#topper obx

[papercranesandinkstains]

Kildare University- Sophomore Year: 9

Synopsis: A Social Media AU in which you find yourself at Kildare University along with your friends. Starting over at a new school shouldn't be difficult. Well, except for the fact that your ex-boyfriend is the quarterback, and you are the drum major. Add in a little bit of drama, a lot of friendship, an ex who can't seem to let you go, and a best friend who has been in love with you since you were kids and well? Welcome to KU!

Pairings: Past!Rafe x Reader, JJ x Reader, Rafe x Reader

Masterlist

Taglist:

@akobx @onelonelybitch @the-universe-and-karma @beeskisses @frankoceanluvr11 @ivy-34 @rafecameronsloverrrrr @k-k0129 @asyouwish-fromcabin3 @xoxo-ada @aariahnaa @strawberryforks @urbrunettebombshell @whatisoutside @spenceatiny18 @animalistic0

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only

Carter could hear his car approaching before it even came into view.

She had been grounded for two weeks, caught out with Topper on his granddad’s boat past curfew, and she had never been more bored in her life. Slumped back on the couch, she dipped her hand in the bag to grab another chip, pausing mid-bite when she heard the familiar hum of Rafe’s truck engine growl down the street.

“Oh fuck no,” she hopped off the couch, a trail of crumbs in her wake as she jogged to the front door. 

Though she knew you were away for the afternoon, your mom taking you to tour a local college on the mainland, she instinctively double checked that your car was still gone. She was thankful you weren’t here to see him in his oversized ego-mobile zipping down your street like he owned it.

You’d been devastated all week, crying yourself to sleep in the wake of seeing Rafe kiss Cassie Bryant. Nothing made Carter angrier than knowing you were hurt and not being able to do anything about it. 

She couldn’t believe his nerve to show up here. He’d been texting to you all week, clearly not taking your lack of response for the answer that it was. You were finally finding the strength to stay away from him, and she was not about to let that unravel.

She stood on the front porch, closing the door firmly behind her, arms crossed and stance wide like she was prepared to defend her castle. Really, she was prepared to defend you.

Rafe parallel parked on the street, some misogynistic country song blaring from his subwoofers. Carter rolled her eyes at the way his massive truck took up enough space for two cars, always claiming what wasn’t his, taking and taking and giving nothing in return.

Closing the driver’s door with a bang, Rafe hopped down from his truck and strolled toward the house, stopping short in the front walk when he noticed Carter glaring out at him.

“You have some fucking nerve, Cameron,” she spat at him.

“I’m not here for you,” he glared back.

“Well no one else in this house wants to talk to your ass right now so you can go ahead and turn right back around.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just wanna know why she wasn’t at my game today.”

“Uh-oh,” she tilted her head in mock-sympathy, “did ya lose?”

He clenched his jaw, an angry huff of air flaring his nostrils, “yeah, we lost.”

“Good.”

“Can you just let me in?” He started moving toward the front steps, but she didn’t move from her spot blocking the door. “I need to talk to her and she’s not answering my texts.”

“Do you think that’s an accident?” She scoffed. “Take a hint.”

“Okay, what’s your fucking problem, Carter?” He snapped the sentence off with a bite of her name.

“You’re my problem, Rafe,” she bit right back.

“What the fuck did I do? Why isn’t your sister answering my calls?”

“I dunno, maybe you should ask Cassie Bryant,” her hands uncrossed and rested on her hips.

Rafe stepped back, head dropping back in exasperation as he rolled his eyes at the sky.

“That’s what this is about? Cassie and I are just hooking up, what’s the big deal?”

“You mean besides the fact that Cassie’s made my sister’s life hell since they were in the same Kindergarten class?” She threw at him. “Or that you’ve been dragging my sister along since she was six years old just to ditch her for some wannabe Addison Rae tiktok flop?”

“God, you’re always so fucking dramatic, it isn’t even like that,” he gestured toward the window of your bedroom, still assuming you were up there somewhere avoiding him, “your sister knows we’re cool.”

“You’re not cool, Rafe. You’re an idiot,” she told him with a pitying shake of her head. 

Rafe turned her words over in his head, finally stopping long enough to consider the possibility that he’d done more damage than he initially thought.

“Is she really mad at me?” He mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Carter sighed, “No. She’s not mad at you. She’s never mad at you, that’s the problem. You don’t make her mad, you make her sad. All you ever do is make her sad.”

Shoulders falling, Rafe looked past Carter with a vacant stare. He looked so confused and distraught she almost felt bad for him. Almost. 

“I didn’t mean to make her sad,” he mumbled, almost at a whisper.

Carter scanned him with narrowed eyes, trying to decide if his penance was sincere. He looked down at his shoes, digging the tip of one into the stony walkway.

“How do I fix it?”

Carter started to think maybe he was sincere after all, but she still wasn’t sure he was in any place to be asking for advice.

“I don’t know if you can,” she told him.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said hopefully, trying to console himself. “She’ll come around.”

He looked at Carter like he was actually expecting her to agree.

“And then what, Rafe?” She tilted her head, genuinely curious about the answer. “What’s the end game here? You’ll just make her sad for a few more months and then go off to school and…what?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged defensively. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Exactly. You don’t think things through. That’s always been your problem,” she informed him, “you just do what you want and pay no attention to how it affects other people. If you really cared about her, you wouldn’t keep putting her through the same shit over and over.”

“I do care about her,” he mumbled, her words beginning to penetrate his carefully constructed antagonistic armor.

“I wish I could believe that,” she shook her head sadly, “I wish she could believe that. At least when she did, she wasn’t crying herself to sleep every night.”

Sour regret burned in his throat at the thought of your tears dripping onto your pillowcase, some unfamiliar heartache he didn’t understand. 

“Maybe you could convince her that I do,” he offered, “she listens to you.”

“Why would I do that?” Carter snapped.

“Because then she wouldn’t be so sad,” his voice was so feeble it was like he was shrinking right before her eyes, his tall, intimidating frame so small and inadequate under the towering shadow of his guilt.

“Tell you what Rafe,” she began, “I’ll try and convince her that you care about her if you can look me in the eyes and tell me with your whole chest that you won’t hurt her anymore, that you won’t use her to your advantage, or drop off the face of the earth for weeks not answering her texts, or kiss other girls right in front of her face. That you’ll fight for her and put her before your own selfish bullshit. Can you make that promise?”

He wrung his hands, mindlessly adjusting the ring on his right forefinger, jaw clenched as he tried to will forth a convincing enough yes. He couldn’t do it.

“That’s what I thought,” Carter said. “If you can’t fight for her, then…”

“What?” He asked desperately, hoping she’d offer him some olive branch shaped way out of the  shame engulfing his chest.

“Then I am asking you- begging you really - to let her go. Stop texting, stop coming by the house, stop making promises you’re not gonna keep. Please. If not for me, then for her.”

“Do you think that’s what she wants?” He asked.

“No. But I think it’s what she needs,” she said, knowing it would kill you if you knew she was doing this, but believing with her whole heart that it was right.

Rafe rarely thought about the future. The farthest his mind went was the next few minutes in front of him. It was his fatal flaw, acting for the moment and not for the moment after, or the version of himself that would face the consequences of his poor choices. Yet, in this moment, he had the keen sense that his next move would be a pivotal one, the gravity of it making his feet feel heavy on the stone pathway. He could stay, he could argue, scream your name until you came out and talked to him. But then what? Would he have the courage to follow through? Was he enough of a man to handle the weight of your expectation?

Ultimately, he knew the right thing was to stay and fight, but the easy thing would be to just go.

So, as he almost always did, Rafe made the easy choice.

“Okay,” he nodded to Carter. “I’ll let her go.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice shaking with the fear that if you knew what she just convinced him to do, you’d never forgive her. 

“I’m not doing it for you,” he made sure she knew before turning and climbing back into his truck.

Once in the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone, looking at your name in his contacts. Like his fingers were moving without his mind’s permission, he deleted you. It didn’t matter really, he thought, he’d remember your number on his deathbed. He’d remember it all, and he’d hate himself forever for driving away.

Carter stayed on the porch, watching him go, praying desperately that you’d never find out she was the reason he left.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

“We’re gonna have to go back eventually,” you said.

Rafe sat behind you in the sand, holding you with his chin resting easy on your shoulder as you took in the sprawling pink sunrise together. 

“Says who?” He countered.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. His eyelids were heavy, purple under the eyes from the exhaustion of being awake all night.

“You’re falling asleep,” you noticed.

“Yeah because some girl kept me up all night, begging me to take her to the beach and kiss her,” he joked.

“Excuse me, sir, this was your idea!” You sat up and stretched, your words making him laugh despite his immediate discomfort at the loss of your body in his arms. “What time is it anyway?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “my phone’s in the car.”

“Mine too,” you chuckled, “I hope Carter’s okay. She was looking rough before we left.”

He had half a mind to propose the two of you never leave the beach, but he could hear the genuine concern under your lighthearted words. He stood from the sand and dusted himself off, reaching out a hand to pull you to your feet. You took it with a smile, lingering for a moment as you stood, your hand in his, taking one last look around the beach, searching for some kind of landmark.

“What are you looking for?” He asked.

“I just want to remember exactly where we were,” you explained.

“Why, you wanna recreate it?” He smiled softly at you.

“Oh, I plan to recreate it many times,” you wink at him.

It took all his strength to leave that spot and head back to the car, back to the house full of people who weren’t you, back to reality.

“I can drive,” he suggested, planning to take the slowest route possible, and actually follow the speed limit for the first time in his life.

As soon as he started the car up, your CD started blasting through the speakers. You laughed at each other, the catalyst of this whole encounter feeling like it was days ago. The time on the car radio told you it’d only been about two hours. You lifted your phone but the screen remained black.

“Shit, it’s dead,” you told him, opening the glovebox and digging around for a charger.

While you were distracted, Rafe lifted his own phone from the cupholder he’d left it in. His screen did light up, displaying a slew of frantic texts from Topper and Kelce. He winced, wishing he hadn’t looked. He didn’t read the texts, not wanting whatever nonsense they were bothering him with to pop the blissful bubble wrapped around the two of you. He knew he shouldn’t start off your new…whatever this was…by lying to you, but he needed to stay in this happy place just a little longer.

“Mine’s dead too,” he lied, flipping the phone over in the cup holder to hide the screen.

“Of course Carter doesn’t have a charger,” you sighed, “she has like twenty hair ties and lipglosses, but no charger. Classic.”

“I know my way back,” he shrugged, “we’ll be good.”

Rafe put the car in reverse, backing out of the little side road with his arm on the seat next to your head. You watched the way he turned in his seat to look out the back window, neck muscles flexing with the stretch and his big hand manipulating the steering wheel with ease. 

For the first time in the sixteen years you’d known him, you didn’t try to hide your gaze as you took him in. The same attraction that used to make you feel skittish and ashamed now settled over you peacefully, like an icy winter finally melting into a warm, bright spring. You looked at him all you wanted, noting every detail, taking mental photographs of every inch of his skin.

You’d always thought he was cute - actually, no, you always thought he was hot as fuck - but now for the first time, you allowed yourself to look long enough to notice how beautiful he was. Pins and needles burst out all over your body as you realized how badly you needed to kiss him again.

Rafe could feel your eyes on him as he drove, choosing not to say anything and risk you looking away. He felt at home in your gaze, happier than he could ever remember being.

Inhibitions left back on the beach, you fearlessly reached out toward him, hand grazing gently over his jaw. You loved the ticklish little stubble that had grown there in just a few days without shaving. You smiled as you thought about the boy who could barely grow peach fuzz, now a man, strong and solid under your fingertips. Something warm and electric buzzed in your stomach, and you knew Rafe could feel it too, his skin heating under your tender touch.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the road but leaning slightly into your hand to encourage you to keep touching him.

“Nothing,” you smiled, “I’ve just never gotten to look at you this long.”

“Is it making you change your mind?” He smirked, clearly not worried about the answer, his confidence making him impossibly sexier.

“Just the opposite,” you confirmed, “I think you’re always gonna have to drive from now on.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well now that I’ve gotten a good look I don’t think I could keep my eyes on the road. I always had the hardest time not looking over at you.”

Rafe grinned wide as your hand slipped from his jaw to the back of his head, fingers lacing in his soft hair, scratching his scalp lovingly. There was no rhyme or reason to your movements, but you didn’t care, you just needed your hands on him. He didn’t seem to mind, head leaning back into your palm to let you know he needed you as much as you needed him.

“I know you did,” he said.

“How?” You asked.

“Because I could never keep myself from looking over at you,” he confessed.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered their way through your chest. Now you were certain- you’d never been more attracted to anyone as you were to him in this moment.

Rafe took your silent smile as a good sign, “did I get another A with that line?”

Your hand slid slowly down to his shoulder, over the ridges and ripples of his arms, flexing under your soft touch, until you found his hand, pulling it into your own. 

“Gold stars, baby,” you smiled.

Rafe’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the air in the car becoming thicker by the second as he shifted in his seat. You beamed at him, realizing with a flurry of excitement - you had Rafe Cameron flustered.

“You like when I call you baby?” You purred, eager to see how far you could push it.

His grip tightened around your hand, “you can’t say shit like that to me when I’m driving.”

You could feel the dam breaking. You needed him. Now.

“Then pull over.”

He finally took his eyes off the road for a second at that, looking over at you for confirmation; are you serious? You gave him a steely, lustful look in return; as a heart attack.

Rafe practically popped a tire turning the wheel hard and pulling the car down a side street, driving until he found a little secluded enclave by the beach, a perfectly private spot. He threw the car in park, making you laugh at the jolt it gave with his urgency. He didn’t waste a second, reaching both hands over to grab your face and pull your lips to his.

You sighed into his mouth, no hesitancy holding you back from slipping your tongue between his lips. He pulled away just long enough to grit out a raspy, “come here,” before throwing his seatbelt off.

You unbuckled your own, holding tight to his shoulders as you swung your leg over the console and climbed, somewhat awkwardly, into his lap. Your head fell back in laughter as your butt accidentally pressed the horn, the sound blasting through the quiet morning air. Rafe laughed too, easing your slight embarrassment as he reached down to slide the seat back.

Once you had more room, you pulled back to get a better look at him. He looked up at you with wide blue eyes, so gentle and kind in the way they took you in. Rafe reached up and brushed your hair over your shoulder, taking a deep breath as his hands grazed your shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered to fill the silence.

You cracked the slightest smile, unable to repress your amusement.

“What?” He puzzled.

“I just didn’t imagine you to be so…sweet like this,” you explained, though you hated how the words sounded coming out of your mouth, afraid it would sound like a criticism and cause him to withdraw.

“Only for you,” he said.

“Uh oh,” you teased, hands laying flat over his chest as you leaned forward, relieved you hadn’t ruined the moment after all, “is big bad Rafe Cameron going weak for me?”

“He always has been,” he nodded, his dimples creasing his cheeks with his sheepish smile.

You slid your hands up to either side of his face, thumbs dipping into his dimples. You’d always wanted to do that. You couldn’t believe that after all that waiting and longing, you really could just lean forward and kiss him if you wanted to. 

So you did, like you were trying to prove to yourself that this was actually real. The second your lips met his, you could tell he was thinking the same exact thing.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips as he sat up off the seat just slightly to meet your mouth fervently. You bent over him, your hair falling in a curtain around his face. His hands felt so good, so right, warm and strong against you. You smiled into the kiss as you could feel them sliding so slowly, reverently, over your curves, until they found a home on your lower back, bringing you forward to rest fully against him. It was the same gentle control he had taken on the jetski, and it was addictive.

He was hard, you could feel him firm beneath you, and your head flooded with lustful thoughts. You rolled your body just slightly against him, but he felt every second of it, his hands sliding lower until he was kneading the flesh of your ass. Breathless, you paused, forehead against, another roll of your body as you pressed into him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He breathed, chest rising and falling with heavy pants.

“No, don’t, I’ve wanted this for so long,” it came out more desperate than you planned, but you didn’t care, you needed him to know.

“Me too, kid, you have no idea,” he smiled.

Your nose scrunched, pulling back to look at him with narrow eyes, “kid? Really?”

“Well you don’t like when I call you baby, so…”

“That is not what I said,” you laughed, “I said don’t say things you don’t mean. You can call me whatever you want, as long as you mean it”

“In that case…” he leaned in again, hands on either side of your face as his lips met yours before pulling away to meet your eyes as he said, “hey baby.”

You melted into him, his hands cradling your head the only thing keeping you grounded to the planet. He littered your face and jaw with slow, deliberate kisses, working his way toward your neck as he whispered more sweet pet names into your skin.

“Beautiful,” with a kiss to your jaw, “angel,” with a kiss to your neck, just below your ear, “my girl,” with a kiss to your collarbone, lingering to suck on the skin right at the base of your neck, marking you lightly.

Your whole body pulled him in tighter, dizzy with the ecstasy of having him like this. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just hard enough to tell him how good he was making you feel. You couldn’t resist but push down into his hardness, muscles tense as his lips tickled the sensitive skin around the collar of your shirt.

“Rafe…” you sighed out as he continued to suck lip shaped marks into you, his hands kneading your ass, arms strong around you like he alone was the one keeping you tethered to the earth.

He pulled away from you just far enough to look you in the eyes, his pupils blown out. There was a kind of darkness in his eyes, sending excitement, and maybe even a touch of fear, shooting through your body. You wondered what would happen if he dropped the gentleness and really seized control, longing to be the one to send him to that place.

“Are you?” He whispered. Hunger, lust, and some more vulnerable third thing laced the deep tenor of his voice as his eyes searched yours, “are you my girl?”

His brows were furrowed so tight with intensity, you worried he was gonna give himself a headache. 

You ran your thumb over the scrunched skin on his forehead, smoothing it out, gentle but firm. You continued to run your fingers over his face, both to put him at ease and to buy yourself time, the answer to his question stuck somewhere in your chest, unwilling or unable to make its way to your tongue.

“I…” you started, the worry growing back on his face at the sound of your hesitation.

Before you could finish the thought, a loud DING! rang out through the quiet car, making you both jump.

“I thought you said your phone was dead?” You questioned, more edge to your tone than you’d meant, frustration over the interruption seeping into your words.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just wanted more time with you.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a bit non-committal in your forgiveness. “Who is it?”

Rafe sighed as he retrieved his phone from the cupholder, reading the most recent message.

“It’s Top,” he answered, “he’s saying we should get back to the house but won’t say why. So dramatic.”

You chuckled softly, relief washing through Rafe at the return of your smile.

“We should probably go then,” you said, “if for no other reason than I’m nosy and want to know what’s going on.”

He nodded slowly, hands reluctantly letting you go “we’ll come back to this, though, right?”

You knew he meant more than just the kiss and your intimate position in Carter’s front seat. He meant this; the big ‘What Are We?’

Never in a million years would you have guessed that he’d be the one posing the question, or that you’d have this hard of a time coming up with the answer.

(to be continued)

a/n: entering my 'posting what's ready when it's ready and not caring about word count' era, welcome!!

please note, i've closed the taglist for this story. to be first to know when i post please follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifications 💘

[sexilene]

sexilene's kinktober 2024!!! ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡。

(i like to post my works sporadically so i'm sorry if i don't post the fics in perfect order! but i do promise i'll write them all before oct. 31!)

-if you would like to request one of the obx boys for an empty prompt go ahead!!! (the pink x)

৻ꪆ 01 - 80s!slasher!jj - phone sex

৻ꪆ 02 - john b - virginity

৻ꪆ 03 - jj - cockwarming

৻ꪆ 04 - 2000s!jock!rafe cameron - pussy eating + semi public sex

৻ꪆ 05 - toxic!exbf!john b - spanking + jealous sex

৻ꪆ 06 - rafe - fingering + cum eating

৻ꪆ 07 - buzzcut!rafe - spitting

৻ꪆ 08 - john b - size kink

৻ꪆ 09 - boynextdoor!jj - sex tape

৻ꪆ 10 - ghostface duo john b & jj - double penetration + knife play

৻ꪆ 11 - rafe - fear play + hunting you

৻ꪆ 12 - jj - beach sex

৻ꪆ 13 - stalker!john b - noncon + creampie

৻ꪆ 14 - perv!rafe - panties

৻ꪆ 15 - john b - slapping

৻ꪆ 16 - historyprofesser!john b - daddy kink

৻ꪆ 17 - jj & rafe - threesome

৻ꪆ 18 - pope - dry humping

৻ꪆ 19 - boynextdoor!jj - choking

৻ꪆ 20 - soft!dark!jj - baby trapping

৻ꪆ 21 - boynextdoor!jj - outdoor sex

৻ꪆ 22 - lumberjack!john b - facesitting + beard burn

৻ꪆ 23 - boynextdoor!jj - corruption + praise

৻ꪆ 24 - rafe - lazy kisses (non-sexual!)

৻ꪆ 25 - softdark!60s!jj - taking dirty pictures + branding

(i will be adding more as we get closer to october lol)

xoxo!

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part2

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: mentioning fighting, mentioning abortion, pregnancy symptoms, kind of depression, mentioning alcohol and drugs

previous - next

Sometimes, the reason we go through certain things is simply that we don’t care about the consequences of our actions or decisions. You didn’t think it through, didn’t realize. Calling it a 'youthful mistake' would have been foolish—especially when the mistake is this big.

You took a risk. You both did, as if it were just a game. The harshest blow was realizing that, because you were the ones who did it. You threw caution to the wind and made every reckless choice possible.

But now, it wasn’t about a fleeting pleasure. It was the baby growing inside you. That was the reality staring you in the face. Hard to believe, but you were pregnant.

You were aware that your whole life was about to change. You didn’t know if it would be for the better or worse. You’d never seriously thought about the idea of starting a family before. Being a mother at 20 wasn’t part of the plan. Building a family, raising a child…

You’d never considered that kind of responsibility. More than that, you didn’t even know if you were ready for it.

The morning sickness was hitting harder each day. You’d lost your appetite. You didn’t even want to drink water.

It had only been a few days since you got the positive test result. The moment you saw the double lines, you ran out and bought a few more tests. It was hard to believe. You clung to the hope that it was a mistake. You wanted to believe that. The idea of it being real frightened you more than you thought it would.

The thought always made you anxious, yet somewhere deep down, you convinced yourself you weren’t pregnant, thought it was just some illness. Maybe food poisoning, maybe something else, but not pregnancy.

It couldn’t be. Experiencing something like this at 20 was too much to handle. You grew up in a well-off family; you were always part of the Figure Eight, but that didn’t ease your worries.

Not having financial worries didn’t mean you weren’t afraid of your family’s reaction. Who would accept their 20-year-old daughter being pregnant outside of marriage?

You couldn’t even imagine how you’d react as a parent. This was reckless. What you did wasn’t something most people would do. Just because you like walking on the edge, does that mean you have to? Would you jump into the ocean, knowing you’d drown?

But you did.

Even though you hadn’t been careful, you took Plan B. But which day did you skip it? You couldn’t remember.

You didn’t know if it was you or Rafe who forgot to be cautious.

It didn’t matter anymore. Three out of four tests had been positive. You were carrying his child. You were pregnant, and worse, you felt utterly helpless.

One of the hardest things about living in the Figure Eight was not knowing who was real and who was fake. You had no one to share this with, no one who could help or support you. Except Rafe.

He was your only reality. Your boyfriend, your confidant, the person who understood you best. You were like two halves of a whole. You didn’t deny that he had a dark side, but with you, he was different. It was as if he allowed you to see the real Rafe, let you in.

The peace you felt when thinking of him turned to unease the moment you realized you were carrying his child. The man who once brought a smile to your face now filled you with anxiety because you didn’t know how he’d react.

You had no idea how to tell him. Not just him, but also your family. Even if you couldn’t imagine Rafe’s reaction, you knew you’d be the biggest disappointment in your family’s eyes.

You didn’t want anyone to see those tests. You couldn’t risk anyone finding out before you told them. You thought about throwing them away, burning them—anything to get rid of them. But they’d find them. You could hide them, but eventually, someone would see.

You were losing your mind. The thought of someone finding out was driving you to paranoia. You tried to think of the safest way.

That’s why, when evening came, you didn’t hesitate to toss the pregnancy tests into the ocean. Your worry was turning into paranoia. You started thinking you looked pregnant, that it was obvious when you looked in the mirror. But it wasn’t. Maybe you were only a month or two along, and that wasn’t possible. No one could tell you were pregnant. But whenever your mom looked at you, you panicked, as though she’d somehow know. Instead, they thought you’d started using drugs.

Your behavior had changed; you looked and acted different, both physically and mentally. They were worried about you.

And you knew it. You noticed, but worse, you were scared for yourself. You were afraid of what the future would bring, afraid of people’s reactions.

Days had passed since you took the tests, and without realizing it, you’d shut yourself off from the world. You hadn’t meant to, but you were terrified that someone might see you and guess the truth. But they couldn’t know—you were just being paranoid.

When it came to handling crises, you were probably one of the worst people alive. In moments of crisis, your biggest fears came to the surface. No one would say you had leadership qualities. You were obviously terrible at managing situations. Maybe you should have learned how to handle this, worked on it—but you never did.

And of course, it affected your life negatively, as it was now. Your communication with Rafe had dwindled. Every time you were with him, you worried you’d let something slip. You were on the verge of tears all the time. You were afraid he’d notice, afraid he’d think something was wrong with you.

You’d pushed him away, which was one of the biggest mistakes you’d ever made.

You had no idea how many times he texted you, how many times he called. You hadn’t counted. In two week, you’d met only twice, and even then, it was brief. He wasn’t just worried about you; he was worried about your relationship.

He thought you wanted to break up with him, thought you were losing interest. At first, this thought made him sad, but now it was making him angry. He was starting to take his frustration out on everyone around him. The idea of you breaking up with him haunted him every time he couldn’t see or reach you, and it made him furious.

He was exhausted from trying to reach a compromise. He started to think you didn’t even want to make things work. He thought you were ghosting him, slowly pulling away. In some ways, he was right, but the person you wanted to distance yourself from was never him. It was what you had to do that you wanted to avoid. You didn’t know how he’d react if you told him. On top of that, you felt ashamed. Because you were the one who put yourself in this situation. You did this to yourself. You should never have played that risky game in the first place.

You weren’t looking for someone to blame, of course. This was something you both shared. It was a thrill you both enjoyed. And now, here was the result, inside you.

You knew you shouldn’t have shut him out, that you should have told him the moment you found out, but you couldn’t. You were scared, and it consumed every part of your life and social life…

You just needed a little more time. Just a bit more. You needed a few more days to process this. Then you’d tell Rafe, and after that, your family.

But when had fate ever been on your side? When had it ever smiled upon you?

The way you were shutting Rafe out was driving him crazy. Ghosting him weighed on him so heavily that he was about to lose his mind. You were the one he relaxed around, the one who brought him peace… so why were you pushing him away?

He couldn’t understand. He turned to drinking more, got into fights. He even asked Topper for advice. But he waited. He waited for you to come to him, for you to explain. Maybe he thought you’d heard bad news at a family breakfast. His mind went to such extremes that he even wondered if your family had asked you to marry someone for a business merger. But still, he held back. He gave himself and you time, waiting for you to choose him again.

But you never came.

He texted, called. You left him in limbo with single-word replies. Every day, he checked your Instagram stories, looking for any sign, just a hint of how you were doing, what you were up to. He went around to all your favorite places, hoping to see you, but you were nowhere to be found. He thought you were avoiding him like he was a plague.

After two weeks, he couldn’t hold back anymore. Not any longer. Rafe had always been intense, quick-tempered. Everyone knew he had anger issues. You knew, too. But even so, he held back. He stopped and waited for you.

But when you didn’t go to him, he decided to come to you.

It was a split-second decision. He didn’t think much about the consequences. He didn’t care if your family was home. All he wanted was to hear from you what was going on, to know why you’d been ghosting him.

As he got into his car and drove toward your house, he didn’t send you a text or give you a call like he usually did. You didn’t think anything of it. You didn’t expect anything bad, but somehow, that feeling in your chest hinted that today would be a rough day.

You woke up and had breakfast. When your family left, you went from your room to the living room, wrapped yourself in your favorite blanket, and put on one of your favorite shows. But even though your eyes were on the screen, you weren’t watching. Your mind was elsewhere. You were so panicked that you were terrified someone might find the pregnancy test—even though, even if they did, they wouldn’t know it was yours.

You planned to spend the whole day in the living room. That was your plan. But even if it was your plan, God seemed to have different plans for you.

You realized this the moment the door was pounded on, echoing through the house. You didn’t know what was happening, but your gut was already screaming that it was Rafe. Your heartbeat sped up. Was it the strength of your intuition or a consequence of something else you’d done? You weren’t sure, but you knew the person outside was Rafe Cameron.

What were you supposed to say? What kind of lie could you tell?

You had nothing but the truth.

With your heart pounding, you gently pushed the blanket off yourself. The pounding on the door didn’t slow. Even though you had a feeling it was Rafe, the moment you heard him shouting your name from outside, you were certain.

Trying to steady your trembling hands, you held onto something for balance as you got up. Your legs were shaking. You didn’t feel ready to talk, but then again, how could anyone be ready for something like this?

He was angry; you knew it. If you’d been in his position, you might have been even angrier. You two were in a relationship, and what you’d done was foolish, plain and simple.

As you walked to the door, you tried to control your breathing, which had become erratic. Your heartbeat seemed to speed up even more, as impossible as that seemed. You made it to the door, and after taking one last breath, you opened it. After days apart, you finally saw him again. When your eyes met, you exhaled involuntarily. He wasn’t looking at you the way he used to. There was no tenderness; he was angry. His hair was disheveled, dark circles framed his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled, and he looked like he hadn’t eaten properly in days. His brow was furrowed. You couldn’t even begin to guess how furious he was. His knuckles and cheekbones were bruised and scabbed over, and even though you didn’t know what happened, you could tell he’d been in a fight.

But even as his eyes met yours, he couldn’t find words. It was as if he was at a loss. What would he even say? Would he ask, 'Why?' On his way to your house, he hadn’t even considered what you might talk about. He hadn’t thought about what you might explain to him. All he wanted was you. The happiness you’d once had.

His lips didn’t part. His gaze swept over you. You knew you didn’t look well. You hadn’t really taken care of yourself. You’d spent days lying in bed, only leaving your room when absolutely necessary. You hadn’t even slept well. Your mind had been tormented, torn between terminating the pregnancy and having the baby. Nights were sleepless, and when you did sleep, you were plagued by nightmares. You’d been in pain, in a way, but you didn’t want anyone to see it.

Rafe raised his hand to his head and closed his eyes, trying to hold himself together. He could tell you weren’t in great shape, and as he looked at you with those anxious, pained eyes, he realized he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. He took a deep breath before speaking, and it didn’t seem like he was struggling to find words. He’d never been one to hold back his thoughts; he always said whatever came to mind. But he wanted to control himself, didn’t want to take this approach with you.

“Can I come in?” His voice wasn’t exactly asking. He was going to come in regardless. He just thought he’d be polite. After all, this wasn’t a breakup; it was just that things weren’t going well between you.

The coldness in his voice unsettled you, but you nodded and stepped back. You didn’t feel like you could say anything. How could you look him in the eyes, let alone offer an excuse? Or would you just blurt out, 'I’m pregnant'? What would you even do?

You were sinking deeper and deeper into this mess.

Without waiting for you, Rafe walked into the living room. He knew where everything was; it wasn’t his first time here. The chill between you two as he walked through the room stung. Every corner held a memory. It wasn’t just about sex—even though those were his favorite moments with you. It was also the laughter you shared, the first time you cooked for him in your kitchen, the moments sitting on the balcony, talking and watching the ocean… It was as if every memory was flashing before his eyes. He didn’t want to lose you, but he also needed to understand why you were acting this way.

He heard your footsteps behind him as he stopped in front of the sliding door, staring outside, trying to figure out what to say.

Thoughts of talking to Topper and Kelce flashed through Rafe’s mind, but he quickly pushed them away. The memory of Kelce’s insinuation—that you might have someone else—only fueled his anger. It wasn’t that he believed the idea; he knew you weren’t that type of person. No matter what happened between you, he respected you and was sure you’d never do such a thing. The fact that a so-called friend would casually accuse you like that only made him more uneasy.

You watched him in silence. It was clear he wasn’t going to speak first. You couldn’t tell if he was simply angry with you or if there was something more—perhaps hurt. It was hard to read him, especially when he didn’t want to be read. Rafe Cameron was good at hiding his emotions, and while he was generally open with you, now you couldn’t understand him.

When you realized he wasn’t going to say anything, you stepped forward and started to speak, only to find yourself lost for words. Your gaze drifted over Rafe, finally settling on his hands. You were worried, but truthfully, his injuries were just an excuse to break the silence.

“Your hands…” you murmured, your voice trembling. “Are you okay?”

Hearing your voice after so many days made him almost forget to breathe. He hated that you were his weakness—hated it with every fiber of his being. But his curiosity and anger hadn’t faded. Even if he hated it, his love for you outweighed his frustration.

As he slowly turned around, he looked down at his bruised knuckles, examining them. He’d lost his temper with Kelce for the things he’d said about you, but he didn’t consider it important enough to mention. He thought about responding, but he hadn’t come here to answer questions—he was here for answers.

If you were going to leave him, he’d rather hear it from your lips than be ghosted like some fling.

“Where were you?” he asked, ignoring your question. It didn’t matter to him anyway. He raised his head, watching you intently. He wanted to understand why you were acting this way, why you’d left him so confused that he’d started doubting himself—wondering if he’d done something to hurt you. Running a hand through his hair, he kept his gaze on you, demanding an answer.

“Home,” you finally managed. For a moment, he thought you were joking. You’d been home all this time? You’d had every opportunity to call or text him, yet you’d chosen to ignore him?

Rafe let out a bitter laugh, glancing around the room. He was afraid of what he might yell if he kept looking at you, and he didn’t want to become that person.

You leaned on the couch to steady yourself. It wasn’t the pregnancy making you feel unwell; it was the guilt eating away at you, making you feel like a terrible person. You didn’t want to cry or make him feel worse. You should’ve told him right away when you found out.

Biting your lip to hold back tears, you struggled to keep your emotions in check. Even if you weren’t ready to tell him, he deserved to know. But the words felt sealed inside, as if they’d made a pact never to leave your lips.

As you lowered your head, you heard him say your name. Clearly, he was struggling to keep calm. He started pacing, his voice trembling with anger. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” His gaze remained fixed on you, his movements tense as he continued.

“Look,” he began, trying to lower his voice. He was choosing his words carefully, but it didn’t help calm your racing heart. “I don’t know what happened that day, but clearly—clearly something happened that drove you away from me. I need to know. Do you understand?”

Could you tell him? You were terrified of his reaction. But maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you feared.

He called your name again as you looked away, his voice filled with an almost desperate edge. He clenched his fists, his eyes narrowed, watching you as he took a step closer. When he finally stood in front of you, your breath caught, your throat tight with the urge to cry.

He lifted your chin, bringing your gaze level with his, his brows softening with a hint of sympathy. His hands threaded through your hair, his eyes never leaving yours. But looking back at him was nearly impossible; tears pooled in your eyes as you bit your lip, struggling to hold back.

“If you’re going to break up with me—” he started, and you shook your head, biting your lip harder. Breaking up had never crossed your mind.

Without the answer he wanted, he closed his eyes, pulling his hands away as he stepped back, trying to make sense of it all. “Then what!” he yelled, his patience snapping. He needed to know what was going on with you—why you’d been ignoring him for two weeks, why you hadn’t called or texted. Each shout made you flinch; you weren’t used to him raising his voice.

He turned, muttering, “I’m going to lose my fucking mind!” You took a step back as he kicked the couch in frustration, hands in his hair as he stared out the window.

He kicked the couch again, letting out a strangled cry. “Fuck!” He was breathing hard, and it was the first time you’d seen him this upset. He usually kept his cool.

“Please, don’t…” you spoke in a shaky voice. The tears were threatening to fall, and his anger scared you—not for yourself but for him.

He turned back to you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to steady his breathing. “What’s going on with you?” he pressed, his voice thick with tension. “I’m right here! Just talk to me.”

But you remained silent, your gaze dropping as you bit your lip harder. Finally, his patience wore thin. "Fuck! You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to disappear, and then act like it’s no big deal—like I’m supposed to just… what, wait around for you? I can’t—”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words slipped from your lips. You didn’t need to look up to know that they’d stunned him. His whole demeanor changed. His expression froze, his eyes widened, and then hardened into something unreadable. He ran a hand over his face as though he could erase what he’d heard.

“Pregnant?” he repeated, his voice flat, as if testing the word on his tongue. His gaze lingered on you, filled with shock, confusion, and something deeper that tugged at his heart. He couldn’t believe it, but he knew it was possible. There’d been times when the two of you had walked a fine line, but he’d thought you’d always been careful.

When you finally met his gaze, his anger seemed to dissipate. He looked at you, searching for the truth in your face. You sniffled, nodding as your eyes filled with tears. He stared at you, each second of silence amplifying his heartbeat. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet and laced with shock.

“I thought… I thought you were on the pill?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I don’t know when it happened. Maybe when we were drunk… or—I don’t know.” You felt as if you were standing on the edge of a cliff, a wave of vulnerability washing over you. You waited for anything—a word, reassurance, even anger—but Rafe’s response was none of those.

Rafe looked down, running his fingers through his hair as he exhaled slowly. When he finally looked up again, his expression softened, revealing something unexpected: a rawness, almost painfully vulnerable. “I… never thought about it…” He shook his head slightly, pausing to search for the right words. He ran his hand through his hair and avoided eye contact, looking around instead. “I… care about you. You know that. But… I don’t know if I can do this. I mean, I’m not ready to be a dad. Not now. Maybe not ever.” His voice was low and hesitant, as though he still couldn’t quite believe the situation.

Your gaze dropped, and you couldn’t look at him. He wasn’t looking at you either. The problem was, you really loved him. Deep down, you’d cherished the thought of a family with him, even though you knew he’d reject it. You weren’t sure if you were ready to be a mother, but the thought filled you with peace. You had expected a negative reaction from him, and deep down, a part of you had hoped he would accept this baby.

“I know it’s unexpected, but—” you began, finally looking up at him.

Rafe cut you off, his voice low and uncertain. “Look, I love you, okay? I love what we have. I don’t want anything to change.” His eyes flashed with a glimmer of desperation. “We don’t have to do this. There are options.”

His words pierced your heart. “Options?” you repeated, your voice barely louder than a whisper. The meaning of his words sank in, heavy and cold. You had considered this too, but hearing it from someone else, especially him, made your chest feel weighted down. He’d voiced something you hadn’t even dared to say aloud.

Rafe didn’t avert his gaze, running his hand through his hair with his shoulders tense. “I just don’t think we’re ready. I’m not ready.” He looked at you. You could see the fear and resistance in his eyes. “This could ruin everything we have… everything we’ve built. I just thought… maybe we could handle it, so things could go back to normal.”

You took a shaky step back, your legs trembling. His words weighed heavily on your chest, making you feel like you were shattering, piece by piece. “You think we can just ‘handle it’ and everything will be fine?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The pain in your chest was unbearable, and your heart pounded with the weight of it.

Rafe reached out to you in a few strides, his hand extended. You flinched and pulled back. “Please, try to understand,” he pleaded. “I love you. I want you, just you. Not this… not this.”

Tears stung your eyes, your voice barely a whisper. “I… don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I want this… You—” You cut yourself off. You didn’t know what to say. Neither of you knew how to be parents, but what if you wanted to keep it? What if you didn’t want an abortion—what would he do then?

Rafe let out a deep breath, frustration growing in his eyes. He was searching within himself for options. He didn’t want this to happen; he didn’t want to lose you, but a baby? He couldn’t do this. “I don’t know how to be that person, okay? I don’t know how to be a dad. I can barely take care of myself.” He looked at you sincerely, his face full of pain. “But I know I can’t do this.” He searched for a sign of agreement, a supportive expression on your face. He wanted to see something positive that would keep your relationship intact, but all he found was disappointment.

Rafe was right in some ways. But you didn’t know how to be a mother either. You could learn together—why was he shutting it down? You pulled back your tears, swallowed the pain in your throat, and steadied yourself before looking Rafe in the eyes. “So… if I decide to keep it? What then? Do you want me to do this alone?” The truth hit Rafe like a punch, knocking the breath out of him. He had assumed you would agree, that you would choose him. He hadn’t even considered this possibility. “After everything, are you just… going to leave?”

The silence that followed was deafening, and though Rafe hadn’t said it out loud, his answer hung in the air. He dropped his gaze, and deep down, he knew he’d made his choice. He didn’t have the time for a baby. He wasn’t ready to be a father. He was certainly not ready for such a responsibility. This was something he imagined happening far into the future, maybe in his thirties—but definitely not at twenty-two.

You knew his answer. You understood. You took a few steps back, creating distance between you as you drew a shaky breath, your voice barely holding together. “I can’t believe I trusted you. I thought that—” The words caught in your throat. You couldn’t pull yourself together, feeling on the verge of breaking down.

Rafe’s eyes shone with pain, but he said nothing; his silence spoke louder than any words he could have offered.

You wiped away your tears, and with every passing second, your heart broke a little more. “I guess I was wrong.” Your voice trembled, full of a sadness you couldn’t hide.

Rafe assumed that the conversation was over and the decisions had been made. There was nothing left to say. He had his answer, but he didn’t feel any relief. He couldn’t look at you. What he wanted was certain, clear, and final. He turned and walked away, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He didn’t look back, didn’t expect you to stop him because he knew you wouldn’t. He hadn’t wanted the relationship to end. He loved you, but even that love couldn’t overcome a responsibility like this.

Leaving you alone and helpless in your home, he walked toward his car. He didn’t want one last look. If he looked, he might regret the impact of his choice on you, but this was it. He wasn’t ready and never would be. Even being able to handle a serious relationship was a big step for him, but the idea of a child? He couldn’t accept it. Getting in his car, he hoped that one day you would understand.

Top

Hey. Golf?

[xoxoch3rry]

𝔻𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

Word count: 1,229

────

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Warnings: Possessiveness, Jealousy

Summary: Rafe struggles with jealousy at a party, but after a heated confrontation, he learns to trust his girlfriend's commitment to him.

────⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆˖ ࣪⊹────

The warm summer air was heavy with the scent of salt and sunscreen as you leaned against the balcony railing of Tannyhill, gazing out at the marshland. The party below was loud—laughter and music mixing with the occasional splash from the pool. But you weren’t in the mood for mingling tonight. Something about being surrounded by Kooks, their sharp gazes and constant whispers, made you feel like you didn’t quite belong.

Still, you were here—for Rafe.

“Been lookin’ for you,” his voice cut through the humid stillness, low and edged with that mix of charm and something darker.

You turned to find Rafe leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, the dim light from the hallway catching on his sharp features. He was in a white button-up, the top few buttons undone, paired with his usual khakis. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it all night.

“I just needed some air,” you said softly, giving him a small smile. “It’s a little too much down there.”

Rafe’s piercing blue eyes narrowed slightly as he stepped onto the balcony. He moved with an easy confidence, but there was tension in his jaw—something simmering just beneath the surface.

“Too much?” he echoed, tilting his head. “Or is it someone?”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Saw you talking to Kelce earlier.”

Oh. That’s what this was about.

“Rafe,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “He just wanted to know where the drinks were. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeated, his voice tightening. He stepped closer, towering over you now. The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around you, grounding and suffocating all at once. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

“Maybe he couldn’t, but that’s not my problem,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t control where people look.”

His hand reached out, brushing your arm lightly before gripping your wrist—not hard, but firm enough to make his point. “You can’t control that, no. But you can control how close you let them get.”

Your breath hitched as his eyes bore into yours, the possessiveness in them unmistakable. It wasn’t the first time Rafe had been like this. He had a way of staking his claim on you that was both thrilling and unnerving. You’d told yourself you could handle it, that his intensity was just part of who he was. But sometimes… it was a lot.

“I didn’t let him get close,” you said, your voice softening. “I swear, Rafe. You’re the only one I’m here for.”

His grip loosened, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Good,” he murmured, stepping even closer. His free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “Because I don’t like sharing.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. It should’ve annoyed you, should’ve made you push him away. But instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, drawn to the intensity of his emotions.

“You don’t have to share,” you whispered, your heart pounding. “I’m yours.”

Something in his eyes flickered at your words, a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, darker. “Damn right, you are.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he needed to feel every part of you to believe you were truly his. The kiss was heated, possessive, and entirely Rafe.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless. He rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and rough. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before the sound of laughter drifted up from below. Rafe stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over the railing. You followed his gaze and spotted Kelce standing near the pool, a drink in hand. He wasn’t looking up at you, but that didn’t seem to matter to Rafe.

“I don’t like him being here,” Rafe muttered, his jaw clenching. “Thinks he can come to my house, look at my girl…”

“Rafe, stop,” you said, placing a hand on his chest. His heart was racing under your palm. “It’s not worth it. Let it go.”

But you knew Rafe too well to think he’d actually listen. He stepped back, his hand dropping from your waist as his gaze darkened. “Stay here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Rafe, don’t—”

“Stay. Here.”

And just like that, he was gone, striding back inside before you could stop him. You leaned against the railing, frustration bubbling up in your chest. This was exactly what you’d been afraid of. Rafe’s temper was like a storm—unpredictable and destructive. You loved him, but sometimes it felt like you were trying to hold back the tide.

Minutes later, the sound of shouting drew your attention back to the party. Your stomach dropped as you spotted Rafe and Kelce near the pool, their voices carrying over the music. Rafe was in Kelce’s face, his fists clenched at his sides.

Without thinking, you hurried downstairs, weaving through the crowd. By the time you reached them, Rafe had grabbed Kelce by the collar, his face inches from the other boy’s.

“She’s not yours to look at,” Rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Got it?”

“Rafe, stop!” you said, pushing your way between them. You placed your hands on his chest, trying to create some distance. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

His eyes snapped to yours, still burning with anger. For a moment, you weren’t sure he’d listen. But then he let go of Kelce, shoving him backward with a sneer.

“Get out of here,” Rafe spat. “Before I change my mind.”

Kelce didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled away, disappearing into the crowd. You turned back to Rafe, your own anger flaring now.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded. “You can’t just start fights every time you think someone looks at me wrong!”

“I’m not gonna stand there and let some loser disrespect you,” he shot back, his tone defensive.

“Disrespect me? Or disrespect you?”

The question hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Look,” he said, his voice softer now. “I know I get carried away sometimes. But I can’t help it, okay? You mean everything to me. And the thought of someone else trying to take you…”

“No one’s taking me,” you said firmly, grabbing his hand. “But you have to trust me, Rafe. I’m not going anywhere.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I just… I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to,” you whispered, your anger fading as you felt the sincerity in his words. “But you need to trust that.”

Rafe nodded, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I’ll try,” he promised. “But you’re mine, okay? No one else gets to have you.”

You smiled faintly, resting your head against his chest. “I’ve always been yours.”

And with that, the storm passed—for now.

[pradabambie]

me instead - rafe x topper'sgf!reader

m'backkkk!!! lmk if you liked this <3

when topper thorton approached you at the country club and asked you out, you though nothing of it.

a couple of random kooks always came up to you, wanting to buy you a drink or take you out on a date, so you were used to it.

but after the dinner went well, you started thinking that maybe it was time to leave behind your current dating habits - which consisted mainly in pogues with a bad boy complex - and settle down with a nice kook boy. at least for a little while.

as soon as you two made your first public appearance the news spread around the island quickly.

obviously, you were one of the hottest girls on the obx and everyone felt the need to be updated on your dating life.

top's friends heard and the teasing started short after.

but he couldn't help to get a little worried about rafe's reaction. he remembered the episode that happened a couple months ago

you were laying on the lounge chair, the sun reflecting on the pool and showering your body in golden light.

the three boys were standing besides the bar at the country club, getting a clear view of your barely clothed body, their minds filled with obscene thoughts at the sight of you.

"bro i think you're drooling a bit" kelce teased and then laughed at rafe, who had been staring at you intensely and not making any effort at hiding it.

"she's really fucking hot, huh?" topper added as he scaned your figure with his eyes, your attention focused on your book, not realizing the intrusive eyes that were laid on you.

"she's mine." rafe said nonchalantly as he took another sip of his beer.

his friends rolled their eyes and laughed at the comment, they were used to rafe trying to call dibs on everything. little did they know he was serious this time.

but you were simply too gorgeous for topper to care about that.

he didn't expect that you would agree so easily when he first asked you out, and ever since then he wouldn't miss a chance to show you off, even if you hadn't been on that many dates, he invited you everywhere and introduced you to everyone, except rafe, of course.

but he couldn't avoid him forever.

a big kook party was happening tonight, and you asked top to go with you, after all of your girlfriends cancelled and you didn't feel like having another night in.

and he couldn't ever say no to you, so there he was picking you up short after, driving you both to the huge house filled with the same old kooks, some random tourists and a couple lost pogues.

as soon as you walked in all eyes landed on you, and the tiny white dress you were wearing, but you were always too oblivious and in your own little bubble to even notice the lingering looks that every guy there gave you as you walked past them, and the irritated ones that came from the girls.

top guided you to the back, where his friends stood, occupied by their drinks and other substances so they took a little while to notice your arrival.

you said hi to a couple boys topper had previously introduced you to, but then you saw one you didn't recognize.

he was wearing a white shirt that was a little tight around his big arms, and some kooky ass beige shorts.

top couldn't hide his nervous expression as he tapped rafe on his shoulder "come say hi to my girl, bro"

rafe turned around and his eyes landed automatically on you, scanning your whole body shamelessly before stopping on your face

"your girl, huh?" he cuestioned as he took a sip of his drink, giving top a look your couldn't quite figure out

topper had already moved on to greet the next person so you introduced yourself

"yes hi, I'm y/n, top's girlfriend" you said flashing a perfect smile at him, trying to ignore his intense stare

he checked to see if topper wasn't looking, and then lowered his lips to your ear, sending a goosebump down your spine as he whispered

"nah, your pretty little head must have gotten it wrong" you swallowed the bump on your throat "you're supposed to be here with me"

he quickly stood straight again, as topper came back and placed a kiss on your -now flushed- cheek.

[pixiexdusts-world]

Incorrect Quote

Topper, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe?

Y/n: Yeah, sure.

*A few minutes later*

Y/n: Here you go.

Topper:

Y/n:

Rafe: Why am I here?

[drewsephrry]

Drew Starkey and Austin North in OBX 4

[tetragonia]

[jj-maybanks-daughter]

workout

little 2 year old, y/n walked into the home gym, seeing her dad, rafe and uncles topper and kelce working out, and she decided to join them

warnings- just fluff 🤍

y/n waddled through the hallway, noticing a never before opened door, open. rafe kept the door shut so his daughter couldnt get into the equipment and hurt herself. 

her curiosity took over and she slid through the cracked door. she giggled at her dads red face as he lifted a dumbbell up to his armpits. kelce looked over to see her. “uhhh- rafe?” he questioned

“can’t you see i’m doing something?” he asked, putting down the dumbbell. “what do you wa-“ he quickly cut himself off seeing    y/n sitting on the floor clapping her hands. “oh hi baby? what are you doing here?” he cooed to her as he picked her up. 

“ew, sweaty” she said with a look of disgust. topper and kelce laughed and rafe sat her back down. she waddled over to the treadmill, sitting down on it. 

“your so silly.” rafe chuckled as he followed behind her, his arms out in case she fell. 

“uncle top!” she said, pointing to topper in the middle of his bench set. topper couldn’t help but giggle and set the bench back up. 

“you like the gym, y/n/n?” he laughed, wiping his sweat with a sweat towel. she got up off the treadmill and ran to topper holding her arms up for him to hold her. he picked her up and showed her the bar. 

“you know guys? we could start baby training now.” rafe chuckled. the other boys knew there was no way of stopping rafe as he picked back up y/n and had her hold onto the pull up bar. rafe had it made so he could adjust the height, so he moved it down to the lowest level first. “hold on, baby.” he smiled, still holding her. 

she shrieked in happiness and rafe decided to carry her less and less to the point where she was practically doing it herself! 

“this is awesome dude!” rafe celebrated, proud of his daughter. the other boys just laughed and stood there watching. 

“hold on dude, i’ll be right back.” topper said as he ran out of the room, across the street to his house. 

he came back with one pound weights, pink of course. 

“look at that y/n” kelce started, “it’s what uncle top uses at home!” topper just glared at kelce and handed the weights to rafe as she hopped off the bar. 

“you think you can do it, babe?” rafe asked her, squatting and talking to her like she was in a boxing match.

“yes!” she answered, clapping her hands. she reached out grabby hands to the pink weights and held them, happily. 

“look at that! your so strong aren’t you?” rafe laughed. 

the boys continued to train y/n as she grew up. she was easily the strongest, not only girl, but kid in her class throughout her days in school, all thanks to her dad, uncle top, and uncle kelce.

[papercranesandinkstains]

Kildare University- Sophomore Year: 7

Synopsis: A Social Media AU in which you find yourself at Kildare University along with your friends. Starting over at a new school shouldn't be difficult. Well, except for the fact that your ex-boyfriend is the quarterback, and you are the drum major. Add in a little bit of drama, a lot of friendship, an ex who can't seem to let you go, and a best friend who has been in love with you since you were kids and well? Welcome to KU!

Pairings: Past!Rafe x Reader, JJ x Reader, Rafe x Reader

Masterlist

Taglist:

@akobx @onelonelybitch @the-universe-and-karma @beeskisses @frankoceanluvr11 @ivy-34 @rafecameronsloverrrrr @k-k0129 @asyouwish-fromcabin3 @xoxo-ada @aariahnaa @strawberryforks @urbrunettebombshell @whatisoutside @spenceatiny18

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 7

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 6.7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! non-descriptive mentions of vomit

A swing and a miss, again.

Rafe’s game was all over the place, he hadn’t been able to focus in batting practice all week, and now it was the bottom of the ninth in Academy’s rivalry match against Kildare County. He was down in the count when he asked the ump for a timeout.

He had resisted the urge to look in the stands the whole game, afraid he knew what he would find, or rather, what he wouldn’t.

You usually sat behind the dugout, wearing his old jersey that he’d given you after his record-breaking freshman season, and his number in black eyeliner on either cheek. Sometimes, it would take a few days for it to wash off, and you’d show up to school with the hint of his number still faded on your skin. 

No one - not his coaches, not his teammates, certainly not his father - could read him like you could. Sometimes he’d pop his head out of the dugout between innings so you could tell him his swing was a few seconds too early for the pitcher’s fastball, or that he needed to stop chasing the backdoor slider. You were never wrong.

They’d tease him in the dugout, tossing sunflower seeds at him and taunting, “what is she, your hitting coach or your wife?” Then he’d ignore you for a few innings, though he almost never got on base without checking in with you first.

Your absence from this game was glaring, one of those same teammates taunting, “can someone please get Cameron’s hitting coach on the phone for fuck’s sake?” after his third strikeout.

He’d brushed it off, but now the game was on the line, and he realized he’d endure any amount of teasing if it meant looking up and seeing you in the stands.

He stepped out of the batter’s box, took a deep breath, and craned his neck to your usual seat, hands gripping the bat tighter when his fear was confirmed - it was empty.

He struck out, and they lost the game.

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It’s actually about to happen, the moment you’d wished for on every star, every eyelash, every birthday candle since you were six years old. The moment you never thought would actually come. You’ve played this scene in your mind a million times, what your first kiss with Rafe would be like. None of the many versions took place in an alley behind a Florida nightclub, but none of them were real either, so now was not the time to be picky. 

Rafe’s thumb was still lingering on your bottom lip, the rest of his long fingers caressing your jaw. 

“Can I? Please?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, dimples creasing his cheeks so handsomely, and leaned in. You realized you were holding your breath as you awaited the first brush of his lips against yours.

It never came. The door to the club slammed open, making you both jump. Your already thumping heart flew to your throat as Kelce stumbled out the large metal door.

“Woah, sorry,” he jumped back, smirking at the sight of you and Rafe pulling away from each other quickly.

“What could you possibly need from me right now?” Rafe said, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in warning.

“I came out here to find her,” Kelce pointed at you. “So calm your ass down.”

“What is it, Kelce?” You asked gently, hand on Rafe’s arm to hold him back as he started stepping menacingly toward his friend.

“Something’s wrong with Carter,” Kelce said.

“What?!” Your face flooded with concern, you started toward the club, and Rafe didn’t stop you, knowing the sound of your sister’s name dashed any hope he had of keeping you in this alleyway.

“What happened?” You asked Kelce as you brushed past him back into the crowded club, Rafe following behind the two of you.

“I don’t know, she got into an argument with Top and then she stormed off,” Kelce shouted over the thundering music as he struggled to keep up with you.

You scanned the whole club, but couldn’t find her, just Topper ranting emphatically to Tom in the corner, and Sabrina and Maddie on either side of the bathroom door, trying to talk to someone on the other side.

Kelce and Rafe were lost to the crowd as you beelined toward the bathroom, forcefully pushing angry clubbers out of the way to get there. You didn’t care, you were locked-in on finding your sister.

“Is she in there?” You asked as you approached the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Maddie confirmed, looking worried, and a little queasy. “But she won’t let anyone in.”

“She’s so wasted it’s crazy,” Sabrina added with a hiccuping giggle.

You ignored her lack of concern for your sister and banged loudly on the door.

“Car? It’s me,” you shouted, “you gotta let me in, alright? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

After a moment, and the thought that you’d break this fucking door down if that’s what it took, the handle finally turned. She opened the door just a crack to let you slip through, and closed it back firmly behind you.

Sabrina wasn’t wrong, Carter’s intoxication was written all over her face. Flushed, clammy skin and bloodshot eyes. She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight enough to knock the wind out of you.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You asked nervously.

Before you got an answer, she was on her knees in front of the toilet bowl. You rushed to grab her hair and hold it back, getting it all out of the way with just seconds to spare before she got sick.

Thinking through the day's events, you realized no one had eaten much before you left the house, and you knew this group well enough to know it didn’t take much for them to get hammered. What you didn’t know was that while you were distracted with Rafe, the rest of your group was in the club throwing back drinks and racking up tabs like the world was ending.

Rafe was having a similar realization out on the floor, trying to wrangle everyone to the front door where he had a pair of cabs waiting. He physically dragged Topper away from the bar as he demanded another drink, the bartender shouting that he was cutoff. He led Maddie and Sabrina away from some sketchy looking guys who were inviting them back to their house boat, which they proudly advertised held gallons of their homemade moonshine. He stopped Tom from sucker punching a guy who booed when the DJ played a Drake song. He lost Kelce twice.

Once he had finally corralled everyone into the cars, he convinced the drivers to hold up so he could come back and find you. He stood by the bathroom door until you appeared behind it, jumping at the sight of him standing so close.

“I got cabs waiting,” he yelled over the music, eyeing Carter sprawled out on the dirty bathroom floor behind you.

“I can’t get her up,” you told him defeatedly, eyebrows knit together with worry. “She’s not doing good.”

Rafe brushed past you without a word or a second thought, and leaned down to scoop Carter up with ease, fireman carrying her out of the club like your own personal Superman. You followed closely on his heel, feeling guilty that you were thinking about how strong his shoulders looked and not how concerned you were for your sister. 

You opened the door so he could lower her into the first cab, which only had enough seats left for you and her. Once you slid in behind her, leaning her head against Maddie, who was already dozing off with her forehead pressed on the window, Rafe made sure you were settled before closing the door.

He motioned for you to roll down the window, ducking down so he could lean on it.

“Yo Rafe let’s go man!” Topper yelled from the cab behind you before Rafe could speak.

“Give me a fucking second!” He yelled back.

Forearms against the window sill, he leaned in close enough so only you could hear.

“Just, um, don’t stop thinking what you were thinking in the alley.”

Your lips twisted into a smirk, “couldn’t if I tried.”

He gave you a wink before hurrying back to the other cab.

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You didn’t stop thinking about it. You didn’t stop when the cab driver took the wrong turn and made the trip twice as long as it should’ve been. You didn’t stop when Carter asked the driver to pull over every five minutes so she could hurl on the side of the interstate. You didn’t stop when you finally got Carter up to her room, ranting incoherently about her argument with Topper. You didn’t stop as she kneeled in front of the toilet bowl again and you held her hair back, attempting to soothe her with gentle shushes.

You should’ve been focused on your sister and the awful night she was having, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the shape of Rafe’s mouth.

The thing that finally pulled you from your thoughts of him was a sight you hadn’t seen in almost a decade; Carter started to cry. 

Carter never cried, she was your rock, the shoulder for you and all her friends to cry on. She didn’t cry when she fell off the monkey bars in third grade and broke her arm, or when she was rejected from her dream school, or even when your parents got divorced. But here she was, on the cold tile of the Airbnb bathroom floor, bawling.

“Hey, hey, woah,” you said, alarm ringing in your mind as you rushed to sit beside her on the cold tile floor. “What’s going on?”

“I’m such a mess,” she gasped between sobs.

“Well, for starters we need to get you a makeup wipe,” you countered.

“No I mean, like, emotionally,” she wiped her tears with the backs of her hands, only for a new round of drops to fall and further streak her mascara down her skin.

Your sister spent her life running from difficult emotions. It was something you tried to gently point out to her many times, but she’d typically push it away with a sarcastic joke or just ignore you altogether. 

You started therapy about a month after you got to college, taking the university health center up on its free psych eval offerings for freshmen. You’d shown up to your therapist’s office every Wednesday at 2:30 since then, religious about not missing a session. 

You recommended Carter do the same, but she’d just brush you off with a teasing, “nah I don’t need all that, I’m supposed to be the normal one, remember?”

Taking the hint, you stopped bringing it up after a few months. But now, with Carter’s tears pooling on the floor of this Airbnb, you wished more than ever that she’d listened to you.

“Well, that’s okay,” you gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. “It’s okay not to be okay.”

Carter laid her head on your criss-crossed lap and let the tears fall harder. You rubbed her back and continued to reassure her all was going to be okay, waiting until the tears began to slow and her breathing steadied to broach the subject again.

“Do you want to…” you swallowed, preparing for her to brush you off again, “do you want to talk about it?”

She was quiet for a long moment, you sighed in acceptance that she would pick the ignoring you route this time. 

Then, in a small, feeble voice, she whispered, “it’s too scary.”

“What is?” You whispered back, hand resting on her arm for comfort, praying she wouldn’t get spooked and would keep talking. 

“Loving him,” she confessed.

Your heart nearly burst. You didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.

“Topper, you mean?” you responded.

She nodded slowly, “it was easier when I didn’t love him. I’m supposed to be leaving in a week. I’m supposed to be on to my next big thing, and all I can think about is what the best time to facetime him is if I’m six hours ahead. I should be thinking about me, but all I want is him, and that’s fucking terrifying.”

The thought sent her into another round of sobs, tears soaking the skirt of your dress. 

“I know it feels scary, and new,” you tiptoed to your point, “but…have you ever really not loved him?”

She thought over your words, but the alcohol and drama of the evening was starting to pull her into a restless sleep.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she mumbled, half-asleep already. “So much.”

“Let’s just get you into bed, yeah?” You said, pulling her up off the floor. “We can talk tomorrow.”

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In the darkness of Carter’s room, your phone lit up on the nightstand.

You pulled your arm from under her slowly, praying not to wake her up now that she was finally snoozing peacefully, though her deep snores were occasionally interrupted by shaky breaths, the aftershocks of her sobs. You’d gotten both of you changed and into bed with some difficulty, a strategically placed trash can next to her side of the bed just in case. You reached over to check your phone, turning the brightness down so as not to disturb her.

You had a text from a number that wasn’t saved in your phone, starting with the same 252 area code as yours. You didn’t need to ask “who’s this?” because you’d know that seven digit combination on your deathbed. Deleting his contact from your phone had really been more of a cathartic exercise than anything else.

‘She asleep yet?’ 

‘I think so but it’s been rough, what about Top?’

‘Same, but he’s out like a light now…and snoring like a jet engine.’

You stifled your laugh so Carter wouldn’t hear, keeping your movements slow as you climbed out of her bed and padded towards the door. Wincing at the squeak of the door hinge, you pulled it slowly closed until the handle clicked. 

Down the hall, the same click sounded from Topper’s door. Rafe stood with his hand on the doorknob, listening for any signs that his exit woke the sleeper inside.

His eyes flashed up to meet yours, and you shared a knowing, nervous smile. You each walked a few steps towards the other, Rafe immediately picking up on the water pooling in your eyes. You’d held it together up until now for Carter’s sake, wanting to be strong for her like she’d always been for you, but now the heartbreak of seeing her so upset was finally settling in.

“Hey, hey,” Rafe whispered, lengthening his strides to close the gap between you faster. “What’s wrong?” 

He ducked to search your face for a second, your small sniffles breaking his heart. When a tear slipped from the corner of your eye, he pulled you in by your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You let your arms circle his waist, not taking the time to worry if this was strange or if you were okay being this vulnerable with him, just reveling in the comforting smell of him and the rise and fall of his sturdy chest under his t-shirt.

A few more tears slipped out, but with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while you breathed him in, your sadness faded slowly into a calm reassurance.

“You good?” He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arms still wrapped around his torso.

“I just didn’t know she was so sad,” you explained, your lip trembling slightly at the thought of your sister, with all her strength and tenacity, slumped over on the bathroom floor. “I should’ve been paying closer attention. I came on this trip for her and all I’ve been doing is thinking about myself. I’m so selfish.”

That thought caused more tears to roll down your cheeks. Rafe placed a palm on either side of your face, his thumbs reaching out to swipe away the salty drops.

“You,” he said firmly, his voice just above a whisper now, more concerned with making sure you heard what he had to say than making sure not to wake anyone, “are not selfish.”

Once your tears were dried, he lifted your face towards him so he could look in your eyes. You ever-so-slightly nuzzled your head into his palm, wondering if he could even feel the gentle way you were surrendering to him. His soft grin told you he could.

“He’s a mess, too,” he nodded back toward Topper’s door.

“I love them, but those two are exhausting,” you chuckled softly. 

Even as the conversation lightened up, his hands didn’t fall from your face, and your arms stayed firmly in place around him, just holding each other as you whisper-laughed about the antics of the whole group this evening.

“Sabrina said you had to chase Kelce half a block,” you giggled, and he’d never felt so relieved to see someone’s tears give way to laughter. “Your dad instincts really kicked in there, huh?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, his eyes creasing with the upward tick of his lips, “the way you basically parted the crowd to get to Carter? Topper might have competition for house mother. Maybe we’re the real mom and dad.”

You snorted at that.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you blinked back, “just funny that you’re already talking about being parents when you haven’t even kissed me yet.”

Rafe nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lips, feigning seriousness, “you’re so right. We should probably do something about that.”

“You should probably do something about that,” you taunted.

His persona cracked and he laughed, eyebrows raised.

“Oh yeah? Should I?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling at him as he leaned forward, eager to recapture the moment that had been so unceremoniously stolen from you a few hours ago.

Just before your lips touched, a vile retching noise came echoing down the hall from Topper’s room. He was vomiting again, and the romance was zapped from the air.

Your head fell back in frustration, groaning.

“You wanna go for a drive?” Rafe offered, hand sliding down your arm to find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there.

You nodded quickly, a smile replacing your annoyed frown. He led you down the stairs fast and you padded behind excitedly, giggling at his speed and urgency. 

“Shit,” he paused before reaching into the bowl on the kitchen counter where everyone was keeping their keys. “I forgot Sabrina blocked me in.”

“We’ll take Carter’s jeep,” you offered, fishing around the bowl until you found her fuzzy pink keychain. “She parked on the road.”

“She won’t mind?” He asked.

“I have a feeling she’s gonna be out for a long time,” you pointed out. “I’m driving though.”

“Just like old times,” he grinned, your heart doing cartwheels at the memory.

Fingers intertwined, you let him pull you away from the house, and the risk of any more interruptions.

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The sky glowed with that pre-sunrise blue fog, turning the world around you into a collection of navy silhouettes. The only shape you cared about seeing was the faded profile of the man in the passenger seat next to you.

Though the air still held the chilly nip of dawn, it was warm enough to roll the windows down, which was always your preference. Your hair whipped around you in a frenzy of wind. You could feel his eyes on you as you drove, but you didn’t look back, suddenly filled with nerves, butterflies crowding your stomach and doubt flooding your mind. You just kept driving, suddenly terrified of what would happen when you stopped.

After a few minutes of unreturned eye contact, Rafe finally tore his gaze away from you, poking around Carter’s car to have something to do with his hands. He opened the glove box, and the middle console, fidgeting with every little button and knick-knack he could find.

You smirked at his restlessness and kept driving straight, not entirely sure where you were going. Rafe opened the sun visor above him, gasping at what he found.

“No fucking way,” he laughed with a disbelieving shake of his head, “Carter has CDs? Still?”

He pulled the sleeve of CDs from the visor’s clip, inspecting them closer. 

“Wait,” a slow smile bloomed on his face as he observed knowingly, “these are yours.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because they’re the same ones you had in your car in high school.”

“Didn’t think you’d remember,” you scoffed.

“I remember everything about you,” he said, like it was the most obvious and casual admission anyone had ever made.

Even with the cool morning air blowing in through the window, the car suddenly felt too hot. Too hot and too small. Your chest and neck bloomed with a nervous blush as your breath quickened. How were you supposed to respond to that? 

Rafe kept sorting through the CDs, nodding at each one in recognition, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb into the conversation.

You needed to fill the silence before he noticed the tornado of anxious thoughts tearing through your mind. 

“You gonna pick one?” You urged him, eager for the sound of familiar music to erase his words that hung in the air between you.

He finally made it to the back of the plastic sleeve, to a familiar silver disc decorated in sharpie in your handwriting; your favorite homemade mix that you’d played every single day from ages fifteen to seventeen.

You’d titled it “car mix,” though a more accurate title would be “Rafe’s mix.”

Sometime during your freshman year, you’d spent a whole day sitting in front of your computer, meticulously sorting through songs that made you think of him, or that you wanted him to listen to, hoping he would hear them and finally understand you somehow. It was a love letter without words, and he’d heard it a thousand times, but you doubted he ever really listened. Par for the course.

“I think that one got scratched,” you tried to discourage him from playing it, the flashback to your desperate, lovestruck younger self a little too much to handle at five a.m.

Rafe turned it over in his hands, inspecting it for those so-called scratches, finding nothing satisfying.

“Looks good to me,” he disagreed, popping it into the CD player and beaming bright as the first song began to play through the speakers.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “it’s like we’re in a time machine.”

You agreed, the familiar opening notes of the first song you’d picked for him sent you flying back in time, to a girl you thought was long dead, and the boy next to her, whom she’d loved to her grave.

Chills shot up your spine, a warning shot before the tears that were beginning to gather on your lash line. You pulled the car quickly to the side of the road, sand flying up with the screech of the tires. You realized then that you’d somehow found your way to the public beach, the parking lot empty and sandy shore free of any sunbathers or surfers.

Rafe turned the music down, looking at you quizzically as your foot slammed on the break. Before he could ask what was going on, you were pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing off your seatbelt, hopping down from the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind you. He scrambled for his door handle as you started walking quickly toward the water and away from him.

The salty air was so thick you could taste droplets of seawater on your lips before you were even halfway to the shore. The waves crashed violently, remnants of the week’s storms throwing the water back and forth until it was foaming and angry.

Angry. You were as angry as the sea, sand kicking up with each stomp of your foot as you hurried as far away from him as you could possibly get. His long legs were already catching him up to you as he chased you down, calling your name.

Despite your efforts to outpace him, you could feel him gaining on you, nearly at your heel by the time your toes touched the water’s edge. Flight would not be an option, it was time for a fight.

“You remember everything?” You whipped toward him, nearly knocking him over with the force of the glare that met him. You stalked toward him, catching the way he backed up just a step before squaring his shoulders and planting himself until you were nearly chest to chest. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Rafe?”

“What are you talking about?” He asked desperately, scrambling from the whiplash of your sudden outburst. “What the hell just happened?”

He was genuinely so clueless as to the reason for your sudden shift in mood, reeling like he was mentally still back in the car listening to music, eyes scanning your face as he tried desperately to catch up. You almost took pity on him. Almost.

“I can’t,” a lump lodged itself into your throat and you bit your lip for a second to hold it down, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“What? Can’t do what?” He begged for clarity.

You just shook your head, a final plea to your own tears not to fall in front of him, but they betrayed you, one single drop slipping down your face. You turned from him quickly as a final ditch ending to hide them from him, and stepped away further down the beach.

“No, no wait, please wait,” with two easy strides he was close enough to touch you, wrapping his hand around your wrist to turn you toward him. “Don’t do this to me. You said you’d remember the alleyway, we were so close. We are so close.”

“Are we?” You challenged him. “If we’re so close then why can’t I even ride in the car with you without feeling like I can’t breathe? You don’t get it, Rafe. You don’t understand that every memory feels like a fucking sucker punch.”

“Then let’s not focus on the memories,” he suggested, “I just want to be with you right now.”

“Why now?” You burst out, another tear breaking through the barricade and sliding traitorously down your cheek. “Why not then?”

They were the two questions that plagued you since you saw him on the beach. You felt you knew the reason. You looked different, he was attracted to this version of you. Even though it would hurt like a bitch, you really wished he would just admit it, that he only wanted you because of how you look now, so you could finally just hate him and move on.

Instead, he continued his time honored tradition of giving you the exact opposite of what you wanted.

He looked straight at you, no waiver in his voice as he said, “because I wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t good enough.”

It was the perfect answer, and your worst case scenario. Heartfelt, honest, a hot knife to the wall of ice you’d worked so hard to build between you and him. As he’d done so many times before, Rafe melted you.

Soft eyes, you tilted your head as you studied him, “and you are now?”

“No,” his laugh surprised you, scoffing as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “But I’m smarter. Smart enough to know that I’ll never be good enough for you. Who could be?”

The last chips of ice melted away entirely at those words, the image of his sweet smile when he said them etched itself on your heart in a way you knew was completely permanent. 

As so often happened when you were at a crossroads with your own mind, you heard Carter’s voice ringing through your thoughts. Though this time, it wasn’t a quippy comment about Rafe, or a catchy mantra to encourage you to hold your head high. Instead, you heard her weak, cracked voice as she cried on the bathroom floor just hours ago; “it’s too scary.” 

Suddenly, you knew exactly what she meant.

Your every instinct was to pull away from him, hide away the vulnerable thought to avoid any risk of him making it worse. But as he looked down at you, the first traces of sunrise streaking across the horizon, casting a gold-pink glow on his cheekbones, something in the back of your mind was saying you could trust him.

“I’m scared,” you all but whispered.

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, as if you were an elusive, wild thing that would run off at any sudden movement. When you didn’t flee, he took the chance to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, voice dropping low as he said, “I know.”

“How am I supposed to know you won’t hurt me?” 

Your deepest fears continued to flow out of you, into his waiting hands, praying he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.

“I don’t think you will until you give me a chance to prove it to you,” he countered.

You knew he was right. Holding him at arm’s length would never get you the answers you needed from him. You’d never know if he had really changed unless you got close enough to relearn him, and you’d never know how he really felt about you unless you gave him a second chance to show you. You aren’t generally opposed to second chances, more likely to give them out then, say, your sister is.

“You know what Carter would say?” You chuckled darkly, unable to detangle your sister’s voice from your own conscience even if you wanted to. “That you don’t deserve any more chances.”

“That might be the first thing I’ve ever agreed with her on,” Rafe was quick to acknowledge. “But you know what else she’d say?”

“What?” You asked with raised brows, skeptical that he had any clue what Carter would actually say, and knowing she would hate that he was claiming to.

“That you deserve a chance.”

Funny thing is, that’s exactly what Carter would say. She didn’t really know how badly you wanted him, that you were starting to suspect you might just be happiest when you’re with him, but she always encouraged you to do what made you happy, even when it was something she didn’t understand.

“And if I’m what you want then I just happen to be the luckiest idiot in the world, because I want you too. You have no idea how badly.”

The tide was coming in, the very edge of each wave nipping at your toes before being pulled back out to sea. Rafe’s confession made you feel so unsteady, you wondered if you’d crumble and get pulled out right with it. Your mind reached for anything to ground you before you drowned in him completely.

“Why?” You asked him, needing his answer like a port in the storm.

“Why?” He repeated, either confused by the question or by the need for it. Somehow, both possibilities annoyed you.

“Yeah, tell me why you want me,” you placed your hands on your hips, shoulders squaring up with him in challenge. “And you’re not allowed to use the word beautiful, or cute, or call me baby.”

“This kinda feels like a test,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah? Maybe it is,” you huffed. “And this time there’s no cheating, no open book. And no me to slip you the answers.”

“Can I get a few minutes to review my notes?” His cheeky pout was so cute you worried you were about to fold right there on the spot.

“Fine,” you allowed, “you get one minute to think about it.”

He feigned worry, faked stress, biting his thumbnail and looking out over the waves as if he actually had to think it over.

In reality, he was more prepared for this test than any he’d ever taken in his life. He’d spent years thinking about this moment, about what he would say, what he could say that would possibly be enough. 

While you waited for him to speak, you mirrored his stance, facing the water with your hands wrapped around you.

Rafe turned his head slightly to take in your profile, the sliver of daylight creeping over the horizon making your features glow so romantically.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you tried to focus on the count in your head, dutifully keeping track of the seconds until his allotted prep time was up.

Evidently, he didn’t need a timer, his voice broke the silence before you had even gotten to forty-five.

“Y’know, I got a walk-on tryout invite for baseball at Chapel Hill,” he started. 

You resisted the urge to look at him or respond, despite your mind racing to connect the dots between that statement and the challenge of explaining why he wants you.

“I was…so shitty,” he laughed at the memory, “I mean just awful. Striking out in the cage, my fielding was all over the place, I dropped a fucking pop fly. I’ve made that play a thousand times and the one time it counted, I dropped it. I mean, you wouldn’t have even recognized me out there. And the best part was that my dad came to watch. He bribed an old alum buddy to get him into closed tryouts just to watch me absolutely shit the bed.”

His smile faded.

“It was the worst day of my life. The coaches didn’t even call me themselves, they sent me an automated email to tell me I didn’t make the team. They were nice enough to send me some film from the tryout, though. I must’ve watched it a hundred times. I was spiraling like a bitch, just full on meltdown. I watched that film over and over, like some kind of torture. When I watched it, I just kept wondering how that guy could’ve ever been considered good.”

He turned to you, looking down at you intensely, hesitating for the first time since he started talking.

“I know I fumbled you. I knew it from the second it happened. And,” he swallowed hard, struggling with the next part. “I knew you were in love with me.”

Your head snapped to the side to look at him, face beat red.

“I was an idiot, but I wasn’t blind,” he continued before you could interject a defense. “The problem was never that I didn’t know, it was that I didn’t know why. But the way you looked at me, I don’t know, it made me feel like I must be like, somewhat good. Why else would you care about me if I wasn’t? But then when I was fucking rotting in my dorm watching that film over and over it dawned on me…you didn’t love me because I was good. I was good because you loved me.” 

Breath escaped you, eyes glossy as you let those beautiful words sink in, but he wasn’t done.

“I thought it was just a lucky break that I got you for four years. And of course I fucked it up, I fuck everything up. After those tryouts, I had nothing, no one. I failed my classes, dropped out of rushing a frat, I stopped talking to everyone. Shit, even my sisters were calling me to see if I was okay. I got it together eventually, kind of, but it’s never been the same. I have never been the same…since you. But then I saw you on the beach the other day, and it kind of hit me. The biggest loss wasn’t your love for me, or my fielding skills, or the bullshit frat parties. It was my best friend. You were my best friend. You were - you are - my favorite fucking person. When all that shit happened, you were the only one I wanted to talk to, and I couldn’t, I didn’t deserve to. But god, I’d give anything, anything, to have my best friend back. You don’t have to…be with me. I understand if you don’t want to. But please, can we just be friends again?”

You blinked up at him as he finished his monologue, all his words swirling around your head like cartoon birds, dizzying and all consuming. You wished it really was a test, cause then you’d have a printed copy that you could study and analyze and go over and over with different colored highlighters.

But it wasn’t a test. It wasn’t a metaphor. It was just you and the boy you love standing on the beach at sunrise, looking at each other like you were the only two people on earth.

“No.” You said, shaking your head.

His eyes blinked rapidly, trying and failing to hold back his emotion. Before he could spiral any further, you added,

“I don’t wanna be friends.”

His eyes flicked over yours for just a second, double checking, asking you silently if that meant what he thought it did. You gave him the slightest nod, as if to finally say “yes, Rafe.”

Rafe’s hands landed firm but gentle on either side of your face, pulling you towards him. Your lips met in a symphony of passion and affection and need and a mutual sigh of fucking finally.

He tasted better than you’d ever imagined, a sweet rush to your head as his tongue parted your lips slightly. He pulled back just an inch to let his uncontrollable smile break against yours, laughing into each other’s mouths in disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy. Once he was satisfied that you understood how happy he was, he pulled you back in. 

If the first kiss was a spark, the second kiss was a goddamn explosion. He kissed you like the tide kisses the shore in a hurricane, his tsunami waves crashing into you over and over again. His tongue took over, claiming you, taking up space in your mouth like he never planned to leave. His hands drifted, one to the back of your head, laced in your hair, the other on the small of your back, holding you against himself. Your hands snaked up his arms, savoring every inch of him until you reached his shoulders. You linked your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as you stood on your tiptoes to meet him, finding middle ground for the first time in your lives.

After a while, your lips parted, both of you desperate for breath, the lack of oxygen dizzying.

“So,” he smiled, hand still cradling your head and his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip, “did I pass?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it, “A minus.”

“What? You must be grading on a curve,” he shook his head.

“Maybe you could do some extra credit,” you flirted.

With a sly smile at that, he returned his lips to yours, and you forgot a time when you didn’t know what it was like to kiss him.

Time passed, the sun rose, night bloomed into morning, and Rafe kissed you for what could’ve been a lifetime. With each minute that passed with his lips on yours, you felt all the bad memories fade to gray, the past washing away with the crash of the waves, leaving only him. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Carter’s Jeep sat parked on the side of the road, the interior dark in the early morning light, except for the phones buzzing uncontrollably on each seat.

On the passenger's side, Rafe’s phone blew up with texts from Topper. The most recent reading ‘dude, we’ve got trouble at the house…’

On the driver’s seat, yours lit up with twelve missed calls and a single text from Carter,

‘Don’t come back.’

(chapter 8: part one)

a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[sexilene]

thinking about rafe, topper, and kelce, helping to teach you how to drive….

you were about to be gifted a pretty new car for your birthday but you still didn’t know how to drive so the boys said they’d help teach you! you stood in the shade picking at your nails as the boys planned an easy enough route for you to practice on without hitting anything or anyone. 

“can we get going pleaseee, you guys can trust me- i read a car manual once, i know how things work….”

“fine, we should be alright i guess…” rafe mumbles as he opens the drivers side car door for you to hop in, he sticks out his hand for you to grab to help you climb into his truck. with rafe in the passenger seat next you, top and kelce in the back you put on the seat belt and place your hands onto the steering wheel to wait for instructions. 

“i can’t believe you are lettin' her use your car man.” kelce shakes his head with wide eyes 

“it’s better than lettin’er practice in one of yours, mine the safest one if anything were to happen.” rafe turns his head back to you “j’us don’t crash…kay?”

“mmhm…how do i start?”

rafe, with his tendency to stress easily, guiding you through the basics of starting the car and adjusting the mirrors. his hands grip on the steering wheel as he instructs you like a child to put your foot on the brake pedal.

"kay, slow and steady now babydoll" rafe says, his voice stern yet soft, letting go of the wheel so you could try keeping it straight. "we don't want to accelerate too quickly, jus' easeee onto the gas...not too much!" you press down on the pedal with your foot as the car moves forward a few inches then breaks suddenly causing everyone in the car to jolt forward. 

“jesus!!…” topper breathes out, both him and kelce then grip onto the handles on the inside roof of the car.

"oh god, i'm sorry!" you wince

“s’alright s’fine just try- try again…” topper encourages as you place your foot back on the gas pedal again

slowly you start to get the hang of it, cruising slowly down the street at a decent pace, everyone seems to be relaxed as you are gaining confidence behind the wheel. then your phone starts to ring, you look down to were you set it down near the cup-holders which causes you to lose a little control of where you are going and makes the car swerve slightly and speed up. 

“EYES ON THE ROAD!” they all shout boyishly, panicked and clearly stressed. rafe’s hand flies out in front of you to emphasize its importance.

“that might be kie, can i get it?” 

“NO!!!” they all shout again

“jeez, ohkay!”

kelce mutters little prayers under his breath "please, let us survive this.” you let out a nervous yelp when up ahead you see a squirrel just chilling in the middle of the road.

“what do i do!”

“JUST SLOW DOWN!” “EYES ON THE ROAD!” the boys shout overlapping their panicked voices, you scream and squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head away.

“NO HEY! DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY!?” rafe shouts all rambly

“ohkay!” you hit the breaks just before the squirrel scampers off up a tree.

“ALRIGHT OUT.” rafe commands, pushing his hair back out of his face, then unbuckling you. “I’m driving the way back, switch.”

as rafe gets out of the passenger seat and rounds the hood of the car to get into the driver seat as you climb over the armrests to get to your new seat. 

“jesus kid…you know what?...you wanna go somewhere in your new car? call me and i’ll take you wherever you wanna go….s’dangerous havin' you out on the roads like this.” rafe huffs as he starts the car again.

“we almost died!” topper lets scoff almost in disbelief at how things took a turn.

“I got slightly distracted! wasn’my fault.”

i luvvvv the kook trio

[ayatotiddies]

Modern Life With Topper Thornton 🧡

Do I even need to add onto this? I feel like everyday would be such a sweet and new adventure with this kook… Going out on nice boats, staying inside, playing tennis & golf, not to mention- walking around Charleston because let’s be fr? THAT’S where he lives… or even flying to new and exotic places with him? It would be such a dream <3 wait… I think I forgot something… cockwarming him on his boat while the sun sets…

Shhh this is my monthly drop… and I made this before Ruthie existed…

@justafangirls-blog tagging my baby!!! Hope you all enjoy 💕 make sure to repost or comment 💋

@topperscumslut I saw you liking my topper stuff so… 🫣🤭

[rothpie]

❝INHERITANCE❞|part1

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Marriage of Convenience; JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Summary: The rebellious child of a noble family, the last hope, the one meant to carry on the family name. Your grandfather’s health was failing, and though you were expected to inherit everything, he had pulled away from you completely. Now, there was only one condition for you to receive his inheritance; to get your life in order, stop coming home late at night, give up drinking, and, of course his last wish—a marriage.

Warnings: kind of daddy issues, mentioning losing parent

selly's note: I'm so excited!!! hope you like it💗💗💗

next

Parties had always been intriguing. For some, they were an escape from life; for others, a lifestyle. They were places where you’d run into everyone you knew or didn’t know. You always hoped they’d play good music, and when you walked in, you loved that moment when most eyes turned your way. Feeling their gazes, being the center of attention, being talked about—that was power. You couldn’t live without attention. Sure, everyone enjoys a little of it, but you craved it every moment.

You loved dancing wildly, drinking, and letting loose at parties. It was one of those rare times you’d truly disconnect from everything. Laughing crazily with your friends, getting close with a guy—it thrilled you. It was as if the world were ending and you were going out with a bang. Live fast, die young, right?

You were meant to live each day like it was your last. You were here to enjoy life, and you had no intention of stopping—because you wouldn’t stop. Today could be your last day.

It wasn’t just a behavior; it was a way of life.

And you were in love with it.

The future could wait; you had more important things to do now—like being young.

You loved the label of “party monster.” Even while listening to The Weeknd, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in the scene. You didn’t think you could live without partying—not at this point.

Most people didn’t matter much to you. Usually, you enjoyed drinking and hanging out with people your own age, soaking in the party vibes, watching people cannonball into pools, the beer pong games, seeing everyone try to drink from kegs. You loved being young.

No lie, you loved everything that came with youth—guys, the fun, the parties, sex, the yacht parties…

Even if you didn’t always prefer getting drunk, your body wasn’t exactly used to it. Strong drinks got you tipsy fast. Most times, you ended up having friends drop you off at home, or you’d wake up at some guy’s place you’d hooked up with. It didn’t matter. You never felt ashamed of one-night stands. Sex was just a part of life. And though you didn’t always like sneaking out quietly, you still did it.

Sticking around and getting emotional wasn’t your style. You hated the “What are we now?” question. You’d rather jump off a cliff than hear it.

Sometimes, though, you’d wake up at home, only to face your dad’s and grandfather’s disapproving stares. Most mornings, you’d stumble down to breakfast looking like a mess. Even after washing your face, your mascara and eyeliner would still smudge, the headache hitting hard—you looked fucked, no doubt.

But you were just a young girl who partied.

You might come home late, drink, be out most of the week, and practically treat the house like a hotel, but hey—at least you didn’t do drugs. That was an accomplishment, right?

You were just a girl.

Hanging out at the golf club didn’t interest you. You thought it was ridiculous, even though you were part of the Kook crowd. With so many things to do, golf? Really?

There was only one reason you’d stay out under the sun that long—tanning. Nothing else could keep you baking in the sun. Ever.

Most people at the golf club weren’t there for golf anyway. They’d wear their best outfits, spritz on perfume, do their makeup, and show up just to flaunt themselves. Some were hoping to score a date for the night, others looking for a potential spouse. The place was swarming with people trying to show off their wealth, a live version of a dating app. You hated it.

Waiting in line for a guy? 

You wouldn’t even look at someone who wasn’t interested in you from the start. Your guy had to be loyal. Chasing other women while pursuing you? Eliminated. Eyeing three other girls in the same room as you? Out. Walking alongside you and your best friends on the same beach? All three of you would kick him to the ass.

You never needed it. Your family name was known, and everywhere you went, you stood out. You didn’t need to make yourself known or put in extra effort to catch people’s attention.

You were already valuable. The brightest jewel on the island. The shiniest diamond.

You were noticeable even on the path you walked.

Still, your love life wasn’t exactly successful. You weren’t sure if it was by choice or if the guys on the island were just idiots. Either way, you always knew most of them were after your family name—maybe to get into the company, or for the benefits it would bring to their own families. It was always a letdown.

Looking back, you were grateful. Those experiences taught you something, and you were now certain none of them were worth a second thought. Your exes were terrible. Thank goodness you hadn’t given any of them your virginity.

One had been worse than the others. But at least he was handsome—and muscular, tall… Too bad he’d left the island.

You were never treated as the “heir” they wanted. Before you were even born, they’d wished for a boy. They’d wanted you to be a son. It was insulting. But you just preferred to think of it as saying, 'Too bad, bitches—I’m a girl!'

Thank heavens.

As a kid, you always wanted a sibling. So did your parents, especially a son to carry on the family line. But when your parents plans conflicted with God’s plans, there’s no telling what might happen.

Before you could have a sibling, you lost your mother. She was in the same car as your dad, and he was the only one who survived. When he refused to remarry, you were left as the family’s only grandchild.

No, you weren’t a boy. But you were still the one they had to trust to carry on the family line. You’d take over the company someday; you’d be the boss. They���d always made that clear. They let you be a kid for a while, but the moment you hit adolescence, the serious talks started. Because of the family’s public image, they always expected you to be polite and courteous. You were, of course.

But over time, these expectations became stricter, and as you felt more pressure from your family, your need for freedom grew.

As much as you loved the party life, you’d take over the company one day. That ambition was in you—it was just a matter of time. And until then, you’d live it up.

Who said girls can’t carry on the family name?

You were living proof, like millions of women out there. You had plenty of time before taking over the company, and for now, you were enjoying the moment. Future you could deal with the future. Why would you worry now?

At this age, you and Jada and Aaliyah were way too busy partying.

It had taken days for you all to decide on a birthday dinner over a party, if we’re honest. It was Jada’s 20th. It was a big deal, and you’d discussed a lot of options. But finally, she decided on a quiet celebration with her closest friends instead of a big party.

The reason was simple.

Her family had just bought a new home, and they’d made it clear they wanted no parties for a while. Jada was on board with that anyway. She didn’t want people throwing up on her new couches or couples making out all over her place.

Besides, she realized you could manage with a small, private party of your own.

First, you’d talked about doing it on a yacht, but Jada didn’t want to risk throwing up on a boat after drinking, not to mention the fear of falling overboard while drunk. It was very much something that would happen to her. She couldn’t stay stable on anything that moved.

After a lot of back-and-forth, Aaliyah came up with the idea of a dinner. She told you both to leave the details to her and picked the spot. Jada was thrilled.

She felt like she was getting a surprise party—although she knew it’d be just the three of you and was fully aware of the plan, she still acted clueless. Even on the way there, she acted like she had no idea why or where you were going—as if it wasn’t her birthday.

But neither you nor Aaliyah broke character. You both played along as if you were headed to the yacht. It became a little game between you.

“Girl, I swear—kisses to the chef won’t cut it! I need to go back to the kitchen and fuck him. If a man cooks like this, I owe him at least ten kids,” Aaliyah said, cracking you both up. Thanks to her, you had the best seats with a full view at Figure Eight’s top restaurant—prime Instagram Story material.

As you took a sip of your white wine, Aaliyah cleared her throat. You turned to her, smiling.

“Girl, you’ve lost it. What if the chef is, like, 54?” Aaliyah scrunched her face, and you joined in, pulling a face as Jada raised an eyebrow. She seemed incredulous. She took another bite before saying anything.

“You two are fucking idiot. Hugh Jackman’s 56, and I’d get in his bed in a heartbeat. I’m ready to be his personal whore.”

She had a point. If the chef looked as good as Hugh Jackman in his fifties, maybe he deserved a look, especially considering guys your age were nothing to brag about.

But still—the idea of dating, let alone sleeping with, a guy old enough to be your dad? That made you feel pretty gross. Just thinking about it made you cringe.

It was nasty.

Unless, of course, it was Hugh Jackman. For him, you'd practically sign up to be his broodmare.

After Jada threw out her little example, the silence stretched, and she looked at both of you with a smug grin. She’d laid down her final word. Period.

Spending time with these girls? Honestly, the best.

Aaliyah, right beside you, let out a dramatic sigh, catching your and Jada’s attention. When she put her hand to her mouth and dropped her fork, the two of you exchanged puzzled, worried glances. Was something wrong? But just as you started to feel real concern, Aaliyah moved her hand and started talking. “I cannot believe I forgot to tell you!”

For a moment, you were seriously worried about her, but quickly you realized that what she’d forgotten was merely a juicy piece of gossip. Which, for the three of you, was life-or-death level serious. If it wasn’t something major, there’s no way she’d be reacting like this. You dropped your fork, grabbing your wine glass as you turned to her. Jada followed suit, shaking her head with a hint of annoyance. “Girl, you’d better mean this in a good way, or I’m throwing you over the railing. You just freaked us out.”

Aaliyah tucked her hair behind her ears, her face breaking into a huge grin. She knew she was holding gold. This might just be the gossip of the year.

After clearing her throat, she looked at the two of you with sparkling eyes. “First off, I heard this from my mom. The whole island doesn’t know yet, but soon enough, everyone will. So we’re like, one of the first. Do you realize how big this is?” Aaliyah took a deep breath, savoring your expectant stares. She was clearly pleased at how primed you both were.

If she held back any longer, you were about to discover telepathy.

“You guys know the Rodolp's, right? They have a son our age, Harry. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph has been coming home later and later, and eventually it came out—he’s cheating on Mrs. Rodolph.” Gossip-wise, you were unimpressed. Who cared about middle-aged infidelity? Cheating on your wife of forty years was just... gross.

“I can see it on your faces. Hold on. Apparently, the person he’s seeing is someone our age.” Now that was interesting.

You turned fully to her, a mischievous grin growing on your face. “Girl, you’d better give us more. I’m dying of suspense here.” Jada nodded in agreement, pointing to you as she puckered her lips. “Right on the money, babe.”

“Do you remember our last year? That term when we mostly had classes together? Biology class, with Liliana. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph is fooling around with Liliana from biology. And it gets even worse—Liliana and Harry are dating. The guy is cheating on both his wife and his son, with his son’s girlfriend.”

Aaliyah was a fucking queen.

You and Jada were on the verge of screaming. If you’d been at home, you two would’ve been shrieking your heads off, but since you were in a restaurant, you both had to clench your teeth to avoid an outburst. This scandal was going to be the talk of the town for months, and thank heavens it had come your way first.

“Damn… Double homicide.”

Leaning back with pride, Aaliyah pointed to herself, clearly reveling in her role. She looked like she’d just swept every major award.

Best Gossip in the Game.

That award was hers. She deserved it.

After that, things settled down a bit. You went back to eating as Aaliyah filled you in on the divorce proceedings, how Harry was firmly on his mom’s side, and any other spicy detail she had on the Rodolph's situation. Jada blew out her birthday candle, and you handed over your gifts—she was thrilled. With a designer bag in one hand and a diamond necklace around her neck, she struggled not to scream from excitement, kissing each of you about a thousand times.

The rest of the evening felt like the perfect girl’s night. You laughed, gossiped, had a blast—until the food was gone and the alcohol intake was way too high.

No one expected to get that drunk. You were pretty sure Aaliyah had promised to only have a little, yet you were positive she had polished off a bottle herself. Jada? She didn’t even pretend; she kept saying it was her birthday and she was entitled to it. She wasn’t wrong.

At one point, Jada even contemplated going into the kitchen to hunt down the chef. She nearly got up but couldn’t decide if she should carry her new bag or stick with her regular one. She added something about 22 or 52 looking no different in her eyes.

And you? Every moment with these girls was priceless. You were making new memories to look back on, imagining them as your kids’ honorary aunts, and then as their kids’ aunts too. Best friends for life.

None of you stopped drinking. You egged each other on, shot after shot, until you lost count.

At the end of the night—you were all completely hammered.

How you got home, who paid the bill, who drove? No clue. You opened your eyes the next morning in your own bed, with a throbbing headache. You felt as if you hadn’t had water in forty-eight hours, and your stomach was burning. You wanted to just lay down on the cool floor. Hangovers like this were the worst.

Sitting up, you reached for your phone. The group chat was lighting up with notifications. When you opened it, you saw that Jada and Aaliyah were already awake, talking about just how far things had gone last night. Jada was still going on about the chef. You’d really gone too far.

It was supposed to be a normal dinner, celebrating Jada’s 20th birthday. A night to hug each other, share some love, then go home—naturally, you’d gone way beyond that.

After reading about Aaliyah getting scolded by her mom, you set your phone back on the bed, unable to deal with more notifications with your throbbing head. You’d text them back later. As much as you loved the wild nights, you hated the mornings after.

To snap yourself out of it, you headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. You were sure you reeked of alcohol, which you absolutely despised. Smelling bad was practically the worst thing you could think of. You had to smell good, always. The shower didn’t take long, and after you got out, you brushed your teeth and went back to your room. You wrinkled your nose at the lingering smell of alcohol.

You opened the windows, threw on some casual workout clothes, and as you brushed your hair, you couldn’t help but think how much you loved being a girl. The self-care, the hair products, all the creams… how do guys even go without this stuff?

What the fuck do they even talk about? How do they survive missing out on all this?

You couldn’t. It was baffling.

Once you were done, you left your hair damp and headed out of your room.

As you were about to enter the living room, three men in suits caught your eye as they exited. Instead of finding your dad and grandfather seated as usual, you noticed your father standing by the window, gazing out over the view, while your grandfather was settled in an armchair, tapping a pen rapidly.

"Good morning," you said, hesitating slightly. Things were always tense in these situations—you were used to it. They didn’t approve of your lifestyle. They might even consider it… unbecoming. And you got it to an extent, but the tension was draining. You’d always hated it.

“More like good afternoon, dear.” Your grandfather’s voice was gentle, but you sensed the sarcasm. He wasn't pleased. Classic.

Just as you were about to respond, you saw your dad turn away from the window. He rubbed his face with his hands, his eyes settling on you with a look so intense it ignited a spark of dread in your gut.

What the fuck was going on?

“Would you like to sit down?” Your grandfather’s voice broke the gaze you held with your dad. You immediately took the seat across from him, catching a hint of a smile on his face. Yet it wasn’t warm. It was an unsettling grin, one that made you feel… uneasy.

You did not like this. Not a bit.

Your dad moved to stand between you and your grandfather, arms crossed. But now he wasn’t even looking at you.

“You never understood.” Your grandfather’s voice cut through, and your brow furrowed. You hated this strained atmosphere. You wanted to get up and leave. But you knew you wouldn’t.

"I’ve tried to help you understand; your father has tried. You’re twenty years old. What are you even living for?”

Okay, now you were officially starting to worry. Your grandfather’s tone, the whole approach—he seemed to be trying to soften the blow. And that, somehow, was even worse. Right now, you hated everything about this.

“You used to be a kid with straight As, despite those odd habits of yours. You didn’t want to go to college; we let it slide. You carry yourself with a confidence that can only come from knowing you’ll always be cushioned. No lie, it’s true.” His smirk widened as he placed the pen down on the coffee table and leaned back.

You’d rarely felt fear in your life. With your father and grandfather behind you, the family name erased any need to be afraid. Your last name was its own protection.

You’d always known that whatever happened, you’d come out fine. That’s why you’d never been scared.

But now? Now your body was nearly trembling. This wasn’t like the usual lecture about your carelessness, or how thoughtless you could be. It was always that same song and dance. But today, they’d taken it somewhere new.

You couldn’t help but be scared.

“So we expected, at the very least, that you’d learn from your mistakes. But it’s clear that’s not happening. You need something to wake you up—a push. And we’ve found one. Until you prove yourself, you won’t receive even a single percent of your inheritance.”

What?

Did he just—did he really just say you were cut off?

As if you didn’t carry the family name? As if you weren’t his grandchild? There was no one else in line for this inheritance. If he left it to your dad, it would still go to you eventually.

So, just because you were young, he was really taking away your rights? This was your birthright! What you did—it wasn’t some rebellion, wasn’t meant as a statement. You didn’t act this way because—

This was your birthright…

Your grandfather started coughing suddenly, his frail body rattling with each hack. Your father moved quickly to his side, and you got up as well. But he raised his hand to stop you both. A helper came to wheel him out of the room, his chair squeaking slightly on the floor. Watching him leave, you replayed his words in your mind, trying to make sense of it.

It was impossible. This was your birthright! How could he just strip it from you?

“You’ve gone too far,” your dad spoke, fixing you with a look that felt like a fireball about to explode. You wanted to lash out, to yell, to demand that this decision be taken back. But the words didn’t come.

“You came home last night like a disaster. Do you know how hard I had to fight to keep him from cutting off your credit cards?” He shook his head, his voice rough. “You’re going to fix this. You’re going to restore your image in his eyes, because right now, you are anything but the girl he wants you to be.” Your hands went to your wet hair, squeezing in frustration. You wished this was all a nightmare, that you were still sleeping.

“What do you want from me, Dad? Should I become some kind of church girl?” Your voice had risen without you realizing it, and you quickly quieted down. You hated feeling cornered, hated this situation, hated everyone—everything.

And those credit cards… if they were cut off, there’d be nothing left for you. And now, losing your future inheritance entirely? It was catastrophic. It wasn’t like you wanted your grandfather dead; you loved him, outdated as he was. But this felt so unfair… You hated every bit of it.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes!” Your dad’s voice snapped you back to reality, his tone so firm it reminded you of being ten years old, on the verge of crying because you hadn’t gotten your way. “Your grandfather is ready to leave the money to the government, do you understand? No—look at me. Let this sink in. Money, property, the company—everything. Fix this. He got married at twenty. It’s practically a miracle he hasn’t lost his mind with you staying out all night, bringing home God knows who. You’re going to fix this, understand?”

You found yourself nodding automatically.

The way he was using this inheritance as a punishment was disgusting. Leaving it all to the government—now that was a nightmare. You did not want that.

“Can’t you… Can’t you change his mind?” you asked, voice low. Your father gave you a look like you’d just spoken in a foreign language. He took a few quick steps forward, disbelief on his face. He was furious that you still seemed unwilling to accept this reality.

“Do I look like I haven’t tried?” His voice was hard, his expression angry. He was holding back to avoid drawing attention. Neither of you wanted this conversation getting back to your grandfather. “If you want the money, you’re going to stop spending your nights out like some fool. Yes, actually, a church girl wouldn’t be a bad idea. Hell, maybe even get married if you need to, I don’t know! Just make him happy! I’m not the one causing this mess!”

Your hands pressed against your head as you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of it all. You tried to think. Even if you did all of this, how did you know your grandfather would ever change his mind? Maybe he’d never truly approve…

When you opened your eyes to speak, you found an empty room.

Of course—your dad had left.

[xoxoch3rry]

𝔹𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝔼𝕪𝕖𝕕 𝕋𝕚𝕖𝕕

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

Word count: 1,053

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Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Warnings: Possessiveness, Jealousy, fighting

Summary: When Rafe sees you hanging out with a specific pouge he gets possessive.

────⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆˖ ࣪⊹────

Rafe Cameron prided himself on being indifferent, above emotions like jealousy or insecurity. Yet, watching you laugh with JJ Maybank on the beach as the sun dipped below the horizon made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

You weren’t supposed to be here, with him, with them. You were his. Or at least, you had been—until recently.

Rafe leaned against the railing of the Cameron dock, his jaw tight and his beer forgotten in his hand. Your smile lit up the gathering, and every time JJ leaned closer to whisper something in your ear, Rafe's grip on the bottle tightened. “You look like you’re about to snap that bottle in half,” Topper said, strolling up beside him. “Shut up,” Rafe muttered, his eyes never leaving you. Topper followed his gaze and smirked. “Oh, I see. Pogue girl hanging out with Maybank. That’s gotta sting.”

“It doesn’t sting,” Rafe snapped, but the heat in his voice betrayed him. You’d been spending more time with JJ lately, and for good reason. Rafe’s behavior had grown increasingly erratic, his moods swinging like a pendulum. One moment, he was sweet and attentive, the next, cold and distant. JJ, on the other hand, was a constant source of light. Tonight was no different.

JJ had dragged you to the beach with the rest of the Pogues, promising a carefree evening. “You need to relax,” he’d said, flashing you one of his trademark grins. “Forget about the Camerons for a while.” You hadn’t expected Rafe to show up, but of course, he had. He couldn’t resist inserting himself wherever you were, especially when JJ was involved. Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. Watching JJ sling an arm around your shoulders was the final straw. He slammed the beer down on the railing and stalked toward the firepit where you were sitting. JJ noticed him first, his grin fading as Rafe approached. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Cameron,” JJ drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Maybank,” Rafe said curtly, barely sparing him a glance. His eyes were locked on you. “We need to talk.” You looked up at him, your smile faltering. “Rafe, what are you doing here?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing,” he shot back. “Didn’t realize you’d switched sides.” JJ stood up, stepping between you and Rafe. “Back off, man. She doesn’t owe you an explanation.”

“Stay out of this,” Rafe growled, his hands curling into fists. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“It does when you’re acting like a psycho,” JJ countered, his posture tense. “Enough!” you said, standing up and stepping between them. “Both of you, stop.” You turned to Rafe, your eyes blazing. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Rafe repeated, his voice rising. “I want to know why you’ve been ignoring me for him.” He jabbed a finger in JJ’s direction. “Maybe because you’ve been impossible lately,” you shot back. “You push me away, and then you act like this when I try to have a life outside of you.” Rafe’s expression darkened, his jealousy morphing into something sharper. “You think he’s better than me?” he demanded. “Is that it?”

“This isn’t about JJ!” you said, exasperated. “This is about you and how you can’t handle me being around anyone else.” JJ scoffed. “Yeah, because he’s a control freak.”

Rafe’s fist shot out before anyone could react, connecting with JJ’s jaw. JJ stumbled back but quickly recovered, tackling Rafe to the sand. “Stop it!” you yelled, trying to pull them apart. “Rafe, JJ, stop!” It took John B and Pope jumping in to separate them. Rafe’s chest heaved as he glared at JJ, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You’re pathetic, Cameron,” JJ said, wiping his own bleeding lip. “No wonder she’s done with you.” Rafe lunged, but you stepped in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. “Rafe, enough.” He froze at your touch, his anger flickering into something else—something vulnerable. You dragged Rafe away from the group, ignoring their protests. He followed you silently, his head hung low like a scolded child.

When you were far enough from the firepit, you rounded on him. “What the hell was that?”

“I—” He faltered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t know. I just...I saw you with him, and I lost it.”

“That’s not an excuse,” you snapped. “You can’t just hit people because you’re jealous.”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I know I screwed up. I just—God, I can’t stand seeing you with him. It drives me crazy.” You crossed your arms, your frustration warring with the ache in your chest. “Rafe, you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pushing me away and then losing your mind when I’m with someone else.”

“I’m scared,” he blurted out, his blue eyes wide and desperate. “I’m scared of losing you.” The admission caught you off guard. “Rafe…”

“I know I’ve been a mess,” he continued, his voice trembling. “I know I don’t deserve you. But I—I love you, okay? I love you, and it’s killing me to think I’ve ruined this.” Your heart twisted at his words. Despite everything, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him, the way he could get under your skin like no one else. “You don’t get to love me like this,” you said quietly. “Not if it means trying to control me or acting like I’m your possession.”

“I don’t want to control you,” he said, stepping closer. “I just want you to need me as much as I need you.” You looked up at him, your resolve wavering. “Rafe, I need you to prove that you can handle this. That you can handle me having friends, even if they’re Pogues.”

“I’ll try,” he said earnestly. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Just...don’t give up on me.” You sighed, your anger softening. “Rafe, I care about you. But this has to change.” He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear. “I’ll change,” he promised. “For you, I’ll change.” As much as you wanted to believe him, only time would tell if he could keep that promise. For now, though, you let him pull you into his arms, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the salty night air.