K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->
✿ P A I R I N G ✿
s1!rafe cameron x overthinker!reader (f)
✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿
swearing; suggestive language & themes; slightly explicit flashback to their intimate beach encounter; rafe pov; possessive!rafe hihi; mild reference to male masturbation
✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿
after your mom called, you and rafe drove to your place to be confronted by your parents with rafe's jacket and a baggie of coke your housekeeper had found. your parents reacted worried, promising not to tell ward for now. they only know he's a user, not a dealer.
your dad took rafe to a private trip to the country club to talk about rafe's problems. rafe revealed his struggles and your dad reacted shocked about rafe doing business with whitmore, warning him of that guy.
your mom shared her worries about rafe downspiraling and implied the fear of him becoming handsy under drugs. you escaped to a hangout with cara at a beach bar. she shared sarah tried to interrogate her about you and rafe and the deal. she also mentioned the fear of being neglected and you apologized and shared rafe's in trouble with ruthie.
at the bar, you got a private chat with gracie who was there with samantha. gracie revealed she has no date for the gloaming and cleared up that she asked topper for rob's number so he can be ruthie's date bc he'd blocked ruthie. she apologized for everything and nearly revealed a secret but cara intercepted.
later, rafe revealed the deal is sealed, explaining ruthie is now his business partner instead of her dad bc she pitched their fathers a new deal idea behind his back. they wanna announce it on the gloaming. you concluded that ruthie sharing the video is very unlikely and that she's also a liability now. rafe fingered you at a private beach spot, ending in you trying to convince him to accept help from his friends.
✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿
smau + 1.3k written
✿ A / N ✿
a rather short chapter i’d say but i’ve decided SMAU for this makes sm more sense storytelling wise (besides reader and rafe deciding to do so) and bc i wanted to focus on details instead of dragging this out into a complex written conversation. anyway, enjoy, lmk your thoughts <3
xx ᓚᘏᗢ
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W E E K T W O // T H U R S D A Y
1 1 : 0 0 P M
Man, fuck that shit.
Annoyed, Rafe let his phone drop onto the mattress beside him and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. A frustrated exhale left his lips, his jaw clenching as he leaned his elbows on his knees.
Somehow, he felt both lighter and heavier at the thought of his and your friends now knowing about the whole fucked-up situation with Ruthie too.
Kelce he trusted. Idiot Topper was another story. The fact that he had a history of hanging out with both Sarah and Ruthie rubbed Rafe wrong in every way possible. Seemed like he enjoyed being around snakes—especially those two—so there was every reason not to trust him with something this big.
Then again, apparently half of Figure 8 knew Rafe was being blackmailed by some fuckass bitch, judging by the way Sarah had told your friends.
And as for those two... Rafe had no idea what to make of your best friend. She babbled way too much, was far too unpredictable for his taste, and yet the fact that she was your closest friend had to mean something. He remembered you and her being practically glued together since freshman year.
And Molly. Rafe had barely ever interacted with her before last week. She was a cute chick, really sweet, and she reminded him a little of you if you weren't such an awkward weirdo.
In a good way, alright?
So, guess she could be trusted? Or not? How the fuck would Rafe know? Although he had to admit her idea with the snuff tobacco wasn't bad. Shit, okay, it was kinda smart even.
If he wasn’t dealing, and half the fucking school didn’t know about it, his only real problem would’ve been the fact that he used coke himself. And besides the video Ruthie had, there wasn’t any actual proof of that. Sure, some bastard—or Ruthie herself—could go running to the cops or his dad saying Rafe did lines, but without anything physical to back it up, he could’ve played the whole thing off as snuff.
But that wasn't the case.
He was a fucking dealer. And legally, that was a hell of a lot worse than just putting the shit up his own nose.
Fuck.
Rafe was really fucking screwed. This whole day had screwed him.
If he hadn't seen you again after that shitty meeting today, there was a pretty good chance he would've driven straight to Barry's and done two or three lines.
He'd been so fucking close. His blood had been boiling, his nerves vibrating, his head pounding like his entire body was about to implode.
But he'd resisted. Because you'd been there for him.
The moment he'd seen you walking toward his car in the beach parking lot, wearing that sweet little outfit of yours with that shy smile on your face, it was like all his anger and frustration had evaporated. Even the need for a line had disappeared, leaving only that dull buzzing of nerves behind.
Kinda like hearing a swarm of bees somewhere in the distance. You knew they were there, but not close enough to bother you or make you scared of getting stung.
And fuck, how sweet and beautiful you'd looked coming undone under Rafe's touch. The sounds you'd made, the way you'd arched your back, and how fucking wet you already were when his fingers slipped beneath your panties.
Just remembering it had his cock stirring again.
Rafe had to physically get up and splash his face with cold water in the attached bathroom. His arms braced against the sink, head hanging low while drops of water ran down his nose and chin onto the hard surface below.
He'd been so nervous. Yeah, shit, fucking nervous.
The moment you'd made him come in his boxers like some pathetic mess, he'd wanted to give you something back. And the idea of touching you like that, in places no one ever had before? Fucking scary.
He knew you had no prior experience, so at least you couldn't compare him to some other fucker, but being the first guy ever allowed to touch you like that felt like being handed something precious he didn't wanna stain or break.
And thank God, he hadn't.
Apparently, having his fun with other chicks had paid off in some kind of way. He'd always made sure they came too after he finished. He didn't need some girl running around telling her friends Rafe was bad in bed and couldn't please a chick.
Focusing on the clit or fingering usually did the job. That's what he'd learned from porn. The guys in those videos used their mouths a lot too, but that shit was something Rafe never, ever wanted to do with some random chick.
With you though... the taste he'd gotten afterward had already sparked some kind of hunger in him, but he'd never actually eaten pussy before, so he absolutely wasn't gonna embarrass himself in front of you.
Although, that had already happened today. Rafe had nearly wanted to stick his head in the fucking sand when fingering you didn't seem to have the effect he'd been hoping for. He'd barely moved his fingers for a few seconds before you'd already asked him to stick to your clit.
You hadn’t even given him thirty fucking seconds to figure out how you liked it best.
Rafe groaned, dragging a hand over his face at the scratch to his ego.
He’d tried to play it off cool, of course—what else was he supposed to do?—and focused on getting you to finish, but man, that shit had been a hard pill to swallow.
Whatever. You’d enjoyed yourself. He’d made you come. That was what mattered. Everything else was just background noise.
He just wished you hadn’t brought up Ruthie afterward. That had killed the mood pretty fucking fast. Listening to your little ramble about telling your friends had taken more patience than he wanted to admit, but for you, he’d sat there and dealt with it.
He’d survived that whole bullshit meeting earlier too, so apparently there wasn’t much he couldn’t tolerate at this point.
Rafe grabbed the towel beside the sink, wiped the remaining water from his face, tossed it back down, and headed into his bedroom again before dropping backward onto the mattress.
Stressed.
Rafe was fucking stressed. He had to admit that.
Ruthie stressed him, this fuckass business deal stressed him, his dad, his grades, school, the fucking Gloaming, this... act. The fact that sooner or later, you wouldn’t be his anymore stressed him most of all.
A girlfriend.
He never—like, genuinely fucking never—would've thought he'd enjoy having someone he could call his this much. Someone who was always there when he needed them, who stimulated him physically and mentally, and who also happened to be as fucking cute and pretty as you.
Not some Kook bitch like Ruthie who'd only cling to his ass for his money and the Cameron name.
No, you were a sweet girl who seemed to put up with his shit just because you could. And you were weird. He liked that for some reason.
Fuck.
He exhaled and let his fingers slip beneath his boxers.
He didn’t wanna lose you. He barely even knew you—that was the craziest fucking part—and yet he knew enough to know he wanted to keep you by his side. Like, yeah, shit, you’d promised each other you'd stay friends after this whole shit show was over, but... what if Rafe didn’t just wanna be friends with you?
He groaned when his hand started moving.
The thought of you suddenly being available to every other asshole on the island made something ugly twist in his stomach. Robert Lewis had barely looked at you and put his hands on you at Kelce’s party before Rafe had nearly started a fight over it. How the fuck was he supposed to stand around as your buddy while some other guy got to call you his girlfriend?
No. Fuck no. Absolutely not.
His hips twitched against his fist, breathing growing unsteady.
Rafe wanted you to be his. Like actually his.
Not some fake-couple acting bullshit. The real shit.
And luckily, the Gloaming was considered the most romantic and magical event of the season. Nothing could possibly go wrong that night, right?
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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->
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T A G L I S T F O R M
(taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)
Summary: You are the reason Rafe makes the staff sign NDAs and the very sight of you lounging topless by the pool, is the very proof of that.
Classification and content warnings: Smut +18 | Established relationship, exhibitionism, abuse of power, biting, fingering, finger sucking and unprotected p-in-v sex.
Word count: 1,4k
Divider by me ;)
Rafe sat in his office, phone pressed to his ear as he took call after call, the warm afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows and highlighting the sleek interior. Beyond the glass, the villa stretched out toward the pool, the garden alive with soft rustling leaves and the distant chatter of others moving about.
You lounged topless by the pool, tucked into the shade just enough to keep the sun off your skin, eyes casually following his movements. The quiet hum of the water, the gentle sway of the palms, all faded around you because watching him was enough and judging by the slight smirk he shot your way every now and then, he was doing the exact same thing.
It had become a silent rhythm between the two of you, an unspoken game, him aware of your gaze…you aware of his, each moment stretching just long enough to make it deliciously tense. Whether it was the tilt of his shoulder as he gestured on the phone or the way you adjusted your posture in the outdoor lounge chair, it was, without a doubt, each other’s favorite sight in the whole house.
You watched as he finally stepped outside, the sunlight catching the angles of his face, each movement unhurried, as if he wanted you to notice every step. He moved closer, never once breaking eye contact and it made your pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with the heat of the sun.
His gaze lingered on you, tracing the lines of your bare shoulders, the curve of your arms, swell of your breasts and the way the light kissed your skin. There was something in the way he looked at you, equal parts admiration, appreciation and that quiet, steady desire that made it impossible to look away. Every subtle shift in his stance, the slight tilt of his head and the ease in his shoulders, told you that he was completely absorbed in you and it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.
“Yeah, I’ll read that when I have a minute…” he said into the phone, taking your hand in his hand and pressing it onto his hardened cock.
At the sight of your grin, a slow smile tugged at his lips and he shook his head slightly, clearly amused. Without breaking eye contact, he pressed the phone closer to his ear. “I’ll call you back,” he said, tone casual.
“The sight of you like this reminds me why I need to make all of our staff sign iron-claw NDAs,” he said with a smirk, glancing around at the few staff scattered across the property. Their heads were down, eyes averted, the unspoken understanding clear.
He leaned back slightly, letting his gaze linger on you in your skimpy outfit, warm and appreciative. “And knowing that I’m the reason you get to relax like that… with no worries, no responsibilities…” His voice trailed off into a low, satisfied hum, the kind that made your chest tighten and a small smile tug at your lips.
"I'm a lucky man," Rafe mumbled to himself, the words barely audible but dripping with satisfaction. His eyes lingered on you, taking in every inch of your sun-kissed skin.
“You look really good too, baby,” you purred, your hand slipping beneath your bikini bottoms, fingers teasing your clit as his gaze darkened with hunger.
Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, his voice low and thick with arousal. "Yeah, sweetheart? You like the view?"
You nodded, fingers circling your clit with slow strokes, soft moans escaping your lips. His eyes locked onto your movements, hand instinctively gripping his cock through his jeans.
“Why don’t you stay…take a quick break, huh?” you teased, your voice breathy.
Rafe grinned, nodding as if the decision had been made long before you asked. You pulled your hand out from beneath your bikini bottoms, your fingers glistening in the sunlight. He didn’t hesitate, pulling your hand to his mouth and licking them clean with a slow drag of his tongue. His eyes burned into yours, lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he savored the taste of you.
With a soft hum, he released your fingers and carefully lowered himself onto the lounge chair, settling between your thighs. His body pressed against yours, his weight comforting yet electrifying. He gazed down at you with a soft smile, his affection unmistakable.
Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, then your nose and finally your lips. His face nuzzled against your neck, his teeth gently grazing your pulse point as he marked you.
Your hands worked quickly, undoing his jeans and freeing his hardened cock. He groaned deeply, breath hitching as your fingers wrapped around him delicately. Hands trailing down and settling between your thighs to pull your bikini bottoms to the side before wrapping his fist around his cock and aligning himself.
He pushed in, groaning as he slowly filled your eager, slick pussy. The sudden stretch sent a warm ache through your lower back that quickly melted into pleasure.
Rafe leaned down, kissing you deeply to savour your gasps as he began thrusting into you. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, your lips parting in pleasure as a raw moan escaped you, surely catching the attention of the staff around.
You sighed, hands caressing his lower back as you closed your eyes. “Feels so good Rafe”
"Yeah, sweetheart?" he murmured, the words a low rumble against your skin. He continued to move slow and steady, every inch of his body pressing against yours as the pool drowned out the sounds of your squelching pussy.
You sighed, savoring the sensation of his cock wrecking your pulsing walls. “Feels so good, Rafe,” you murmured, your voice trembling with pleasure.
"Yeah, sweetheart?" he murmured back, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin.
You whimpered, the slow pace of his girthy cock both comforting and wrecking you at the same time. He reveled in the sounds of your whimpers, his body responding to every little noise you made. His kisses grew more heated, his tongue tracing a path from your collarbone to your jawline before finally finding your earlobe, teasing it just enough to drive you insane.
His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and pinching your hardened nipples as though he still couldn't believe he had the privilege of being inside you. His hips pressed deeper now, the head of his cock pressing deep inside of you, hitting that spot that made your toes curl.
You moaned, nails digging into his shirt as his hand gripped your hip a bit tighter keeping you in place while rolling his hips up into you. He gently nipped at your jaw, his ragged moans filling your ears as his tongue darted out to soothe the minor sting. His movements were slow but deep, each stroke of his body against yours sending waves of pleasure through both of you. The connection between you was electric, the world around you fading into the background as the only reality became the feel of his body against yours.
Your lips parted open as your back arched slightly onto him. “Oh god…so good, baby,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.
“Your pussy loves it, huh?" he murmured, his grip on your hips tightening just a bit. "Feel good?" His thrusts quickened now, the sound of skin on skin slapping loud enough to make it hard to ignore, the sheer force of it rocking the lounge chair. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.
You felt your walls pulse around him, thighs shaking as you moaned and nodded rapidly. “Fuck yes! Uhhh! Mmm,” you cried out, your body trembling with pleasure.
He felt your release around him and a shiver of pleasure shot through his body. He groaned, his movements never ceasing, his pace unwavering.
"That's it, baby," he groaned, as his balls slapped your ass with force. Your fingers dug into his back, thighs shaking and gasping when he settled deeper and you felt him twitch, cock throbbing as he spilled his seed. He groaned deep in his chest, head falling forward to bury his face into your neck as he held you tight and kept fucking his cum into you slowly, in a way that had your eyes rolling back.
Rafe said NDAs were proof of success, but this…this was proof of something else entirely.
think of him as your shadow. always a step behind, always watching. sure, he lingers a little longer than most. and maybe it’s not technically normal to slip through your window when you’re not home. but he has to—he needs to. how else could he keep you safe? because without him, who knows what could happen to you. right…?
a collection of stalker!rafe cameron x fem!reader imagines. stand-alone entries you can sink into, one unsettling chapter at a time.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˚ ༘𓊆ྀི ♱.˚⠀
#stalker!rafe + #YOU~AU
disclaimer: this is a fictional AU rooted in thriller/psychological horror themes. nothing here condones or romanticizes real-life stalking, violence, or abusive behaviors. read with discretion.
think of him as your shadow. always a step behind, always watching. sure, he lingers a little longer than most. and maybe it’s not technically normal to slip through your window when you’re not home. but he has to—he needs to. how else could he keep you safe? because without him, who knows what could happen to you. right…?
a collection of stalker!rafe cameron x fem!reader imagines. stand-alone entries you can sink into, one unsettling chapter at a time.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˚ ༘𓊆ྀི ♱.˚⠀
#stalker!rafe + #YOU~AU
disclaimer: this is a fictional AU rooted in thriller/psychological horror themes. nothing here condones or romanticizes real-life stalking, violence, or abusive behaviors. read with discretion.
ex!bf!rafe leaving a drunken voicemail on your phone
a/n: lowkey part two of this, but can be read individually
cw: heavy angst, emotional betrayal, regret, lots of yearning
you told yourself you wouldn’t think about him anymore. but the image of that night was burned into your brain, no matter how many times you tried to forget about it.
rafe at that party, drink in one hand, her on his arm. the girl he’d told you not to worry about. the one who’d always been lingering in the back of your relationship.
he saw you. you saw him. and for a split second the mask slipped. but that was it. you walked out, silent, shattered, and you didn’t look back. you thought that would be the end of it. a clean break.
but a week later, at 3:14 in the morning, your phone lit up with his name. one missed call. one voicemail. you stared at it for a long time. every part of you screamed not to listen. but your body betrayed you.
“y/n…” the way he said your name, like it physically hurt him, already had tears welling your eyes. his words slurred, heavy with whiskey, breaking in some places. “i don’t know how to do this. i don’t know how to be without you.”
your stomach clenched. even now, even after everything, the sound of his voice still hit like a punch. you curled your fingers into the sheets, trying to steady yourself. you wanted to scream, to tell him he should’ve thought about that before. but you couldn’t make a sound.
“i saw you last week. i saw the way you looked at me when you walked out. you looked at me like i was nothing. and i deserve that, i do. but, fuck—do you know what it did to me? it killed me. because you’re the only thing i’ve ever wanted, and i threw it away for nothing. for her. and it didn’t mean shit, y/n. it was empty. everything’s empty without you.”
his breathing was uneven, like he was fighting back sobs. you squeezed your eyes shut. you remembered how it felt, standing there at that party, your chest splitting as you watched him touch her the way he used to touch you.
“i keep trying to fill the hole you left. pills, booze, girls, fights—none of it works. it never works. because it’s not you. it’s never you. and i swear to god, you’re the only one who makes me feel like i’m not insane. like i’m not just my father’s fucked-up, broken son. with you, i felt… human. like maybe i was worth something. do you get that? you’re the only thing that’s ever made me feel alive.”
your throat closed. tears spilling down your cheeks. he was saying all the things you once begged him to say when you were still there, still fighting for him. and now it was too late.
“i know i ruined it. i know i broke you. i know i’ve been a coward from the start. but i can’t fucking breathe without you. i can’t sleep, i can’t eat, i can’t think. i walk into a room and i’m looking for you. i close my eyes and it’s you i see. i’m haunted by you, y/n. and maybe that’s what i deserve. maybe that’s my punishment for throwing away the only good thing i ever had. but i’m begging you, even if you never take me back—please don’t forget me. please don’t erase me from your life like i don’t exist. i couldn’t take it.”
a pause, then a sound so raw it broke you. he choked on a desperate sob. you bit your lip so hard it almost bled. part of you wanted to hate him for this. and part of you wanted to reach through the phone and just have him with you again.
“i love you. i love you in a way that ruins me. in a way that’s killing me right now. and i’ll never stop. i don’t care if you hate me, i don’t care if you never say it back again—i’ll never stop loving you. you’re it for me, y/n. you’ve always been it.”
the voicemail ended in silence. but his words hung in the air, pressing against your ribs, making it impossible to breathe. you sat there in the dark, your phone clutched tight, tears slipping down your face faster than you could wipe them away.
you hated him. you loved him. you couldn’t stop hurting. and yet, god help you, you wanted him. your thumb hovered over his name in your call log. you told yourself not to do it, that it would only hurt more. but you pressed it anyway.
the line rang once. and then his voice came through, rough and broken, like he hadn’t slept in days. “…y/n?”
K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->
✿ G E N R E ✿
she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama
✿ P A I R I N G ✿
s1!rafe cameron x overthinker!reader (f)
✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿
swearing, SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE & THEMES, SEXUAL TENSION, both high on edibles (in all seriousness, pls be cautious about this shit!!!), angsty, hints at a panic attack, CHEESY AND CRINGE AT SOME POINT BUT LEMME, description of arousal, implied teenager sex / power imbalance (flashback only)
✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿
while rafe and you went shopping for the sleepover, you posted stories and had a little banter + rafe paid for the whole haul. rafe promised himself he wouldn't have sex with you tonight bc he wanted to be a gentleman and also he felt like you deserved better.
in the car, he lashed out mildly at you bc of sarah's snooping but he quickly apologized for his temper. he also accidentally admitted his multiple solo sessions were tied to missing you. awkwardly, you deflected it and admitted you'd missed him too.
on the yacht, he teared up over your personalized and nostalgic setup. you went through all the gifts except one. afterward you consumed edibles and planned to work on the project. rafe started regretting not having brought condoms bc you seemed so flirty today.
✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿
12.5k+
✿ A / N ✿
FINALLY THE 2ND HALF YAY (THERE'S ONE SLEEPOVER PART LEFT !!!). this one was one hell of a beast and i know it has some medium to heavy topics (i wanted to give some insight to KMS!rafe's hookups and sex life and all) and lots of convos and honestly, it's all A LOT, idek what to say... just enjoy. i deeply hope it meets your expectations and PLEASEEEEE LMK WHAT YOU THINK <3
art in this ch. made by me: DO NOT COPY, REPOST OR USE ELSEWHERE !!!!
xx ᓚᘏᗢ
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W E E K T W O // T U E S D A Y
7 : 5 8 P M
Grinning to yourself, you set the phone back down on the table, flipped it face-down, and tried to ignore the guilt of what you'd just spilled about Rafe's little problem (but seriously, you just couldn’t let Kie clown him like that).
Shit. Getting defensive over him at all? That was NOT A GOOD SIGN HAHAHAHA.
Welp. Anyway.
You were too high to let that bother you right now.
Your cheeks ached from all that smiling, but it didn’t matter—you felt loose, like every muscle had finally unclenched. A mellow warmth had spread through your body, sinking into your chest and fingertips, leaving you weightless and your minions blissfully unbothered.
About an hour after snacking on those cookies, their effects had started to kick in. At first, you and Rafe (who had gone to piss two minutes ago) had actually been working well together—cutting out collage snippets, rearranging them, debating where each fit (“I also have a piece that needs a fit,” he’d said, because tonight he was UNBELIEVABLY HORNY).
But after 30 minutes, you felt a tingling in your fingertips, warmth spreading everywhere, and the way the world slowed down in that peaceful, gradual way.
You’d started giggling more at Rafe’s suggestive jokes, even threw out some bold ones of your own because your brain had basically started powering down, your minions drifting off to sleep.
Which was embarrassing as hell, like obviously you were still present—being high and being drunk were two completely different things—but Rafe’s cookies didn’t really kick in until the last 10 minutes, and well… it meant he experienced your giggly and bubbly state mostly sober at first.
But when he started getting more smiley, half-lidded, his pupils blown wide, you knew he was on his way to being stoned too.
Or well… more buzzed in his case, because he claimed he usually needed two cookies to get properly stoned. (Yeah, we’ll see about that, because Cara had mixed them strong.)
So in the very, very, very back of your mind, there lingered some quiet fear: that Rafe’s high would turn into a horror trip eventually because he'd overestimated his tolerance, and you definitely wouldn’t be able to manage him panicking like that.
BECAUSE RAFE PANICKING? AKA THE GUY WHO WAS ALWAYS IN “I DON’T GIVE A SHIT” MODE? NOPE. ABSOLUTELY NOT.
Him tearing up earlier had already cost you so much willpower not to sob with him, because your heart ached so fucking deeply for this poor boy who just wanted to be held and loved underneath that nonchalant (tho considering his temper, that term was debatable) exterior.
The way he’d clung to you like he never wanted to let go, that fucking whimper when your hand slid through his hair—JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.
Worst part? Not only had it shattered your heart, it had also… made your kitty purr like crazy.
#actuallyinsaneconfirmed?
And the even crazier crazier part? HAHAHAHHAHHA.
All this time, beginning from the moment he'd picked you up at your place, there was a certain feeling in your stomach. A certain something. This restless little thing that seemed to know more than you. As if it was waiting for some specific event to happen tonight.
AND THE WAY RAFE STEERED EVERY LITTLE CONVERSATION TOWARD SUGGESTIVE TONES OR SEX? DIDN'T HELP AT ALL.
GOOD THOUGHTS, DUDE. Otherwise, YOU’d end up with a horror trip just from spiraling so hard.
Like, sure, weed calmed your body and slowed your thoughts down, but it also easily triggered some horrible panic attacks even when you were comfy stoned.
ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THESE WERE SATIVA-DOMINANT EDIBLES AND your brain just wouldn’t shut the fuck up—every random thought felt like it had twenty branches, and if you weren’t careful, before you knew it, you were convincing yourself the world was ending while your heart was racing like you’d downed five Red Bulls.
SHIT. And of course now you became very aware of your slightly faster heartbeat HAHAHAHAHA. Or the way your throat felt dry and NONONONO—
“Shit, most luxurious piss I’ve ever taken.”
[Panic attack canceled.]
You chuckled as he crashed down beside you on the corner bench outside on the aft deck. (Mind you, there was ENOUGH space for 10 people in this area.)
And when he finally turned to face you, you burst out laughing at his definitely high expression. Hints of red in his eyes, a glossy, wide-eyed smile.
Oh and of course the way he almost sat on your lap.
“Move,” you said as you shoved him away by the shoulders.
Rafe laughed but stayed put, eyeing you with a crooked grin. “C’mon, let’s do something fun now. We worked enough on this bullshit.”
Yeah, you could already imagine what ‘fun’ entailed for him.
But to be fair… he wasn’t wrong. It was already 8 PM, and you’d worked for a whole hour and actually made solid progress. You did have enough energy to finish the whole project because your body was surging with creativity, but nah. You only had like 10% of total work left.
Rafe had activated his work-mode or whatever, and he'd been so locked in, he cut out almost all the collage pieces on his own within 15 minutes. He’d been very dramatic and complaining about it, and talked about how he signed up for a girlfriend, not a work partner—"Rafe, we literally were exactly that just a week ago", but he just threw you a dry-ass side-eye in response.
You'd also managed to finish one of the two big collage pieces by rearranging them in a way that portrayed modern elements representing Aphrodite, arranged into a silhouette that could be her.
Rafe sulked about you denying him the chance to add some Playboy cutouts because “That chick stands for sex and freaky shit so it fits, right?” to which you just laughed and said, “You can do that for your own private project.” He, then of course, was like, “Baby, we can start a private project in the bedroom,” and you threatened him with scheduling a therapy session for the next day, to which he just laughed like a dirty bastard.
In all seriousness, though, his horniness (as hilarious as it was) was kinda concerning. Especially if what he’d said was true and he’d jerked off multiple times today. No way his withdrawals were that bad that his brain had just latched onto the next source of serotonin.
WHICH—WHY HAD HE EVEN ADMITTED THAT OUT LOUD TO YOU??? LIKE THREE TIMES??? ONCE WAS ALREADY TOO MUCH INFO, BRO.
BUT NO.
THAT FUCKER TOOK IT FURTHER AND EVEN ADMITTED THE REASON FOR HIS GOONING WAS BECAUSE HE MISSED YOU LIKE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK.
The fact you’d reacted so chill had surprised you both. But honestly? That was only because of your crush on him. If it had been any other guy, you’d have dipped so fast your legs would’ve spun cartoon-style.
But, honestly, in all crazy seriousness, like 100% real, RAFE CAMERON JERKING OFF BECAUSE HE MISSED YOU??????? THAT WAS LOWKEY HOT. (THAT ONE FREAKY MINION IN YOUR HEAD WAS TAKING CONTROL A LITTLE TOO LONG HAHAHHAHA HELP.)
Something about it boosted your ego so hard, it actually felt like a compliment, which made you feel fucking insane. Though the question still stood: did he actually think of you while doing it, OR was “missing you” just the trigger??
WJDJSJCJAKKS WHY WERE YOU EVEN THINKING ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW JESUS CHRIST.
You didn’t wanna spiral any deeper before you actually started feeling grossed out when this poor boy probably just had a hard time managing his coke addiction and was now jumping to the next best serotonin boost.
“Shit, how spaced out are you?"
His voice startled you into laughing, and you looked up to see him smiling at you sweetly.
"What about you?" you asked, eyeing the way his gaze lingered on you. "You look more than just 'chilled'."
"That's your effect, baby," he mumbled with his chin resting on his hand.
Butterflies? Zooming through your fucking stomach like they were on speed. And your cheeks heated up a notch as you let out another laugh.
How did he manage to switch between nasty and flirty to sweet and charming in like 3 seconds?
Shit, okay, you know what: Fuck this project.
Right now, everything in you screamed for his closeness and warmth, to be cuddled up to him and feel his arms around you.
The project could wait. And you could easily finish the second collage piece tomorrow before the dinner.
Alright, alright.
Ignoring your second-guessing minion (who had been suspiciously silent all day anyway), you scooted closer to Rafe, shooing him off the bench with a little hand motion.
THIS DUDE CHUCKLED AND LOOKED AT YOUR LIPS (for like the 100th time today HELP) but moved.
"Sexy time now?" he asked with a lazy grin as he stood, leaning on the elevated backrest of the bench.
More like “go seek a therapist” time, but okay.
You scooted off the bench, and because he stood there like Gandalf about to say you shall not pass, you squeezed through the small space between him and the bench, and placed your palms on his warm chest to push him slightly back. "No, we—"
Startled, you cut yourself off as he grabbed both your wrists, pulling a baffled laugh out of you at the way he eyed you so cockily.
WHY WAS THIS SUDDENLY THE MOST SUGGESTIVE THING HE'D DONE ALL DAY OH MY GOD.
Because the way he held onto you—gentle but firm, with that look—did not help the heat spreading south.
"If you say we're taking just a break from work now," he said, voice low, "then I'm considering tying you to bed and forcing you to relax."
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.
THIS WAS...
EVEN WORSE BECAUSE YOU ACTUALLY HAD HANDCUFFS HIDDEN ON THIS YACHT AKA CARA HAD BROUGHT THEM AND INSISTED ON LEAVING THEM HERE BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW.
NO.
NONONONONONO.
Another startled chuckle left your lips, unable to rip your gaze from his insanely beautiful eyes. "Yeah, no, I..." Shit, this kind of closeness made your pulse spike to the stratosphere. "Let's pick up on our bet."
Rafe raised an amused brow, still softly holding onto your wrists. "Why is my girl so shy all of a sudden?"
WHY WOULD HE CALL YOU OUT ON THAT? ACKNOWLEDGING THIS JUST MADE IT ALL THE MORE WORSE, AND WHEN YOU NEEDED HIM THE MOST, YOUR FREAKY-ASS AND BOLD MINION VANISHED LIKE THE FUCKING AVATAR WHAT THE FUCK.
With heated cheeks, you only let out a strained chuckle, melting under Rafe's gaze.
Fuck, those cookies were doing their job a little too well right now, to the point you couldn't even think straight. OR MAYBE THAT WAS JUST FUCKING RAFE BEING SO GODDAMN FLIRTY.
His smile faltered a little, expression sobering up slightly as he let go of your wrists abruptly. "Made you uncomfortable?"
"No!", you blurted out quickly, shaking your head with an awkward smile. Your heart ached at his almost hurt expression. "No, just... my brain's getting adjusted to the cookies, that's all."
Rafe furrowed his brows, fingers reaching out to your bracelet. "You sure your minions are okay? You need to tell me if you start feeling off."
His concern and request for communication warmed your heart (and your kitty) because this boy really upgraded from babbling toddler with anger issues to kid with suppressed anger issues within some days.
You just smiled and shook your head. "It's all good, really."
"Good." His fingers played with a charm on your wrist, eyes searching yours, and honestly, you'd never seen him look so serious and clear-headed before (was bro just acting high???). "Promise, you're gonna tell me the moment some fucker in your head decides to talk shit."
A sweet chuckle left your lips. "Rafe, don't worry, it's--"
"Y/n." His voice was low. "Those ain't the black-out-on-a-couch cookies. These are the locked-in, racing thoughts kind. Shit's really not to be messed with."
You blinked at his insistent, ALMOST DOMINANT TONE, FUCK (ME). Because Rafe fucking "I have a temper, don't piss me off, I hate everyone" Cameron suddenly being so caring and PROTECTIVE?
More than anything, it made you feel... safe.
Horny for this fucking guy, yes absolutely, but him showing true attentiveness toward your wellbeing was probably more intimate than he was aware of. This didn't just mean he looked out for you, it meant he was taking your overthinking seriously and was well aware of what a risk the edibles were for your head.
And with this right here, he basically offered you full safety and trust that you'd be secure with him.
GOSH, HOW BADLY YOU WANTED TO DRAG HIM TO THE COUCH NOW AND CUDDLE WITH THIS BOY.
Ha.
What's stopping you???????
Roundhouse-kicking that stupid second-guessing minion who dared to resurface, you reached for Rafe’s hand and properly interlaced your fingers with his, smiling softly.
"I promise", you said, feeling your nerves buzz at this close proximity and his insanely good-smelling cologne, "that I'm gonna inform you as soon as I feel any discomfort, anxiety or whatever." You raised your brows at him, firmly. "If you do the same. I don't need you eating up your panic just because you're too cool to show it."
Rafe's face relaxed, nodding. "Promise."
Oh. Wow. That was... surprising.
You'd expected him to get all cocky, throwing some flirty comment at you like, "Aww, my girl's worried about me" or some suggestive shit like "Only thing I'll panic about is which position I'll take you in tonight", like--
DUDE THAT RAFE MINION IN YOUR HEAD WAS GETTING TOO ACCURATE HELP.
Anyway, good thoughts :))))
"Good", you said, your smile twisting to a grin. "So, a little birdie told me my boy's receiving a makeover tonight."
Rafe shook his head, deadpan. "No."
You laughed. "What? We had a deal."
"I know." His thumb brushed over your knuckles. "You'll get your makeover but first, I'm deciding on some bonding time."
Another chuckle left your lips. "That comes afterward. First, I'm gonna pretty you up."
"Wow. Am I not pretty yet?"
"You are but--"
"Aight, that's enough." Rafe's fingers slipped from yours and for a second you thought his patience actually snapped into another little temper lash-out but instead he--
"RAFE!", you shrieked while your hands immediately flew to his neck for balance as he picked you up from the floor in bridal style—one hand steady on your back, the other under your thighs.
And this fucker just smiled half-lidded, a cocky glimmer in his stupidly pretty eyes. His face was way too close to yours HELP.
"Where's the bedroom?"
You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at the low tone in his voice. "What."
WAS HE ABOUT TO--
"Fucking shit, I'm not gonna have sex with you now", he scoffed, amused. "I just need a little break and watch some TV or some shit to prepare my mind for torture. Then you can butcher my face with whatever girl shit you want. Deal?"
Most dramatic boy on earth.
"Torture?" You chuckled, holding tight onto his neck AND TRYING TO IGNORE THE HEAT IN YOUR WHOLE BODY AT RAFE'S HANDS ON YOU.
He frowned. "Stop deflecting. Where's the bedroom?"
“Why’s it gotta be the bedroom?”
"My beautiful girl", he started, smiling strained (definitely one second away from jumping off the yacht with you), "I'm so close to crashing the fuck out if I don't have you pressed against me in the next five minutes."
I'M nOt CliNgy Rafe Cameron.
"I am pressed against you right now", you countered, suppressing a laugh at his deadpan expression.
Rafe's half-lidded eyes landed on your lips, his voice a little too serious for it to be a joke. "Yeah, and I'm so close to doing something stupid."
ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM.
SOMEHOW YOUR WHOLE FOCUS WAS BROUGHT TO HIGH ALERT AT THESE WORDS BECAUSE NONONONONONO.
LIKE YES, GOD FUCKING YES BUT AHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
You'd already panicked earlier when he'd pulled you closer by the hips after his little tearing up over your setup, AND YOU WERE SO SURE HE WANTED TO KISS YOU BY THE LOOKS OF IT. You had just barely managed to curve it into something not awkward—hell, for your standards, you’d handled it pretty well.
But kissing Rafe?
Your heart screamed for this guy so badly but your head told you it would make everything worse, more complicated, more pressure, and—worst of all—it would open the insanely awkward question of: What are we?
And this was a step you didn't wanna tackle just nine days after being properly introduced to him. You just weren't ready for what possibly came after. Or for the heartbreak that would follow if nothing followed and—
"You're panicking."
A startled laugh left your lips. DEFLECT DEFLECT DEFLECT.
“We could… get cozy in the main saloon,” you suggested, trying your absolute best to sound like a normal person. As if you hadn’t just spiraled into an existential meltdown in the arms of the boy you wanted to kiss more than anything, but definitely not right now, not like this, and—
"Okay", he said, his voice surprisingly soft despite you kinda rejecting him again for the THIRD time today HELP.
WHICH. Calling it a rejection WOULD MEAN YOU JUST FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGED HE WANTED YOU. LIKE YES YOU KNEW THIS GUY WAS HORNY, APPARENTLY FOR YOU, BUT RIGHT NOW IT FELT MORE INTIMATE AND VULNERABLE LIKE HE MAY ACTUALLY HAVE FALLEN FOR—
"That's it", he said, ripping you straight out of your spiral while he adjusted his grip on you. A deep scowl was plastered on his face. "Couch. Now. I can see you're one second away from some shitty-ass spiral."
A baffled laugh escaped you as he turned around and headed straight toward the main salon doors. With a swoosh motion they automatically opened. Rafe carried you to the large couch full of plushies and fluffy Star Wars blankets.
Carefully he set you down on the widest side and threw a blanket in your face. "Cozy up." Then he sat down next to you and grabbed the last wrapped gift from the table, eyeing you with a raised brow. "I'll open it now and then we're gonna tangle up, alright?"
UMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.
Could someone please remind you, why you’d made this again ahahahahha? Oh right, that was kinda Cara's fault.
Fuck.
You let out a strained breath, smiling. "Yeah, no, let's not."
"Seriously, what is in there?" He shook the gift slightly, holding his ear to the rattling sound. "Cologne?"
WORSE.
Still, you managed a sheepish chuckle. "No, I like the one you're using."
AND I OOP--
“My girl likes my smell?” He shifted his gaze to you, one brow raised in amusement.
"Yeah", you said, leaning back again. "It has a dominant touch to it. Not 'I put three cans of Axe on me', more like... refreshing and clean. Or well, y'know, it mixes nicely with your body's scent, like it kinda adapts to it."
And it drives me FUCKING CRAZY and why the fuck did I just analyze his cologne AND BABBLED ABOUT HIS BODY'S SCENT like some fucking creep HELP. Suddenly, you felt very chatty.
"Good to know." Rafe let out a low chuckle, twisting the wrapped gift in his hands while his eyes stayed locked onto yours. "I like yours as well. Very addicting."
DUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE. FUCKING HELL.
RAFE ADMITTING HE FOUND YOUR PERFUME ADDICTING? MADE YOUR ALREADY WARM CHEEKS JUST HEAT UP A LITTLE MORE AND YOUR NERVES TINGLE LIKE FUCKING CRAZY UNDER YOUR SKIN HAHAHAHHA.
"Which is why", he said, holding the gift up with raised brows, "I'm gonna open this shit now, and then I'll bury my head in your neck." A sweet smile appeared on his lips. "Sound good, Beautiful?"
MORE THAN GOOD.
You laughed, heart warming at the way he felt so comfortable voicing out loud that he wanted to be close to you like that. Usually, he only mentioned 'bonding time' or wanting to have you pressed against him but THIS WAS SOMETHING ELSE AHHHHH.
“I’d like that,” you said with a smile, tugged the Star Wars blanket over your legs and finally let yourself feel the cookie kick in for real. “But after this, it’s makeover time. You’re not getting out of it.”
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he turned his attention back to the gift. "Still believe there's a pocket pussy in there."
To be honest... it’s worse.
"Would probably serve your horny ass well," you replied, fidgeting with your bracelet. "But no, it’s more… personal?"
Rafe tugged at the first strip of golden tape, giggling (HIM FUCKING GIGGLING WAS SO SWEET AND PRECIOUS IT MADE YOU DIE ON THE SPOT—ahem anyway). “Why does my baby sound so uncertain?” He paused, eyes gleaming as they flicked up to yours. “Is it a framed nude?”
UMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. Actually…
A nervous laugh left your lips, gesturing to the still fully wrapped gift with a hand wave. "Just open it and don’t say anything weird."
For a moment, Rafe gave you a confused look, then tore that shit open like a rabid dog in 0.002 seconds. He fumbled, trying to find the right angle to really look at it, and you could see his brain processing what he held in his hands and then—
—he burst out laughing. Hard. Like the biggest laughing fit you’d ever seen from him.
A sound so genuine, so boyish and raw, it made your whole body melt on the spot. The way his face softened, his features open and real, his head tilted slightly back—god, you just fell a little harder right then and there.
Rafe didn’t laugh often. Not really. Sure, he had his usual amused scoffs and smirks, sometimes a chuckle, and he even had a particular dry laugh reserved for Topper and Kelce, but even that one was more forced than genuine.
But this? A full-on laughing fit because of YOU.
Fuck, never in your life had you felt so proud of something. Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with his reaction.
And all because of a little FunkoPop-You standing in its plastic box, dressed in lingerie with your name printed on the side. Cara’s idea of Polaroid nudes had sparked this when you spotted a custom FunkoPop sign at some store, and well… as intimate as it was, you also knew it would be fucking hilarious.
“It’s custom made,” you explained, grinning, the high washing away every ounce of hesitation or embarrassment you’d felt about this gift.
Rafe’s eyes finally met yours, gleaming with cockiness and amusement. "Yeah? Guess you gotta show me now so I can verify."
Now it was you laughing, cheeks warming in the best way possible.
"Well, it’s slightly adjusted," you said, scooting closer with the blanket still on your lap so you were right beside him, pointing at the little plastic window. "The lingerie’s just painted on. It was originally a bikini."
Then you looked up into his half-lidded eyes, your smile matching his lazy grin (YOUR FACES WERE SO FUCKING CLOSE). "But I guess this one’s more convincing for our act, right?"
DMEKWCNFEJKNCFJEKDNEJ THIS MOTHERFUCKER WAS STARING DREAMILY AT YOUR LIPS HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
"Right," he murmured, eyes lingering on your mouth for a beat longer before lowering back to the gift with a sly grin. "Better than an actual nude. This one I can actually put to use." He pointed at Mini-You’s waving hand, then made a jerking-off motion.
THIS MAN WAS THE NASTIEST PERSON ALIVE.
Without thinking, you blurted out: "Your pee-pee must be tiny then."
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
WHY DID YOU SAY THAT. WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SAY THAT?!
Rafe blinked at you—then broke out into another laughing fit, and for some reason YOU LAUGHED TOO? Like, these edibles were working overtime. All your anxiety minions? KO’d. (For real this time.)
“My fucking what?” he snorted once he calmed down, clearly trying not to crack up again. “‘Cock’ or ‘dick’ works just fine, y’know. And my so-called tiny ‘pee-pee’ is still big enough to do the job. No need to worry, Baby.”
You just chuckled in response, cheeks hot and nerves buzzing (okay, so maybe the minions weren’t entirely knocked out) but nope, you were not about to get dragged into an actual dick convo right now.
“So… bonding time?” you asked instead, pulling off the smoothest deflection (not smooth at all).
And the way Rafe’s eyes lit up was answer enough. This convo was over and you were safely steering back into comfortable territory.
He set the FunkoPop box on the table, turning it so it faced him, then looked at you, practically glowing like a pregnant woman, and nodded toward the wider side of the couch. "Move your pretty ass over there."
YES, SIR.
You didn’t hesitate for even a second, scooting back to where he’d originally dropped you off. Leaning against the soft backrest, you smiled lazily at him and held open the blanket.
Rafe snatched the TV remote and two Switch controllers from the lower shelf like he was The Flash, tossed them onto the couch, and slid under the blanket with you.
A startled chuckle slipped out of you as he tugged you closer by the waist, his right arm wrapping snugly around you, leaving basically zero room for space.
Obviously, you didn’t mind HIHIHIHI.
"Fuck, you really do smell good," he muttered suddenly, and before you could even process it, THIS DUDE PRESSED YOU FULLY AGAINST HIM, HIS OTHER ARM JOINING THE FIRST ON YOUR WAIST, AND HE ACTUALLY SANK LOWER TO BURY HIS FACE IN YOUR NECK.
OH.
MY.
GOD.
Your arms were awkwardly pinned against his chest, but it didn’t matter—not when joy and warmth flooded your entire body in a way that made you forget everything else.
"What’s this?" you dared to ask with a chuckle, overwhelmed by how sudden and intense it was.
LIKE HE’D ACTUALLY MEANT IT WHEN HE SAID HE WANTED TO BURY HIS FACE IN YOUR NECK.
Rafe inhaled deeply against your skin and you froze as he let out a low groan (EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?—your vajayjay did the thing).
You laughed, sheepish and way too turned on by THIS SPECIFIC SOUND RIGHT IN YOUR EAR. "Rafe…"
“Hm?” he mumbled against your neck, goosebumps exploding over your skin as his nose and mouth brushed against it.
JESUS. FUCKING. CHRIST.
That made a different kind of heat rise, and since you were nowhere near prepared for whatever could follow this, a shaky breath escaped you. “What are you doing?”
That made him freeze for a good five seconds. Then slowly, he pulled back, straightened up with a deadpan face, rubbed his nose like he’d just snorted a line, and folded his hands in his lap like a dainty little princess.
He cleared his throat and nodded solemnly while staring straight ahead. "So… Mario Kart, you said."
King of deflections.
You just eyed him, startled, your voice amused as you asked, "What was—"
"Shit, I smelt your perfume and kinda lost it," he muttered, turning his head toward you with the SHEEPIEST EXPRESSION EVER. "It’s the edibles. Make everything more intense, y’know."
A laugh escaped you. "Right..."
"It’s the truth," he said, frowning, cheeks pink. "Heightens the senses and shit, this that."
"Sure."
"I swear."
You chuckled, nodding. "It’s fine, I believe you."
"Yeah, okay, alright, just wanna feel you close," he admitted with a scowl, eyes fixed on the bracelet in his hands. "Waited the whole fucking day for this." Then he looked up. "Did I panic your minions?"
God, your heart melted. Because ME TOO, BOY. IF YOU ONLY KNEW.
"No, minions are okay," you said softly, smiling at his worry. "They just thought you were about to devour me like some rabid werewolf."
His cocky grin finally returned. "Oh, baby, I’d love nothing more than that. But best not push my luck." He handed you a controller. "Here. Let’s play some shitty-ass game first before we consider collars and leashes."
Immediate PTSD at the mention of leashes. You were instantly thrown back to your video call with Cara on Sunday morning, post-JJ-night, when a way-too-serious joke about that shit got dropped.
ANYWAY.
Brain off. FOR REAL NOW. IT CAN’T BE THAT HARD. (Just that it was actually very hard, because your thoughts were flying everywhere but too quick to hold on to, so they basically canceled each other out.)
"Alright." With the controller in hand, you sat up straighter and scooted back into his side, waiting for him to turn the TV on.
"No," Rafe said firmly, almost offended, and gestured between you. "Does this look like boyfriend and girlfriend to you?"
Dude. Not even real actors committed this hard.
You let out an amused breath, and before you could protest about wanting to finally play, Rafe draped his right arm around your shoulders, nudged you against his chest, and rested his elbow right at the side of your neck.
WHICH MEANT. HIS ARM WAS NOW VERY CLOSE TO YOUR LEFT BOOB—aka the space between your collarbone and chest—and his hand connected with the controller against your upper arm.
WHICH ALSO MEANT: HE WAS BASICALLY HOLDING YOU IN A SOFT CHOKEHOLD WITH HIS BICEP AS YOUR NECK PILLOW AHHHHHHHHHH.
I’m cool. I’m fine. I—
Am.
Wow. I am.
You actually felt completely relaxed and content in this position. It was your most “couple-ish” pose yet, and… it felt AMAZING.
Ha. Maybe you should start eating edibles or smoking a joint regularly. HAHAHAHA JUST KIDDING (unless?).
"That okay with—"
"Yes, let’s just play."
Rafe snorted. "Aight."
And so you did. For the next whole hour you played through a few Mario Kart cups which—FUNNY ENOUGH—Rafe somehow nearly all won.
Ha. Ha.
Weird how he was suddenly way better at this game stoned out of his mind—slowed reflexes and all—than last night when he was SOBER (and btw this fake dating thing hadn’t even hit the 24-hour mark yet WHAT THE FUCK).
So… yeah.
That dude had definitely let you win.
Which was both sweet and confusing. Either he didn’t like the thought of you losing in general, OR he wanted you to win so you’d do his makeup. Which raised new questions.
Did he actually want to get prettied up? Like, was he exploring his masculinity here? Curious? He’d probably seen Wheezie or Sarah—or even Kie—do theirs at Tannyhill. Maybe he’d always wanted to try but never said anything?
…
Yeah, nah. No way.
This was just about you pampering him like the prince—or king, in his case—he thought he was.
And, of course, about you touching him. Obviously.
This man chased physical contact like his life depended on it. Of course, he wasn’t gonna let a chance slip, even if it meant being the main focus of some “shitty-ass girl activity.”
Rafe Cameron, I finally got you figured out. Edibles really were enlightenment pills.
Ah, speaking of edibles—you thought you’d already peaked?
NOPE.
Within that hour, BOTH you and Rafe got way more giggly and chatty. You barely even paid attention to the races because your conversation was just spiraling all over the place.
Like, you were jumping from topic to topic at light speed. One second it was school, the next Rafe was explaining the entire lore of fucking Sonic (which, by the way, was batshit insane—“Yeah nah but not that deep into that shit,” he claimed after dumping a ten-minute YouTube essay at you, VERBALLY).
Then you both ranted about the whole Ruthie situation, until you randomly stopped mid-sentence just to switch the red LED lights to a soft orange because the vibe was getting too overstimulating.
Then you both forgot where you’d left off and Rafe started rambling about why he despised turtlenecks: "Shit’s itchy and ugly, and feels so suffocating, y’know? Like I’m imprisoned in my own fucking body and shit." (Yeah, he got all deep and poetic about it.)
And then FOR SOME REASON you joked about how you kinda got it because it reminded you of uncircumcised dick—"Like when you pull the foreskin back"—and Rafe fucking lost it so hard he was crying from laughing, his stomach hurting, which—because of your position—made his chokehold tighten accidentally and you kinda had your first choking experience (jk he loosened quickly and apologized).
But MAN. That kinda… Y’KNOW.
Again, no fucking clue WHY THE FUCK YOU'D SAID THAT, but you were too distracted by Rafe literally dying from laughter next to you to even care.
“Shit, what the fuck,” he finally managed to say once he got a grip, wiping tears from his eyes as he sat back up and unpaused the game. This time he just leaned his shoulder against yours. “How the fuck would you even know?”
Um.
An awkward laugh slipped past your lips as a sudden rush of hyper-focus hit you—winning this last race was now your entire personality. “Dunno. I just blurted it out for no reason.”
“These edibles really aren’t doing your fucked-up brain and your fuckass minions any favors,” he said, chuckling. “Turn you into an even bigger weirdo.”
You smiled sheepishly, eyes glued to the track. “I’d argue they’re boosting my creativity but okay.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” he replied with an amused scoff, sliding further down in his seat. Then he randomly followed up with THIS: “Would you mind if it was?”
MOM, PLEASE PICK ME UP. I’M SCARED.
“If what was?” you asked slowly, gaze VERY MUCH LOCKED ON THE SCREEN, KNOWING DAMN WELL WHAT HE MEANT, HELP.
“A circumcised dick,” Rafe replied, way too casual for this conversation. “Would you mind it?”
BRO THIS WAS NOT A QUESTION TO ASK YOUR FAKE GIRLFRIEND LIKE HELPPPPPPP. AND WHY DID THE PUZZLE PIECES ABOUT HIS COCK START TO FORM AN IMAGE IN YOUR BRAIN, BECAUSE YOU KNEW HIS POTENTIAL THICKNESS AND NOW THIS, OH MY FUCKING GOD.
Heat spread through your chest and up your neck, and the controller in your hands suddenly felt like it might slip away at any second with how clammy your palms were.
You only managed a short, strained laugh and, because apparently edibles had fried your brain into being a total weirdo, you said, “Would you?”
“Aww, shit, no,” Rafe whined, smacking you with a blue shell from his 10th place (RUDE). “My girl’s got a boy dick?”
THANK GOD HE ATE THAT DEFLECTION UP. (He probably just noticed your discomfort like he always did and played along, but hey, I’LL TAKE IT).
A laugh escaped you as you fought to keep your 1st place. “More like a girl dick.” You snagged an item box mid-curve. “Besides, a true couple matches in every area of life.”
“Yeah, well, too bad for you, I’d still bend you over,” he shot back, somehow climbing the ranks fast.
You snorted, activating the triple banana shells. “Who says I wouldn’t be the one bending you over with my girl dick?”
“Okay, how big is yours?”
“Seven.”
“Seven what?”
“Feet.”
Rafe scoffed, amused, smacking one of your bananas with a red shell (HOW THE FUCK DID HE MAKE IT TO 2ND PLACE ALREADY). “Yeah, no thanks. Makes way more sense if I’m topping. You’d rip my whole asshole apart.”
“I could give you a little bit of mine,” you chuckled, dropping another banana behind you in hopes Rafe’s kart would slip. “Sharing is caring.”
Of course, he dodged and got even closer with his fucking mushroom boost. “Nah, keep it. I’m very content with my own seven.”
You laughed, focused on nailing the drift. “Seven dicks?”
“Inches.”
Your kart slammed straight into the wall.
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.
SEVEN INCHES WITH THAT KIND OF THICKNESS?!?!?!?!
MAMMA. FUCKING. MIA.
He had to be bullshitting. No way. Like, in all honesty, no fucking way Rafe Cameron was above average, right??? Sure, his ego was huge, but… seven inches??? ESPECIALLY IF IN SOFT MODE?!?!??!?!
Yeah, no. NO SEX WITH HIM EVER.
“You good?” Rafe scoffed as his kart crossed the finish line.
NO.
You nodded quickly, trying to regain your composure, turning your kart back on track just in time to crawl in at 9th place (yay…).
Immediately after, the post-race winner sequence played on the screen.
“You don’t look good.” He gently took the controller from your hands, set it aside, and started playing with the key charm on your bracelet, his voice low and amused. “My girl scared it won’t fit?”
For some reason, that contact and the tone of his voice made you bolt upright from the couch, nearly making you trip on the blanket you dragged with you. You caught yourself on the edge of the couch, smiling way too strained as you straightened up.
Rafe’s face went pale. “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t—”
“No, no, it’s…” You exhaled shakily, suddenly hyper-aware of your racing heart, your buzzing veins, your foggy-yet-clear brain, and the flood of thoughts slamming into you: dicks, Rafe’s maybe-BIG dick, the heat pooling between your legs, the way his lips brushed your neck earlier, how everything tonight kept edging toward sex, the fact you’d be sleeping in the same bed, HOW THIS COULD ACTUALLY END IN SEX, WITH RAFE TAKING YOUR VIRGINITY—
—only for your brain to slam down with the cruelest thought of all:
That you’d just be another hookup. Fucked once or twice if you let him, then tossed aside for the next girl dumb enough to get attached.
Rafe stood too, big blue eyes full of soft concern. “Is everything—”
“I need air.”
Without waiting, you turned and headed straight for the salon doors.
Outside on the aft deck, you gulped down the salty night air, arms wrapping tight around yourself as the cold breeze hit. The clear sky above barely mattered; the crash inside your head was too loud. Your breaths grew sharper, shallower.
Chills crept up your spine as you became hyper-aware of everything: the pounding of your heart, the buzzing in your veins, the weight in your limbs, how slow your reflexes felt. Your mind seemed both clouded and blindingly sharp at the same time.
You knew this feeling.
Your chest, heavy. The dizziness building. The edges of your vision softening.
And the awareness that you were about to have your second fucking panic attack in twenty-four hours.
Or worse. That the suffocation in your chest would swell until it snapped something inside you—
“You okay?”
Your breath hitched as Rafe’s voice ripped you out of your spiral for a split second, but the mess didn’t vanish. It just tangled tighter.
You turned, and his face—gentle, worried, and terrified all at once—made guilt slam through you, hot and choking, right on top of the panic.
He’d told you your first panic attack still had him in a chokehold. Now here you were, about to make him watch another one, bigger than before.
And somehow, in the chaos of your chest and his panicked expression, you blurted out, "Are we gonna have sex tonight?"
The words hung there, wrong and heavy.
Rafe blinked. Completely startled. "What?"
“Is this ending in sex tonight?” you repeated, firmer this time, your arms trembling from the cold.
His frown deepened. He took a step closer, hand lifting toward you. "You’re fucking freezing. Let’s get back inside."
You stepped back, gaze locked on him. "Answer the question."
His hand dropped to his side and his expression shifted—confusion, hurt, something else—before finally settling into something hollow. "No."
Both relief and disappointment rushed through you at once.
“Why?” he asked, his voice soft but pained. “You think I can’t spend the night at a girl’s place without trying to sleep with her?”
The blood drained from your face. You shook your head fast, taking a step toward him. “What? No, I just—”
“I’m here because I value you, alright?” he cut in, sharp but bitter. “Probably more than anyone else right now." His jaw clenched, irritation flashing in his eyes. “And I respect you way too fucking much to just sit through some girly sleepover, take your virginity, and call it a night.” He tapped his chest, his strained smile so painful it twisted your gut. “I thought I made that clear.”
You nodded fast, throat tight, realization crashing over you at how deeply you’d just hurt him. "You did. Rafe, it’s just—"
"Just that you still don’t believe me," he cut in, exhaustion leaking through every word. “And I have to repeat this shit every. Single. Fucking. Day."
He dragged a hand through his hair, shoulders tense, eyes burning with frustration. And for the first time you saw it—not just frustration with the moment, but with the weight of you. Your friendship. Everything.
The panic spiked again. Had your overthinking just ruined what you’d built in the last few days?
Had you just—
"And I’d repeat it every minute," he said, quieter now, "if it meant giving you the reassurance you needed to feel secure in this relationship."
You froze.
The breath stalled in your lungs, everything in you stuttering to a halt.
Of all the outcomes you’d braced for—anger, frustration, being told you were exhausting—you hadn’t expected that.
And maybe that was the problem.
"Shit, I’m sorry," you said quietly, arms tightening around yourself. Not sure if you were trying to block out the wind or keep yourself from falling apart. Your heartbeat tripped over itself, torn between the panic, the chemicals in your system, and the weight of what he’d just said.
Rafe exhaled softly, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize for this.”
“I do.” You stepped closer until you stood right in front of him, brows furrowed. “My overthinking isn’t a cute quirk I get to hide behind whenever I hurt people. It’s not just… silly minions running around my head.” Your throat tightened, your eyes stinging.
“It’s a real issue that causes distress. To me. To people around me. It makes me question everything, no matter how solid the facts are.” Your lips trembled as his earlier look flashed in your mind. “And I need you to understand… this part of me isn’t going away. Ever. This will always be an issue. In every relationship I have. Friendship. Romance. Whatever—”
Your breath hitched when his hand cupped your cheek. Warm. Steady. His thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized slipped free.
“It’s not an issue in this one, alright?” His voice was warm, his smile soft, like he knew exactly what you meant (he definitely didn’t). “Whether you’re my friend, my fake girlfriend—shit, even if you were my real girl—it wouldn’t matter. Yeah, sometimes it pisses me off. But more than that, it pisses me off that you’re struggling."
His hand drifted down to your neck, thumb tracing slow circles that made shivers crawl through you. "And I’d rather explain myself a billion times than lose you because you think it bothers me."
His eyes held yours, unflinching. "When in reality, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years."
Your body stilled. Your mind silenced.
You didn’t even know what to say. It felt like if you blinked, you’d wake up from this dream.
“And your overthinking isn’t a flaw,” he added, his other hand rising to the other side of your neck, grounding you in a way nothing ever had. “It’s like…” His face scrunched in concentration, clearly thinking hard. “Like a skill that hasn’t leveled up yet. Y’know that loser fish Magikarp from Pokémon? Bro can’t do shit at the start. But the more he trains, he evolves into big-ass Gyarados.”
…What the fuck.
Just. What the fuck.
"This is literally the worst comparison you could’ve made right now," you said flatly, your whole brain just resetting. "I’m not even sure it makes sense."
And then—unexpectedly—you laughed. It broke out of you fast, shaky, but real.
Until both his hands cupped your cheeks again, pulling your gaze back to his. His eyes—soft, intense, pupils blown wide—held you like a trap.
“What I’m saying is, it’s not an issue,” he said, voice steady now. “You see shit faster than me. You connect dots I don’t even notice. You came up with a fix for the Ruthie mess on the spot."
He shook his head, eyes burning into you. "So maybe stop treating the thoughts as a threat to the facts. See them as alternatives. Ways to cross doubts off the list by comparing them with reality. Because at the end of the day, you’ll never know what’s true except for the cold hard facts.”
You searched his eyes uncertainly. “And how do I know which thoughts to believe in?”
“By trusting your gut,” he said simply, his hands finally falling away, leaving you hollow. He gestured to his temples. “What do you think cavemen did, huh? Those fuckers grunted ‘uga uga’ and trusted their instincts, because they sure as hell weren’t using their brains."
He tapped your forehead lightly. "So next time the minions start running laps, you smash their brains in with a rock and teabag their corpses. Then you trust your gut because that shit? It’s always right."
…Dude.
"You just compared me to a loser fish and an idiot caveman in under two minutes," you chuckled, reaching absentmindedly for his bracelet. "Not sure that’s how you get the girl."
Rafe’s gaze stayed locked on you. "Let’s test it."
“What?”
“Do you think I’m just here for sex?”
You blinked, caught off guard, then answered instinctively. “No.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
"Yes."
"No, you don’t."
Your fumbling with his bracelet stopped. "Sorry?"
Rafe nodded. "Yeah, how do you know that?"
Uh. "Because you told me and I trust your word."
"How do you know I didn’t lie just to get you in bed later?" he asked, pulling his wrist away from your touch. His gaze was completely neutral, almost unsettling.
And somehow… this did indeed make some doubts stir up. Sure, he just said he’d test you but—
"You’re doing it again," he cut in firmly, tapping his own temples. "Letting those minions run around in circles."
You pressed your lips together. He was right.
"I know you didn’t lie because you’d be an idiot if you kept up with my shit just to sleep with me," you said, finally.
But Rafe just shrugged. "Maybe I’m a very desperate idiot then."
"That you are for sure," you chuckled, feeling relief wash over you as you saw his firm expression crack into a soft smile.
"So what? You’re basing everything on an assumption," he said, brow raised, lips tugging into a crooked frown. "Seems like a weak argument."
Why was HE of all people playing therapist now?
You exhaled heavily, then nodded. "Okay, yeah, I feel it in my gut. Happy?" Your fingers found the charms on his bracelet again, eyes locked on his. "I feel that I’m worth more to you than a mere potential hookup. I feel you must like me, that you value me and my presence, that you enjoy spending time with me. Not just because you said it but because I feel it in the way you keep forcing yourself to be patient with me even though you must really wanna push me off the yacht right now."
And my gut also tells me, you must like me more than just friends, because this wasn’t just I enjoy your company clingy anymore, it was I desperately need you close to me clingy.
But that was a thought you didn’t dare voice out loud.
Rafe’s fingers reached out, his warm hand taking yours. A sweet chuckle left his lips. "I do. For doubting my intentions when I had a huge gooning session before this just to enjoy the time without any unwanted interruptions. Just for you." He sighed dramatically (where’s his Oscar?). "Isn’t that true love?"
This guy was so fucking nasty and sick in his head.
And yet, the straight fact he felt so comfortable and secure with you to even admit this shit out loud—FOR LIKE THE SIXTH TIME TODAY—was both the grossest and sweetest shit ever. And the worst part, it wasn’t even the edibles talking because right now… the image of him in his bed, groaning and—
The question came up again. And this time there was no restraint to hold it back.
“Depends,” you said, adrenaline shooting through your veins at the possible answer. “It’s only true love if there’s no other girl in your head while doing it, right?”
GIRLLLLLLLLLL.
Then you quickly shook your head, and let out a shaky chuckle. "You know what, don’t answer that."
…
He didn’t need to because his lazy smile was response enough.
“Bold of you to assume I think at all when I do this shit,” he said, and your internal screaming immediately stilled at this surprisingly good answer. THANK GOD. “But,”—BUT!??!?!?!!?!?—“a good boyfriend would, of course, think of his beautiful girl while doing it.”
THIS WAS FUCKING SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT BECAUSE DID HE NOW IMPLY HE DID INDEED THINK ABOUT YOU BECAUSE YOU WERE HIS GIRL—well, fake girl, but Rafe used the act as an excuse for closure more often than not—OR WAS HE JUST IMPLYING THAT YES, IF HE HAD A REAL GIRLFRIEND THEN THAT WAS THE CASE?????
So… till you didn’t open the box and find out, BOTH ANSWERS WERE TRUE.
Nope. Not asking further. You had enough of cocks, sex, sex scenarios, COCKS, and Rafe talking about jerking his shit, OR RAFE’S POSSIBLE SEVEN-INCH COCK???? for one day.
Yeah, perfect thoughts to not slip into a horror trip :)))))))
"And because I’m a good boyfriend," he continued, his hands wandering up to your upper arms. "I’m getting you back inside. Don’t need my baby catching a cold."
Oh shit he was right. Just now you realized how cold your hands and nose had gotten. NOW was actually the perfect time for cozy cuddles.
Right as you and Rafe turned to head back into the main salon, loud yowling erupted from the outdoor kitchen counter as you passed it.
Rafe—your brave boyfriend—shrieked and jumped to the side, letting go of your hand.
"Fuckass Taco cat," he cursed with a grimace.
You laughed and patted Nacho’s head. "Hi, baby, how did you get up here, hm?"
Oh wait. You hadn’t pulled in the side stairs. Oopsie.
"Fucker probably came here to scratch my eyes out." Rafe finally stepped closer, letting your cat sniff at his hand. Nacho immediately rubbed against him, purring like you didn’t stand right there.
Something warm spread inside your chest at the sight, and how soft Rafe was with Nacho despite him claiming to hate cats.
"Nah. He likes you. He slept on your hoodie the whole night," you said. "Or well, on me."
Rafe looked up. "This dude gets to sleep on my girl’s tits but I don’t? That’s insane. No, wait, that’s cheating."
"Cheating?" A baffled laugh escaped your lips. "He’s a cat."
"That’s what he wants you to think," Rafe replied, going back to patting Nacho’s butt as if he were a dog. "I bet he’s like that ugly stinky rat from one of the Harry Potter movies."
You snorted. "Peter Pettigrew?"
"Whatever that fucker’s name was." Rafe narrowed his eyes, leaning forward and eyeing Nacho as if he was waiting for him to actually turn into a human. "But one day you’ll wake up with a greasy man in your bed. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."
This guy? Actually insane. Not just nasty and sick. Actually mentally insane.
Another laugh slipped past your lips and you scratched Nacho under his jaw. "No, I bet my baby would be a pretty boy. Right?" You chuckled, as Nacho purred loudly in response. "And a good one on top of that."
Which reminded you…
You held your finger up. "Sit." Nacho obeyed. You chuckled, patting his head, then in your sweetest voice, you said, "Good boy."
Nacho meowed happily in response.
Then you waited. And waiiiiited. And waiiiited.
And.
"I might need five minutes in the bathroom now."
You burst out laughing, your hand flying to your mouth at Rafe’s dramatically suffering expression. "You for real?"
A deep scowl answered, his cheeks flushed pink. "You can’t say shit like this and expect me not to react."
"I didn’t think you’d actually… get hard from this," you replied, way too amused to be grossed out. And for a second, your eyes actually flickered to his crotch, and either it was your mind wanting to see things, but if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, there was indeed a very subtle bulge that hadn’t been there before.
HELP THIS WAS SO FUNNY YET SO WEIRD YET SO…
Hot.
Like… you hadn’t even touched him but just by your voice you’d given him A FREAKING BONER OH MY GOD. And this after he’d claimed he’d specifically jerked off for this to not happen.
"So you said this intentionally?" Suddenly Rafe’s scowl twisted into a lazy grin. "Yeah, well, guess that means you gotta get rid of it now."
You blinked.
"Shit, I’m joking, relax." He gestured toward the main salon, exhaling as if he’d just come home from war (my poor soldier). "Let’s just get back inside and wait this out."
You nodded, not wanting him to actually feel embarrassed. "Yeah, I’d say it’s finally time for a makeover."
"Fuck, no. Absolutely not." Rafe picked up Nacho from the counter, holding him under his arm like a fucking watermelon (almost as if to shield you from him) and pointed to you with his other hand, almost accusingly. "No touching for the next ten minutes."
Geez.
But for some reason, the idea of him putting this space between you, and NOT using this chance to actually get you close WAS SO FUCKING HOT AND RESPECTFUL AND IT CERTAINLY DIDN’T HELP YOUR OWN FUCKING HEAT BETWEEN YOUR LEGS.
Okay. Yes. A ten-minute break it was.
:)
Back where it was warm, you settled onto the couch again. This time, with like three feet of space between you. Nacho was happily loafed in the middle of your shared blanket (Rafe insisted you at least stayed connected through this), while some playlist of his played from the big speakers next to the TV.
You two decided on a little more chill activity to bridge over his… situation. And because Rafe had suggested eating another cookie, you quickly shut that absolutely insanely stupid idea down ("Are you fucking stupid?"—"If your name is stupid and the answer is later, then yes." Impossible this guy), and suggested drawing.
"Drawing?" Rafe blinked at you like you just threw up a clown. "Shit, Baby, do I look like a toddler to you?"
You hadn’t even listened to his whining, picked up your iPad from the table where you’d worked on your project, forced him to help you pack your project back into some box, and now you sat across from him with your legs pulled up and had Procreate open.
You rolled up the sleeves of Rafe’s hoodie—a new one he’d initially brought for himself but now it belonged to you—and laughed at his grimace.
"Relax a little," you said, choosing the right brush for this. (You’d decided you’d be drawing quick fifteen-minute portraits of each other).
Rafe exhaled dramatically through his nose. "Relax? I’m suffering here. And you looking so fucking gorgeous in my hoodie doesn’t help my situation."
Warmth spread across your cheeks because AKJDEWKDWJFWLE.
"But," he continued, grinning, "makes you look like mine, so worth it."
BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Good thing you two hadn’t promised not to throw mixed signals in this act because him addressing you as ‘you’ and not ‘my girl’ or whatever definitely didn’t feel FUCKING CONFUSING.
HAHAHHAHAHA.
But… you’d already developed a feeling that Rafe—YOUR FUCKING CRUSH—might like you more than you thought.
And because that thought was sosososoososos close to ending in a horrible, deep, and suffocating spiral, ESPECIALLY HIGH, you mentally smashed that minion’s head in with a stone like Rafe had suggested and focused on the here and now.
"Kelce said you like anime," you tried to distract from more confusing talk.
Rafe snorted, scratching Taco’s head. "I tolerate him watching it when I’m present. That’s all."
"Sounded more like you also enjoyed it," you chuckled and outlined his posture, furrowing your brows as he kept shifting in his seat. "Keep still."
He let out an annoyed breath but obeyed.
And because you just couldn’t help yourself, you said, "Good boy," followed by a little laughing fit at how his expression faltered for a second into something… YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW LIKE JESUS CHRIST THIS BOY.
"Stop this," he protested AS HE SEEMED TO ADJUST HIS PANTS OH MY GOD. "I’m fucking serious."
You pressed your lips together, cheeks so warm from amusement, secondhand embarrassment and… YOUR OWN FUCKING LUST.
Because DUDE. Knowing Rafe Cameron just sat mere inches away from you, WITH A FUCKING BONER IN HIS PANTS, BECAUSE OF YOU??????
Let’s just say your panties didn’t feel as dry as they should.
Ahem.
Drawing.
Yeah, so...
"Should we talk about the political and economic state of the world right now, then?" you asked, focusing on your screen.
"No. The fuck?"
You chuckled. "Alright. Some plan on how to get rid of the coke video?"
"Absolutely not."
"O-kay. Conspiracy theories?"
Rafe paused, then: "I think you and Barry have some kind of history."
"What?" You laughed in disbelief but felt your neck warm up. "What makes you think that?"
"The way you talked with him on Saturday," he said, voice low. "You two seemed very close. And he has a fucking pet name for you. Literally. 'Alley Cat'? What kind of shit is that?"
Wow.
Rafe Cameron was actually jealous over Barry.
"He calls you Country Club, doesn’t he?" you countered, amused, eyes fixed on getting his frown right.
"That’s different."
You raised your brows. "Ah. Different. How? He has some kind of nickname for like every person in the Outer Banks."
That made him think. Stupid boy.
"Yeah, but it’s just different, okay."
You chuckled. "Okay."
"So did you?" he asked again after a beat of silence, his voice more hesitant than anything else.
You stopped for a second, eyeing him with dry amusement. "Would that be a problem?"
"For him, yes," Rafe said, "he’d have to buy himself more gold teeth after I’m finished with his ass."
Yeah, right. Rafe was definitely the submissive one in their weird business/acquaintance/maybe friends/maybe secret affair relationship.
"Well, it seems he can keep his teeth." Your gaze shifted back to your screen, outlining the rest of your sketch. "Your girl didn’t have a boyfriend before you."
Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw his body visibly relax.
"Good," was all he said.
And because you were already on the topic and you were just way too curious, you couldn’t help but ask. "What about you?"
"Do I look gay to you?"
You blinked at him deadpan. "I meant past relationships. Though you and Barry have some thick tension going on."
"What the fuck."
A chuckle escaped you. "So?"
"So, no," he replied, irritated, "you’re also my first."
"I know I’m your first ‘official’"—you made air quotes—"relationship. But, like, I’m not your first involvement with a girl."
Rafe raised a brow. "You wanna know about my hookups?"
"I… feel like as your girl I should know, right?" you argued, smiling awkwardly because he seemed a little defiant right now.
"But why? None of those chicks matter to me." He grimaced. "Never have."
Somehow this felt like… a relief? Like maybe he was just saying this as part of the act to reassure you as his fake girl, but part of you (ahem, your gut) knew he was telling the truth.
You kept your gaze locked onto coloring the outlines, biting the inside of your cheek. "I just… maybe one of them— I mean…" Fuck, why was this so embarrassing and awkward to address? "Who was your first?"
"You," he shot back without hesitation.
At least he was a loyal fake boyfriend.
"You know that’s not what I meant."
"Baby, I—"
"I’m not asking as your girl," you cut in quietly.
Silence. Great.
You didn’t dare look up to meet his eyes because WHY HAD YOU SAID THIS AHHHHH.
"Alright. Some tourist girl from Monaco," he finally said, playing with his bracelet. "Gave me a blowjob in a toilet stall at the Country Club when I was sixteen. We fucked in her guest suite two floors up afterward."
You finally looked up, startled. "She had her own suite?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. Said she was solo traveling. Kicked me out right after."
That bitch. No wonder Rafe had such a crooked relationship with sex and was only capable of short-term relationships. His first time must have set the base for his expectations and everything. And the idea of him being kicked out…
Plus her having her own suite??? That meant...
"And how old was she?"
Rafe grimaced, thinking. "Dunno, maybe twenty or twenty-one. Can't even remember her face anymore."
Twenty-One?! Jesus Christ. This poor boy had probably been hyped up by peers to think getting laid by an older girl was an achievement. When in reality this was more like…
No. Good thoughts!
BUT HOW SHOULD YOU EVEN BRIDGE THIS INSANELY AWKWARD AND ACTUALLY PRETTY DEEP TOPIC BECAUSE HE’D BEEN A BABY BOY BACK THEN AND NONONO GOOD THOUGHTS, REMEMBER?!
Okay, fuck that. The topic was already vulnerable and maybe…
“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked carefully, adjusting the colors in your drawing. Maybe he had some unresolved feelings about it, and since he felt so secure with you, it just felt right to offer him the chance.
Rafe snorted. "She rode my dick. What’s there to talk about?"
Alright, apparently he didn’t see the obvious power imbalance and exploitation.
Your grip on your Apple Pencil tightened. "Did you at least have aftercare before she kicked you out?"
"Like, a post-sex blowjob or what?"
You froze. He must be kidding. No way.
“No, like cuddling, talking about it, making sure you were okay,” you said, finally meeting his confused expression.
Rafe blinked as if you were the one joking. "Why the fuck would we have done that? It was just sex, no feelings attached."
"It was your first time, Rafe," you countered in disbelief. "That… she should’ve made sure you felt okay afterward, not just kick you out. That’s just cold."
He furrowed his brows, smiling irritated. "Shit, what. I did that all the time. Anything emotional and physical afterward just creates some kind of bond. I don’t need that with a random girl."
Why did that feel like a slap in the face? The fact that he’d treated every girl he’d been with like that scratched at something raw inside you.
"So… you just always kick a girl out afterward?" you asked, unable to hide the distance in your voice.
Rafe seemed to register by the way his brows twitched. He clenched his jaw. "No, I mean, I usually went to the girl’s place when no parents were home. We fuck like once or twice, then either I stay the night or leave right after. No cuddles or shit like that." He shrugged. "None of them ever complained."
Probably because they didn’t know any better, like you had.
Fuck. This was so… you should be angry, should call him out and tell him that even a hookup deserves some kind of after-talk to keep it from feeling hollow, should probably be scared that that’s how he’d treat you too.
But instead, you just felt deeply sorry for him. Because that one encounter seemed to have set the tone for everything that came after.
Of course, Rafe was old enough now to know better, but if truth be told, you just wanted to hold him close and show him how true aftercare looked like. Not that you had any fucking clue for obvious reasons and you weren’t responsible to fix what another girl had broken, but a part of you ached so deeply for this messy boy who actually showed attempts at getting better if just given the chance.
"You look angered," he murmured, ripping you out of your thoughts. "You do know I’d treat you differently, right?"
"What?"
He gestured to his chest, nodding. "Yeah. I’d make sure you feel comfortable and safe. Take things slow and all, talk you through if needed. Girlfriend or friend, doesn’t matter." A half-lidded smile appeared on his lips. "And afterward I’d cozy you up like some cocoon and we’d have some insane bonding time. Naked, of course."
A soft chuckle slipped out, this little admission filling you up with warmth instead of anxiety. (Man, these edibles were a gift. Sober-You probably would've freaked out heavily). "Of course."
Then your smile faded as you made the last finishing strokes. "I know you don’t see it that way, but I’m sorry your first time went like that. It should’ve been with someone you trusted. Some girl your age. Not some moody tourist bitch."
Rafe snorted. "Bitch? I thought—"
"Yes, Rafe, she’s a bitch for having sex with a sixteen-year-old in a Country Club," you snapped, the sudden anger at this random woman boiling up. "She took advantage of your inexperience and probably made you believe you should feel honored to have sex with an older girl, right?"
For the first time, he stayed silent. Just stared at you, confused and disbelieving.
You pressed your lips together, then sighed. "What she did was not okay. Even if you wanted it, she should’ve respectfully denied. She was a grown woman; you were a teenage boy. It’s just… wrong."
Shit.
He looked so… utterly confused, like he didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him here, and maybe it’s best he didn’t know. This was a topic for when you two were both sober, and he should be willing to talk about it, and considering it had at least been consensual and legal, you didn’t want to burden your sweet sleepover with something so heavy.
So you just smiled gently and clicked your Apple Pencil back in your iPad’s case. "Anyway, I’m finished."
His eyes immediately lit up (he was literally a dog sniffing a treat). "C’mon, don’t keep me waiting."
For a second, you hesitated, because of NERVES, but then you just handed him your iPad and smiled sheepishly. "I know you probably expected some realistic portrait but… I felt like you’d look sweet with some big manga eyes and soft colors."
(art by me. do not copy, use or repost <3)
YOUR HEART WAS RACING SO FAST BECAUSE IT FELT LIKE YOU WERE STRIPPING YOURSELF NAKED IN FRONT OF HIM.
And Rafe? He just stared at it—in awe, confusion, disgust, or arousal—you honestly couldn’t fucking tell. DID HE LIKE IT? DID HE THINK YOU WERE SOME WEIRD ANIME KID NOW? DID HE FEEL YOU DIDN’T CATCH HIS MASCULINITY ENOUGH WITH THE PASTEL COLORS, BLUSH, AND SAD DROOPY YAOI SUB STARE???
When he finally looked up, his big blue eyes were LITERALLY gleaming, making your heart skip a whole beat.
"I like it," he said, voice raw. "It’s… shit, it’s cool as fuck."
Your smile widened. "You think so? I was scared you’d think it’s—"
"Shit, yes, of course!" He nodded, brows furrowed. "It’s made by my girl. You. I… fuck, you even added my bruise with the scribbly stuff on my cheek, right?"
You nodded.
"And the heart in the back…" His gaze softened. "Your little signature. I mean, I look like one of the guys on Wheezie’s gay-ass mangas but guess if that’s how my baby views me, I’ll live with it."
A soft chuckle slipped past your lips. "You’re a lot softer and gentler than you think you are."
"Then why am I frowning on here?" he asked, holding the iPad next to his face with literally the same frown as in the drawing. "Shouldn’t I be grinning like an idiot in love?"
Well, are you? you almost asked but instead settled on, "Because you literally frowned the whole time you sat there and I did add small hearts in your eyes." You leaned forward into his personal space, zooming in on his eyes. "See. Literal heart eyes."
Rafe gently pushed you back again, letting out an amused breath. "Let’s not tempt fate again."
Oh, right, his boner problem.
"Alright," you said, taking the iPad from him. "Your turn now." You opened a new blank canvas for him and adjusted the brush for him. "Here. Do you know how it works?"
He grimaced. "I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t call me a toddler again."
"I didn’t," you laughed.
"Right." With furrowed brows, he turned the iPad into landscape mode aka toddler mode. His eyes switched back and forth between your face and the drawing.
When you tried to talk, he just shushed you and asked you to stay still, which made it very hard to do so because he looked so concentrated, as if he was drawing the fucking Mona Lisa. Once he even glanced at your chest, but you didn’t comment on it because, why not, honestly.
And, well… after barely five minutes, he exhaled like he’d just painted a huge canvas for twenty-four hours straight.
"So, how’s it looking, Da Vinci?" you asked, expecting a blank canvas because he probably just acted like he drew but didn’t understand the settings.
With a soft click, Rafe put the Apple Pencil back into its case. "A masterpiece."
"I’m sure of it," you chuckled. "Bless my eyes then."
He grinned mischievously. "You ready to get thrown off the couch? I put my whole soul into this."
"Why do I feel like you drew porn?" you said at the cheeky twinkle in his eyes.
“It’s better,” he chuckled, finally scooting closer (shoving Nacho aside), his thigh pressing against yours sent sparks up your leg. “Look.”
WHAT THE FUCK.
You burst into a huge laughing fit at this Picasso-worthy drawing. Like, WHAT WAS THIS?
“Why is my girl laughing at me?” he asked, feigning hurt.
You pressed your hand in front of your mouth. “Sorry, just… I mean, it’s sweet.”
“But?”
WELL. “But didn’t we agree on portraits?”
Rafe nodded, tapping the screen. “Yeah, it’s two portraits just from a farther point of view.”
“That’s a full-body shot then,” you corrected him, warmth blooming in your chest at this stupid drawing.
“Yeah, okay, fine,” he said, searching for the eraser brush. “Guess I’ll just delete my declaration of love then.”
You wondered if he got this dramatic trait from Sarah or Wheezie, but somehow you assumed the latter.
“No, don’t,” you said softly, trying to hide your grin. You took the iPad from his hands, examining the so-called masterpiece closer. “So, left one’s you, right one’s me… and that blob that looks like Ditto is supposed to be Nacho.”
You’d never seen someone—not even a real toddler—draw a cat this weirdly. That poor thing didn’t even have a nose.
Rafe pointed at the real Nacho. “Spot the difference.”
It’s not even in the range to be considered comparable, but okay.
“Wow, it’s like you just inserted a photo of him,” you said, raising your brows in mock awe. Then you pointed to his drawn face. “And he scratched you?”
Rafe gasped. “What? No! These are obviously kiss marks because my beautiful girl showered me with kisses.”
I'D LOVE NOTHING MORE THAN THAT.
But you kept your nonchalance (for now) and went on. “Sure. And the handcuffs are symbolizing that I’ll be yours forever?”
“Handcuffs?!” He blinked at you, offended, and grabbed your wrist, lifting it up. “Those are our soulmate bracelets. And the line in between symbolizes that connection.”
Damn, even putting in interpretive layers. So poetic.
“Friendship bracelets,” you corrected him, deadpan.
“Yeah, right,” he winked, completely exaggerated.
This boy. You’d definitely gift him some kind of self-made Oscar at the end of this act because he was doing the most.
“Alright,” you pointed at the gun, “and this? To keep me in line?”
Rafe frowned. “Your minions.”
“Ah, so those are these Plankton-looking thingies right here,” you said, knowing damn well what they were supposed to be and it was so sweet how he held onto this allegory for life. “Then why aren’t they dead?”
He softly tapped your temple. “Because these fuckers seem to have steel armor. So, guess the gun is just for myself, the moment they drive me to the brink of insanity.”
You laughed. “I feel like we’re way past that point.”
“So this is our last night then,” he exhaled, dramatically. “I think you know my last wish.”
“Whatever happens here, I assume.” You pointed to his thought bubble, chuckling.
Rafe nodded. “Adult stuff.”
“I’m surprised you’ve chosen this position,” you blurted out FOR WHATEVER FUCKING REASON.
But it was the truth. He always talked about bending you over, but this? You were on top. Like, not even him doing missionary and taking the lead. No, it was you.
“Obviously I wanna see my beautiful girl’s face when I fuck her,” he explained. “Wanna see how she comes undone on me.”
ALRIIIIIIIIIIGHT.
You didn’t dare ask why you were on top in the first place, because this was heading way too far into boner territory if you kept participating. So you just nodded and smoothly re-directed the topic to what you’d been waiting for all night.
“I see,” you said slowly, smiling amused. “And your beautiful girl wants to see you on a beauty chair now, being prettied up."
It was already past 10 PM and you two hadn’t even watched a movie together yet or played a single board game.
Rafe nodded. "Then we'll do the makeover shit now."
"Perfect."
What wasn’t perfect were the rose petals scattered up the stairs toward the bedroom on the second deck. Fuck. You’d completely forgotten Cara had laid them out earlier.
"Just keep walking," you murmured, pushing Rafe by the back as he’d stopped to examine the scene.
He turned around with the filthiest, cockiest grin of the night, his hand sliding onto your waist. “So this is what you meant by ‘makeover,’ huh?”
Your whole body ached for his other hand to grab your other side, to lift you up again, carry you to bed, bury his face in your neck with his weight pressing you down, but AGAIN, you weren’t ready for what could follow. So instead, you brushed his hand off and interlaced your fingers with his.
“I had to make them believe it was a date, okay,” you muttered, though part of you secretly loved how deeply he seemed to want you.
Rafe nodded and winked. "Sure."
And as you finally dragged him off toward the Dressing and Spa Room next to the Owner’s Suite, you clung to the fragile illusion that this was just an innocent sleepover.
But with rose petals on the stairs and a fake boyfriend who looked at you like he wanted to ruin every definition of “innocent,” you had a feeling the night was only just getting started.
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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->
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T A G L I S T F O R M
(taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)
summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.
a/n: Well well well- guess whose back. Thought I'd do a little surprise drop just for the plot BAHAHAH. Lets see, more drama obviously cause our girl cant catch a break, more domestic bunny and rafe and a little special feature for our girl Naomi cause I've missed her. I love Sarah Cameron. As the end of the series draws nearer I lowkey feel kinda emotional, I feel like nothings ever gonna beat rafe and bunny for me. 1 more chapter after this to go my loves x
warnings: allusions to sex, angst, violence (yelling/arguing) (jj pmo), mentions of past abuse (bruises ect), soft!rafe and Soft!bunny (they're so domestic)
The soft hum of tires against the road was the only sound cutting through the silence inside the twinkie. Sarah sat up front, leaning her elbow against the open window as her fingers tapped against her thigh. Her eyes flicked between the side mirror and John B’s profile. The brunette boy’s hands were tight on the steering wheel very much mirroring the tense mood in the backseat. Pope sat beside JJ, who was slumped against the wall of the van, head resting back, his phone clutched in his hand like it was the only thing keeping him anchored. JJ’s eyes were trained on the screen, scrolling through the messages he’d sent Y/N- all left on read.
“I’m sorry I should’ve said something”
“I should’ve stopped him”
“I was just in shock”
“Come home”
“You're still my sister no matter what”
“I love you”
He blinked hard, jaw tightening as he shoved the heel of his palm against his eye, like he could push down the sting building behind it. “C’mon, man,” Pope said quietly, nudging him with his shoulder.
“You’ve been moping for two days straight.”
“I’m not moping,” JJ muttered.
“You’re definitely moping”
Sarah piped up from the front seat, not turning around. “You haven’t said a word since we left the Chateau.” “I just…” JJ sighed finally shifting upright, placing his hands into the floor of the van and pushing himself up slightly,
“I don’t get how she could cut us off like this.”
“She’s not thinking like that,” Pope said gently. “She just needs time. After everything with your dad and Rafe-”
“-don’t say his name”
JJ snapped, a little too quickly. His voice cracked with it and he clenched his jaw and turned his face back toward the window. Pope leaned forward a bit, trying to bridge the gap.
“Look, we’re gonna grab Sarah’s stuff, then we’ll look for her. Maybe she just… needed space? That doesn’t mean she’s gone forever dude.”
JJ didn’t respond, just glanced back down at his phone, the screen dark now.
No new notifications
No answer from her
The Twinkie came to a slow stop outside the metal gates, the loud rattle of the van’s engine stark against the immaculate house before them. Inside the van, Kiara leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the grand front entrance.
“You still got the key?”
She asked, glancing at Sarah. The blonde girl pulled her tote bag into her lap and rummaged through it, the jingle of metal briefly filling the space before she held up a single key.
“Yeah I do.”
“What if he’s changed the locks?”
Cleo raised a brow from the back, arms crossed. Sarah let out an unimpressed scoff, already opening her door.
“I’d like to think he’s not that petty.”
From the driver’s seat, John B snorted. “Yeah right, you’ve clearly never met him”
Sarah shot him a dry stare as she swung her legs out the door and hopped out. The rest of the group followed- door creaking, feet hitting the pavement, the usual shuffling of trainers on the floor. Once she was facing the tall front gate Sarah paused, then turned, arms folded tight across her chest, scanning the group all lined up behind her.
“You’re all coming?!”
The rest of them exchanged a look, a quick unspoken conversation bouncing between the Pogues like a game of mental ping-pong. Then John B stepped forward with a shrug.
“Uh… yeah?”
Kiara raised a brow, “What, you thought we were gonna just sit in the van like unpaid Uber drivers... ?”
Sarah stood at the tall black gate, her fingers punching in the familiar code on the silver keypad. A faint beep… then a soft click. The gate creaked open slowly, and she gave it a push, slipping through the gap as the others quietly followed behind her one by one. JJ paused just before crossing the threshold, glancing up at the looming house beyond the hedges. He swallowed hard, thumb still brushing the corner of his phone screen inside his pocket.
The six of them walked in a tight, quiet cluster up the long cobblestone driveway. The sound of gravel crunching under their shoes was the only thing breaking the silence. Sarah looked over her shoulder, voice low but firm.
“Okay, just- keep quiet. I don’t know if he’s home.”
Pope turned back slightly toward JJ, who was trailing behind the group, his gaze flicking up toward the house’s tall windows. “You good?” Pope murmured but JJ didn’t answer at first.
It was his fault that all of this had happened.
His fault Y/N had gone radio silent and disappeared without a word.
His fault she was even in this mess to begin with.
JJ could feel it- this sharp, burning fury crawling up the back of his throat and settling heavy in his chest just at the thought of him. He swallowed it down, his jaw tight and his fingers twitching with the urge to hit something.
Anything.
Him.
His hand clenched briefly, then he gave Pope a stiff nod before looking back to Sarah who was already climbing the few steps to the grand double doors, her fingers gripping the key. She turned back to them one more time.
“Last chance to turn around.”
Cleo gave her a look, “We already broke in- might as well finish the job.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning light crept slowly across the living room, golden rays spilling in through the sheer curtains. It stretched across the floorboards and kissed the edge of the couch before it climbed its way up and reached them tangled together in their sleep. Y/N was still curled on Rafe’s chest, her cheek pressed to his bare skin- the slow rise and fall of his breathing lulling her deeper into rest. The blanket they’d pulled over themselves sometime in the night had slipped down to their waists leaving their upper bodies exposed to the warmth of the sun. His hand, large and steady, remained protectively across her back, holding her to him even in sleep.
However their soft morning stillness was soon broken.
Rafe stirred first his brow furrowing as a sound reached him through the haze of sleep; the faint, unmistakable rattle of a door handle being twisted repeatedly, followed by the subtle click of a lock. His eyes snapped open fully now and he sat up slowly, his hand still staying firm against Y/N’s back to support her where she lay curled against him. For a second, he held his breath and listened.
Another click.
Then the quiet creak of the front door swinging open.
Y/N shifted against him at the sudden movement, her lashes fluttering before her voice mumbled groggy with sleep,
“What’s going on…?”
“I don’t know, I-” Rafe’s voice was still thick with sleep but before he could finish muffled voices echoed from the front of the house, indistinct at first but quickly growing clearer.
“Just shut up guys, c’mon”
“Ow! John B- that’s my foot!”
“Why are you literally standing on my ass then Kie?”
Y/N went rigid on his chest as she sat up and turned her wide, panicked eyes toward Rafe. All the colour drained from her face. Her voice came out in a frantic whisper,
“What are they doing here?!”
Rafe was already sitting up, scanning the room with quick eyes the sleepy fog gone in an instant.
“C’mon”
He hissed under his breath. Y/N sat up fast, clutching the blanket to her chest as her heart thundered in her ribcage. They scrambled, hands, fabric and limbs moving in frantic coordination. She chucked his sweatpants at him as he stood, pulling them on in one rough motion, still shirtless. She whisper-yelled, glancing around in panic.
“Where the fuck did you throw my clothes?!”
“I don’t know- Jesus, I wasn’t exactly thinking about where I tossed them at the time!”
Rafe whispered back, eyes sweeping the room. She let out a sharp breath, the blanket still wrapped tight around her like a towel, standing barefoot in the middle of the sudden chaos that their peaceful morning had escalated to. Her bra was nowhere in sight. Her jeans- gone.
And her panties?
She spotted them thrown over the lampshade by the couch.
Of course
Rafe was halfway across the room, crouched behind the coffee table when the sound of footsteps grew louder before coming to a sudden stop and when Y/N whipped around to look in the direction of the sound,
Sarah was standing there having stopped dead in her tracks.
Her eyes landed on Y/N, wrapped in nothing but a blanket and then flicked to Rafe, shirtless and breathless. Her mouth dropped open.
“Oh my god.”
The room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Y/N’s eyes went wide as Sarah blinked unmoving, once then twice like her brain was rebooting. They were all just standing there- frozen in a silence so thick it was becoming suffocating. Y/N’s fingers clenched tighter around the blanket at her chest and Rafe’s shoulders were tense, his jaw locked. Sarah looked like she’d just walked into an alternate universe, eyes flicking between the two of them, lips parted like she didn’t know what to say first. Rafe’s sharp voice broke the silence,
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I- I was just-”
Sarah’s lips moved but no more sound came out. She blinked again as she took a breath to speak but then a voice cut through the tension, whisper echoing in from the hallway with a clueless lilt.
“Hey Sarah, where’d you go…?”
Y/N froze.
No
No no no—
Her heart stopped cold.
She didn’t even have time to react before JJ rounded the corner. His steps slowed the second he saw them, his sister and Rafe; half-dressed, clothes scattered on the floor, the blanket wrapped around her, Rafe shirtless, her bra- right fucking there- thrown over the back of the couch. JJ’s entire body stiffened as his eyes locked on her, then Rafe, then down to the floor and back up again and then his face twisted.
“What the fuck.”
“Jay—” Y/N stepped forward instinctively, her voice breathless as she reached a hand out.
“It’s not what it looks like-”
“-not what it looks like?” he scoffed.
“Are you serious right now?”
His voice cracked around the edges, a mix of rage and betrayal bleeding through every syllable that left his mouth. His chest rose and fell in quick, angry breaths as he stared at his sister- the one who’d ghosted him for two days, ignored his texts and had his heart breaking- and now had Rafe fucking Cameron standing next to her. “You disappeared,” he spat.
“You don’t answer me and this is why?”
“JJ-” Rafe warned, stepping forward slightly but JJ’s glare whipped to him like fire catching gasoline.
“Don’t fucking talk to me.”
“Stop it, okay?”
Y/N suddenly snapped, stepping into the wide space between them before JJ could say anything more. Her voice trembled slightly but there was still sternness in her tone,
“You have no idea what’s going on.”
JJ let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head like she was actually insane. He spoke out, arms outstretched mockingly to gesture between Y/N and the boy standing next to her, his voice dripping in sarcasm.
“Oh I’m pretty sure I know exactly what’s going on”
“Excuse me?”
Y/N’s jaw clenched but JJ didn’t seem to hesitate or hold back. He was too angry, too heartbroken, certainly too blindsided by his fury to bite his tongue.
“Looks like what Dad said was right.”
The words hit her like a slap and her breath caught in her throat, the blanket still clutched in her fingers, but looser now. Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything because she knew exactly what JJ meant. Those words- those vile, disgusting things her father screamed at her before he kicked her out- they were still fresh in her mind, still echoing in her skull on loop. And now JJ, her own brother, was throwing them in her face too? Her chest tightened and the burn started behind her eyes before she could stop it. There was a sudden sound of shuffling growing louder in the hallway, before the rest of the Pogues walked in, their eyes landing on the scene in front of them. Pope slowed confused, and Cleo and Kiara’s brows furrowed. But John B took one look at Y/N’s tear-filled eyes and JJ practically vibrating with rage a few feet opposite her and he muttered under his breath quietly but unmistakably clear-
“Oh shit.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened when he saw her. Y/N’s eyes were glassy, her hand trembling slightly where it clutched the blanket against her chest and her shoulders had drawn in, like she was trying to make herself smaller. She wasn't going to be treated like this, not in front of him under his roof. “Alright,” Rafe muttered stepping forward slowly and dangerously calm,
“You need to leave.”
“Get the fuck outta my face”
JJ spat his eyes snapped to Rafe, shoving him back with both hands. Rafe stumbled a step, but the fury that flashed in his eyes was immediate. John B’s voice cut in, trying to de-escalate the sudden storm that had erupted in the room,
“Okay man, I think we should-”
“No!” JJ barked spinning toward him.
“NO! I’m not fucking leaving, alright?!”
Then he turned back on his heel to Y/N, stepping toward her with betrayal bleeding out of every pore. He jabbed his finger in her direction angrily,
“I can’t fucking believe you would do this to me! Seriously?! After everything that we’ve- he’s tormented us for years, and now you’re here- what- sucking his dick?!”
Y/N shook her head in disbelief backing away a step, her bare feet quiet against the hardwood. She felt like the wind had been punched out of her lungs. “Hey!” Rafe shouted, stepping between them like a shield.
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
And then- he shoved JJ, hard. The blonde Pogue stumbled back, his chest still heaving. It looked like he was ready to throw a punch back in the Kook’s direction but then Y/N’s voice cracked through the standoff, pleading and desperate.
“JJ that’s not what this is, I swear- just listen to me please”
Her voice was breaking now, tears slipping down her cheeks despite her best effort to swallow them down. Her eyes bounced between the two boys, panic setting in as it all spiraled out of control. John B took JJ by the arm, yanking him back before anything worse could happen.
“Just chill out.”
He muttered harshly under his breath, glancing toward the others. Pope was already stepping in too, grabbing JJ’s other side with a firm hand.
“C’mon calm down.”
But Rafe wasn’t paying attention to them, instead his body was angled blocking Y/N from JJ’s view. His hand gently found her back, trying to ground her as she appeared visibly shook, her breaths short and quick. Sarah stood frozen near the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, this was her fault. She brought them here. She didn’t even think about the possibility of her being here. JJ shrugged both boys off with a rough jerk of his shoulders and suddenly, his voice cracked through the air again like a whip,
“You’re not a Maybank, you know that?”
Y/N’s brows furrowed, her voice small and cracking, “what… what are you talking about?”
“A Maybank would never betray their own blood”
JJ’s eyes were glossy now too and Y/N flinched like he’d hit her. Her lips parted trembling, her whole body shivering despite the blanket still clutched around her.
“Jay I love you, you're still my broth-”
Her voice broke as small sobs bubbled out of her chest now, no longer hidden. Her throat felt raw. Rafe turned instantly, cupping her cheek and whispering urgently shielding her from the looks of the rest of them.
“Hey, hey- shh- it’s okay, it’s okay”
In the back Kiara was already pushing past Pope and John B, her palm landing square on JJ’s chest with force. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she hissed. “That’s your sister— what the hell are you doing?!” JJ’s jaw was clenched, fists balled at his sides, his eyes bore into Y/N, who was curled slightly into Rafe now, like she was a stranger.
"Guess selling yourself came easier than telling me the truth"
Y/N let out the softest, broken gasp- a wounded sound that barely passed her lips. Rafe stiffened, his entire body went rigid, jaw clenched and he turned on his heel so fast it startled even Cleo.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
Rafe’s voice boomed through the room like thunder.
“NOW!”
JJ didn’t flinch, he didn’t move either but John B and Pope didn’t wait. They grabbed him- each taking one arm- dragging him back toward the hall as he thrashed back against them, with gritted teeth and burning eyes.
“Let me go- fuck- LET GO OF ME-”
They’d already pulled him out, and his shouting faded into muffled echoes down the corridor. The front door slammed and silence followed. Y/N was shaking in Rafe’s arms, hands fisted in the material of the blanket around her. He just held her tighter, his hand cradling the back of her head, the other rubbing soothing circles down her spine. Behind them, Sarah stood still, guilt choking her. “Rafe,” she said quietly, voice breaking.
“I didn’t know. I swear- I didn’t know this was going to happen. I didn’t even know she was here- I’m sorry, I-”
Rafe sighed, long and slow, his hand never leaving Y/N’s back. He glanced over his shoulder tired,
“Sarah… just go.”
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, gave one last look at Y/N crumpled against him, then turned and walked out without another word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rafe’s bedroom was dim and quiet, except for the low hum of the fan overhead and the occasional rustle of sheets as Y/N shifted beneath them. She laid on the large queen-size mattress, an oversized t-shirt of his covering her frame. The door creaked open gently and Rafe stepped in, balancing a mug firmly in his hand. He murmured, setting it down on the bedside table with a soft clink.
“Brought you something,”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head, then he sank onto the bed beside her, laying on his side to face her, his head resting in the palm of his hand, elbow propped up on the cushions. Y/N blinked at him through her lashes before turning to properly look at him, her voice still somewhat hoarse but nevertheless teasing.
“I didn’t know Rafe Cameron knew how to make tea.”
“Yeah well, I’d learn how to make that weird green drink you like if you wanted.”
Her brow lifted as he gave her a smile.
“Matcha?”
“That thing.”
He nodded like it was some foreign concept, not that he drank anything outside of black coffee. Her smile cracked through her exhaustion and Rafe watched her carefully for a second before brushing a hand against her arm, fingers sliding up and down the exposed skin, soft to the touch.
“You okay?”
She hesitated, her lips parting as if the answer was trying to form, but never quite managed to get out. “Yeah, I guess I just…” Finally, she let out a sigh.
“I don’t know how I expected him to find out but… that wasn’t it.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
Rafe’s expression dimmed and he kissed his teeth before letting out a deep breath himself. She shook her head immediately, voice gentle.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Well…. I sorta think it is.”
Y/N shuffled herself closer towards him, propping her own elbow against the pillow, letting her rest her head on her hand. Her eyes met his and she tilted her head a little before humming as though deep in though,
“Hmmm… that’s a little awkward then”
That pulled a soft laugh out of him, “Yeah, just a bit.”
They laid there like that for a beat before slowly, like he couldn't help himself, he pushed forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. His hand came up to cradle her cheek, thumb brushing over the skin just beneath her eye. When he pulled back, his eyes flickered down to the fading bruise along her cheekbone,
"It looks better."
She nodded slowly, lips pressing together, “Mmhmm.” But her eyes were distant, like her mind was still somewhere back in that living room. Rafe stayed close, his hand still holding her face like he was anchoring her to the present. His thumb gently traced over the curve of her jaw.
"You can talk to me"
He said after a moment. She didn’t respond right away. Just leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as her fingers curled lightly in the fabric of his t-shirt. Then she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, "He looked at me like I was a stranger." Rafe’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t say anything. Just let her speak, his thumb brushing slowly across her cheek. "It’s not even what he said. Not really. It’s just-" her throat tightened,
"He meant it."
Silence settled again, thick and aching. Rafe shifted slightly closer, pressing a kiss to her temple as he let out a small sigh,
"He was hurt and angry- not that I'm defending him- but people say dumb shit when they’re angry"
"I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me."
Rafe was quiet, watching the girl as she sat up and brought her hand up to run over the arch of her brow. He sat up on the bed himself, back comfortably against the headboard as he spoke out,
"Then he’s not who you thought he was."
"He’s my baby Rafe."
Her voice was soft and breaking as she spoke, eyes glassed over again as she pulled her knees up, looping her arms around them. "I brought him up. Ever since he was a little blonde-haired toddler. I’ve looked after him, protected him- God, I used to wipe his nose and teach him how to tie his laces. I just..." She dropped her head into her palm, elbow resting against her knee her voice nearly a whisper now,
"I just want my baby back."
Rafe didn’t say anything right away. He just reached over and rested a hand on her back, rubbing slow, steady circles like he was trying to ease an invisible ache he couldn’t fix. "He’s still your baby" he murmured eventually.
"Give him time, he’ll come around."
Her eyes lifted, full of doubt, "And if he doesn’t?"
"You still have me."
He added the words gently, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced at her. She couldn’t help it, a tiny smile bloomed on her lips too, and she nudged her shoulder into his, their arms brushing. "Well gee," she murmured, tilting her head toward him,
"Isn’t that an upgrade."
Rafe huffed out a low laugh, his eyebrows raising, "Damn right it is," he shot back with a smirk.
"I make you tea"
"Oh yeah, the bare minimum. You’re really setting the bar high Rafe."
Rafe smirked, then without a word, slipped his arm around her waist and gently tugged her down with him until she was lying flat against his chest. She let out a soft surprised laugh, the breath leaving her lungs as she landed against him. He looked down at her and pressed a slow, tender kiss to her lips.
"Only the best for my girl"
He murmured against her mouth and she giggled softly, her fingers curling in the fabric of his t-shirt. It felt safe, easy even, but then his tone shifted, not necessarily heavy but more serious. "Speaking of that..." Her smile faltered just a little as she pulled back enough to look up at him, brow furrowing slightly.
"What...?"
He paused just for a beat and she felt the subtle tension in his chest beneath her. "Since you're living with me now..." He trailed off again and she stayed quiet, giving him the space to speak.
"...I need you to do something for me."
She blinked her voice gentle, "Anything you want."
His jaw flexed once, he looked like he was chewing on it, the words, the timing, the fear of saying the wrong thing to her and fucking it all up again. Finally, he exhaled through his nose and said it voice low but steady:
"I want you to stop working at the strip club."
For a second, she didn't respond. Her brows knit tighter together as she lifted herself a little more, bracing a hand on the bed beside him.
"What...?"
It wasn’t angry. Just quiet and confused. Like it didn’t compute in her mind. She blinked, eyes searching his face like she hadn’t quite heard him right. “Rafe, I—” But he was already shaking his head,
“I know. I know you don’t wanna depend on me.”
He paused, “and I respect that.” His eyes held hers as he continued, “So you can work at the country club. Hell- pick up something else, I’ll help you look. But just…” he swallowed, voice thickening slightly.
“Please. No more dancing.”
She sat up fully, still facing him, legs folded under herself now as she looked at him with something close to disbelief. Not irritation, just shock and surprise.
“Are you being serious...?”
Her voice cracked a little at the end. It wasn’t judgmental, not even hesitant- just stunned. Rafe sat up too, shifting so they were eye to eye. “Yeah.” His voice didn’t waver,
“Let me take care of you.”
Her breath caught as he continued, “You don’t have to work yourself to the bone just to survive anymore, not with me.” His hand moved to hers, threading his fingers gently with hers like he was afraid she’d pull away.
“I know you’re strong and you’ve always figured it out yourself but…”
She didn’t say anything right away. Just looked down at their hands, her thumb brushing across his knuckles and then, quietly, almost like a whisper:
“Okay.”
She leaned forward slowly,
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, okay.”
A soft smile tugged at her lips and he let out a quiet breath of relief then leaned in, pressing a warm lingering kiss to her lips, his thumb brushing her jaw. When he pulled back, a small smirk replaced the softness. “But… those cute little sets you’ve got-” His voice dropped an octave, playful now.
“You’ll still wear them for me, right?”
She let out an incredulous laugh, shoving him back against the mattress with both hands on his chest.
“You’re gross Cameron.”
He threw his hands up like he was surrendering, innocent of all charges that she was throwing at him, “What? I’m asking a reasonable question…” She bit back a grin as she swung her leg over his lap, settling comfortably against his thighs before leaning down, “Sure,” she murmured against his lips, kissing him again,
“The little sets are only for you now...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Y/N sat tucked into the corner of a cozy little coffee shop, her fingers curled around a warm latte, although it remained untouched as her eyes kept drifting to the table across from her. A young couple sat there, blissfully unaware of anything but their baby. The mom had the little girl perched on her hip, bouncing her gently while the father reached out, making silly faces. The toddler giggled, tiny hands opening and closing as she made eager little grabby hands toward her dad’s face, like she couldn’t get enough of him. Her childish laughter rose above the soft clinking of dishes and quiet conversation around the cafe, a pure sound that made something ache in Y/N’s chest. She blinked, dragging her eyes back to the steam curling up from her drink just in time to hear a voice behind her:
“Well, well, well… look what the cat dragged in.”
Y/N turned, already smiling before she even saw her. Naomi’s arms were crossed, one hip popped out slightly, oversized sunglasses perched on her head and her long acrylics drumming against her bicep. She looked dead serious, her expression tight.
But then she cracked.
“You bitch.”
She broke into a grin striding forward, Y/N stood up and was immediately wrapped in a tight, vanilla-scented hug. Naomi squeezed her like she meant it, “Hey, ‘Omi,” Y/N mumbled into her shoulder, suddenly breathless from how much she'd missed her. The girl pulled back, holding her at arm’s length.
“I was this close to filing a missing persons case. You had me picturing you dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just… I’ve been busy.”
Y/N laughed and Naomi raised a brow, sliding into the seat across from her.
“Busy, huh?”
She looked Y/N up and down now, really taking her in; the clean hair, the soft looking oversized sweater, the lack of her brows drawn down in worry like they usually were and she narrowed her eyes slightly, legs crossing at the knee as she folded her arms
“This better not be 'cause of your little boy toy.”
Y/N went quiet, lips twitching like she was trying not to smile but the attempt didn’t last long. A grin cracked through. Naomi pointed at her triumphantly with a finger, “I knew it. I knewww it.” She tossed her braided hair over her shoulder pridefully,
“I had a feeling, you know, and my feelings are never wrong.”
Y/N laughed under her breath, rubbing a hand over her cheek, the bruise having faded- which she was grateful for as she knew Naomi would be asking questions otherwise.
“Are you mad at me?”
Naomi didn’t answer at first. She reached across the table, slid Y/N’s untouched latte toward herself, and took a slow unbothered sip like it belonged to her. She placed the cup down onto the small plate with a clink and then she looked to her,
“Mad? Why would I be mad at you Bunny?”
“I don’t know… 'cause I just like disappeared without a word?”
Naomi clicked her tongue with a small shake of her head in agreement, “Okay, yeah. I was mad. A little mad.” She held up two fingers, like an inch apart to try to reflect the annoyance she had at the girl, but she quickly waved her hand in Y/N’s direction as she continued, “But I’m not gonna hold it against you girl and besides you’ve seen me mad.” Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line, amused, before speaking out,
“I’ve seen you drag a man across a bar floor in six-inch heels.”
Naomi sat back, “Mmhmm, so trust me… if I was mad at you, you’d know.”
She picked up the cup again, her fingers wrapping around the warmth of it, took another sip, and gave a little satisfied nod. “Sorry, this is really good.” Y/N watched her, the corners of her eyes crinkling just slightly, that familiar heat blooming behind her ribs. She didn’t realise how much she’d missed this, missed Naomi, until this moment. The way she could cut through all the noise in her head without even trying. Naomi caught her looking and tilted her head.
“Are you gonna drink this or…?”
Y/N shook her head, “It’s all yours.”
Naomi grinned and pulled the cup closer, “Thanks, honey.” She leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh, “Sooo…” she started her eyes gleaming like she was bracing for a juicy confession,
“Did you call me here cause you wanna know the club gossip or-”
“As tempting as that is, no. That’s not why I called you.”
Naomi tilted her head, her earrings catching the light as she gave her a mock squint. “It’s just cause you missed me, right?” Y/N gave her a look and said,
“Mmhmm. Yep. You got me there.”
That earned a full laugh from both of them, loud enough that the couple at the next table gave them a quick glance. A beat passed between them and Naomi took another sip, then glanced down at the cup before saying, “Well... I’ve missed you.” She didn’t say it like a joke, didn’t throw it out there for laughs or deflection. Just said it, quietly like it had been sitting on her chest since the last time they saw each other. Her gaze dropped to the coffee, swirling the liquid around slowly before speaking again.
“You know I don’t do emotions n’shit but... I’ve missed you.”
Y/N felt her throat catch for a second, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. Her voice was gentler when she finally spoke.
“I’ve missed you too.”
Their eyes met again, and for a moment, there was nothing between them; no neon lights, no heavy music, no mirrors or backstage chaos. Just two girls with a quiet understanding of each other. Naomi gave a soft little sniff, then she straightened up, “Okay, enough of the sappy shit.” Her voice returned to its usual sharpness, but the warmth behind her eyes didn’t fade.
“So what’s up? You coming back and wanna know what time slots are free this week?”
Y/N gave a soft breath of a laugh, but it was tight around the edges. Her gaze dropped to the table, her fingers beginning to tap out a slow rhythm against the wood grain.
“Yeah, um… it’s actually the opposite of that.”
A pause settled between them, heavy and still and then Naomi’s brows lifted slightly.
“... you’re leaving?”
Y/N didn’t speak at first. She just looked at her and then gave a quiet nod. Naomi leaned back slowly in her chair, jaw shifting like she was working through something. Her lips parted, like she might say something but then closed again. “Damn.” She tilted her head.
“So boy toy is your sugar daddy now, huh?”
“He’s not my sugar daddy.”
Y/N let out a breath of laughter and rolled her eyes, running a fingertip over the arch of her brow. Naomi narrowed her eyes like a lawyer catching someone in a lie mid case.
“Uh-huh. Does he drive a Range Rover?”
Y/N hesitated a second too long.
“…yes?”
That broke whatever tension was left, both of them bursting into giggles once more, Naomi nearly knocking her elbow on the table as she leaned forward and Y/N hiding her face behind her hands to calm herself down, both their stomachs starting to cramp from the laughter.
“That’s what I thought. Sugar. Daddy.”
“Stop you’re embarrassing me” Y/N laughed, kicking lightly at the girl's ankle under the table.
“He’s just… good to me. That’s all.”
Naomi tilted her head, gaze softening again- less teasing now like she knew the moment deserved more than just jokes. “Good,” she said, her voice quieter.
“You deserve better than the club anyway.”
Y/N looked at her, throat suddenly tight, the lump forming so fast it startled her. She swallowed it down with a soft breath, eyes lingering on Naomi’s face. “So do you.” Naomi just shook her head with a slow smile tugging at her lips knowingly. “That place is my home,” she murmured.
“And you know it.”
Y/N nodded, the motion small but full of understanding. She looked at the girl across from her; sharp-eyed, loud-mouthed, ride-or-die attitude. The one who did her lip liner for her backstage when her hands were shaking, who taught her how to count her cash fast and stand her ground even faster. “Well,” she said, her voice softer now,
“I’m glad that it managed to lure me in.”
“And why’s that exactly?”
“Otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.”
Y/N gave her a small, watery smile and Naomi groaned and tipped her head back dramatically.
“God, don’t be nice to me right now. I’ll cry all over my fake Gucci.”
Y/N laughed through her sniffle and reached across the table, fingers slipping into Naomi’s, palms pressed warm together on the wood of the table top. The girl didn’t pull away, just looked down at their hands, then up at Y/N. Her voice was softer than Y/N had ever heard it.
“I’m proud of you.”
Y/N smiled, a little tremble in it as she tried, really hard, to keep it together.
“I love you Omi.”
Naomi batted her lashes, her lips quirking upwards, “I know. I’m very lovable.”
Time passed faster than the girls expected as they sat at the table, one latte having turned to three and before they knew it the sky had started to bleed into an orange hue. Naomi let out a long breath, giving Y/N’s hand one last squeeze before letting go, she spoke out her voice light but eyes serious.
“You better come visit”
“Duh- you won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”
They both stood, half-laughing, half-lingering, until Naomi finally pulled her into a tight hug, not one of their usual playful ones, but something full and real and grounding. The bell jingled above them as they pushed the door open, the cool breeze brushing against their skin. “Get outta here Bunny,” she spoke waving her hand at Y/N dismissively,
“Go live your domestic dream.”
“Oh shut up” Y/N said, laughing.
“I’m serious!” Naomi added, “and you tell little mr ‘trust fund’ that if he breaks your heart, I’m showing up with my six-inch heels.”
“He won’t.” Y/N’s voice was soft but certain and Naomi looked at her, then nodded.
“Yeah. I don’t think he will either.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The late afternoon sun poured in through the wide windows of the country club, casting golden light across the polished marble floor. Outside, golfers milled about on the manicured green, their drinks in hand and voices drifting in through the open terrace doors. Inside, it was still pleasant, the weather having gotten warmer as the month progressed. It was quiet, the lull between lunch and dinner when the bar only saw the occasional regulars. Y/N stood behind it, restocking glasses with practiced ease. The air was soft with the scent of freshly cut lemon slices and citrus gin, the low murmur of conversation from a few older members huddled at a corner table the only background noise. She didn’t hear footsteps, but she felt it shift in the atmosphere when someone’s eyes were fixed on you. She straightened, turned toward the presence with a polite smile already in place. “What can I get you?” And then she saw who it was.
“…Oh.”
Her smile faltered just slightly.
“Hi- What can I get you?”
Sarah Cameron stood on the other side of the bar, hair pulled back into a loose pony tail, eyes steady on hers. There was no malice in them, just… something unreadable. For a moment Y/N wondered how Sarah had even managed to get in, she was pretty sure Rafe was the only Cameron with a membership.
“Can we talk?”
Sarah asked plainly, albeit a quiet sense of nervousness could be heard, and Y/N glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at the mostly empty bar. Only three patrons sat at the far end, half-watching the golf tournament on the mounted TV. “Well,” she said, brushing her hands on a bar towel,
“I’m kind of on the clock right now… but we can talk here.”
“Here’s fine.”
Y/N nodded once as she reached behind her and poured a glass of water, sliding it across the counter toward Sarah like a peace offering. Y/N reached for a dry towel, wiping it across a damp glass with smooth motion. It gave her something to do with her hands, something to focus on while Sarah settled into the stool opposite her. There was a pause, not awkward but thick with whatever Sarah had come here to say. Finally, the blonde girl across the counter spoke. “I, um…” Sarah cleared her throat, resting her elbows on the bar.
“I’m sorry. For showing up at the house like that. I wasn’t trying to… interrupt anything.”
Y/N gave a small dry laugh, her eyes still focused on the glass in her hands, “You didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Still,” Sarah pressed gently, “I wasn’t trying to catch you off guard. I didn’t know you and my brother were… you know.”
That made Y/N pause for a second, the rhythm of her hands slowing just slightly. “Yeah uh” she murmured, setting the glass down.
“It’s… recent.”
Sarah nodded, then twisted her fingers together on the bartop.
“I just— I didn’t mean to cause a thing with you and JJ. I didn’t know about any of that, I swear, and after the fight that night, I just kept thinking, like… if I hadn’t come by, maybe things wouldn’t’ve blown up like they did-”
“-Sarah.”
Y/N finally looked up, her face softening and she shook her head once, firmly.
“It’s fine. It’s not your fault.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment and the hum of the golf announcer on the TV drifted lazily in the background. Y/N busied her hands again, reaching for another glass, wiping it clean. Her voice was gentler now when she spoke again.
“Things were already tense with JJ… you just happened to walk in at the wrong time.”
Sarah’s brow furrowed slightly, guilt still resting behind her eyes, but she nodded slowly.
“I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it on purpose. I really didn’t know.”
Y/N gave her a faint, appreciative smile, “I know you didn’t.”
The quiet settled between them again like an unsure fog. Sarah fidgeted with the edge of a paper napkin from the counter, folding and unfolding it absently. Y/N had gone back to cleaning glasses, her movements smooth but just a touch too focused like she was trying not to feel the heat of Sarah’s gaze as she suddenly spoke,
"Y/N, my brother... he’s not exactly the type to-"
Y/N let out a short breath and cut in, her voice firm but not harsh, "Look, Sarah. If you're here to lecture me about Rafe, I really—" her eyes flicked up, guarded now,
"I really don't need that. Okay?"
Sarah opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but Y/N kept going.
"I get it. He’s your brother and you’ve seen him at his worst, but so have I.”
She stopped wiping the glass, placed it carefully on the drying mat, and rested both hands on the edge of the bar. Sarah hesitated, then leaned in just slightly, voice quieter now but still threaded with concern.
"I'm sorry but- it's Rafe. I've known him my whole life and he’s never been the type to help people, not unless there’s something in it for him. I’m just worried that maybe he sees you’re in a rough position and he’s just..." she trailed off not finishing the sentence and Y/N blinked slowly at her, jaw tightening. Then she shook her head. "Stop..." she exhaled, eyes flicking downward.
"Stop"
Her voice cracked just slightly as she pushed the towel aside and her shoulders dropped a little. “No one has helped me the past few months the way he has. No one.” Her eyes draw away from the counter to meet Sarah’s,
“He’s been there for me in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine. I wouldn’t even be able to tell you because you wouldn’t believe me.”
Sarah’s expression softened at that and she watched her quietly for a beat, lips parted like she might speak. Then her voice came quieter than before,
“Yes I would...”
Y/N looked at Sarah for a long moment. And all she could see was a girl who was open, understanding. Someone who wanted to know the truth rather than take it away and further spin it into a web of lies. She let out a breath less defensive this time, “I finish my shift at seven today,” she murmured, glancing out the window where the afternoon sun was beginning to lower.
“Meet me outside by the staff car park and I’ll tell you everything.”
Sarah gave a small nod and Y/N turned, picked up the next glass.
The cool evening air wrapped around them as they stood outside the club, the faint hum of the island's nightlife carrying in the background. Y/N leaned against the brick wall, the weight of the conversation she was having heavy on her shoulders. Sarah stood beside her, silent, but there was an understanding in her posture now. She was quiet- the whole time. She didn't interrupt once, just listened, waiting for Y/N to speak, to unload everything she had been holding in.
Y/N took a long drag of her cigarette, the smoke curling into the air as she exhaled slowly. She raised her hand and offered it to Sarah, who smiled politely and shook her head. They stood silent for a moment, the quiet between them thick like the smoke rising from Y/N’s lips, but somehow it was comfortable. “No one knows this,” Y/N continued, her voice barely a whisper now.
“No one but me and Rafe… and now you.”
Sarah’s face softened with understanding, her eyes filled with empathy after having listened to Y/N, like a priest at confession. She exhaled slowly her words quiet,
“JJ is pretty mad at you,” Sarah said her voice careful but not accusatory, “I don’t think he understands why you’d—”
“-that’s not my problem anymore.”
Y/N cut her off, her tone sharper than she meant. She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face in frustration before pursing her lips and shaking her head softly, speaking out,
“You heard what he said… ‘I’m not a Maybank.’ ”
She repeated the words, as if to remind herself just how much they stung. Sarah looked at her for a long moment, “It’s not that simple, Y/N. He’s hurting. JJ cares about you- more than he lets on. And he doesn’t know how to deal with this. I know it’s not easy, but I think you two need to talk.”
Y/N shook her head again, almost to herself this time. “I don’t know if I can. It’s not about JJ anymore. I can’t keep trying to fix things with him. I've been doing that for too long- I’ve always made sure he’s happy Sarah, but now… I think I should focus on what’s best for me.”
Sarah gave a small understanding nod, her eyes flickering down to the cigarette in Y/N’s hand, the older girl noticed, causing her to hold it up to her. Sarah took it, lifting it to her lips and taking a slow pull. The smoke lifting above the two of them like a small cloud.
“I get it. But I think you owe it to yourself to have that conversation with him to tell him what's really going on.”
Y/N exhaled slowly, sliding down the wall so she was crouching by the floor, tapping the cigarette ash onto the paving on the floor. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that, but deep down, she knew it was something that needed to happen.
She owed it to herself
And to JJ
The quiet between them stretched on, thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The last of the cigarette smoke curled up into the night air, disappearing into the sky as if it was never even there. Y/N stared at the glowing ember on the floor beside her, the weight of everything she had just said settling deep inside her.
"I... I love your brother Sarah."
The words hung in the air as she suddenly spoke out, her voice trembling slightly, as if confessing it out loud to someone else except for him made it more real. Y/N didn’t look up. She couldn’t. Her eyes were fixed somewhere near the dark patch of pavement between her shoes, her heart thrumming beneath her ribs. Sarah’s expression softened, her eyes widening a little in surprise. She had never imagined hearing those words come from Y/N’s lips- not because she didn’t believe it but because she never thought anyone would be brave enough to admit that about him.
Her brother?
Sarah was silent as if trying to find the right words, but Y/N was too focused on the quiet to look at her. It wasn’t until Sarah’s voice broke the stillness that Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Sarah’s. “I think he loves you too,” Sarah said,
“From what I can tell... I think he loves you a lot.”
Y/N finally looked up at that and Sarah pushed off from where she’d been leaning and crouched down besides her, her back against the same wall now, their shoulders a few inches apart. She rested her arms over her bent knees, then looked sideways at Y/N who gave her a small, tired smile and Sarah, after a beat, said gently but plainly,
“But... I know JJ loves you too.”
Y/N’s smile faded, and she stared ahead for a beat, her throat tightening as she let out a breath through her nose. Sarah didn’t say anything after that, almost as though afraid she’d pushed too hard. The older girl whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost lost to in the cool breeze of the evening,
summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.
a/n: only took me half a year to post x
warnings: SMUT!!!, angst, alcohol, mentions of drugs, heavy violence, mentions of past abuse (bruises ect), soft!rafe and Soft!bunny (they're so domestic)
The sunlight was soft when it filtered through the curtains of Rafe’s room, casting pale light over the walls and bed. Y/N stirred, her lashes fluttering open as her eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar light. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. The sheets beneath her were expensive and smooth, not like the ones at home, or now what used to be home. Then her gaze drifted, and she saw him.
Rafe
Lying on his side, one arm slung carelessly over his torso, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His face, usually set in a smirk or a tense scowl, was soft in sleep, he looked peaceful.
Vulnerable even.
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.
She stayed still just watching him, too afraid to move in fear of waking him. There was something painfully human about the way his lips were parted slightly in slumber. She remembered the way she’d slipped into his bed hours ago; quiet, hesitant and desperate for comfort. How she’d whispered “I love you too” to his sleeping back with her heart thudding so loud in her ears she was sure it would wake him up.
But he hadn’t stirred.
Now in the light of day, the weight of everything settled heavy on her chest. Her body ached from the bruises, from exhaustion but there was another ache too... a quieter one.
She shouldn’t be here.
He’d broken his promise. He'd told the one person she'd asked him not to her deepest most sacred secret and yet he came when she called.
Held her.
Helped her.
And even now dead asleep by her side he was giving her the only peace she’d known in days. She needed to breathe. To think. To be away from him for just a little while but even the idea of leaving the warmth of this bed sent a cold pang through her chest. Carefully, Y/N slipped back from him and rolled onto her side. The mattress dipped slightly as she moved but Rafe didn’t wake. She paused, watching him once more, her eyes lingering on the way the sunlight kissed his cheekbone, then she pushed the covers back and stood. Her bare feet hit the hardwood floor with a soft tap. She moved gently, trying not to make a sound as she crossed the room. Her hand brushed the doorframe on her way out. The hall was quiet the echoes of her footsteps felt loud in the silence, she padded down the stairs slowly, one hand trailing the banister.
In the kitchen, the early light spilled across the counters. She moved toward the sink, resting her hands on either side of it, gripping the edge like it might keep her steady. She didn’t cry- she’d done enough of that. But her chest rose and fell with a sharpness that lingered because here she was, in Rafe Cameron’s kitchen, in one of his T-shirts, with his scent still clinging to her skin and his care hanging in the air like smoke she couldn’t get rid of.
She didn’t know what to do.
So she did the one thing she did know how to do... provide.
Her hands moved on instinct, like her body remembered before her mind caught up. She opened the cabinets trying to figure out where things are, she found a boxed pancake mix shoved near the back of the top shelf and stood on her tip-toes to grab it. Then the fridge creaked open, humming low as she grabbed eggs, milk, and a pack of bacon. It was strange, how easily she fell into the rhythm of it. She cracked eggs into a glass bowl, the sound splitting the otherwise silent house. Her fingers whisked the yolks into a golden puddles and the sizzle of bacon followed not long after, curling in the pan as the smell filled the air.
She didn’t know why she was doing it.
Maybe it was habit?
Maybe it was all these years of survival. She flipped a pancake onto the griddle, her movements automatic now, and for a moment her mind drifted, pulling her back. Y/N smiled faintly, a tired little tug at the corner of her mouth as she stood over the stove, flipping another pancake. The bacon crackled beside her and the smell made her chest ache in a bittersweet way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Y/N, what’s that smell?”
A groggy voice called from the hallway of the home, the sound of feet padding against the floorboards following swiftly after. “Bacon,” she called back without looking up, standing on her tiptoes to reach the back burner.
“Don’t touch it!”
JJ, barefoot and messy-haired, shuffled into the kitchen like a zombie. He was still in the oversized T-shirt he wore to bed, the neckline too loose meaning on elf his shoulders was on the edge of slipping out, he rubbed one eye with the back of his hand. “Don’t touch what?” he asked, already grabbing a slice of bacon straight from the paper towel it was placed on.
“JJ!” she shrieked, swatting at him with the spatula. “You’re gonna burn your mouth are you crazy!”
“Worth it,” he mumbled between chews, grinning widely. She rolled her eyes a she shoves the last few rashers of bacon on to the pan looking over her shoulder to him, “Go do the pancakes if you wanna eat so bad.”
“Yes chef.”
He saluted lazily as he spoke. Of course, giving JJ pancake duty had been a mistake. The first one came out raw in the middle, gooey and sticky as he slapped it enthusiastically onto the plate. The second one, burnt to a crisp so badly it resembled charcoal.
The third?
Somehow both...?
By the time she turned around, the kitchen smelled like smoke, and he was fanning the pan with a paper plate.
“Seriously Jay?” she deadpanned trying to suppress a giggle as she snatched the spatula from his hand.
“Eh- I’m more of a bacon guy anyway”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rafe blinked against the sunlight filtering through the curtains, his brows furrowed in confusion as the scent of bacon reached him. It threaded through the halls, faint but enough to coax him from the comfort of his sheets. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair and for a second his mind wandered to a dream he'd had- Y/N showing up at his door in the middle of the night, slipping into bed behind him, her arm wrapped around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. He raised his hand rubbing his eyes and blinking to focus his vision, then he looked over at the other side of the bed.
The sheets were slightly rumpled.
He got up.
The wood floor was cool under his bare feet as he walked toward the stairs. He didn’t rush but he didn’t even realise he was holding his breath until he reached the landing and heard the soft clatter of a pan being set in the sink.
And then he saw her.
Her back was facing towards him and she was standing at the stove in one of his T-shirts. She was plating breakfast like it was something she’d done a hundred times before; stack of golden pancakes was already layered onto two plates alongside scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. She moved carefully like she was still trying not to wake the house.
For a moment Rafe just stood there.
There was something about her face- calm and focused, her mouth pressed into a neutral line even though he knew her whole world had crumbled just hours ago. The night before was still etched into the bruises on her arms. He watched the curve of her cheek as she reached for a spatula, the small crease between her brows as she concentrated on stacking the pancakes just right. Her movements were so thoughtful. She looked like a woman trying to hold herself together with butter and the smell of bacon.
She turned, pan in one hand, and as she moved to the sink she froze mid-step eyes landing on him standing there, watching her. Her eyes widened, but only for a second. Then she looked down, fumbling slightly as she set the pan in the sink, her voice coming quiet and a little uneven, “...Oh. I, uh—” she cleared her throat and her eyes flicked to his for the briefest second before darting away again,
“I made you breakfast.”
Rafe just stood there, throat tight for another second before stepping further into the kitchen, barefoot on the tile, the morning light brushing across his shoulders. He moved slowly, like if he made a wrong move she might bolt, disappear all over again. His voice was soft when he spoke, a quiet rasp still dusted with sleep.
“Shouldn’t I be the one making you breakfast?”
She didn’t turn right away. Just stood there at the sink, fingers pressing into the edge of the counter like she needed something to ground her.
“I mean-” he added gently, “cause you're my guest and all...”
She exhaled a shaky little breath, then turned to glance over her shoulder. Her eyes flicked to his long enough for him to see the way her walls were trying to stay up. “Well,” she said, voice light but brittle,
“I didn’t know how else to thank you.”
Rafe’s brow softened as the words slipped past her lips,
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
She looked down at the plates then, the golden pancakes stacked perfectly, eggs fluffed just right, bacon crisped at the edges. It wasn’t as fancy as she first thought it was when she was making it, so undeniably a sense of doubt started to creep into the corner of her mind- did he think this was dumb? Did she make a mistake cooking all this in the first pla-
He reached out and took the plate she’d made for him.
“Thanks,” he said simply, “It looks great.”
The two of them sat at the kitchen island, forks clinking gently against ceramic plates. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable but at the same time it felt like they were both walking barefoot across something fragile. Y/N cut into her pancake slowly, eyes flicking down then across at Rafe for a moment before lowering again. Rafe took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. He glanced at her just once, then leaned back slightly in his chair.
“This is good”
He hummed mouth half-full. She didn’t lift her head, just gave a small nod, nudging a piece of bacon into the yolk of her egg before mumbling,
“You’ve got good produce.”
That made him let out a short laugh- dry and a little surprised. His fork scraped against the plate as he looked at her.
“Right- It’s the produce.”
“Hey, I’m being serious.”
She looked up then almost frowning. His grin deepened just slightly as he leaned his elbow on the counter, watching her with quiet amusement.
“Sure thing”
He replied, still warm and teasing. She didn’t smile, not really, but there was a subtle softening at the edge of her mouth. Just a flicker, but he noticed. The way she kept her movements controlled, like she was trying to convince herself she was okay or at least that she could pass for it. He saw through it but he didn’t push Instead, he played along and let her have this one bit of normal. Because if sitting here eating pancakes and talking about produce helped her feel even a little bit safe, then he’d keep pretending. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just nodded slowly as she ate. Then she cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to her plate.
“I used to make breakfast for JJ,” she said after a pause, thumb brushing a syrup trail from the side of her plate. “Back when we were kids...”
Rafe stayed quiet, listening to her speak.
“He would always sleeping in late… but I’d still get up early, I don’t even know why. Habit, I guess.” She shrugged a little, then chuckled. “Used to put him on pancake duty sometimes just to make him help. But he’d burn every single one, every time. Like charcoal... and the fat ass would still eat them.”
Rafe smiled, soft and genuine.
“He used to steal all the bacon before I even finished cooking. I’d turn around and half the plate would be gone, and he’d be pretending to look innocent with bacon grease on his face.”
She went quiet for a second, staring down at the food on her plate. The memory had started sweet but the weight of the present hung heavy in the space between now and then. JJ wasn't stealing bacon anymore… he could barely look at her. Her throat tightened, and she looked away like she was suddenly embarrassed for sharing.
For letting him in.
His fork scraped softly across the plate as he reached for a piece of bacon and leaned back slightly on the stool, watching her without making it obvious. Rafe swirled a piece of egg around the plate, not really eating, more just pushing it around. His voice cut through the gentle clinking of cutlery, soft and unexpected.
“My mom used to make breakfast like this.”
She looked up, blinking. He wasn’t looking at her just sort of staring past her shoulder, through the window behind her into the gardens of the house. Then he shifted slightly looking away, fingers brushing the rim of his coffee mug.
“I used to eat breakfast with her in the mornings,” he murmured, “before school back when… she was still around.”
A quiet smile played at the edge of his mouth and Y/N’s gaze flicked to him, listening.
“She made these ‘healthy’ pancakes,” he continued, a small smile barely touching the edge of his mouth as he raised one hand making a little quotation mark. “She’d mash up whatever fruit was going soft. I never really liked fruit but I used to steal Sarah’s off her plate when she was little. Not even quiet about it and she’d be screaming that I took the best one even though they were all the same.”
That made Y/N huff gently through her nose in amusement.
“I used to lie and say it wasn’t me.” Rafe finally looked over at her, “My mom always knew it was me, every time” he said. “But she never got mad- she’d just… cut another pancake and slide it onto Sarah’s plate like it was nothing.”
His voice had gone distant, as if he could still see it. Like it lived in a corner of his mind he didn’t open very often. His eyes drew away from her as he glanced back down at his plate.
“I think she liked that we were all at the table. Together.”
Neither of them said anything for a long moment. He took a bite, chewing slowly and the girl opposite him mirrored the action as they ate in silence once more. From everything she’d ever overheard, his mom was one of those subjects people tiptoed around. Yet here he was retelling a part of his past which sounds like it happened yesterday instead of years ago. The scraping of the utensils on the porcelain plates came to a stop as the round dishes now lay empty from both sides. Rafe’s eyes flicked back to Y/N steadily but much softer than before. Like something unspoken had eased between them.
“I haven’t thought about that in a while,” he admitted, his thumb dragging along the edge of his napkin before he rubbed it against his jaw.
“I actually haven’t eaten a meal with someone like this in a long time…”
He glanced down again, folding his napkin in half, then setting his fork and knife neatly beside his empty plate. His coffee cup was almost drained, the last sip resting cool at the bottom and he picked it up looking down into the cup and then set it down again, almost like he didn’t want the moment to end.
“So… thank you,” he said quietly, the words sincere.
“This was nice.”
Y/N studied him, something loosening in her chest. She could see it clearly now- how genuine he was being. She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re welcome.”
Rafe shifted a little, leaned back on the seat. His hand dragged up over his buzzcut, fingers raking through the short strands in an almost nervous motion.
“You know, I uh… I think we could do this more often.”
“…What do you mean?”
She blinked, her hand frozen halfway to her coffee cup and he looked at her now more intentionally.
“Well,” he said, almost like he had to ease himself into it too, “if you stay here- we could do this every morning.”
Her fingers lowered her mug to the counter without taking a sip the ceramic clink loud in the silence. Her brows knit slightly, lips parting just enough to let the question slip through.
“Stay here?”
Rafe’s gaze held hers for a beat before he shook his head a little, as if sorting his own words out before he said them. As though debating if he should push the subject further.
“I don’t know if you remember, but when I came to pick you up yesterday you said—”
“-I said I had nowhere to go.”
She finished for him, the words tumbling out before his could, a small frown drawing her brows down. He paused, a little surprised at her firmness or maybe because she remembered it too.
“Yeah,” he said, “That’s what you said.”
There was a moment where the air seemed to shift so he continued speaking, slower this time,
“So… you can live here. For as long as you like.”
Y/N stared at him. Not in disbelief- though there was some of that circling her thoughts- but more in stunned silence, like her mind needed a minute to catch up with what her ears had just heard.
Live here?
She hadn’t expected that.
Not from him.
Not after what she’d said to him.
And yet his voice wasn’t teasing. His posture wasn’t guarded and she could tell he wasn’t saying it to manipulate her or trap her- because she’s seen that side of him before. He was just offering. Her eyes dropped for a second to her hands wrapped around her mug and she could feel her pulse in her fingertips. When she looked up again, Rafe was still watching her; evidently waiting. Her eyes lifted slowly, hesitant.
“I… I can’t.”
Rafe shifted slightly in his seat, setting his coffee down and leaning forward his forearms resting loosely on the kitchen island.
“Why not?”
“Because—”
Her voice faltered, her lips parting before pressing back together in a tight line. She dropped her gaze to the napkin next to her fingers and she began folding the edge over and over, like the motion might give her something to hold on to. Rafe just watched her patiently and after a moment, he tried again. “C’mon Y/N,” he said, his tone a little less sure.
“Why not?”
She swallowed hard, the napkin now twisted tight in her hands. “I just—” she said, shaking her head, more at herself than at him.
“I can’t, Rafe.”
He leaned back slightly, one hand curling over the back of his neck, rubbing it as though trying to ease something out of his spine. She exhaled hard through her nose, eyes still fixed on the napkin in her hands.
“I shouldn’t even be here right now.”
Rafe tilted his head at that, studying her moving so that his elbow braced against the counter.
“Where else would you be?”
She opened her mouth but nothing came out because the truth was- she didn’t know. She didn’t have a single answer to give. Her whole life, there had always been a place to fall back to, even if it wasn’t much of a home. At least it was a roof over her head and a door that locked. Even if the walls were thin and her father only let her stay because her money kept the lights on and the fridge full.
But now?
Now she had nothing.
No keys.
No door.
No place where she felt wanted.
And Rafe knew it.
His finger tapped against the cool marble of the counter then it stopped- he placed his palm down onto the stone, resting his weight onto his hands. “You don’t have to figure everything out right now,” he said, voice low. “You can just be here for as long as you want. No expectations or anything, no pressure just—” He paused, his jaw tightening as he scrubbed a hand across it trying to ease the tension.
“Just stay Y/N.”
Her fingers stilled on the napkin, pressing flat against the tissue as she slowly lifted her gaze. He wasn’t making some vague offer or dangling the idea out of guilt or pity. He was offering her space like he actually wanted her here.
It scared her.
But it also settled something deep in her chest.
“Just for a little while”
She said quietly and Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave hers as she spoke. He nodded once, the corner of his mouth twitching- not quite a smile, but close.
“Yeah- just for a little while.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The soft light of the morning filtered in through the guest room window, Y/N stood barefoot in the ensuite bathroom the counter cold beneath her fingertips as she braced herself in front of the mirror. She hadn’t brought anything with her when she left; no bag, no change of clothes, just her car keys, phone and whatever dignity she could scrape together after being thrown out like she was nothing. Now standing in front of a mirror that wasn’t hers in a house that wasn’t hers, she tugged on yesterday’s clothes- her work uniform crumpled from the night before. She exhaled through her nose, steadying her breath as she looked towards the mirror and tilted her chin just slightly.
There it was.
The edge of her jaw, yellow and purple and beginning to darken. The shape of her father’s hand still blooming across her skin like a quiet threat. Her eyes narrowed on it, shoulders tight as a he reached up and brushed a fingertip over the bruise featherlight, and still winced at the dull throbbing ache beneath it.
“Shit”
She murmured under her breath. She pulled her hand away and gripped the edge of the sink again, trying to push down the heat rising behind her eyes, she didn’t have time for this. She turned her head looking through the door toward the bedroom wall, catching the clock, Thirty minutes. That’s all she had before her shift started which meant thirty minutes to pull herself together, thirty minutes to figure out how to cover up the ugly bruise rising like a storm on her face. Y/N grabbed her cracked phone off the bed and scooped her shoes up in one hand, barely paying attention as she padded quietly down the stairs. The house was still warm with the scent of lingering coffee. She didn’t hear anyone… maybe Rafe had gone back to sleep.
She sat down on the bottom step, ducking her head as she slipped her shoes on. The fabric of her white polo was wrinkled and slightly smudged from when she'd been shoved hard onto the floor. The scuffs on her knees were visible and as she leant over to tie her laces she tried not to think about how raw the skin on her palms still felt. A voice called from behind her.
"Where are you going?"
She flinched just slightly, then turned her head.
Rafe was walking toward her from the hallway, brows drawn low in confusion. He leaned his shoulder against the opposite wall, arms folded across his chest as he looked her over- his gaze pausing at her crumpled uniform, then at her cheek which was not properly illuminated by the light spilling in through the windows by the front door. She looked back down quickly, pulling her second shoe tighter.
"I'm going to work," she muttered.
"Seriously?"
"Yes seriously, Rafe," she snapped, standing up quickly and brushing her hands over her polo crossing her arms now mirroring his stance.
"I have to go to work or I’ll get fired. I’ve already taken shifts off."
He stayed quiet for a second, then he let out a breath his voice low but sharp,
"You’re going to work in this… state?"
She frowned, eyebrows pulling together. "This state?" Her voice was flat, defensive. "What’s that supposed to mean?" He pushed off the wall stepping closer, "Jesus, Y/N.” Then, he gestured toward her-
“You’ve been beat black and blue. What do you mean, 'this state'? You’ve got a bruise on your cheek, both your knees are scuffed up — I mean, look at your palms." His voice softened a little there, but it didn’t lose its urgency. "They’re still raw." He shook his head.
"Why the hell are you going to work?"
Y/N sighed, a slow, deep breath that left her shoulders sagging just slightly. Not because she was backing down but because she knew he was speaking the truth. She sank back down onto the stairs with a quiet exhale, fingers knotting together in her lap.
“I can’t lose my job too.”
Rafe stood across from her arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. He looked down at her for a beat, and then said firmly,
“You’re not gonna lose your job for taking a day off.”
She let out a dry laugh, one without any humor. “You don’t get it.”
“I’m trying to—”
“No, you don’t understand Rafe.” She snapped, sharper now, lifting her head to meet his eyes. She cut herself off, jaw clenched as she searched for the right words.
“You’ve never had a shitty fucking manager who waits for you to mess up so they can make an example out of you,” she muttered, bitterly. “Never had coworkers who wouldn’t lift a finger to back you up because all they care about is their own paycheck. You’ve never had to beg to stay on the schedule, never had to swallow your pride just to keep the lights on. You’re your own boss- you don’t answer to anyone.”
Her words hung in the air and for once Rafe didn’t argue. His arms slowly dropped to his sides, and he nodded, he looked like he wanted to reach for her- but he didn’t. “You’re right…” he said finally, voice low.
“I don’t understand.”
There was no anger in it. Just honesty. And something else, too- frustration, maybe? Not at her, but at himself, at the fact that no matter how much he wanted to help he couldn’t change the life she came from.
Couldn’t erase it.
But then, he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, already unlocking it. Y/N furrowed her brows.
“What are you doing?”
Rafe didn’t look up as he swiped across his screen. “Just making a call.”
“A call to who?” she asked, suspicion curling around her words.
He glanced at her, tone casual. “To get you a day off.”
“Rafe they’re not gonna give me a day off just because you ask nicely. That’s not how it works.”
Y/N let out a humourless laugh and he stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face her fully,
“I don’t understand- I probably never will.”
She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his tone as he continued, “I am my own boss. I don’t answer to anyone- people answer to me so I might as well use that to make it easier for you.”
Her mouth parted slightly, the words caught somewhere between her chest and throat. Then, without another word, Rafe turned and started walking up the stairs, the phone already pressed to his ear. She heard his voice trailing through the open space, professional, as he disappeared down the hall toward the office. Y/N stayed where she was, shoes still half-laced, watching as he stepped into the room and pulled the door nearly shut behind him. She stared for a beat longer, then lowered her gaze, biting the inside of her cheek.
Part of her wanted to fight him on it.
The stubborn part.
The one that said she had to earn everything, prove she could handle it by herself. But the other part- the aching, tired, scuffed-up part- just wants to sit there in the quiet house, trying not to cry at the fact that someone was finally showing up for her. She pushed herself up from the bottom step, her muscles aching in quiet protest as she made her way upstairs. She padded softly down the hall, her footsteps barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. The office door was cracked just slightly open, and she paused there, resting her hands on the doorframe for balance, her fingers curling gently around the edge. Rafe stood near the window, his back to her, phone still to his ear.
“Yeah, that’s great. Pleasure speaking to you… what was your name again? Martin? Yeah... thanks so much have a good one.”
She watched as he slid the phone into his back pocket, shoulders rolling slightly as he turned around. His eyes lifting and landing on her. She was leaning there, half in the room, half still out in the hallway. Her eyes were watching him with that same mixture of stubbornness and something softer underneath.
Curiosity.
He turned towards her looking down to where she stood by the doorframe, before tipping his head towards the guest room.
“Go get changed”
She furrowed her brows. “…Why?”
“Because you’ve got the day off,” he said easily. “So go have a shower. Get changed. Sleep, if you want.” She blinked up at him before a small smile teased its way onto her lips.
“Have a shower… do I stink or something?”
“Didn’t say that.”
Rafe huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head as he bit back a smile. She looked at him as her eyes squinted a little in confusion,
“How… how did you even do that?”
He shrugged, arms folding across his chest like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“I’m Rafe Cameron.”
“Oh God.”
She rolled her eyes, but it was playful. He grinned, just a little and then she looked up at him again, and this time her voice was quieter.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head but she nodded slowly,
“Yeah I do Rafe.”
The way she said his name, like it meant something more than it used to, made something flicker behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything right away, just looked at her for a moment longer before stepping out of the office. “Go,” he said again, gently this time. But as she started to shift her weight off the doorframe, he added,
“I gotta head out for a few hours. Need to deal with something.”
“Are you sure you want me here? I can go—”
“Y/N”
He cut in, with a dry sort of tone, brows raised slightly like he couldn’t believe she even asked. She blinked, mouth shutting. “Right,” she murmured, ducking her head.
“Stupid question.”
“If you want to get changed, use my stuff… you know where my room is.”
Her eyes flicked up to his face at that just for a beat and then dropped again just as quick. She didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. The implication hung in the air thick like smoke: he knew. He knew she’d been in his bed last night, curled up by his side like she belonged there, like she had nowhere else to go and nothing left to lose. Then his voice cut through it.
“You good…?”
She cleared her throat, eyes still cast down. “Yeah- yeah. I’m good.”
He lingered a second longer, like he wasn’t quite sure whether to believe her then he just gave a small nod, turned and started down the hall. She stood there in the doorway for a long moment after he was gone, her fingers slowly loosening their grip on the wood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She lay back against the comforter her damp hair leaving little imprints on the pillowcase, the towel wrapped snug around her body the only thing keeping her warm. Sunlight drifted in through the sheer curtains casting soft lines across the guest bed but her mind felt far from calm. Her fingers curled over the edge of her towel as she stared up at the ceiling. Rafe had been gone maybe an hour, maybe two. She wasn’t sure. The minutes bled together when she wasn’t doing anything.
All she could think about was him.
How he’d stood there this morning his arms crossed but voice steady, doing everything he could to help her without pushing too hard. How he’d made that call like it was nothing. How he hadn’t even flinched when she snapped back at him but he just… took it. Even after what she said to him, after he’d told her he loved her and she couldn’t even look at him properly.
“Don’t say shit like that.”
“I don’t want to talk to you, okay?”
“Stop.”
“I can’t do this with you, Rafe. I just can’t.”
“Just let me go home.”
Her stomach turned.
Why the hell was he being so good to her?
She’d left him in that parking lot. Walked away like he hadn’t just stood there with his heart in his hands... like she hadn’t felt it too. And now- now she was here in his house, sleeping in his bed, borrowing his clothes, letting him take care of her like she hadn’t made him feel like a fucking idiot for caring. She shifted slightly, one arm coming up to rest across her forehead.
He should be pissed at her.
Or cold towards her
Or done with her
Instead, he was so gentle with her, like she hadn’t tried to shut the door in his face and maybe that was what made her chest ache the most. Not the bruise swelling on her cheek or the scabbing on her palms but the fact that Rafe Cameron still wanted her around, even when she was at her worst. Even when she didn’t feel worth anything. She exhaled through her nose her eyes fluttering shut.
She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve this version of him but a part of her, the one that has been bruised long before last night, kept wondering if she’d ever feel safe trusting someone like this again.
Still, she was here.
The vibration startled her, her phone buzzing against the wood of the bedside drawer breaking the silence. Y/N blinked slowly, pulling herself out of the spiral in her head as she reached over and tugged the towel tighter around her chest.
Sof : hey where are you? :(
Sof : is everything okay???
She stared at the screen for a beat, teeth sinking into her lower lip. Jesus, what was she even supposed to say? Her thumbs hovered then slowly she started typing.
Y/N : yeah just dealing with some shit rn
Sof : what’s going on?
Y/N : my dad kicked me out yesterday
The reply was almost instant.
Sof : what?
Sof : he kicked you out what do you mean
Y/N : he found out.
The typing bubble from Sofia appeared, then disappeared. Finally her reply slid onto the screen.
Sof : the pregnancy?
Y/N : no
Y/N : about the strip club
Sof : Jesus
Sof : I’m so sorry my love
Y/N : don’t be it’s not your fault.
Sof : why didn’t you call me?
Y/N sighed softly resting her head against the headboard as her thumbs began moving against the screen again.
Y/N : it was really late sof and ik you had a morning shift today
Sof : are you hurt?
Sof : is that why you’re not in?
Y/N : something like that
Sof : do you need me to come help you
Y/N : no no don’t do that I’m fine.
There was a legnthy pause between their messages. Then the phone buzzed once more and a message that made her heart skip appeared on the small glowing screen.
Sof : if he’s kicked you out where are you right now?
Y/N stared at the screen
Shit
She could already hear Sofia’s voice in her head- the hesitation, the concern, because Sofia knew everything and she also knew that Rafe Cameron was the last person Y/N said she’d ever want to lean on again. The girl dragged her bottom lip between her teeth and stared down at the blinking cursor in her message box.
Y/N : I’m safe I promise.
But she didn’t press send just yet because safe in this case didn’t mean simple. So Y/N took a breath, eyes lingering on the last message and she deleted it before she started typing again.
Y/N : I’m safe I promise.
Y/N : I’m staying with a friend.
Sofia : right
Sof : and that is?
Her heart thudded a little harder in her chest and she hesitated as she chewed at the inside of her cheek then typed:
Y/N : you don’t know him
Sof : cut the bs Y/N
Sof : where are you
Y/N : I’m staying with Rafe.
The screen stayed still.
No typing bubble.
No message.
Y/N sat up a little her grip tightening slightly around the towel wrapped around her. Her phone remained still in her hand the seconds stretching.
Then—
Sof : Cameron
Y/N : yeah
She could feel it- the way Sofia was probably sitting there, trying to come up with something that wasn’t just “what the fuck”-
Sof : What the fuck
Spoke too soon
Sof : I'm sorry what
Sof : are you being serious with me
Y/N : yes
Sof : what the hell what are you doing at his place Y/N
Sof : does he even know about what’s going on or…?
Y/N exhaled fingers moving quickly now;
Y/N : I called him last night after it happened
Y/N : I panicked Sof I didn’t know who to call
Sof : he picked up?
Y/N : yeah he did
Y/N : he came to pick me up and brought me back here
Y/N : he’s even offered me a place to stay
This time Sofia took a minute to responce,
Sof : wow
Sof : is he being genuine?
Y/N stared at the question for a moment.
Y/N : I think so
She could picture Sofia on the other end of the phone sitting in the tiny country club break room, probably hunched over her phone with her brows furrowed, biting at her cuticles- even though Y/N always tried to break her outof the habbit.
Sof : Y/N you told me yesterday you wanted nothing to do with him...
Y/N : I know Sof I’ve thought about it
Sof : have you now
Y/N : Jesus Sof I don't know what to do
Y/N : I know I was mad at him I was so fucking mad at him and upset and dissapointed but now I just dont know he's been so good to me
Y/N : so good
Y/N : and as much as I want to stay mad at him I can't beacause I think I'm in love with him
Sof : you love him?
Y/N : Yeah
Y/N : well
Y/N : I don’t know
Y/N : I’ve never felt like this before and I know he’s an been an asshole but I just don’t know anymore.
Sof : He picked you up in the middle of the night after you said you never wanted to see him again and now he's letting you stay with him
Sof : You really think he’d do all that if he didn’t care?
Sof : You know guys like him don’t just do stuff like that for anyone
Y/N : I know
Y/N stared at the screen.
Sof : If I had to take a guess
Sof : I’d say he loves you too
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The black Range Rover cut hard into the dirt driveway outside Barry’s trailer, tires kicking up dust as Rafe slammed the door shut behind him. His eyes were sharp as he strode toward the trailer where Barry was crouched by his dirt bike, tools scattered around him. Barry looked up, a slow smirk forming as he let out a low whistle as he drawled out, wiping grease off his hands.
“Who’s got your panties in a twist cuz?”
“What do you know about Luke Maybank?”
Rafe didn’t waste time as he spoke back only for Barry to shrug without looking up, a careless expression on his face, “Shi’ man. All I know is he likes his ambien- dat’s 'bout it.”
“I need his address.”
He scoffed running a hand over his buzz cut clearly not satisfied with the answer he got and Barry chuckled shaking his head.
“You think I’m sum secretary or somethin’? Don’t know where he lives.”
The frustration hit Rafe hard, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might grind together and shatter. Suddenly, he spun around abruptly, slamming his palm down on the white plastic table outside the trailer. The table vibrated sharply; a few empty beer bottles teetering and crashing to the ground. Rafe muttered through gritted teeth, the anger heavy in his voice.
“Fuck”
Barry stood straight now brushing his hands on a grease stained rag before tossing it carelessly onto the dirt bike. He cocked his head, eyes narrowing.
“Can you not trash my crib man?”
He said a clear note of warning under the teasing. Rafe didn’t answer right away his shoulders tense, fists still clenched at his sides. The he spun back around, the dead, dusted grass crunching under his shoes as he locked eyes on Barry and gestured a hand toward him.
“Call him- tell him you got a fresh stash.”
Barry blinked and leat back against his rusted trailer with a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. “Why the fuck would I do that?” Rafe took a couple of heavy steps forward the dry grass snapping underfoot.
“Cause I told you to?”
“What, you my boss now Rafe?”
Barry smirked, folding his arms and rocking on his heels. He let out a low, amused chuckle whilst running a hand over his hair pausing momentarily before his grin grew wider, eyes peering up with a sharp edge.
“This about your little bitch at the strip club, ain’t it?”
Rafe’s teeth ground together audibly as the words passed Barry’s lips and he caught the change in tension and let out a slow, knowing laugh.
“Shi’ man… you attached or what?”
Without warning Rafe lunged forward, grabbing Barry roughly by the red cotton of his top and yanking him close. The coarse fabric crumpled under his fingers as his voice dropped to a low growl, deadly serious.
“You’re gonna do it right fucking now, d’you hear me? You’re gonna call that piece of shit and tell him to come over here. Is that fucking clear?”
“ight, ight country club. I’ll do it- tranquillo.”
Barry’s hands shot up palms wide in surrender although still slightly amused by the ordeal as Rafe shoved him back hard enough to make him stumble slightly. He pulled out his cracked phone thumb already scrolling through his contacts as the acrid sun beat down on the two of them, his thumbs lazy typing out a message before pressing send. Then he leans back against the trailer, arms crossed as he shifts his weight. “So am I right... or what?” he says eyes looking Rafe up and down.
“What was her name again- Bunny right?”
Rafe lets out a dry chuckle rolling his eyes, “Y/N,” he replies. Barry shakes his head, clapping his hands together with a satisfied smirk.
“Well I ain’t wrong then am I?”
The tension in Rafe’s jaw relaxes just a bit and Barry gestures toward one of the beaten-up plastic chairs beside the trailer. He drops into it with a scrape of plastic on gravel, patting the empty chair across from him, “sit,” he says nodding. Rafe exhales slowly the tightness in his chest easing as he strides over and lowers himself into the chair. He runs a hand over his jaw, eyes flickering back to Barry as he leans forward, elbows on his knees,
“Why you so worked up man? You don’t lose your shit like this anymore.”
Rafe clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms for a moment before he looks up his voice rough. “He beat her up.” Barry blinks, momentarily serious. “Damn.” He shakes his head,
“...didn’t know your ‘little bunny’ had it that bad.”
Rafe exhales rubbing the back of his neck as he looks ahead of them, the tall trees swaying slightly in the afternoon breeze. The dirt crunches under Barry’s boots as he stands up,
“So what’s the play now? You gonna put that piece of shit in his place?”
“Yeah”
Rafe’s jaw tightens his eyes hard as flint and Barry watches as the kook pushed himself off the plastic chair, fingers tightening around his signet ring, the battered symbol of everything his fucked-up family’s ever stood for.
“He’s gonna fuckin' wish he’d never laid his hands on her.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The dirt bike rattles to a stop in front of Barry’s trailer, kicking up a loose spray of gravel around it. Luke cuts the engine muttering a curse as he steadies himself; he’s clearly a little buzzed, one foot dragging as he dismounts the bike. Sweat clings to the collar of his shirt, his hair damp and his skin flushed. Barry doesn’t even glance up at first still crouched by the bike he’s been tuning, wiping his oil-slick fingers on a rag. “Maybank” Barry calls finally standing and stretching with a slight crack of his spine.
“I got your shit.”
Luke stumbles forward with a nod, already pulling crumpled bills from his front pocket. “Yeah- yeah great,” he mutters, squinting down as he tries to count them, licking his thumb with a hiccup of his drunken breath.
“How much again?”
Barry doesn’t answer, just stands there watching him, the stillness between them starting to stretch too long. Luke finally looks up. “What?” he mumbles irritably.
“Why’d you call me? You said you had a fresh stash right?”
Barry jerks his chin toward the busted lawn chair a few feet away. “Take a seat. Let’s talk.” Luke narrows his eyes,
“I’m good-”
“-sit down man.”
Barry’s voice sharpens and the man blinks at the tone- stiffer than he’s used to from the dealer. After a moment of hesitation he mutters something under his breath and sinks into the chair, the cracked plastic groaning under his weight. He leans back trying to look casual but there’s a crease forming between his brows now. Barry walks over to the dented metal cooler near the steps of his trailer and pops the lid, pulling out a beer he cracks it open with a hiss before taking a long, deliberate swig. He leans one shoulder against the nearby railing, watching Luke over the rim of the can.
Barry moves from the railing and drops lazily into the second chair not too far from Luke and stretches his legs out in front of him, beer bottle resting on his thigh, eyes not leaving the older man across from him. Luke shifts, sensing something’s off so he clears his throat and tries to play it casual.
“What do you uh- want Barry?”
Barry leans forward slightly, “Y’know… you been a customer a long time now.”
Luke bobs his head tapping his fingers anxiously on his thigh, “Yeah, yeah... I'm loyal.”
Barry looks like he’s about to say something else his mouth opening to speak but Luke cuts in sitting up a bit in his chair now, voice a little too eager.
“So since I’ve been loyal… think I could get somethin’ a little stronger tonight?”
“You want a bump?”
Barry snorts amused, head tilting to the side. Luke’s already reaching for his pocket, pulling out a crumple of bills and laying them down on the plastic table between them. He smooths them out quick and clumsy and then leans back expectantly. Barry just stares at the money.
Doesn’t reach for it.
Doesn’t even blink.
Then he laughs, right in Luke’s face.
“You think that’s enough?”
He asks, still chuckling. Luke shifts again licking his lips. “No, no—I know it’s not. I just… I’m a little tight right now, but I’ll get it to you. I swear.” Barry swirls the bottle in his hand, watching the foam rise to the neck before letting it settle.
“You ain’t got no money?”
“I do,” Luke insists, his voice pitching slightly.
“My daughter- she’ll give me some.”
Barry raises an eyebrow his gaze sharpening at the mention of the girl. “Your daughter huh?” Luke nods, a little too fast. “Yeah, I’ll find her. She- she’s probably at a friend’s or some shit like that...”
“You don’t know where she is?” Barry leans back the beer bottle resting against his bottom lip now, his expression unreadable as he watches the man. Luke’s lips part momentarily in a pause before words tumble past his lips again,
“No- I mean, yeah, I do. She ain’t home cause-”
“-Cause you kicked her out.”
The voice is ice-cold cutting across the humid, sticky air like a blade. Luke freezes mid-sentence, his eyes snapping to the side. Rafe stands at the bottom of the trailer steps, his arms crossed tight over his chest, biceps flexed under the sleeves of his t-shirt and his jaw sharp with tension. Luke’s face pales, blood draining from it like someone pulled a plug at the bottom of a bathtub.
“What the hell’s this?”
He mutters sitting forward his unease evidently rising. Barry, still in his chair, takes another lazy sip of beer like it’s just another evening on the Cut. Rafe doesn’t move, but his voice is low and controlled when he speaks again.
“Go on- Finish your sentence.”
Luke’s already rising from the chair, a confused scowl warping his face. “The fuck are you—”
But he doesn’t get to finish because Rafe’s on him in an instant, stepping forward and shoving both palms hard against his chest, slamming him back down into the seat with a crack of strain from the old plastic legs. The chair groans under the force, dirt crunching beneath it as it drags slightly from the impact. “Finish your sentence,” Rafe growls his voice a low snarl.
“Where’s your daughter huh?”
Luke shoves at his hands, trying to push himself up again. “I kicked her out,” he snaps back defiantly, his breath hot with stale beer. Rafe’s jaw flexes his lips curling into a humorless scoff. He paces back a step nodding like he needed to hear it said out loud. “Yeah, you did,” he says,
“You fucking kicked her out after you beat her black and blue.”
Luke's eyes narrow and his head swivels to Barry now, desperate, eyes darting. “What is this?” Barry shrugs, finally setting the empty beer bottle down on the table with a dull clink. He raises both palms, expression almost amused.
“Just here for the show.”
Luke’s barely processed what Barry's said when Rafe’s hand fists the front of his t-shirt and yanks him up out of the chair with one swift jerk. “Get the fuck up,” Rafe snaps, shoving him roughly out from behind the table. The plastic chair scrapes and topples with a clatter as Luke stumbles forward, catching himself on unsteady feet. The dirt kicks up around them, warm air thick with tension and dust. Luke turns back toward Rafe, fists half-raised, teeth gritted.
“You think you’re tough? Just cause she let you play hero for a night?”
Luke lets out this smug little scoff his head tilting as he sizes Rafe up like he’s suddenly got the upper hand, “Where’d you meet her?” His tone drips sarcasm, teeth flashing behind that alcohol-slicked grin. “High-end kook like you- look at the fuckin’ watch on your wrist.” His eyes flick down to the glinting Rolex hugging Rafe’s wrist, catching the sun.
“Yeah... you met her at that club didn’t you?”
Rafe doesn’t move but his jaw locks tight enough to snap bone. Luke only grins wider at Rafe's lack of response, emboldened by the silence. He steps closer his breath thick.
“What, you stuff a couple bills in her panties and now she’s lettin’ you fuck her huh?”
The next words are spit with venom, ugly and sharp.
“Cause she’s a slut-”
CRACK
Rafe’s fist connects with Luke’s jaw before the last word even finishes leaving his mouth. A sickening crunch fills the air as Luke’s head snaps to teh side and his body stumbles with it, knees buckling under the impact. Blood spatters from his lip instantly blooming red across his teeth and he drops with a thud. Rafe stands over him his chest heaving, fist still curled and twitching at his side. His knuckles are split blood already rising causing a red hue to spread across his skin. “I dare you to call her that again,” he spits out barely restrained.
“Fucking dare you.”
Luke groans as he pushes himself up, boots scraping through the dirt. He spits a thick string of blood from his mouth, the red splattering across the dry ground with a smack. Wiping the back of his hand across his split lip as he stares Rafe down, rage simmering just beneath the surface.
“She’s a slut”
He snarls, the word hurled like a weapon sharp and hateful.nRafe doesn’t blink his chest rising and falling and his neck taut. Luke smirks, that same cruel gleam in his eye.
“And you’re a dumbass for believing whatever little fantasy she’s feeding you.”
Rafe lunges.
The tension snaps as he crashes into Luke, fists flying. The force drives Luke back into the table with a loud bang, the plastic legs groaning before one buckles, sending it toppling sideways. Beer bottles roll into the dirt the glass clinking and cracking. However, Luke doesn’t stay down this time. He shoves Rafe off with a grunt his fist swinging up hard, landing a solid shot to Rafe’s ribs. A grunt tears from Rafe’s throat but he barely stumbles, surging back. He grabs Luke by the collar and slams him into the side of the trailer with a metallic clang, the whole structure rattling. Dust clouds the air and Luke grits out a laugh, even as blood runs from his nose.
“You fighting for some pussy?”
Rafe snarls, slamming Luke into the trailer wall again, the sound echoes through the yard. The older man barely has time to suck in a breath before Rafe’s fist crashes into his face again.
Once
Twice
Bone meets flesh with sick, brutal cracks. Luke crumples to the ground with a grunt, hitting the dirt hard. A cloud of dust kicks up around him, clinging to the blood smeared across his face but Rafe isn’t done.
Not even close
He drops down on top of him, knee pressing into Luke’s gut to pin him whilst one hand fists the front of his shirt as the other keeps swinging. Each hit is heavier than the last even though his knuckles are already split, blood spattering across Luke’s cheek, temple and the dirt below them. Luke’s arms flail weakly trying to cover his face but Rafe swats them aside like nothing. The sound of impact is wet and horrible, flesh on flesh, Luke’s nose is broken blood now pouring out freely soaking into his collar.
Barry stand and lets out a low whistle watching for a second before he moves. “Hey!” he finally shouts out, voice sharp and cutting as he moves forward.
“Enough”
But Rafe doesn’t stop, his shoulders are heaving and his body curled over like an animal, fist raised again.
“Rafe- Rafe! That’s enough, man!”
No response.
Rafe’s pupils are blown, teeth gritted, his fist hovers in the air, trembling. Barry steps closer, hands raised but firm.
“You’re gonna kill him.”
Rafe still doesn’t move.
“You kill him out here,” Barry says quieter now, but dead serious, “and you’re gonna fuck it up.”
There’s blood smeared down Rafe’s arm, dripping from the tips of his fingers. Luke’s barely conscious now his face a mangled mess of red and swelling. He lets out a low, wet groan but still Rafe’s fist doesn’t drop. His eyes flicker- still brutal- but something about what's been said finally cuts through the haze. His hand falls but not in a punch, instead limp at his side. He staggers back a little, breathing hard, staring down at what he’s done. His own chest rising and falling like he’s just run for miles. Barry exhales, stepping between them now, hand on Rafe’s shoulder.
“That’s enough man. You made your point.”
Rafe doesn’t stay backed off for long though.
His breath still ragged and his chest is heaving, he steps forward again rage still simmering under his skin and he leans down and grabs the front of Luke’s blood-soaked t-shirt, jerking him up off the dirt with one brutal yank. Luke lets out a pained groan, his head lolling to the side eyes dazed, blood running down from his nose and lip. His hands scrabble weakly at Rafe’s wrist. Rafe yanks him closer their faces inches apart his voice low,
“If you ever fucking touch her again... I’ll kill you.”
His knuckles go white from the pressure as he jerks Luke even closer nearly nose to nose. Luke’s trembling hand pushes faintly against Rafe’s forearm, a useless attempt to create space but Rafe doesn’t budge. His teeth are clenched so tightly the muscle in his jaw twitches uncomfortably as he spits out,
“I’ll fucking kill you - do you understand me?”
Luke wheezes, a grunt of pain caught in his throat- Rafe lets go, shoving him back down with a vicious force and Luke hits the dirt hard, coughing as dust kicks up around his body.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The kitchen at Tannyhill was warm and the air was thick with the scent of roasted garlic and rosemary. Potatoes were crisping in the oven, their edges bubbling in a thin coat of butter and something rich simmered on the stove, a blend of slow-cooked vegetables and herbs filling the space with a mouthwatering aroma. Y/N stood at the counter, dish towel slung over her shoulder, she was almost done, potatoes ready to be turned and veggies needing one last stir. The front door opening then closing echoed in the walls of the house. She froze. Her hand hovered over the tray and her eyes cut towards the hall.
“…Rafe?”
Silence.
Her heart climbed a little higher in her chest.
What if—
“Yeah- it’s me.”
His voice- unmistakable- rang out and relief spilled out of her lungs all at once. She turned back to the tray, nudging the potatoes back into place with the spatula before plating them up. She wiped her palms on the kitchen towel, then reached for the spoon, giving the vegetables a slow, steady stir as her nerves settled. She the oven door open, a soft whoosh of heat rushing out and bent carefully, lifting out the roasted chicken, skin golden and crisped to perfection. Placing it gently onto a serving plate she then carried it over to the kitchen island. Behind her, she heard footsteps across the wood floor.
Rafe appeared in the doorway, drying his hands on a towel he’d clearly snagged from the bathroom. His sleeves were pushed up, knuckles still red and swollen. His eyes swept over the spread on the table before settling on her. He asked with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth,
“What’s this?”
“I made you dinner…”
She said, not quite looking at him as she checked the vegetables one last time. Rafe let out a quiet huff shaking his head.
“I told you to rest.”
“I did rest,” she replied lightly, glancing over her shoulder with a small teasing smile.
“But then I got bored.”
He let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and warm. “You’re unreal,” he muttered as he stepped over to the cabinets, pulling down two plates and grabbing cutlery. “Come sit,” she said,
“It’s pretty much ready.”
“Did you even sit down?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes I did,”
She insisted with a playful bite to her voice, watching him now as he moved around the kitchen, that ease which once used to be between them coming back like muscle memory. He turned to look at her then, closer now, and the playful air dimmed just slightly as his eyes dropped to the bruise blooming on her cheek. Without a word he lifted his hand his fingers brushing lightly along the edge of the fading mark. The color was ugly- yellowing, tinged with green and purple- but healing.
“How’s your cheek?”
He asked quietly, his hand hovering, not quite ready to pull away. She gave a small shrug at his question.
“It’s okay... could be worse.”
Rafe let out a hum at that, not agreement but in not comfort either. It was low and heavy, edged with something like dissatisfaction. Anger still smoldering under the surface of his skin. His thumb lingered just a second longer before he finally lowered his hand, jaw tight as he looked at her. She met his gaze then she blinked it away.“C’mon,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder.
“Sit down. Food’s gonna get cold.”
Rafe nodded, settling opposite her at the kitchen island and he glanced over the food laid out in front of him; roasted chicken, golden potatoes, vegetables glistening in olive oil and herbs. It looked like something out of one of those fancy food magazines. He exhaled a low breath, eyes still moving across the spread.
“… how long have you been here?”
“Not that long,” she said, brushing it off with a shrug, already reaching for the serving spoon. “Here.” She started plating food for him, giving him the best cut of chicken without even thinking twice about it. The way she moved, confident and familiar, it twisted something in his chest. He watched her plate up his food like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And for a second…his mind drifted.
To this.
To every night being like this. Her in the kitchen, his clothes over her frame, the smell of dinner filling the air. Him walking through the door to her, not some silent, cold and empty house. He imagined reaching for a beer from the fridge while she set the table, her rolling her eyes when he tried to sneak a bite before dinner. Her laughing at him… him kissing her forehead… maybe her hand resting on her rounded belly-
His thoughts twitched
"You’re a dumbass for believing whatever little fantasy she’s feeding you."
The words came back to him like static in his skull. Luke's voice, slimy and cruel, but still sharp enough to pierce straight through him. The truth of it tasted sour in his mouth because maybe he was a dumbass. Maybe this; this dinner, this warmth, this imagined life with her- it was all just some fantasy.
A lie he’d dressed up with hope.
She’d told him herself, hadn’t she?
“I can’t do this with you, Rafe.”
Right there in the parking lot, her voice shaking as she said it. He blinked hard, the heat from the food in front of him suddenly doing nothing to warm the cold pit in his stomach. His jaw clenched, breath caught shallow in his throat as she turned and handed him a fork with a soft, distracted smile.
“Thanks”
The rhythmic scrape of forks against ceramic was the only real sound between them for a while. Y/N let out a soft hum as she reached for her glass of water, the condensation cooling her fingers. After a sip, she glanced at him her voice light but laced with uncertainty.
“Is it okay…?”
Rafe didn’t answer right away, finishing his bite and swallowing as he nodded, licking a bit of sauce off his thumb. “S’more than okay,” he said,
“Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
“I worked as kitchen staff in the country club for a bit… learnt a thing or two”
“Yeah no shit… I can't remember the last time I had a home-cooked dinner like this...”
A small smile tugged at her lips and she looked down at her plate, shifting the chicken around absently with her fork, her stomach feeling warm not just from the food she’d consumed but from the knowledge he was enjoying it- that he was satisfied. But before she could relish in the feeling longer her appetite was suddenly curling away from her.
She had to tell him.
She could feel it pressing at her chest, that need to speak, to get it out of her before it dissolved into fear again.
He had to know how she really felt.
He had to.
Her eyes lifted, ready to finally say something- but then her words caught in her throat as her brows furrowed.
“What happened to your hands…?”
Her gaze had landed on his knuckles- raw, red and already blooming with deep bruises. The skin was split on one, crusted with dried blood. The smile faded from her lips as she set her fork down, the soft clink echoing sharper than expected. “Rafe,” she said again this time lower.
“What did you do?”
He didn’t answer right away, just reached for his glass, like he could find something at the bottom of it to help him lie. Rafe let out a sigh, set the glass down with a dull thud. “Nothing,” he said quickly. Too quickly. A shrug followed, like he was trying to brush it off before he repeated himself,
“Nothing.”
Y/N set her cutlery down, the clink sharp in the now tense space between them.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Her brows were pinched, eyes sharp as they searched his face. She knew him, knew when he was bluffing. He held her gaze for a second, jaw tight.
“S’not something you need to worry about.”
“I am worrying about it just answer my questi-”
“It’s nothing to do with you. Let it go”
Before he could say anything else, she pushed herself back from the kitchen island, the legs of her stool scraping against the floor.
“Y/N- wait. Where are you going?”
She was already walking toward the double doors at the front of the house, her bare feet silent against the tile. Her chest was tight with that mix of concern and dread she couldn’t quite name.
“Hey- hey-”
Rafe stepped forward, catching her wrist, turning her around. She pulled it back instantly. His shoulders dropped, “Just—wait,” he breathed.
“I’ll explain.”
She stood her ground, arms crossing over her chest like an armour. Rafe’s hand moved to his face dragging down the length of it like it hurt to even begin to explain. He swept a hand over his buzzed hair, then rested it on the back of his neck. “Can you…” He sighed,
“Can you just come sit down… -please?”
She hesitated for a second, heart in her throat, then gave the smallest nod and followed him back to the kitchen island. The chair scraped softly as she slid back into it and her eyes didn’t leave him. Not once. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap beneath the counter where he wouldn’t notice. Rafe stayed standing for a moment, pacing slightly, like he didn’t know where to begin. Then he dropped into the seat beside her with a heavy exhale. His voice was low,
“I saw your dad.”
The words hit her like a slap. Her entire body stilled, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat. She stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted but no sound came. When she finally managed it, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“…what?”
He looked at her, regret flashing across his face, but he didn’t take it back. “I saw him,” he said again, “tonight.” She shook her head slowly like she was trying to rewind time, like maybe she’d misheard him. Her voice broke off before the sentence could form.
“Why—why would you…?”
“Because he put his hands on you and no one gets to do that.”
Her lips pressed into a tight line. She blinked quickly, trying to process it all at once, but it was like the air had thickened around her and it made her throat burn. An odd feeling curled in her stomach- hard to name. At first, she thought it might’ve been anger or maybe dread. Creeping in like it always did when her father was brought up but as she sat there, staring at Rafe, something shifted.
It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t even sadness.
It was something… unfamiliar.
It was the first time anyone had ever stood up to him for her.
Not just talked back, not just muttered under their breath about how he was a piece of shit when he wasn’t around but really stood up- to his face.
For her.
And it did something to her. Broke something open maybe. This quiet, aching part of her that has lived so long in fear that she forgot what it felt like to be protected, to feel worth protecting. Her eyes burned, and she blinked a few times to fight it off, jaw tightening slightly. She looked at Rafe again; his busted knuckles, his face drawn tight with nerves, with guilt but not regret.
Rafe watched her quietly. She hadn’t said a word since he told her just sat there, eyes wide and a little glassy, like her mind had drifted somewhere else. He shifted on his feet, uneasy.
“Are you… angry at me?”
Her eyes snapped up to his, and she shook her head fast, the word cracking in her throat.
“No- no. I’m not angry at you. Why would I be?”
He nodded slowly, lips pressing into a thin line but something in him still didn’t settle. He pushed himself up from the chair he’d sat in momentarily and stepped towards her. She looked up at him as he came to stand in front of her. Her eyes caught the bruising on his knuckles again, but this time, she didn’t ask. Her breath just stilled in her chest. Rafe’s hand lifted, careful and slow, his fingers brushed over her cheek once more, the pad of his thumb soft against the bruise blooming along her skin. The touch made her eyes flutter for a second. “I promise,” he murmured, voice low and sure.
“He’ll never lay his hands on you again.”
She looked up at him slowly, voice barely a whisper.
“Why did you do it?”
Rafe doesn’t answer right away, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he breathes out slowly, eyes fixed on her face.
“Because no one else was going to.”
His voice is quiet but firm, like the words have lived in his chest for too long. She gazes up at him, stunned by the rawness in his tone, still trying to process the way her stomach twists, not in anger but something else entirely. And then, before he can stop himself he speaks out
“Because I care about you.”
The words tumble out, unpolished and exposed and he flinches like maybe he didn’t mean to say them aloud. Yet he doesn’t take them back, only watches her anticipating her response. Her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek, brow pulling ever so slightly.
“You’re not supposed to...”
His head dips slightly, a scoff of disbelief escaping as he rubs a hand over his chin.
“I can’t help myself Y/N.”
His eyes meet hers again, desperation now barely hidden behind his voice.
“I know what you said to me, okay? I know you don’t want this, that you think this thing between us is too fucked up or too complicated, but I-” He swallows,
“I can’t ignore it- I tried.”
He exhales roughly.
“When I think about you going back to him, to that house, and I think about the way you looked last night-”his voice falters for a second, almost breaking.
“I can’t pretend I don’t feel something. Not when it’s this strong.”
She bites her lip, the pressure of it grounding her, holding back everything she’s been too scared to say. But it doesn’t matter even if she were to bite her lip raw, the truth is clawing its way out of her chest, demanding to be heard. Her voice comes quieter than before, nearly a whisper.
“I came into your room last night.”
The words settle between them and Rafe doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink at first. Then his brows pull together, a subtle shift in his expression.
“I know…” he says, “I noticed the sheets this morning.”
There’s no accusation in his tone, more like something that feels a lot like hope. She nods, a small, almost nervous motion. Her fingers twist together in her lap. “I—” She hesitates, breath catching.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Rafe says nothing. Just watches her, eyes scanning her face like he’s trying to memorize every detail. Like he’s trying to figure out what exactly she’s trying to tell him as her eyes are glassy and her voice barely holding together.
“I couldn’t close my eyes all night but after ten minutes with you I fell asleep because I didn’t feel so- alone. When I’m with you I don’t feel alone...”
And there it is, the truth, trembling and delicate in the space between them. Rafe’s chest rises with a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His hand rests flat on the edge of the kitchen island, fingers lightly curled, like he’s anchoring himself there, like if he moves even a little the whole moment might shatter.
And her eyes drop to it.
Her breath hitches as her hand slowly lifts from her lap, fingers trembling faintly as she reaches out- barely brushing her fingertips against his. A ghost of a touch, but it’s enough to make his hand twitch beneath hers, his fingers turning instinctively to meet the contact. She keeps her gaze down. Her voice comes soft, almost like she’s afraid to speak too loudly and ruin it.
“I don’t know how to stop thinking about you.”
He doesn’t move.
“No matter what I’m doing, my mind just… finds its way back to you.”
She swallows, her fingers pressing a little firmer into his now, her thumb grazing over one of his bruised knuckles.
“And it scares me... because I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone.”
The silence thickens, but not in a bad way. She lifts her gaze finally, looking up at him through lashes damp with emotion.
“I don’t know when it started. I just know I can’t function without you anymore. And I know that I told you I couldn’t do this- but I didn’t mean it. I was scared. I still am. But not of you.” Her voice breaks, but she keeps going, the words tumbling out, ragged and honest.
“I’m scared of how much I feel for you but I’m more scared of pretending it’s not real.”
Her hand is fully wrapped around his now, and Rafe hasn’t said a word. He’s just looking at her like she hung the stars, like this is the first time in his life someone has ever said they need him and meant it. Finally, he lets out barely a whisper,
“Say it again.”
“What?”
“That you feel something for me.”
“I feel everything for you Rafe.”
She rises slowly from the stool, the scrape of wood against tile quiet beneath the heaviness in the room. Now, standing in front of him, she’s close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin, close enough to see the way his chest rises and falls a little unevenly. Rafe’s eyes flicker, from her eyes to her lips and back again. Her hand is still on his, their fingers tangled now and her other hand lifts gently, brushing against his arm. He doesn’t speak, he can’t seem to find the voice in his throat to say anything. So she does, her voice quiet but steady.
“I love you Rafe.”
The words feel too big for the air between them and his eyes close for just a beat like the words hit something deep in him he wasn’t ready for but needed all the same. When they open again, they’re glassy but locked on hers.
“Say it again.”
She steps even closer, her breath brushing his chin now.
“I love you.”
And that’s all it takes, he leans down slowly, giving her the chance to move away, but she doesn’t. Her hand slides up, fingers curling around the nape of his neck, and his free hand lifts to her waist. Their lips meet in a kiss that’s soft at first, like both of them are scared they’ll wake up and this will all disappear. But it deepens with every second- slow and aching and full of everything they’ve been too scared to say, everything that’s been building in the silence. When they finally part, just barely, their foreheads rest together, both of them breathless. Rafe’s voice is a whisper,
"You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he murmurs, his forehead still pressed to hers, his breath brushing over her skin. Then right before he leans down again he adds,
“Not with me.”
He catches her lips in another kiss, this one deeper, and she nods into him, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting softly against his as her hand curls around the back of his neck and her other drifts to his jaw, like she needs every part of him under her touch. Their bodies stay close, pressed together, and before she realises he’s moving them- walking them slowly through the kitchen his lips never leaving hers. He speaks between kisses, voice low and earnest against her mouth.
“Gonna give you everything you’ve ever wanted…”
She follows his lead, the heat of his hands anchoring her, the soft rhythm of their mouths like a slow dance. Her thumb brushes under his ear as he mutters again, lips ghosting over hers,
“Nothings gonna hurt you baby.”
Then her skin hits the cool edge of the leather couch behind her knees and he gently guides her down onto it. She sinks into the cushions, pulling him down with her, her hands still holding onto him like she can’t bear to let go. He settles over her his body not a heavy weight but rather wrapping around her like a shield, warm and safe. Between soft, slow kisses, he whispers the words that unravel something deep inside her,
“I love you.”
Not rushed this time. Not desperate. Just sure, the kind of love that’s been living in his chest far longer than he’s been willing to admit. Her breath catches, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes as her lips brush his one more time, and this time there’s no fear in her. The only sound shared between them is the soft rhythm of their breaths and the tender press of their lips.
His hand is cradling her jaw, his thumb brushing beneath her cheekbone with infinite care and then slowly it drifts downward. He kisses her again, a little slower this time, as his fingers slip beneath the hem of her T-shirt. She breathes out just barely against his mouth, not out of surprise but at the warmth of his hand resting against the bare skin of her waist.
His touch is featherlight and he doesn’t rush it. His thumb makes slow, smoothing circles over her skin, like he’s memorizing the shape of her; every curve, every shiver, every quiet breath she gives him.
She melts into him with a sigh, her fingers curling a little tighter into the material the back of his shirt. Her heart is racing- not from nerves, but from the way he’s touching her like she’s something sacred. He pulls back just a little to look at her, eyes dark and soft all at once.
“You okay?”
He asks and she nods, her breath shaky. “I’m okay,” she says, lips brushing his.
“I’m more than okay.”
Her hands move to his chest now, her fingertips skimming over the fabric of his shirt like she wants to feel the beat of his heart beneath it. And when he leans down to kiss her again, his thumb still tracing slow circles into her side, she arches just slightly into his touch- wanting to be closer.
Needing it.
The couch creaks beneath them as they shift, bodies fitting together like pieces meant to find one another.
Her fingers, once gently clutching the collar of his shirt, start to slide down skimming over the front of his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating hard beneath the fabric. The heat between them has shifted now, not frantic but more heady. She tugs lightly at the hem of his shirt, her breath still mingling with his, lips barely an inch apart.
"Take it off"
She whispers, the words a soft request against his mouth and his eyes open to meet hers.
"You sure?"
He murmurs, voice rough his forehead brushing gently against hers again and she nods, eyes never leaving his.
"I want you to… I want this. With you."
He leans back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind them without looking. Her breath hitches but it's not his shirtless form that leaves her breathless but the dark bruise blooming across his ribcage, purpling the skin in angry shades. Her breath hitches and without thinking her hand lifts, fingertips ghosting carefully over the mark.
“Jesus Rafe…”
He glances down like he forgot it was there then shrugs slightly brushing it off with a quiet,
“It’s nothing...”
But she doesn’t pull her hand away, her palm settles gently against his bruised side grounding both of them and she looks up at him- her gaze soft and almost- guilty. “No,” she whispers, shaking her head slightly.
“It’s not nothing.”
Rafe watches her, his chest rising and falling slowly with her touch and he reaches out placing his palm over her hand which rests upon the bruise, slowly dragging it up to rest it over his pounding heartbeat murmuring out to her,
“I’d do it a million times again if it means you’re safe.”
And something in her cracks open. Her brows pull together, eyes glassy as she leans in to kiss him again- deeper- like she’s trying to pour every unspoken thing into that moment. He’s reaching for her again his hands finding her sides, skin against skin, and his touch feels like warmth and safety and everything she didn’t know she was craving. Her fingers trail down his chest to reach for the hem of her own top, pulling it over her head and dropping it by the edge of the couch, her palms flattening against his bare chest as she arches into him just a little and she's whispering to him,
“Take it off”
Her hands lead his up her body, finding the strap of her bra where it rests along her shoulder. She glances up at him and he nods like he’s honoured she asked. He shifts gently, easing his weight off of her just enough to slip his hand behind her back, fingers carefully finding the clasp. It takes him a second for the tension to loosen, the band loosening around her ribs. She lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, and as he pulls the straps down her arms, her eyes never leave his face. He doesn’t look away, not even for a second. Once her bra comes off he lets his eyes trace every inch of her like the sight of her has left him stunned.
“I’ve been waiting for this for so long...”
A soft breath catches in her throat at his confession and her fingers find his face again, stroking gently along his jaw as his face dips down again his lips leaving a soft trail of kisses down her neck, scattering them across her skin like a bed of wildflowers in a field.
Her breath hitched and her hand slipped up to the back of his head as he kissed down her sternum- carefully worshiping the valley between her breast before he paused, eyes flickering up to look at her in quiet questioning. She released her tender bottom lip which was caught between her teeth nodding slightly. Before she could say anything else a soft hum passed her lips as his own closed around her breast, tongue gliding over her peaked nipple carefully waiting for her reaction. Her thighs widened slightly letting his body slot into place comfortably between her legs. His mouth worked against her, tongue languidly dragging across the sensitive skin whilst his other hand reached up, rolling her sensitive bud between his fingers causing her to let out a soft breathy call of his name. His hand trailed down the soft line of her body, fingertips pausing right at the waistband of the sweatpants she’d borrowed from him and his fingers toy with the hem, not pushing forward, just resting there. He lifted his gaze from her body back to her face, searching.
“We don’t have to do this today”
He said his voice low and sincere and she blinked at him before a teasing smile curved at the corner of her lips.
“I thought you said you’ve been waiting for this hmm?”
He let out an amused huff shaking his head,
“You make me sound like a perv.”
She laughed, a melodic sound that slipped into his chest and settled near his heart. “You kinda are,” she teased gently, running a hand over his hair. He sobered slightly, brushing a piece of hair out of her face before murmuring,
“I don’t want it to seem like I’m taking advantage of you.”
Her smile softened, and she reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “You’re not,” she said honestly.
“I want to do this with you Rafe.”
He stared at her, thumb brushing along her knuckles as though still trying to convince himself this was real.
“Are you sure-”
“-take my pants off before I change my mind.”
She cut him off with a dramatic sigh, hand coming up to hold his face firmly. He groaned through a grin, shaking his head at her sass as he leaned down to kiss her again, amused as he murmured against her lips,
“Alright smart mouth”
His hand slipped back down, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband this time and her breath caught in anticipation. He began to ease the fabric down she lifted her hips to help him slip the sweat pants off, leaving her legs bares, causing the cool air of the house to raise goosebumps across her skin. Then came his touch as he ran his palms down the outside of her thighs, like he was trying to warm her back up and he leaned in, brushing a kiss just below her navel.
Then another, a little lower.
And another.
Trailing down her skin in a path of heat, his lips moved slowly, like he was memorising her. She exhaled shakily, watching him through heavy eyes as his kisses traveled further down her stomach, past her hips, down the inside of her thigh- each one soft and lingering, almost worshipful.
Like he was praying with his mouth.
Like she was something holy.
His lips hovered over the soft skin of her inner thigh, and he looked up at her through thick lashes as his hands came up to lift her thighs, placing them over his shoulders. Instinctively her hand came to his hair her fingers slipping over the short, bristly strands. His hands slid up her legs and came to a stop at her hips, thumbs rubbing small circles onto her skin right above the band of her black panties.
"Was sort of hoping you'd be wearing those pink ones.. you know the ones that say-"
"-Bunny?"
She cuts him off as a smile breaks on to his face telling her all she needed to know. She let out a small humorous hum before speaking out,
"I'm sure that can be arranged..."
"Hmmm- I'd like that"
His murmured back, his head leaning down and she gasped as his breath ghosted over her covered pussy, her body suddenly feeling hotter, the ache between her legs impossible to ignore. He looked up at her then, his eyes darker than before.
"Tell me what you need Bunny"
He spoke his voice low. Y/N's breath hitched as she shook her head, trying to maintain some semblance of control. She hated herself for giving into him so easily, she'd always told herself if this ever were to happen she'd be the one in-control, she'd be the one placing the cards on the table. But she can't seem to find the strength to stop him, his touch is like a drug and she's not ready to deal with the withdrawals.
"I..."
Rafe merely smirked as he looked up to her, his pupils blown wide as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her covered mound.
"Gotta speak up baby"
Her mouth parted, trembling at his movements and she couldn't help but let out a pitiful whimper at his actions.
"Use your words"
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down her legs, throwing them somewhere across the room as he pushed her back against the couch; resting her thighs over his shoulders once more as he settled between her legs, his hand coming up to spread her folds, already damp with her arousal.
"I want you to touch me"
She breathed out as he looked up to her, his hands slowly running up and down her thighs, causing the heat between her thighs to become unbearable.
"Where d'you want me to touch you?"
He breathed out, his breath ghosting over her pussy making her hips buck into his face, to which his hand came down to her lower stomach, pressing her back down into the leather of the couch, his bicep flexing at the motion.
"Right here?"
"Rafe- plea-"
She started but was cut off when his mouth pressed against her, tongue delving between her folds with a hunger that made her cry out. She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling her moan as she writhed beneath him. "Don't," he spoke out, one of his hands letting go of her thigh to pull her hand away from her face, intertwining their fingers,
"I wanna hear you."
She couldn't help but let a soft moan pass through her lips causing Rafe to groan against her, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He licked and sucked, his tongue swirling around her clit with a skill that had her seeing stars."Rafe..." she whimpered, her hips bucking against his face, her hand in his hair pulling him closer.
"Fuck- just like that... please. Please don't stop"
He obliged, doubling his efforts as he brought his hand which was resting on her thigh down to her sopping wet hole which was desperately clenching around nothing. Sucking her clit back between his lips his middle finger came out, slowly circling her entrance before pushing in with ease, her pussy pulling him in with no resistance. A loud whine spilled from her lips and Y/N let her head drop back against the back of the couch, eyes fluttering shut as her heels dug into his back, her hips lifting to meet his mouth. She could feel the pleasure building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke of his tongue.
Rafe pulled back, fingers still languidly moving against as her eyes shoot open looking down to him. He's grinning up at her his chin glistening with her arousal. She whimpered at the sight of him her body shivering with need as she stared down at him with hazy, lust-filled eyes.
"That feel good baby?"
He murmured, his voice low and seductive. It wasn't a question but rather a statement, one that sent shivers down her spine. She blinked trying to process his words through the fog of desire clouding her mind as his fingers still worked in and out of her, curling slightly causing her to swallow harshly.
"Yes- yes-"
She whined out her voice breathy and needy.
"This what you wanted? My mouth against this pretty pussy..."
Rafe trailed his tongue up the thigh, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. She moaned, her hips bucking against his face as she sought more friction, more pleasure. "Yes-" she gasped, her hand which wasn't gripping the edge of the couch flying to the back of his head, eagerly pushing his back towards her pussy.
"Yes! Oh shit I- please Rafe"
He hummed the sound low in his throat as he pressed a kiss to her throbbing clit, his tongue delving between her folds with a hunger that stole her breath. She groaned out, her head tilting forwards to watch him indulge in her- her mouth falling open slightly as she rocked against his face. He licked and sucked, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as he held her in place. "Fuck," she whimpered, her body trembling on the edge of ecstasy.
"Don't stop oh- please don't stop."
He didn't, why would he when she was a such a writhing, moaning mess beneath him. Her body tensed, her thighs trembling around his head as she chased the euphoric feeling. She whimpered, her voice high and desperate.
"I'm gonna cum- I'm gonna fucking cum"
He grunted against her, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body which sent her over the edge. Her body trembled, thighs clamping around his head and her walls tightening around his fingers. Rafe's hips ground against the couch slightly to try ease the throbbing feeling in his briefs at the sound of her cries of pleasure as he continued to work her through her orgasm.
"That's it sweet girl"
He murmured out comfortingly and she could've sworn her vision blurred as the words left his mouth. When she finally came down she was panting, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Rafe pulled himself away from her slightly, sitting back on his heels. His fingers, which were soaked in her release, lifted up to his mouth, his tongue gliding over them, cleaning them free of her arousal. Y/N blinked up at him her body still trembling with aftershocks and she couldn't help but feel the heat rising in between her legs again at the lewd sight of him in front of her.
Rafe merely smirked his hand sliding up to cup her cheek, pulling her closer to him. Y/N leaned forward, pressing her lips to Rafe's in a kiss. He groaned against her mouth, his hand sliding up to rest on her hip as he deepened the kiss. She could taste herself on him, and some sick part of her couldn't help the twist in the pit of her stomach that she got to have him like this. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entry, and she granted it without hesitation. Their tongues tangled, a sloppy, wet kiss that left no doubt about what they both wanted.
Rafe’s hand moved as the other remained cupping her face, sliding down to grip her hip as he ground himself against her, his hardness pressing insistently into her through his jeans and she gasped into the kiss, the feeling of the rough denim against her making her shudder, her nails digging into his shoulders. His lips moulded with hers like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t breathe unless he had her right there.
“I need you.” He mumbled against her, “You don’t get it Y/N…” His breath hitched as his hand slipped to her spine, pulling her up against him.
“Fuck- I need you so bad it hurts.”
She pulled back slightly, her breath coming hot and heavy, her eyes searching his. She whispered her voice steady despite the burning heat building up inside her,
“I’m right here”
Without breaking their gaze, she reached down her fingers brushing against the buckle of his belt. Her movements were almost hurried, driven by a need that mirrored Rafe's. She undid the belt the, her hands trembling slightly as the sound of the metal clinking accompanied the sound of their heavy breaths in the silent room. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together to relieve the ache between them but his presence between them stopped her from doing so. His hand came down to help her pushed his jeans down along with his briefs, letting his cock stand tall against his lower stomach, his tip already glistening in his pre-cum.
"Look at what you do to me- can't even fucking think straight with you around me."
His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as he stared at her, his desire laid bare. Her hand wrapped around him, her fingers closing around his hard length and she felt him shudder at her touch. She began to pump him slowly, her grip firm but gentle, her thumb brushing over his sensitive head. Rafe’s eyes fluttered closed, his head dropping to rest in the crook of her neck. A heavy groan escaped him, his breath hot against her skin as he exhaled through his nose. He mutters, his voice thick with need.
“You’ve ruined me... fuck- you've ruined me for anyone else.”
His voice is rough and hoarse, his gaze locked on her hand moving over his cock and as his hips jerk in her grip. Her other hand slid up his chest tracing the contours of his muscles, her touch light and teasing. She leaned in her lips brushing against his ear before placing a soft kiss right below it, “Good,” she murmured her mouth brushing the edge of his jaw now,
“Because I don’t want you touching anyone else.”
Her words are almost sultry and his eyes roll slightly at the sound of her voice and before he could respond she shifted her weight, pushing him back against the sofa. Rafe’s flutter open at the sudden movement, a mix of surprise and arousal flashing across his face as he felt her straddling him, her legs bracketing his hips. He opened his mouth to speak but her lips crashed against his, tongues tangling hungrily as if they were trying to consume each other. Y/N's hands comes up from where they rest steadily on his shoulder to grip his face, mumbling out raggedly,
"Open your mouth"
He silently complies and she leans into him, wantonly taking his tongue into her mouth, her grip firm on his face as her cheeks hollow slightly as she sucks. Rafe let out what sounded like a low growl from his throat, his hands sliding down her back, his touch hungry as his fingers grip her ass before moving to run up and down her waist, pulling her closer. She ground down against him, her hips moving urgently, the friction electric, her core aching with need as she felt his hardness beneath her.
Y/N pulled away, pupils blown wide as her hand came up to wipe her fingers against the smudge of drool which collected by the corner of her lips. Rafe's hand moved to grab her wrist, guiding her spit slickened fingers to his mouth, his tongue swirling around her digits. As he slipped them out his mouth he brought her hand down, wrapping it around his heavy cock once more.
"You gonna give me what I want now hmmm... ?"
He breathed out against her neck, his nose running along her skin before his lips pressed against her, sucking hungrily, promising to leave a mark behind.
"Gonna be a good girl and fuck me Bunny?"
He cooed and Y/N couldn't help but shiver as she nodded to him, raising herself on her knees as Rafe shuffled beneath her, his hand wrapped around himself, slowly guiding his tip between her wet folds. A soft moan passed her lips as he bumped into her clit and her hands came out to steady herself on his shoulders. As he teased her weeping hole her mouth fell open,
"Rafe-"
"I know baby"
She couldn't hold back the loud moan which escaped her lips as she eased herself down onto him, her eyes fluttering shut at the stretch of him. She bottomed out against him, her own arousal dripping down onto his thighs.
"Fuccckk"
Rafe groaned out roughly, head tipping back against the couch momentarily as his hands griped onto her hips harshly to steady himself. "Fuck-", he choked out,
"So fuckin' tight"
He'd thought about this moments for months, every night when he couldn't sleep and his hand would slip under the covers it was her he would think of. And now that she was finally here, in front of him, so hot and wet against him- he had to squeeze his eyes shut and ground himself or else it would be over far too quickly.
As his eyes opened they found Y/N's as she leaned back and began to move, her hips raising slightly before dropping back down onto him. Her hands slid down to rest on his chest as she rocked her hips against him in a rhythm that was addictive.
“Fuck, you feel so good”
He groaned, his voice thick with desire as his lips trailed down her neck. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples sending shivers of pleasure through her body. Y/N moaned, her head falling back as she arched into his touch, her hips continuing to move in a rhythm that was starting to become desperate. She groaned out as she leaned down, her lips hovering over his.
“Tell me how good I feel”
“You feel so fucking good baby”
Rafe’s eyes locked onto hers as he spoke, his hands gripping her ass a little tighter.
“Like you were made for me.”
Y/N whined as she leaned into him, her lips brushing his once more, her body pressing down onto him with increasing urgency. The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing accompanied by the wet slapping of skin against skin and their tangled moans.
"So fucking perfect for me"
Y/N's eyes fluttered closed at his words, her head tilting back as she surrendered to the sensations flooding her senses. Her breasts rose and fell with each movement, nipples brushing against his chest with each rock of her hips- causing her to slip her bottom lip between her teeth biting down at the feeling. "Harder," Rafe spoke out, his voice a command laced with pure and utter desperation,
"Take me harder baby"
She didn't need to be told twice as her hips carnally snapped against his, her moans becoming unrestraint as she chased after that pleasurable peak building within her. Rafe's hands dragging over her skin as he met her thrusts, his hips bucking upwards and his hand slipping down to rub tight circles on her pulsing clit. He couldn't help himself as he looked down, watching his cock disappear in and out of her, a white ring of her arousal forming at the base of him causing him to feel completely intoxicated. Y/N's nails frantically dug into his shoulders- sure to leave marks that would serve as a reminder tomorrow.
As her cries of Rafe's name became whiner he could tell she was close to the edge of ecstasy, the pace of her rhythmic bouncing in his lap stuttering, which caused his hands to move to her hips, his grip firm as he took control.
“I’ve got you”
He hummed into her ear, his voice steady and reassuring. His hand pressed into the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her movements as he set a rhythm to help ease that tense coil within her which was ready to snap. Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed, her body trembling as she rested her hands around the back of his neck. “Oh fuck- Rafe!” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as her climax approached.
“Don’t stop-”
He didn’t, his hands moved with purpose, dragging her up and down his cock his own body tensing with anticipation. “Come for me,” he grunted out, his lips pressing against her neck, his breath hot against her skin.
“Let go baby I've got you.”
Y/N’s body slumped into him as her orgasm ripped through her, her forehead falling to rest against Rafe's as her walls clenched around him. He followed moments later, his hips jerking sporadically upward as he thrusted into her, shaking groans of her name passing his parted lips. Their breaths were ragged as they clung to each other, drowning in the pleasure of what had been building for months.
As their breathing slowed down Rafe shifted carefully beneath her, one arm cradling her back as he reclined guiding them both down until he was lying fully against the couch cushions and she was against his chest, her cheek finding its place right over his heart. One of his hands stayed on her bare back, the other reaching lazily toward the end of the couch, fingers snagging the blanket tossed over the armrest behind his head.
With a quiet tug he draped it over them, wrapping their tangled bodies in the soft warmth. The fabric brushed against her shoulders, and she instinctively tucked herself closer. Rafe tilted his head slightly his eyes heavy as he looked down at her his fingers tracing lazy, soothing lines up and down her spine.
“You cold?”
He asked his voice a quiet rasp. Y/N blinked slowly her lashes brushing against his skin as she shifted just enough to murmur,
“No… you’re warm.”
A soft sound left him- something between a hum and a chuckle- and his lips tugged upward in a quiet smile. His hand stilled for a moment, resting flat against her back like he couldn’t bear to not be touching her. “So…” Y/N murmured her voice barely louder than the soft rustle of the blanket shifting with them. Her fingers traced idle shapes along the skin of his chest,
“Does this make me your girl now?”
Rafe’s lips quirked upward in amusement but his answer came without hesitation,
“You were my girl long before this.”
She lifted her head just enough to look at him, searching his face for any sign of teasing- but all she saw was truth. His eyes held no doubt, only certainty and that made her chest swell. Without saying anything else she leaned in and pressed a slow tender kiss to his lips, one that lingered a little longer than necessary. Then she sank back down against him, settling into the now familiar warmth of his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath her ear became like a lullaby to her, eyes fluttering shut with every pass of his hand down her spine and every steady beat in her ear. Her breathing deepened and Rafe just watched her.
“I love you”
He whispered, lips brushing softly over the crown of her head as he spoke. Y/N smiled sleepily, her fingers still making slow, lazy patterns on his chest even as her body melted deeper into rest.
“I love you too Rafe”
And with her nestled against him safe and warm in his arms, Rafe closed his eyes too- vowing to himself he’d never let her go again.
hii! i absolutely loved the last fic based on back to friends and it made me think abt all the angsty rafe fics.
i was wondering if you could do a fic where rafe and reader are best friends but reader is in love with rafe but rafe openly calls her his best friend so reader moves on and rafe yearns for her?
YUP. love this. love angst. awesome.
I'VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU, JUST NOT LIKE THIS — RAFE CAMERON ONE SHOT
SYNOPSIS you’re rafe’s best friend. always have been. have you wished the two of you were more than that? only everyday since junior year of high school. but when he calls you his best friend, the mocking title you wear with a court jester hat, you come to the conclusion that that’s all you’ll ever be. so, you’ll start putting yourself first.
WARNINGS fluff, obbbvviously angst (miscommunication, two idiots not knowing how to emote properly, self sabotaging behavior), mentions of underage drinking/smoking, suggestive content but no actual smut. all that. bsf!rafe is so special to me. he’s such an idiot. not edited literally at all.
WORD COUNT 7.8k. very description heavy so sooooorrrry.
SONG OF THE CHAPTER infrunami by steve lacy
You've loved Rafe Cameron all your life.
The two of you have been attached to the hip since you were kids, play fighting and emulating Smackdown in the backyard and scratching up knees and elbows, triple-dog-daring each other to bridge jump in the middle of the night as rebellious teens, sneaking through each other's windows for impromptu sleepovers where you'd stay up until the crack of dawn talking about nothing and everything at the same time, mingling with your separate friend groups at parties but always finding your way back to each other by the end of the night.
You patched up his bloodied lips and iced his bruised knuckles. He opened doors for you and scared off any guys who came a little too close. From a young age, you knew you loved him. He was your best friend, the person who knew you like the back of his hand and still stayed despite your flaws. It never crossed the line. Ever.
But the moment you realized you were in love with him, all you could do was hyper-fixate on the fact that all you'll ever be is his best friend.
It wasn't a grand realization with confetti and sickly sweet hearts as an aura around his head.
You were seventeen, drunk at prom, and crying in the sand dunes after your date — Matthew from the lacrosse team who you'd been pining over for a year — stood you up to shack up with Natalie who you used to do Girl's Scouts with. No one noticed you slip out, as you were subtle and sneaky and frankly so fucking embarrassed that you wanted nothing more to do with the night. Everyone had been drinking or smoking too much anyway, and you sought that out as the perfect time to dip, pour your emotions out on the dunes of solitude, then mosey on home in hopes of forgetting about the whole thing.
But, of course, Rafe always kept tabs on you.
He found you not even five minutes later, knowing exactly what happened when he caught a glimpse of Matthew leading Natalie upstairs by the hand with you nowhere in sight. In an instant, he was sitting beside you a little too close (as usual) and slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you taut to his chest. And he simply let you cry, murmured sweet nothings in your ear on how that prick didn't deserve you anyway, holding you in a way he has a million times before.
But something in your heart clicked that night. Because you realized two things: that no one will ever know you the way Rafe Cameron does. And that you were in love with him.
Ever since then, all you've pinpointed is the fact that you'll only ever be his best friend.
You were his best friend throughout childhood, throughout high school, through graduation and the slobbery crying mess of a goodbye when you both left for different colleges, during semesters over the phone and even more-so when you came back for breaks, through his ups and downs of relationships with girls that weren't you, through all of it.
So when you overhear him tell someone at a party that "She's the best friend anyone could have," you pointedly decide to yourself that your heart has had enough.
You have to stop seeking his traits in other guys. You have to stop pretending that there's any kind of world that would sustain this giant, stupid, debilitating crush you have on him. You have to stop living in fantasy land and wake the fuck up, because it's not gonna happen and it never will.
You'll always love him, there's no doubt about it and there's no way you can remove him from your life (not that he'd even let you if you tried), but Project Fall-Out-Of-Love, FOOL for short, commences the moment the words leave his mouth. That night, you stay in the joint-rolling corner with your friend group, not finding solace under his arm or texting him five min break? halfway throughout the night to debrief. After all, he doesn't question it, probably thinking you're too engrossed with your friends as that happens from time to time.
But when you start relying less and less on him, Rafe spirals.
Of course, he doesn't outwardly bring it up, because the vulnerability would absolutely kill him and his dignity. But he notices small things here and there that simply don't add up: you've slowly stopped texting him when you're bored at home with nothing to do and simply go out alone instead, stopped hanging around him at parties or even sitting next to him on the couch when your and his friends get together for a chill night in, stopped throwing your legs over his lap or leaning your cheek on his arm or grabbing his hand when walking through a crowd.
The first couple of times you pull away, he finds himself making up for the absence subconsciously. When he gets himself a drink, he's automatically getting you one and bringing it to you without you having to ask just as an excuse to insert himself in the conversation at your side. When you're walking to your favorite breakfast spot to pick up your coffee, he's got a hand on the small of your back when you weave through people on the sidewalk. When you have an eyelash on your cheek, he's brushing it off with his thumb. When your necklace is off center, he's fixing it without a word. You never say anything and carry on with your day as usual.
He doesn't realize that his hands linger longer than they should when yours stop touching him.
And for the life of him, Rafe can't figure out why. He can't conjecture why you're the same... just without your hands. Instead of mussing your hands through his hair, you're telling him to fix it. Instead of fixing the collar of his shirt or adjusting the buttons of his button-down, you're giving tips on how to make it look sharper. Instead of pawing at his back for a piggy-back ride on your walk home from the bar, you're asking your friend. You're still you, laughing and poking fun at him and getting into all sorts of trouble like the two of you normally do. But he can feel a shift, a change, as you don't look at him longer than you need to and only touch him when it's necessary.
After a month of dancing around your change in demeanor, Rafe bites (more-so nibbles) at the topic.
"Feel like I haven't seen you lately," he murmurs one night, trying to keep his voice even and uninterested even though his heart is pounding.
The two of you are sitting on the couch in your apartment, on opposite ends which is unusual for you to create so much distance, watching an older movie with subtitles that he has a hard time focusing on. You, on the other hand, are intently paying attention, brows furrowed as you pluck popcorn one by one into your mouth, appearing as if nothing is wrong (and for all he knows, nothing is wrong, but you've stopped touching him for whatever reason and he's going crazy over the considerable amount of physical space you've put between you over the past month).
When you think you hear his voice, you glance his way only to be met with his stare.
"Hm?" You hum sweetly, almost startled. "You say something?"
Rafe opens and closes his mouth, darting his gaze between your eyes and hating how far away you feel.
But he's not ready to admit that, so instead he shakes his head.
"Didn't catch that last line," he says on the spot. "They're talking too fast."
Your brows raise. "Oh? Wanna put something else on, then?"
What he wants is for you to come and curl up next to him like you've done for every single movie night since the two of you were nine, to nuzzle against his side and end up falling asleep on top of him like you always end up doing by the end of the film, to feel you next to him and most likely fall asleep too, to know that he's going to wake up next to you and start his day with you.
However, Rafe doesn't say any of that.
Instead puts on his trademark smirk that stands more as armor than it does pleasantries. "Finally, thought you'd never ask."
The only time you touch him that night is when your fingers graze his when you hand him the remote, still flashing your sweet smile and rolled eyes at his prince-like behavior, something you've always poked fun at him for. The contact feels like a cruel joke, because your hand pulls away as fast as it came and suddenly he's tethered to nothing once again.
And it only gets worse.
The next week, you're late for the unplanned-planned hangout with all your friends in your living room.
Every first Friday night of each month, his friends and your friends come together to hang at someone's apartment - this night it being yours - and drink, play cards, be stupid and laugh about shit that doesn't matter. It's easily his favorite night of the month, one because he gets all of his friends in the same place but also because he gets to see you in your lax state, more often than not in your pajamas where he'll usually crash at your place or you'll crash at his. That's usually what ends up happening.
But not tonight, because you show up thirty minutes behind the unofficial meeting time looking prettier than ever.
At first, Rafe assumes you had a late presentation at work or some special affair that causes you to look so nice. But when you come closer and put your bag down and slip your shoes off, he notices a little bit of gloss on your lips and a smidge of glitter on your eyelids. Your shirt's a little more provocative than usual and you're sheepishly smiling to all of your girl friends' knowing looks across the room, widening your eyes slightly in warning as a I'll tell you later look.
It dawns on him that you were on a date.
Rafe can simply tell, and he suddenly hates that he can. He hates how he can notice your suppressed smile as if you're fighting a blissful grin. He hates how you're so dressed up and showing off your pretty to someone else, someone that isn't him, someone that probably doesn't deserve to see the real you. He hates how you seemed to tell everyone but him, and that breaks his fucking heart. Why wouldn't you tell him? Why aren't you telling him anything anymore?
When most of your friends leave and it's just you, your two roommates, and him, he bites.
"You went on a date."
It's a little silly, the timing of it all, because he feels a stupid sitting on the couch with you and your two best girl friends sipping cheap wine and gossiping about your love life. If his friends saw this set up, saw how much he cared and how he's practically in on girl talk, he'd never hear the end of it and that's a fucking promise. But Rafe can't seem to care, not in the slightest, because the question is detrimentally important that you could've put a face mask on him and that stupid headband you use, and he wouldn't say anything, only as long as you answer the question.
You quirk a brow at him, legs tucked underneath you that causes your dress to ride up a little. "Who told you?"
He ignores the looks from your roommates. "No one. Tell me."
Before you can answer, one roommate interrupts. "Tell us. How'd he pick you up?"
And to Rafe's horror, you tell everything.
You give a very detailed rundown of the entire night. How he picked you up with flowers, how he opened the car and restaurant door for you, how he paid for the meal and the drinks you got at the bar around the corner, how he wrapped his arm around your waist and asked to kiss you goodnight on the doorstep, how he asked to see you again this weekend and how you said yes.
He wants to leave. He wants to run out the fucking door and pretend he didn't hear any of it. But he can't, he's glued to the couch with an agape mouth and spiraling brain as he listens to you speak, watches how you smile, pays attention to what details you cling onto. The feeling in his chest is tight, too constricting and it's making him claustrophobic. His heart thumps erratically, threatening to burst through his ribcage the more you talk about your night.
"So? That's it?" Your one roommate Ainsley asks. "Just a kiss? Not even an ounce of fondling?"
You shrug and shake your head. "Maybe he's saving it for next time?"
"Hopefully it's a little more than fondling," your other roommate Cora muses, lips brimming the rim of her wine glass as she pointedly glances at you. "You deserve at least three orgasms. Minimum."
The image makes Rafe grimace.
Of course, you notice and laugh so fucking sweet that it does something weird to his chest. "Oh, please. You know how many times I had to hear about you fucking girls from the back in places AI couldn't even make up?"
Rafe knows he's overstaying his welcome and definitely intruding on girl talk. But he couldn't care in the slightest. The scowl is permanently etched on his face at the thought of you touching, let alone by touched, by someone else. It's selfish, he knows that much, but frankly he really doesn't want anyone to know you the way that he knows you. He knows your coffee order, your pet peeves and deepest secrets, your menstrual cycle for fuck's sake, the name of your first pet and the things you do when you're upset.
"That's different," he mumbles, downing the rest of his drink.
"It's really not," you argue playfully, eyelids slightly low with your drunken buzz. When you poke his thigh with your toe he nearly jolts, shocked at the first bit of contact you've initiated in what feels like forever. "It's just payback for all the times you made me listen to the intricate details of your hookups. So pour another glass and kick back, Rafey."
Despite the weird lurch in his gut, Rafe does what you say because it's frankly impossible to say no to you.
He doesn't even know why he's getting so worked up. Perhaps it's because you're physically pulling away from him since you're seeing other people. But he still doesn't understand: you've had boyfriends, you've told him about bad and good hookups and still never stopped touching him, never stopped doting on him and carrying on your friendship as normal. Why now? What's the difference between two months ago and now? What changed?
The thought keeps him awake. Rafe left your apartment hours ago and he still can't stop thinking about it, thinking about the strange sense of dread in his chest and how it feels like the end of the world when you talk about the possibility of being with someone else. He's lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, blinking the minutes away until the sun rises.
And when it hits him? It's all he can think about.
Because Rafe has loved you all his life.
He's cared about you more than he has anyone else, because you're the only person who was never afraid of him, who saw him through his brutal insecurities and helped him become a better version of himself. You held him when things got too loud and calmed him down when his mind was running amuck. You bandaged his cuts and bruises but not without a good scolding. You had no mercy tackling him in beach football every weekend in the summer. You told him when he was acting stupid and made sure he fixed up his act. He values you more than anything else.
But the moment he realizes he's in love with you, Rafe doesn't know how to act.
All it took for him to realize was your physical absence. Because perhaps he's been in love with you all this time, but could never distinguish it from that best friend admiration he's had for you his entire life. He gushes about you to others, how you're the best friend anyone could have, how smart and funny you are and how you always keep him on his toes and keep him in check.
Now, it’s all he can think about.
How your eyes light up when you laugh, how the sound of it immediately brightens a room, how you put everything to the side to help someone, how you know the way all of your friends like their eggs without even having to ask, how you can be the sweetest and funniest in the same breath, how you go through life making the flowers bloom at your feet with every step.
But there’s another added factor. More so a disadvantage. Because now his eyes linger in places they shouldn’t. When the loose collar of your shirt dips down over your shoulder, his breath hitches at the sight of your bare collar bone. When you wear dresses in the summer breeze, he can’t help but stare at your legs, and he has to force himself to look away when the hem rides up to further expose your thigh. When you speak to him, he fixates on the way your lips move, and he finds himself wondering how sweet you’d taste. He wants to worship you, kiss the ground you walk on, let his hands appreciate every dip and crevice of your body in the way he knows you deserve.
It haunts him. Plagues him. Rafe can barely sleep at the realization, at how disgusted he is with himself. You’re his best friend, for fuck’s sake, the girl who has been with him through it all. You’re someone he cannot lose, because if he did, he doesn’t know what he’d do.
“Rafe? Did you hear what I said?”
Your sweet voice startles him, knocking away his grueling thoughts with a simple sentence.
You’re cooking lunch with added ingredients to accommodate his spontaneous arrival. Sleep deprived, Rafe finds it difficult to be alone with the confinements of his mind, especially now, so he went for a walk to take advantage of the nice day. However, in the hopes of clearing his mind, his feet decided otherwise, and subconsciously walked himself to your apartment. You, being so kind, offered to make him a meal, saying that you were making one anyway, what’s one more?
So now he’s sitting at your kitchen island, twirling the family siglet ring on his finger in an attempt to calm him down, watching your back as you stand over the stove. But it’s proving less of a relaxing afternoon when all he can stare at is the planes of your shoulders exposed in a tank top. Every time you laugh, it makes his chest constrict. When you turn to meet his eye briefly to make a point, he finds himself automatically smiling regardless if you're berating him or not. He has to fight the urge to stand and hold you.
"Hm?" He hums distractedly, almost sheepish that he got caught in a daze. "What'd you say, pretty?"
Whether you hear the nickname, you don't comment on it, nor do you turn around. "I asked if you could save me some of Sarah's cookies when you go over tonight."
Rafe frowns. "Wait, you're not coming?"
You make a noise that resembles a snort and a laugh. "Do you ever listen to anything I tell you?"
A response rises and dies in his throat, because, yes, normally he does, he always tries to hang onto every word out of your mouth. But sue a guy if he was too busy admiring your pretty for a moment.
"Uh, that seems like a trap," he muses, trying to appear playful but frankly you're avoiding his question. "Not trying to be on your bad side."
"Smart."
"Never answered my question."
You shake your head to yourself as you add ingredients to the pan. "I have another date tonight with that guy. Nosy."
Rafe's heart drops. "You— I— What?"
The stuttering must amuse you, because you half turn around to sneak a peek at him, taking in his furrowed brows and parted lips as he stares at you with those bright blue eyes, looking confused and almost panicked. It's as if you told him two plus two is five. And even though you just said something to flip is world upside down, he can't deny how fucking pretty you look right now: face bare with the scent of your freshly washed hair filling the kitchen with a citrus aroma, clad in a tank top and boxer shorts that he's pretty sure are his.
The sight of it makes him go crazy.
"You know," you say pointedly, shrugging nonchalantly as if his gut isn't sinking to the earth's core. "The guy I was telling you and the girls about the other night?"
He blinks stupidly. "Wh— Yeah, I know. But you’re… He’s… Another one?”
“Are you okay?”
No, he thinks immediately. How could he be?
“Yeah,” he drawls out unconvincingly. “Why’re you seeing him again?”
You fully turn to face him, leaning against the oven handle, eyes searching his for an answer to his strange behavior. “I like him. Why does it matter?”
How long do you have? Rafe snorts to himself.
But all he can do is shrug, trying to dance around the obvious answer. “Because this guy could be a creep. You don’t know him.”
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, Rafe. That’s literally the point in dating someone. You get to know them.”
“I don’t like that.”
“You don’t have to?”
Rafe stares at you for a moment, blue eyes almost glossed with worry, desperate to say anything to get you to not go, regardless of how pathetic it makes him look. And you simply stare back accusatorially, quirking a quizzical brow and waiting for his response, curious to see what kind of excuse he’s going to come up with to get you to not go.
Where this sudden apprehension is coming from, you have no idea. He’s never been this invested in your love life, never been this forward on getting you to not date around. It’s comical, almost, to have him practically begging, but you can’t find the gall to laugh. Not when you’ve been craving this sort of attention for years, not when you’ve been wishing it was him all along for as long as you can remember, not when he’s looking at you right now as if his life will fall apart if you go.
The sizzling of the food on the pan interrupts your staring contest, and with a dejected sigh, you spin back around to tend to your meal.
“He’s not a creep, if it makes you feel better. He’s one of Ainsley’s coworkers.”
Rafe sucks in a breath. “So?”
You add more ingredients to the pan. “So,” you drawl out, “she can vouch for him. And I trust that.”
When you don’t hear an immediate response, you assume he’s seceded and dropped the topic. The sizzling of the pan fills the gap of silence, and you internally praise that your hands are busy so you can’t examine the way they’re shaking subtly at the practical confrontation.
Why now? Why does he give a shit now? When you’ve just started to get over him? It’s not fair, how he constantly pulls you back in just when you think you’re in the clear, out of the abyss that is your infatuation, until he’s saying something sweet or hugging you close enough to get your heart pounding all the same again. It’s a curse, loving him is the tide, pushing and pulling and pushing and pulling. All day. Every day. All the time.
“Don’t go.” You hear from behind you. “Please.”
You frown even though he can’t see your face, blinking stupidly at the pan as you decipher his words, hear the emotion in his plea, picture the look on his features. You don’t turn around. You can’t. You can’t have him pull you in again just to date someone else the next week. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. He has to know that, right?
“Rafe—“ You start quietly.
But the door swinging open interrupts you, both you and Rafe whipping your heads to find the culprit.
It’s Cora, one of your roommates, slugging two full bags of groceries and slapping them down onto the counter with a loud sigh, unknowing of the thick tension brewing in this kitchen right now. Rafe's eyes are solely trained on you, on the words that linger in the air and itching to know what you were about to say. You meet his gaze for one, two seconds before pulling away, looking back to your roommate slipping her shoes off.
“Smells good!” She chirps innocently, unloading her bags. “Whatcha cookin’?”
Despite his protests, you go on the date.
The night is fun, don't get yourself twisted, because Nate — who's all bright smiles and light laughter and honestly a nice breath of fresh air — takes you to a nice outdoor pavilion with food, drinks, miscellaneous activities such as mini golf and wine tastings and shopping for clothes that are way out of your pay grade. You hold his hand when you walk around the area and laugh when you're supposed to, drink the beverages he buys you and say your pleases and thank yous.
But you can't help the nagging feeling in your heart.
And you hate yourself for it, because Nate's great. He's charming, funny, easy-going, and someone you can definitely see yourself being with or being friends with. However, the entire time, all you can think about is your exchange with Rafe in your kitchen, how wrecked he looked when you told him about the date, the desperation in his eyes when you told you not to go, the way his fingers twitched in your direction as if he was itching to hold you.
It's delusional. You know. You know because you've been feeding them to yourself for years.
Your lips are still tingling from when Nate kissed you goodnight, trudging up to your apartment with a heavy heart and a befuddled brain.
Your mind spins. You want to like Nate. You want to dive off the deep end and forget all about Rafe Cameron, forget about how many years you've wasted pining over him knowing it was never going to be mutual. You want to look into Nate's eyes and not wish they were Rafe's. You want to be with someone without constantly comparing them to your best friend, which is something you've found yourself doing subconsciously. It's a plague eating away at your heart, chipping pieces away one by one until you're left with nothing.
It only proves more difficult when you turn the corner only to discover the one person you don't want to see.
He's leaning against your door frame, picking incessantly at his nail beds which is a habit you've tried time and time again to help him stop. A graphic t-shirt snugs his torso, the arms shaping the outline of his biceps as sweatpants hang low on his hips, as if he rolled out of bed to come and wait by your door. As to how he got in the building, you have no idea, but you wouldn't put it past him to have somehow found a mischievous way.
The click of your heels alert him, and Rafe snaps his head up.
You try to ignore his wide eyes and how he almost looks relieved that you're alone, eyes scanning quickly over your pretty dress before darting up to meet your gaze.
"Hey," he says gently, "how as it?"
You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out as you stand there puzzled. A million questions rise and die in your throat, mind reeling at the concept of him sitting here and waiting for you. He was supposed to see his sister tonight, another friend of yours, yet instead he's leaning on your door for support as he looks at you in a way that makes your heart thrum.
"Good,” you respond meekly, still desperately confused of his presence. "I thought you were sleeping at Sarah’s?”
He shrugs, but offers no words.
You catch a glimpse of his nails beds, red and irritated as you can put two and two together and guess that he’s been picking them all night. His hair is tousled, as if he’s been tossing and turning and fighting sleep and didn’t bother looking in the mirror before he ventured here. Sunken from exhaustion, his blue eyes simply stare at you with a softness you’ve only seen from him a few times, usually when he’s trying to butter you up with an apology, or when he’s deep in thought, or when something’s really bothering him and he’s internally building up the courage to say something.
You bite. “What are you doing here?”
“I just…” He starts quickly, but trails off with uncertainty, as if his mind is trying to catch up to his words. “Do you like him?”
“Wh— Nate?”
“Sure,” Rafe says immediately. “If that’s his name. Are you into him?”
You furrow your brows, taking a step closer to really see the desperation behind his expression. Your confusion morphs into compassion.
“Rafe, are you okay—“
“Will you just—“ He sucks in a particularly harsh breath and squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s composing himself to refrain from crashing out. “Please. Answer me.”
It takes everything in your power to prevent yourself from reaching forward to grab him, to rub a palm up and down his bicep or squeeze his hand to give a gentle reminder that it’s just you, that he has no reason to be panicking right now and committing acts of high treason against his nail beds. You fight the urge to brush his hair back out of his face and smooth down the wrinkles by the collar of his shirt.
But you don’t. You can’t touch him, as an ode to your dignity, and keep yourself at a respectable yet comforting distance. It’s not much, but to you, it’s progress of attempting to move on.
“I don’t know,” you mumble confusedly. “I…guess? I think so. He’s nice.”
Rafe furrows his brows through your spluttering. “You guess, or you think so?”
You groan, digging your key out of your purse and pushing forward towards your door. “I don’t know, I’ve met him twice. What’s with the interrogation?”
“I’m…curious,” he mumbles unconvincingly.
Moving to accommodate you unlocking your door, he shifts his weight between feet, and it’s daunting when you can feel his piercing eyes on your profile. You swear you hallucinate when you catch a glimpse of his hands twitching in your direction in your peripheral, as if he’s itching to grab you.
Delusional, you spat to yourself. Stand up.
“Are you gonna see him again?”
The door creaks open, and the sound of it mixes with your scoff of disbelief as you yank your key out of the lock with a particularly harsh tug. It’s no surprise that when you enter your apartment, he’s hot on your tail.
You slip your heels off. “Maybe?”
“Maybe?”
“He asked me to drinks this week.”
“What did you say?”
Stopping abruptly, you spin on your heel in the middle of your apartment to stare at him incredulously, even going as far as jutting your hip out for emphasis of your irritation.
“What has gotten into you?” You ask quietly, but he hears you all the same.
You cannot deny how fucking wrecked he looks, especially under the bright kitchen lights. It’s only now that you can fully grasp the desperation of his expression, how he looks at nothing but you, focuses on nothing but you standing in front of him. Slowly, but surely, Rafe begins shaking his head, body moving before he can even get the words out.
“Don’t go out with him,” he practically begs.
The breath momentarily leaves your lungs. “Why not?”
Rafe’s mouth opens and closes, gears turning in his head on figuring out what to say. But the words don’t come, instead he shakes his head, almost at himself, and scoffs as if the notion of you asking why is absolutely audacious, as if the answer is obvious.
But it’s not. Not at all. He’s throwing you for a loop. A long, windy, emotional strung out loop that never seems to end with him. You used to pride yourself on being able to read his mind, to be able to decipher his emotions as if you were reading a children’s book, but now, as he stands in front of you seemingly dripping in frustration, you can’t help but feel lost.
“You can’t just do that,” you say tiredly. “You can’t show up at my door in the middle of the night and ask me not to see someone without providing an explanation—“
“Because I’m in love with you,” Rafe interrupts gently, “and the thought of you being with someone else is fucking killing me.”
You falter.
Did you...hear him right? You couldn’t have, because how could the words you’ve been yearning to hear for years came and went as quickly as the tide? Spoken in one soft breath with a cadence of honey, of honesty, of desperation. He says it so surely, as if it’s law, as if nothing else in the world matters besides this, besides his feeling, besides this pull that he has towards you.
Rafe almost looks as shocked as you that he blurted it out. Well, you can’t imagine your expression, probably a humiliating mix of disbelief, shock, uncertainty, but it’s safe to say his brows are raised in surprise only for a moment, before settling on a softer gaze as he tries to read your reaction, takes in your befuddlement.
You suck in a harsh breath when he takes a step closer.
“I couldn’t figure it out,” he murmurs, eyes trained on you. “I thought I did something wrong when you stopped touching me, or sitting with me, and you were...you were still there but not where I was used to having you."
All you can do is stand frozen, watching him inch closer and closer.
Rafe sighs quietly. "But after you came home from the first date, I couldn’t shake this weird feeling. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't even fucking eat without feeling sick. It almost felt like I was losing you, like I’d fucking die if I couldn’t have you.”
Another step.
“Then it hit me. I—I tried to push it down because you’re my best friend and I couldn’t have you thinking I was just…lusting after you, because it’s not…"
He trails off, shaking his head lightly almost at himself and darting his gaze away momentarily, as if he's gathering his thoughts, calculating his response. And you don't dare make a sound, move a muscle, even hint towards doing anything that will drift his focus and make him lose what he's trying to say. It's agonizing, really, standing as still as a statue and holding your breath as if the world itself will fall apart if you do so.
The words he speaks almost make your knees buckle.
"A part of me has always loved you, just not like this, like—“ He takes a deep breath. “Like how I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you.”
Rafe stands inches away.
He takes in all your pretty, admiring you for a moment before settling for another long breath, figuring out his words with a newfound patience he’s never been prided for. And you almost laugh at the irony of it, of how his entire life he's been branded as the hot-headed basket case, the guy whose temper could implode at any moment, someone who was prompt and to the point and never saw the ideal in dancing around the subject. Now, it's entirely different, as he's apparently the epitome of I've got the time today.
“It’s selfish, I know,” he whispers softer than you’ve ever heard him. “But it’s true.”
When his palm experimentally hovers over your cheek, you don’t pull away, and rather stand frozen in your spot as all you can do is blink stupidly at him, digesting his words, digesting the moment. Then, gingerly, he allows his hand to cradle your jaw, holding you so delicately in place as if you’d break if he pressed any harder.
Sure, he's touched you before and more intimately like this. But now it holds a different meaning, the implication you've been wanting it to mean for so long. He's always held you in a way that almost grounds himself, though in this moment, as he skims the pad of his thumb just below your bottom lip, it's almost as if he's doing it to ground you.
“Breathe,” Rafe says gently.
You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.
The weight of the moment, of his confession, starts to sink in as you blink at him. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. You can't move, stuck in place as your mind runs awry as years and years of silently pining over him, once thought to be a fruitless attempt, now comes to laugh in your face. It's almost comical, almost, because there was a point in time where you never thought he'd ever feel the same, never thought he'd see you as something more than the girl he skinned knees with play-wrestling in the backyard, covered in dirt and grass stains and sweat.
"Tell me you don't want this," he adds after a minute of you finding the ability to breathe again, "and I'll walk away. I won't ever bring it up again."
You swallow thickly. "I— You— How come—?"
Stifling a soft smile, Rafe's fingers skim your hairline, eyes following his movements before darting back down to meet your gaze. "Easy. Take a second. It's just me."
One, two beats.
Finally, you find your (relative) footing. "You love me?"
"I'm in love with you," he corrects immediately.
"You—" You suck in a harsh breath. "Okay. Alright."
It's no secret you're short circuiting, brain blowing fuses left and right still trying to comprehend everything that's going on. But it's proving difficult with his hand caressing your jaw, the intrusion of his cologne, how fucking good he looks like this, soft and unguarded and letting nothing distract him from you, you, you.
"Are you okay?" He asks, half concerned half amused.
You nearly laugh out of disbelief. "Am I—" You scoff. "Am I okay," you mimic mockingly, adding a self deprecating laugh. "Seventeen year old me is freaking out right now."
Rafe immediately frowns, and you instantly regret saying that.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"What?"
You blink stupidly, adding a nervous chuckle to attempt to steer the conversation. "Uh, what?"
His brows furrow. "What do you mean?"
"What do you mean?"
Rafe says your name firmly, low and baritone as if in warning.
A flicker of panic makes your heart thump wildly, taking in his confused expression mixed with his bubbling impatience. His palm presses a tad harder into your jaw, a gentle emphasis to keep talking, to answer his question, because if there's one thing Rafe Cameron hates, it's being left in the dust, being unanswered.
But you can't respond, not when you're cursing yourself in your head, calling yourself stupid, stupid, stupid in every single language with all synonyms you can think of. Really? Are you kidding? That's what you say? That was something you agreed to yourself that you'd never tell him, never tell anyone and have them see the light of day, and with the way he's staring at you right now, you wish you could shrink in place and bury yourself in a hole. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"Seventeen?" He adds incredulously, tone dripping in desperation. "Did you—? Since we were—?"
"Yes," you answer meekly, and your cheek feels hot under his touch, instantly heating up at the notion of exposing yourself.
Rafe looks absolutely wrecked as he shakes his head at you. "Why didn't you— You never said anything. Why didn't you say anything?"
For a multitude of reasons, you think immediately. He had a girlfriend, you were seeing someone, you both left for different colleges, and a plethora more. It never felt right, there was never a point in time where you thought, wow, I'm actually going to tell him. Because it was a secret you tried to bury so deep, push and push away with the fear of fucking everything up. You never banked on the possibility of him telling you first.
You attempt to respond. "I couldn't lose you."
Rafe curses as if he's been stabbed in the heart. "Baby..."
Squeezing your eyes shut, you refuse to see his look of compassion, because honestly you won't be able to discern it from pity. Besides, the foreign pet name does absolute wonders to the kettlebell in your gut, as in making your heart feel ten tons heavier than it feels in this given moment. You've heard him call other girls the good stuff, the babe, sweetheart, honey once, but knowing you're on the reciprocating end makes your chest feel funny.
"Don't—" You start, but take a deep breath to regulate your emotions. "It's fine. It is. Honest."
"It's not." His response is immediate. "Look at me."
With a shroud of bravery, you slowly blink your eyes open.
And Rafe's looking at you so intently, so ardently, that it nearly makes your knees buckle.
"Listen to me," he says quietly yet firmer than ever. "There's no one on this planet that I'd rather be loved by than you."
You frown, but more-so in a way to regulate your quivering lip.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to catch up," Rafe murmurs, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip that tingles with anticipation. "I know it's not much, but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere." He pauses, brows furrowing for a split second. "That is, if you want."
Despite your trembling lip, despite your erratic heartbeat, despite the way you're nearly a puddle of a mess in his hold right now, despite it all, you manage a soft, ragged chuckle.
"Rafe Cameron," you playfully scold despite the waver in your voice. "You always have the worst timing."
His palm presses further into the curve of your jaw, reciprocating your laugh and smiling so fucking soft that it makes your heart melt. The dimples you know and love are on full display, pearly whites shining bright and you can't help but wonder what he tastes like.
"Sorry, baby," he murmurs in response, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "Let me make it up to you, yeah?"
You're not sure who leans in first. Maybe it's you, pent up from years silently pining over a guy you never thought you could have. Maybe it's him, feeling a new rush of emotions and eager to act on them as soon as he possibly can. But, regardless, you meet in the middle and kiss him like your life depends on it.
Rafe's hands are suddenly everywhere: your jaw, your neck, your back to pull your body taut to his, your waist, looooooow on your hips with the pads of his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your ass. The noise he makes when he kisses you back, fervently than ever, makes your heart flutter, and you can easily confirm he tastes better than you imagined, his hands feel sensational venturing into uncharted territory.
Your hands hesitantly place firmly on his chest, slowly sliding up his torso the more you test out the waters. They soon seek refuge on his shoulders, skimming your palms over the hills and ridges of his muscles almost in admiration, before sliding up to clasp around the back of his neck.
When you gently tug the ends of his overgrown hair, Rafe groans into your mouth.
"Fuck," he says absolutely wrecked, chest practically heaving as he rests his forehead against yours. "I can't— I wanna do this right, but you're—"
"I'm what?" You challenge breathlessly, realizing you sound equally as fucked out.
He groans. "You're killing me. I need to— Fuck— I can't just— and you—“
When your hands slide down the slope of his torso slowly, his breath hitches, and his eyes follow the way your fingertips ghost the waistband of his sweatpants. You glide them over the fabric as if you're admiring the topography of a map, and when your nails lightly graze the sliver of skin exposed between the waistband and his t-shirt, Rafe nearly flinches.
"You can't—" He tries to hold his ground as his grip tightens on your hips.
But he lets out a shaky breath when you dip your fingers under the waistband.
"I can't, what?" You ask innocently. "Wanna make you feel good."
Suddenly, his nimble fingers encase around your wrist and yank your hand out of his pants, much to your dismay, and hold them in place when you try to dive back in.
But you can't be mad. Not in the slightest. Especially at his next words.
"You first," Rafe nearly orders, tone firm as his palms lay refuge on your hips and push you to move backwards, down the hall towards your bedroom. "I don't feel good unless you do."
And as he guides you into the bedroom, lies you down gently on your back and kisses up and down your body as if he's admiring a timeless piece of art, you can't configure any sort of argument, any kind of retaliation that would get him to stop what he's doing. There isn't a muscle, inch of skin, crevice on your body that goes unnoticed, as his hands and lips make you feel appreciated, worshipped, loved before he even considers thinking about himself. It's intoxicating, and the years spent wondering what kind of lover he really is is disproved yet confirmed all the same in the matter of minutes. Safe to say Project FOOL was a bust.
Rafe shows you how he's infatuated with you, for hours at best, making the softest love he knows how within the four walls of your bedroom, entangled within cotton sheets with whispers of sweet nothings ghosting the shell of your ear.
You’re in the corridor outside the conference rooms, phone to your ear, scanning an email on your tablet, when you hear his laugh.
That low, careless, sun-warmed sound that somehow crawls under your skin every time.
You stop in your tracks.
Rafe’s leaning against the reception desk again, the picture of relaxed confidence. His arms are crossed, biceps flexed under the sleeves of his T-shirt. And perched on the edge of the counter beside him is Chloe, the new bubbly blonde intern.
She’s giggling. Like, actually giggling. Twirling a strand of hair around one finger.
“…and then I said, ‘Well, I might not know how to change my oil, but I’m real good with my hands,’” Rafe’s saying, eyes sparkling.
Chloe dissolves into fresh giggles, practically shoving his arm. “Oh my God, stop. You’re terrible.”
You freeze, invisible ice sliding down your spine.
Rafe, your Rafe, with the rag stuffed in his back pocket and the grin he only usually gives you, leans closer, dropping his voice conspiratorially. “Anyway, point is…you ever need help checkin’ your fluids, you know where to find me.”
Chloe squeals. Squeals.
You don’t even realize you’ve hung up your phone call mid-sentence. You just turn on your heel and march back toward your office, ever the avoidant.
He comes knocking an hour later.
Your door’s half-closed, but he doesn’t bother knocking, of course. Just pokes his head in.
“Hey, corporate—”
You don’t look up from your screen. “I’m busy.”
There’s a beat. You can practically feel him staring at you.
“…O-kay,” he says slowly. “I just—”
“Busy.”
Another pause. Then you hear the door close again.
The next day, you find a sticky note on your monitor:
“Lunch? Or you still mad?” — Mr. Corporate
You crumple it and toss it into your trash can.
By Thursday, he’s had enough. He corners you at the elevator bank, stepping in front of the doors just as they’re opening.
“Okay, what the hell,” he says.
“Move, Rafe.”
“Not ‘til you tell me why you’re actin’ like I keyed your car.”
You lift your chin. “I’m not acting like anything.”
He folds his arms, towering over you. “Bullshit.”
You refuse to look at him. The elevator doors slide shut again behind him.
He lowers his voice. “Is this about Chloe?”
“Why would it be?” you snap. “You can flirt with whoever you want.”
His brows shoot up. “So that’s what this is.”
You glare at him. “I don’t care what you do. It’s none of my business.”
“Oh, see, that’s funny.” He steps closer, voice dropping. “’Cause you sure look like you care.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He studies you for a long moment. The playful glint is gone. When he speaks again, it’s softer, but still intense enough to pin you in place.
“I was messin’ around. I don’t give a shit about Chloe.”
“Seemed like you were having fun.”
“She’s nineteen, corporate. I was tryin’ not to be an asshole. That’s it.”
You fold your arms tighter. “I’m sure she’d love to hear that.”
Rafe sighs. “Jesus. You really don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?” you snap.
He hesitates. Just a second. Like he’s deciding something. Then his jaw firms.
“That I don’t come all the way across town in the middle of my workday to see anybody else.”
Your heart stutters. You try not to let it show.
“That I don’t bring sandwiches to girls I don’t give a shit about.” He tilts his head, eyes blazing. “That I’m not interested in anyone else but you.”
Your mouth opens. Closes.
He exhales. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”
You swallow hard. “Then why…why flirt with her?”
“’Cause I was tryin’ to prove I can hang in your world. And I screwed it up. Happy?”
You blink. “Why would you have to prove anything?”
“Because you’re…” He gestures vaguely at your suit, your heels, your entire immaculate presence. “This. And I’m…not.”
You hesitate. A long beat of silence stretches between you. Then you say, softer than intended: “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
He searches your eyes. “Then why’d you freeze me out?”
You glance away. “I didn’t like it.”
Rafe grins, slow and a little wicked. “Didn’t like me flirtin’ with someone else, huh?”
You scowl. “Shut up.”
He takes another step closer, invading your personal space completely. “So what you’re tellin’ me…is you’re jealous.”
“I am not—”
But he cuts you off, mouth brushing your ear. “God, you’re cute when you’re mad.”
Your entire body locks up.
“Tell you what,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you tonight?”
You shove his chest lightly. “Rafe—”
But he’s already smirking. “I’ll pick you up at eight, corporate.”
And then he’s gone, sauntering away like he hasn’t just shattered your defenses completely, leaving you breathless in your power suit and wishing you’d pulled him back instead of pushing him away.
...
You’re back at the garage on a Friday afternoon, wearing a silk blouse and dark jeans instead of your usual suit, casual for you, though you still look wildly out of place among the oil stains and rattling pneumatic tools.
Rafe’s truck is nowhere in sight.
Which is unfortunate, because your car is definitely making a noise this time.
A real one.
Like a metallic screech that sends a jolt straight through your bones every time you brake. So you pull in, pop the hood, and hover beside your car, arms folded, trying not to look helpless.
That’s when you hear a voice behind you:
“Whoa. Fancy car for a fancy lady.”
You turn.
He’s tall, maybe a couple years younger than Rafe. Dark hair, mechanic’s shirt half unbuttoned, grease on his fingers. He’s wiping his hands on a clean rag, grin firmly in place.
“Hi,” you say cautiously. “Is Rafe around?”
“Nah, he ran to the parts store. I’m Eli. New around here.” He flashes a brilliant smile. “But lucky for you, I know my way around a BMW.”
“Oh…that’s okay. I’ll just wait for—”
But he’s already stepping closer, peering into your engine bay. “Pop the hood the rest of the way for me, sweetheart?”
You bristle faintly at sweetheart, but comply. “I just came in for a noise—”
“Brake noise, right? I heard it when you pulled in.” Eli shoots you a wink. “Bet you didn’t know a pretty car like this could scream so loud.”
You open your mouth, then shut it again.
He leans closer into the hood, arms flexing under the fluorescent lights. “You from around here?”
“Uh…kinda.” You shift awkwardly. “I work downtown.”
He grins. “I knew you were a corporate girl. You’ve got that boss energy.”
Your cheeks warm despite yourself. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Oh, it means you probably scare the hell outta half the guys you meet. But that’s okay.” He glances over his shoulder, eyes gleaming. “Some of us like a woman who knows what she wants.”
You stare at him, thoroughly off-balance.
And that’s precisely when Rafe comes back.
You hear his boots before you see him. The slam of his truck door. The crunch of gravel.
Then his voice, sharp as a blade: “What the fuck’s this?”
You blink up, startled. “Rafe—”
He’s striding across the lot, eyes zeroed in on Eli like a predator who’s spotted something on his territory.
Eli straightens, rag still dangling from one hand. “Hey, man. Just helpin’ her out—”
“Didn’t ask what you were doin’,” Rafe snaps. He plants himself between you and Eli so abruptly you nearly stumble backward. “Back the fuck off her car.”
Eli raises his hands. “Jesus. Chill.”
“Don’t tell me to chill.” Rafe’s jaw is clenched so hard you can practically hear his teeth grinding. “You don’t touch her car. You don’t talk to her like that.”
“Rafe, it’s fine,” you try to cut in, but he ignores you completely.
“You think ‘sweetheart’ is how we talk to customers around here?” Rafe demands, voice low and dangerous.
Eli blinks. “I…I was just being friendly—”
“Yeah? Go be friendly somewhere else.”
Eli glances between you two, looking faintly rattled. Then he mutters, “Whatever, man,” and walks off, tossing the rag onto the nearest tool cart.
The moment he’s gone, Rafe rounds on you, eyes blazing.
“What the hell, corporate?”
Your mouth drops open. “Me? I didn’t do anything!”
“You let him touch your car!”
“I didn’t let—he just started helping!”
Rafe rakes a hand through his hair, leaving a streak of grease at his hairline. “You should’ve waited for me.”
“I was waiting for you!”
He’s breathing hard. His chest is rising and falling like he’s been running.
Then he grabs your wrist, not hard, but firmly, and yanks you away from the car a few steps, out of earshot of the others.
“Do you even realize…?” His voice is hoarse now, lower, ragged. “The way you stand there, all wide-eyed…lettin’ guys lean all over your car, talkin’ to you like you’re somethin’ to win…like you’re—”
“Like I’m what?” you demand, getting ticked off at his tone.
He glares at you, but there’s a wild, almost panicked glint behind it. “Like you’re available.”
You blink, stunned.
“Rafe…” your voice softens. “I didn’t even notice he was flirting.”
He lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, well. Every guy within ten feet notices you.”
You scoff, a slow smirk spreading on your lips. “What, are you…jealous?”
He stiffens. “No.”
“Rafe—”
He grips your chin gently, tilting your face up. “You’re mine.”
Your breath catches, and you shouldn't find it attractive but you do.
He blinks, seeming to realize what he’s said. His thumb drifts across your jaw. “Shit. I didn’t—”
But before you can answer, he’s ducking his head and kissing you. It’s not soft, not gentle. It’s rough and urgent and tastes faintly of salt and grease and something purely Rafe.
When he finally pulls back, your pulse is thrumming in your ears.
You whisper, “I was just getting my brakes checked.”
Rafe grins, still breathless. “Not by him, you weren’t.”
And then he tugs you back toward your car, muttering under his breath, “C’mon. Lemme fix it proper.”
A/N: i may be spamming this duo but i just love them
TAGLIST (OG taglist + anyone who asked to be tagged): @lunaleah, @luzstarkey, @rafeycameronsgf, @pluviophilis @aerie717, @voqueflms, @bonjourjiminie
could you do Rafe x kook!reader where they’re friends with benefits and maybe inspired by Maddie from euphoria when she says “idk if ur head is all scrambled from all the molly u take but I never said that.” maybe reader is in argument with Rafe because he was telling a guy reader was seeing that her and Rafe were exclusive reader is mad abt it?? Idk just a thought, I love ur writing sm 🫶
We good? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
A/n: I love this idea thank you!!!
Warnings: angst!!!! Toxic!rafe, fwb
Word count: 1,654
MASTERLIST
The glow of the bonfire cast golden streaks across the sand, crackling and spitting up into the dark Carolina sky. The usual people were scattered around the beach—red Solo cups in hand, some half-drunk, others halfway to blackout. Music thumped from the Bluetooth speaker Topper had half-buried in the sand.
It was your scene. Your crowd. But you hadn’t cracked a smile all night. You were sitting on the arm of a wicker lounge chair with your legs crossed, nursing the same drink for the past hour. Your eyes kept flicking toward Rafe. He was surrounded by his friends near the firepit, grinning like he hadn’t just fucked up your night.
Because he had. You knew it the second Jonah stopped texting you. Jonah Blackwood—Chapel Hill college boy home for the summer. He was sweet, preppy, clean-cut in a way that promised safety instead of chaos. You’d gone on a few dates. He liked you. Liked-liked you.
There was potential, and you needed that—needed someone who didn’t live in the constant chaos that followed Rafe like a shadow. But out of nowhere, he just stopped texting. You’d seen him yesterday at The Wreck, and he couldn’t even look you in the eye.
Then today, you got the message: “Didn’t know you were with Rafe Cameron. Should’ve told me.” You had blinked at your phone like it had personally slapped you. You’d never said that. Never claimed Rafe, never pretended this arrangement between you two was anything more than backseat sex and bad decisions.
And he knew that. He knew. So why the hell was he chasing off anyone who got close to you like you were his to protect—or keep? That question had been simmering under your skin all night, hot and sharp. And now? Watching him laugh with his boys like he hadn’t just blown up the first decent thing you’d had in a while? You could feel the anger rising in your throat, ready to spill over.
You stood. Tossed your cup into the sand. And walked straight toward him. A few heads turned. You didn’t care. Rafe was mid-laugh when he noticed you coming—his grin faltered for half a second, like some distant warning bell had gone off in his head. He stood up straighter, cocked his head, his usual lazy smirk settling into place.
“Hey, look who’s finally decided to—” “What the fuck did you say to Jonah?” you cut in, voice ice-cold. His smile dropped entirely. The group around him—Topper, Kelce, Jason, that junior Tyler—went quiet. Tense. A couple of them traded looks, the kind you give when you know shit’s about to go sideways. “Jonah who?” Rafe asked, all faux-innocence and drug-fueled arrogance.
You stepped closer, toe to toe with him now. “Jonah Blackwood. The guy I was seeing.” Rafe raised his eyebrows like you’d just told him you were dating a garbage man. “That the UNC kid? Button-downs and baby-blue loafers?” You didn’t blink. “Yeah. Him. He stopped talking to me. Know what he said?”
Rafe didn’t answer. You said it for him. “Didn’t know you were with Rafe Cameron.” The fire crackled behind you. Sand shifted under your feet. Rafe didn’t move. “I didn’t tell him that,” you continued, voice rising slightly. “I never said we were together. So I’m gonna ask again—what did you say to him?” His jaw tightened. You saw it. Quick, subtle.
His mask slipped for half a second. “I just told him he should know who he’s dealing with,” Rafe said smoothly, voice low and infuriatingly calm. “Didn’t think you’d want some guy disrespecting you.” “Disrespecting me?” you snapped, your eyes narrowing. “Or just not treating me like you do?” A sharp pause. Topper gave a low whistle under his breath.
Kelce took a step back. Jason muttered something and grabbed a beer from the cooler, clearly not wanting to be part of what was about to go down. One by one, the guys peeled off. Now it was just you and Rafe. “You think just because I let you touch me, you get to make decisions for me?” you asked, teeth clenched. “I wasn’t making a decision for you,” Rafe bit out. “I was looking out for you.” “Bullshit.” His jaw ticked. “He was a fucking joke—”
“No, you’re the joke,” you snapped, stepping in closer. “And I don’t know if your brain is all scrambled from all the coke you take—” His expression cracked. “Watch it.” “—but I never said that,” you went on, voice hard and venomous. “I never said I was yours. So whatever little fantasy you’ve got playing in that fucked-up head of yours? Cut it. Because if you ever spread some shit like that again, I will fucking come for you, Rafe. Don’t test me.”
You could see it—the pulse in his neck, ticking like a warning. His chest rose and fell a little too fast, breath starting to shallow. But you didn’t stop. “You ruined something for me,” you said, voice steady but low, thick with heat. “Something normal. Something that didn’t involve back rooms, secrets, or pretending I don’t exist in the daylight.” You took a step closer, your eyes locked on his.
“And if you ever pull that shit again, Rafe? I swear to God, I’ll make sure you’re the one getting ghosted.” Silence. The kind that buzzed in your ears. That made the air feel thick. You let out a breath, sharp and shaky, your hands still curled into fists at your sides. Adrenaline still clinging to your skin. Rafe just stared at you—like you’d ripped him open and left him bleeding on the sand. No smug comebacks. No smartass grin.
Just that look. Like whatever was left inside him had just been scraped raw. He didn’t answer. Not right away. The only sounds were the fire cracking behind you and the music thumping from somewhere down the beach—distant, muffled, completely irrelevant now. Then, after a beat, his voice—low and tight: “You done?”
You let out a sharp scoff, half a laugh, half something darker. “Yeah. I’m done.” You turned and started walking. But behind you, you heard it—the sudden crash of glass, a chair scraping violently across the sand, someone cursing under their breath as Rafe kicked something hard enough to send it flying.
popstar!reader goes on call her daddypopstar!reader x bodyguard!rafe
you sit down on the large brown chair directly across from alex. one leg is crossed over the other as you slightly lean back in your seat, feeling comfort wash over you.
podcasts were weirdly less daunting for you compared to interviews. you chopped it up to the fact that often interviews and late-night shows were pretty short, you always felt like you were never able to really show your actual personality, and you always worried that things you said would get taken out of context.
you knew that sitting down with alex cooper - notorious for her somewhat scandalous and sex-focussed interviews - would probably result to your name circulating the media in some way, but it wasn't exactly anything you weren't used to.
your bodyguard (and secret affair?) rafe was stood off to the side, talking with your manager, margaret, and assistant, emma. his arms were crossed over his chest as he looked down at them, nodding intently at whatever they were saying.
he felt your gaze and he turned his head, throwing you a charming smile and quick wink, before turning his head back to the conversation. you felt your heart speed up and your stomach flutter, but push it down, turning away.
alex, sat directly across from you, wore her signature unwell hoodie and sweatpants, while you wore dark wash, straight legged jeans, and a white, flowy, lacy top.
after giving your introduction to the camera, alex turns to you. "welcome to call her daddy!"
you smile brightly, clapping you hands together. "thank you! im so excited to be here," you exclaim.
"im so excited to finally have you here, oh my god," alex states, and you nod in agreement. "yeah, this is for sure a long time coming," you respond, adjusting in your seat to get a bit more comfortable.
"so, you got back from your world tour a bit over a month ago i believe, how are you feeling?" she asks, her tone seeming genuinely interested.
"im feeling really good. i've honestly just spent the last month sleeping in to like, 11, and catching up with a bunch of friends i haven't seen for a while, so i cant really complain," you giggle.
alex hums. "thats seems really nice. tell me, are you the type to go crazy on tour? like, i feel like usually the response is pretty mixed. sometimes you get people who go out every night in the cities they stop in, and sometimes you get people who literally only leave the hotel room for the show."
"oh yeah, you hear all about that," you giggle lightly. "i honestly feel like i'm a mix. i travelled a lot when i was younger so i mean i'm not terrible with dealing with jet lag, but also just traveling within itself is kind of exhausting," you state, whilst alex nods in agreement.
"but, you know, my goal is to always try and go out in every city we go to, whether thats out to a bar or a club or just like, a nice dinner," you answer. "with drinks, of course," you add in as an after thought, throwing a quick wink.
alex laughs. "no, i get you. for me im like, if im in fucking amsterdam or paris or some shit, what do you mean im not going out? like of course i am!" she exclaims through laughter.
your eyes widen in agreement. "right! like who knows when you'll be there again? might as well push through."
"exactly," alex agrees, slapping her hand down on the arms of her chair. "now, everyone knows you enjoy a good cheeky song with a little...allusion or reference to sex, which we are all about on the call her daddy podcast," alex claims, earning a sheepish laugh to fall from your lips as you breifly cover your face with your hands. "oh yeah, of course," you reply through laughter, taking your hands away from your face.
you dont turn your head, but you feel the eyes of a certain someone on the side of your head, and you dont have to look to know exactly who it is.
you all the sudden felt hyper aware of his presence in the room, and willed yourself to push it out of mind and focus your attention solely on alex and the questions.
"so i thought it would be a good idea for us to play a little game, where maybe we can get into that a bit" she announces, picking back up her topic cards.
you hum in response, sitting up straighter. "ok, sounds harmless," you say, pushing your hair off your shoulder a bit.
"ok, perfect. now tell me, have you ever played truth or drink?" alex asks, causing you to groan through laughter, a hand coming to your forehead. "oh god, yes. i take it back, not harmless."
alex laughs. "dont worry, we wont get you too drunk. ill be nice," she promises. you let out a "phew" and you cross one leg over the other, watching as someone on alexs staff walks into frame, with a bottle of titos and 2 shot glasses.
alex looks to you. "you like vodka, yes?"
you nod intently. "oh yes, love vodka."
alex laughs. "great, maybe you'll be having some today," she jokes, whilst you suck in some breath for comedic effect. "sorry in advanced."
"ok lets get into it. we'll start easy. what was your favorite tour outfit?" alex asks, looking up from the cards at you.
your eyes find the cieling in thought. "um, probably the night one london outfit? i really liked that blue bodysuit," you answer.
alex gasps. "ok yes, good choice. so hot," she says, and you giggle a bit, letting out a thank you. "are those uncomfortable at all? they look like they take an army to put on."
"they might as well take an army," you giggle. "but, i mean, definitely not as comfortable as sweats, but you get used to it."
alex nod. "ok, makes sense," alex shifts in her seat, getting comfortable. "alright, next question: what is your favorite song to preform?"
you hum in thought. you think back to tour, and one specific memory comes to mind.
he tosses you a plastic water bottle. "good show," he compliments casually, causing you to beam.
"thanks. yeah it felt pretty good out there, energy was high, huh?" you reply, taking a long sip of the water.
he nodded, sitting on the coffee table in front of you. "mhm," he hummed, leaning his elbows on his thighs, "i specifically like that song you played in the middle of the set...blankin' on the name."
you hold back a blush, knowing he was talking about xo (aka, the song about him). you act nonchalant, crossing a leg over the other. "xo?" you ask.
his lips tilt up. "thats the one."
you hum, nodding a bit before looking away to avoid eye contact, getting a bit bashful. then you remember you conversation with emma before, and a sudden burst of confidence ran through you. you turn back to face him, playing with the hem of your short dress. "what about that one do you like?" you ask a bit boldly.
rafe blinked. "the dance is fun." he replies after a beat.
you hold back a blush at just the thought of that whole encounter with rafe after your miami show.
"probably xo. that ones always fun," you answer, feeling hyperaware of rafes intense gaze on you.
"ugh, i love that song. its just so fun and flirty, it literally feels like having a crush," alex gushes.
you laugh lightly. "im glad, that kind of how i wanted it to feel," you respond. "preforming that one is super fun, because the whole thing is like kind of a joke and poking fun at it, because i mean the lyrics are just, kind of comical and teenage-like, but i still get to look hot and all that, so its all works out."
"totally. now, for this next question, going off the book here, can i ask who inspired that song?" she asks with a big smile, eyebrows raised in anticipation.
you bite your lip, a bashful smile on your lips, turning your head to make brief eye contact with rafe before playing it off by looking at the camera.
rafes gaze is just as intense as you thought it would be, but yet his lips were quirked up in a small smirk.
you sigh, the smile remaining on your face. "guess im pouring myself a shot," you say, leaning over, doing exactly as you say.
"im not letting you take it alone," alex exclaimes as she pours one for herself, eliciting a laugh out of you.
you both throw back the shots, a brief look of disgust on your face as you swallow it down, before slamming it back on the table.
"alex coopers getting me drunk," you giggle into the mic, earning a laugh from alex.
"well at least were getting drunk together," she states.
she continues grilling you, causing a couple more shots to be tossed down, as well as some minor secrets to spill.
"ok, last one because i want to move on to other stuff. but, im sure your aware of different rumours that circulate about you," alex starts, causing your eyes to widen as you nod intently in agreement, "but i think we need to get to the bottom of this one particular one."
you smile nervously. "oh god, ok," you say, giggling a bit, feeling anxiety weighing down on your chest.
"so, theres some conspiracy on the internet that you and your bodyguard have some sort of relationship going on. can you confirm or deny?"
there it was. you probably should've known it was coming, and maybe you did deep down, given you had seen the edits, and the slideshows of the two of you together on tiktok.
you hide your head in your hands, laughing. "oh my god," you laugh, sitting up straighter and turning your head over to rafe, margaret, and emma, all of which had very different expressions.
margaret seemed a bit surprised, yet amused, given she had no clue about you and rafe, and if she did, trust that it would be a big problem. emma eyes were wide, she seemed a bit startled, a bit nervous for your answer. she was who you usually went to about rafe, her being one of the only friends you have in LA that you truly trust not to tell anyone else.
rafe eyes widdened a bit, and he wore a surprised expression. his expression was a bit serious, as if he was interested in how you would respond.
your turn back to alex and she throws you an amused look. "no escaping it!"
you smile back at her, laughing along. "that true," you respond, putting your media training to use. "no, no its not like that" you take a deep breath, laughing gently to cover up your desire to just tell the truth. "i've been seeing that for a while now, but um, yeah no nothing other than professional. obviously a great looking guy but we would both never go there. hes great at his job, and a great friend, but no. no relationship or secret affair or anything like that," you laugh as if your amused by the rumors, as if you find the idea of you and rafe itself funny.
alex nods. "ok, there you go," she turns to the camera, '"you heard it here guys, there is no secret affair with the bodyguard," she jokes, and you laugh along, though it feels fake.
you cant find it in yourself to look at rafe again that whole interview, feeling his intense glare on the side of your head the whole time. you knew obviously you couldn't just confirm you and rafe right there on the podcast, especially because you didnt know what you and rafe even were, and rafe knew that too. but still, you couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.
after the interview wrapped up, you gave alex a big hug, the two of you making plans to go out sometime soon. emma walked over to you, her eyes widening a bit, silently acknowledging what happened earlier with the rafe question, and you nodded.
god, you felt ridiculous. you all the sudden felt angry with yourself. what the hell am i doing? i should've been able to meant what i said, me and rafe shouldn't me doing this.
but you couldn't help it. rafe just had that pull on you. you really, really, liked him. like, an embarrassing amount.
you walk out of alexs house in the middle of margaret and emma, the former raving about how well that went, whilst the latter nodded along in agreement. you stayed quiet, your eyes focussed on rafe in front of you, silent as he lead you all to the car.
the ride home held that silence. at least, between you and rafe. the two women in the back continued to discuss the interview, asking for an opinion from you every now and then, to which you would turn over your shoulder and throw a small smile, coming up with some bullshit response.
for the most part your eyes remained out the window, feeling yourself instinctively looking at rafe from the corner of your eye.
you were confused. i mean, did he really expect you to admit the two of you were a thing? and thing is a loose term, given you had absolutely no idea what you even were. he would've lost his job, whatever the two of you had would be over. was he actually mad?
after dropping both emma and margaret off at their respective homes, it left just you and rafe it the car.
"rafe-" you start softly, attempting to break the silence.
"not," he interupts, pausing, "not right now."
the clench in rafe jaw told you he was pissed, so despite yourself, you bit your tongue, knowing it was best to let him cool off as much as possible. when you finally walked inside your house, you sigh softly as you watch rafe instantly walk into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water, leaning his back against the counter.
you bite you lip as you follow him, standing in the entrance of the kitchen, observing him. "r'you gonna tell me what has you all annoyed?" you ask, your tone slightly frusturated.
his stare is hard but he clenches his jaw, visibly trying to keep his composure. "nothing, everything's fine"
you let out a huff of breath. "rafe, c'mon. you know i had no choice."
rafe shakes his head, letting out a scoff. "no, no, you had a choice, you always have a choice." he spoke quietly, yet dangerously
you scoff as well, crossing you arms, feeling yourself getting defensive. "really? tell me, tell me all of these infinite choices i had," you ask sarcastically. you felt a little bad for getting all sassy with him, but you felt the need to defend you actions.
he purses his lips. "you could've taken the shot," he says.
you huff out a bitter laugh. "its the same thing."
he shook his head. "no, its not. and you know that."
his words left you quiet. you knew he was right. knew you could've just taken the fucking shot, you didnt have to answer the questing, but you panicked. panicked at the thought of loosing this with rafe, whatever it was, however dysfunctional and flawed it was. at least it was something.
"yeah," you say quietly. "yeah, i know."
you also knew that this was deeper than him being a little frustrated by how you answered the question. he wasn't really mad about that, you knew that. he, just like you, were fed up with the hiding, the secrets.
it's silent for a moment between the two of, before you let a rare flicker of vulnerability come to surface.
even though you felt the most yourself around rafe, you still fought to keep you walls up. the chances of shit hitting the fan were high, you weren't stupid.
it was like two sides of you were fighting - one side fought with all its might to attatch itself to him, to let you succumb to him, whilst the other fought for distance, fought to build back the walls that kept tumbling down.
you wondered if he felt that same internal battle, every moment you were with him.
"i dont want to loose you," you murmur out in the moment of weakness, eyes flickering up from the floor to his, the two of you sharing a look of understanding.
he nodded. "i know, kid," he murmurred back, a softness in his eyes you dont think you would ever get used to seeing.
you take a few small strides towards him, eyes remaining on his until you stood directly in front of him. you look down, your hands slowly sliding into his. you felt him looking, felt his hand tightening a bit in yours, squeezing three times to get your attention.
you lift you eyes back to his, feeling a strange knot in your throat. sometimes, you really really hated how much you liked him.
rafe eyes searched yours, and a small smile founds it way to his lips. "we're good, just..." he sighs softly, his eyes closing for a moment as his forehead fall forward, meeting yours.
"just hate this," he whispers.
you knew what he meant. the secrets, the pretending, the holding back, the fighting, the tears, the lying - you hated it too.
but your need for him far outweighed that hate.
you nodded in agreement, yours eyes fluttering shut as well.
"yeah. but y'know what i dont hate?"
"hm?" rafe hums questionably.
a mischievous smile found your lips, your eyes opening again. "sushi.
rafe chest rumbles with quiet laugher, eyes opening as he shakes his head in amusement. "ill order," he states, squeezing your hands again before dropping them, walking towards the home phone.
you bit your lip, holding back the wider smile threatening to break out, and let out a content sigh.
things with rafe may not be have been perfect, and possibly never will be, but for now, you were ok with staying in the shadows with him.
