#rafe x marshgirl!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sematarygirls · 3 days ago

Text

⠀ ⠀⠀♯┆marshgirl!reader x rafe ⏤ part i.ㅤ ۪ ୧

ᰋ. ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“ i asked my father if he believed in ghosts; he told me he would be one someday ,, ‎‎ ‎ ‎ : ‎‎ ‎ ‎IN WHICH . . . rafe bets that he can befriend the weird girl who resides in the marsh. ─── ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆🌾

THE CYPRUS BRANCHES swayed in the gentle breeze of the early morning, mist still clinging low to the murky water and roots of the trees. The air was thick with the earthy scent of damp soil and natural decomposition of material as well as the sickly sweet smell of crushed wildflowers under your feet.

You moved through the marsh like you were born from it— maybe you were—with quick, precise steps that avoided stray tree roots, sticks, rocks, and the occasional small animal. Your skirt swished at your ankles, wetted with fresh mud as you returned home from your morning scavenge of all the fascinating things nature had to offer.

Your lonely little cabin where you resided with your father was tucked away from the roads and civilization. He often told you that the world was dangerous, and it would eat a girl like you alive, so it was better to stay in the marsh where it was safe.

He'd never quite explained your way of life. You knew you were different, not like the other kids your age, but you didn't understand why, and whenever you dared ask, he would get agitated, asking you who put those thoughts into your head.

Maybe it was paranoia, a fear of what others were capable of, a fear of being out of control. Maybe it was grief, the loss of your mother so achingly deep that all he could do was run away and disappear.

Or maybe he was hiding something from you, from the world. Maybe the real reason for keeping you isolated had nothing to do with keeping you safe but rather, protecting whatever secrets he had buried in the marsh so long ago.

As you approached, you heard the familiar song of your handmade windchimes—made from animal bones, shards of glass, and rusty metals you had collected—and the piercing creaking of the old rocking chair that sat on the porch and moved with the wind. It was comforting. It was the sound of home.

"Daddy?" You called softly, pushing the creaky wooden door open and pausing to take your muddy boots off and set them down outside to keep from tracking mud inside before venturing into the house to retrieve this month's grocery list.

Once a month, on the last day of the month, you were permitted to go into town to stock up on groceries for the coming weeks. It had been a ritual like clockwork since you were thirteen. Though at that age you weren't technically allowed to be driving, your father insisted upon it anyway.

Padding further inside, your feet instinctively avoiding the spots in the floorboards that stuck up or had exposed nail heads, you found your father sitting in his worn, leather chair, knife in hand as he whittled something out of wood. "Back already?" He asked, glancing up at you. His gaze was always sharp and scrutinizing like he expected to catch you in a lie, and his voice was deep and rough, his vocal cords like rocks that had been weathered by a stream.

You nodded, the scent of burning wood from the fireplace mingling in the air with the smell of dried herbs and fresh flowers and infiltrating your senses. Your eyes followed his motions as he scraped the knife against the wood with slow, deliberate strokes, the sound of him humming in acknowledgement reaching your ears.

After a beat of silence, he sighed heavily, looking up at you with that piercing gaze as he set his knife down on the table, a little harsher than intended. "Remember the rules," he said firmly, his tone warning as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Get what we need and come straight home. No lingering or talking to strangers," he reminded you, like he always did despite you having done this dozens of times.

"Yes, sir," you replied softly with an obedient nod, reaching for the paper in his outstretched hand. He held it firmly for a moment, not letting you take it as he searched your eyes, as if he could pull the truth from your bones. Clearly, he decided you were telling the truth about obeying his strict rules because he loosened his grip, allowing the paper to slip from his fingers.

You slipped the paper into your bag—the same one you'd used to collect your trinkets—and turned on your heels, heading back to the front door. You swiped your dad's keys from the table by the door before closing it behind you, paying no mind to the screeching that would have made anyone else wince.

Slipping on your boots and trudging down the crumbling wooden steps, you noticed a shift of atmosphere; you always did when you were leaving. The wind seemed to blow a little harder, whistling to catch your attention as you started your father's rusty old truck and put it in reverse to make your way toward the road. In response, a nearby crow cawed loudly, causing a few others to follow.

The marsh didn't like when you went into town.

Neither did you.

The drive was always unsettling and left a pit in your stomach as the trees grew few and farther between and more houses came into view, eventually giving way to buildings crowded together and pavement instead of greenery.

You pulled into the parking lot, the truck's engine rattling as you put the car into park. People stared before you even got out of the car; they always did.

Stepping out, you felt the weight of eyes upon you, hushed whispers following you as you walked with your head held high. You didn't mind them. You always figured they were just curious, as you were about them.

Across the street, Rafe, Topper, and Kelce were exiting a high-end clothing store when they caught sight of you. "Holy shit, country cryptic incoming," Topper smirked, nudging Rafe and nodding to your form retreating into the grocery store.

"Bro, I swear she only crawls out of the swamp, like, once a year," Kelce said, following Topper's motion. They kept walking down the street, farther and farther away, but their conversation stayed centered around you.

"What do you think she's buying? Eye of newt? Frog legs?" Topper snickered, finding himself incredibly funny.

"She's gonna hear you two talking shit and hex you," Rafe quipped, smirking as he pushed his sunglasses up his nose. "Yknow, make your dicks shrivel up in your sleep."

"I'm not sure Topper's can get any smaller," Kelce snorted.

Topper shoved Kelce with an indignant scoff. "Shut the fuck up, man, not cool."

Rafe grinned, his gaze flickering back to the doors you'd just disappeared through. It was rare to see you in town, so rare that it became a spectacle. People would wait for your inevitable return and tell tales, most of them bullshit, about what they'd allegedly seen you do or heard you say when they encountered you.

A thought occurred to him that had him smirking. "What do you say we make this a little more interesting?" He proposed, making Topper and Kelce quit their bickering over dick sizes and look over at him with pinched brows.

"What do you mean?" They asked, almost in unison, their curiosity undoubtedly piqued.

"I think we should talk to her, see what her deal is, yknow. I don't think anyone in this town has actually ever heard her say more than, what, three words?" Rafe grinned, like he had just said something revolutionary.

The two boys looked at each other before bursting out laughing. "There's no way she'll talk to us, let alone you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rafe scowled, his face growing hot. He didn't appreciate being challenged.

"It means you're the biggest asshole I know," Kelce rolled his eyes, always one to tell it like it was. He wasn't as much a lapdog as Topper was. "You're like the last person she'll want to talk to."

"Girls talk to me all the time," Rafe defended, gritting his teeth at the insult.

"Yeah," Topper snorted. "When they're trying to fuck you. Not when they're, yknow, feral." He bared his teeth and made a clawing motion for emphasis.

Rafe was determined to prove them wrong. Nothing made him more willing to do something than when someone told him he couldn't. "Fine then, let's make a bet."

Kelce raised a brow. "A bet?"

"What kind of bet?" Topper asked.

Rafe’s grin stretched wider, cocky and self-assured. “I bet I can get her to talk to me. Not just talk, but, like… really talk. Get her to like me, maybe even fall for me."

Kelce and Topper exchanged glances, their skepticism evident. "You think you can make her fall for you?" Topper scoffed. "Dude, she's probably never even talked to a guy before."

"Exactly," Rafe smirked, already having decided that this would be a piece of cake to pull off. All he had to do was turn up the Cameron charm, and she'd fall to her knees. "That just makes it easier."

Kelce snorted. "Or it makes it fucking impossible. She lives in a swamp, bro. She probably doesn't even know what flirting is."

"That's the fun part," Rafe shrugged with a cocky grin, adjusting his sunglasses as he glanced toward the grocery store doors again. "She won’t even see it coming."

"Alright," Kelce shrugged, deciding this would be the easiest money he ever made. "You're on. If you can't get her to fall for you in a month, you owe us big time." Topper nodded in agreement.

And just like that, the deal was made. Rafe had one month to woo you into going on a real date with him, out in town where he would be able to prove to Kelce and Topper that he was every bit the man he claimed to be and that no woman was resistant to his charm, all of this completely unbeknownst to you.

୭ৎ

author's notes .ᐟ this is definitely not my best work. i really like the beginning, but i am terrible at dialogue and being descriptive when people are talking. i hope you enjoyed it anyway !! this will be a series, but i will take misc requests for marshgirl!reader and rafe at any stage of their relationship <33 also i didn't edit this because i'm tired, so if you see any mistakes, please lmk !!

tags .ᐟ @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @bradshawed / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif / @fakedhearts / @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 /

450 notes · View notes

sematarygirls · 1 month ago

Text

🌾 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── introducing marshgirl!reader

social recluse .ᐟ morbid curiosity. 1212. animal bones. animal figurines. porcelain dolls. lace. cobwebs. mud-stained boots. crows. rocking chairs. vintage music boxes. pressed flowers.

.ᐟ marshgirl!reader who only rarely goes into town, only making the trip when it's absolutely necessary, which leads to a plethora of rumors and legends surrounding her and her home by the marsh. some say she's crazy, some say she's not human, some even speculate she kills people out there, the secluded nature of the marsh making it so no one can hear her victims scream.

.ᐟ marshgirl!reader who has off-putting behavior that freaks people out. she has a tendency to stare unsettlingly long at people without blinking and is hyper aware of sounds. she tilts her head, listening to things no one else can seem to hear, which makes her seem paranoid and strange. she can also identify people by how they walk, saying she can hear the "true rhythm" of their footsteps.

.ᐟ marshgirl!reader who offers gifts of small birds, animal bones, and small, hand-carved wooden sculptures as offers of friendship because she claims they're "good luck."

.ᐟ marshgirl!reader who rarely speaks, especially when not spoken to first, but when she does, her voice is low and soft, almost a whisper, as if she’s afraid of being overheard. she says cryptic, unnerving things like, “the marsh knows secrets people forget," and "the whistling of the wind is the screams of the damned."

.ᐟ marshgirl!reader who always smells faintly of wet moss, wood smoke, and something metallic, which lingers after she’s gone and makes people uneasy without knowing why. she often has sticks and leaves in her hair, a long skirt with mud caked onto the ends, and is always seen in the same pair of worn, dirty boots.

.ᐟ marshgirl!reader who decorates her home with windchimes made of bones and bits of glass that create eerie sounds when the wind blows. she claims they protect her family and keep away unwelcome spirits.

.ᐟ marshgirl!reader who has been sheltered by her father since she was born, so she doesn't understand "normal" social cues. she doesn't realize when people are mocking her, and in turn, believes rafe is genuine when he shows up to her home, showing interest in her.

୭ৎ marshgirl!reader works below .ᐟ

00. marshgirl!reader playlist.

01. rafe makes a bet regarding marshgirl!reader.

235 notes · View notes