#rafe cameron universe

[itneverendshere]

Maybe bartender reader and Rafes wedding is super emotional because she doesn’t have any family apart from her sister and she gets like sad when they’re writing the guest list or something??

a little drabble about getting the guest list done🥺🫶🏻 this was so cute to write, god they’re so in love😭😭😭😭 thank you for the request! hope you like this 💘

the last thing rafe ever thought he’d care about was wedding details.

but here he was, sitting at the kitchen table with you, half-listening as you flipped through guest lists and vendor catalogs. you were still months away from the big day, and it hadn’t sunk in completely—he was marrying you.

you were scribbling names onto a piece of paper, biting your lip in that way you always did when you were focused.

"okay, so… your side. let’s go over it,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

he noticed something then. you were staring at the list a little too long, pen hovering just above the paper, fingers tightened around it, and your jaw clenched.

he looked down at the blank spots on the paper, his hand slipping over yours, thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles.

"baby, what’s wrong?"

you blinked, like you hadn’t realized how quiet things had gotten, and looked up at him. your eyes were a little glassy, smile forced.

"yeah, i’m fine. just... thinking."

"thinking about what?" he asked.

it wasn’t like you to get worked up over stuff like this. you’d been cruising through most of the planning, but something about this part—about who you were inviting—seemed to be messing with you.

you put the pen down and sighed, "it's just... there's not many people for me to invite, you know?"

rafe furrowed his brow, not really understanding.

"what are you talking about? you’ve got your sister, milo, jj’s dumbass.”

you took a shaky breath, your eyes scanning the few names on your side of the list, gesturing with a soft, humorless chuckle.

"yeah, that’s pretty much it."

he sat up straighter.

rafe wasn’t the most emotionally aware guy sometimes, but when it came to you, he was always tuned in; he knew you well enough to get what was going on.

your mom passed away when you were young, and your dad? that deadbeat never showed up for anything, let alone a wedding. your sister and nephew were basically the only family you had.

compared to his list—shit, compared to most people’s lists—that was nothing.

he might’ve come from a big family, but he knew what it felt like to be lonely. even in rooms full of people, he’d never really felt understood until he’d met you.

"it’s not about how many people show up. i mean, shit, my list is mostly because rose’s making me invite people she thinks i should. that’s not what matters."

you laughed, but it was weak, the kind of laugh someone gave when they didn’t believe a word you were saying. he’d never thought about family the way you did.

"yeah, but it still feels… wrong," you admitted, "you have all these people, and i’ve got barely anyone. it’s like…" you paused, "it’s like a reminder that i don’t really have a family. not in the way most people do."

he’d never thought about it that way—had never realized how much it could hurt to feel alone in something so big, so full of love and celebration. his heart twisted for you, and he moved his chair closer to you, the wood scraping against the floor.

"hey," he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "you know what family is to me?" he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek, "it’s you. it’s us, building something real together. i don’t care if it’s just me and you standing up there. that’s all i need."

you leaned into his hand, "it’s just hard.”

rafe felt the desperate need to make you feel the love that he did. he took both your hands now, looking at you with that earning look only you got to see, the one that reminded you how down bad he truly was.

"you’ve got me. and you’ve got jj and milo and your sister. but more than that, baby, we’re starting something here. you and me. we’re the start of something huge."

you looked down, the tiniest smile creeping at your lips.

"and if you think i’m not gonna spend my entire life making you feel like you’re surrounded by love," he continued, "then you’re crazier than me."

a laugh escaped you, airy almost breathless, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours.

"i know it’s not easy," he murmured, brushing his lips over yours in a barely-there kiss. "but trust me. i’ve got more love for you than any fuckin’ guest list can hold. and just so you know, i’m more than happy to go through the guest list and cut people if it makes you feel better. we could have this whole thing just be me, you, and a couple of strangers as witnesses.”

“i’m not asking you to uninvite your whole family, you idiot,” you scolded him, shaking your head.

“good,” he smirked, “because rose would actually kill me. but seriously, baby, this is about us. i don’t care if it’s just a tiny handful of people for you or a stadium full for me. the second you walk down that aisle, nothing else exists for me. not the number of people, not the table settings—just you.”

for the first time that night, a real smile broke across your face, “i love you, you know that?”

he grinned, all boyish and sweet, and pulled you into his arms. “good. because i’m madly in love with you.”

you made a face, pulling back just enough to narrow your eyes at him. "you’re disgustingly obsessed with me. like, clinically down bad, you know that?"

rafe’s grin only widened, completely unbothered.

"oh, i know," he replied, leaning forward like he was telling you a secret. "and honestly, it’s worse than you think. i’m at the ‘plan your dream wedding, tolerate jj for you, and learn to cook because you made one offhand comment about it’ level of obsessed."

you groaned dramatically. "absolutely shameless."

"don’t act like you’re not equally obsessed," he shot back, his lips twitching up in a smirk.

"rafe cameron, stop. i am trying to be serious here," you replied, but you couldn’t hide the way your lips quirked up, that little smile you always got when he pulled you out of your head.

"and i’m seriously in love with you," he said, giving you that stupidly earnest look he’d perfected, the one that he knew would make you roll your eyes. "face it, you’re stuck with me. not even a stadium full of rose’s golf club friends could make me take my eyes off you that day."

“gross,” you muttered, scrunching your nose up as if you were truly repulsed.

you leaned in anyway, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, and he was positively glowing.

“i’m serious, though,” he protested, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. “one day, you’re gonna look back on all this planning and realize it didn’t even matter. because it’s just me and you and whatever the hell kind of family we build.”

“see, that’s what i’m talking about,” you replied, attempting to hold back your laughter. “that right there? disgusting. obsessed. do you even hear yourself?”

he chuckled, not remotely phased, because it was true. he was completely, embarrassingly obsessed with you, and he wasn’t even pretending to hide it.

“you love it,” he teased, nuzzling into your neck.

you scoffed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close despite your complaints.

"you know what? i do. but don’t get it twisted—I’m only marrying you because i’m really into the way you clean the kitchen when i threaten you.”

“admit it, you're just as disgustingly obsessed with me," he argued, still shameless, kissing your neck softly and feeling you melt against him despite your mock outrage.

“fine,” you muttered, rolling your eyes with a grin. “but only because you’re so tragically whipped, and it’s kinda cute.”

he knew he’d spend his whole life happily being disgusting if it meant getting to love you exactly like this.

[percabething]

when the fic has an aesthetically pleasing layout but the writing is… questionable

[erwinsvow]

rafe topper and kelce being protective of you at a party !!

"wan' some?" the boy next to you offers you the little mirror with white lines, his eyes big and bloodshot. you don't recognize him, you just took a seat on the nearest surface since your feet hurt from dancing.

"i've never done it. what's it like?" you cock your head, interested in the answer. rafe is particularly strict about coke—you're not allowed anywhere near the stuff. it's a stupid double standard since topper and kelce get high with him all the time, and you're stuck driving their asses home.

you glance around, making sure the boys aren't nearby. you aren't really a troublemaker but you've always been able to hold your own with them. especially rafe, since the two of you rarely agree on anything—where to go for lunch, what music to play in the car, which kind of beer to buy.

coke is the one thing he's stern about, and you don't really like testing him about it either, since he's so much more pleasant when you listen. you like to tease him but he thought you were smart enough not to mess with the only rule he'd given you.

"once you start you won't be able to stop," the boy replies, passing the plate onto your lap. the whole thing feels a little grimy, the way he's touching your legs, how high he looks.

"yeah, i think i'm gonna pass.” you try to slide it back, when he grabs your wrist.

"no, try some."

"no, i'm good-" you try to get up, the mirror clanging to the ground, white powder hitting the floor.

"you bitch-" you turn and try to get away, trying to get your wrist free of his grip, when he holds on tighter.

"what the fuck is this?" you hear the boom of kelce's voice, coming over and pushing the boy aside.

"are you deaf, man? she said no, don't keep fucking asking, you creep-" you hear topper defend you.

oddly enough, you hadn't expected it. the boys are nice, and they're your best friends, but you thought you were almost just another one of the boys, didn't think they'd care enough like this.

"you okay?" kelce asks, while the boy scrambles on the floor. your eyes are wet, you're not sure when you started crying. "rafe, over here."

"no, don't tell him-"

"don't tell me what?" rafe asks, taking in the boy darting away, the broken glass and spilled drugs on the floor. he picks up your red marked wrist. "hey, hey."

you turn to face rafe, tears spilling down your cheeks. you feel even more embarrassed infront of him.

"you okay?" he asks, leaning in close. you nod, trying to speak but it comes out in a wrangled sob. "hey, s'okay, you're fine now." he brings you into a hug, and you cry softly against his chest for a few minutes.

you think you're incredibly thankful for your friends.

rafe thinks he's never letting you out of his eye sight again at a party.

[mayanneaa]

always and (not) forever - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY : rafe breaks up with you right after you get accepted to stanford university.

WARNING(S) : angst, swearing, not really proofread

A/N : can you tell i just watched to all the boys: always and forever? (divider by @roseraris )

WC : 0.7k

masterlist.

Your heart’s pounding more and more as you click on the email you just got.

It’s late at night, only the crickets outside accompanying your growing emancipation. You squeeze the hem of your pajama shirt, biting your lip almost to blood.

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for forever— the week of acceptance letters from Stanford.

You can’t really remember when exactly you decided that a university across the whole country was good for you. It just… happened.

Your boyfriend, Rafe, wasn’t particularly excited for you to study so far away since he wanted to go to the one in-state. You managed to convince him that you’ll be well.

The email is long, but after the first words, you don’t even bother reading more. You got in.

A scream escapes your lips, quickly muffled by your hands. You sit there wide-eyed, the faint light of your laptop’s screen falling on your face.

“Oh my God.”

You immediately grab your phone, trembling fingers dialing Rafe’s number. He answers faster than the first ding.

“What’s up, baby?” His voice’s a little raspy and low as if he was falling asleep.

“I got into Stanford,” you whisper, the words feeling unreal once they leave your mouth. “Can you believe it, Rafe?”

He doesn’t say a single word before he lets out a faint hum. “That’s… great. I mean, you’re happy, right?”

“Yeah, of course!”

There’s a silence— a moment where you can let your emotions cool off a bit, followed by Rafe clearing his throat.

“Actually… Can we meet?”

You knit your eyebrows. His voice is steady but distant. Something you haven’t heard in a while. “Like, right now?”

Rafe hums in response, and you feel the confusion bubbling up. “Well, if you want to you can come over, but be quiet. My parents are asleep.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

You hang up the phone, your hand lingering as you glance at the laptop screen.

Was Rafe overthinking this whole ‘distance’ thing once again?

You’ve already told him a million times that it will work out. So why the sudden change of mind?

You slip your feet into your slippers and grab a hoodie you throw on on the stairs.

The light from Rafe’s motorcycle flashes through the windows, a quiet buzz filling the natural silence. You quickly open the door and get outside, a chilly breeze hitting your bare legs.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, crossing your arms on your chest.

Rafe takes off his helmet and looks at the ground. “I think we should break up before you go to Stanford.”

You grimace, scrunching your nose. “What are you talking about? Rafe, we’ve been through this. I know it’s hard to be this long distance, but we can do it—”

“No.” The word comes out of his mouth so quickly, you gasp under your breath. “Honestly, how do you see that? Going from what we are now, from me getting to your door in five fucking minutes to seeing each other once God knows how much time?”

“But… you agreed to that earlier…”

“I was wrong,” Rafe says as quietly as a whisper, his voice cracking. “I’m not going to watch it all fall apart in two, four, or even six months. It’s better if we just end it now.”

You squeeze your arms and clench your jaw so tight it almost hurts.

How dare he just stand there, not even looking at you, as your life seems to split in two?

“Don’t say that, Rafe. You don’t mean it…” You say, your voice is small, but you know better than this. Rafe doesn’t just say things.

“I do.”

Two words. Those two words were enough to let the tears pushing onto your eyelids fall.

“Are you serious? After all we’ve been through, you leave me because of some stupid belief that we will not make it?” You sigh, anger spilling out with each breath you take.

“Go, Rafe. I don’t want to see your face.”

He inhales sharply as if you just slapped him. Maybe you should’ve done that. Instead, you turn on your heels and storm into the house, not giving Rafe another glance.

All you hear is the engine running, and the quiet sound of your heart breaking.

taglist :

@amterasuu

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo 66' au ! old!serial killer!rafe x young!sugardoll!reader. moodboard & aesthetic only ! (not a fic please !)

you were a young doll stucked in your baby blues shades world, who was born to fall into old men traps. and this one was an old serial killer who made you a missing girl in your small town.

you adored him like he was the only god in the world. and you even started to believe that when he kidnapped you it was not a crime but intimacy.

you were a young crybaby, a babydoll full of tears, with a sweet white and blue soul, pure as heaven, and soft as clouds. you wanted nothing more than to be the wife of the old daddy with dirty bloody hands that can kill for you, but never hurts you.

“ i just wanted you to know that i think you're the sweetest guy in the world. and the most handsome. i love you. ”

you were to him the innocence he never had, the peace he wanted to hold forever. you were his little girl.

“ i will be very sad if you don't come back. just tell me, don't lie to me.”

“ you adore me, you love me, you cherish me, jesus christ you can't live without me”

“ i'm gonna step out of the car for one minute. one minute, i'm gonna step out. put your hands on the dashboard like that. hold 'em like that. don't let me see you move them one finger, not one finger move, not one twitch of a move or i'll come back and choke you to death. i swear to god, don't move, little girl. i can put a gun on your angel face, and blood on your pretty tears. ”

“ do you still think i'm the sweetest guy in the world ?" " yes, always. can i hug you now ?"

tadouuum !!! hbddd @bunnyrafe <333 (i'm 'ot so so proud of it but wish you like it) + @fae-of-prey thx to make me think of it

[princessbrunette]

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃a continuation from the rafe and puppy universe…(click me) ࣪

rafe doesn’t always treat puppy!reader so nicely. infact, sometimes she really tests his patience.

he drags you through the front door to tannyhill with a hand wrapped around your arm — thick gold rings wound round his fingers undoubtedly leaving bruises in their wake as he yanks you inside. you can’t keep up with his long strides, tripping over and having the eldest cameron repeatedly carry the entirety of your weight with his hand everytime you stumbled— wrenching you back to your feet.

whilst this occurs, he lectures you through grit teeth — at the end of his tether. “what’d i tell you huh? what’d i fuckin’ tell you ‘bout manners?” he asks and you’re not sure if it’s rhetorical, letting him march you up the stairs to his bedroom.

“its no big deal—” you hiccup through pained whines as you try to pull away from his stern grip, only making him tighten it.

“nah, nah — you knew exactly what you were doing at the country club. running that mouth when i — i specifically told you to behave today.”

there had been a very high class event, ward forcing rafe to take you along to get you accustomed to the kook-lifestyle after so long of slumming it at the other side of the island. you were ditsy, but not dumb — you saw the way the camerons looked at you, with pity — like you simply weren’t made for this world. thats why you got so attached to rafe, he didn’t pity you. it was tough love, so you assumed — the boy constantly lecturing and berating you but would be the first to save you from any potentially damaging or dangerous situations, and god forbid anyone spoke to you as poorly as he did.

the afternoon was unsavable from the start. you may have been responsible for the large chocolate fountain at the food table falling, you’d accidentally insulted the president of the country club to his face, you’d mistakenly smeared food on the back of rafe’s shirt, and when rafe was rightfully lecturing you for that — you bit him. you bit him infront of one of the important businessmen he had been trying to impress. you understood his anger for once, you’d messed up.

he tosses you onto his bed making you stumble onto it, turning around to watch the way the boy angrily rifles through his dresser drawers, furiously continue to ramble at you. “you know i’ve been saving this, yeah — saving this from when you really messed up. ‘cos i knew you would. you’re a pogue, and you’ll always be one. and — and i’ve been here, tryna look after the runt of the litter — and yet you still disrespect me.” he shakes his head and you watch forlornly, watching him find what he was looking for and begin to pull it out.

“well you wanna run that mouth? wanna— wanna bite me in public? i’m gonna have t’treat you like the dirty pogue puppy you are— okay? didnt wanna have to do this kid but you leave me no choice. s’gotta be me to discipline you, alright? c’mere.” in his hand, you instantly recognise to be some form of muzzle. like the type you’d see on a dog, but this time perfectly crafted to fit a female face. you’d had no idea where he’d got such a cruel item, he had to have had it custom made just to shut you up, a sick fantasy he’d been sitting on. you cower, and he’s unphased.

he undoes the buckles on the side so that he can put it on you, but not before yanking your hands to his belt and leaving them there. “undo this. you’re gonna wear this, n’then you’re gonna let me take what i want from you. a’ight? i’m in charge. you’re gonna learn your damn lesson whether you like it or not.”

you whine as you obey him, trembling fingers fumbling for his belt. the worst part about this, was that you couldn’t deny your arousal. the manhandling, the degrading — you were a sensitive girl, who had sensitive needs, but something about the boy you had such a crush on, the same boy who would deny reluctantly cuddling you to sleep when you had a bad dream that one time, treating you so mean was making your cunt ache with need.

“i’m not gonna bite, i just want to kiss again.” you wail weakly as he brings the muzzle to your face, scoffing out a chuckle that read directly as ‘fat fucking chance’. rafe had kissed you a few times. moments of weakness. he couldn’t deny his feelings for you but — well, actually yes he could. he did deny his feelings for you, and often too. he was head over heels and he didn’t like that.

“kiss? you— you think you deserve a kiss after the way you behaved today?” once the muzzle is fastened and you’re staring up at him with big watery puppy dog eyes, he finishes up with yanking off his belt and undoing his zipper, trying to ignore how your pitiful expression looked. rafe was mean but he wasn’t an idiot— he knows you didn’t mean to be the way you were. you were innocent, naive — but god if taking advantage of that didn’t get him off.

his heart twinges at the sorry look on your face so he flips you over onto your front on the bed, body sprawled out and bouncing from the force. “nah…” he answers his own question as he tugs your dress up your back to reveal your soaked through panties between trembling thighs. he thumbs at the wet patch above where your hole sits meanly, scoffing. “you’re gonna shut up and take this dick. maybe then you’ll get your damn kiss.”

[mrsriddlenott]

Hiiii, my name is Lee and my requests are currently open for small blurbs, oneshots, and head canons. I kinda just write what I’m into in the moment but it is largely Harry Potter/Fanon HP, and I’m currently obsessed w/ OBX so there’s gonna be more of that too ❤️❤️

Also, fair warning I am dyslexic so some of my works do have misspelled words I never went back and fixed.

Last updated: 11/25/24

MASTERLIST MDNI

* Smut — Work In Progress

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank

Anxious

BET*

JB’s Little Sister*

Teach Me, Please* || Another Lesson?*

Rafe’s Girlfriend*

Prove It*

Oh, It’s You (Series Masterlist)

Rafe Cameron

Frayboy!Rafe Fluff

Scrooge

Manipulative*

Harry Potter

Mattheo Riddle

Caught (1*)(2)(3*)(4)(5)(6*)(7) (on pause)

Everyone Who Falls In Love

Patience (1*)(2*)(3*)(4*)

Flu-Shot

Needy*

It’s Okay To Love Them Both

Theodore Nott

First Time *

Comfort

Costume? That’s Barely Clothes.*

Enzo Berkshire

It’s Okay To Love Them Both

I Think I Need A Demonstration*

Harry Potter

Angry Harry *

Can I Help? *

Draco Malfoy

Mistakes

Ron Weasley

Breakn’ Promises

Marauders Era

Regulus Black

Rivalry: Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3 (on pause)

Remus Lupin

More Than Friends*

The Vampire Diaries Universe

Niklaus Mikaelson

His

[marrziy]

—★: imagina uma AU com esses atores nesses universos? Um trio de assassinos gostosos atrás de mim querendo botar minhas entranhas pra fora AAAAAAA 🫦 era meu sonho (só na ficção mesmo pls

[celestiawritess]

Trust

Synopsis ✧ It’s the end of the world. Or better yet, it has been for the past three years. You’ve survived perfectly fine on your own, moving from place to place without much trouble. Until you meet a man who’s got an issue with sharing and an ego bigger than the sun- who happens to be travelling to the same place as you.

Warnings ✧ Rafe Cameron’s ego, lots of death, zombies, gore, violence, mentions of SA, protective Rafe, slow burn, eventual smut.

Word count ✧ 4.3k

Next chapter ➜

When the world had ended, you’d had thought that the brutality of it was awful. People who once looked at others as friends, family, acquaintances- turned on one another, unable to trust. As much of the population succumbed to an illness that the governments claimed was under control- the rest of the world focused on survival.

Eventually the governments fell silent, unable to control what they claimed they could- and the world fell with them. Until the dead began walking again.

You’d been locked in your family’s home, sat on the sofa with your sister and mother, both of them crying and in complete fear as to what to do next- your father in the other room with the illness that had claimed many. That was a day you’d never forget, as the tv began to play safety alerts for those who were still alive- and your father stumbled out of the bedroom.

Except it wasn’t your father. It was what was left of his body, but it was not your father. It was not your father when he ripped into the side of your mother’s throat, her blood spraying over her cream sofa that she loved to keep clean. It was not your father when your mother’s body slumped to the floor, your sister clambering ontop of her, screaming at your father. It was not your father- eyes wide, hands gripping the edge of the sofa as the thing reached for your sister too- and she tried to fight. It was not your father when you finally snapped out of it and reached the stairs, pounding up into your room and shutting the door.

They weren’t your family as you cried softy to yourself in your room, a soft groan and pounding against your door which kept you situated for days.

They were not your family as you climbed out of the window of your bedroom, too afraid to face what they had become.

You sigh, shaking the thoughts from your brain as you listen to the birds chirping through the night. The pistol that you’ve learned to use weighs heavy on your thigh, can of cold beans doing no justice to your empty stomach. The rooftop that you’re perched on gives you a perfect view of the walkers down below, snarling and stumbling after the nice and rats scrambling about the city below.

You wonder to yourself how you’ve made it into this situation, stuck. You hated that word, hated admitting defeat. It’s not like you could rely on anyone else to save you- phone a friend if you must. There is no one else. As far as you know. The last group of people you’d met- you’d been a naive, scared young woman and they’d given you the opportunity to change that.

That was a while ago now. The apocalypse had been here for three years, and any promises of this being over seemed less and less likely. You’d stopped believing in a cure when walkers tore your first group apart. You’d not bothered with people since then.

You’d seen the awful, inhumane ways people had resorted to. It made you feel sick, people turning on other people- fighting, killing, for space, and resources.

You’d have no part in it. You moved silently, in the shadows, keeping to yourself until you got to where you wanted to. You had a plan, one that you were sure would work. You open your bag, which is laid against the wall next to you, grabbing your notebook.

Inside it’s got your map, of which you’ve been loosely tracking where you’d traveled, a big star marking where you’re trying to get to. The outbreak had begun in Florida, almost immediately wiping the population out there and not giving those who were still alive time to get out before the dead began walking again. You were hoping to avoid Florida.

Any of the other states that bordered on the ocean would do you fine. So far, you’d travelled from Wisconsin down to Illinois, on the border of Kentucky. At this rate, you’d hoped to aim for North Carolina, or south- each of the states known for extensive sea access and boats. You’d take one and sail off onto the water, where you’d never have to worry about walkers again. Or people, rarely.

You sigh, drawing the line from where you were yesterday to where you are today. You’d come across a hoard of walkers just before sunset, and not having the arsenal to take it on- nor being stupid enough to try, you’d had to divert.

You finish your can of beans, placing it and the spoon on the wall and looking back down at the city. The walkers like to come out more at night time, you’ve found. It’s a long while until sunrise, the winter months making the nights longer and the days shorter. Nature was against you.

Somewhere in the distance of the city, gunshots ring out. They’re far enough away for you not to worry for now, but close enough to put you off from sleep. Your eyes strain to look as far down the street as possible and you’re sure you see something weaving in between the hoards of zombies- almost looking like a human.

There’s no way someone would survive that, though. It’s a death wish. You reach down for your rifle, leaning down on two knees to get the scope set up on the wall and look where you think you’ve just seen someone.

It’s mostly walkers. There’s a few gaps where they aren’t but for the most part they take up the entire width of the street, making it impossible for anyone to get through without being torn to shreds.

Until you see it again. It’s a flash, a whip which makes you readjust your scope on the wall, scraping your fingers against the rough brick as you try to find whatever is flashing inbetween the groups of walkers. Could it be the same person who fired off the gunshots?

You’re not sticking around to find out. You scoff, leaning your rifle against the wall and you roll up your sleeping bag in no time, attaching it to the clasps at the bottom of your bag. You reach up for your spoon, knocking the can of beans off the wall and listening as it clambers to the floor of the alleyway down below. The snarls tell you that the walkers are alert now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse, shoving your spoon in the side pocket and reaching for the strap, slinging it over your shoulder. You reach for your handgun, shoving it in the waistband of your pants and then your rifle, slinging it over your shoulder before rushing over to the wall at the other side of the building.

It’s a good eight stories to the floor below, yet you think someone must have lived here before, on this rooftop, because the fire escape had been blocked off, a plank of wood stretching across the gap to the next building. Your ears strain as you can hear someone trying the rooftop door, small growls slipping out of the gap. The lock was busted, but that didn’t stop you from propping an old wooden pallet in front of the door for occasions exactly like this. You’d watched, observed the walkers. They retained some of their skills from their past life, you thought- like being able to open door handles, or listen out for noises and eventually figure out where the noise had come from.

You click your tongue, head tilting to the side as you hop up onto the wall, wood already creaking beneath your feet. The growls intensify behind the door and you’re sure you hear the scraping of the wooden pallet, deciding it’s now or never to cross the wooden bridge.

You’re halfway across the two buildings when the pallet gives way, shuffling feet sounding out on the rooftop as you hop down the wall on the other side of the wood. You spin, seeing at least ten walkers all following each other on the rooftop as they try to sniff you out. You push the wooden bridge, letting it fall of the wall and slip in between the two buildings and clatter to the floor below.

The walkers turn and growl as the slump towards you, stopping at the obvious gap between them and their next meal. You roll your eyes. Maybe they’re not as smart afterall.

By the time the sun rises, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, the city behind you now. It was in your best interest to not stay there anymore- cities are never a good idea anyway. The main road that you’ve been walking along to get out of the city is littered with walkers, but not too many to the point that you can’t deal.

You decide to find somewhere to sleep, somewhere quieter along the back roads that will keep you a bit safer. You couldn’t travel much today without the promise of sleep. Along the road, to the left, there’s a little diner that looks fairly looted. It’s to be expected, so close to the city.

Still, you decide to take a look, on the off chance that some looters are picky and have left you some bits. The door sways slightly in the breeze- or what’s left of it, metal bent and shards of glass all over the step. The glass crunches under your boots as you slide through the gap in the door, hand gripping your pistol in your waistband.

The inside of the diner is exactly how you expect it to look. Everything is all over the place, tables turned and windows smashed. The glass still crunches underneath your feet, remnants of salt shakers and ketchup bottles kicked to the side as you make your way around the counter.

There’s a picture on the wall that catches your eye, surprisingly untouched despite the rest of the wreckage in the little establishment. It’s a picture of an old woman and man smiling together outside what looks to be the diner- freshly opened. Back when the world was normal.

Moving past it, you swing round the corner into the kitchen, all the cupboards and fridges swung open, any signs of food here long gone. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose when you hear a noise. Crunching glass.

Someone, or something was in here with you. Your hand immediately snaps back to the gun in your waistband.

“Wouldn’t grab that gun if I were you,” the voice is rough, like it’s the first words they’ve spoken in months. Slowly, you raise your left hand, right tightening on your gun as you think of an action plan.

There’s a door in the back left corner, an island of counters blocking you. It’s not worth the risk, you think- you’ve not seen the person, and you don’t know if they’ve got a gun pointed at the back of your head right now or not.

“Put the other hand up too, now,” your teeth latch onto the inside of your cheek, contemplating the back door escape. “Are you deaf? Now, or I blow your brains out,”

Your fingers unfurl from around the gun, raising your hand slowly. You feel as they begin tugging your rifle away from your shoulder- and you spin. Your elbow flies to their gun, knocking it out of their hand as it clatters to the floor and skids under one of the fridges. Immediately, you reach for your own gun, aiming it at the person.

You’re sure he can see the look of pure disgust on your face. His hands are now the ones raised, covered in blood. To be precise, his entire outfit was covered in blood. Dirty, shiny black blood.

“You’re infected?” You surprise yourself with your own voice. Your grip tightens around your gun as you take a few steps back, gaze never faltering. He shakes his head, pretty quickly, matted hair following in clumps.

You wave your gun down his attire, eyebrow raised. “Got caught in a hoard in the city back there. Had to cover myself to get out,”

The sentence clicks in your head and you remember the night before on the rooftop when you saw something zapping through the hoards. It must have been this guy.

You laugh, breathily, still keeping the gun raised. “Makes sense, I saw you.”

He smirks, dropping his hands to his sides. “Gotta do whatever to survive,” you can practically smell the ego from here, even over the pounds of walker blood.

You scoff. “That include threatening to blow my brains out?”

He clicks his tongue, shuffling his bag on his shoulder. “You were about to find my stash. Friend or foe, it’s mine.” You glance around the picked clean kitchen, noticing finally a piece of drywall that was slightly pulled to the side.

“Well, foe, I’m good. I’ll go find stuff elsewhere.” You move backwards, keeping your gun up, towards the back door. He shuffles forward, but you wave your gun.

“Stay put until I’m gone. Don’t want anymore trouble.”

He nods, and you can tell he wants to say something else but holds his breath as you reach for the door handle. It’s stuck, probably from not being used for so long.

“Why don’t we stick together? Some pretty cool moves you’ve got there,” he says, gesturing to his gun that’s still on the floor. You shake your head, finally unsticking the door handle and swinging the door open. Despite being winter, the Illinois sun beats down on you almost immediately.

“I’m good. I like being on my own.” You don’t let him say anything else as you jump down the back step, slamming the door behind you.

You shove your gun back into the waistband of your pants as you circle wide enough around the building to join back onto that road. Of your map was right, following this road today would take you past some fields and into a smaller town. Smaller meant less, but also meant less chance of being completely picked clean.

It’s quiet, sun high in the sky already- midday. You didn’t have long left until the sun would disappear, and you’d need to find somewhere to hold up again. You can feel the exhaustion seeping through your bones, and your feet ache from the broken soles of your boots. Still, they’d not let you down yet- you couldn’t find the heart to part ways with them until they were truly gone.

It was one of your bad habits. You reach down into your thigh garter, pulling your knife out as a walker snarls and stumbles towards you. It tumbles over its own feet, falling onto you. You lodge your knife into its head, pulling the knife back and pushing the zombie to the floor.

There’s a little house to your left, seemingly picturesque and untouched. It’s in the middle of the fields, and when you glance over your shoulder, the city is like a mirage in the distance. If things would have been normal, this house would have been ideal. Close to the city but far enough away to keep from the city life.

Although the sun is lowering quicker than you would have liked, you decide not to stop. Ideally, you’d like to put as much distance between you and the guy from the diner, presuming he was following you.

Your feet are killing by the time you reach the first part of the small town. There’s a few walkers littered around but nothing to make a fuss over yet, all easily avoidable. You pick the first store you see, an old hairdressers, which looks fairly safe and secure. No smashed windows, boards covering them so no one can see inside. If it had roof access, even better.

The door groans loudly as you open it, under the pressure of being secured shut for so long. The stars are on your side, however, as a glance over your shoulder shows that none of the walkers on the street heard it. Inside is exactly how you expected it to look- dusty.

Everything is pretty intact, aside from the cash register picked clean. It makes you scoff, wondering what the person who took the money is doing now. Money had no means anymore. Not to you at least.

There’s a door at the back of the small salon which you push open, to be met with the tiny fenced in bin yard. There’s a rickety wooden chair placed in one corner, next to a ladder which leads up to the roof of the one story building. The ladder creaks under the weight of you climbing, obviously close to breaking.

You swing one leg over the edge of the roof, seeing an old sleeping bag crumpled up in one corner, remnants of a fire nearby. It’s obvious someone’s not been here for a while, and you ponder what could have happened. It doesn’t stop you from stopping your bag to the floor, groaning as your shoulders free from the extra weight.

You can see the rest of the small town from here, mostly little businesses that you’ve never heard of before and something that you’d hoped for- a mostly intact supermarket. Only the doors looked like they were smashed, the windows also boarded up.

Taking a seat next your bag, you pull out your notebook and mark off your journey from today. The sleepiness seeps through you as you’ve finally stopped moving, reaching to unclip your sleeping bag and roll it out on the roof top.

As you lie down, looking up at the stars, you think about how much you’d kill for a massage right now.

When you wake, it’s dark. There’s etchings of light creeping up on the horizon, which makes you confident that it’s morning. There’s little to no moaning out on the street below, and a look confirms that most of the walkers from yesterday have wandered away somewhere else.

You make quick work of rolling your sleeping bag back up, clipping it into place before gathering your bag and slinging it over your shoulders, along with your rifle. There’s a renewed sense of energy around you as you slide down the ladder, pushing open the bin yard gate and walking down the side of the building to join back into the Main Street.

Most of the buildings along the way to the supermarket hold little to no value to you. They’re full of little trinkets or other items that are practically useless nowadays. The supermarket is littered with walkers, of which all crowd through the smashed doors when you tap the glass. They fall over each other, making it easier for you to pick them off.

Once you’re inside, you’re not so surprised to see almost everything is gone. There’s a putrid smell, and you’re not sure if it’s the brown mush of the refrigerated products left or the pile of corpses in the corner, burned to a crisp. The black soot travels up the wall and onto the ceiling, the tiles crumbling and hanging towards the floor.

There’s a few tinned goods left dotted around, and it makes you wonder if people had been picky when scavenging. It wasn’t really a luxury to pick and choose what you are nowadays, as you shove as many tins into your bag as possible.

Once you’re satisfied, you make a circle round the store, making sure there’s nothing you might have missed. You’re sad to not be able to fit everything into your bag, but the weight, ten times heavier than the previous day, makes you grateful.

It’s raining when you clamber over the walker bodies at the front of the store. You almost do a double take when you see someone stood at the window of the store, greying to look in through the cracks on the boards.

Your hand reaches for your gun, pulling it out of your waistband. The person turns and almost immediately you scoff. It’s the guy from yesterday, albeit a lot cleaner than you had last seen him. He grins when he sees you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Anything good?” He asks, causally, like you’ve known each other for decades. You roll your eyes, turning away and walking in the other direction. You actually needed to go the way that he was stood, but you simply just didn’t want to pass him.

You can hear his footsteps on the cracked pavement as he jogs to catch up to you.

“Look- hey, I think it’d be good for us to stick together.” His statement makes you turn, throwing him a look that you’re confident could kill.

He raises his hands in defence. “I’m serious. You’re obviously going somewhere important and I’d like to come too.”

“Like I told you yesterday, I’m good. Stop following me.” You brush past him, not walking in the right direction. The sun is now fully on the horizon, casting the town in a soft orange glow.

“Whoa. Firstly, I’m not following you. We just happen to be going in the same direction. Secondly, it’s not safe for you to be alone,” you fight the urge to roll your eyes as you cut down a side street, hoping to find the highway close by quick enough so you could make a straight beeline for the Kentucky border. You’d make it today, if you weren’t being pestered so much.

“I’ve managed perfectly fine on my own, thank you.” His hand wraps around your wrist to stop you from loving and immediately you slam the handle on your gun onto his fingers, causing him to yelp out and let go.

“Okay, there was no need to be like that.” His yelp alerts the attention of some walkers nearby, a fairly sized crown which begins stumbling towards you.

“Great,” you mumble, shoving your gun back in your waistband in favour of your knife. One zombie comes close enough to allow you to shove your knife deep into its eye socket, falling limp and to the floor. The other four come all at once, causing you to stumble backwards as one grasps at your raised hand. You manage to stab it but don’t have time to reel back for the other three- until the persistent guy lurches forward, using his own knife to swipe at two of them. The final one swerves around for you but falls to the floor, giving you the opportunity to bring your boot down onto its head.

You breath out heavily, turning to look at the guy. “Groups bring unwanted attention. I’m good on my own.” You begin walking away again, sheathing your knife back into your holder. You can hear him jogging to catch up again and you sigh.

“Cmon. I’ll do anything. I’m just trying to get home to my family.” The comment makes you stop for a second, the memories flashing through your brain briefly before you push them away.

“And I wish you the best of luck with that. I can’t help you.” It’s his turn to sigh now, and despite your best efforts to speed up, he manages to keep your pace.

“I’m not asking for help. I’m asking for companionship. Once I’m where I need to be, I’ll be out of your hair.” You falter, considering. It would be nice to not have to watch your own back all the time.

“And where do you need to be?” You ask, wiping your brow.

He cocks a grin, which you notice out of your peripheral. He must be thinking he’s got you hook line and sinker right now.

“North Carolina. It’s where my family will be.” You turn toward a field behind a house, the highway situated at the other side. Either way, you’d both be going the same way.

Except he had a family to go to. That, he seemed so sure of. He was hopeful. Hopeful he still had his family, that they were alive. You’d left yours a while ago, not that you’d say anything about that. To anyone. The thought of it gives you a headache and you reach for your water bottle, taking a tiny sip. Water was sacred now.

When you reach the fence he offers his hand to help you over but you shake your head, climbing over yourself and dropping down into the soft grass. You pan your eyes up to his face. He’s still got that soft grin plastered over his features, watching you as you readjust your rifle strap and bag. His hair is no longer matted, soft bangs falling unkept over his face. You wonder where he’s found the time or resources to wash all the blood out of his hair.

You hated to say so, but thinking about him using walker blood to get through a hoard was resourceful. The way he took down those two walkers too. He wouldn’t be dead weight. And he’d be out of your hair in a months time.

“You’re gonna follow me even if i say no, aren’t you?” You ask, and he grins wider, nodding his head. You sigh, pulling out your notebook to check your map. Right on track.

You don’t say anything else, though, walking forward with a small nod of your head.

“Lord help me.” You mumble, wading through the grass to the highway.

Something a little different for the Rafe AU scene. Let me know if you’re enjoying and want me to continue cos I’ve got some ideas🕺

[cybermcdel]

— 𝔖𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗦, rafe cameron . . . ⋆ ࿔｡  

⌗ pairing: ❪ f1 racer!rafe cameron x fem!reader ❫

⌗ summary: ❪ when a girl is getting to close rafe, reader has to reminded a b*tch what’s up…❫

⌗ tags: ❪ jealous y/n, cursing etc! ❫

⌗ a/n: ❪ I love smacking a b*tch from monday to sunday !! ❫

— ( 💿 ) 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 —

❝ Damn papa, you a rare breed, no comparing

And it's motherfuckin' scary

Tryna keep him 'cause I found him

Let a hoe know I ain't motherfuckin' sharing.❞

The Monaco Grand Prix was in full swing—champagne bottles popping, cameras flashing, and the air thick with the scent of burning rubber and expensive cologne. Rafe had just taken another easy win, cementing his place as the top driver in F1, and now, the paddock was buzzing with post-race energy.

And you? You were that girl.

Dressed in the skimpiest, cutest little outfit that had everyone doing double takes—tiny designer skirt barely covering what it needed to, a cropped top that showed off your curves just right, and heels that had you strutting like you owned the place. Which, let’s be real, you did.

Your man had just won, and you looked like a damn trophy waiting for him at the finish line.

But apparently, someone didn’t get the memo.

A perky little grid girl—one of those too-friendly, too-touchy types—was practically draped over Rafe, giggling at nothing and laying her hand on his arm like she had any right.

“Oh my god, Rafe,” she cooed, twirling her hair, “you were incredible out there! Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone handle a car like that.”

Your brows shot up.

The fuck?

Rafe, being Rafe, barely acknowledged her. His blue eyes were locked on you, sharp and heated as he took in your outfit, his focus entirely elsewhere. But Miss Grid Girl? She was still running her mouth.

And you? You don’t play about your man.

You strutted over, sliding right between them without a second thought, pressing yourself into Rafe’s chest with a sweet smile. “Hi, baby.”

Rafe’s arms were immediately around your waist, pulling you closer. “Hey, princess,” he murmured, his hands already slipping lower.

You flicked your gaze to her, tilting your head. “You need something?”

Her smile faltered. “Oh! I was just saying how amazing Rafe’s driving was today—”

“Right.” You cut her off, smiling syrup-sweet. “Well, trust me, babe, I know how good he is at handling things.” You let your fingers trace over his chest. “On and off the track.”

Rafe huffed a low laugh against your ear, fingers tightening on your waist. “Careful, baby,” he murmured. “You start something, I’m finishing it.”

The girl flushed, stammering, “I— I was just being nice—”

“Mhm,” you deadpanned, giving her a once-over before smiling again. “Well, ‘nice’ looks a little different when you’re touching my man. But don’t worry, I’ll let it slide. “Just this once.”

She swallowed hard, eyes flicking to Rafe for help—but he wasn’t even looking at her. His entire focus was on you, his grip firm, his smirk knowing.

You leaned up, brushing a slow kiss over his jaw before whispering, “Let’s go, champ. I got something better for you than a trophy.”

Rafe groaned, low and deep, already moving. “Fuck, baby—”

And just like that, the grid girl? Completely forgotten.

[winterrrnight]

secret admirer (rafe's pov)

PAIRING: high schooler!soft!rafe cameron x high schooler!fem!reader

SUMMARY: the reader has a secret admirer who drops letters, flowers and some other little souvenirs in their locker.

WARNINGS: so much lovesick rafe, fluff and fluff and fluff, extremely cute moments between the two

EDITH SPEAKS: and it's here!!! let's completely ignore the fact that it's been months since the original post :p please make sure you've read the original one first, because it's a bit more detailed and includes what rafe's letters say (you can find the original fic directly linked in my navigation or through the series masterlist!). I hope you all really enjoy this; this is a big piece of my heart in the form of writing 💓 please like and reblog and comment all your thoughts!!! 💘💘

navigation || requests || join my taglist || series masterlist

I walk in the school gates after my soccer practice, still in my sweaty clothes from the intense training. I look at the lockers on my left, carefully seeing the numbers on each of them so I don’t miss the one I’m looking for.

I finally find the one I’m looking for. Through one of the three little slits in the middle of the locker, I slide in my envelope. It has a letter and a little daisy in it. She’s like one; so delicate that I want to protect her from the whole world and only want her to be mine.

Because I do. She comes in my dreams every night, where she so delicately holds my hands and kisses my skin. I feel so lightweight that I will just melt right in her touch.

I look around the hallway, making sure no one sees me. When I notice no one, I take in a deep breath of relief and walk out of the school.

She needs to know how much she means to me. She needs to see how much I appreciate her.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

I now try to send in an envelope as often as I can. I send one in every few days, and try to mix it around with the little souvenir that accompanies the letter. So far, I’ve sent her flowers, chocolates, and a small bracelet which I made for her.

But today, I woke up so late, I had to miss my soccer practice. My clothes aren’t on properly, and I didn’t even have any time to do something to my hair. I look like I just rolled out of the bed.

I have to be so discreet each time I put in the letter in the locker. I don’t want anyone catching me. That’s all I am: her secret admirer. The one who admires her from afar. The one who sends her little letters to remind her how beautiful she is, and how she deserves the whole world.

I have put in the letter without anyone noticing. I’m now standing right behind the turn of the hallway, where I have a clear look of her. She’s opening her locker. I notice a bright smile on her face when she sees the letter.

Suddenly, the bell rings, cutting through my thoughts. I notice her cursing and rushing to the class, the unopened letter in her bag. I have the same class as her: it’s English and there’s no way our teacher will let us in the class.

I rush to the class too, and by the time I reach, she’s already at the door, the teacher giving her an earful. Just as I stand right behind her, our teacher notices me.

“Oh looks like we have another late comer,” He says, glaring at me. She realizes my presence, and turns around to look at me. We make brief eye contact, and I feel my cheeks heat up. We’re standing close to each other, so close that I can hear her breathing.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I set an alarm but it didn’t ring and-” I start to ramble, but the teacher cuts me off.

“DETENTION! Both of you!” He suddenly yells at the two of us. I watch her flinch, and just for a second, I have the urge of breaking the teacher’s face. He signs two detention slips and hands those to us, and then he dismisses us by closing the door on our faces.

She looks down at the slip at her hand. She hates getting detention. She’s the nice, intelligent student of our grade, and she tries to stay out of detention as much as she can.

She looks up to me and we make brief eye contact again. Oh her eyes. I find myself drowning in them each time I see her.

“Shall we go?” I ask her, wanting her to look at me with those beautiful eyes of hers. But she doesn't lift her head up, and only gives me a nod. We both start to make our way to the detention classroom.

When we reach inside, we only see our PE teacher sitting. He’s too busy reading his magazine and doesn’t realize we both have walked in until we sit down.

“Just two of you?” He looks at us, and she nods in response. “Well that's going to be a waste of my time.” He shuts his magazine close and leaves it on the desk, starting to make a beeline for the door.

“I’ll be here in an hour to let you both out. Don't do anything dumb, you're being watched.” He says and quickly leaves the room, me and her being all alone.

A silence wraps around the two of us, and it feels very serene. I pull out one of my books to read, but I falter at keeping my focus on the words because of her sitting next to me. I can’t help but steal a glance of her after every few seconds, and I swear with each passing second, she just gets more beautiful.

When she opens her bag, she pulls out the letter. I intake a sharp breath, and watch her open the envelope and read the words written on them. A smile graces her lips as her eyes wander over the words, and I feel my heart skip a beat.

“What’s that?” The words leave my mouth so quickly, I don’t realize I’ve spoken them. She snaps her head towards me.

“Nothing,” she says, focussing on folding the paper back again and putting it back in the envelope.

“Looks like a love letter, someone's been writing you love letters?” I pose the question, wanting not to show I’m the one who wrote it.

“Maybe?”

Why is she not as happy as I thought she would be?

“What do you mean, maybe?”

She sighs. “I’ve been receiving these letters which have poetry in French written in them. They usually come along with a little gift, like a small flower or some chocolate. But, there’s no name on the paper whatsoever, so I have no way of knowing who it is, if it’s legit or if someone is playing a prank on me.”

“I don’t think it’s a prank, you know.” She looks back at me, her eyes wide as they sink into mine.

“You don’t?”

“Someone maybe likes you a lot, and is, I don’t know, scared to admit it to you.” I say, shaking my head.

“But, why do you think it’s not a prank? And how are you so sure it is an actual love letter?”

I feel myself almost starting to get riled up; angry because why does she refuse to accept something like that?

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that it can be an actual love letter? That someone actually likes you a lot? You're an amazing person, don't decline the thought of someone being your admirer so easily.” I blurt out, and just the second I finish speaking, I realize I’ve said too much.

I look away from her the next instant, and try to direct all my focus on my work, ignoring the heat rising in my cheeks.

I hear her whisper a small thank you, and as much as I try not to, I steal a small glance at her, her head bent down as she's looking over her school work.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

With the incident at the detention, I decide I have to send her letters every single day, with more gifts in them, my love hidden in each one of them safely, but surely.

I see her opening her locker and finding the letter. I included a daisy chain which I learnt how to make from Sarah, more chocolates and two new bracelets.

I had to stay up overnight to finish making the chain and the bracelets, but it’s all worth it.

It’s for her.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

It was one of the first days of last summer, when I was biking around, waiting for some of my friends to meet up with me. They all had decided to meet up at a new place which I had never been to. Taking different roads and turns, I found myself in unfamiliar areas of the island.

As I continued to bike, I found a big field which I didn’t even know existed. Curious, I got off my bike and went inside the field, and found out it’s actually a huge strawberry field. Strawberries were growing on low lying plants, a bright red color making them pop out from the green of the leaves.

I was completely amazed by them. I followed their path to find a huge opening in the field with a huge tree in the middle. But before I could take any steps further, I saw her sitting under the shade of the tree, protecting herself from the bright summer sun as she was eating the strawberries. She looked so serene; sitting cross legged and biting into those strawberries, sighing as their sweet taste completely encompassed her.

Since then I always see her going on the little road which leads to the huge field, biking her way to it. Now that strawberries are back in season, I have decided to put some of those in her letter next time, and even spend some time there as I try to write some new letters to her.

I decide to go around at least 2 hours before her usual time, so she doesn't see me there at all. With my notepad, my fountain pen, ink bottle and my basket, I find myself in the strawberry field again, taking a deep breath to inhale the sweet smelling air surrounding me.

I sit under the tree, taking my notepad and my pen to begin writing, but, much to my dismay, I don't feel inspired and no words come to my help to write something. Even with a big inspiration right in front of me, I just can't think of something to write.

Frustrated, I leave my notepad under the tree and decide to gather some strawberries. I make my way in between the plants, trying to pluck only the ripest of the ripe strawberries.

Having to walk around in the dirt for so long results in dirt over my face and my clothes, but that doesn't matter to me.

“Just a few more,” I whisper, bending down at one of the bunches of strawberries to pluck them. I look at my basket, which is quite full, but I know I can get some more.

I find myself satisfied with my collection as I look at my full basket. The strawberries shine under the evening shade of the sun, the golden rays making them glow.

I start to walk back out to the tree, but just as I come back out, I spot her looking at me.

Oh shit.

I spent way too much time than I intended and now she's here.

“Oh, hey,” I say awkwardly, as she looks back at me with the same confusion as me.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, what are you doing here?” She questions me.

I can’t tell her why I’m here. I have to make something up.

"Nothing, just... just getting some of these strawberries. I've heard they're really good," I say, walking towards her. I try my best to exude confidence, to show her I’m firm in what I’m pretending to do here.

“How did you... how did you find out about this place? I come here almost every single day and I never see you here. Why suddenly today?”

I see it.

I see the hunger to know everything in her eyes.

I know she has seen my notepad and my pen, just lying there under the shade of the tree.

I know she suspected it when I said too much during the detention. She's set on knowing the truth about everything, about me being the one who drops little words of love in her locker each day, and proving her own assumptions right.

I'm standing silently in front of her, trying to find the right words to start with, and she's looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to start speaking.

“Why do you have that notepad with you, with that fountain pen?” She prompts.

We’ve come too far.

It’s time I tell it all to her.

“For you. It's all for you. It's all always been for you.” I whisper. “These,” I say, motioning to the basket in my hands, “these are for you too.”

"But... why me?” She mutters, her eyes directed towards everywhere but at me.

"Because," I walk closer to her, and with all the confidence in me, I place my finger under her chin and gently push it up so she can only look at me. I feel my hand almost shaking from getting to touch her. “I want you to know how special you are. You deserve nothing but love, and this is just me showing you that.” I move my hand towards her cheek, placing it comfortably. When I see she doesn't show any signs of discomfort, I feel myself starting to get relaxed, my heartbeat taking control over its speed. I feel her cheek radiate heat through my hand.

“But-” she starts, but I cut her off.

“No buts. I told you this before too, why are you not willing to believe that you are so worthy of being loved and appreciated? That there is someone who’s ready to do this all for you, but that wouldn’t be special now, would it? That’s what everyone does. And then my purpose of showing you that I’m not like everyone else and how I will shower you with love every single second of my life is defeated. I will bring you the moon, all you have to do is just ask.”

I say it.

I say it all in a single breath.

Every single emotion I experience when I see her is out in the open for her to see. I feel vulnerable, as if my protective top layer has been scratched away, but not roughly. It’s peeled off carefully, like we peel an orange for a loved one.

But for some reason, she doesn’t seem completely satisfied with all I have to say.

“Why me?”

I sigh, knowing we're both about to take a trip down memory lane.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

I was playing in the sand all by myself, trying my best to make a castle out of it, but my attempts failed me. I was bored; sitting all alone in the sand pit with no one with me. I watched everyone else in the playground, running and laughing with their friends, while I was left all alone.

My attention was directed towards the swings, and a huge smile graced my face when I saw it was empty. It was nearly never empty, always being hogged by the rest of the kindergarteners. I rushed to it and sat on one of them, starting to swing back and forth.

I had just started to enjoy the swing, when a huge group of bullies made its way towards me.

“Hey, give us the swing!” Greg, their leader, demanded. I felt myself getting scared, almost trembling, but I didn't want to give the bullies the satisfaction that they had made me scared.

“No!” I said, tightening my grip on the swings and trying to glare at them; to show they didn't scare me. But that only seemed to anger Greg more, because with just one motion of his head, all of his friends charged towards me. They pulled me away from my swing and threw me on the ground with a loud thud, and I screamed at the pain inflicted to me. I started crying as I helped myself up with all my strength to see Greg laughing at me as he sat on his swing.

I felt lost. No teacher came up to help me, despite there being many in the playground to oversee everything. I sat up properly, sniffling, and I noticed my bruises covering my knees.

But suddenly, I felt the sunlight being blocked in front of me, and I looked up to see you.

You were standing in front of me, a gentle smile on your face as you let out your hand for me. My eyes were wide seeing you being so gentle towards me. I took your hand and you pulled me up, and led me to your teacher in your classroom.

I remember her being shocked at my condition. She took me away from you and started to apply an antiseptic on my knees, which spread a burning sensation. I whined at the feeling, wanting it to end at that instant.

She very carefully applied band aids on my wounds, and gave me a little pat on my cheek, and called me a ‘strong boy’. She left me, and you came in just the next second, taking me to your table in the classroom.

I saw you curiously as you opened up your bag and rummaged through it. You pulled out a lollipop, and handed it to me.

“You are so brave,” you said, and I felt my heart racing at your comment.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the lollipop from your hand.

It was strawberry flavored.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“From that day, I've never stopped looking at you. As we grew older, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with, and I wanted to reciprocate all that you've done for me. It's not just the lollipop, throughout all the years you've been there for me when no one else was, I just don't want you to think that your efforts go unappreciated.” I finish.

She's looking at me with wide eyes, her breathing getting heavier.

She knows why she means the whole universe to me.

She knows why I would travel to the other side of the world to get her her favorite kind of flowers.

“Rafe,” she starts, but tears start to blur her eyes. I move my thumbs to her cheeks to quickly wipe them off, before they fall off her face.

“This is nothing compared to what you've done for me, those chocolates, little verses of poetry, bracelets, they don't amount to the things you've done for me in any way. But I just want to show you how amazing you are, and how you deserve the nicest things in the world.” I whisper.

Before I can process what is happening, her lips are pressed against mine, my eyes shut close as I feel her so close to me. My lips move against hers gently, and I feel her pull me closer to her with her arms around my neck.

She pulls away and gently rests her forehead against mine. My eyes are still shut, and I'm afraid if I'll open them up, I'll wake up from the most serene dream I've ever had.

"Je t'aime. Aujourd'hui. Ce soir. Demain. Pour toujours. Su je vivais mille ans, he t'appartiendrais pour tous. Si je vivais mille vies, je te ferais mienne dans chaacune d'elles." I whisper, taking in a deep breath to let the moment settle in me.

“I love you. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If I were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow

[itneverendshere]

I love pogue!reader and rafe sm. I’m so excited every time you post them ❤️ what if reader realizes she’s really falling for rafe and it’s getting serious so she’s tries to self sabotage and end it. She’s thinking he’s THE kook and she’s a pogue. It can’t last and she won’t survive that heartbreak. so rafe starts to panic but then realizes what’s she’s doing by ending it so he’s just like lol no nice try I’m not going anywhere

 i would follow you home - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.1k

hope you enjoy, i love them too 🩵

It was mid-afternoon, that quiet lull between lunch and dinner when the regulars started to trickle in. And like clockwork, you were wiping down the bar, mindlessly watching the condensation drip from a glass of iced tea when you saw Rafe strolling in.

He always had that cocky walk, shoulders rolled back like he owns the place, which, you guess, technically he kinda did, or at least his dad did. Cameron Development Group practically built the country club.

He spotted you and the corner of his mouth lifted in that way that made your stomach flip. God, you hated how it still got to you.

After months of this—him swinging by the bar at the end of his golf games, lounging against the counter like it was no big deal, driving you home, saving you from the storms, letting you kiss him—your heart should’ve calmed the hell down. But no, here you were, butterflies fluttering in your chest, fingers tightening around the rag you were using to clean.

You tossed it on the counter and busy yourself with stacking glasses.

“Hey, stranger.” His voice was all smooth like he knew exactly what effect it had on you. And he did. You were still a shitty liar and he learned that fast. 

You glanced up, trying to keep things cool, casual. “Hey yourself.”

He settled into one of the barstools, leaning forward, his blue eyes locking on yours. “You off soon?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Why?”

The truth was, you knew why. You knew exactly what he was asking.

He was wondering if you would have time after this—time to sneak off to that little spot by the docks where you'd been meeting up, where things between you had been getting more…a little complicated?

And that’s exactly why you needed to end this.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen it coming. You’d known for a while that whatever this thing was with Rafe, it was headed in a direction you couldn’t afford to follow. He was the poster child for Kook royalty. Born with a silver spoon and all that. Meanwhile, you were still just the bartender, a Pogue, barely scraping by. 

It started simple—quick conversations after work, long talks on the drive home, those random texts at 2 a.m. that turned into hours of you two confessing things you’d never say out loud to anyone else.

You din’t know when it shifted into this—this weird gray area where everything felt more intense. Maybe when you all but kissed him when he picked you up after the storm. That had to be it.

Because you knew how this story ended. You knew what happened when a girl like you fell for a guy like Rafe Cameron.

Heartbreak.

And you wouldn’t survive that.

“I’ve been thinking,” You blurted out, suddenly very aware of the way his eyes were still on you. Too aware. You reached for a clean glass, filling it with soda water to distract yourself. “Maybe we should… I dunno, cool it for a bit.”

His smirk faltered. “Cool it?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged again, trying to seem nonchalant, even though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I mean, this was fun and all, but let’s be real—”

“Be real?”

You nodded, not daring to look up from the glass you were holding.

“We’re not exactly from the same world, Rafe. It was bound to end sooner or later. Might as well rip the band-aid off now.”

Silence. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything, and for a second you wonder if you had done it—if you’d actually convinced him that this wasn’t worth it, that he should’ve just walked away and left you with at least a sliver of your heart intact.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t like a mocking laugh, but it was still a sound you weren’t expecting. Your eyes snapped up to his face, and you saw that damn smirk was back. Only this time, there was something softer in his eyes, something almost… amused?

“Oh, I see what this is.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking way too pleased with himself.

You frowned, instinctively grabbing a towel and wiping the counter again, trying to distract yourself from the way his eyes were making you feel seen. Too seen. 

“What?”

“You’re scared.”

Your stomach dropped. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, standing up and rounding the bar until he was way too close, until you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin and the fresh grass scent of the golf course. He caged you in with his body, one hand gripping the counter behind you, the other reaching up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re trying to push me away because you’re scared. But newsflash, sweetheart—nice try. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight, because damn it, he was right. He was completely, 100% right, and you hated it. You hated that he could see right through you like that, see all your fears, all the things you’d been trying so hard to bury.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

You didn’t know what to say because, deep down, you didn’t want to believe that it mattered to him. You wanted to believe that he saw you for more than just the girl behind the bar. But every time you let yourself get close, that voice in the back of your head reminded you that this wasn’t some fairytale.

“Rafe, you’ll get bored,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out. “You’ll realize this was just… a phase. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can just… go back to that.”

“Go back to that?” He repeated your words slowly like he was testing them out. And then he laughed—this short, disbelieving sound that made your stomach twist, “You’re trying to run.”

“Am not.”

“You are.

“There’s nothing to run from,” You snapped, though even you didn’t believe that.

He was close enough now that you had to tilt your head almost all the way back to meet his eyes, and there was something so raw, so real in the way he was looking at you that you couldn’t breathe.

“Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing,” you managed to repeat, but the word came out more like a question than a statement. The self-doubt you’d been trying to ignore bubbled up, and you hated yourself for it. 

He leaned in closer, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “If you think there’s nothing between us, then why does it hurt so much to even think about letting it go?”

His words hit a particular soft spot, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that you could walk away and be fine.

But the truth was, you weren’t fine. You weren’t even close to fine.

The whole time you’d been telling yourself this was just a fling, some wild phase that would burn out eventually—because that was what made sense. You weren’t supposed to fall for the guy who came from money and lived in a mansion on the hill, while you were still sharing a room with your sister in a run-down house, after yours got destroyed, on the wrong side of the island. 

This was never supposed to be real.

“You don’t get it. You’ve never had to worry about—about someone like me not fitting into your life. You don’t have people looking at you and thinking ‘what the hell is he doing with her?’”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and his thumb brushed a light circle against your waist, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Who cares what people think? I’m not with them. I’m with you.”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him, stepping back just enough to put some space between you.

"No. No, it’s not that simple. You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to always be the one left behind. You’ll get bored, and then what? You just walk away and I’m the one left picking up the pieces."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done.

"And don't say you won’t, because everyone does! I’ve seen this before. I’ve been through it. I don’t survive guys like you." Your voice cracked, and damn it, you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but it was too late. It was all spilling out now, all the fear you’d kept bottled up.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and instead of the cocky smirk you expected, there was something different in his eyes. Anger? No, frustration maybe. But not at you.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his cool. “You think I’m just some guy playing games, huh? That I’m gonna wake up one day and decide you’re not worth it?”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself as if that would protect you from the way his words were hitting you too hard. “Isn’t that what happens?”

“No. Not with me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that!” His voice rose, and you flinched a little, caught off guard by the intensity.

He noticed and apologized immediately, stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours but stopping just short. "I’m here, with you. Because I want to be. Don’t you get that?"

You hated the way he was looking at you, the way his words hit with brutal honesty you weren’t used to—it made you pause. Your eyes fleeted away, focusing on the floor because looking at him was too much.

"Just let me go," you whispered, "It’ll hurt less now."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and before you could pull back, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you in one swift move.

His hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes, and there was no escape from the intensity in them.

"No," he said, firm but quiet. "I’m not letting you go. You’re not pushing me away. I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you try to sabotage this."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you shook your head, trying to argue, but then his lips were on yours, cutting off whatever weak protest you had left. The kiss wasn’t gentle or slow—it was harsh, like he was trying to make you understand something without words. 

 And damn it, you kissed him back. Because of course, you did.

Because despite everything you said, everything you feared, you wanted this. You wanted him. But the second you felt yourself giving in, you pushed him back, your hands pressed against his chest, trying to regain some control. 

"Stop doing that," you snapped, breathless.

"Doing what?" He sounded just as breathless, but he didn’t step away.

"Kissing me like you can fix this. Like—like I’m just gonna believe you."

He exhaled sharply, his hands gripping your waist, keeping you close. "You don’t have to believe me now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you, okay? Just stop trying to run every time it gets hard."

"I don’t know how to do this," you admitted quietly, your hands still resting against his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

"I’ll show you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Just stop pushing me away."

For a moment, you let yourself just be there with him, your defenses crumbling piece by piece. You didn’t know how long it would last, or if you could even survive it, but maybe… just maybe, he was worth the risk.

But still, you couldn’t help but mutter, "You’re so stupid, you know that?"

His lips twitched into a smile. “And you’re still kissing me, again, so what does that say about you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your lips twitched with a smirk of your own.

 “Says I’m just as stupid as you,” you muttered under your breath, but the words lacked bite. Your hands stayed on his chest, fingers still gripping his polo like you were afraid to let go, like maybe if you held on tight enough, you wouldn’t fall apart, “Do you always go around kissing the saff?” You mumbled out.

Rafe’s hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you in closer. His forehead still rested against yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and steady, brushing against your skin. It was infuriating how easy it was to melt into him.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the start of a grin, “Only the ones who can’t seem to stay away from me.”

You groaned, shoving him in the chest with just enough force to make him stumble back a step. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He caught your wrists before you could pull away completely, his grip gentle, keeping you close enough that you could still feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. “Yeah, well, you seem to like insufferable.”

“Do I though?” You quipped, trying to sound indifferent, but your heartbeat was giving you away. You could feel it hammering in your chest, “Because I feel like this whole thing is a bad idea. You know, like ‘kiss the rich guy, ruin your life’ kind of bad idea.”

Rafe’s expression softened, and the teasing glint in his eyes faded. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You tried to play dumb.

“Talk like this doesn’t mean something. Like I don’t mean something to you.” His voice was low, but there was a seriousness in it that made your stomach flip. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, and every time it starts to get real, you act like it’s just… casual.”

Your throat tightened, and you tried to pull your wrists free, but he didn’t let go, making it clear he wasn’t letting you run again.

“Maybe it is casual,” you said, even though the words tasted like a lie. “Maybe we’re just two people having a good time, and that’s it.”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that made your chest ache. “Nah. You’re not fooling me anymore. You don’t kiss someone like you kissed me just for fun.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “Rafe…”

“And you don’t look at me like that when I walk in unless there’s more to it.” His voice softened as his thumb traced light circles against your skin. “So stop pretending it’s nothing.”

“I should be working.”

But Rafe wasn’t letting you off that easy. “Yeah, you probably should,” he said, but his hands didn’t move, and neither did his eyes.

“So you’re gonna let me go?”

“Why’d you kiss me that day?” he asked, "I’ve been wondering.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the question. He was so close, and it was hard to think, let alone answer something that felt so…disarming like everything you’d been running from was waiting in his words.

"I don’t know," you groaned, suddenly feeling like a cornered animal. "I wasn’t thinking straight."

His fingers traced a slow line down your arm, sending shivers through you. "You sure about that?" His voice was quiet, like he already knew you were lying, knew you too well for you to hide behind that excuse. "Because it didn’t feel like just some random kiss."

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off, trying to keep your cool, but the sound came out shaky.

"It was— I don’t know, Rafe. It was just the heat of the moment, okay? The storm… everything." You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze because you knew he wasn’t buying it. "You saved me, and I guess I was—"

"Grateful?" he interrupted, his brow arching. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

You winced. "I didn’t mean it like that."

“Yeah, well, it sure sounds like you’re trying to make it seem like it meant nothing. Like you didn’t feel anything when you kissed me.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond right away. He wasn’t wrong. That kiss had meant something—maybe more than you were ready to admit to yourself, let alone to him.

“You can’t keep acting like you don’t care, because I know you do. You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”

The way he said it, so certain, so sure of himself—it made your heart race even faster. 

“Why do you care so much?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Why does it matter?”

He frowned, like you had just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because it matters to me.”

Your chest tightened at that, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him. "I don’t want to get hurt, Rafe."

"I’m not gonna hurt you." His voice was low, serious, like a promise, but you’d heard promises like that before. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. I’m asking for a chance, just one chance. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest tightened as you stared up at him. He was serious. Like, really serious. And you were scared out of your mind because you wanted to believe him so badly. But trusting someone, letting them in? That was terrifying.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, finally admitting it out loud.

“I know,” he murmured, his forehead resting gently against yours. “But I’m scared too, okay? I want to be with you. So, please, just… give us a shot.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your mind racing a hundred miles per hour.

You could still feel his lips on yours, the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down for once. And the truth was, despite all the reasons you’d been telling yourself to walk away, your heart was telling you to stay.

 “Okay.”

His breath caught. “Okay?”

You opened your eyes, “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that stupid, cocky grin, “I won’t. I promise.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead, you found yourself smiling back. 

Maybe this was crazy, maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak or maybe you’d really found yourself a soulmate.

[miley1442111]

navigation :)- requests open !!!

hi, i'm miley, i'm 18 and irish :)

send in requests for anyone from criminal minds, outerbanks, the bear, mcu, challengers, top gun, or hunger games but these are the main people I write for:

aaron hotchner

spencer reid

derek morgan

criminal minds masterlist: masterlist :)

rafe cameron

pope hayward

jj maybank

obx masterlist: masterlist :)

carmen berzatto

sydney adamu

luca (the bear)

the bear masterlist: masterlist :)

finnick odair

peeta mallark

thg masterlist: masterlist :)

robert 'bob' floyd

bradley 'rooster' bradshaw

jake 'hangman' seresin

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miscellaneous fics

art donaldson

mcu masterlist :)

a quiet place masterlist

fics based on the tortured poets department:

tortured poets department masterlist :)

[erwinsvow]

“I want them to like you,” you say, tugging on Rafe’s arm to drag him away from his truck and towards the beach. “I want them to love you.” He’s standing still, feet planted firmly on the pavement. 

You’ve wanted Rafe to meet your friends for the longest time, so much so that it’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about recently. It’s not exactly accurate—he has met them before, many times, actually, but they’ve never been good encounters. You recall a bruise on Pope’s back and JJ’s busted lip, back before they knew Rafe was your boyfriend and he was just public enemy number one.

But things are better now—really, they are. You try to convince yourself all of those incidents are in the past, that everyone’s over it now. You want your friends to like your boyfriend. You want your boyfriend to like your friends. You want it so bad you’re willing to drag Rafe to the beach yourself, if that’s what it takes.

“They can’t stand me,” Rafe replies, scanning the surroundings. He doesn’t like them, but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings either, if they overhear the two of you right now. “Can’t stand them, either, y’know.”

“But you like me, don’t you?” you ask, smiling wide, all cheery and bright. Like he has to tell you again. He rolls his eyes, making you laugh.

“Not at all. What gave y’that stupid idea?” You roll your own pretty eyes in a matching response.

“C’mon, Rafe, look, they’re already here-” you whine, pointing at the giant, junky thing your Pogue friends call a car. He doesn’t let you anywhere near the thing anymore if he can help it—drops you off and picks you up because that thing is a death trap, even more so with one of the stoned idiots driving it. “I don’t wanna be late, so move-” you start pushing at his chest, but he doesn’t give you an inch. 

You huff, hot sun beating down on you, muscles tired from trying to move your entirely too strong boyfriend. 

“Fine,” you finally let out, giving up. “I’ll just go by myself.”

“Good girl. I’ll swing by to get you in a couple hours and then we can go for dinner-”

“Sounds good,” you interrupt, causing Rafe to look at you with an eyebrow raised—you never interrupt him. “I’ll just have Pope put the sunscreen on my back for me. Since you won’t be there.”

“Wait a minute-”

“And JJ’s been dying to teach me how to surf. Y’know, last time I tried though, my top fell off. But I guess it’s no big deal. I bet John B can put it back on for me.”

Rafe thinks he’s mastered the look of not caring sometimes, face blank, eyes showing nothing but mild disturbance. This is not one of those times. You smile, because you can’t help it, watching your boyfriend’s ears turn bright pink, the muscles in his jaw clench, his fist tighten around your pink beach bag.

You put your hand over his, gently, trying to take the bag so you can walk away with it. You’re not sure if your plan worked until he snatches the bag back, hand holding your wrist tightly. 

“Come on, kid,” he mutters, heading in the direction of the beach. “Pain in my ass,” you hear him say quietly, but you feel giddy that he agreed to join you after all. 

Your friends are set up by the water, towels haphazardly thrown on the sand, a case of beer resting in the shade under the umbrella. JJ is waxing his board, Pope is standing next to him, critiquing his method. John has just crushed a beer can down, and chucks it at Kie, who ducks and starts yelling about how inhumane littering is. 

“Hey!” you hear Pope beam, a smile lighting up your face. “Look who’s here-” and Kie joins in with an excited yell, tossing the empty can back at John B and hitting the back of his head. 

“Thought you’d never come back to us now that you’re a fancy Kook girl. Where’s that-” JJ goes silent, watching Rafe walking behind you, staring blankly, looking pissed. “-asshole boyfriend. Nevermind, I found him.”

“I brought Rafe,” you say, a big smile taking over again. You look expectantly at everyone, and then stare until they give you the reaction you want. They mumble hi and hey, Kook, and you turn back to Rafe, taking your bag and figuring out where to put your towels—pink, like the bag, like your bikini. Rafe’s shorts are white, with little pink stripes to match you. 

You both sit down on the sand before you finally offer him the bottle of sunscreen and lay flat on your stomach so he can put it on. He squirts some onto his hands, rubbing them together to spread it out and then first slaps your ass, leaving a sandy, white handprint on the skin. Your body jerks, whining against the towel.

“Had to. Practically asking for it. M’not apologizing,” he says, quiet enough that only the two of you can hear. His hands rub the sunscreen onto your back and arms, but then you decide everything he does is too erotic for public, so you turn back, insisting that’s enough sun protection. You just got here and you don’t want to leave because you can’t resist your boyfriend just yet.

You turn your head, noticing Kie walking towards you with a can of hard seltzer, the fruity kind she knows you prefer. The boys are by the other umbrella, tossing beers at each other. You tug on Rafe’s arm again.

“Why don’t you go get a beer with them. You can talk. It’ll be nice!” 

There’s nothing he’d rather do less. 

“Came here to hang with you, not them,” he says curtly, head resting back on the towel.

“Rafe!” The things he does for you. “Please?” He shouldn’t have looked at you—that was his mistake. Five seconds of your pout and your sincere eyes is enough to make him do whatever you want.

“Five minutes, then I’m coming back. That’s it.”

“Thank you,” you sing sweetly. Kiara comes and settles down next to you. “Is it strawberry? My favorite!” he hears you say, followed by the hiss of you opening the can, as he gets up and stalks towards your friends.

Their conversation dies when Rafe steps up—something he doesn’t like. He could care less about these idiots, but he really doesn’t want you to get caught in the middle of this shit. He can see it already—your pretty face covered in tears, crying because you care too much about him, care too much about your friends.

Rafe knows you’d pick him over them, he just doesn’t want to force you to make that choice.

“What’re you drinking?” he questions. Three pairs of eyes stare at him blankly. A retort bubbles inside him angrily—Stupid and deaf? You losers can’t catch a break, huh? He turns to look at you, hoping you’re in conversation with Kie and sipping your sugary drink. You’re not. You’re staring at the four of them with a hopeful smile.

He swallows the comment and turns with a forced, hard smile. “Beer? That’s great. Toss me one.” Pope does as he says, and then goes back to drinking his own. 

“S’like weird, to see you smile. Didn’t know you could do that,” JJ comments, crushing his own beer can up now that it was empty. Rafe wishes you were here, listening, because-

“What the hell am I supposed to say to that?” John B lets out a laugh at that, Pope joins in. Rafe cracks another smile, they’re pretty goofy, just like you had said. “Nah, I’m just saying, like, didn’t think you could be nice. Must be, if she likes you.”

Rafe turns to look back at you again, quickly. You’re talking to Kie now, head thrown back, laughing. You look prettiest like this, when you’re happy. 

“Yeah, for her.” Then he takes another long chug of the beer, looking back at them. “You idiots don’t make it easy.”

“It’s not easy for us, either,” Pope interjects. “I mean, you did hit me with a golf club.” Rafe runs a hand through his hair, unsure what to say, because he did do that. 

“Yeah, I, uh-” he trails off. “Sorry, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” JJ says.

“All in the past,” John B tacks on. 

It must be several beers later, because you hear the boys laughing and… getting along? You decide to walk over, just to make sure your eyes and ears aren’t deceiving you. The box they had just bought earlier today was filled with the empties, the unmistakable sound of your boyfriend’s laugh filling your ears, your friends all engaged in conversations. You decide to turn back rather than interrupt, giddiness filling your heart that everything worked out. You don’t catch the end of their conversation, already back to your towel and opening another drink with Kie.

“And then I went there,” JJ starts, “-and I was like should I leave, because then her parents might wake up, because I forgot the condom-”

JJ stops to take another sip of the beer, and Rafe cuts him off.

“Wait, you guys use condoms?” 

Three pairs of eyes turn on him.

When you two walk back to his truck a little later, he swings his arm around you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“What was that for?” you ask, happy and tired.

“Yeah, I don’t think they like me much.”

[raspberryslxt]

UNEXPECTED TURNS - PROLOGUE

OBX X TVD FANFICTION

jj maybank x gilbert!reader x rafe cameron

-

The road stretched endlessly before her, the salty tang of the ocean air growing stronger with every passing mile. She hadn’t set foot in the Outer Banks since she was a kid, spending summers with her parents, siblings, and the Camerons. Back then, life had been carefree—beach days, late-night bonfires, and riding bikes with Sarah Cameron until the sun went down. But now? Now, the Outer Banks was a place she was running to, desperate for an escape from Mystic Falls and the memories that refused to let her breathe.

Her parents were gone. That reality hit like a punch to the gut every time she thought about it. Elena was trying to act like things were fine, but her forced optimism only made things worse. Jeremy had shut everyone out entirely. And y/n? She couldn’t keep pretending to hold everything together.

Ward Cameron had offered to take her in when she mentioned returning to the island. He had been one of her dad’s closest friends, and the Camerons had always been like family. Staying with them seemed like the easiest option, even if it meant navigating the complicated dynamic of Ward’s overbearing personality, Rafe’s unpredictable moods, and Sarah’s golden-girl world.

As she pulled up to the sprawling Cameron estate, y/n took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel for a moment before getting out.

The front door swung open almost immediately, and Sarah appeared on the porch, her wide smile a flicker of the summers they used to share.

“Y/n!” Sarah called out, bounding down the steps to greet her. “You’re finally here!”

Y/n smiled despite herself. “Yeah, I made it. Barely. This place looks…huge.”

Sarah grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the house. “Yeah, Dad’s been adding on since you were last here. You’re staying in the guest room, but if Rafe gets annoying, we can kick him out of his and you can move in there.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “Somehow, I don’t think he’d agree to that.”

“Trust me, he wouldn’t have a choice,” Sarah said, leading her inside.

The house was just as overwhelming as y/n remembered—bright, expansive, and luxurious in a way that made her feel small. Ward appeared from the study, his smile wide but his gaze calculating as always.

“Y/n,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s good to see you. You’ve grown up a lot since the last time you were here.”

“Thanks for letting me stay,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Anything for your parents’ daughter.”

Sarah led y/n upstairs to the guest room, chatting the entire way about all the things that had happened since her last visit. But even as Sarah chattered on, y/n couldn’t help but feel a weight in the pit of her stomach. Being here was supposed to be a fresh start, but she couldn’t

[princessbrunette]

Rafe with pregnant reader omg </3 like just waking up in the middle of the night crying cause u can’t get comfortable with the belly and ur too hot and ur already starting to feel queasy like ugh :(( too much. n Rafe jus wakin up and mumbling all sleepy like “c’mere, you’re fine” n questioning u on what u need and then gettin u those things and js calming u down till u fall asleep again. rare soft Rafe ugh I love him

gonna cry…… sniffling all groggy and sleep deprived whining out a “nothing is comfy! i’m just so tired!” and he sits up rubbing his eyes and pulling you to him before he’s even fully awake like “i know, hey i know. you’re alright, kid. m’right here, okay?” his voice all raspy from sleep but he genuinely does feel for u :(( cos if hes suffering from the sleep deprivation and stuff he can’t imagine how you feel ! definitely changes him as a man, he definitely becomes more empathetic after the whole thing :(

thinking about late s2!rafe with you through late stages of your pregnancy, still all boyish with his floppy hair, throwing on a hoodie and driving you around late at night when you can’t sleep because you’re too restless. he’s all quiet behind the wheel, just thinking to himself and focusing on the road as he glances over to you every so often to check if you’re okay :// you fall asleep in the car and he drives over to ward and rose, his dad answering the door in a robe and rafes stood there in a hoodie and pj pants biting his nail whilst you’re asleep in the passenger seat and he’s like “well can you fuckin’ get rose? just don’t really know what to do here, dad. she’s barely sleeping.” and ward has to talk him down :(

shaves his head when you have the baby. thinks it makes him seem more mature, starts dressing like a dad n such. u tell him he doesn’t have to force himself to be different and he says he knows that, it just feels right :)