly naked form. rafe included.

he watched you shudder, cursing under his breath once he realized he couldn’t stand to look at you for another second without doing something. “thornton.” rafe got up from his seat, motioning towards his office. “what is she in here for?” topper glanced over at you, a laugh falling from his lips. “resisting arrest, and assault to a police officer.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in confusion as he gave topper a once over. “assault on an officer? you look fine to me.”

“oh, not me, ‘kelce is the one with the icepack on his cheek.” rafe looked past the sheriff in front of him, an amused smile gracing his lips once he saw kelce walk out of the back with a bag full of ice. “send her in here.” was all he said before taking a seat behind his desk. rafe gritted his teeth when he saw the way topper yanked you up like rag doll, the force making you trip over your feet. you pulled away from topper the second you got into rafe’s office, the man in front of you clenching his fists at his sides. “shut the door.”

you stood there until you heard the click of the lock, your cheeks heating once you saw rafe’s eyes raking down your figure. “what happened to your arms?” he walked over and closed the blinds before taking the master key from his belt loop. “ask sheriff thornton.” you scoffed. rafe grumbled something under his breath before he moved the chair out in the corner of the room for you to sit. “if i uncuff you are you going to slug me like poor kelce out there?”

the corner of rafe’s lips twitched when he heard your laugh, the sound making something stir in his chest. “if you don’t give me shit about my outfit, no.” rafe nodded, deciding you were pretty much harmless against him if you decided to act out again. “speaking of that..” rafe unlocked the cuffs, stepping away from you so he could grab the large leather jacket that hung on the back of his chair. “i’m gonna turn around so you could fix yourself up a little bit.”

you blinked, looking around even though you two were concealed from everyone’s view. pulling up the neck line of your top, you quickly fixed your skirt so the soft curves of your ass weren’t peeking out from under the hem anymore. “you done?” you hummed, accepting the comically large jacket he draped over your shoulders. “i’m gonna ask you a few questions, you alright with that?” you stayed silent, only nodding as he took out a notepad and pen.

“do you have any kind of identification on you? a state id, maybe a driver’s license?” rafe’s voice was rather calm, a stark contrast to the two idiots who yelled at you the whole ride over here. “i did, but i dropped my purse and they didn’t let me get it back. i think my best friend has it right now.” rafe scribbled down ‘dumb and dumber’ on his piece of paper, officially adding them to his shit list. “okay then, can i get your full name please?”

you obliged, taking off your heels and your socks in the process. rafe didn’t bat an eye when his gaze trailed down your bare legs. however, he froze once he heard your last name. there was only one person with that name, and him and that person go way, way back. “was your dad a football star in highschool?” you rolled your eyes at the reminder. “ugh, yes, that’s all he ever talks about.. his ‘golden days’” you stood up, crossing your arms over your chest as you inspected all the certificates and awards framed on the walls.

“oh, man, me and him played together! i always thought he would go off to university or something, he was just amazing out on that field.” rafe marveled, his mind flooding with old memories of celebrating championships and chugging beers at a random ranch parties. “nope. he met my mommy, fell in love, and i was here in no time.” rafe hummed, inspecting you closely. “so how old are you, y/n?” you swallowed thickly, sparing him a glance. “old enough.”

“old enough to drink?” he shot back, making you groan. “if you’re going to charge me and call my dad then just do it, i don’t need the lecture.” you sat down again, this time wincing when your elbows hit the arm rest of the chair. rafe hated how much his partners roughed you up, he knew it wasn’t right. sighing through his nose, rafe pulled out his first aid kit before motioning you to come over. “take a seat right here.” he patted the empty spot on the hardwood of his desk, helping you climb up before sitting between your thighs.

despite the position being really compromising, you didn’t feel unsafe having him this close. “i’m not going to charge you, and i don’t want you to get in trouble with your old man, so i’m gonna propose a deal and whether you decide to take it or not, that’ll determine how this night ends.” he opened up an alcohol wipe before taking your arm and gliding the small towelette over your wounded skin. “i’m listening..” you trailed off, studying his facial features.

“you take a vow; right here, right now, that you’ll never leave the house again in this skirt and i’ll also drop the assault charge against my officer.” you laughed, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you spread your thighs further apart. rafe’s jaw clenched, his resolve and restraint holding on by a thread. “how come? you don’t like it?” you feigned a sad expression, leaning back on your hands. rafe cursed when the material of your red, lacey thong peeked out, his eyes flickering up to meet your own.

“no, i like it a lot, actually,” he swallowed thickly, “which is exactly why it’s not a good idea to wear it.” your breath shuddered when you felt his hand softly skim your flesh. “okay, deal—” there was a knock at the door, both you and rafe pulling away from each other as if you two were doing something you weren’t supposed to, and in a way you guessed you were. you scrambled to the chair as rafe cleared his throat awkwardly. “yes?” he opened the door, in walking kelce as he threw daggers at you.

“i got the paperwork for this one to be processed. ‘let this be a learning experience that you can’t just punch cops in the face.” he threw down the hefty stack of papers, a smile playing on your lips as rafe grabbed your socks and heels from the floor. “well, you have to be quicker than that next time. i’m escorting her home.” kelce reeled back, his eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “what?!” rafe rose a hand before leading you out of the room by the small of your back.

“if you and thornton ever do so much as raise your voice or lay an ungentle hand on her again, you’ll both be suspended without pay. understood?” kelce narrowed his gaze, meeting your smug grin before giving rafe a curt nod. “yes, sir.” you winked at him before rafe walked you outside and opened the door to his cruiser. without a word, rafe turned on his radio and rolled the windows down before driving to the address you gave him.

so there you were, your feet in your new favorite sheriff’s lap, the wind blowing wildly through your hair as his favorite track blasted through the speakers. you felt something in you switch when you studied his side profile. sheriff cameron was all man. small waist, broad shoulders, deliciously huge biceps, he was it. instinctively, you rubbed your heel over his groin, his jaw clenching as he stopped you, wrapping a rough hand around your ankle.

“i have no ulterior motives with you. don’t feel inclined.” you smiled. of course he didn’t. just as you were going to keep up your ministrations, you saw your house coming up in the distance, your heart sinking at the sight. you didn’t want to go home yet. “well, this is you.” he sighed, rolling up just out front. rolling your eyes, you sat up straight, crossing your arms over your chest. “thank you.” rafe looked over at you, his eyes scanning over your form.

“you’re welcome.” god, the air was thick with tension. “so, uhm—” you cut him off, pressing a kiss to his lips before you could think, the coarse hair of his mustache tickling your nose. rafe was stunned, his grip tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. you tasted like cherries that were picked in the summertime, a groan rumbling from his chest before he gave in, pulling you from the passenger seat and onto his lap.

laying your hands flat on his chest, you leaned back slightly, allowing him to plant his large palms in the curves of your hips. both of you jumped when the honk sounded, a laugh bursting from your throat when you saw his eyes grow wide. “you’re gonna get us in trouble!” he scolded, basically tossing you back in the seat next to him. you were full on giggling now, pointing a red painted fingernail at him. “look at your face!” you tossed your head back, the tips of his ears flustered with a deep shade of pink.

“your old man can wake up and come out here!” he whispered. “and do what? call the cops?” he stared at you for a moment, resisting the urge to break out into a smile. deciding you better head upstairs before your father gets up to check on the ruckus outside, you hooked your heels between your fingers, adjusting the huge jacket that currently swallowed your frame. “i wanna see you again.” you blurted out, the porch light flickering on. “i do too,” rafe agreed, “but i don’t know when i can—”

you waved him off, running up the porch stairs before your father could come outside. “i have your jacket, so it looks like we have to meet up again anyways!” rafe caught your drift, wasting no time in peeling off onto the dirt road, his heart pounding with adrenaline. what the hell just happened? an hour ago he was bored out of his mind, wanting nothing more than to get home, and now he couldn’t wait for it to be the next day so he could get you back in his car.

[fear-is-truth]

mdni 18+

rafe cameron is a tease, and not the kind that makes it fun. he revels in making you suffer. gets off on the sight of you writhing in his lap, grinding down on the thick, hard press of him, but he won’t give you what you want—not yet. instead, he lounges back, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth curling into a mean leer. “what, baby? need somethin’?” his fingers find your jaw, thumb pressing into the soft hinge of it, tilting your face up. restraint strung so thin and tight it’s a miracle he hasn’t snapped. “c’mon,” he coos, voice coaxing, filthy in its sweetness. “be a good girl. ask me real nice.”

rafe cameron is violent. not to you, never to you, but all that rage, just looking for an excuse—a fist connecting with a jaw, followed by the sickening crack of cartilage giving way. and you should stop him, because it’s the decent thing to do—but all you can feel is the slow coil of heat licking up the base of your spine, thighs clenching together involuntarily. and later, rafe’s hands are still shaking, but they’re on you now, and that’s all that matters. “you like that, huh? bet you were fucking soaking for it.” because of course he fucking knows. he clocked it the second he threw that first punch—the look on your face, not horror, not even disgust (which would’ve been justified), but with something else. fascination. “god, you’re sick, baby,” he croons, pressing his thigh between yours, forcing a slow, grinding friction that has you biting back a moan. “good thing i am too.”

rafe cameron is prone to jealousy. it is an ugly thing. and it doesn’t take much. if another guy so much as looks at you the wrong way and rafe sees it, he doesn’t bother pretending he’s not pissed. “you think i didn’t notice that? you fuckin’ smiling at him?” his voice is bitten-off, like the thought itself physically pains him. and maybe it does. maybe that’s why he’s panting, pupils blown wide, hands shaking as they yank your thighs apart, forces you to feel the way he’s still twitching with it. he makes you redeem yourself. has you choking on his name like it’s your only salvation, again and again and again, repentance. until he’s inside you in every sense that matters—body, mind, and soul.

rafe cameron is clingy, and that’s the real kicker. when you’re spent, raw, leaking his cum between your thighs, he doesn’t let you go. won’t let you go. arms cinch around your waist like a vice, his skin is searing hot where it presses to yours, even as the sweat cools and your body shakes with the aftermath. even then, he’s still latched on, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

[rafesweetie]

say it to his face. (toxic!ex!rafe)

rafe’s not a very respectful ex. in his defence, seeing you in that little dress triggered him. it had been a while since he’d seen you, let alone those pretty thighs, and he didn’t know how to contain himself. he had bought you that dress, after all.

rafe’s eyebrows furrow from the pool table when he sees you finding another boy at the party. so you’re wearing a dress that rafe bought you while hugging your newest boy toy. it’s almost sad, he thinks, so certain it mean you must still want him.

so, arrogantly, he walks over. “shiiit, y/n, looking good,” he smiles, his hand on your shoulder from beside you so you look over — he always taught you to keep eye contact when he spoke.

you whisper something to your date, a little explanation as to who the hell this was. rafe snaps his fingers in your face when he sees the side conversation and obvious annoyed expression on your face. “hey, hey, what’s going on, huh?”

“rafe, please stop,” you sigh.

“nah nah nah, if you, uh, if you wanna say something about me to your pathetic guy, say it to my face,” he insists, bending his knees a bit to get to your level. “say it to my fuckin face,”

he starts slapping his defined cheekbone with his hand, condescendingly reiterating his former request. “stop it,” you insist. he leans his face in closer.

“and what if i don’t?” he asks, and when you don’t provide an answer, instead just rolling your eyes, he continues. “i just wanna know what you said, baby, don’t be stubborn,”

“i said you were my stupid ex and i apologized to my date for your immaturity,” you say honestly. he stands to his full height once more

“immature?” he repeats, scoffing at the blow to his ego. “yeah, does this guy run his own business? does this guy pay for his own house in figure eight, or do his parents still take care of him? does he even know what fuckin’ aftercare is? cause i sure do, baby, you know that—“

“rafe, stop!” you raise your voice, even though this is the third time you’ve told him to stop and he hasn’t yet.

he scoffs. “no, you stop. call me immature again, dare you,” his face moves over as if he wants you to whisper in his ear.

“you are,” you repeat.

“uuhhh huh,” he nods, as if in thought. “look, i moved houses, i don’t live in tannyhill anymore. here’s my card, has my number. call me and ill send you the address tonight, i’m going home and i’m gonna insist i see you there later,”

“rafe!—“ you start, glancing at your date.

“no, don’t start. don’t say shit. see you there,” he leaves, and in return leaves you standing beside your date, watching him go.

you hate yourself for dialling his number the minute your date is out of sight. you’re in the dress he bought you, for gods sake — you’re never getting rid of him.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

[lolasangelz]

im just a girl who loves frat rafe, nerd rafe, soft rafe, baby daddy rafe, husband rafe, toxic rafe, ex rafe, druggie rafe, needs a hug rafe, imprisoned rafe, season one rafe, season two rafe, season three rafe, season four rafe, i will love season five rafe, rafe, rafe cameron, kelce and toppers bestfriend rafe, golfer rafe, abusive rafe, sweetheart rafe, college rafe, ghostface rafe, serial killer rafe, rafe in season two with that sexy ass hat on when hiding from the police in the boat with barry, rafe in a grey north face jacket, enemy rafe, wards least favourite child, sarah and wheezies older brother, kook king rafe, highschool lovers rafe, rafe…. did i mention rafe cameron from obx?

[zyafics]

can you write about rafe x sarahs bestfriend and reader keeps trying to get with rafe and he rejects her until he finally agrees and teases her around Sarah making reader nervous .. if you find a story like this LMK

truly didn't expect to write today, but ended up doing... this. hope you like it!

SOMEONE NEW | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing — Rafe x Sarah's BSF!Female Reader

Content — best friend's brother, fluff, she falls first/he falls harder

Word Count — 1.1K

Song — Someone New by Hozier

“What gives?”

Rafe surprises you. Sitting on a barstool at the Tannyhill estate, you assumed when Rafe returned home, he would ignore you the way he had done all his life. For the past couple of years, you’ve harbored an embarrassing crush on him that amounted to nothing. Sure, you never outright confessed, but you assumed he knew.

He had to.

The way you always strike up a flimsy conversation during late nights in the kitchen from your sleepovers with Sarah. The way you would always try to convince Sarah to join him and his friends at parties—only to be rejected of an invitation. The way you would always search for him to fill your cup, or take you home, whenever you and the Camerons end up at the same function.

You never told him but the signs were there.

Yet, nothing happened.

After spending a summer in the Bahamas, you decided it was time to put yourself first. You changed the way you dressed, the way you style your hair, the way you put on your makeup. It wasn’t for him, it wasn’t to impress him—it was for you. A new version deserved a new update, a new way to love, and you’re pulling out all the stops.

Now, back in Kildare, you’ve resumed your presence at the Tannyhill estate. Sarah invited you over for a sleepover, but she’s currently out getting some of the snacks. Leaving you to your own device, in her house, with the return of her brother.

Whom you didn’t even realize came home.

It fucks with him.

Because he’s used to you, his little sister’s best friend, always gawking at him from across the room. Always fetching him a beer from the fridge, or blushing whenever he comes into your proximity. Neither of that has happened since your return and Rafe can’t lie and say the loss of attention hasn’t bruised his ego.

But it’s something else. Something magnetizing about the air around you. He doesn’t know if it’s the change in styles or the sudden wave of confidence you’re exuding, but it’s different, and it’s intriguing him like never before.

“What?” You ask, lips parting and releasing the chewed-up plastic straw you were sipping on. His gaze drops to the fullness of your wetted lips, the new shade of lipgloss making them appear more delicious than ever before. His heart slightly patters—what the fuck? He thinks to himself. What is going on with me?

“What’s going on with you?” He asks, and your brows pull together. They’re shaped, manicured, threaded, the way he likes his women. But what remains is that subtle dip between your brows, that boasts the look of innocence from your features, reminding him of the same naivety and shy-natured he always adored.

“What do you mean?” You say with a quiet laugh.

“You’re different,” he observes, his eyes tracing the openness of your clothes. You’re wearing a stylistic top, one revealing your navel, and a piercing on your belly button. When the fuck did you get that?

You tilt your head to the side, your doe-shaped eyes blinking at him with pure curiosity. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he admits. You shrink under this proclamation, shoulders tightening, your legs crossing on the barstool, revealing the pretty anklet on your feet, dangling, in a way that makes him imagine what they would look like over his shoulders.

You frown, jutting out your bottom lip, and looking to the floor. “I’m sorry,” you apologize quietly.

“Not—” He pulls back, trying to find the right words. “Not in a bad way. You’re not… you.”

You blink up at him, “Like what?”

You don’t look for me anymore, he concludes, but he finds it pathetic to say. Instead, he settles with: “You’re just different.”

You scrunch your nose at his words, the way they wrinkle, it’s so adorable, he wants to cherish that sight. Rafe finds the courage to ask, “And you’re quiet. You always wanted to talk to me; did some other asshole catch your attention in the Bahamas?”

“Why do you assume they’re an asshole?”

“Most men are,”

“You included?” You ask, tilting your chin to look at him in a sort of challenge.

“Yeah,” he admits after a long silence. “I’m the worst kind.”

It makes you laugh again. In that same carefree, airy laugh that comes with ease. Something about that simple sound unwinds his shoulders, and Rafe takes in the moment as if he can stretch it on for an eternity. Fuck, he thought. What is it?

“What’s so funny?” Rafe asks, his throat suddenly dry. He needs a glass of water, but it’ll be hell before he tries to move from this spot.

“Nothing,” you say with a soft smile, “Just… Self-awareness is always a good first step.”

“So you think I’m an asshole?” He asks, stepping closer. His leg knocks at your feet, causing you to shift your position in a way that accommodates him. You still do that, Rafe recognizes, you’re still making room for him.

Good.

You bobble your head in contemplation, “I don’t think it’s a lie,”

“I can be better,” Rafe declares.

“Sure,” you drawl, unconvinced.

“I’ll be better for you,”

The words came tumbling out without a second thought, and all the presence of air is stolen from your lungs. Your eyes widen into this impossible size, filled with such valiant shock, that you’ve never demonstrated before. He almost wishes he can take back his confession.

But Sarah returns, coming into the room to break the tense air.

“Leave her alone, Rafe,” Sarah snaps, dropping two plastic bags of snacks onto the kitchen island. “Don’t you have some whore to entertain?”

Rafe drops his jaw playfully. “Don’t call your best friend that.”

”I—“ Sarah reddens from the accusation, sliding her gaze apologetically to you, but you laugh it off, gently pushing Rafe’s shoulder, and forcing a gap between you.

He hates it.

“I know,” you answer, smiling at your best friend and shaking your head softly. “He’s being an asshole."

You cut a look over to Rafe with a knowing smile like you’re sharing an inside joke, before returning your attention to your best friend. Rafe had half a mind to grab your chin and force your focus back on him—the other Cameron. “Do you need help carrying anything?”

“Nope,” Sarah shakes her head, grabbing the bags with one hand and using her other one to grab yours. “Let’s go.”

You beam, radiating the same contagious joy as before, but with a new set of layers that Rafe wants to strip down and uncover. Sarah pushes him to the side and moves to the stairs, and as you’re dragged up the steps, you do something you’ve never done before.

You don’t look back.

And in that moment, he realizes, fuck, he might’ve liked you more than he was willing to admit.

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[rafesbabygirlx]

Rafe fucks his secret girlfriend in the pool. Sarah’s best friend. Up to you if they get caught or not

THIS IS SO GOOD 😫

𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚋𝚏!𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜:𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 (𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕-𝚏, 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚟)

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The house was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had filled it just hours ago. Empty cups littered the floor, the scent of spilled beer and typical frat boy kook cologne lingered in the air. You glanced over at Sarah, who was sprawled across the bed, face buried in the pillow, completely out cold. You, Sarah, Rafe, and Topper all decided to stay the night at Kelce’s afterwards.

Your phone vibrated against your thigh.

Rafe 3:05am - I think everyone’s down out here, what about Sarah?

You smirked, fingers moving quickly over the screen.

You 3:06am - She’s out.

A moment later, your phone buzzed again.

Rafe 3:07am - Good. Put on that bikini I got you. ;)

Your stomach flipped. Even after months of sneaking around, the thrill of it hadn’t faded. You glanced at Sarah one more time, making sure she wasn’t stirring, then quietly slipped out of bed.

The floor was cold beneath your bare feet as you padded over to your bag, pulling out the bikini Rafe had insisted on buying you last week. It was tiny—blue, his favorite color on you. You changed quickly, shivering slightly as the night air seeped through the open window.

Another text.

Rafe 3:10am - Meet me by the pool.

You bit your lip, excitement buzzing in your veins. Slowly, you cracked the door open, peeking into the dimly lit hallway. Silence. Carefully, you stepped out, shutting the door softly behind you before making your way downstairs.

The backyard was illuminated by the glow of the pool lights, casting an ethereal blue across the patio. Rafe stood at the edge, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, watching the water ripple lazily. When he heard you approaching, he turned. His eyes raked over you, darkening as they settled on the bikini.

“Damn,” he muttered, a slow smirk creeping onto his lips. “Knew it’d look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “Shut up.”

Rafe stepped forward, hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His touch was warm against your cool skin. “What?” he murmured, voice teasing as he ducked his head to brush his lips against your ear. “You embarrassed? ‘Cause you shouldn’t be.”

Your breath hitched, hands gripping his hoodie and despite your words, you unzip and pull it off his shoulders. “We’re gonna get caught.”

He chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “Not if you keep quiet.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he was lifting you effortlessly, making you squeal as he carried you to the edge of the pool.

“Rafe—no, don’t you dare—”

Too late. He stepped off the ledge, taking you down with him. The water was a shock against your skin, cool but refreshing. You surfaced with a gasp, pushing your soaked hair from your face, only to be met with Rafe’s smug grin.

“You’re the worst,” you huffed, splashing water at him.

He laughed, moving closer, caging you in against the pool wall. “And yet, here you are.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. He leaned in slowly, testing, waiting. And when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance, lips meeting yours in a slow, heated kiss.

Rafe deepened the kiss, running his tongue across your lip as you allow him access to your mouth. His hands rub up and down your body, feeling every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in even closer.

Without missing a beat, Rafe grips your waist and lifting you into the edge of the pool. He stands in between your legs, eyes locked onto yours as he caresses your thighs. Slowly, he moves closer to your core. His thumb massages your clit through the bottoms of your bikini. You throw your head back and bite your lip, trying to stifle your moan.

Rafe moves them to the side, his thumb is now flush on your bare clip and his other hand motions you to move closer to the edge. Once you do, he has perfect access and replaces his thumb with his tongue. This makes you unintentionally let out a loud moan.

“Gotta be quiet baby,” Rafe says as he smirks up at you.

He dives back in, switching between sucking and using his tongue. You grip his hair to stable yourself. He moves his tongue with perfected precision. He knows exactly what you like and where to touch. Your breathing begins to get heavy and you feel yourself getting close. Rafe noticed too by the way you try to clamps your thighs around his head. He uses his hands to forcefully hold them open.

With a few more flicks of his tongue, you come all over it. He laps up every little bit of your orgasm. You both catch your breath and you slip back into the water in the same position you were before by wrapping your legs around his waist.

Once you do, you notice how hare he got just from eating you out.

“Want some help with that?” Your voice drips with sultry desire.

Your hands move beneath the water. Once they’re back up, Rafe’s eyes widen as he realized you untied your bottoms. You drop them onto the waters surface and they float away from the both of you. Rafe pulls down his swim shorts and you waste no time slowly sinking onto him.

Rafe pushes you back up against the side of the pool and you lean in it with your elbows for support as he grabs your thighs pulling you towards him as he pushes into you.

Using both of your bodies he tucks into you at a rapid pace you didn’t think was possible under water. All the air has left your lungs from the feeling. The only sounds are the sloshing water, your light moans and Rafe’s deep pants.

You’re such a good girl for me,” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction.

You swallowed hard, your mind hazy, completely lost in the way he was fucking you. Your lips parted, but no words came out—just a shaky breath, your body betraying you.

Rafe smirked. “What’s the matter, huh?” His fingers traced slow, teasing circles along your thighs he was holding. “Can’t talk?”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, frustration bubbling up at how easily he unraveled you. You forced yourself to say something, but your voice came out soft, barely above a whisper.

“Rafe…”

His grip tightened just slightly, like he loved hearing you struggle. “C’mon, baby, you can do better than that.”

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head back against the tile, trying to steady yourself. “I—I’m your good girl.”

His eyes darkened, a slow grin spreading across his face. “That’s right,” he murmured, brushing his lips against yours but not quite kissing you. “And don’t forget it.”

It only took a few more strokes for you to reach another high. Rafe continued to fuck you through it as he finally reached his own, spilling deep into you. He pulled out and brought you into his chest. Holding you tightly. You looked up at him and he leaned forward kissing you.

You were disrupted when a noise came from behind you. You spun around in the water and Rafe backed away slightly. It was Sarah.

“What the fuck is going on?” Sarah slurred

“Sar… I can explain,” you spoke to her, worry flooding your tone.

“I don’t know if I’m dreaming or I’m just still too drunk, but it’s about fucking time… g-goodnight.”

Sarah stumbled back inside, leaving you shocked but relieved, but confused because of how drunk she still was. Rafe started laughing moving back to you. His amusement, made you laugh a little too.

“Guess the secrets out.”

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[fee224]

Bad days

Rafe cameron x overlooked!reader

Rafe had left you in the morning with a kiss on your forehead as you slept peacefully in his bed. He slipped out of the house hours before you woke up.

It was noon before he responded to your texts and that wouldn’t have upset you so much if you weren’t having such a terrible day.

You woke up still exhausted, forcing yourself to stay up late last night to finish an college assignment the night before.

Downstairs in the kitchen all of your favourite cereals were gone and the milk was two days past the expiration date, how was that even possible!!

But all of that, you took in your stride. It was when you arrived at your family home to see your mother, and all of your sisters were already there. Catching up over tea, their secret brunch resulted in you running home and crying like a little girl. No invitation, not even a mention when you called your parents last night.

But as the day continued, and rafe responded with a tiny text, late, after not texting you all day, you felt all the more defeated.

8:32 morning ray

9:11 just going to my house right now, I’ll be back before noon I think

10:03 on my way home.

10:41 how’s work going? Are you busy today?

2:02 sorry baby, so busy at the office today. Talk when I get home?

2:03 course, sorry

So you sat on his bed, numb, wishing this day would be over desperately, tucking yourself into bed and patting the sheet around you. Laying for hours, unable to fall asleep for once in your life. Staring at the same lamp on his bedside table, waiting for the sun to go down and return back up, then you were sure you would feel better.

You did hear the door open and shut downstairs, and his calls, but you didn’t answer or make a single move at all. Instead you stayed in bed, still staring at the same lamp.

His voice quietened when he saw your seemingly asleep face under the duvet, stripping down his clothes and going into the bathroom. You heard the shower run, lamp. You heard him dry himself with a towel, lamp. You heard him get into bed next to you, lamp.

You didn’t want to talk, have to admit that your family didn’t invite you when they wouldn’t of had to go out of their way too.

His arm brought you closer into him, spooning you. You didn’t know when you began to cry, you didn’t even realised you were until rafes thumb was wiping them away, still behind you.

“Somethin’ happen?” You sniffed before you spoke, rafe had told you he had a busy day, he didn’t need this, he must’ve been tired, let him sleep.

“Mhm” you sniffed once more, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“Somethin’ to do with your parents?” You didn’t answer, didn’t have to, he always knew. You just turned around, nestling in closer to his warm body. He also knew you didn’t wanna talk.

“You’re okay with me” his face was holding your face with both hands. Slowly pressing long kisses on your cheek, forehead and nose as you shut your eyes. Worries leaving your body and sleep dawning. “Always okay with me”

“Love you rafe” you mumbled wearily.

“I love you too” his hands detaching from your face, holding onto your waist. “Night dolly” sleep leaving his eyes shut too.

- fee xxx

[kissylec]

LOVE YOU GOODBYE — rafe cameron, 03

pairing . . . rafe cameron x pogue!reader in which . . . being a secret is hard, and even more when prince kook himself is the one hiding you. a bittersweet wheel of emotions comes to you when you decide to put an end to a situationship that is hurting you, not taking into account how difficult it would be to get away from the oldest of the cameron siblings. ch warning .ᐟ . . . curse words, rafe being THE BIGGEST ASS on earth (be aware)

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

LOVE YOU GOODBYE. — 02 . 03 . 04

kissylec says . . . last chapter of the day my ma'ams, honestly, you guys are so so sweet, and i feel super welcomed, thanks for doing this so special i wuv you 😝💐

taglist . . . @lil-sparklqueen @pillowprincess4him @ihydeja @drewstarkeyslover @angelicameron @stylestarkey

© kissylec. please do not plagiarize, repost, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐣 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— kook or pogue; doesn’t matter, simply your sweet boyfriend, jj

rating: sfw — cw: slightly suggestive

— boyfriend jj who… insists on physically lifting you into and out of the boat every time, or at the very least holding your hands. the one time you leapt out when his back was turned, you lost your footing and almost tumbled into the water, to which jj was very displeased: “alright, nope, see, that’s why we don’t do that.”

— boyfriend jj who… thinks you’re the funniest person on the planet — the way he cackles at every joke you tell makes you question if it’s forced, or exaggerated at the least, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. your humor matches his so perfectly that everything you say or do he only wishes he would have thought of first. the two of you are constantly a nonstop giggling mess full of silly inside jokes and plain stupidity.

— boyfriend jj who… thrives off of long hugs with you; specifically when it feels more like you’re just holding him. hiding his face in your neck and breathing you in calms his nerves in a way that smoking weed never could.

— boyfriend jj who… is absolutely mesmerized by everything you do; whether that be your makeup (he thinks you’re the artist and the art), or simply steering the boat (the way the wind blows in your hair and the sun highlights each and every shade is unreal). he often finds himself completely zoned out of reality with soft blue eyes as he marvels in awe at everything that is you. he's often chewing the inside of his lip as he stares, quickly averting his gaze to his hands when you look his way, though it’s always so obvious.

— boyfriend jj who… loves when you come to watch him surf, though it’s stressful watching him disappear under the waves for what feels like minutes at a time. but, without fail, he always ends up running to you with a big, toothy smile as he wraps a cold, muscular arm around your waist, pressing wet, salty lips to yours as he beams with excitement: “babe, did you fuckin’ see that?!”

— boyfriend jj who… isn’t too good at saying ‘i love you’ but shows it in everything he does: plucking you random flowers (and weeds, though he doesn’t know that), fixing your top as you chat amongst friends, keeping a hair tie on his wrist because he just knows you’re going to need one, always keeping physical touch with you in some way (absentmindedly twirling your hair, resting your legs on his lap, holding your hand, leaning on your shoulder).

— boyfriend jj who… tries to contain his himself but is more than willing to get in a fight when it comes to you; whether it be one too many comments made about you in order to taunt him or another man’s hand lingering on yours for way too long, jj is quick to set things straight no matter who it puts him up against.

— boyfriend jj who… gets jealous very easily but tries his hardest to control it. before you started dating, he would simply avert his attention or walk away from any situation involving you and a guy, knowing he shouldn’t be jealous but he couldn’t help it. now that you’re officially his, his emotion is worn clearly on his face.

— boyfriend jj who… falls asleep virtually anywhere, as long as you were around. he hates it, obviously wanting to be awake when he’s with you, but the feeling of genuine comfort and safety you give him is nothing like he’d ever felt at home, or anywhere, so he often finds his head on your lap or shoulder, fighting a slumber.

— boyfriend jj who… likes to take off his cap and place it backwards on your head whenever you’re making out, always laughing into the kiss whenever it inevitably falls over your eyes.

— boyfriend jj who… noticed your awestruck reaction to once finding the ‘perfect’ seashell in the sand and now brings you the prettiest, shiniest, most perfect seashells he can find — no matter who it inconveniences: “dude, it’s been, like, twenty minutes! can’t we just buy one somewhere?” pope groaned. “yeah, let me get a fake i.d. and forge a check, too, since we’re frauds now,” jj scoffed.

— boyfriend jj who… has absolutely no filter so he often just says things that you then have to somehow answer for: “is your hair supposed to look like that?” he’d wonder aloud innocently. “jj!” you’d whisper before clearing your throat, “he just means did you have to use any product or-or anything or is it naturally so pretty?”

— boyfriend jj who… remembers all the little things about you, despite his forgetful and oblivious nature, often taking you by surprise when he mentions them: “nah, you won’t like that, s’got peanut butter in it.” or "wait, the same girl who kicked down your sandcastle in third grade? i hate that bitch. sorry, sorry, continue.”

— boyfriend jj who… let’s you fiddle with the numerous rings and bracelets adorning his hands whenever you want, knowing it’s a calming distraction whenever you’re anxious. often times, you’ll be sitting with his large hand on your lap, twisting and pulling at the metal around his fingers as he chatted amongst his friends, completely unfazed by your fidgeting — he’s used to (and loves) it.

— boyfriend jj who… carves the both of your initials into the trunks of numerous tree’s across the island, whether it’s one on the side of a busy street or in the depths of a secluded wood — he likes knowing that you’re etched permanently everywhere.

 personapeters 2025 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[cherrygirlfriend]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ rough day

pairing: rafe x bsf!reader synopsis: reader tries to initiate sex while upset. warnings/tags: smut, fluff a/n; part of my 1k celebration! prompt 36 from list b. decided to write it about bsf!reader!! also this is the last fic for my 1k celebration!!

rafe masterlist ♡ 1k masterlist

you collapse onto rafe's bed wearing one of his hoodies, the strings of the hood tugged so tightly that the hood was closed over your face, staring up at the ceiling with a miserable frown on your face. your best friend chuckled, the mattress under you dipping down from his weight when he laid down next to you with a dramatic sigh and a smirk playing at his lips on his face, "what crawled up your ass?" rafe asked, tracing the neckline of your hoodie, opening it up.

"i just had a rough day." you sighed exasperatedly, starting to press kisses on his tanned biceps, "just help me forget everything, please..." you mumbled into his warm skin, and looked up at him pleadingly. the man rolling his eyes at the small pout on your lips.

"if you insist."

you turned to lay on your back and tugged off the hoodie, throwing it somewhere on his floor, resting your arms behind your head as rafe started undoing the buttons on your blouse. when his lips made contact with your breast, you couldn't help but arch into his touch, your hands gripping the sheets.

rafe pressed a kiss on your nipple through your bralette, sucking it into his mouth through the fabric. you let out a whine, his fingers tracing down your torso. he popped open the button on your jeans, giving your hardened nipple a small nip, and your head was thrown back in ecstacy.

"yes..." you whined when rafe's hand slid into your jeans, teasing your clit over the lace of your panties. but you didn't realize that as moisture was gathering between your legs, your eyes seemed to be doing the same.

your lips turned down into a frown when he pulled back from you. "why'd you stop?" you asked in a small voice, making the boy shake his head, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as he pressed a small, featherlight kiss on your lips.

"i don't wanna take advantage of you when you're clearly feeling like shit. so, just tell me what's going on."

"you know," you sighed, pressing your pointer finger against his soft lips, "you're such a buzzkill. but fine, if you wanna talk about feelings instead of just fuck, then i guess we can do that."

"how about we talk about our feelings," rafe pressed another gentle kiss on your lips, "and then we fuck." he mumbled against your lips, his hand trailing downwards again.

[purpleplumpudding]

i’m gonna pass away that was tew good 💔💔 i’m gonna die this was life altering

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

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

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

link: mini series masterlist

wc: 1.8k

rafe hated you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

everyone left him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[10:01 PM] countryclub: wsp

[10:15 PM] brattydiaries: ew.

[10:16 PM] countryclub: ???

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

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

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

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

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

[10:30 PM] brattydiaries: can you?

[10:31 PM] countryclub: may i?

you smiled when he corrected himself.

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

[10:38 PM] countryclub: 1 attachment

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

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

your jaw was on the floor.

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

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

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

yeah. you were totally fucked.

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

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

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

what the fuck?

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

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

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

from him.

[1:00 AM] countryclub: hey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[totalswag]

Hi, Hope you are doing well ! :)

Can you do a famous #singer!reader where she just broke up with someone other minor celebrity that was using her 6 months ago. Another male famous celebrity comes to her concert, wanting to check her out and ends up dating her ? (The famous celebrity could be Drew Starkey, Austin Butler,etc.)

locking eyes for the first time ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note thank you for giving me this request. this was so much fun to write. i'm using feather by sabrina carpenter for the "revenge song." request are open again.

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

masterlist

summary after getting heartbroken by a guy you were talking to six months later you perform at your sold out show and meet drew starkey for the first time.

warning(s) betrayal, breakup, cursing, music, and dating drew starkey.

Six months ago.

You've been talking to this guy⎯he's been the spotlight for quite some time. You found out he was using you for more "fame" and recognition connections. This shattered your heart but confronted him about it⎯he denied it first then admitted at the very end before you kicked him out your house.

His dad is a producer in the music industry. You met at an after party one night and hit it off. He made you fall for him as if he casted a spell on you. He knew what he was doing the entire five months you were together.

"So all of this was a lie, Adam?" You ask, crossing your hands over your chest in disbelief⎯staring at him like he was trash sitting in front of you.

Adam runs his hands down his thighs, sighing, "Look, Y/N, I don't know where you got that information," he pauses looking around, "It's not true," his voice trying to come off convincing.

You scoff, sarcastically nodding, "oh okay, so, Josh, you, and the rest of the guys weren't hanging out and you didn't say you've been using me?" your voice raises, emphasizing using.

"Who told you that?" He questions you in an almost panicked tone. The look on his face said it all: he'd been caught. 

You nod, frustrated. "doesn't matter, is it true you've been using me?" Your voice rises, pointing at yourself.

"Yup," was all he could say.

You huff, "Dude, fuck you," chuckle, "Get out of my face and leave my house," and motion to the front door.

As the months continued to pass, you focused on yourself, surrounded yourself who those who bring you comfort, wrote music to let it all out on pen. You began to feel like yourself again.

Recently came out with a single for your music. This song is based on your experience with Adam. Let's be honest, he tried coming back with all these apologies to come back. You weren't having it.

You're on tour performing your new album and singing one of your popular songs⎯it's about what happened between Adam and you. Everyone knew about the breakup after they saw Adam with a new girl two weeks after.

The first show will be held at the Inglewood Forum. Tonight, your good friends are coming to support you. Madelyn, one of your good friends, will be joining with a few of her Outer Banks co-stars. You were taken aback by how many people were coming from your inner circle.

Madelyn mentioned one of her co stars, Drew Starkey, wanted to come see you perform after listening to your music. You've heard about him⎯good things.

After the show was over, you thanked your fans for coming out for the first show of tour, and cannot wait for the upcoming shows.

"Y/N, you did fantastic out there," Maddie grinned as you turned the corner where everyone else was waiting. 

"Thank you, mama; I'm glad you guys came to watch," you grin, moving away from Maddie and indicating to the rest of the cast. Drew Starkey stood out to you the most.

Everyone is having discussions while showering and changing. When you emerge feeling refreshed and clean, you approach Drew and introduce yourself. 

"You're Drew right?" You ask him abruptly, "My name is Y/N," with your hand out.

Drew turns around, amused to see you. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Drew," he smiles, gently shaking your hand, "and you did an amazing job tonight."

Drew and you get to talking for a bit until you exchanged socials and numbers. You two began hanging out in private⎯getting to know one another. Learned so much about him and grew to form feelings for him⎯he felt the same way.

Two months later, Drew and you are happily together. Never felt this way about someone in a long time. Feels like he was sent to you for a reason. When you soft launched your relationship to the media, fans were nuts over it⎯even Adam.

Adam: so you're dating someone?

Y/N: and why do you care if you used me? goodbye.

Blocked.

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