#rafe cameron x pogue!bartender!reader

[itneverendshere]

all you've got to do is want something and then let yourself have it - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

this is a combination of a few requests: "hella see jj instantly jumping into uncle jay mode when autumn comes (...)  + "she's just so small against rafe and it's halloween where jj and monica and milo come stop by, and she's just so srunchy in her halloween onesie" + "the thought of baby cameron's first holiday being halloween! + thinking of jj having the most random nicknames for autumn that even rafes like what did u just call my daughter (...).

it was halloween—rafe’s first as a dad—and his baby girl, autumn, was just about a month old. his chest swelled with pride every time he looked at her—her little hands, those big blue eyes that still seemed so new to the world.

he'd never understood how people could fall in love so quickly with something so small. but now, looking down at her cute face, he couldn’t help but be consumed by it.

tonight wasn’t just another halloween—it was autumn's first.

rafe was determined to make it special. he'd even set up a few decorations in the living room, hoping to at least start the tradition early. not that she could enjoy it yet, but someday she would.

he heard the familiar chime of a text, swiping open his phone, he grinned at the picture you’d sent to the group chat. there was his baby girl, strapped in her car seat, snug as a bug, with her tiny fists curled up against the pumpkin onesie she was drowning in.

found her a decent costume, guess who’s about to come home! read your message.

he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he replied, i bet she’s ready to see her daddy.

another message popped up from jj, his voice coming through as if he were already in full-on uncle jay mode. he hadn’t even seen the baby for more than a couple minutes, but he was all about claiming his spot in the family.

aw, my sweet little chipmunk must be so excited to see me!

“chipmunk?” rafe mumbled to himself, brows pulling together as he shook his head. that idiot had a nickname for autumn every week since she was born, and every week, they seemed to get more random.

he could picture it now—jj walking in and immediately stealing the kid from his arms, calling her some out-of-nowhere name.

just as he pocketed his phone, he heard the front door swing open.

there you were, his pretty wife with that tired-but-radiant look in your eyes that made him weak in the knees every time, and there was his little girl, her chubby cheeks smushed against the car seat strap, already half-asleep.

“hey, troublemaker,” he whispered to his daughter as he scooped her up, her onesie crinkling as she wiggled and blinked up at him.

rafe had never felt so big as he did when holding her; her whole body fit in his arms like she was meant to be there. the doorbell interrupted their little moment, and rafe smiled to himself.

right on time.

he opened the door to see jj, monica, and milo—the familiar, chaotic crew.

jj was already leaning in for autumn, hands outstretched like she was his to claim. he rushed over, grinning like a kid who’d just won the jackpot. “ohhh, chipmunk’s home!”

“alright, alright, hold on,” rafe grumbled, stepping back. he shook his head, giving jj a warning glance. “dude, she’s barely awake. can you let her at least stay asleep for five minutes?”

“eh, five minutes is all she needs,” jj smirked, taking her from rafe’s arms with ease. “monica always says she’s got my personality—just sleeps through everything.”

monica rolled her eyes. “i never said that. don’t put words in my mouth.”

“come on, rafey, princess fussy butt just needs her uncle.” he shot rafe a wink, then immediately started babbling nonsense to the baby, who blinked at him with that open-mouth stare, like she was trying to understand why everyone thought this dude was so funny.

"what did you just call my daughter?" rafe raised a brow. “princess fussy butt? really, dude?”

maybank just laughed. “better than ‘chipmunk'.”

milo, meanwhile, was tugging at your sleeve, showing you the skeleton costume he’d been wearing all day, rattling off about the latest candy haul he was plotting.

monica glanced over, shaking her head. “if you start with that nickname, she’s going to think it’s her real name by the time she’s two.”

“good,” jj smirked. “she’ll be ready to take on the world by then.”

rafe chuckled, glancing back at his baby, her scrunchy little self bundled in her onesie, eyes already half-shut.

“look at her,” he nodded towards jj, while you rested your head against his bicep.

“it’s her first holiday,” you murmured.

“yeah, and she’s got maniac jj, aunt monica, and the skeleton over there to keep it interesting,” he joked, watching milo comparing candy bars with jj in what looked like a serious negotiation.

he was still cradling autumn, making faces at her and talking to her in a voice that was a little too high-pitched for anyone but a baby. rafe watched from the couch now, his arms wrapped around you as you sat beside him, both of you listening to the holiday mess around you.

“hey, i swear, if she calls him ‘uncle jay’ before she can even say ‘mama’ or ‘dada,’ i’m gonna fucking' lose it,” rafe muttered under his breath to you, nudging your side.

you chuckled, lifting your gaze to meet his. “as long as she doesn’t call him ‘princess fussy butt,’ i think we’re good.”

first holidays were a big deal, but it was more than that.

this halloween was his first as a dad, and it felt like his whole life had changed in the best possible way. you two were building memories now, the kind that would last for years, traditions that he could carry with him and pass down.

milo, now done with his fifth round of candy negotiations with jj, walked over to you two, shaking his head in frustration as he planted himself right beside the couch.

“seriously, you gotta get him to shut up,” he complained, eyeing the blonde as he bounced autumn in his arms, making strange sounds in an attempt to get her to smile, and failing miserably.

rafe snickered, his arm still around you as he pulled you in closer. “what did i tell you, kid? maybank's gotta be himself. we can’t tame him.”

milo raised an eyebrow, then glanced at you, trying to change the subject. “so, can we continue the candy haul now, or…?”

you grinned, happy to let him off the hook. “you’ve been thinking about candy for the last hour, haven’t you?”

milo nodded vigorously. “well, yeah, but only because jay’s been ignoring me. i’m on a mission. i need your professional opinion on my stash.”

you shot a glance at rafe, who was trying to hide his amusement. “looks like milo’s ready to be your candy mentor,” you teased.

he shrugged. “i don’t know, man. i might’ve been planning to steal some of his stash later.” he winked at milo, who, despite being ten, was wise enough to know when they were messing around.

“i need your help to make sure i got the best stuff this year. it’s a whole strategic thing, okay?” he leaned in close, as if he were about to reveal some secret mission. “the candy’s gotta be in prime condition.”

you raised an eyebrow. “so, you’ve got it all laid out?”

“oh, you bet,” milo said, reaching for the plastic pumpkin bucket beside him. he held it up with a dramatic flourish, as if he were presenting treasure. “operation candy haul is a success.”

rafe nodded, “what do you need from us?”

milo went into full-on candy expert mode. “okay, here’s the rundown. first, we’ve got your classics—snickers, m&ms, twix. but then there’s the premium section—reese’s, kit-kats, and my personal favorite, the milky ways.” he paused, looking at you seriously. “you have got to help me sort this. we need an unbiased opinion.”

you tried not to chuckle at his intensity. “you’re taking this a little seriously for someone who’s only ten.”

“well, i’m not ten anymore,” he said matter-of-factly. “i’m, like, ten and a half now. that’s practically a teenager.”

“i’ll give you that,” rafe said with a grin, as you smothered a laugh. “so what’s next on your list, teenager milo?”

“for the final test, you’ve gotta rank the ones that have the most chocolate-to-nougat ratio. i’ll leave that to you.” milo said, clearly trusting rafe’s opinion on these serious matters.

“you’ve got it,” rafe replied, pretending to think deeply. “the most chocolate-to-nougat ratio… now that’s a crucial step. can’t mess with the classics, kid.”

“exactly!” milo nodded, looking up at you. “we need to do a double-check of his candy haul. make sure the ratios are balanced.”

you pretended to ponder it, peeking at the candy bucket with exaggerated seriousness. “okay, you’ve convinced me. i’m in.”

you turned to rafe, who was already pulling a few pieces of candy from the pile, ready to play along. jj, still holding autumn, caught wind of what was happening and walked over with a dramatic sigh.

“what’s going on here? i hear talk of candy, and i need in.”

“too late,” milo said, grinning at him like he’d won a major victory. “i’m running this operation now.”

jj, not one to be outdone, threw a playful scowl at him. “when did you start talking back?”

as you and rafe dove into the candy sorting, a tiny whimper broke the festive ambience. everyone paused, glancing over to where jj was still cradling autumn and her face had gone from sleepy to fussy in seconds, her lips wobbling as her eyes squeezed shut.

“oh no, no, no...” jj muttered, bouncing her a little too enthusiastically, trying to avoid the inevitable meltdown. “come on, chipmunk, we’re just getting started here—don’t bail on me now.”

her hands clenched, and then came the wail—a high-pitched, all-out baby cry that instantly turned heads, her tiny face was scrunched, cheeks red, and her lungs proving just how powerful they were for someone so small.

“oh, jj,” you sighed, moving to take her, but rafe was already up, a smile spreading across his face as he reached for her.

“alright, alright, time’s up,” rafe said, easing her from jj’s arms. he held her close, gently rocking her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her tiny back. “hey, sweet girl,” he murmured softly, his voice dropping into that warm, gentle tone reserved just for her. “shh, it’s okay.”

as if by magic, her cries began to ease, her little body relaxing against rafe as she blinked up at him, still sniffling but calming with each second. she reached a tiny hand up, clutching onto his sweater.

jj put his hands on his hips, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “see that? kid won’t cry for anyone else. i think i’m losing my charm.”

rafe smirked, not looking up from his daughter, “told you, maybank. you gotta have the touch.”

you leaned into him as he sat back down, resting your chin on his shoulder as you watched her settle, her wide eyes blinking up at you both, taking in the world from the safe haven of her dad’s arms.

the blonde grinned, putting a hand on his heart in mock sadness. “well, fine then. guess she’s got her favorites.”

monica elbowed him, rolling her eyes, “they made her, you idiot.”

“ew.” he gave you and rafe a teasing side-eye, earning a good-natured smack from your sister.

autumn, oblivious to all the drama, had already snuggled back into her dad’s chest, letting out a sleepy sigh. rafe’s face softened as he looked down at her, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her back.

halloween had never felt more complete, and as you looked at your husband holding your daughter, you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

[itneverendshere]

jj and pope at rafe’s x bartender!reader wedding🙂‍↕️☝🏼 it’s canon

my boys

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 14

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

Rafe's gonna handle it.

But it isn't easy. His head is volatile and loud, screaming for him to choose a direction that seems intangible and difficult to comprehend. It also doesn't help that his anger simmers beneath his skin at the idea of meeting the person who terrified and threatened you. He doesn't know what he will do, but he promised you he won't take it too far.

All Rafe knows is that he can't do it alone.

"I need your help," Rafe announces with great unwillingness, just as JJ's about to turn his back to him. It wasn't a stroke of luck that Rafe happened to be at the Island Club, at the right time, sitting in JJ's section. But, JJ, despite his obligation to serve as a paying member of the exclusive club, wanted nothing more than to evade his duties to the Kook.

Until he spoke, of course.

It takes a second, then another, before the admission registers and JJ turns around. "What?"

Rafe stands from his table, and curious patrons at nearby tables watch the exchange between them. It isn't a secret that JJ and Rafe have a bitter rivalry, elevated by differing social classes and longstanding resentment that transcends their own lifetimes. It also isn't a secret that whenever these two are in close quarters, more often than not, their conversations end in fists.

But, as much as Rafe has adrenaline coursing through his veins and tension stiffening his shoulders that he would love to find an outlet for release, he didn't come here for a fight. Not with JJ, at least.

"You know where Aaron lives, don't you?"

JJ blinks at the Kook, suspicion shadowing his features as he takes his time before answering. "What about it?"

"I—" Rafe clenches his jaw, trying to soothe out his ego. "I need a favor."

"For what?"

"Are you fucking dense, Maybank?" Rafe snaps, his capacity for meandering questions reaching its all-time limit. It doesn't help that, typically, in these situations, Rafe tries to calm his nerves with his vices beforehand. But he can't. He has to do it unbearably sober. Gritting out, "What do you think?"

JJ narrows his eyes at Rafe, his own hands clenched by his side. Despite what the rest of Kildare believes, JJ isn't as stupid as people make him out to be. He simply didn't trust Rafe. Didn't understand his intent. Half of him is convinced that Rafe is in cahoots with Aaron because he knows this circles back to you and your bar.

It had to be about the note JJ collected that warned about Aaron's threat. JJ's concern with it was because of Sailor's ancestry. It's an institution for the Pogues; decades of families and tourists visiting the place to landmark what a great treasure it is to Outer Banks. It means absolutely nothing to Rafe.

Except for you.

Slowly, but surely, the corner of JJ's mouth curves into a knowing smirk, and Rafe catches the arrogant expression. Before JJ can open his mouth and instigate an actual fight, Rafe cuts him off. "Can you help me out or not?"

Normally, under any other circumstances, JJ would laugh in Rafe's face and walk away. It would serve as great ammunition against the Kook prince and his divine reign. But this concerns you. The person who took care of him growing up, who patched him up, who served as a beacon of safety for his troubles. If that means working with Rafe, JJ can do it.

"I can," JJ nods, before glancing at the clock hung over the oceanfront exit of the restaurant. "After my shift. I'll show you."

—

Truth be told, Rafe could've gone alone.

It wasn't improbable for him to discover the address of Aaron without JJ's help. He's resourceful, and with enough time, he would find it. But it was the fact that he didn't trust himself to go. He didn't know what he was going to do, what he was going to say, or how he was going to react. All he knows is his mind feels linear, sharp, and honed down to one single mission: pay your debts and be done with it.

It didn't matter the steps he'd take to get there.

"Are we going or what?"

JJ sits in the passenger seat of Rafe's parked car, the headlights turned off while they sit hidden from view. For the duration of the ride, Rafe had calmed down enough to steady his movements, take the wheel, and follow JJ's directions.

But, if Rafe lets himself think, and be reminded of how Aaron hurt you, frightened you, and nearly destroyed you, a cloud of red distorts his vision and guides his hand.

He doesn't answer JJ, staring out the dark window to discern the dark silhouette of Aaron sitting out in his yard, smoking a cigarette. His hands clenched in his lap, and when JJ repeats his previous question, this time, Rafe answers by going to the waistband of his pants and pulling out his gun.

"Woah, Rafe—" JJ holds both hands in the air, eyeing the lethal weapon as Rafe sets it on the dashboard.

"You take it."

JJ says nothing, studying Rafe's expression before cautiously picking up the gun and securing it. It goes unspoken, of course, but JJ understands what Rafe asks of him.

He turns back to Rafe. "How are we gonna confront him?"

"Follow my lead."

With a click of the car's door, Rafe steps out with JJ. He inhales a sharp breath before approaching the idle figure sitting on a lawn chair in front of his trailer, a bored-yet-curious look stretches across his face.

"Who are you?" Aaron asks, snuffing his cigarette on the ground before glancing behind Rafe to find JJ. "Hey, JJ. Here to bail out your old man again?"

JJ scoffs but says nothing. Aaron's gaze returns to Rafe. "I asked you a question. Who are you?"

Rafe doesn't want to answer, to give Aaron any sense of satisfaction of knowing his name. He doesn't know what he had expected—perhaps someone who used their fists more than their words and looked like they could follow through with their threats��but Aaron doesn't meet those expectations. All he sees is someone sleazy lowlife who deserves nothing of his time and efforts.

Going to the back of his pockets, Rafe pulls out a wad of cash and throws it to Aaron's feet.

"What's this?" Aaron bends down to pick up the money, leafing through the paper to determine its legitimacy. And he chuckles. "Okay, Moneybags, what is this?"

"To pay back a debt," Rafe answers. He can't believe how steady his voice sounds. He goes on to explain it's for you—to cover the cost of your remaining loans, and for Aaron to finally leave you alone.

When Rafe finishes his declaration, the loan shark takes a moment to process the information before a derisive smile spreads across his face. "She's got a Kook paying for her shit? Gotta say that's impressive, even for her."

"Shut up," Rafe warns, but Aaron appears unfazed by the threat. He merely stands from his chair, meeting Rafe's stare head-on, deciding to provoke further.

"To be honest, I didn't think she would be able to do it," Aaron clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval. "Thought I had to burn down her bar to teach her a lesson."

Red-hot anger pulses through Rafe's veins, and his hands ache for a brawl. But he doesn't give in. Clarity still resides in his mind, telling him that he doesn't need to resort to violence. All he needs is to be done with this scumbag.

"That's all she owed you," Rafe spat. "And that means you'll leave her alone. Now and forever."

"Aw," Aaron mocks, playing a hand over his chest. "Her big bad protector comes in the form of Rafe Cameron," he raises a brow at the subtle shock on Rafe's face. "Thought I didn't recognize you, Moneybags? Your daddy must be proud you're funding a charity case from the Cut."

"Shut the fuck up," Rafe growls, stepping forward, but JJ's quick. He grabs a hold of Rafe's elbow, reminding him that it's not worth it. Clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring, Rafe reluctantly admits JJ is right.

He holds out one of his hands. "Give me back her necklace."

Aaron rolls his eyes, going into his pocket to pull out the chain and drop it into Rafe's palm.

"It's pathetic, you know," Aaron says as the pendant lands on Rafe's hand. "You going around and doing her bidding like a little bitch. Is fucking her that good that she has you in a chokehold?"

Grinding his teeth, Rafe meets his stare head-on. "It's better than being a little pussy who hides behind threats to feel important."

Rafe offers nothing more than a mocking grin in return, twisting around to head back to his car. JJ has his hand on Rafe's shoulder, guiding him, and Rafe is surprised at how he managed to leave the interaction unscathed.

Until Aaron decides to open his mouth one last time.

"Tell your little girlfriend that if she needs another loan, I'll be here, and next time, I'll even let her pay with her cunt," he laughs, and that's the final straw that made Rafe snap.

Before JJ can stop him, Rafe suddenly turns and swings at Aaron's jaw. The scumbag stumbles back, catching his face but, before he can recover, Rafe tackles him into the ground, delivering punch after punch until Aaron is nothing but a bloody pulp.

His rage is burning, his fury bleeding into each strike, and Rafe no longer cares. He's gone off the deep end, delivering violent justice to make up for the fact that Aaron has done nothing but terrorize you. Red glazes his vision until it starts to stain his knuckles and shirt too.

But Aaron is strong too. He manages to throw a hit of his own, splitting Rafe's bottom lip. They're wrestling on the filthy earth until somehow Aaron manages to produce a knife and puts it against Rafe's throat.

Harsh breaths turn to swallow as Rafe feels the cool blade digging into his skin.

"You think you're hot shit, Moneybags?" Aaron spats, his eyes wild. "You think you scare me?"

Rafe says nothing. He doesn't know what to do next. It's a dangerous situation he's in, the knife buried into the knot of his throat. But before he can formulate a plan, the familiar click of a gun sounds.

"Get the fuck off of him."

Aaron stills, the barrel of the weapon pressed against the back of his skull immobilizing every muscle. JJ roughly grabs his shoulder, hauling him off Rafe, and allowing the Kook to get on his feet.

"We're done," JJ declares firmly, the gun remains against the back of Aaron's head. "Do you hear me?"

Aaron nods, and slowly, JJ lowers the weapon. But that wasn't enough for Rafe. Snatching the gun out of JJ's hand, without a second thought, he fires—the sharp bullet piercing into Aaron's left arm, sending him tumbling back.

JJ shouts something indistinguishable at Rafe but he hears nothing but the harsh thumps of his own breaths. He steps forward, while Aaron grimaces in pain, clutching his bleeding shoulder, and points the gun right at the center of his chest—where he had mocked Rafe moments ago.

"You won't do it," Aaron grunts tauntily, still trying to cling to any last ounce of power he has left. "You're not that crazy."

"You wanna bet?" Rafe warns in a deadly calm. "Don't talk about her, don't contact her, and don't even think about her, because if I ever hear you causing her any more problems, I'll fucking kill you."

Lowering the gun, Rafe marches over to his car with nothing but the buzzing of his skin. He can't think of anything else; residual adrenaline courses through his veins like an electric current, sending his emotions haywire. And when JJ asks for the car keys—seeing Rafe unfit to drive—he hands them off without hesitation.

Inside the passenger seat, Rafe's hands are trembling. JJ glances from the corner of his peripheral but doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls out in reverse before shifting the gears into drive.

Rafe doesn't ask where they're going, concentrating on recounting the details of his memories. The blood, the bullet, and how the act he committed feels completely out of his realm—out of his head. He doesn't know what to feel.

The ride is eerily silent. JJ keeps sparing glances over to Rafe, but he's too numbed out to acknowledge any of them. When Rafe finally gains the ability to speak, he asks JJ where he's driving them. JJ answers vaguely, "You'll see."

By the time the car rolls to a slow stop, the familiar bar comes into view. The flickering neon lights welcome with an OPEN sign, and JJ kills the engine. He turns to Rafe, cautiously taking the gun back, and dropping it into the center console with the safety on.

They say nothing as they step into the bar. You're standing behind the counter, lifting your head when the little bell alerts new customers, only to discover the duo standing in the middle of the walkway. One of your brows raises at the odd pairing.

"Fuck. I need a drink," JJ announces, dropping the car keys on the table before steering behind the counter to grab a bottle. Your eyes follow JJ's movements with amusement until they return to Rafe.

He takes a seat at one of your bar stools, remaining quiet. Nothing in his head feels right, like he's in a dream state he doesn't know how to wake up from. You eye the fresh cut on Rafe's bottom lip and, unable to gauge what type of consolation you should give, decide to comfort him with one of his vices.

Pouring out a glass, you hand it over the counter. "Need a drink?"

He shakes his head.

"Need you," Rafe sets the drink down and grabs your hand, leading you out from behind the bar before stealing a kiss. He pulls you onto his lap, needing to close the distance, while roughened scraps of his callouses skim across your cheeks.

Rafe's kiss is depraved, clinging to you like you're the last breath of air. Like you're the only thing that grounds him. It's tangy and metallic, tasting his cut, which only adds to the delirium of his state and how desperate he is for you. One of his hands falls to your hips, while the other clings to your face.

He needs this. Needs you. Rafe's restraining himself from taking more than you can handle, and when you pull away, breathless, you press your forehead against his.

"Are you okay?" You whisper.

No, but he doesn't want to tell you that. With the brush of his knuckles across your cheek, feeling the warm heat of your flushed skin, he rasps. "Now I am."

"What happened?" You ask, capturing his hand into yours, grazing the blood that stained his knuckles. Some of his skin is split, but most of them seem to be from somewhere else. "Did you kill someone?"

Rafe's jaw tightens. He doesn't want to scare you with what he's done. He doesn't want you to look at him differently. When he pulls his hand away from your grip, afraid of tainting you, it takes a moment before he speaks. "I went to see Aaron."

Your easygoing smile drops and your shoulders stiffen. Withdrawing slightly, you examine Rafe from the waist up, picking up the specks of dark red covering his shirt, the trail of dried blood down his arms, and the nasty yellowing bruise that lines his jaw. "Holy fuck," you breathe, roaming your hands over his body, checking for damages. "You're bleeding."

"I'm fine,"

"You're bleeding," you repeat, tipping Rafe's head back to examine a small puncture wound at the column of his throat, running your fingers over the nick to discover the scab. You attempt to get off his lap, "Rafe—"

He catches your elbow, stilling your movements and your gaze rises to meet his. His eyes are dark, like a storm over an ocean, but there's tenderness when he looks at you. "It's not all my blood."

A beat passes before you ask. "What did you do?"

At first, Rafe detects disapproval, making him want to recoil and shut down. But, upon closer inspection of your features—the way your brows pull together and your eyes soften with indescribable warmth—he recognizes it to be concern. For him.

With that revelation, he squeezes your hips comfortingly. "Nothing I didn't promise."

You don't know what to make with that. Hesitatingly, you hold your breath before deciding to ask the next question. "Did you kill him?"

"I should've,"

"But you didn't," you say, recognizing the extent of what Rafe will do for you. It's terrifying to wield such a power. "...Right?"

"Right." He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief. You didn't want him to get in trouble because of you, potentially going to prison. You need him too much.

JJ, witnessing the intimate interaction, decides it's time for him to go. Carrying a bottle in his arms, he's about to silently slip out of the bar when Rafe catches the blurring movements and calls after him.

JJ freezes.

Rafe didn't forget about how JJ had his back at Aaron's. How everything could've ended a lot differently had the Pogue not been there. But, he didn't know what to say. There's still a bitter rivalry between them, and he doesn't necessarily enjoy JJ's close relationship with you. But there's an understanding. With begrudging respect, "Thanks."

It surprises both you and JJ and he doesn't know how to take it. But JJ isn't dumb. With one parting glance in your direction, seeing you in capable and powerful hands that'll do anything to protect you, he nods once. "Anytime."

When JJ slips out, you stare at Rafe in disbelief. His eyes return to your face, as you raise a confused brow. "What's that for?"

"Nothing," Rafe shakes his head, pulling you in for another kiss when you slip off his lap. He grabs your arm. "Where are you going?"

"I need to clean you up."

He doesn't want you to go. "I don't need that."

"Rafe, you're bleeding," you declare, gesturing to his face, "I'll be right back."

With great reluctance, he lets you go. Moments later, you return with a box of first aid and set it on the counter before returning to his lap. Disinfecting the cut on his throat, you patch up the wound before moving to his jaw and lips.

Rafe watches you as you work. Your touch is gentle, and your eyes are concentrated. When you catch him staring, you lift your gaze to his, a shy smile spreading over your lips. "What?"

"Just waiting for you to finish so I can kiss you," he confesses, his hands roaming up and down your waist in impatient strokes. He needs to feel you again to ground him.

You tilt your head teasingly. "Is kissing me more important than taking care of yourself?"

"Clearly." He declares as if the answer is obvious. It makes your stomach flutter, cheeks warming with heat.

You return to tending his jaw, but Rafe can't wait any longer. Roughly, he pushes your hands away and pulls you in for another desperate kiss, capturing the nape of your neck as he practically devours you.

"Rafe—" You part to breathe.

"Need you," he repeats, just as anguished and desperate as before. "Stop taking care of me and let me have you."

You don't have a second say before he recaptures your lips, sliding his tongue into your open mouth. His touch is hungry, exploring every inch of bare skin until he goes under your shirt to pull down your bra and find the sensitive flesh of your breasts.

Raw, and full of passion, you're reminded of the times when Rafe needed to fuck you to channel his aggression into something productive. You don't know exactly what happened with Aaron, only that it's over and you want to offer him refuge in any way possible.

But Rafe is much tamer than before. He's careful not to hurt you, not to play too rough. When he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, his breathing is heavy but his words are firm.

"I'm not fucking you in a bar."

This surprises you.

"You weren't complaining when you fucked me in a dressing room," you whisper sultrily, planting kisses along the curve of his neck. "Or in the bathroom."

His jaw tightens with declining restraint. "That was different."

"How different?"

"I'm... I'm trying to treat you better."

You don't want him to. At least, not during sex. You want it rough, dirty, and filthy. This side of Rafe cosplaying as a saint feels wrong—especially when you know he's nothing but the devil. But you're fine with it. You need it.

"Maybe you shouldn't," you say, moving to the shell of his ear. "Maybe I want you to treat me like your own personal slut."

Rafe groans, his resolve cracking, and he stands from the stool. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you to his car, throwing the door wide open to throw you inside the backseat.

He slams you against the back of the driver's seat, your legs straddling Rafe while he kisses you urgently. His hands grab at your body, unhooking your bra with a soft click and breaking the kiss only for you to shed your clothes.

Your core pulses with need; the open spread of your legs allows you to feel his hard erection, separated by a thin pair of panties and his jeans. You need it off.

Rafe trails his kisses down the curve of your neck, and you tip your head back with a soft moan, his hands fall under your skirt and between your legs. Long fingers brush against your panties, discovering the wet patch.

"Are you this wet for me?" He murmurs against the heat of your shoulders, his fingers teasing your core with your slick but refusing to slip in.

You let out a little whimper. "Hm,"

"You want me to do something about it?"

You nod desperately, a hand falling between your legs to guide him closer to your cunt, but Rafe pulls back. In one swipe, he snatches your wrist in one hand and pins them above your head, against the headrest of the driver's seat.

"Don't touch," he warns thickly, his dark eyes meeting yours and heat exploding in your stomach, your pussy aching to wrap around something.

"Please," you beg, and Rafe grins wickedly. Pushing your panties to the side, he thrusts two fingers in. Slowly, at first, to test your walls, until his penetration comes with a steady—but increasing—rhythm.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, just as Rafe captures you in another lustful kiss. Your wrists strain from the bound, but you love how you're held captive—physically and emotionally—to be controlled by his will. His fingers go faster, adding his thumb to rub your swollen clit as he swallows all the noises.

Rafe separates, kissing an arrow straight down your breasts before covering a pierced nipple. His teeth tugs the barbell, causing a whimper to add to your moans, elevated by the high you feel approaching with the slight twinge of pain.

"Come for me, baby," Rafe rasps, his voice vibrating off your skin, as he feels you fluttering around his fingers. His teeth pulls on your nipple, heightening your sensitivity and pushing you over the edge. You reach your orgasm on his hands, and Rafe guides you through the process by fucking you harder—through the tightening of your walls—making you mewl with pleasure.

Pulling out his slick-covered fingers, he pushes them between your teeth, hard eyes demanding you to lick them clean.

You do, not breaking a second of eye contact, and when Rafe retracts his fingers from your mouth, using the same hand, he cups your cheeks roughly.

You drive him wild, with the way you're so obedient, but with his face right in front of yours, just a breath away, he doesn't kiss you for reward. Instead, his words come low, in a warning and promise, "Fucking mine."

"Yours," you admit, and Rafe swallows hard.

His hands clench and unclench by his side, but he doesn't make a move to take off his pants, his bulge prominent as an outline under his jeans. Your eyes drop to it, licking your lips, and teasingly ask, "Are you going to do something about that?"

Rafe locks his jaw, teeth grinding against one another, before he follows your line of vision. Conflicted, Rafe doesn't know if he can be inside you, to fuck you, and you come to the dawning realization that Rafe's holding back.

"I'll help." You add in a whisper. "Let me feel you."

He doesn't know if he can handle it, but with the pleading look in your eyes, and the way your lips part, he breaks another one of his constraints and releases your wrists.

"Turn around."

You quickly listen, and Rafe unbuckles his belt to remove his pants and boxer-briefs, throwing them to the floor of his car. With all barriers removed, he hauls you back onto his lap, his hard cock pressed against the small of your back.

You feel a bit of his pre-cum leaking onto your backside, but Rafe makes no urgent moves to be inside you. You squirm, needing contact, but Rafe grabs your hips to still your movements.

"I don't want you touching yourself," Rafe murmurs against the shell of your ear, the lack of eye contact heightens your nerves to feel every sharp motion, every breath of air, as some form of action. "Do you hear me?"

"I won't," you promise, your cunt clenching around nothing with the idea of Rafe entering you soon. You shift closer to his cock, feeling the thick girth on you.

Rafe tsks. "I don't know if I believe you,"

"Believe me," you beg.

"Put your hands above your head," Rafe commands, and you obey. You reach towards the roof of the car as Rafe's strong arms—still stained with traces of blood—cages you in. He adjusts the headrest of the seat before you, widening the gap. Grabbing your wrists, he slotting them inside and slams the headrest down, locking you in place. "Now, you can't."

You wiggle your hands, but it's completely trapped. It makes your heart hammers with exhilaration, knowing you're at Rafe's disposal.

His hands wander over your backside, fingers tracing patterns over your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine at his feather-light touches. It's teasing, drawing out the seconds, and you sit in the weight of your exposure until you're left with nothing but burning desire.

Anticipation climbs up your chest as Rafe withdraws his hands, his warmth, and before you can utter a whine, something cold covers your collarbone. You look down to discover the necklace—the one Aaron took away from you—back around your throat, the R glistening with possession.

"You got it back," you say quietly, your stomach fluttering with pride.

"I got it back," he confirms, rescinding his hands. Again.

It's such a push and pull. You almost groan out of despair, needing him to do something, but he remains distant. Despite the absolute control, having everything he's ever wanted from you—your submission, you being completely his—Rafe is still holding back. His touch second-guessed, his conflict evident.

He doesn't trust himself.

It twists and buries you with need.

"Rafe," you breathe, but he doesn't do anything. "Rafe."

"All this fucking begging," Rafe grabs your chin, forcing your head to the side to meet his hardened gaze. "What?"

Your eyes scan over his features, the hard lines of his face, the discipline he carries behind his gaze. Everything is still within bounds. "Let go." You whisper. His jaw ticks. "Use me."

"You don't understand what you're asking for."

"I trust you," you murmur, closing the distance until his shallow breaths fan against your cheeks. "Let go for me."

Finally, his last chain of restraint snaps, and primal instinct takes over. Rafe tightens his hand around your jaw, pulling you into a rough kiss, only for you to reciprocate with the same ferocity, the same burning needs.

When he pulls away, you bite down on his bottom lip, tugging out the flesh until you taste a tangy metallic on your tongue.

"Use you?" He repeats, as a last line of defense. He's giving you one last chance to back down.

"Use me."

"All mine?"

"All yours."

Rafe releases your face and grabs your hips, lifting them in the air before dropping you on his cock, buried to the hilt. A guttural groan escapes his lips, and his hands remain securely around the fat of your hips, bouncing you up and down his lap.

Sensitivity courses through your veins, as Rafe uses you for his own pleasure. His aggression channels into how fast and vigorously he forces you to bounce, making the backside of your thighs burn.

He watches, as his cock slips in and out of your cunt, each time like the first. "Fuck, sweetheart," Rafe moans with pleasure, your walls fluttering around him. "You're so fucking tight for me."

"I'm so sensitive," you mumble, balling your hands into tight fists as you're trying hard to control yourself. You can't move, only up and down, and the lack of mobility makes you feel everything more. "Rafe."

"Keep saying my name, baby," Rafe demands, one of his hands coming up to grab a handful of your breast. "Remind yourself who's dick you're riding."

Rafe fucks you hard, allowing you to feel everything single twitch of his cock until the familiar heat blooms in your stomach and tightens. Your orgasm is on the horizon, you're certain Rafe is closely behind as your walls grip him in a tight vice.

"Fuck," he swears, making you go faster, the sounds of your cunt squelching with wetness. "Come on, come with me, baby."

You do, moaning wildly as you come for a second time, feeling Rafe's hot ropes of cum fills you. Your breathing is hard, coming down from this high, but Rafe doesn't let you take a second to break.

He unlatches the headrest, freeing your hands, but within seconds, he flips you over, forcing your face into the leather seats as your ass is positioned in the air.

Rafe positions himself behind you, grabbing a handful of your ass as the other strokes his hardening cock, readying for a second round. You're breathing heavily, trying to gather enough strength to pull yourself by your arms, but as you attempt, Rafe had other plans.

The crown of his cock lines against your entrance, his fingers stroking through your wet folds and, with little warning, slams into you. It makes you fall back onto your face, digging into the leather as Rafe roughly thrusts inside of you.

"Ohmygod," you murmur, delirious with overstimulated pleasure, needing a second to breathe, but Rafe allows none. You granted him permission to use you, to fuck you, and he's using it to his fullest power.

Everything is sensitive. All the nerves inside you are heightened to a frayed state, needing time to recover, but Rafe goes at a relentless pace. His rhythm is reinvigorated, going harder, faster, and more brutal than before.

"Rafe, Rafe," you moan, writhing with pleasure that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and Rafe's hand falls between the space of your legs, massaging the swollen nub. "I'm going to come again."

"Already?" He laughs tauntingly, "You truly are my little slut, aren't you?"

"Rafe," you whine.

"Say it,"

"Rafe, please,"

He abandons your clit to grab your throat, hauling you upwards by the limbs. Your breathing is constricted by the hard grip, shallowly taking in air, as Rafe murmurs hotly into your ear. "Fucking say it."

"I'm your slut," you concede, and you can feel the mischievous grin spreading across his face as he goes faster. "God, fuck, I'm your anything."

Rafe kisses behind your ear, mumbling, "Good girl," before thrusting deeper. He's hitting everything, bullying your cervix until you're seeing stars, and a third orgasm tips out of your body with a scream.

Yet he still doesn't stop.

He fucks you through this orgasm, with your legs shaking and your body trembling from overpowering until he comes inside you again. He fills you completely, not letting a single drop go to waste, and when he finally pulls out, his cum drips down your thighs.

You slump against the seat, needing space, but Rafe still has yet to let you go. He hauls you back to your knees and slots you between his legs, your back leaning against his chest.

Both of you catch your breaths, harsh breathing fills the air alongside the smell of sex. No one moves, exhaustion fills both your bones, until Rafe drapes one of his arms across your stomach, pulling you in protectively.

You, with your last bit of energy left, lift your head to meet Rafe's gaze. He's calmer, more at peace than before, and all the weight on his shoulders completely dissolves. With a small, tiresome smile, you ask, "I have one more thing to ask you."

He lifts a brow.

"Can you take us home?"

A small smile rises at the corner of his lips. Us, he hears. He likes the sound of that.

He nods, and with one last parting kiss on your forehead, Rafe gets dressed and takes you home.

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Navigation — Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

[maybanksprincess]

im your baby

WARNINGS: a little angsty, fluff towards the end, cussing, mentions of sophia, insecurity, reassurance, alcohol consumption, suggestive-ish, mentions of marriage.

lias note — requested by my lovely mootie @rafenroostersgirl, this ask was so amazing and I loved writing about it! im not the best at angst so please excuse any mistakes :( thank you so much for the request. go read her ask here!

pairings: crybaby!reader x rafe cameron

Rafe came to the bar to get a little tipsy and forget about his problems for a while. Ward had been up his ass for what felt like the longest, he had plenty of contracts at home waiting for him to sign, lots of business deals to seal, and on top of everything, he had to deal with your clinginess.

It was very often that you'd get clingy and always want to be around him, but he was a busy man, he'd never dealt with anyone wanting to cling to him, so it was difficult to adjust to. He was used to always being alone, or too busy to think about anything else but what he was working on.

This whole relationship thing was new to him, so naturally he isn't a very touchy-feely guy, and wants his own space, but you were the exact opposite. You always wanted hugs or attention, constantly pulling on his arm or clinging to his side.

he was honestly used to hooking up with girls and leaving the second after, until he met you. Something about you struck his interest, something he couldn't ignore. But geez, no one told him how exhausting it was to have a girlfriend.

On top of everything, he would get strange glances, and cruel words spread over the island about him all because he's dating a Pogue. no kook dates a Pogue. Out of everyone on the island, you'd sort of figure Rafe would be the one to be telling someone else that. But no, he was actually the one in love with a Pogue. Someone who came from the cut. How embarrassing for him....

as he's lost in his thoughts, he's suddenly interrupted by a sweet voice coming from behind the counter. He puts his drink down on the table, his movements slightly sluggish from the bit of alcohol he'd already consumed. he tilts his head up to look at her, taking in her toothy smile, and bartender uniform that she has on.

his thoughts are interrupted once more when she looks down at him, speaking softly "are you okay?" she asks, with a gentle and concerned look, while whipping up a drink for another customer sat at the bar.

he nods his head vigorously, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. he peels his eyes back open and look up at her behind the counter, "yeah 'm fine. jus' a real shitty night." he says, lifting the cup back to his lips.

she tilts her head, gently trying to press the issue, seeing that he was stressed and upset. "Do you want to talk about it?" she says, picking up the cleaning supplies for the counter. his eyes study her, watching as she cleans off the counter, his pupils dilated.

he ponders on the question in his drunken mind for a moment before replying, his words slightly slurred. "yeah, yeah. can i get another one of these though?" he says, raising his glass.

she nods, grabbing the glass out of his shaky hand, pouring the alcohol into it, waiting for him to speak when he's ready. after a few moments, the buzzed blonde lifts his head again, looking up at her.

"My girlfriend, she's just so annoying..." he starts, "I mean she always wants to be next to me, huggin' me and shit." he says, waving his hand and rolling his eyes. he snatches the half empty glass, bringing it to his lips once more, taking a long sip, his words slurred, and voice unsteady.

he swallows the liquid with a loud gulp, turning to narrow his eyes at the brunette once more. "im not used t' that, y'know? its all new to me..." he says, a hint of vulnerability behind his words.

---

Rafe had been ignoring you for a few days now, figuring out ways to end the conversation faster, trying to avoid your affectionate gestures, staying out later, being too busy with work to hangout, it was starting to make you feel like he was seeing someone else.

you looked at his shared location, driving to the location it showed to you. taking a deep breath, you step out of the car, entering the crowded bar. you fiddle with your hands shyly as you walk around to find the buzzed man.

When you finally spotted him, you almost felt relieved, until you saw him talking to the pretty brunette behind the counter, her smile making your insides churn. You came to a halt, hesitating for a moment, before continuing to walk over to him.

you reach out with shaky hands, tapping his shoulder softly, the familiar feeling of the tears starting to form in your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

He sees the tears forming in your eyes and he immediately feels a sense of protectiveness and guilt, pulling you to his broad chest, giving you a hug the best he can in his drunken state. he knows better than to say anything, so he waits for you to speak.

"Are you seeing someone else?" you hiccup through the tears, not daring to bring your head away from his chest, soaking his shirt with your salty tears. he shushes you softly, cradling your head like you were the most precious baby in the world.

"no, no, no, hey, 'm not cheating." he slurs, the strong scent of alcohol on his breath making your nose turn up in disgust, but he doesnt seem to realize.

the tears continue to spill looking from him to the lady pouring drinks for people, silently sizing her up, figuring out how she was better than you. Rafe grabs your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head so he can look you straight in the eye.

even if he was drunk, he really loved you and he wouldn't cheat. no matter how sensitive, clingy, impatient, and poor you were, he knew who his girlfriend was. And for you he was willing to try and change his ways.

he grabs your hand in his bigger one, intertwining his fingers with yours, leading you out of the bar and to his car that costed more than your life.

he cups your cheek in his large hand, the coolness of his ring hitting your damp skin as he looks down at you with soft, vulnerable eyes that are reserved for only you. "Baby you gotta believe me when I say I only want you." he pleads, using the pads of both his thumbs to wipe your tears away.

you sniffle and nod, soaking up his reassurances, and leaning into his soft touches. you knew despite rafe's rough exterior, he was trying to change. and you wanted to be there for him.

"I know..." you mumble softly, pulling him into a tight hug, making up for all the lost time. "Just promise you won't try to hide your feelings anymore. when things get bad at home, you can talk to me."

"i know," he says on the verge of his own tears. "Which is why I wanna marry you... I wanna be with you the rest of my life." a few tears fall from his blue eyes as he speaks.

he pulls away from the hug to slip his gold signet ring off his finger, staring at it for a moment before grabbing your left hand, slipping it onto your ring finger.

"I don't have a wedding ring on me right now," he chuckles in between his happy, drunken tears, "but for now, I want you to have this." he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the ring on your finger, his lips lingering for a few moments.

you open your mouth to say something, but you didn't know what to say. you pull him into another tight embrace, sighing softly in relief of being in his arms again, admiring the ring on your finger that was once on his.

"I love you so much, Rafe." You say, even though you could barely speak through the intense emotions that were flooding through your veins.

"I love you too, sweetheart. and I'm gonna be the man you need, the man that you deserve. you hear?" he says, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, picking you up with ease, pressing kisses to your neck.

a mischievous grin spreads across his face, nibbling on your neck. "gotta bring y' home and make it up to you. huh baby?" he grins.

[miley1442111]

heyy, i love your writing! I was thinking a rafe x fem reader, where Rafe says they don’t have anything, she was just a hook up etc when he was actually just scared of having feelings for a girl for the first time in his life. she gets with JJ to make him jealous and it works, but instead of being that mad Rafe Cameron he just open his heart and his fears to her (even end up crying a bit)

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mistakes and misjudgements

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a/n: hi! thank you so much for requesting! I love this idea!

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the request

warnings: kissing, toxic relationship, rafe is confused, cursing, drinking, suggestive mentions, mentions of rafe's addictions (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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Rafe walked past the bar, his eyes searching for yours. You, the pogue bartender at the club, had caught the Rafe Cameron’s eye, and he wasn’t about to let you go. 

He was met with Jj. His smile dropped, while Jj’s smirk rose. 

“What can I get you, Cameron? A vodka cranberry? I can mix it with the blood of the people you’ve murdered?-”

Jj stopped talking when Rafe leaned in closer. 

“Just a water, thanks.” 

Jj nodded and walked to the fridge to grab him a bottle, and then you walked up, and he watched as Rafe’s demeanour changed. He was softer, sweeter, and funnier. Jj almost laughed out loud at the way Rafe pushed some hair back from your face, that sickly sweet smile on his face. 

Jj moved you over, his hands on your waist and handed Rafe his water. “Water for the gentleman.”

Rafe’s smile dropped. “Thanks man.”

“Oh, Jj, this is my boyfriend, Rafe,” you smiled, introducing the two.

Bile rose in Rafe's stomach. Were you two dating? But that came with so much more than just the fun dates you two were indulging in. That would mean he’d have to be vulnerable with you. And the fact that you hated his drug use, something he’d been struggling to stop for a while now. And he knew you were too good for him, it was only a matter of time before you figured it out yourself and-

His mouth moved before his brain could stop it. “Woah,” Rafe deflected. “I’m not her boyfriend, we’re just… casual,” he shrugged. 

Your face fell and Rafe had never felt so bad. “Right, casual.”

You hated that word. You hated how he used it. You hated how you thought, even just for a second, that you would settle for that.

Jj’s smile widened. “Well, there’s your water. See you ‘round Kook,” and with that, Jj turned his back on Rafe and turned to you. “You alright?”

You nodded, more annoyed than anything else. “He’s such an asshole.”

“I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but I did warn you-” before he could finish you hit him with a towel, which ended up in a towel fight in the bar, neither of you aware of the searing eyes of Rafe Cameron. 

Maybe he’d fucked up. Maybe he did want to be your boyfriend. 

Maybe. 

Jj was appalled at what Rafe had done. Casual? What was wrong with him? He had the prettiest, kindest, most amazing girl on the island, if not the world, and he was throwing it away, for what? To fuck other people? That didn’t make any sense. So you two made a plan.  

He was going to ask you out. Now, Jj liked you, yes, but as a friend. You liked Jj, yes, but again, as a friend. So you two could ‘go out��� with each other and make Rafe jealous. For the simple reason of principal, you had to make Rafe pay, it was only fair. 

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When you walked into the party, you immediately found Jj and clung to him for the whole night. Everyone was talking about you two, especially since most people thought you were dating Rafe. 

You two danced, drank, and even made out, and by the end of the night, you knew you’d sent a message Rafe’s way by the amount of texts you’d received.  

Rafe: Wtf are you doing with him?

Rafe: Text me back.

Rafe: Stop being so close to him. Come talk to me 

Rafe: Please Y/n.

Rafe: I got the fucking message now stop it.

Rafe: You have my attention, you always do. Get off of him.

Rafe: Please come talk to me.

Rafe: Y/n stop.

Rafe: Please. 

Rafe: I know I fucked up, come on. This isn’t fair.

Rafe: I made a mistake Y/n, I’m sorry.

Rafe: Fuck this, I’ll be at Tanneyhill when you’re ready to talk to me like an adult. 

Rafe: Please talk to me. Please.

You chuckled as you read through the messages, Sarah by your side. 

“Oh my god! That’s why he was so upset leaving the party!” she laughed. 

Your stomach dropped. Rafe shouldn't have been upset, he didn't care about you, right? You were just another girl he was talking to and planning on fucking, right? “What do you mean?”

“Oh yeah, Kelce was telling me he was super worked up and upset all night so he left. He didn’t even do anything but he was pacing the entire night. Top though he’d had a panic attack.”

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath. “Hey, I think I might call it a night,” you turned to the group. 

“Aww come on! The night’s just started,” Kiara pleaded, you chuckled and shook your head. 

“I’m tired!” you lied. “And I have work tomorrow.”

You needed to talk to Rafe right now. 

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The walk from the beach to Tanneyhill was quick but full of quiet and anxious scenarios. You didn’t mean to make him upset, you just wanted to show him what he was missing. He embarrassed you earlier, and you wanted to get him back. You never meant to cause harm. 

You knocked on the door, hoping he was ok, and internally hoping it would be him to open the door, considering you were wearing a very short dress that you knew Rose would turn her nose up at. 

The door swung open to reveal… Rafe. 

But he looked… upset? His eyes were red-rimmed and his nose was sniffly, he’d been crying. You’d made him cry. 

“Hi,” he sniffled, and your heart just broke. Your Rafe had been crying over you.  

You cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer. “I’m sorry,” you whispered and he shook his head, trying to hold back more tears. 

“It’s fine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and tired. 

“It’s not. I’m so sorry Rafe,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek and that was all it took, the floodgates opened and he wrapped his arms around you, allowing him to be held by you. You sank down to the steps and let him cry into your neck for a few minutes. You softly brushed through his hair with your fingers and whispered hushed apologies and promises of everything being ok. After a few minutes he was coherent enough to speak. He pulled back, wiping his eyes with his hand as you sat beside him, confused and feeling awful. 

“I got so… jealous for a while, seeing you and Jj at work. I have no idea why. A-and then at the party, I saw you two just laughing a-and ha-having fun,” he hiccuped. “And I realised that I-I’m not like that. I’m not f-funny. I don’t make you laugh. I’m not ve-very fun to b-be around.” 

Your heart broke as you saw the little known insecure side of Rafe Cameron. Obviously, Jj and Rafe were different people, but you enjoyed Rafe’s dad jokes, just as much as you enjoyed Jj’s dry sarcasm. You and Jj had known each other practically since birth, so obviously you were more relaxed around him than with Rafe. Especially with Rafe, at the beginning you were so tense on every date, always worried that you were going to say the wrong thing, since this was your first real relationship. 

“I love being around you,” you cooed, cupping his cheek. “I think you’re funny. You make me laugh all the time.”

He nodded. “B-but I’m not like that, I’m… different. I’m not e-easy to be with, with the d-drinking and the baggage, and the drugs. I know that, a-and I promise I’m trying to change, t-to be better f-for you, it’s just h–hard. A-and I’m so scared that I’m going to lose you i-if I do the wrong thing.” 

“You’re not going to lose me,” you promised. “I swear.”

“But you and Jj-?”

“I was… trying to make you jealous,” you admitted, slightly embarrassed. 

“Oh,” he sighed. “That’s g-good. ‘Cause I really like you. And I want you to be my girlfriend.” 

You smiled. “I’m all yours Rafe, and we’ll work through it all together. I’m here for you, always.”

You took his hand in your and smiled. 

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, and he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

You'd get through it all, together.

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - r.c.

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 4.5k words)

summary: After 8 beautiful months tangled up with the richest man on the island, your trist comes to a screeching hault when it's time for him to find a girl more suited to his lifestyle. Even though you tried to move on, a photo of a new girl on his arm sends you both into a spiral that ends with him back in your bed.

content: angst/smut, drinking, smoking, what could be perceived as infidelity but technically isn't. this story is 18+ minors do not interact.

You met him in September, at a nightclub on the mainland. You had been dancing with your girlfriends all night, celebrating your best friend’s bachelorette party. It was the fourth bachelorette you’d been to in a year, now at the age when all of your friends were settling down and getting married. There was no ring in sight for you, though. Your friends would laugh and call you the wild stallion, a running joke among the group that no man could tame you. You never saw the point in marriage. You were stubbornly independent, insistent that you would make your own way in the world, promising yourself you’d never be just someone’s little wife. 

You knew this choice meant you’d struggle a little more than your friends, most of whom ‘married-up’ financially. You didn’t grow up with money, and you didn’t have any now. You had spent your whole life on The Cut and you had no problem spending the rest of it there. If the trade off for living your life however you wanted was hustling and jumping between dead-end jobs, so be it. You were much more interested in collecting stories anyway, always looking for wild nights and strange characters to fill your life with, briefly, not keeping anyone around for too long.

You went out every weekend, no Monday 9-to-5 looming over your fun. You’d brought many guys back to the little shack by the water that you rented, your barely-one-bedroom, as you called it lovingly. All the other bachelorette parties ended up with you bringing some guy back to your apartment for some pretty good sex and a completely ingenuine “I’ll text you sometime.” So when you stepped off the dance floor, sweat making your silk-slip dress cling to your curves, and the bartender handed you a drink that was a gift “from that guy over there” you smiled wide, knowing this night would go exactly as planned.

You smiled slyly at the tall blond in the corner as you took a delicate sip of your drink. He was gorgeous, eyeing you up and down like he was starved for you. His large frame was crowding the booth of the VIP section as he winked and lifted his glass to you in salute. 

This time, there was a problem. This time, the sex wasn’t pretty good. This time, the sex was earth shatteringly incredible. You genuinely didn’t know sex could be that good, that a guy you met at a bar could ever be capable of making you feel so euphoric, or come so hard, so many times. You didn’t know your own body was capable of the things he got it to do. You didn’t think you’d ever want to stay up talking and laughing with one of your hook-ups like you did that night. You didn’t think you’d ever wake up disappointed that the guy from the night before wasn’t in the bed next to you. And you definitely didn’t think you’d ever be the one to pull out your phone and text him first.

After that night, you saw each other regularly. It turned out he lived on the island too, though his estate was on the rich side of town. That first night, he only told you his first name. But when he had you put your number in his phone and text yourself so you’d have his, a note popped up at the top of the text thread that said “maybe: Rafe Cameron.” You recognized the surname immediately, it was everywhere on this island. After he left the second time, you googled him. Thousands of hits came up, articles about his family, pictures of them at their estate, on their yacht, at charity galas and property groundbreakings. Even though you knew his drive back from your place was only a couple of minutes, every night when he snuck out into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel like he was retreating to a completely different universe.

After a few weeks, Rafe’s late night visits started getting longer and longer. After he’d fold you into shapes you didn’t know you could make and fuck you breathless, you’d lay in your bed, his head on your chest, smoking a joint and talking for hours. You talked about everything, the conversations weaving between casual chats about your common interests, to deep talks about purpose, values, and trauma, to joking around and teasing each other until you were giggling below him and he was smiling into the skin of your neck. 

You’d tell him about your plans to never settle down and keep chasing the next adventure. He’d tell you about his asshole of a father and the grand plans he had for him. Neither of you ever acknowledged how antithetical your life plans were. The truth that nothing real would ever work between you would hang in the air everyone once in a while, but you’d just push away the tension with a joke and fuck again. 

Even though your nights together would bleed well into the early morning, Rafe never stayed over. It was an unspoken rule between you, he never told you he wanted to stay and you never asked him to. You told yourself it was a good thing, exactly what you wanted, as you shivered in your empty bed and cursed the loss of his warmth.

One night, that May, you and Rafe sat on your bed, eating the take-out he had ordered to your apartment after you’d finished fucking. He was quieter than usual, distracted. Just a little earlier, he had gone down on you for longer than he ever had. Taking his time, praising every inch of you with kisses. He whispered little nothings into the soft skin of your inner thighs before devouring you. “So beautiful” and “so good to me, baby” and “all I can fucking think about.” He always talked to you sweetly, saying the nicest words while doing the filthiest things to you, but this time was different. Typically he was rough, which you loved, but this night he moved slowly, without his usual urgency. He brought you to orgasm on his tongue twice, before fucking you in missionary, his forehead against yours as you came at the same time. Since that moment, he’d barely said anything to you outside of asking what you wanted for dinner.

You sat in silence and picked at the Chinese food he’d gotten from your favorite place. You watched him as he shifted uncomfortably on the mattress and twirled a chopstick between his long fingers.

“You don’t like your food?” You asked him hesitantly.

“Hmm?” He looked at you for the first time in several minutes. “Oh, no it’s fine, it’s good.”

His smile was tight as he set the containers on your nightstand, out of the way.

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t eat any of it,” you pointed out. You hoped your teasing would loosen him up a bit, but he just sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked quietly, your hand reaching out to gently pat his leg. You had never seen him like this before and had no idea how to proceed.

He looked up at you and leaned back against the headboard, biting the skin around his thumbnail. You were getting nervous.

“Rafe?”

“I, uh, had a talk with my dad today,” he muttered.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “And how did that go?”

“About as good as you might think,” he chuckled humorlessly. 

Even though you didn't know his dad, after the many stories Rafe had told you about his father’s temper and general disapproval of him, you hated him.

You sat in silence, hand still on Rafe’s knee, as you waited for him to tell you more.

“He said, uh…” Rafe stalled, like he was struggling to find the right words.

“He said what?” Your heartbeat quickened in anticipation, the unfamiliarity of his tone throwing your thoughts into chaos.

When he still didn’t answer, you whispered, “Rafe you’re making me nervous.”

He responded to this, clearly feeling bad when he realized he had you on edge. He placed his hand over yours and finally made eye contact with you. You tilted your head and tried to read his expression with no luck.

“He told me he wants to make me the VP of Acquisitions at Cameron Development,” he finally said.

You shook your head slightly as a big smile of relief spread across your face.

“Oh,” you half-chuckled. “Well, Rafe, that's great! That’s what you wanted right?” You placed your other hand on his forearm and shook him playfully. “That’s good news, why are you acting like someone died? Jesus, you scared me!” 

He smiled at the gesture, you knew he liked the way you’d mess with him. But then he straightened up more against the headboard, pulling away from you slightly.

“That’s not all he said,” he explained.

“What else? He’s going to give you a million dollars?” You joked.

“No,” he said sternly, making the smile fall from your lips immediately. “He said if I want this promotion that I need to get my shit together and…settle down.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed as you considered his meaning, not quite understanding at first. When it hit you, you pulled your hands away from him completely. “Oh.”

“Y/n,” Rafe whispered, observing the way your lips curved down slightly.

“You’re ending this,” you said flatly, gesturing between the two of you.

“I didn’t say that,” he winced.

“But you are, though, I mean you have to,” you had steeled yourself into an impassive tone, trying to come across as unaffected.

Internally, you were on fire, feeling so foolish for how happy and giggly you had just been, oblivious to the fact that you were essentially being dumped.

Neither of you had ever said this was exclusive, you weren’t a couple, there was no commitment made. Still, the way he’d talk while he was inside of you made your head dizzy with the possibility of it all. There was an alternate universe out there somewhere in the cosmos, where he made you his for real, claimed you in public, put a ring on your finger. Sometimes, when he was so deep you were seeing stars and telling you how much he “loved being inside of his girl” you’d allow yourself to get lost in the fantasy, just for a minute.

Then you’d wake up alone, still poor, still a pogue. You’d light up a cigarette and let the smoke engulf your delusions.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “He made it very clear that he expects me to find someone soon, to get married and start a family. I can’t do that with you, obviously.”

Obviously. Your throat tightened at the hurtful assertion.

“Right, obviously,” you agreed. “I mean I’m just a pogue who lives in this shithole and you should be with someone more worthy of you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Rafe muttered, closing his eyes tight in frustration. “I meant, ‘cause you know, you don’t want all that.” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s okay, Rafe, I get it,” you scoffed. “This was never meant to be a long term thing anyway, we’re just fucking.” 

It was such a ridiculous assertion, your trist had gone so far past just fucking, but you needed to convince yourself it was true otherwise there was no way you’d make it out of this unscathed. 

Rafe just blinked back at you for a minute before standing from your bed. You were grateful he was moving quickly, the last thing you wanted to do was let him see you cry.

“Right, just fucking,” he agreed. “And I need someone who can run a house and have a family, y'know, and understands my world.”

Every single word felt like a knife in your gut. You nodded like you couldn’t agree more, shuffling down in your bed and pulling the covers up.

“Okay then,” you fluffed your pillow, as if it was any other night and you were just getting ready for bed. “I hope it all works out. This was fun, though. Lock the door on your way out?”

Rafe looked down at you for a few seconds, your back to him as you settled into your pillows. 

“You got it,” he answered. 

And then he was gone. And for the first time in your life, you cried yourself to sleep.

It was June now, a month had passed since the night you last spoke to Rafe. You had started going out even more than you were before you met him. You friends joked that you were alive from the dead, since you had chosen nights in with Rafe over social events for so many months. 

You were dancing at the same club where you met Rafe so many months earlier. You joined a few of your girls at the bar and waved down the bartender for another drink. 

“...posted on her story,” you leaned in to catch the end of your friend’s sentence. The girls were all leaning over to look at something on one of their phones.

“What are we looking at?” You slurred, already a few drinks deep.

The girl holding the phone told you they were looking at the instagram of a local influencer you all knew of.

You made a fake gagging noise. She was one of the richest girls on the island, infamous among you and your friends for her obnoxiously lavish lifestyle and her overly edited social media pictures.

“Ew, why?” you questioned them, accepting your usual drink from the bartender with a wink.

“Look at what she posted tonight,” your friend holding the phone showed you the screen. 

You studied the photo, your grasp around the cold glass got tighter as you took it in, your knuckles going white. It was a selfie - the girl you couldn't stand all done up in diamonds and red lipstick, gazing up lovingly at Rafe Cameron.

There was no caption, just a little heart-eyes emoji and his instagram tagged.

You never told your friends about you and Rafe. You felt strangely protective over what you had with him, not willing to hear any negative feedback about fucking around with a Kook prince. You knew they wouldn’t understand how perfect and intense your nights with him were. They wouldn’t believe that he was funny, sweet, tender. No one would ever know him like you did.

Like you used to know him. 

You took a sip of your drink and tried to act unaffected by the picture. In reality, your world was crashing around you. You knew he’d find his perfect Kook princess eventually, but you didn’t know it would be so soon, or that it would be her. You half-listened as one of the girls explained that she heard from a mutual friend that they weren’t official yet, but you knew they would be soon enough. Everything would go to plan for him, he’d get everything he ever wanted and you’d just watch through a screen. 

After telling your friends you had a headache, you took a ferry back to the island and walked to your apartment in the dark. It was a questionable choice in this part of town, but you needed the early summer night air to clear your brain. By the time you got back to your apartment you were sober, and yet you still felt like you might throw up.

You ran the shower in your tiny bathroom, letting the steam fill up the space and sink into your pores. The hot water turned your skin red and blotchy, but you couldn’t feel a thing.

BANG BANG BANG.

Your eyes flew open and you turned the faucet off quickly, hands shaking in panic. It was nearly 2 a.m. and someone was pounding on your front door. You wrapped a towel around yourself and padded lightly over the front door. 

“Who is it?” You yelled, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“It’s me,” a deep voice answered from the other side. You peered into the peephole, even though you didn’t need to see him to know who the voice belonged to.

Rafe stood on the other side, his white button up untucked and his tie loosened. It must be the same outfit he was wearing in the picture.

Your body and brain both paused, unable to process the shock of seeing him standing under your porch light.

“What do you want?” You questioned.

“Can I come in please?” His voice was strained, weak even.

“Why?” You said with a guarded edge to your tone.

“Y/n…” Rafe pleaded.

Despite every instinct you had, you opened the door.

He looked frenzied, his hair tousled, and the hem of his suit pants splattered with mud. He still looked fucking hot, his sleeves rolled up a bit, revealing his muscular forearms.

“What happened to you?” You asked.

“I walked here.” His eyes flickered up and down your figure, taking in the sight of you in just a towel, licking his lips.

Your stomach tightened at the hunger in his eyes, but the pain of the last month burned fresh in your mind. Getting over him was the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and the long, painful process wasn’t even over yet. Seeing that picture tonight was just another sharp spike in the barbed wire he had wrapped around your heart.

“She couldn’t have given you a ride?” You spat at him.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need to ask who you were referring to.

“I asked her not to post that picture, I didn’t want you to see that,” he huffed.

“Why not? I knew it was coming." You summoned the same unbothered tone from the night he left you.

“We’re not-” he stumbled over his words, looking down at his feet. “She isn’t my girlfriend…”

“Yet." You jumped to the end of his sentence for him. His eyes flew up to yours. “But she will be,” you surmised with a sad smile.

He doesn’t disagree with you.

“She’s perfect,” you continue. “Gorgeous, rich, part of your world.” 

He sighs regretfully, both of you recognizing the words he said to you a month earlier.

“I know,” he agrees.

“Then why did you come here?” 

He doesn’t answer you, just clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes firmly locked to yours.

“She’s everything you wanted,” you point out. 

He nods his head in agreement again, “you’re right.”

“So then why are you here?” You repeat.

He cocks his head to the side ever so slightly, blue eyes locked onto your lips.

“‘Cause she’s not you.”

You wish it didn’t make your heart race, wish it didn’t make your stomach flip, and you really wish it didn’t make you let out a small, nearly inaudible gasp. His heavily lidded eyes fogged over with need as he studied your face intently. Your gaze dropped from his eyes, to his lips, to his heaving chest, to his wringing hands. He flexed his fingers anxiously, and you wished you didn’t know what they felt like buried inside of you.

Your mind was racing, a million thoughts and most of them were warnings. You knew how this ends, the morning would come and he wouldn't be there. And a year from now they’ll be married and you’ll be haunted by this night. Every self-protective instinct you have left screamed in your head, pleading with you to make the right choice.

You were ready to appease the voices, about to close the door in his face, when his fingers reached towards you and just barely grazed the seam of your towel, tugging slightly with the most restraint you think he’s ever shown. All the noise in your head just stopped. Suddenly there was nothing in the entire world except for the man in front of you.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you breathed out hard and fast before grabbing his face in both of your hands and crashing your lips into his.

He lost it at the sound of his name on your lips and the taste of you on his tongue. His hands landed firmly on your waist, squeezing hard. His lips parted yours and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot and greedy. His hands slipped to your lower back, caging you into him with a flex of his biceps. You let out the sweetest little grunt as you jumped up, your arms and legs wrapping around him so he could carry you.

With you in his arms, he walked into your apartment. Still kissing him, you reached out and slammed the door closed. He let go of you with one hand to reach back and turn the lock, a sign of strength as he held up your whole body with one arm like you weigh nothing. He walked you both through your small apartment, not needing to look where he’s going to find your bedroom.

He bent low to drop you on the bed, you released your grip around his shoulders just long enough for him to roughly rip his shirt open and pull it off. He was back on top of you in seconds, lifting you up to scoot you both up to the top of the mattress. 

As his lips moved to your neck, you realized you’re already falling back into your old patterns, with Rafe controlling the tempo and doing most of the work. The familiarity made you anxious, you had gotten so addicted to the way he commanded your body and you weren’t sure you’d survive another detox. When he started rolling his hips against you, you could feel how hard and ready he was under his slacks, and made a decision.

You reached up behind his head and laced your fingers through his hair, tugging hard to separate his lips from your skin. A gasp passed through his lips at the sensation.

“You want me, baby?” You purred.

His brows furrowed, but he was too desperate to play games.

“So badly,” he admitted.

“You want to be inside of me?”

His eyes rolled back slightly at the sound of your dirty words. When he didn't answer, you arched your back and pressed up into his aching cock, letting the towel open just enough to expose your bare core, your wetness soaking into the soft fabric of his pants.

“I need it,” he groaned. “Need to feel your pussy around me again.”

At this confession, you released his hair and pressed against his chest to roll him onto his back, straddling him. You kissed him again, just as fevered as before. While your mouth clashed with his, your hands undid his belt and he lifted his hips to allow you to pull his slacks down, leaving him in his snug briefs. You bit his lip, smiling smugly when he moaned. You licked a stripe up his neck, loving the salty taste, Rafe already sweaty from how worked up you’ve got him.

You kiss up his neck, until your mouth is pressed into the shell of his ear.

You whispered, “Does she feel as good as me?”

Rafe said your name in warning, clearly not wanting to talk about her while you were on top of him like this.

You pulled his earlobe between your teeth and bit down, making him wince, pleasured by the pain.

“Answer me,” you demanded.

“N-no,” he stuttered as you pressed your hips down hard, your now dripping pussy sliding over the outline of his cock. 

You sat up straight, and he tried to follow you, his head lifting from the pillow, but you laid your hand softly on his chest and pushed him back down.

Rafe watched as you slowly open the towel and dropped it to the floor, revealing yourself completely. He lifted his hands subconsciously, reaching for your tits. You grabbed his wrists and held his hands back, just inches from your skin. 

“Does she make you as hard as I do?” You said with another circle of your hips.

He shook his head back and forth rapidly, relenting to your game. You lowered one of his hands, raising your hips off of him slightly, one more question in mind. 

He inhaled sharply as you dragged his hand against your pussy, his fingers instinctively rubbing with the perfect pressure.

“Does she get this wet for you, baby?”

“Fuck,” he grunted through clenched teeth, “No.”

You leaned back over him, lips hovering over his, your breath intertwined.

“Then fuck me like you’ll never be able to fuck her.”

Rafe’s restraint snapped in half and he flipped you on your back. He ripped his briefs down with one hand, while the other ran over your calf and brought it to his shoulder.

He filled you like only he can, like he was tailor made for you. You clenched around him hard as he pounded into you, eventually lifting your other leg so you could dig your heels into his shoulder. No more words were exchanged, the ecstasy and exertion and emotion all too intense for either of you to form words. 

This is it, you told yourself, tomorrow he’ll belong to her. 

The tops of your thighs pressed into your stomach as he bottomed out over and over again. You hoped he would think the water in your eyes was just a result of the pressure. He must've noticed it though, because he threaded his fingers with yours to soothe you, pressing his forehead against your temple, and panting desperately into your ear.

It only took a few more strokes for you both to come. The last time you heard his voice, he was crying out your name. He filled you completely, and you were still dripping with him when he climbed off of you, pulled his clothes on wordlessly, and left.

You laid still for a long while. No tears came to you this time, a bitter acceptance washing over you. 

He’s gone for good now, leaving you with another wild story to tell and freeing you to throw yourself into the next adventure. And he’ll have a picture perfect life, with the perfect girl.

You both got exactly what you wanted…

…right?

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

part 2

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part five) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe knocks again. And again. And again.

Your front door rattles in its frame, his knuckles still sore from the punches he threw at the bonfire last night.

He sat in the holding cell after being questioned by Brading, ruminating over everything he’ll say to you when he sees you. He needs to tell you that you’re right; the detective is onto you both.

Brading brought up your name, asking about Porter, asking what Rafe had over you that would make you want to protect him.

He’s confident you’re both guilty, but he doesn’t have the evidence to prove it. He’d booked him on a drug charge, telling him they’d searched his bedroom and found enough coke to arrest him for more than just possession.

His questions had nothing to do with that.

He demanded Rafe tell him about Porter, trying to provoke him into a confession. As he sat in the small, dingy interrogation room, your words echoed in his head. I don’t think we should talk to him without a lawyer.

So, he didn’t. Brading gave up and threw him back into his cell. Rafe would’ve lost his temper if he didn’t have you to protect.

The lawyer came in with Ward early this morning. After Rafe told him about the arrest, the lawyer explained that Brading had abused his power by not providing Rafe with his right to make a phone call.

Rafe couldn’t make eye contact with his father as he was escorted into a courtroom for the bail hearing an hour later. The lawyer was well worth the money Rafe is sure his father is paying him. He was given a court date and granted bail, which Ward covered.

“I’m sorry I got mixed up in this, okay?” Rafe had muttered to his father in the car on their way home. “I’ll get clean. I’ll stop selling.”

“You should know better,” Ward sighed. “The cops showing up to our house like that… what are you thinking?”

“I’m not,” he said.

“And what was that… about that missing kid? You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

His own father jumping to the worst conclusion, even though it’s true, pierced the wound Rafe has held in his heart since childhood. He’s nothing but a disappointment. A stain on the family name.

Now, he’s at your front door, and he’s been knocking for what feels like five straight minutes. Nobody’s answering. The house looks empty. The car is gone.

He checks his phone again to see it’s almost two in the afternoon. All his texts and calls to you have gone undelivered.

He can’t even entertain the thought that you’re doing it on purpose; he knows you’re loyal to him. He never thought he’d trust somebody the way he trusts you, but he does, and he would never expect you to turn on him.

He needs to find you.

He makes his way to the country club, figuring you must be at work. When he rushes to the restaurant, tapping the bartop, he impatiently asks where you are.

The bartender looks at Rafe with a look he can’t quite read.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Rafe says. It’s the first time he used that title, but it feels right for what he has with you. “Is she working today or not?”

“Oh… I…” The bartender uneasily looks around the room. “I shouldn’t be the one to... I don’t…”

“What?” Rafe snaps.

“Our boss told us this morning,” he responds, his expression pained. He leans closer, hesitating as he says, “She was in a car accident and she didn’t make it. I’m sorry, man. I wish I wasn’t the one to tell you.”

Rafe straightens, his body flooding with a sharp, harrowing chill.

“You…” He shakes his head. “You got something wrong. You don’t– you’re confused.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know her that well, but…” The bartender nervously shrugs. “Everyone liked her.”

Liked her. Liked. You’re not in the past tense. You’re here. You’re somewhere around here. The ringing in his ears grows louder. The man only shakes his head, frowning in sympathy.

“You’re confused,” Rafe repeats. “What did– who told you that?”

“My boss,” he tells him again.

Rafe erratically rushes out of the building, starting his car even though he doesn’t know where to go, and looks ahead with a blank stare as his chest heaves.

“No,” he mutters to himself, his voice strained. “No, this is– he’s fucking wrong. This is…”

There’s no way this is real.

He pulls his phone out to call you. Again, it doesn’t even ring. His phone beeps with the dropped call notification. He tries again. Nothing.

His limbs are shaking, eyes burning with tears. A mistake. It’s a mistake. He just needs to find another way to contact you.

He opens a social media app to message you there. Before he can type in the search bar, a smiling photo of you is at the top of his feed.

It’s a news article. Local woman dead after late night crash. The post caption reads: This is crazy. She was so young :( Rest in peace.

He taps to read the comments, reading worthless prayers and canned condolences as he keeps scrolling, every roll of his thumb making him sicker.

He finds the article. Saliva coats his tongue and he’s sure he’s about to throw up as he reads it.

The vehicle was traveling southbound… Ran off the roadway… Pronounced deceased on scene.

No. You were just with him last night, a living, breathing, beautiful girl telling him you care about him, your touch warm and soft and real.

Deceased. That cold, final word doesn’t describe you. It can’t.

He barely makes it in time to open his door and vomit on the concrete. When he slams his hands over his steering wheel, he does it until his palms throb in pain. He cries until his throat burns.

No. This can’t be real.

╰┈➤ three weeks later

The town you live in now is in a land-locked state with an even smaller population than Kildare. The agent in charge of your case gave you and your parents everything you needed to assume your new lives.

Your old one ended on a road back home, covered up with a story that you’d lost control of your friend’s car and died on impact.

You’re sitting in the therapist’s office, picking at a loose string on your shirt. The protection program placed you with a clinical psychologist who specializes in trauma recovery, but you worry you’ll never be able to rid yourself of the paralyzing pain that has sept into your heart.

You come here once a week. You’re supposed to be moving on, setting roots here, accepting your new identity.

But you haven’t and you can’t. You’re not allowed to contact anyone, but every day, more and more, you yearn to find a way to tell the people you love that you’re okay, to put them out of their grief and misery.

You wouldn’t dare take the risk, but you’re constantly checking on what you left on the island, searching news sites and social media for anything you can find through a faceless account.

Rafe’s arrest record is public. Sale and distribution of an illegal substance. You know now that Brading arrested him for coke that night. You’re sure he did it just to get Rafe in custody to be able to intimidate him into talking about Porter.

You know nothing else about him. He hasn’t posted anything since you left. His name only comes up on the law enforcement website, offering no further information on a trial or a sentencing.

When you look up your friends, seeing the photos and messages they posted in memoriam of you never gets easier. You left JJ and Pope and John B with the shock of seeing you in Rafe’s arms, then you left in JJ’s car, unknowingly racing towards your faked death.

The investigation on Porter has hit a dead end. The last article came out a week ago titled: Family seeks closure as disappearance of Porter Arnoult remains a mystery.

And the man who shot Brading, who made a full recovery, is still at large, meaning you’re still in danger.

“Come on in,” your therapist says gently, peeking out her office door.

You settle in the worn seat. You’ve told this woman everything but for the truth about the night that was the catalyst to the mess your life has become.

You promised Rafe you’d keep the secret to the grave. You meant it.

·········

The heaviest, sharpest ache sits in Rafe’s chest as he stands at your final resting place, as he reads your name in stone, a hyphen between two years that are much too close to each other.

There was no funeral. Word had gotten around that your parents were too distraught and left town shortly after the accident.

His head is pounding with his hangover, his body weak from the booze and coke he’s been pumping into it.

Stay out of trouble. That’s what his lawyer told him. But his court date is in a couple of days and he’s done everything but. This is the first time he’s come to your grave and he feels like a piece of shit for waiting so long, but he couldn’t do it.

He never deserved you. A piece of him knew, gnawed at him, that you’d realize he didn’t measure up. But he was ready to try, for once in his life, to be better.

And then, you were taken from him. And the idea of paying his respect to a girl who’s nothing but a memory now is not for your benefit. It’s for the grieving, and while he’s not worthy of that relief, he came to the cemetery in case he won’t get the chance again for a long time.

He’ll likely be going to prison soon. His lawyer said the best case scenario is a reduced sentence and a heavy fine.

Rafe’s numb to it. It’s why he’s been getting fucked up at parties, telling anyone who asks about you or him to shut up because he knows they don’t care. All he does is get wasted and open his wallet only to buy more shit to dull the pain.

You were a light in the clouds that always consumed him, and because you’d followed him after he’d gotten arrested, you died.

He’ll never forgive himself for the fact that caring for him is what killed you.

╰┈➤ one week later

It’s Rafe’s last night of freedom.

He was sentenced to 14 months. His life is fucked. All because he was an idiot who decided to sell coke.

Brading sat in the courtroom as the arresting officer, looking bitter, likely because his plan to get Rafe to crack about Porter’s case never worked.

His lawyer told him it was a win to get such a short sentence, as if living behind bars can ever be considered some sort of victory. He’s being locked up tomorrow, a nasty blotch on his record, a traumatic experience waiting for him.

He’s at a party on Figure Eight, dipped into a numbing high on a couch. Coke and booze coarse through his veins. He’s subconsciously been hoping that it’d kill him before he has to go to prison.

It’s been a month since you died. The hole in his chest only digs itself deeper, burying him alive. He ignores the people who pretend to care about him, remembering how they’d acted when rumors spread about him doing something to Porter.

He knows this will follow him forever, being suspected for Porter’s disappearance, being connected to you, the innocent girl who got involved with him then tragically passed away.

He doesn’t care what people think. He thought he was lethargic before. That was nothing.

He gets lost in the high, hearing the people and the music around him, catching flashes of phones in the crowd as people celebrate life while he wishes his would just end.

“What were you doing with her?”

Rafe’s vision blurs and refocuses until he can see who’s standing over him in the crowded living room. It’s Pope, his nostrils flared in anger.

JJ and John B stand close behind, disgusted looks on their faces.

“Fuck off,” Rafe slurs.

“What were you doing with her?” JJ shouts louder. A few heads turn at the noise.

Rafe’s jaw tenses in anger. His body is heavy, but he pushes himself off the couch, staring at your friends, knowing they have no fucking clue how badly he’s been suffering without you.

“She didn’t want to tell you,” Rafe mutters, “because she knew you assholes would make her feel bad about it.”

“She’s… she’s fucking dead because of you,” JJ says, his voice laced with tears. “She was on the road because of you.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Rafe yells. He swore on his life that you’d always be safe with him. He deserves to die.

He has nothing to lose. He shoves JJ down onto the floor, landing a single punch before he’s pulled back and struck in the jaw with a hard fist.

Rafe spits out blood, his neck at the crook of the couch, knowing no amount of physical pain could come close to matching how bad his heart hurts.

·········

When you see Rafe in the background of a Kook’s social media story, your breath hitches. He’s sprawled out on a couch, head tipped back, lips parted and eyes rolling.

You know it’s stupid. You know you’re putting yourself in danger by doing it. You’re not supposed to contact a soul from your past life.

But he looks near death in the video.

You go to Rafe’s account and start to type with trembling fingers. You’re using the burner account you made, a fake name with no photo, but you hope reminding him of something only you two would remember is enough.

It’s me. The girl you always gave a $50 to at the club. I’m okay. I had to go into hiding. I had no choice. Please take care of yourself and don’t tell anyone about me. I miss you.

You don’t see his reply until you wake up the next day. What kind of sick joke is this?

It’s not a joke, you respond. I used to tell you all the time not to call me a Pogue, remember? I know this is confusing. I wish it wasn’t like this. I’m sorry.

He doesn’t respond. You don’t blame him. He thinks it’s a twisted prank. But even though it was a stupid risk to take, you’re glad you tried. You just wish it worked.

A day later, you unsend your messages and delete your account just in case.

╰┈➤ sixteen months later

“It’s completely your choice,” the program agent continues, sitting in the living room of the home you still don’t consider home. “We set you and your family up for permanent placement, but the man you saw was captured with his associates and died in a shoot-out. We’re confident you’re no longer in danger. You can choose to stay here, or go back.”

You look at your parents with wide eyes, in utter disbelief. It’s been over a year. You all have jobs and friends and a foundation now, even though it’s built on lies.

But you’ve been aching to go home since the day you moved here. And you’re going back to the island, with or without your parents.

╰┈➤ three days later

The flight was painfully long. You came alone. Your parents didn’t feel the need to go back in time and come here. They don’t have the ties you do to home.

The fact that they could watch you leave was confirmation that all you shared with them was a last name. You always felt alone around them. You never had their love. Not really. It’s why you clung to your friends.

Kildare’s salty breeze is the same. Even the way the sun hits here feels unique. You keep the window of your rental car down as you drive through familiar streets.

You’d considered contacting your friends before finding them, but what happened with Rafe would likely happen with them. They’d think it was a cruel prank. They wouldn’t believe you.

It’s a sunny afternoon. You knock on JJ’s door. Your heart is in your throat. You’ve been discreetly keeping up with what your friends publicly post. It seems life here never changes much.

You crave the familiarity. The peace.

The door swings open. JJ stares at you like he’s seen a ghost. You expected as much.

“Hi,” your voice is thin, what you rehearsed coming out rushed. “I witnessed a crime and I was put into protection. They had to fake my death and put me somewhere safe. But I’m not in danger anymore. And they let me come back.”

He doesn’t have the words. You don’t blame him. He pulls you in and this is what you’ve been missing so agonizingly – feeling wanted.

He invites the guys over and after a tearful reunion and a long catch-up, you finally ask them about Rafe, terrified you’ll hear the worst, even though you’ve been keeping up with local news.

“He just got outta jail,” JJ says.

“For what?” you ask, worried he took the fall for what you did to Porter.

“Selling coke,” he says. “I think he got like, a year. I’m pretty sure his dad paid to get it scrubbed from the internet.”

“He kind of went crazy after you…” Pope trails off. “Crazier than usual. But since he got out, he’s not bothering us. He’s just quiet. He’s different now.”

You nod, desperate to go see him.

“What happened that night?” JJ asks. “Were you and him… like, a thing?”

“Yeah,” you say. “He’s… He wasn’t who we always thought he was. I was surprised, too. It happened really fast. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” JJ says.

You give him a grateful smile, knowing it won’t take long at all to get used to this again, to being your old self with your old friends. You left, but your heart stayed here.

·········

Rafe’s sister is visibly in shock to see you when you show up at the Camerons’ doorstep later that afternoon. You tell her what happened, sure the gossip will spread before you even step foot off the property, and ask her where Rafe is.

She tells you he went out on the family’s boat. You thank her and head over to the marina.

·········

Rafe spent every day in prison thinking about those messages he got the night before he was put behind bars. The person behind the account knew things only you would.

It might have been a twisted joke or someone’s way of keeping him above water while he wished he could drown.

But nobody would care enough about him to do that. Only you.

He never saw a response after he replied, and fourteen months later, when he got his phone back, the messages and the account were gone.

It’s been nearly a year and a half since you left. Hope is a ridiculous thing. He doesn’t even consider it your death anymore. You left.

The only thing that kept him going through his monotonous, soul-draining time in prison was the nearly invisible shred of hope that it really was you who sent him those messages.

He wishes he could remember the account name. It was a random assortment of letters and numbers. Sometimes, he’s convinced he dreamed it, like his survival instinct kicked in and made him hallucinate the possibility that you didn’t actually die.

He gazes out at the deep blue water, white caps tumbling over the waves as the boat bobs with the tides.

After you, he missed the sea most.

You remember where his boat was parked. Every detail of that night is burned into your mind. Vowing to keep the secret in the beach house, dragging the body over the dock, planning your alibis on his boat.

There haven’t been any developments in the case. Porter’s body is still out there somewhere, your secret lying with him.

Your heart stops when you spot Rafe’s back as he pulls a rope on his parked boat. His hair is buzzed now, his back broader and his arms larger than you remember. You close the distance, almost falling off the dock when you approach his boat because you’re that awestruck.

You’ve dreamt of this moment. You weren’t sure it’d ever come.

He turns, wrapping the rope around the cleat of the boat, squinting under the sun. He breathes a quiet grunt as he tightens the rope, then stands and surveys it.

Something catches the corner of his eye. He looks up. And pure relief washes over his handsome face.

Rafe rushes towards you like you might disappear if he doesn’t reach you fast enough. He jumps off the edge and nearly knocks the wind out of you when he surrounds you in his heavy arms, squeezing you.

Tears prick your eyes, and suddenly, you’re sobbing. From disbelief. From relief. From love.

“I knew it,” he whispers shakily, nuzzled into your neck. “I knew it. I knew it. Fuck.”

Your eyes are shut as he holds you, both of you suspended, bobbing boats creaking around you, gulls crying in the sky.

He finds the strength to pull back, meeting your eyes. Those eyes. They never left his mind. He knew you were out there and he wondered what they were seeing every single day.

You gaze up at him, vision blurred from your tears. Safety. That’s what he feels like to you. Like nothing can hurt you.

“I missed you,” you say in a whisper, but the words can’t possibly represent how painful life has been, how much you’ve been worrying about him.

“Me, too,” he says, cupping your cheek like you might break, like you’re a dream that might slip away. “I can’t believe…”

You nod. You can’t believe much of what’s happening, either.

·········

You’re in Rafe’s arms until the sun goes down, sitting in the hull of his parked boat, not wanting to part for even a second to allow him to drive out into the water. You don’t need to go anywhere. You want to be rooted with him.

You sat here once before, in a past life of a past life, conspiring and coming up with a story to cover up the murder.

“I never forgot what you did when I got arrested,” Rafe says into your ear, your back flush against his chest, the sun an orange sliver on the horizon. “Yelling at that asshole not to hurt me.”

“It was horrible seeing him do that to you,” you murmur, remembering how hard Brading had pushed him against the car to handcuff him. “He eventually gave up, huh? I kept checking the news, but the case went cold?”

“Yeah. He left town,” Rafe tells you. “He had no evidence. We got rid of it all.”

You nod with a long sigh.

“How was it?” you ask.

You don’t have to say it. He knows you’re asking about prison.

“Knowing you were okay kept me through it,” he admits. You turn to meet his pained blue eyes.

“It’s all behind us now,” you say.

He presses his lips against yours, warm and tender and soft, dismissing the cold that’d been sitting in your soul since you were forced to leave.

Epilogue

You’ll always feel the void of the year and a half that you were gone deep in your heart. But as time goes by, it gets smaller and smaller.

You’d planned to stay with one of your friends while you found your footing to get your own place, but Rafe insisted he buy you a condo, saying it’d be the best use of his money.

He hadn’t expected to still have access to his family’s bank account, but his father seemed to see a difference in him after prison.

You see a change in him, too. You mention it to him sometimes, how his temper has completely faded away.

“Still like me, though?” he once asked, half-joking.

“I love you,” you told him. It was the first time you said the word and his heart felt like it was going to burst. He kissed you hard and told you he loved over and over.

Rafe comes over all the time, preparing meals together, making up for lost time.

One night, as he dozes off next to you in your bed, you realize you still don’t regret your crime and if you don’t by now, you never will.

Sometimes you wonder if you should be remorseful for taking a life. But that man was evil and the world is a better place without him. People die, but the past doesn’t, and while you may carry it with you forever, you wouldn’t take it back.

Your eyes slowly trail over Rafe’s face in the dim light, your heart pounding as you think about how you got here, two broken people who found each other on a terrifying night.

It’s all still so crystal clear in your mind. The blood on his face the night it happened. The way he held you when you told him what your real motive was. The tears in his eyes when he reunited with you.

You pull a blanket over him. He’s everything to you now. And like your love, your secret remains between you two, binding you together forever.

(the end)

[moonsgemini]

dress - rafe cameron

summary: she’ll always wish she could enjoy the midsummer’s celebrations instead of working at it, but her secret moments with the kook prince make the bad tips worth it

warnings: rafe x pogue!reader, typical classist stuff but not from rafe, fluff, angst, mutual pining, alcohol, kissing

wc: 3.5k

an: this is based off of dress by taylor swift but my own interpretation of it I guess. If you guys want a pt. 2 with smut let me knoooow, I’m such a s!ut for rafe cameron pleaaaase

our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you

Midsummer was probably her least favorite day of summer. You’d think that being a bartender on the day that the whole figure eight came to the country club would bring in lots of tips right? Well wrong. During midsummer’s the drinks were complimentary and there was just a tip jar for cash tips. Kooks don’t usually carry around cash, or really tip for that matter. Also seeing all the kooks dressed in their pretty dresses and cute flower crowns made y/n go green with jealousy. She desperately wished she could attend as a guest and get to dress up and enjoy the food. Y/n would be dreading this shift if she didn’t have something to look forward to.

She had looked over herself in the mirror a million times, making sure her dress still looked as good on her as it did in the dressing room mirror yesterday. The tag was securely tucked into her side because she may have run up her credit card to be able to afford it so she had to return it after. Bartenders didn’t have as strict as a uniform as the waiters did. Her manager allowing them to wear black dresses for the night, and of course she was going to jump at the opportunity to wear something nicer than her boxy polo uniform and tennis skirt.

Her makeup and hair had been done to the best of her ability, without it seeming like she was trying too hard. Y/n would never admit to any of her friends or family that she was dressed up in order to impress a certain kook prince. The same kook prince she had spent months crushing on, and he never helped make the crush go away because he would shamelessly flirt with her every time he was at the country club. It was more like banter, she had a feeling he never really meant anything he said. But it felt so good to feel wanted.

When Rafe would see her around the outer banks he would smirk at her or give her a nod as to say hi. At parties sometimes he’d go up to her and make some small conversation. Teasing her about what drink she had or making sure that she didn’t give her number to that guy that was flirting with her. They’d be making conversation and she would take a step towards him wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms and his scent. But then her friends would come and think they were saving her from the kook prince and pull her away, sending a glare Rafe’s way. She’s look back at him apologetically and he’d just give her a tight lipped smile and walk to the other side of the party.

Rafe really liked her, he liked making her laugh and smile. He wished he could make her quit her job and just come live with him, he’d take care of her. She’d never have to worry about bills or rent ever again. His friends always made fun of him for flirting with a pogue but he didn’t care. They’d say he was scraping the bottom of the barrel, that he had already gone through all the girls from figure eight so now he was entertaining a pogue. Rafe never let them get away with their jokes. He’d glare at them and punch them in the arm or kick them in the shin. He’d defend her honor saying she’s different and she’s a better friend than they’ll ever be.

All Rafe could do was think about her while he was getting ready. He knew she’d be there and he wanted to look extra nice. Tonight felt like the night he would actually ask her out. Y/n was a good listener, she was always there for him. At first he thought it was just because she was stuck behind the bar so she had to listen to him, but then he’d see her at parties and she still had that look in her eyes. That look that she was listening to him, actually listening to him. He felt like he was on a cloud with the way she looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

When she arrived to the country club she started getting all her things ready, the guests would start arriving in a few minutes. Stocking up on scotch and the best wines, she knew those would be the popular drinks tonight. As she worked diligently her mind wandered to Rafe, like it always did.

She wondered if he’d be the same as always despite his family being here. She wanted nothing more than to spend the night with him, but not while she served him drinks. She wanted to dance with him and drink with him, and then go home together at the end of the night.

Guests had started arriving, her eyes looking out for the dirty blonde. She was so excited and a bit anxious to see him all dressed up, knowing he’d look extra handsome. An hour had passed and she still hadn’t seen him. The country club was now filled with kooks and her tip jar only filled with about $20 when she’s certain she’s made twenty martinis and poured just as many scotch’s.

As she was handing Mrs.Weatherby her glass of merlot smiling at the older woman her eyes caught her favorite blue ones. Rafe stood across the room with Kelce and Topper. He wasn’t paying any attention to what Topper was saying as he watching y/n from across the room. When their eyes met a lopsided smile formed on his lips. Her cheeks felt hot as he looked her up and down, as much as he could despite the bar being in the way.

Y/n begged with her eyes for him to come over, to save her from the boring night. He knew her better than she thought as he started walking over, saying something to the guys that he’d be back. But as he was crossing the room his dad stepped in front of him.

Ward put a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Rafe please, don’t start drinking yet. This is supposed to be a nice night okay? Lets take it slow.” He turned him around to walk out toward the patio.

“Yeah sure dad.” He muttered not wanting to make a scene. He followed him out but looked behind him to catch the eyes of the girl he was infatuated with.

His heart sank a little as he saw her bright eyes dull a little with sadness. She tried her best to put on a smile and not show her disappointment but he knew her better than she thought. Ward had no idea of Rafe’s crush and even if he did he probably wouldn’t care. He’d probably be disappointed in his son for liking someone like her, then he’d tell him that she probably only wants him for his trust.

all of this silence & patience, pining & anticipating, my hands are shaking from holding back from you

The first few hours of the night their eyes just met, hers pleading him to come over and talk to her. Give her something to think about tonight before she went to bed. His eyes begged her to forgive him for not giving her the attention she deserved, especially in that dress. He hoped that she wore it just for him, it made her look ethereal. Rafe’s legs ached from trying to stop himself from walking over and kissing her with everything he had.

As the night went on she was always on his mind. He hated this stupid midsummer’s stuff, mostly because he couldn’t share it with the one person he wanted. It was filled with snobby people and teenager’s getting drunk on booze they had snuck in.

Rafe kept getting stuck in conversations with his dad’s colleagues, Ward wanting him to be more involved in the business. Or he’d be with Topper, Kelce, and some other guys having a meaningless conversation about lacrosse or surfing. Whenever he got the chance he’d look over at her and she’d have a smile on her face handing some old dude a drink. He knew it wasn’t her real smile, then her eyes would look over at him and that’s when her real smile would come out.

“Uh I’m gonna get a drink,” Rafe said trying to excuse himself from his friends. His dad would be fine with him having a drink now, it’s been three hours since the night started. Three hours of his fingers tingling with the want of tucking that hair that kept falling in her face behind her ear.

“I’ll go with you dude. I need a refill,” Topper said holding up his empty glass. Rafe held in the urge to roll his eyes, he wanted to go alone.

y/n was wiping down the bar when they approached. She looked up meeting eyes with her favorite boy, but then she looked over to his left and their Topper was

“What can I get you guys?” She asked looking between them, smiling at Rafe.

“Long island,” Topper said placing his empty glass down.

“Can I get a rum and coke please?” Rafe asked, resting his hands on the bar.

“Of course,” she nodded with a grin.

Rafe watched her as she prepared the drinks. Topper was trying to talk to him about who knows what, he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t pay attention even if he wanted to with that dress she had on. It fit her so perfectly, he wondered what it’d feel like under his hands. What it’d feel like to push it up as he touched the expanse of her thighs. Wondered what it’d feel like to hold her waist as he kissed her. If her skin was as soft as it looked.

“Bro you’re not even listening,” Topped said as he hit Rafe’s shoulder.

“Long island,” Y/n places the drink in front of him.

“You’re right I’m not.” Rafe rolled his eyes.

Topper took his drink without even thanking her, “Whatever dude I’m gonna find Sarah.” Finally Rafe was alone with his girl.

She placed his glass in front of him, “So where have you been all night?”

“Uh my dad didn’t want me to drink earlier,” He shrugged. He knew it was a half assed excuse.

“You don’t need to order a drink to come see me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “I-I know but my dad thought that I was just coming over for a drink.”

She laughed bitterly not at Rafe but at the whole situation, “When I’m with you I forget I’m a uh pogue.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” He reached out to touch her lightly. She leaned into his touch slightly, yearning to feel anything from him.

Her manager walked in, “Y/n, take your fifteen.” Taking over he place behind the bar, Rafe pulled his hand away from her.

“Uh yeah,” She gave him a tight lipped smile before walking to the back room. Rafe sighed and walked back out to where his friends were.

if I get burned at least we were electrified, I’m spilling wine in the bath tub you kiss my face & we’re both drunk

Y/n stood in the back leaning against the wall. She hated this town. She hated the labels everyone put on each other, it made her life so much harder. It was so easy when she was around Rafe even if it was a few minutes at a time. But then there was always something that reminded her of who she was and where she came from. It was either Ward, her friends, Rafe’s friends, her bosses. Someone always had to remind her where she was and who she was.

She rolled her eyes at herself. She walked into the back, in search of a bottle of wine. She found one she thought she’d like, popping it open and pouring herself a glass. Y/n felt like she deserved it, especially after tonight. The night wasn’t going exactly as planned, so she might as well drink.

After three full glasses of red wine her break was over. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to drink while on the clock because now everything looked a little fuzzy.

“I’m back,” She slurred to her manager.

Lisa eyed her suspiciously, ��Are you drunk?”

“No never,” She gave her a toothy grin trying to hide her tipsiness. The alcohol affecting her more and more as the seconds passed.

Lisa sighed, “Y/n you can’t be like this here right now. You know how bad this would look. If you get one of these jerk offs orders wrong and they smell that merlot on your breath they’ll have you banned.” Lisa tried her best to look out for the girl because she knew she didn’t have anyone that was looking out for her.

Her eyes watered at the thought of losing the only job she had been able to get on this whole island, “I-I can’t lose this job. I need this.”

Lisa sighed, “Go home. I’ll cover for you, and you can still keep the tips okay? Only because I care about you.”

Y/n sniffled bringing the older woman into a hug, “Thank you Lisa, I owe you.”

“Get home safe okay, call someone.” Lisa said rubbing her back. She walked (stumbled a bit) to the back to grab her bag.

even in my worst times you could see the best of me

Y/n didn’t know who to call, her friends were all at parties probably drinking as well. Her parents weren’t in her life. The one person who could help her had been watching her from across the room. Concern written all over his face. She looked at him with teary eyes and he was already taking long strides towards her. She met him halfway, the tag from her dress itching her side.

“Rafe,” Her voice was shaky as she hugged herself looking for some comfort. She knew this was all her fault, she shouldn’t have had that wine. She felt like she was always making mistakes like this.

Rafe’s hands held her face, “What happened? Did someone do something?” He asked with worry and a bit of anger. If one of these kooks made his girl cry they’d have him to deal with.

“No no I did something. I-I drank some wine on my break. I’m drunk Rafe and Lisa told me to go home. She um she said she’ll let me keep the tips today but uh can you take me h-home?” She asked barely taking a breath.

He brushed her hair back, “Hey breathe, I’ll take you home okay baby.”

“I’m sorry Rafe, I-I shouldn’t take you away. I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. I’m glad I get to get away from this shit, especially if it’s with you.”

Ward had been watching the interaction from outside. He eyed as his son held the bar tender who he felt was trying to hard to look like she fit in with them, her dirty sneakers gave her away. In her defense you can’t really bartend in heels.

He walked over to them before they could leave, “Uh Rafe, what are you doing?” He didn’t spare a glance at the disheveled girl.

Rafe stood up straight, “I’m taking her home dad.”

“Who is this? The bartender? You can’t leave now. There’s still some guys I need to introduce you to.” He treated her like she was nothing.

“No dad I’m taking her home, this is more important.” Rafe wrapped his arm around her shoulders to lead her towards the exit.

Ward grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him, “Don’t disappoint me son.”

He shrugged his shoulder to get him off, “You’ve made it clear plenty of times that it’s too late for that.”

They didn’t make a big scene but some people had been watching. They watched as the oldest Cameron led the girl outside, a pogue. Tomorrow word would spread all across the island just how cozy they were. Ward would berate Rafe about it but right now he didn’t care, he just wanted to get his girl away from everyone.

Y/n couldn’t believe Rafe had done that for her. He dropped everything for her, she really did feel like he was a prince.

only bought this dress so you could take it off

Rafe kept glancing over at her as he drove to her house. He was worried about her, she looked so sad and he hated seeing her sad. Her head was leaning agains the passenger window just looking out into the darkness.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?” He finally asked breaking the silence.

She sighed looking over at him, “I feel like an idiot.”

“Why?”

“I put on this stupid dress that I can’t even afford and I got too drunk while I was working. I took you away from the party.” She shook her head at herself.

Rafe pulled into the driveway of her small house, her grandma had left it for her after she passed a few years ago. It was the perfect house for her but now she had to work overtime to keep up with bills.

“Lets talk once we get inside,” Rafe turned the car off and ran over to open her door.

They walked into her house, Rafe had never been there. This is the most time they’ve ever been able to spend alone, without anyone being able to interrupt them or pull them away from each other. He liked her house, it was very her. Warm lighting and pictures everywhere. She sat on the couch setting her bag onto the ground.

“You look amazing, this dress looks amazing on you.” He said as he sat next to her. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I wore this for you. I wanted to impress you, instead I embarrassed myself.” She closed her eyes thinking about the events of the night.

Rafe turned to her, “I would drop everything for you. I have been dying inside to spend this night with you.”

“Really?” She asked looking at him with stars in her eyes.

“Yes, baby. And this dress does look amazing on you. You look perfect. I’ve wanted you since the first day we met at the club.” He tucked her hair behind her ear.

Her face flushed at the compliments, “But why? I’m just me. I don’t have anything, I can’t even afford this dress. I’m just a bartender.”

He shook his head, “None of that shit matters to me. You actually listen to me and you care about me more than my shithead friends ever have. I only go to those stupid parties to see you.”

“Rafe, I care about you so much.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. They were slightly swollen from the few tears she had shed earlier in the night. Her lips tasted like merlot she had downed. They moved in sync as if they had been doing this forever. He smelt like expensive cologne and she wanted to drown in it, she wanted to drown in him. His lips felt so good against hers, she had been dreaming about this moment for ages.

Her hands slid up his chest and into his hair. Pulling at the dirty blonde locks to encourage him. Rafe’s hands slid up and down her waist. Finally feeling the dress he had thought about all night. As the kiss grew more passionate he grabbed her hips and tugged her towards him. He pulled her to sit on his lap, her legs on either side of him. His fingers slowly slid up her thighs pushing her dress farther up, almost fully around her hips. Y/n’s thighs were just as soft as he imagined. His mind was racing with thoughts of everything he wanted to do to her.

The small whines that left her lips encouraged him to keep going. One hand moving behind her to give her ass a squeeze. He pulled away to press kisses against her neck making goosebumps rise on her skin. Her hands moving back and forth from tugging his hair to pulling at his blazer to get him impossibly closer.

“Baby,” He mumbled against her neck. She just hummed in return, too lost in the feeling of his lips on her. Tasting her like she’s always wanted him to.

“I want to keep going, but I know you’ve drank tonight. I want you to be be a hundred percent sober when I do everything I’ve always dreamed about doing to you,” He said looking up at her. He almost regretted his words and took her right then and there when he saw her swollen lips and hazy lust filled eyes.

She took a deep breath to get herself to focus. Her senses were overloaded on Rafe, “Okay, can you stay? Please?”

He leaned forward giving her another kiss, “Of course, I’ll always stay.”

[cameronspecial]

Some People Can Change

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Swearing, Mentions of Drugs and Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Rafe really does want to change, but what happens if nobody else believes he can?

A/N: Rafe isn't a murderer and doesn't hide dead bodies in this one-shot, but everything else he does in Canon happens.

Masterlist

Y/N Y/L/N was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Rafe wasn’t planning on interacting with her after she left his bedroom. He was a Kook and she was a Pogue, who worked as a bartender at the club. However, when he woke up the next morning to the smell of frying bacon and the sound of “Dance The Night” accompanied by her dance moves, he knew she wasn’t really going to be leaving his life after today. Plus, her advice was life-saving. “I think I’m going to do something really bad,” he confessed to her, sitting at the kitchen island with coffee in hand. She looked at him in understanding, “Well, you said going to, which implies it has happened yet. And if it hasn’t happened, then you always have a chance to fix it. It’s up to you to own the fact that you recognize it isn’t good and to stop it.” This led to Rafe stopping the murder of his father that he put into action. 

———

Ever since that day, Rafe is not often seen without his arm around Y/N, looking at her like she is his world. Because she is. He knows she wouldn’t put up with the shit that he pulls on a normal basis, so he made an effort to stop his vices. He is just grateful she is relatively new to town and hasn’t had the chance yet to hear the gossip about him. This means he has a chance to turn his life around before she finds out. But no one in his life actually believes he can change. 

“I told you, Barry. I’m not dealing or using anymore. Not cocaine, not weed. I gotta go cold turkey,” Rafe reiterates, sliding the drugs and gun towards the pogue. “And I certainly don’t need this gun anymore.” Barry shakes his head and pushes the item back toward Rafe, “You really think you are going to last man? You aren’t going to be able to stay away from these just because of her. You can’t change man.” “You’re wrong. Every time I do drugs, I’m making the conscious decision to turn towards them. Y/N is helping me realize that I have other ways of coping with my issues,” he gestures his hand toward his chest to prove himself. “Come on, Country Club. Just take them back.” Rafe grows frustrated with this conversation. Instead of fighting back and yelling at the dealer, he tries to take deep breaths to calm himself. It sort of works, but nobody is perfect. So he storms out of the trailer with the loud clang of the front door closing behind him. 

He gets home from Barry’s storming into the living room with his anger clear on his face. “Love, what’s wrong?” Y/N poses, lowering the volume of the TV. Rafe gives her a harsh look, “WHAT THE F-!” He can’t finish his yelling because Y/N is already gently placing her hand on his sternum to guide his breathing. “I know you are angry about something, right now, but that gives you no right to displace that anger towards me. So if you feel the need to release this negative energy, then I would like for you to channel this feeling through working out, please. I’ll come to see you to talk after half an hour.” Rafe knows that she is correct and she probably got these ideas from a psychology book she bought. God, she’s so smart. 

Rafe heads up to the punching bag in his room and starts throwing punches at it. As promised, she comes to check on him after some time. “Now that we’ve calmed down, do you want to talk about it?” Y/N inquires, bringing his hands into her smaller ones and giving his bruised knuckles a kiss. He nods at her, “Yeah, I just went to give something back to a… uh… a friend and he insisted that I still needed it. It was frustrating.” His subconscious knew the problem was deeper than that and this caused tears to threaten to spill. Rafe is quick to hide his face behind his palms. 

“Somehow I don’t believe that this is the true root of your crying. Do you think you can talk about it?”

“Uhh, no. I don’t think I truly know what I’m feeling. Can we just cuddle and think instead?”

Y/N is happy to oblige, lying down on the bed and opening her arms so he can rest his head on her chest. 

———

“No, Rafe. I have to tell Y/N. She deserves to know,” Sarah argues, making her way back into the house from the back patio. Rafe is quick to follow her. At the same time, Y/N is heading towards the same door from the bathroom. “Tell me what?” Sarah turns towards the girl, ready to tell her about Rafe’s faults. 

“Rafe is a liar and thief and violent and a drug addict. He isn’t a good person, sweetie!” 

“I may not have been a good person and I admit to being everything you’ve said but I’m trying to change. Y/N helped me realize that I need to change.”

“Ooh, like you can change. Honestly, no offense Y/N, but we both know this road to redemption act is all going to go away once you get bored of her.” 

Rafe wants to yell that it isn’t true what Sarah is saying, but he remembers the breathing exercises Y/N taught to help calm down and puts those into practice. He knows adding more anger to this argument is just going to lead toward a slippery slope of words he will regret. 

“You may believe that, but I don’t. So I’m sorry I stole the cross and melted it down. I know that it can’t bring back the artifact for Pope. But I’ve already given the money I got from it to Pope and made a donation with my own money to the church.”

“Well good for you, doing one good thing to not feel guilty and to tell Y/N you are a good person.”

“I know about all of this already. Thank you for wanting to tell me, Sarah, but I already know everything and I would like to get the rest of the information straight from Rafe, now,” Y/N interrupts the argument before it becomes never-ending. Rafe’s palms are pressed into his eyes and she knows he is trying to hide his tears. She does not allow the conversation to continue; instead, brings him upstairs and moves his hands from his face. She wipes the tears away and presses a kiss to his forehead, “You don’t have to hide your tears away from me.”

“Why can’t anyone believe I can change? What if everyone is right?”

“Don’t say that. I believe that maybe not everyone can change, but some people can change. And you are definitely a part of some people.”

“How can you say that about me with everything you’ve known about all this time?”

“Because the Rafe that I was told about would’ve ended that argument with violence. He was violent, rude, a liar, stole and relied on drugs like it was water. The one before me approached that argument with recognition of his wrongdoing. He is working on his anger, is polite, tells me the truth, always pays for me and attends NA. He is one month sober. That is how I know you have changed.”

“Nobody else believes I can.”

“I know, love. I know it hurts. But right now let’s just focus on who does believe. You and Me. Then we can use this belief to prove everyone else wrong.”

“Okay, I can do that. I love you, Y/N/N.”

“ I love you too, love.”

[vodkababy]

love story . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁💐

౨ৎ inspired with the song love story by indila !!

౨ৎ s1! rafe x fem! pogue! reader

౨ৎ angst, mentions of drugs, drinking, & fluff

౨ৎ takes place in midsummers - rafey baby so handsome there

you met him at that state he was - relying on barry and his coke to calm his senses down. soon along, you became friends. he was your rock, and you were his.

of course - his sister, sarah had seen the unmistaken look in her troubled brother’s eyes, of which ones were dilated & jittery by the euphoria had turned serene and much more.. adoring?

no. that didn’t sound like the big bad rafe everyone knew and had on their books.

he had changed - because of a stupid girl. a stupid pogue. surely, he wouldn’t let that affect his family’s name! but god, he was wrong.

he’d grown fond of you, come to think of it - you weren’t like “your people” as he said it. he’d seen her as a sweet and caring person— something he lacked in his life.

so as you and him exchanged glances at the country club— you were a bartender, just serving him a glass of wine— you couldn’t help but be drawn to the man who sat across you in that little taupe barstool.

“i haven’t seen you here,” the blue eyed boy stared at you up and down.

“i just started a couple days ago.” she replied softly.

it only started like that. what could possibly go wrong?

it wasn’t until 10 months into it. midsummers was nearing— rafe had invited you to be his plus one. he was shy- a little bit jittery- and he handed you a flower.

“for me?” she said in awe, looking at the peony he had gotten her.

“yes you.” rafe had replied— coldly. he didn’t want to come off like a pussy, as his friends top and kelce called him for being too shy.

apart from you being a pogue, he had no issues. you were the first one he didn’t get into bad terms with, which surprisingly shocked you. —and shocked him too. he didn’t expect to fall hard, head over heels for you.

that led to him, on the following night of the next friday—waiting.

you had doubts, being a pogue in an all-kook annual party, you had your dress ready, hair done, but what else was there to it? you couldn’t do it. you couldn’t bring yourself to walk to your car to drive to figure 8. you couldn’t let yourself ruin the cameron name. you would never make an attempt to embarrass your lover. you were just a bartender— not some silverspoon-born girl.

he had a rose in his hand, constantly pacing across the room, his hand running through his hair, pushing it back. he felt himself getting hot, the camerons were about to come out, so where were you?

surely— you wouldn’t blow him off; he thought.

was he crazy? he kept checking his phone, looking at your contact. he checked your photos on his phone gallery, trying to calm himself down.

“rafe!” rose, his step-mother calls, telling him they have to go out of the door since the party’s starting. he runs a hand through his hair, and tries to breathe calmly.

the whole party, he had expected you to be with him. he had expected your hand in his, your arm linked with his, and your head on his shoulder. but where were you to be found?

he quickly typed on your contact;

—where are you sent 7:22

you immediately see the notification pop up, you were crying, you couldn’t bring yourself to text him back. you were breaking his heart and yours too.

it had been minutes since he sent that. no text backs?

—y/n sent 7:31

—why aren’t you here?? sent 7:32

—i thought you were coming w me sent 7:32

—i even bought you a damn dress sent 7:32

—y/n answer right fucking now sent 7:34

that was all it took to piss rafe off. you were blowing him off? he was furious— almost crushed a glass on how hard he was gripping it.

the whole night, he couldn’t sleep. what were you doing? all he could think of was you. does she even like me? does she still care? he sees you everywhere.

the next day, he checked his phone. no reply. he decided to drive to the country club in which— you were working at.

he was surprised to hear you didn’t come in this morning, supposedly calling in sick. lies. he thought. he knew you had a brain on you, and that you were quite smart in times like these. but right now, it wasn’t helping.

for the past week—he had been driving to the country club everyday, checking on you. which was not left unnoticed by ward.

“the fuck is on my credit card bills, boy? all from the country club?” ward asked rafe furiously.

“it’s just drinks.” rafe answered defensively, not wanting to talk to his dad anymore.

“put it on your card! not mine. you have your own card for that—“

“look, dad— the money—“

“what about the goddamn money!? you out of cash, rafe? see. this is what happens if you don’t bother to be responsible, to think! you don’t think, rafe! and to say i was the one who raised you.. god.” ward answered hastily, leaving the room with him massaging his own temples.

rafe was outraged. this whole week had turned for the worse, you were supposed to be there for him. but where were you?

his frustration brought him back to his worst behaviors. he spent his days at barry’s. snorting the white lines of fine powder.

“country club. what’s gotten you all knees for the c dust?”

“hard week, barry. don’t remind me.” rafe answered angrily, just wanting to get over it.

“i hear you haven’t been seein’ your girl, huh?”

“—so what!?”

“chill, chill, you’re actin’ out. she’s a pogue.”

“i haven’t seen her in a goddamn week. i don’t fuckin’ care if she’s one. she’s everything i think of, fuck.”

and that led to him, driving to your house at the cut. hearing a knock on your door, your mom calls you to open it while she was in the kitchen.

“rafe—“ she spoke softly, until she got cut off by his lips on hers. he smelled of beer. had he been drinking?

worried, she pulled him up to her room secretly. looking around to see if anyone was near them or could hear.

“have you been drinking?” she asked sadly. what had she done? all of that because of her? only a lazy nod was what she got from him, quickly laying him down on her bed.

“i’m sorry rafe.”

“what happened y/n? i thought you were gonna come and you’d be my date— i even bought you a fucking dress. a goddamn dress because i wanted you to look gorgeous that night. and what do i get? a dead rose and an absent woman—“

“i’m so sorry, please i promise you i am-“

“promise me.. everything’s alright between us baby.” rafe spoke softly with a drawl, grabbing your hand and intertwining it with yours as he stared at the ceiling. the lights were off and his only source was the one coming from the moon out the window, that cascaded your features.

“i do,” she replied with her voice slightly breaking. she leant down to hug him tight. she felt so sorry for him.

“i just- i dream of you. i- i fucking want you with me y/n, baby, stay with me, but i don’t- i don’t know how to love..” “fuck. i’m such a mess. dad’s on my ass again about the money- then you go fucking vague!”

“rafe, rafe, i’m so-“

“no, stop! just please- stop saying that.”

“i didn’t want- i couldn’t go anymore. i’m not rich, rafe. i’m not a kook for crying out loud! i just- i just didn’t wanna embarrass you,“

“no, baby, don’t say that,” he said, wrapping her lips in his.

“i’ll give you everything. i’ll give you gold if you don’t care, i’ll wait for you, i don’t give a fuck if you’ll ignore me- i’d even kill for you, baby.” rafe muttered.

she only looks at him with tears in her eyes, him wrapping his arms around her, wiping her tears away and kissing her.

“don’t fuckin’ pull shit like that on me again, mkay?” he hummed against her lips aggressively, pulling away.

“i’m sorry,” she sighed, feeling a tear stab my eye. “i just—didn’t want to try to fit in to be someone i’m not.” “i’m so sorry rafe,” she softly sobbed in his arms.

“shh, shh, it’s just you and me baby, i love you.” he whispered, rubbing your back.

“—i love you too.” she replied. nobody would possibly believe it but, love makes a fool of the kook king

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ 💐 ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ .

by drewsprettygirl 𝜗𝜚

[itneverendshere]

the thought of rafe taking care of his newborn. maybe mama went to shower and she comes out and she hears the baby just hard crying and she checks on them, and rafes covered in spit up and he’s trying to sponge bath her in the kitchen sink softly talking to her

mini version of myself livin' in me - r.c

pairing: pogue!reader x rafe (bartender!reader universe) warnings: none.

the warm spray of water and the scent of lavender swarmed around you like a hug as you stood under the pressure shower.

it had been one of those long days—your baby girl's cries louder than usual, her needs more demanding, and your sleep-deprived body feeling drained.

but the thought of rafe taking care of her while you finally took a moment for yourself brought a giddy smile to your face.

once you were done, you turned off the water, wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, and stepped out, only to still be welcomed by the sound of your daughter’s cries across the house, louder and more urgent.

your heart thudded as you reached the source, feet still damp against the wooden floor.

the sight in the kitchen made you stop.

rafe stood by the sink, his broad back slightly hunched as he leaned over your baby girl.

his shirt was splattered with spit-up, damp spots spreading across his chest and sleeves, a wet dishtowel in hand, and completely focused on autumn.

your baby was in the sink, squirming and red-faced, he cradled her with one arm while using the other to gently sponge her down with a damp cloth.

his hair, usually perfectly messy, stuck to his forehead in damp strands, and there was a smear of baby lotion on his cheek.

autumn's tiny fists waved in the air, her cries coming in shuddering gasps, his thumb tracing delicate circles on her belly, his expression infinitely tender.

“shh, i know. almost done. i promise,” he planted a soft kiss on her forehead before continuing to gently wash her.

she let out another hiccuped wail and his voice continued as a low, soothing hum.

“hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he cooed, running the cloth over her chubby arms. “daddy’s here.”

her cries came in hiccups now, and you watched, heart swelling twice in size, as rafe chuckled to himself despite the chaos around him.

“you’re tough, just like your mama."

you leaned against the doorway, a warm smile spreading across your face. there he was, the man you fell in love with, completely wrapped up in his role as a father, covered in spit-up and unfazed.

he must have sensed your presence, because he turned, his blue eyes lighting up with relief when they met yours.

“hey,” he said, a little sheepishly. “didn’t hear you come in.”

“looks like you two had fun,” you mused, moving closer.

your gaze fell on the little face that looked back at you, blue eyes wide and tear-streaked. the hiccupped sobs had quieted, and her tiny fingers now curled and uncurled, reaching for something familiar.

“yeah,” rafe said with a lopsided smile, running a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier. “but we’re good, right, little lady?” he leaned down and rubbed his nose lightly against hers, eliciting a soft, surprised coo from autumn.

you rested your hand on his damp arm and he shifted slightly so you could see her better.

you stroked her chubby cheek, your fingers tracing the perfect features that were a blend of both of you.

“she’s calmer now,” you said, the tension in your body unwinding as you looked at your husband.

“only because you’re here,” he replied, turning his head to plant a quick, affectionate kiss on your temple. the way his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes made you fall in love all over again.

“you’re soaked,” you laughed, brushing your thumb over the damp splotch on his shoulder.

“hazards of the job,” he said, smirking. “but she’s worth it.”

suddenly, the tiniest sound broke—a quick, unmistakable baby fart.

there was a second of silence as rafe’s eyes widened comically, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up.

“did she just…” you started, your voice already filled with laughter.

rafe’s expression changed from disbelief to a look of exaggerated dread.

he shot you a pleading look, brows raised. “i don’t even wanna check. please, for the love of all that’s holy, tell me she didn’t shart on my hand again.”

you covered your mouth, failing to stop a giggle from spilling out, and took a step forward to peer at your daughter, who now seemed quite content, eyes wide and bright.

“oh, she definitely did,” you nodded.

he groaned, head tilting back as if appealing to the heavens.

“why me?” he asked, half-joking, half-resigned, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.

“because you’re her dad,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “and she already knows you’re wrapped around her little finger.”

rafe rolled his eyes, looking down at autumn, who gave a soft, innocent coo. “yeah, yeah. you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“she’s definitely yours,” you added, brushing your hand over her growing hair. “she farts just like you.”

his jaw dropped, eyes wide.

“excuse me?” he sputtered, hand on his chest as if you’d just hit him with the worst insult imaginable. “are you serious right now?”

you laughed, the sound coming out so naturally that even your baby seemed to sense the lightheartedness, letting out a warbling giggle of her own.

“i mean, the resemblance is uncanny,” you added, doubling down.

he leaned in closer. “for the record, my farts are silent,” he declared, trying to keep a straight face.

“...if you say so,” you drew out the words with mock skepticism.

rafe’s mouth fell open in playful indignation.

“hey! i barely fart in front of you!” he said, defensiveness in his voice as he pointed at you.

“sure, sweetheart,” you replied, giving him a patronizing pat on the arm. your grin widened when you saw his eyes narrow in faux irritation.

“no, really!” he protested, shaking his head and trying not to smile. “you make me sound like i’m just walking around the house, letting loose left and right.”

you leaned in, your voice low, “rafe, there was that one time on movie night—”

“oh, come on! that was once!” he said, throwing his hands up in exaggerated defeat.

his sudden movement made your daughter wiggle in his arms, and she let out a content gurgle as if agreeing with you.

“see? even she remembers,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“great. now i’m outnumbered in my own house,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

you pressed another kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“don’t worry, daddy. we still love you, gas and all.”

rafe was already halfway through a shit-eating grin when you rolled your eyes so deep into the back of your skull.

“grow up,” you scoffed, arching an eyebrow. “you don’t have to smirk every time i call you ‘daddy.’”

rafe chuckled, entirely unapologetic, “what? it’s not my fault you say it in that voice!”

“i hope she shits on you again.”

he let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest in feigned betrayal. "wow. cursing me with more spit-up and sharts? you’re cruel.”

autumn let out a loud noise, drawing your attention back to her. she gazed up at rafe with wide, adoring eyes, her tiny fingers wrapping around his thumb.

his voice softened as he looked down at her, completely captivated.

“guess i wouldn’t mind a few more spit-ups,” he confessed, a look of pure love in his eyes.

you smiled as you watched them. “lucky for you, i don’t think she’s done with those anytime soon.”

i cannot confirm or deny if this was also inspired by mads fart video on ig

[mymelodylvr]

rafe cameron x pogue!bartender!waitress!reader moodboard

her instagram bio has a fiona apple quote in it, she hates rafe and and his friends (she hates most people who go to the country club she works at), she plays guitar, she uses most of her money from her waitressing job to feed stray animals, she grew up best friends with JJ, John B, and Pope, she's the complete opposite of Rafe. One night, when she's feeling particularly bad about herself and Rafe is at the bar in the country club after a fight with Ward, they're both vulnerable- you know the rest.

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 13

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

"Are you busy?"

The phone call came at the stroke of midnight. Rafe had just gotten away from a lengthy discussion with his father regarding the open properties around Kildare and wanted nothing more than to crash out. But he answered without hesitation when your name flashed across the screen.

"No," he pauses. "Do you need me?"

You do, but you're reluctant to confirm that piece of information. Flattening your lips on the other line, you rub the back of your hand over your tired eyes as a prolonged silence engulfs the call.

But Rafe understands. With a firm I'm coming over, he disconnects the call to pick up his keys.

You've been home for a couple days now, having stayed at Tannyhill for a little over a week. However, with Sarah's return, you felt you'd overstayed your welcome and needed to part ways. Despite Rafe's protests, you insisted, needing to find your own space in the aftermath of everything.

He had hated the way you phrased it. That you needed a place without him.

When he reaches your driveway, Rafe discerns two silhouettes on your porch. Adrenaline spikes, assuming it was Aaron—and that was the reason for your distress call—but upon closer inspection, with the headlights of his car glaring in that direction, the clarity hits.

Maybank and Heyward.

His stomach twists at the realization that he wasn't your first recipient. That you went back to your roots before coming to him. Now, more than ever, Rafe has a bleeding need for some security, to be your first choice.

He doesn't like to be set in the backseat to a pair of Pogues.

Turning off the ignition, Rafe exits the vehicle just as Heyward and Maybank launch from your porch steps with rigid defense. Their eyes narrow at him in suspicion as he stalks up the long pebbled pavement.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" Pope interrogates in lieu of a greeting.

Rafe scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "How is that any of your business, Pogue?"

JJ jumps in. "If you're here for Aaron—"

"I'm not," Rafe snaps, not liking any association with the loan shark, before admitting, "She called me."

A moment of suspense punctures the air before JJ disrupts it, shaking his head with disbelief. "Bullshit. Why the fuck would she contact a Kook?"

It's an insult, the way Maybank's lips curled with the title and Rafe huffs. He doesn't owe him any explanation and certainly won't give one. Stepping forward, Rafe attempts to enter your house, only for the two boys to block his path.

"Move," Rafe commands lowly.

Pope tries to meditate. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but she's been through some things and we don't want any more problems—"

Rafe doesn't bother listening to whatever else he has to say. He knows. He knows what you've been through and he's here because of it, not to add to it. But the accusation is thick on Pope's tongue, fueling his irritation. He attempts to shove past both of them, only for JJ to push back.

Shouting stirs you awake. That's a lie. You've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, hoping it'll lull you to sleep, only for the act to be unproductive. When you start to hear sounds coming from outside, you know Rafe arrived.

Pushing past the screen door, you step out onto the porch to witness JJ and Rafe in the middle of a standoff.

Charged words thrown back and forth, you recognize the dark look behind Rafe's gaze as JJ keeps pushing Rafe's chest—one full of deep agitation, seconds away from snapping.

Your stomach flips with nausea.

"Back off, JJ," you announce sharply to the open yard, causing the trio to direct their attention to you. You briefly connect your gaze with Rafe before turning to the younger blond. "I called him."

JJ's hands drop from Rafe's chest, taking a step back, but there's a look of unsteadiness behind his gaze. Confusion spreads across his hard features while his mouth twists into an ugly scowl. "For what?"

"Does it matter?" You refute, avoiding his question. JJ cocks his head, only for you to add, "You can go home now."

JJ frowns, turning to Pope as they exchange a silent debate. When all Pope could give is a casual shrug, knowing it's your decision at the end of the day, JJ turns back to you.

"You could've let us stay," JJ reasons, throwing a harsh glance over his shoulder at Rafe. "What could a Kook do for you?"

"It's fine. He's my…" You trail off, unable to find the right words to label Rafe. Your initial ideas are too compromising. And Rafe doesn't want your relationship to be seen as complicated to the Kook public, since your interactions could circulate back to Ward. But here, in the sanction of The Cut, you know there's no intersection. No need for security. You shake your head with a tired yet reassuring smile. "It's okay. I appreciate you guys' help."

Rafe hates how you didn't say it.

With a heavy sigh, JJ nods. "Alright," he says, clapping his hands and signaling Pope to descend off the porch. They pair off as they head home and, sparing one last glance at Rafe—who's ascending up the short steps to approach you—JJ bids a final farewell. "Call us if you need anything."

Rafe's arm wraps protectively around your waist. "She won't."

You roll your eyes, shoulders relaxing from their rigid stance, as you watch their departing figures. Once they're no longer in view, you take his arm and tug him into your house.

The short stroll to your bedroom is mostly silent and Rafe takes inventory of your home for any disturbance. Since he ordered that cleaning service, your house is significantly cleaner. You had initially refused his charity but he refused to take no for an answer and you ended up with a grade-A cleaning company that polished your home from all the broken debris and dangerous hazards.

But that wasn't the problem.

When Rafe steps into your bedroom, it's an absolute mess. Pillows are skewed across the floor, your sheets wrinkled and tangled upon each other, and piles of your clothes are thrown together into a pile next to your closet. It greatly contrasts the environment outside your door.

"Shit," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through your body. You move from his touch to do some quick cleaning—throwing your pillows back on the bed, picking up dirty clothes, and tossing them into the hamper.

Abashment increases with each of your frantic steps, to the point that Rafe has to grab your elbow to stop you in place. "Hey," he says softly, lifting your gaze to his, "I don't mind."

You don't say anything. Fatigue pours into the very crevices of your bones. But despite the urge to be presentable, Rafe is a comfort. A clutch. And it's getting dangerous seeing how much you lean on him.

It's on the tip of your tongue to push him away. To tell him to go back home. But he beats you to it, glancing at the door.

"Where's your sister?" Rafe asks. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," you answer, "They're sleeping."

You assumed Amara and Leilani would deal with the same troubles as you, but when you checked up on them, they were out like a light.

Rafe examines you carefully: the way you shift your weight from one leg to the next, the way your hands slightly tremble, and the clear indication of sleep deprivation from the darkened shades ringed around your eyes.

He understands now.

"And you're not?"

Your jaw locks before unwinding. "I'm sorry."

He wants to eradicate that phrase from your vocabulary.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he argues. "You have a problem and you called me. I'm here to help."

Rafe's words are adamant and warms your chest but guilt presses like glass against your heart. "Were you busy?"

"Doesn't matter."

You frown. But the look in his eyes is genuine and honest. You take a step back to separate from him, needing your own air. As of late, everything you own is his. "I…" You exhale a large breath, voice shaky. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong."

"Is it because of Aaron?"

You hesitate before nodding once.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, and I think that's the problem." You expel another breath. "I'm on edge all the time. My chest feels heavy and tight and my head hurts." You pause, before choking out. "I'm just so exhausted."

Rafe closes the distance and wraps his strong arms around you as you sink into his chest. You inhale, taking in the faded smell of his cologne.

"I hate this," you mumble, balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. "I hate that I can't sleep. I hate that I'm always stressed. I hate that—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much. Swallowing hard, you attempt to salvage your words. "I just hate that I'm like this."

Frustration oozes out of you and Rafe hates to see you in this state. However, he'll admit, having you vulnerable and open is a welcoming change. You're allowing him a chance to see a side of you no one else has the privilege to and he deeply treasures your trust.

He'll do anything to preserve it.

Rafe massages delicate circles into the small of your back, soothing the aches in your bones as you melt into his arms. "It's okay," he reassures with a sweet mumble, "I'm here. What do you need from me?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

"No sex." You withdraw enough for him to meet your solemn gaze, "No touching. I don't want to do anything other than sleep."

"Okay." He agrees slowly, his voice is unsteady because of your accusatory tone.

"I'm serious, Rafe," you proclaim. "I know we like to mess around, but I'm too tired. I don't want to fuck tonight."

Rafe's expression is unreadable, stonewalling his emotions the moment those words slipped from your lips. Did you think he only sees you as a fuck buddy?

"I said okay," he snaps, a little sharper than intended, but you pretend not to acknowledge it. You misunderstand it as him being upset over the celibacy rule imposed tonight, but that wasn't the case.

You swallow hard, not wanting his aggression to roll over into bed. "Rafe," you begin, feeling guilty, "if you don't want to, it's fine—"

"I never said that," he cuts you off, not wanting the implication to be read that he doesn't want you here. He does. It hurts him that you think he sees you as nothing—when that's far from the truth. He just can't seem to say it. "I just..." His jaw tightens. "Let's just go to bed."

Your lips pull together into a thin line, wanting to address the issue, but deciding you cannot handle an argument tonight. Nodding, you separate from him and move to one side of the bed. Rafe does the same.

You thought Rafe would take some precaution to add distance between you but he doesn't. You can feel the overwhelming radiation of his body heat, the indication of his proximity in close range, and it causes your breath to be still.

You can't handle it. You need distance. You need space. It's too intimate otherwise, and you can't afford that.

Pulling yourself to the ledge, with your back facing Rafe, you inhale a deep set of breaths to soothe the tension in your body. To pretend you don't feel the heat of his gaze. "Goodnight."

He doesn't answer at first, before he reciprocates with a night and you close your eyes to sleep.

Rafe watches you. The first few minutes are normal, but as time passes, you can't seem to relax in your position. Twisting and turning, your eyes remain closed throughout. The only sound is the soft breaths escaping you to indicate your sleepy state—or, at least, the closest attempt at it.

His mind still lingers on your earlier words. Do you think he doesn't care about you? Beyond intimacy? Is that why you called Maybank and Heyward first?

Rafe never thought you had an issue with it. That you were perfectly content with the arrangement. But the accusation on your tongue gave a different interpretation. Do you want more? Or, is he driving himself insane with the idea of you being his and only his?

Lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, Rafe didn't even realize that you moved closer. Your back now facing the wall as one of your arms extends outward, draped across his chest.

He freezes. Rafe assumes it's an accident, something you'll retract in a matter of seconds. But when your arm reaches out again, seeking the curve of his neck, he realizes it isn't.

You want him.

Taking it as a sign, Rafe lowers himself to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling your weight onto him. The moment you're in his embrace, chest resting against his, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. And, in return, Rafe nuzzles into the open crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"No touching, huh?" He mumbles into the softness of your skin as a gentle taunt. But when there's nothing but the sound of shallow breaths and the emptiness of replies, Rafe realizes you truly fell asleep.

You reached for him unconsciously.

His heart races at the implication, before calming to a normal rate, matching the steady guided pace of your own breaths. His grip around your body tightens, squeezing the soft flesh because, at that moment, he doesn't ever want to let you go.

"You need me," Rafe murmurs the confirmation in the column of your throat, hoping the words would sink through. "And I need you too."

—

By morning, you're gone.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Every time he spends the night, there's a brief hope that the outcome for the morning will be different. That you'll remain in his arms, sleeping soundly. It never happens. And despite the subtle ache in his bones from the weight of your body on top of his all night, it beats the ache in his heart.

Sighing, after washing up, Rafe exits your bedroom to discover you sitting on one of the stools. A leg propped on the flat seat, your chin rests on your kneecap while you're flipping through some old documents.

"Morning," Rafe says, falling into the space next to yours.

"Shit," you swear, nearly jumping out of your own skin, a hand covering your accelerated heart. You hadn't heard him coming. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his eyes scanning over your refreshed face. "You sleep okay?"

You nod, recalling the memory of this morning. Curled up on his arms, head buried in the curve of his neck, your body pressed against his. At first, you assumed Rafe had pulled you in, but that wasn't possible. He wouldn't go against your directive. It was all you.

The corner of his mouth rises at the recognition dawning on your face. Before he gets the chance to make some comment about your neediness, you cut him off. "Don't," you warn, feeling a rush of heat rising to your cheeks.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I see it on your face,"

He scoffs, but the smile remains. "You're right," he relents, leaning closer, shortening the distance between you until he's right before you. "I was thinking of it."

Your eyes catch him and the teasing glint behind his gaze, causing your breath to shorten. You expel a breath, trying to release some tension in your shoulders, before you clarify, "All we did was sleep."

"Yeah, but you slept on me," his voice drops a full octave, "Admit it, sweetheart, you want me. Why else would you want me here?"

You search his face, trying to figure out what he wants. What he's trying to get out of you. But you find nothing tangible. Refusing to put yourself in another position of vulnerability when Rafe has done nothing to balance the scale, you scale back, adding space. "I just—I needed someone I trust."

You don't acknowledge that his assertion is correct. That the one time you fell asleep peacefully was in his arms. Or, perhaps, it wasn't necessarily about trust but about him. Instead, you pretend it's something else, something vague and general, hoping one day it will.

"Someone," Rafe repeats. "Or me?"

You avoid the question.

And Rafe assumes the former.

Dropping your gaze to the files, the air stiffens into a palpable silence. Your fingers thread through the records, pretending to search for something, when all you can feel is the thumping of your heartbeat in your veins.

Rafe releases a sigh. The elation of his state quickly deflates after your rejection. Again. He doesn't know how much longer he can take before it truly destroys him. Deciding to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asks, "Do you want me to stay again?"

"No, it's fine," you shake your head, dismissing the proposition out of habit. Even though it would bring you peace, the rational side of your brain determines the distance necessary to protect yourself. Becoming too reliant on Rafe would add nothing but pain. "You can go home," you pause, considering how to lighten the mood, "I bet the mattress here sucks in comparison to your one-million thread counts, huh?"

There's a strain to your voice; a telltale sign. Rafe ignores your words and focuses on what he does best: reading your body language. With squared shoulders and an avoidant gaze, he knows your words are far from the truth. You just don't know how to ask for what you want.

So, he proposes a different question.

"But can you sleep?"

You don't answer.

"I'll stay then," he decides, as if he's reading an item off a menu. Before you get a chance to object, Rafe shifts closer, tugging the corner of a document. "What's this?"

Your mouth closes, shoulders slouching from how quickly he changes the topic. It almost makes you smile. Deciding it would be better than fighting it, you explain that you're reviewing your Sailor bank accounts to see what money you can spare without harming the business. However, the issue is that you can't seem to find any gaps.

Rafe's brows furrow together as he listens, asking permission to take a look at your statements himself. His eyes scan through the billing, before asking. "Why don't you sell the business and work elsewhere?"

"You're not funny," you declare, attempting to pull the document away, but his grip remains firm. His eyes are set on yours.

"I'm not joking," he declares. "It could help a lot. I mean, you'll earn more than what you're earning here."

He isn't wrong. At this point in time, you would profit more by working as a bartender than a business owner. But that's not the point.

"Sailor is my family's legacy," you explain, believing his question was not an attack on your qualification but rather from a strictly logical standpoint. "It and my sisters are the most important things in my life."

Rafe hums, and he doesn't add anything else. You don't know if he gets it. "Let me ask you something: why do you want Cameron Development so badly?"

He goes rigid. He's never been asked that question before. Never had to articulate his reasoning. It makes him uncomfortable to be interviewed—especially if it's to you of all people. "I don't know," he declares noncommittally, glancing at his lap, "I always assumed I would get it. I'm the oldest."

You shake your head. Not out of mistrust, but because you know him. Rafe isn't as simple-minded as the rest of Kildare likes to believe. There has to be more. "I don't believe that," you say gently, "Try again."

His expression morphs into a charming smile. A facade to hide. "Do I get something if I talk?"

You roll your eyes. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

His smile drops, but you don't pick it up. He shouldn't have said that, but it's too late. Your expression is easygoing and loose, a detachment to your words as if you truly believe and accept that perception of how he views you.

Instead of addressing his feelings, he tries to articulate what he meant before.

"I don't know," Rafe starts again, in a low mumble, his voice more vulnerable than it was moments prior. "Business was the one thing I got. I... I didn't excel in academics and I didn't like sports that much. But with Cameron Development, it was the one thing me and my dad could sit down and talk about and I didn't feel like a big disappointment to him."

He never said those words out loud before, and the confession sounds pathetic, but the way your eyes soften and your head nods along as you listen with no judgment, it gives him the confidence to continue forward.

"I... I get it, you know? The numbers don't scare me and the logic makes sense. It's the one thing I have going for me and to know that my dad is considering giving it to Sarah... It hurts. Like, she has everything and I can't even have the one thing I'm good at."

His voice cracks at the end, and his gaze has since dropped to the floor, hands messing and rubbing the calloused skin of the other.

You reach forward to cup the side of his face, and lift his head, meeting his sensitive gaze. "It isn't fair," you run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone, trying to soothe the ache of his admission. "It truly isn't. I wish I could make it better for you."

Too gentle. Too loving. In the comfort of your touch, Rafe speaks before he can stop himself. "Sometimes I think if I have you, I'll be fine with the world."

Your breathing stills. Rafe did too. You don't know if you misheard him, or if he's implying something else, but before you can seek clarification, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it." Rafe swiftly pulls away, moving to the exit. His hands clench by his side, teeth grinding, regret coursing through his veins at the mistake of letting his emotions overtake him back there.

He shouldn't have said that.

When he opens the door, without checking the peephole, JJ stands behind it.

"Oh, you're still here," JJ declares with a hint of bewilderment. "Didn't think she kept dogs past noon."

Rafe's already on edge from the previous conversation that he has little patience for the Pogue. Seconds away from slamming the door on Maybank's smug face, you appear by Rafe's side, stopping him and inviting JJ in. He steps into your living room, holding something in his hands.

"What's that?" You point to the crumpled note, before recognizing his nervous stance. JJ's bouncing on the heel of his feet, avoiding your gaze, and when you repeat your question, more firmly this time, he reluctantly holds the note out.

"Someone left this at your bar," JJ explains as you take it. Your eyes quickly scan the message, your heart sinking with every word you read. "It's a warning. If you don't... If you don't pay him back in full tomorrow, he'll do something to your bar."

Rafe's watching your reaction with a hardened look. His eyes keep sliding over to JJ, the Pogue being the messenger of the news—the one you sought help from before—and the blond feels the heat of his stare on him. Consequently, it forces JJ to grab your elbow and pull you off to the side, away from Rafe.

JJ begins. "Look, I know you don't wanna do it, but my dad knows a guy—"

"No."

"He's been through with Aaron before," he whispers back sharply, "It might be the only option you have."

"And get stuck in the same shit I had with Aaron? No," you declare firmly, reading the note again. It does nothing to soothe the heightened nerves in your body. The way panic is ricocheting inside your stomach like a ping-pong ball.

JJ says nothing, the absolute behind your tone quiets him. While you're preoccupied with another read-through, JJ glances back to where Rafe stands.

"I gotta ask," JJ starts again, lowering his voice so only you can hear. You lift your head from the note, meeting his curious gaze, with a raise of your brow. "Rafe? Seriously?"

While you're trying to figure out how to maintain your livelihood, JJ is concerned about your love life.

"Is this really the time and place?"

"I'm serious, what do you see in him?"

"Drop it, JJ."

"I just don't understand," he continues in a whisper, but his volume raises slightly, "I swear, you're a pretty girl. You can do 10x better than him—"

"JJ," you command sternly, all amusement vanishes. "Drop it."

"Fine," he stays, stepping back with both hands partially raised to his collar. He doesn't turn to catch another glimpse at Rafe, but instead, offers the same advice as he did before. "If you need my help, you know where to find me."

Rafe watches as the Pogue leaves, stepping out to your porch and closing the door behind him. But his breath remains ragged. He caught the last bit of JJ's hushed words, and as much as he wanted to be sensible, he didn't like it.

You're different than Rafe, he understands that. You have a support system, a list of other people, and sometimes—as much as he hates to admit—they are better than him. Less volatile. Less emotional.

But it feels like you're pushing him away. Placing him as a last line of defense for all your troubles. The insecure parts of him are roaring—louder than his rational thoughts can ever be—telling him that he's the last choice. The last option.

He can't help but wonder. If Leilani hadn't called him, would you have? Or would it be JJ or Pope?

Rafe rounds the couch to approach you, his hand circles your wrist holding the note. Your head lifts to meet his harsh gaze.

"You don't need his help," he declares gruffly, "I could've done it."

You blink. "What?"

"The note at the bar," he gestures to the crumpled paper in your hands, before dropping his to his side, clenching down to a fist. "I could've taken care of it."

"I... I didn't ask him. He did it himself."

Rafe isn't convinced. "And last night with Maybank and Heyward, that was all them too?"

His tone is sharp and accusatory, leaving you lightheaded as you stare at him. You're still wrapped up around the threatening note, but Rafe is somewhere else. A different topic. Another issue. You can't seem to gauge what type of response you need to have. And in turn, you give him silence.

His anger rises. "Am I just your second choice? Your fucking backup plan because those Pogues don't cut it?"

Your head is spinning, and you attempt to pull away from his grip but he tightens it. "Rafe," you start slowly, your breathing quickens, "What are you talking about?"

Are you being ignorant on purpose? Are you trying to drive him mad? His fury erupts, flooding all his senses.

"Them!" Rafe points to the door, where JJ left moments ago. "Last night. Everything. Did you ask them before you asked me?"

It's starting to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"I told you that we'll figure it out together."

"I—" Your throat burns. You can't believe he's letting his jealousy about your friends come at a perilous stage in your life. Exhaling a sharp breath, you meet his stare head-on. "They appointed themselves to that role. I never asked that of them."

After Pope discovered the break-in, JJ and him formed a pact to take it upon themselves to watch over you while you're home. They traded off shifts, entertaining themselves on the porch where they set up a makeshift couch and hammock to crash. You had tried to convince them you were fine, but they were stubborn. They wouldn't listen. And at the time, you appreciated the extra protection.

But it didn't work. You couldn't sleep. You still needed him.

Does he not get that?

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with contempt, "You never ask for anything."

"Are you really trying to start a fight right now?"

"Are you making it a fight?"

"They're my friends, Rafe," you emphasize, "I told you that."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Then what is it?"

His jaw is set, resistance churning through his system to shut the fuck up, but he can't hold it in. He finds himself asking, half in plead, half in confession, "What am I?"

You weren't expecting that. Your lips part, but no words follow through. His hard gaze is on you, waiting for an explanation, but you don't answer fast enough. It's killing him. His next words are a shimmering calm, in a deadly whisper, "Do you think I only want you for sex?"

Your heart squeezes in your chest, taking all your air alongside it. You think you lost your ability to speak, but when you do, it comes out small. "Don't you?"

You're turning the question back onto him, and he hates it. He's trying to get the words out of you, to see where he stands, but neither of you is willing to take that step. It reduces him to silence.

You can't believe it. He can ask, but he can't answer. Frustration fills you, searing hot and explosive. You don't stop yourself from saying, "Because last I remember, whenever you had a problem, you came over to fuck." You snap, your emotions rising to a crescendo, "And when I asked you what we are..." You trail off, losing your voice. The sting of his label still hasn't passed.

But he knows what you're referring to.

"That's different."

"How?"

Rafe doesn't speak. All he knows is it's different. He has feelings for you. Before he refused to acknowledge it, now, it's bleeding into everything he touches. Everything he does. He just can't seem to say it.

"That was before."

Your brows pull together, your anger pulsating through your veins. "Before what? Before Aaron broke into my house?"

"No," he declares, his response is a knee-jerk reaction, but it wasn't the right one. Attempting to rectify, Rafe stammers, "Well, yes, but it's just... It's..."

Why can't he fucking tell you?

He's afraid of being first.

"It's pity?" You supply, not bothering to conceal the hurt in your tone. "Everything is just pity?"

"No!" He exclaims, but it isn't right. It still isn't good enough.

"Then what is it?" You demand, trying to get a hold of your emotions. But you're seconds away from screaming, or crying, or both. You rip your hand from Rafe's grip, taking a step back to conserve yourself.

His gaze falls to his empty hands, his emotions choking him. Every attempt at saying the right words causes him to shrink, feeling small, feeling like a child reaching for their parent's love, only to be pushed aside and dismissed. His walls are for protection, but it destroys as much as it save him.

Rafe decides to settle on something easy. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Fake," you correct.

"Does this feel fucking fake to you?"

You reel back. All your anger dissipates. All your resentment, hurt, and frustration disappear once those words leave his lips. And you're left with a burning clarity. Your chest constricts, your heart hammering. But you can't seem to answer him. You want him to say it first. "You tell me."

Rafe can't. It took all of him to admit such a thing.

You watch him with bated breath, but only to be disappointed again. His dark blue eyes are piercing, rich with emotions, but none of them are vocalized. None are honest. You can’t do this. You can’t go through another second of this uncertainty. You’re tunneling towards heartbreaking misery. So, you turn to leave.

But Rafe catches your wrist and pulls you back. His lips slam into yours, knocking the wind from your lungs.

He pours everything into this kiss; all his desperation, vulnerability, and truth. His action demonstrates everything his words can’t. And while you reciprocate with the same passion, reality grounds you, and you draw back, shaking your head. “Rafe—“

He kisses you again. Hoping it’s enough. Begging it to be. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know why he can’t fucking say it. He wants this to be enough.

You push back again, and this time, his arm wraps around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You’re breathing hard as Rafe stares down at you while you’re looking at his chest.

He says your name. You refuse to look up.

He says it again. More firmly. You don’t acknowledge.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, softening his words, and you find yourself crying. Tears crowd your waterline as you shake your head, refusing to be persuaded by the sweet sound of your endearment.

“No,” you choke out, slamming a weak fist against his chest. “Let me go. I can’t—I don’t—I’m not doing this.”

You finally tilt your head up to look at him. The way he stares at you with such tenderness. You can’t seem to discern it from pity. “I can’t.” You sob, “If this is how you’re playing me, I can’t keep doing this anymore. You’re breaking my heart.“

Then it finally hits him.

All your resistance. It was never rejection. It was the complete opposite. Coupled with the same fears he had; the same emotions he didn’t know how to express. He’s been so blind to it.

He should’ve known. He should’ve read it the same way he’s been reading everything else.

It finally gave him the confidence nothing else has.

“I fucking love you.”

You are completely still. You think you're hearing him wrong, that this is just a way of your brain deluding you and calming your irrational state of mind, but it's real. Your lips part, breathing shallow, all while you're staring back into Rafe's eyes.

He's afraid. Rafe doesn't trust his own instincts. Everything about you makes him question himself. And while he gained a fleeting moment of courage, he doesn't know if it will follow through. On the off-chance that, despite all this, all the signs he read, he was wrong and it will be rejection.

"Say it back," Rafe whispers in a plea. It's pathetic, but he no longer cares. "Say it back or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

"You love me?" You breathe in a whisper, unable to move on from this moment. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly, before nodding once.

“I think I loved you since I first met you,” he confesses. “I just didn’t know it yet.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rafe bristles, “You think I go around telling people I love them?” He declares, studying your expression, trying to gauge your reaction, but it’s hard when he’s blinded by the crippling fear that you don’t feel the same. “You think I do this for anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I just don’t want you to say something you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he declares, his voice suddenly dry, as he finds your gaze. “I… I’m sorry for before when I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want you just for sex, I don’t see you as just a fuck buddy. I’m… I’m in love with you, and it’s fucking difficult to tell you that.”

Your lips purse together, but you still don’t answer him. Don’t confess your own side. Instead, you ask in a meek voice, “Since the beginning?”

He huffs. He can’t believe he’s admitting so much today. Revealing things he swore he’d keep hidden behind a locked box. But when he finds the light returning in your eyes, trying to gauge more of his reaction, read his true meaning, finding comfort in his words, he’ll rip out his own soul to keep it there. “Since the beginning. When you called me out, when you patched me up, when you slapped me—“ That bit makes you let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I was going to meet anyone who challenges and accepts me the way you do.”

You don’t say anything for the next few moments. And they were the longest seconds of his life. Rafe had to speak, “And if it’s just me, if I’m the only person who feels this way, I’ll find a way to be okay with that—“

You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you,” you breathe into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,” you jump, curving your legs around his hips as Rafe catches you, steadying you with two hands tantalizing skimming the curve of your ass. “Fuck, Rafe, I love you so much.”

His heart fills with your words. Your desperation clinging to each puncture. He grins into the kiss, before he deepens it, tasting you, stealing your air. Everything feels right. Feels good. When Rafe separates to break the kiss, he catches the residue smile on your face and the little daze behind your eyes. He snaps a memory of it and saves it forever.

But, just as it came, it slowly faded away. Reality quickly dawns on you, and your arms tightens around Rafe’s neck, reminders and deadlines creeping up your skin. Your confession comes out small. “I… I’m scared. With Aaron and everything.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t have the money, Rafe,” your eyes connect with his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Rafe pulls you in, flushed against his chest as your head lays on his shoulders and his hand strokes your hair. It takes a moment for him to process, to remember the world outside of you. But, when he does, he whispers, “I’m going to take care of it,” his voice so low, it almost comes out as a threat. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he will.

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Navigation — Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

[littlxpxtal]

Midnight Rain

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence WORD COUNT: 3.9K

I broke his heart because he was nice

He was sunshine I was midnight rain

May

The sunlight flashing through the blinds wakes me from my sleep, a headache immediately pounding through my temples. 

I reach for my water bottle which is usually full, in preparation for mornings like these, and realize the nightstand I touch isn’t mine. I jump and realize I’m not in my own bed. I’m in JJ Maybank's bed. A few more seconds pass before I realize I’m not wearing any clothes.

“Fuck” I whisper, glancing over to see JJ laying on his stomach, face squished into his pillows. 

I slide out of bed and gather all of my belongings, slipping on my shorts and top from the night before, scrambling around the bed looking for my phone. 

“Where ya goin” he asks me, still half asleep.

“I-I gotta go to work,” I whisper back before rushing out of his bedroom door, flying out of his house before realizing I didn't have any underwear on. Well, that’s fucking embarrassing. 

I check my phone, realizing it's on 4%, and decide to make a desperate call to my cousin Kiara. The phone rings twice before she picks it up.

“Kie, you’re never going to believe where I woke up this morning.” I say exasperated. 

“Y/N, you’re never going to believe where I woke up this morning,” she whispers into the phone.

I stop in my tracks. Before I can form a response a flash of last night's events starts coming to light.

“Easssssssssssy on the liquor there doll, gon get too fucked before the sun even goes down” JJ shouts at me from behind the bar set up on the Pogue’s side of the beach.  “Shut up Jay” I respond before finishing the clear liquor from my cup and placing it on the bar. “Refill please” I say, batting my eyelashes at him. “Why don’t you go to the Kook side and get them to refill your cup, ‘ve already filled it up enough tonight.” he scolded, pouring himself a cup of dark liquor with a splash of coke.  “Whatever” I retort before spinning on my heels to join our friends by the water. 

“Okay but why does JJ look kinda hot as a bartender” Kiara jokes with me and Sarah.  “In his dreams” I chuckle and step into the water.  “Thank god school is over” Sarah sighs and wraps her arm around my shoulders. I grab her wrist with my hand and look out at the sunset. “God I know, I barely made it through exams.” The sweet moment was interrupted by a splash of water hitting the sides of my legs, John B being the culprit. “Damn, stealing my girl already, Y/N?” he mused. “She was mine first.” I declare before splashing water back at him with my foot.  Pope rushes behind the four of us, two beers in hand, his shirt already off.  “Kooks have landed” I turn my head towards the other side of the beach to see them setting up a large DJ booth, pong tables, and 10 kegs.  “They went all out again this year” I joke. “Don’t act like you dont wanna join em” JJ teases, finally joining the group by the water.  I splash water at him this time, wobbling a little, feeling a bit tipsy from the 3 drinks I’ve already had.  “Shouldn’t you be handling the bar Maybank?” I remark at him, quirking an eyebrow up at the messy blonde. “Pogue’s can handle themselves. Its them kooks ‘m worried about. Plus I missed you guys. Over here having tons of fun and shit without me” He playfully pushes Sarah’s arms off of my shoulders and replaces it with his.  “C’mon let's go get you that refill.”

“Recap at Luna Cafe. Meet me in 10. And bring a phone charger.” I respond, ending the call and starting heading into town. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I arrive at the Cafe to see Kiara already there. 

“Hey Kie,” she leans in to hug me and I sit down, both of us silent for a moment, waiting for the first one to spill. 

“I slept with JJ” I say, finally breaking the ice. 

She chokes on the ice water she ordered and stares at me, bewildered. 

“You did what?” she whispers, her voice hoarse from the party.

“I-I dunno how it happened I just woke up in his fucking bed, no clothes on or anything! Trust me I’m just as shocked as you are.”

“Well you guys were flirting pretty hardcore last night…” she trails off, avoiding eye contact.

“No we weren’t! We were talking to each other the same way we always have.” I respond defensively. 

“Ya, and it reeks of sexual tension.”

My jaw drops in response. 

“Did you bring a charger?” I ask, not wanting to continue the conversation without grounding myself with reality. She reaches down into her bag and pulls it out.

“‘M gonna call Sarah” she says.

“Great, I’m getting us drinks, want your regular?”

“Yes please” she says before putting the phone to her ear. 

I walk up to the counter, ordering 3 iced lattes with Oat Milk and vanilla syrup and two ice waters.

While waiting for the drinks, another flash back forms.

The bass pounds from the other side of the beach while the group sit on logs surrounding the bonfire Pope had put together.  “Kinda sounds like fun…” Pope sighs, looking longingly at the Kooks side of the summer break bash.  “Lets go, just for a few songs, then we can come back and sulk” I say, standing up and brushing the sand off the back of my legs.  “‘’fcourse you wanna go, those are your people” JJ snorts, taking a sip from his red cup.  “And ‘m slummin it over here with you Maybank,” I slur back, making my way around the bonfire trying to gather the rest of the group.  “C’mon it’ll be fun guys please. OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SONGGGGGGGGGGG” I cheer, hearing Doses & Mimosas in the background. Sarah and Kiara stand, with John B and Pope following suit.  I grab the girls hands and skip along to the Kook side, singing along “MAKES TIME GO SLOW SLOW SLOWWWWW”  The boys trail behind us, JJ begrudgingly joining after filling his cup up again.  I lead the group through the crowd of people, entering the center of the circle, forming a small circle with our friends. An unopened beer is passed to me by a cute Kook and I smile back at him before cracking it open.  “DOSES AND MIMOSAS. CHAMPAGE AND COCAINE HELP TO GET ME THROUGH” the crowd cheers. “I know youre having fun Jay” I whisper in his ear after seeing him bop his head to the beat. “Yea yea, only cus you’re here” he slurs back wrapping his arms around me, finding my back now against his chest, moving our bodies along to the song playing on the speaker. 

“Three lattes and two waters” the barista calls out, interrupting my thoughts. 

Kiara stands to help me bring the drinks back to the table.

“Okay, so where did you wake up this morning.” I inquire, taking a large gulp from the ice water. 

“Pope’s bed.” 

It was now my turn to choke on water. 

“No fucking way Kie.” I respond, reaching out to grab her hand. “Be so fucking for real with me right now tell me you didn’t fuck him.”

She looks down with a grimace on her face. 

“I wish I was lying”

“Lying about what?” a soft voice comes from behind us. I turn around to see Sarah, who is also still in her clothes from the night before, with large sunglasses and one of John B’s caps on her head. 

“Sarah. What do you remember about last night?” she laughs and lowers her sunglasses down, eyeing the both of us before sitting down. 

“What do you want to remember.” she smirks. “Is one of these for me? It better be if you two drug me out of bed to meet this early.”

“Yea this one.” I push the latte and water to her. “Tell us everything.” she takes a sip of the latte and pushes her sunglasses back up. 

“Well you have to tell me what you could be lying about.”

“I slept with Pope.” Kiara whispers. Sarah, questionably has no reaction. She turns to look at me, and I freeze. “I….. I slept with JJ”

She lets out a loud laugh, which makes Kiara and I look at each other, puzzled looks spread across our faces.

“What’s so fucking funny Sarah” Kiara asks, crossing her arms. 

“Cus I already knew.” she states before taking another sip.

I stare, jaw open again, adjusting my chair to face hers. 

“Okay tell us everything right now.” I demand.

“Chill, Y/N. If I tell you guys, you have to give me the detailsssss” she jokes.

“I don’t even remember going home with him there’s no details!” I shout, realizing my voice was too loud for the little cafe, I lower it back down. “Just tell us” I hiss back at her.

“Okay, okay. After we finally made it to the Kooks side of the bash, we mainly stayed in our circle. I don’t know if you guys noticed but guys were passing us drinks like crazy, it was like they wanted us to get wasted. Scummy if you ask me.” 

Kiara scoffs and puts her head into her hands.

“I don’t remember how many of those shitty beers I had.” she sighs.

“John B cut me off when he noticed I couldn’t stand up straight” Sarah responds softly before continuing her recap. 

“So we’re pretty wasted or whatever and the DJ was playing bangers, had the crowd really going. And Y/N, not sure if you remember, but you and JJ were dancing the whole night away. You were grinding on that boy so hard” Kiara lets out a laugh 

“Okay wait I remember that and he was so into it he was like” Kiara recounts, making a face with an O shape, leaning her head back doing her best JJ impression. 

“Okay yea yea I remember dancing on him.” you brush off. “What about Kie and Pope how did that happen.”

“Well you and Pope weren’t grinding as hard as Y/N and JJ but he was definitely sweeping you off your feet with his dance moves. We all also did a few kegs stands, played a few rounds of pong.” she trails off and I stare at her.

“I don’t remember doing a fucking keg stand who let me DO THAT” you exclaim before face palming. 

“You were honestly one of the best of us I have to say, you were up there for 10 whole seconds. I couldn’t even get off my feet.” Sarah snorts. 

“Oh my god.” I sigh, drinking more water, feeling my headache worsening. 

“And then Kie and Pope disappeared out of the party, claiming you left your purse at the bonfire or whatever and we didn’t see you two for the rest of the night.” Sarah states. 

Kiara looks up at the two of us and starts laughing. “Okay I kinda remember that but I don’t know how he convinced me to go back to his place.”

“He was shirtless and showing off his moves!” Sarah replies. Kie shakes her head and places it back down into her hands.

“As for you and JJ, we watched you two go back to the dance floor, dancing and making out disgustingly, so bad Rafe even had to say something.”

My jaw drops for the third time. A flashback of this happening slams into my head.

JJ’s tongue is down my throat, his hands feverishly moving up and down my torso as I dance my body against his, feeling the liquor and heat vibrating off of our bodies.  As I move my hands up through his hair, I feel a rough arm grab mine and pull him away from him. I look up to see Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s big brother darting his blown pupils down at me. “No Pogue on Pogue mackin on my side of the fucking island” he snarls, his arm still tightly gripping mine. I snatch my arm away from him and push my body up against his, tilting my head all the way back to reach eye contact.  “Don’t fucking touch me Cameron.” I spit back out back at him. I realized without him or JJs arms around me, I could barely stand. I start to wobble a bit and JJ catches me.  “Get her out of here Pogue. Make sure if she yaks it’s on your side.” he shouts in JJs face before disappearing back into the crowd.  JJ brings me up to the bar, requesting a cup of water. He places it in my hand, holding me up while giggling.  “Love pissin that guy off” he chuckles. I laugh back. “He gets worse every year.” I joke. The cold water making my brian feel less fuzzy.  “Wanna get out of here?” he asks me. I shrug and look out to the crowd, realizing I don’t recoginize anyone.  “Sure, where d’ya wanna go?” I ask.  “My place?” he asks with a smirk on his face. 

“Fuck” I let out, realizing I had been holding my breath while recounting the scene from the night before. 

“Well… how was the sex?” Sarah asks with a grin smeared across her face.

“It was actually pretty good.” Kiara finally speaks.

“Wait you remember?” 

“Yea.” she stiffles out a laugh. “And it was actually pretty fucking great.”

“Thats my girl!” Sarah lets out a cheer and slaps her hand on Kie’s shoulder. 

“I’m trying to remember what happened, but all I can remember was making out on his bed then poof. Black.” I tell the girls. I try my hardest to remember any details, especially if we used protection. This wasn’t my first drunk hook up, but with JJ it was new territory. This could ruin our friendship. Would he be hurt if I can’t remember the night we spent together? 

“Maybe you should talk to him about it. I was thinking of having a chill night tonight at my place,”

“Yea, yea I’ll just talk to him then. For now I just need to rot in bed.” I sigh, grabbing my purse and standing up. “Thanks ladies. I’ll see y’all later?” 

“My place at 6!” Sarah shouts at me as I leave the cafe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I kick my bikestand down and grab my tote bag off of the handle, walking up the driveway to Tanneyhill. I hear voices in the backyard and circle around the house. Everyone has already arrived and is sitting on the patio around the fire pit. 

“Hey” I finally speak.

“Heyyyyyy Y/N!” Pope cheers, standing up to greet me with a hug. “How ya feelin?” 

I smile sheepishly in return and shake my head. 

“Well my handover is finally gone but the hangxiety still lingers.”

A chuckle from JJ emerges and he smirks at John B who winks at him. I feel a pit in my stomach knowing that last nights events were more than likely discussed before I arrived. 

I sit down next inbetween Kiara and Pope and sling off my jacket, scooting closer to the fire. 

A few moments of awkward silence passes before the boys start cracking jokes about some guys who were obnoxiously drunk at the party, and how John B had to pull Sarah away from one who almost yakked on her. I fumble around with my water bottle, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Feeling embarrassed and frazzled, I ask Sarah if I can use her bathroom.

“Yea, back doors unlocked! Feel free to use mine upstairs.”

I walk up the patio steps to the door and bask in the silence of the house. Letting a deep breath out, I start for the stairs, before I see a figure walk by the banister. 

“What’re you doin comin up here?” They ask from the darkness. 

“Just usin Sarah’s bathroom” I respond, immediately recognizing the voice as Rafe Cameron. 

“There’s a guest bath unoccupied downstairs.�� he grunts before moving forward to the light at the top of the stairs. I reach the last step, craning my neck up to make eye contact with him. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair a mess and he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and white t-shirt. I had never seen him in casual clothing before, it was slightly shocking. 

“She told me to use hers so I’m using hers.” I stated simply, pushing past him. 

Before I could fully slide past him, his hand grips my arm. 

“The fuck are you doin messin round with that pouge? Hm?” he questions. I rip my arm from his grip and turn to face him again. 

“I’m not, not that it’s any of your business. He’s just a friend.” I shrug and stare at him hardly.

“Didn’t look like just friends to me. Y’all were practically fucking on the dancefloor. ‘N I saw you leave with him.” He stepped closer, making me have to crane my neck even farther to keep eye contact. I felt myself tremble at our proximity. 

“We were drunk it was nothing.” I mumble. 

“Didn’t look like nothin” he respond, keeping eye contact. 

“Like I said, not any of your business. What’re you, keeping tabs on me?” I retorted, turning my body to go to Sarah’s room. 

“You need to stop messin around with them, you’re not one of them.” he shouts down the hall at me. I flick my middle finger back at him before entering Sarah’s room. I sit down on her bed, my brain fuzzy from the interaction I just had, and the dehydration from the night before. I check my phone to see a text from Pope.

You should talk to JJ about last night …..

“Jesus Christ” I whisper. I click my phone off and go to her bathroom.

When I exit her room, Rafe is nowhere to be seen. I tip toe down the stairs and see JJ sitting on their living room couch, waiting for me. 

“Hey Jay” I say, feeling my tremble return. Fuck I really didn’t wanna have this conversation right now. 

“Hey. Can we talk about last night… and this morning?”

I purse my lips together and nod my head before sitting on the couch across from him. 

“Look, last night was amazing, and I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. I’m sorry it had to happen while we were drunk, I wanted it to happen under different circumstances but -”

I interrupt him before her can say anything further. “JJ, last night was all a blur and I-”

He stands up and moves over to my couch, sitting right next to me, grabbing my hands in his.

“I like you, Y/N. And last night was probably one of the best nights of my entire stupid life.”

I sigh, releasing my hands from his grip and cup his face. “Jay, I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way. I really enjoy you as a friend and I don’t want that to change. I really don’t want a relationship or anything and I’m sorry I played into that.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked down.

“You don’t like me?” he whispers.

“JJ, I like you as a friend, but no not romantically. I’m sorry that I led you on.”

He stood up and started to pace around the room, taking his hat off to run his fingers through his hair. “I feel like a fuckin idiot dude what.” he says exasperated. I stand up and place my hands on his arm to try and get him to stop. 

“Dont-dont touch me.” he growls. Turning his back and placing his cap back on his head. 

“JJ I’m sorry.” I sigh, sitting back down on the couch.

“Yea, Yea I get it. ‘M not mad at you, I’m mad at myself for thinking you would wanna get with a pogue like me.” he grunts. Sitting back on the couch, farther from me this time. 

“Jay …. Don’t say that. It’s not because of where you’re from. I just don’t feel the same way. ‘Nd ‘m sorry I had sex with you, I wouldn’t have if I knew you wanted something more romantic.”

He lets out a stiff laugh.

“We didn’t fuck.”

“Wha- what?” I ask, turning my body towards him, raising my eyebrows.

“Yea, we were both way too drunk so we just went to sleep.” he says, finally making eye contact. 

“Well then why was I naked?” I quiz, not fully believing him. 

“Well I didn’t say we didn’ try.” he chuckles, looking out across the room, probably remembering the sight of me naked in his bed. My body cringes at the thought. 

“It just wasn’t working so we gave up and you passed out before putting your clothes back on.”

I stare at the floor, I could feel my face turning red. “Well why didn’t you put my clothes back on?” I ask. 

“Cus I wasnt gonna try and clothe your limp body, kinda weird. So I just laid my blanket over you and slept on top of it.” he responds before standing. I look up at him, wide eyed, trying to pull that memory from my brain, but nothing is surfacing. 

“Look it won’t happen again. Sorry I assumed.” he says flatly.

I stand to meet him, guilt rising in my body for leading him on all night. “Jay, I don’t want this to ruin our friendship. I still want you in my life and I don’t want this to tarnish it.” I whisper, fumbling with my fingers and staring at the ground. 

“It won’t. We can forget it happened. and … here’s your underwear” he pulls them out of his pockets sheepishly, handing them to me and pushes his fist playfully into my shoulder. “‘M gonna go back out. You comin?” he asks, walking towards the backdoor. 

“In a sec, I think I left my phone in the bathroom.” I respond, before heading towards the staircase. I wanted to escape to Sarah’s bedroom and hide until this sick feeling left my body. 

I made it about 3 steps up before Rafe appeared on the top step yet again.

He’s changed into a regular outfit, clearly going out. 

“Well that was pathetic.” he chuckles before stepping a few steps down.

“Fuck off” I mumble. Squeezing my underwear in my hand trying to hide it from his eyesight.

“Glad to hear he couldn’t even pull through. What a poser” he says slyly before reaching the same step as mine.

I stiff out a laugh, looking up in to his eyes. 

“You’re such a dick”

He leans down to my ear, brushing his hand against my arm, the same one he grabbed me with earlier. I feel goosebumps raise across my body, his breathe against my ear is warm and smells of hard liquor. 

“You’re too sweet to let a pogue like that ruin you” I gulp and stand still, He lingers there for a few more seconds before moving his face to meet mine. 

“Like you would be any better.” I respond, not thinking of the consequences that comment would create. 

“Wouldn’t you like to find out.” he smirks. His eyes flicker down to eye the fistfull of underwear I’m holding, before standing up straight and walking to the front door.

“See ya later Y/N” He calls out, before exiting. I stand there, shellshocked at his words, the knot in my stomach twisting, leaving a foul taste in my mouth. 

“Y/N you alright in there?” I hear Sarah call out form the backdoor.

“‘M coming.” I respond, shoving my underwear into my pockets before heading down the stairs and meeting her at the door.

Instagram AU | Next Chapter

[sunnybunnyy2]

OUTER BANKS MASTERLIST

💋- Smut 💖-Fluff 👀- Angst

Sarah Cameron <3

Nothing as of yet :( but send a request!!

One shots:

Series:

Kiara Carrera <3

One shots:

She Looks Just Like A Dream 💖👀

Series: ?

Others

ONESHOTS: : 1+1 =? -Rafe Cameron x fem!pogue!reader 👀(not really)

SERIES:

My Ex-Boyfriends New Girl - Sofia x fem!kook! reader 💋👀💖

summary/description: After you break up with your long-term boyfriend, he decides to not just destroy your life- but your reputation on the OBX along with it. Eight months after you were forced off the island, you resurface with a vengeance and plan to take down your ex-boyfriend no matter the cost- and it definitely makes it easier that the muse of your plan is a beautiful bartender who also happens to be your ex's new girl. 

warnings: cheating, smut, kind of bitchy reader, manipulation, reader is Rafe’s ex, swearing and bad writing!!

on-going!

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

You Don’t Go To Parties | R.C.

Read part 2 here

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe flashes back on moments in your relationship as he looks for you at his party, even though he knows that he won’t find you.

Based on the song:

A/N: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written and I think the one I’ve enjoyed the most. This definitely isn’t canon Rafe but it is the Rafe I dream of. Rafe and Sarah are actually close in this because they deserve that and Sarah and Topper aren’t dating cuz I just don’t like them together. Also it is very very very much not proofread like at all

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: drug and alcohol use, addiction, arguing, harassment, talk of ward being a shitty dad

Word Count: 6.5k

-

25 minutes. That’s how long the party had been going on at the Cameron house. 25 minutes. That was how long Rafe had been looking for you at said party.

He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. Scanning the party every few minutes, his conscious mind chalked it up to wanting to know who was at his house and he left it at that. He didn’t want to think about it any deeper.

Take a shot. Scan the kitchen.

Do a line. Scan the basement.

Play a round of beer pong. Scan the backyard.

“Right, bro? Rafe, have you even heard a word I said?” A shove from Topper brings Rafe back to reality.

“Huh, what? Is it my turn?” Rafe turns back to the card table covered with red solo cups.

“We lost like five minutes ago,” Topper deadpans, “which you would know if you had been paying attention.

Where is your head, bro? It’s like you’re not even here. This is your party.”

Rafe just shrugs in response, scanning the backyard again.

“Who are you looking for?”

Rafe turns back to his friend. “I’m not looking for anyone.”

“Yeah, sure,” Topper says skeptically, “You’re just searching the crowd every few minutes for no reason.” He claps him on the back. “Real convincing.”

Rafe starts to make a noise of indignation, but Topper is already walking away, leaving him to his thoughts.

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it to himself, Rafe knows exactly who he’s looking for, and he also knows he’ll never find you in the crowd. You don’t go to parties anymore, and he only has himself to blame.

-

(10 months earlier)

Growing up middle class in the Outer Banks was a weird experience. You weren’t a pogue and you weren’t a kook, and neither group made any attempt to claim you. You were just you.

You hadn’t wanted for much during your childhood, but you learned not to spend on needless expenses. Your parents taught you the necessity of hard work and they taught you how to budget. You didn’t go to lavish parties, but you weren’t going to bed hungry. As an adult, you worked two jobs, waitressing during the week and bartending on weekends, and your parents pitched in every once and a while to help you pay your rent. You weren’t rich by any means, but thanks to your work ethic and the kindness of your parents, you made it work.

Rafe Cameron grew up in a different world. He splurged endlessly, using up the massive allowance that his dad gave him. He didn’t care about price and he didn’t care about budgeting. Most of all, he had never worked hard a day in his life.

When he comes up to the bar one night while you’re pouring drinks, you don't spare him a second glance. He flashes you that crooked grin and calls you ‘darlin’’, but it doesn't matter. You know Rafe Cameron’s reputation and you don’t get tied up in the games of rich boys. You simply make him his drink and go on with your night.

Rafe on the other hand, is smitten from the moment he lays eyes on you. When the typical smile and sweet talk doesn’t have you falling at his feet like every other girl, he knows he’s a goner. He would make it his mission to catch your eye no matter what it took.

So he puts in the work, weekend after weekend he comes to the bar, day after day he comes to the restaurant. Each meeting is filled with flirty conversations and teasing looks, and despite your better judgment, you can feel him wearing you down.

-

(8 months earlier)

Two months after your first meeting, Rafe saunters into the bar, just like he did every Friday night, and heads straight for you.

“Y/N.” He greets you, the same crooked grin on his face.

“Rafe,” you reply, the same even tone you always use, “The usual?”

“You know it, darlin’.”

“You’re later than usual.” You note.

He smirks at that. “Worried I wasn’t coming?”

You give him a look. “Not a chance,” you retort, “just thought maybe I had finally scared you off.”

“Impossible.”

You can’t help the small smile that crosses your face at his reply, and you turn quickly so he doesn’t see, playing it off as helping another customer. When you refocus your attention back on him, you realize he hadn’t taken his eyes off you. He scans your face, the look on his face more serious than usual and one you can’t quite read.

He leans in, eyes locked on your face and murmurs under his breath, “Go on a date with me, please.”

Rafe has never blatantly asked you out before. You know that it’s been his intention all along, all his flirting building up to this moment, but you didn’t expect such sincerity behind his words. And you certainly didn’t expect him to say please.

You want to say no. You know better than to get involved with someone like him, but Rafe has a gravitational force that pulls you, and everyone around him, in. So when he gives you a small, hopeful smile, you can’t help that your body leans closer to him. And you can’t help but say yes.

-

He picks you up at 6:00 on the dot Monday night, looking about as handsome as you had ever seen him in dark jeans and a light blue pullover. He hadn’t told you much about what he had planned for the night, just to wear something comfortable and he would take care of everything else.

You aren’t quite sure what to expect from Rafe Cameron on a date, but as he opens the door of his truck for you, looking down at you with a smile and a soft look in his eyes, you realize you aren’t worried.

Rafe drives you to a small clearing that you had never seen. It’s a grassy spot that overlooks a quiet area of the beach, and is just secluded enough to give the two of you privacy. He pulls in carefully, angling the bed of the truck toward the beach.

Once he parks, you reach for the door handle, but Rafe puts up a hand to stop you.

“Wait right here for a second, okay?”

He grabs a bag from the backseat and hops out of the truck, setting up the truck bed to his liking. When he finishes, he jogs over to your side of the truck where he opens your door and helps you out.

You raise an eyebrow at the gesture, a small smile gracing your face. “Quite the gentleman, Rafe Cameron.”

“I was trained well,” he jokes back at you.

As you round the back of the truck, Rafe jumps up onto the tailgate, reaching down a hand to help you up the big step. You’re thankful for the help as you almost fall, not once, but twice in the process.

“Well, that was graceful,” you giggle and Rafe laughs along with you.

When he’s confident you're steady on your own two feet, Rafe takes a seat on one side of the truck bed, motioning you to do the same across from him. Between you, he’s set up a small picnic with a few of your favorite foods and a variety of drinks, alcoholic and non-alcoholic alike.

“I wasn’t sure which you would want,” Rafe offers at your questioning glance, “I wasn’t sure how much you drink.”

Your heart flutters a little with the thoughtfulness of his words. It’s not what you would’ve expected from Rafe. You’ve heard the stories, and know his reputation. Rafe drank a high volume and often. You’d expected him to want you to do the same. Then again, nothing about your experience with Rafe has been what you expected.

The night was everything you could’ve hoped for. You and Rafe spend hours talking and laughing while feasting on the picnic he had brought. The conversation never seemed to lull, and even the quiet moments between the two of you felt comfortable.

As the sun went down over the water, you let out a content sigh. “It really is beautiful.”

Rafe hums in agreement, leaning back against his hands as he looks between you and the sunset. He can’t believe how lucky he is to be here with you. How he convinced you to go out with him is beyond his comprehension, but he’s going to enjoy it while it lasts.

A light breeze blows across the clearing, and you can’t help but shiver slightly. It was usually pretty warm in the Outer Banks, but considering it was nearing November, sometimes the nights get a bit chilly.

Noticing your discomfort, Rafe reaches through the open truck window and pulls out a jacket. He drapes it over your shoulders gently, and you feel yourself leaning into his touch. You look up at him, the ‘thank you’ getting caught into your throat when you realize just how close he is.

You can feel his warm breath fan across your face, his eyes flickering to your eyes and your lips, gaze intense. He’s waiting for your permission to make a move, so you tilt your head up ever so slightly. Moving so your lips are almost brushing against his.

He takes this as his cue, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss is strong, but gentle, Rafe’s mouth moving in time with yours as if you were made for each other. You feel like you’re floating, and you don’t ever want to come down.

-

(7 months earlier)

A month into your relationship, Rafe takes you to a party at his buddy Dylan’s house. It’s your first real kook party. Sure, you’ve been to your fair share of parties while living on the island, but none of them have been in mansions owned by rich parents who just let their kids have free reign.

You can tell Rafe feels comfortable like this, surrounded by rich kids in a big house with loud music and expensive booze. You know he’s been to plenty of parties just like this one, but you can’t help but feel out of place, even by the kook king’s side.

Luckily for you, Rafe steers you towards the kitchen pretty quickly, not wanting to share you with everyone the whole night.

“Wow, this is quite the party,” you state, gesturing around the room.

Rafe pours you a cup of beer and then grabs one for himself, tucking an arm around your waist to pull you into his body.

“What do you mean? You’ve been to lots of parties,” he comments.

“Not in houses like this, Rafe,” you laugh, “they have two ovens, and a fridge that looks like a cabinet.”

Rafe chuckles at that. “Fair enough.”

“Yo, Rafe!” A loud, frat boy looking blond enters the kitchen.

Rafe gives him a quick bro hug before leaning back into your side. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“Where you been lately, dude? I haven’t seen you at a party in forever!” He gestures toward you. “I take it this is the girl who’s been taking you all your time?”

Rafe smiles warmly down at you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Trey.” He gestures back to the blond.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer.

“Yeah, you too.” Trey throws out the quick reply, clearly thinking of you as nothing beyond a fling. He turns back toward Rafe. “Look you didn’t hear this from me, but there’s some of the good stuff downstairs. You know what I mean.” He taps the side of his nose.

Rafe feels you stiffen against his side at the comment. “I’m good, man. Appreciate the heads up.”

Trey shakes his head, giving him an incredulous look. “More for me then.”

He walks away not long after, but you still feel on edge. Sensing your continuing discomfort, Rafe leads you away from the commotion and out onto an empty balcony.

“Are you okay?” He doesn’t crowd you which you appreciate, leaving a few feet of space between you. “I can tell that conversation made you uncomfortable.” For having known you only a few months, he seems to be able to read you pretty well.

You nod. “It’s just not really something we’ve talked about you know? The drug use.”

Rafe nods.

“Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do. And I don’t want to issue ultimatums. But I feel like we need to have a conversation about it before our relationship progresses any further.”

Rafe’s eyes never leave yours as he nods again, encouraging you to continue.

“I know it’s a big thing on the island, coke especially. I mean I don’t live under a rock. But I’m not comfortable around it, and I’m not comfortable surrounding myself with people who do it.” You pause for a moment, preparing yourself for what you have to say next. “Addiction is pretty prevalent in my family, and a lot of people have struggled with drug abuse. It’s a big deal to me and I don’t think I can be with you if that’s something you’re taking part in.” You hold your breath, knowing this could be the end of your budding relationship with Rafe.

He steps closer to you, reaching out to intertwine your fingers. “I understand,” he says with sincerity in his words, “I know I have a reputation Y/N, and I know you’ve looked past a lot of it to give me a chance.”

You look away, finding it hard to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid of what might come next.

“I want you to feel comfortable around me, no matter what. Would it make you feel better if I told you I’ve been clean since we met?”

Your eyes snap to his at the question. “Really?” Rafe nods in reply. “Why?”

“I knew I wanted to be with you from the day I met you, and I knew in order for that to happen I had to be the best version of myself that I could.” He shrugs. “You’re worth more than the high.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

-

(5 months earlier)

“I just don’t understand what you’re getting so upset about?”

“Rafe, I’m upset because we’ve had this dinner date planned for weeks and you suddenly canceled on me twenty minutes before you were supposed to pick me up.”

You’re standing on one side of your living room as Rafe paces across from you. Last night, the two of you were supposed to go to dinner at a nice restaurant. A date that had been planned two weeks ago when Rafe had first surprised you with the reservation. You had spent over an hour getting ready when he canceled on you with a text. No explanation as to why and a half assed apology. You don’t think he even realized you were upset about it until he showed up at your door this morning and saw the piercing glare you gave him.

“Look, there was nothing I could do about it, okay?” Rafe runs his hands through his hair. “Something just came up last minute.”

“And you won’t even tell me what it was.” His non-explanation does nothing to curb your anger. “How do you expect me to feel, Rafe?”

He softens when he sees the look in your eyes, realizing you're not so much mad as you are hurt. Hurt that he canceled, hurt that he won’t tell you why, hurt that he doesn’t seem to care.

“It was Sarah, and my dad,” Rafe offers in explanation, “I don’t know exactly what happened, but they got in this huge fight and I just needed to be there for her.” He moves closer to you. “I’m sorry, baby.”

All your anger fades away at his words. “Is she okay?” You and Sarah have gotten close since you started dating Rafe. You know all the Cameron kids have a strained relationship with their father, Rafe most of all. He’s never told you the full extent of his issues with his dad, but you know he’s very protective of his sisters when it comes to Ward.

Rafe nods. “She’ll be fine.” He wants to pull you into his arms, but he hesitates, knowing this conversation isn’t quite over.

You look at him with hurt eyes. “You could’ve told me you know. I would’ve understood.” You love how much he cares for his sisters. You never would’ve stood in the way of him being there for Sarah.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he repeats again, “I wasn’t thinking.” This time you move a little closer, opening yourself up to him. When he reaches out, you allow him to pull you into his body. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

You nod into his chest. Rafe pulls you back slowly to look into your eyes. “I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s said it, but it’s how he’s felt since day one. When you smile up at him, eyes full of adoration, he feels like his heart could burst.

“I love you too, Rafe.”

-

The Cameron house is full of music, beer, and kooks. At this point in your relationship you’ve been to a fair amount of kook parties with Rafe and while it’s still not necessarily your scene, you’ve come to feel a lot more comfortable in the chaotic atmosphere by Rafe’s side. You understand the appeal more now, even if it’s not entirely your thing.

Since Rafe is hosting this party, you spend a lot of the night with Sarah, allowing him to mingle with his friends, pour drinks, and the like. The two of you are confident in your relationship and don’t feel like you need to spend every minute together. You don’t mind him doing his hosting thing as long as he checks in on you from time to time, as you’re having fun dancing the night away with Sarah.

“Hey darlin’,” Rafe pulls you into him from behind, sliding his arm around your waist while you sway to the music, “Not having too much fun without me are you?”

You turn to wrap your arms around his neck. “Oh absolutely. You know your sister might be more fun than you are. I might just have to reconsider which Cameron I’m dating,” you tease.

Rafe feigns shock with a hand to his heart, looking between you and Sarah. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing!”

“Oh believe it, big brother!” Sarah chimes in, “She’s my girlfriend now.”

He pouts at that, turning to you with over exaggerated sad eyes. You laugh at his expression, but can’t help kissing the pout off his lips.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Sarah fakes a gag behind you as the two of you look lovingly into each other’s eyes. “Okay, you guys are gross. Rafe, leave us alone so we can dance!”

“What, now I can’t even spend time with my own girlfr–” A crash sounds from behind him. “Oh fuck. What the hell was that?”

He gives you an apologetic look but you wave him off. “It’s okay, go deal with the chaos.” You smile and he gives you one last peck on the lips before running off in the direction of the crash.

Sarah takes her place at your side again as you both watch his retreating figure. “I may give him a lot of shit, but I gotta admit, you two are really good together.” She loops her arm through yours. “Plus I got a new best friend out of the deal.”

The two of you laugh and turn back to the dance floor when you feel a hand close around your wrist. You turn with a smile, assuming Rafe has returned after dealing with the mess, but instead you come face to face with a guy you’ve never met.

“Um, hi,” you say to him, a little confused.

The guy flashes an over confident smirk at you. “Hey, babe. Wanna dance?”

“Oh, I’m actually dancing with my friend right now, but thanks.”

You try to pull your arm from his grip, but instead of talking your gentle brush off he just grips you tighter. Sarah turns back looking for you just as he pulls you hard, causing you to stumble closer to him. She gives you a worried look, but you shake your head at her. You’ve dealt with your fair share of pushy men at the bar, so you're pretty sure you can handle this yourself.

“Oh come on.” He speaks uncomfortably close to your face. So much so that you can smell the alcohol coming off his breath in waves. “It’s just a dance.”

“I said no.” You yank your arm stiffly from his grip. “Find someone else.”

Your defiance does little more than anger him as he lunges for you again, this time gripping both arms so tightly you’re sure he’ll leave a bruise.

“Hey!” Sarah jumps in now as this situation escalates. “She said no. Back off!”

In the kitchen, Rafe is finishing up dealing with the most recent crisis when he hears voices raising in the living room. Oh god, what now?

“Yo Rafe!” Topper rushes into the kitchen. “You better get out here man. Some guy is harassing Y/N.”

Rafe charges into the living room after his best friend, freezing when he sees you. Some guy has got ahold of both of your arms while you try to pull away, Sarah trying in vain to get in between the two of you, and the rest of the crowd looking around nervously, clearly waiting for the moment when Rafe finds out what is happening.

Sarah is all up in the guy’s face, practically biting his head off, but you can’t really hear what is being said at this point. You’re finding it a little hard to breathe at the moment, unable to concentrate on anything except how trapped you feel as you continue to pull against his strong grip.

You can feel your eyes welling up as your breathing shallows, but right before the tears can fall the guy is ripped away from you. You stumble back into Sarah’s arms as a tall body plants themselves protectively in front of you.

“Stay the hell away from her,” Rafe practically growls out.

“Hey, I didn’t do anything wrong! She was all over me, man.”

Rafe is physically holding himself back at that, hands trembling with the effort. “I can guarantee you, she was not.” He wants to cave the guy’s face in, but he knows that would just upset you more and he doesn’t want to do anything to add to your anxiety.

The guy stalks forward again, angry at being embarrassed in front of all these people, and gets in Rafe’s face. “You need to back the fuck up,” Rafe barks out.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“First of all, I’m her boyfriend.” The guy goes to make an angry retort, probably about you wanting him, but Rafe cuts him off. “And second of all, I’m the one throwing this damn party.”

The guy pales in realization, he may not have known what Rafe Cameron looks like, but he clearly knows this is his party, and he just pissed off the kook king big time.

“Now get the fuck out of my house.” Rafe looks over at Topper who nods and grabs the guy by the back of his shirt, marching him straight out the front door.

Rafe turns toward you, still shaking in Sarah’s embrace. He opens his arms and you bury yourself in his chest as he leads you away from the crowd up to his bedroom. As you walk you can hear Sarah yell behind you, “Alright everyone, party’s over! Go home.”

As he shuts the door to his bedroom, Rafe speaks softly in your ear, “I’m so sorry, baby. I should’ve been there.”

You shake your head. “I’m okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving your side at a party ever again. I promise.” He crawls on the bed pulling you so you're laying fully on top of him. “I won’t let anyone lay their hands on you again.”

You just nod, nustling deeper in his embrace, finally feeling the trembling dissipate as you begin to feel safe again in his arms.

-

(3 months earlier)

You sat around the fire listening as one of your friends told a story about a terrible first date she went on last week. You plant your face in your hands and groan as she tells you the cheesy pickup line he used at the end of the night, Sarah falling into fits of laughter beside you.

“I honestly can’t believe you didn’t just walk out at this point,” she gets out between giggles.

You nod your head enthusiastically. “Girl, you have gotta start finding better people to date.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says in a teasing voice, “Not all of us can be in the perfect relationship, okay?”

You put your hands up in mock surrender, letting her continue on her rant of first dates being the worst. Your relationship with Rafe isn’t perfect, but you won’t deny that it's pretty damn close.

You and your friends put this bonfire together at the beach as a chance to just relax and catch up. Sarah, Topper, and a few others sit with you on the sand. Rafe coming a little later in the night because he has to run a few quick errands for his dad, but you don’t mind. This is the first time you’ve really had a solid group of friends since you were a kid, and it’s nice to feel relaxed and happy even without your boyfriend there.

A few minutes later, you hear a truck pull up and a car door shut. You turn with a bright smile on your face, excited to see your boyfriend after a long day without him, but your excitement turns to worry when you see the look on his face. He plasters on a smile as he makes it to the group, but you know him well enough to see right through it. You turn to Sarah and the look she gives you confirms that something is definitely wrong with Rafe.

“Hey, let’s go on a little walk, okay?” You give him a small smile. “We’ll be back in a few, guys.”

Your friends respond with a chorus of okay’s and see ya’s and Sarah gives you an encouraging nod.

Trekking along the water line, you take Rafe’s hand in yours. “What’s going on, baby? You seem upset.”

“Just a long day. My dad was a lot.”

You nod. “Do you wanna tell me about it?”

“Maybe in a little while. Can we just walk for a bit?”

“Of course.”

He tucks you into his side, enjoying the way your presence grounds him after the day he’s had. You wait patiently until he’s ready to start speaking. Rafe doesn’t talk about his dad too often around you. He’s told you the basics of how they don’t really get along and that he can be pressuring and overbearing, but that’s the extent of it.

While he knows that you would be supportive and that it’s good to get it out, he doesn’t like recounting their fights. It usually just makes him feel trapped back in that moment. This, however, is the worst fight they’ve had in a while and he just can’t deal with it himself this time.

“He told me I’m a failure and that I can’t be trusted to do anything right.” Rafe rushes out the sentence in one breath.

You stop abruptly, turning to face him. “He said what?”

“He said that I’m never going to be a successful adult, because I can’t even do the simple tasks he asks of me. And that I’m distracted all the time and never spend enough time at home or doing the work he needs me to do.”

“Rafe,” you say softly, but he’s not finished.

“He wants me to break up with you because he thinks you take up too much of my time and don’t respect him or the way he runs our family.”

You can’t help the look of disbelief that crosses your face. “Oh my god.”

“I know.” Then he rushes to add, “I told him no obviously. I’m not breaking up with you because he told me too. I’d never do that.”

“No, baby, I know.” You reach a hand up to his cheek, rubbing your thumb back and forth to calm him down. “That’s not what I’m worried about. But that was a lot for you to hear, Rafe.”

He nods slightly, trying and failing to hide the tears welling up in his eyes.

“You’re not a failure, baby.” You turn his head toward you gently. “If he can’t see the amazing man you’ve become, the capable, confident, happy man that you are, then that’s his deficiency not yours.”

Rafe looks back at the ground, whispering in agreement, but it’s clear he doesn’t mean it.

“Rafe Cameron, you are an incredible man. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. And I will remind you of that everyday until you believe it.” You duck down under his lowered gaze until your eyes meet. “Screw your dad.” You add sternly.

That earns you a little smile and a squeeze of your hand. “Thank you,” Rafe murmurs.

You pull him to sit next to you on the sand. “Why don’t we just stay here for a little while? We don’t have to go back to the bonfire quite yet.”

And there you sit, for the rest of the night, your back pressed to Rafe’s front, his arms around your waist while you rub soothing circles into his arms. Enjoying the breeze, the sound of the waves, and most of all, each other's company, because as long as you have each other it doesn’t matter what else goes wrong in the world.

-

(2 months earlier)

“Come on, Y/N!”

“Rafe, I’ve told you a hundred times, I can’t go to Jason’s party with you tonight. I have to work. You’ll just have to go with Top.”

You’re standing behind the bar arguing with Rafe, who apparently drove all the way all the way to your place of employment to beg you to go to this party with him, even though he knows damn well that you have a shift tonight.

“Can’t you blow off work just this once?” Rafe tries again.

“No, Rafe, I can’t.” You pace back and forth in front of him, getting dangerously close to being late for work. “If I don’t work this shift, I won’t be able to make rent this month, not to mention the fact that they’d probably fire me for bailing this late.”

“It’s like you don’t even want to spend time with me?”

“Because I won’t blow off work for you? Rafe, I need this money. You know what, I’m done with this conversation. I’m going to be late. We’ll talk about this later.” With that final statement, you stalk inside, not even pausing to glance back at your boyfriend.

You can’t stop thinking about your fight while you work, turning the words over and over in your head throughout your shift. You know Rafe has never had to worry about money or even really about having a job, but usually he was pretty understanding of your life and finances. He knew you needed this job to survive and as much as you wish it could be different, at this point in your life, work had to take precedence over hanging out with friends. You couldn’t afford for it not to.

By the end of your shift, you decide that you and Rafe should wait until morning to talk. You still feel pretty hot about the whole situation, and nothing good would come from the two of you arguing all night. In the morning, you could stop by his place and have a discussion when both of you had clear heads.

You pack up your stuff, saying goodbye to your coworkers and heading to your car when you notice two new voicemails from Rafe. You play the first.

“Hey darlin’, it's me. I was an asshole earlier and you have every right to be mad at me. I shouldn’t have asked you to skip out on work and I definitely shouldn’t have made it all about me. I know how important this job is for you. Just call me back please. I hate it when we fight. I love you, baby.”

You let out a deep sigh, your heart clenching. You hated fighting with him too, but you still think the night would do you both some good. You play the second voicemail while you start driving.

“Y/N,” Rafe’s voice breaks on your name, “I know you’re still mad at me, but I need you.”

You stiffen at the pain in his voice, feeling a little panicked.

“Dad and I got in this huge fight and– It was really bad,” He whispers the last part, “Call me back please. I need you.”

You pull over quickly, clicking on his contact in your phone. Your fingers drum anxiously on the wheel with every ring, but there’s no answer. You try again to no avail. As a last resort, you try calling Topper. He picks up on the second ring.

“Y/N! Where you at?” You can hear the noise of the party in the background.

“Top, is Rafe with you?”

“Yeah, he’s around here somewhere! I saw him just a few minutes ago.”

“Great, I’m on my way.” You hang up before he even has a chance to say goodbye, turning around in the middle of the road to make your way to Jason’s house.

For once, you’re glad you live on such a small island, because it only takes you a few minutes to get to the party. You park quickly and head inside, looking for your boyfriend all the while. It only takes you a few seconds to spot Topper and Sarah in the living room.

“Hey girl!” Sarah gives you a big hug.

“Hey, have you seen your brother?”

She shakes her head. “Last I saw he was in the backyard.”

“No, no,” Topper chimes in, “We saw him a few minutes ago. I think he was heading to the back room.”

“Oh yeah!” Sarah nods along.

“Thanks guys.” You head in the direction they pointed, ignoring their calls to take a shot with them. The only thought in your head after hearing that message is finding your boyfriend and making sure he’s okay.

Pushing through the crowds, you finally make your way into the back room, letting out a sign of relief when you see your boyfriend sprawled out on the couch. He turns your way, catching your eye with a deer in the headlights expression on his face. The relief you felt disappearing as fast as it arrived when you see the white power under his nose.

Before Rafe can say a word, you spin on your heel, heading back the way you came.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait!” He calls after you, but you don’t stop.

It isn’t until you push past your friends and out the front door until he finally catches up to you. Rafe grabs your arm, spinning you to face him. Behind him you can see Sarah and Topper have followed the two of you into the front yard with confused and concerned looks on their faces.

“Y/N, baby, would you stop? Where are you going?”

“Where am I going? Rafe, are you kidding me?” You shove his hand off your arm. “I’m going home.”

“Why?”

“Because you are high out of your mind!” He has the decency to look ashamed at that. “You told me you were done with this, Rafe. You knew how uncomfortable you using drugs made me and you told me you were done, that I was worth more than the high. Clearly that wasn’t true.” You turn back toward your car.

“What the hell was I supposed to do, Y/N? I needed you and you weren’t there! You didn’t even answer the phone when I called.”

You whirl around. “I was at work! I didn’t even have my phone on me, Rafe. I had no idea that you called.” Rafe opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “No. You don’t get to blame this on me. I rushed over here after a long, miserable shift of replaying our fight over and over in our mind, just to make sure you were okay. You made this choice. You chose to throw away everything we had. Six months down the drain for a meaningless high.”

“Baby, please.” The tears in his eyes and pain on his face threaten to crack you in half, but you’ve made up your mind. This is one thing you can’t forgive.

You can barely get the words out, your voice nothing more than a broken whisper. “I’m done.”

You rush to your car, leaving Rafe standing there in shock. Before you can shut your door, Sarah is there pulling you into a hug. “Let me come with you, you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

You shake your head. “No, stay with Rafe. He's your brother. He needs you more right now. He just gave up eight months clean and sober, that’s going to be hell to come back from.”

She just gives you an uncertain look. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

You try to hold it together as you drive home, but you don’t make it more than a few miles before you have to pull over, crying too hard to continue. By the time you make it home, it’s been over an hour since the party. You crawl in bed straight away, crying until there’s no tears left and you fall into an uneasy sleep.

-

(Back to present)

Rafe stumbles back into the living room, looking for anything and everything that will distract him from thoughts of you. He makes it to the kitchen, quickly downing a shot before pouring himself another when he hears a noise. He freezes for a moment, thinking the universe is taunting him, then turns slowly.

There you are talking to Sarah, beautiful as ever, with your head thrown back in a laugh, and another man’s arm around your waist.

-

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