lil bun🐇

welcome to bunny's world <3

[littlebunnygold]

new masterlist Ი𐑼

thank you for supporting my work!! xoxo bunny

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𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 Rafe Cameron 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Strike! Happier Than Ever → Rafe's POV WOO Hypnotized Friends Clumsy → Times Like These → Iced Vanilla Chai → Yacht Rock Party 4 U Da Ya Think I'm Sexy? Peak More Fun to Miss Pink

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 JJ Maybank 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Cherry Hell N Back(I) → PT(II) Taken Back Banana Pancakes Treehouse Meet Me At Our Spot(I) → PT(II) Washed Up

[littlebunnygold]

Pink (Rafe Cameron x reader)

summary: pink hair gives you more attention than you're used to.

warnings: swearing, harassment, lowkey ditzy reader

word count: 1k

a/n: based on real events pink hair baddies can back me up but blurbbbbbb xoxo bunny

my masterlist

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You didn’t think hair could change everything. It’s just a color. Just pink. 

But suddenly, men looked at you like you had walked in naked, like you already said yes without opening your mouth. You’d never received this type of attention from the men around here before, not like this, not from everyone you passed by. Eyes that lingered too long, touches on your shoulder that weren't there before, comments you’d never heard. 

The bell above the corner store door jingled and the clerk's eyes dropped immediately, slow and unapologetic, taking in the curve of your body like he’d paid for the privilege.

You uncomfortably smiled, “Bag tags, please” you said quickly, trying to avoid conversation. 

No success. 

“Damn,” the clerk muttered, not even trying to be quiet, “Pink means trouble, huh?”  he laughed.

In that moment you felt hot, crawling regret. Like you’d dressed wrong, like you’d made yourself cheap by accident. 

Another man stood by and laughed, “Bet you like it rough, huh sweetheart?” he drawed out, winking at you. 

Your stomach turned and you just stared at the counter, wishing you had worn a hat, wishing you never touched the dye, wishing you could crawl into your own skin and disappear. And they just watched you, bold and hungry, waiting to see how much you’d let them get away with.

Just as you were about to ask for the tags again, the other man approached you, reaching for a strand of your hair and you grimaced. You thought you heard the door open again but were too distracted by the unwanted attention and the muttering something about how wide your mouth could open, the clerk at the counter telling you how “hot” your hair gets him.

Just as you were about to start gagging, a purposeful and dominant clearing of the throat grabbed everyone's attention. The man immediately stepped away from you, and you stepped closer to the counter. 

Rafe Cameron didn’t say anything at first, he just looked at you, slow and deliberate, eyes dragging from the man's hand quickly dropping your exciting hair, to your pouting lips clearly uncomfortable with the situation. It’s like he was cataloguing the damage done. When he spoke, it wasn’t loud, but not polite either. 

“She with you?” he asked the man, his tone flat and final, like he already knew how this was going to play out. 

The man scoffed, but Rafe stepped closer, walking past him to the fridge and grabbed a pack of six pack of beers, “Yeah, didn’t think so”  he eyed the man as he passed by him again.

The silence was loud, and you could cut the tension with a knife.

Rafe walked back up to the counter, close enough to you that you could smell his clean and expensive cologne, dropping his beer in front of the clerk and looking down at you.

You couldn’t read what he was thinking, but you were grateful he was here. 

“What do you need?” he asked you, voice still quiet but more gentle, digging through his wallet for some cash. 

“Oh- I was just-” you stuttered out, still stunned, “Garbage bag tags” 

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to.

He just gave the clerk a look that had him grabbing the tags immediately. He paid without asking, like it was obvious he would. He grabbed the items off the counter and made his way to the door, holding it open for you like it was normal. 

Outside, the air felt colder. Cleaner. You walked your bike beside him in the parking lot to his truck, heart still hammering, and embarrassment burning hot behind your ribs. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Um..” you said softly, “Thanks”

Rafe looked at you then, not your hair or your body, but your face. His mouth twitched like he was amused by something private. Like he knew he was winning.

“Yeah, they were fucked” he replied, his gaze slowly and intentionally dropping to your lips long enough to make heat crawl up your spine. 

You nodded and bit your bottom lip subconsciously, making Rafes jaw clench.

“But” he added, stepping closer, voice dipping, “a pretty girl doesn’t dye her hair like that unless she knows what it does”

Your pulse kicked and your breathing hitched. His eyes flicked back to meet yours, dark and steady, like he was daring you to call him out. Like he knew you wouldn’t. And you didn't.

“I mean, you do know what you look like, right?” he murmured. Not accusing, almost intrigued, “Walking around like that, looking so…”  he took in a sharp breath, cutting himself off before he exposed his true intentions. His eyes dragged over your figure and he smirked deviously at you, “Most guys on this island would do a lot worse, that’s all” he finished.

You couldn't decipher his tone. He sounded mildly concerned but in a... dark way.

You swallowed, “You didn’t seem to struggle?” you said but it came out as more of a question, like you weren’t sure your words are true. 

Rafe chuckled lightly and you blushed, making his cocky smirk grow, seemingly happy with how flustered he could make you.

“Because I can control myself, I know when to keep my mouth shut” he said, leaning closer to you so you could his feel breath on your face, the clouded look in his eyes made your heart beat harder in your chest and he flicked his gaze to your mouth one more time, like he was having a hard time not staring.

His voice was deep and calm. 

“I won't do anything those pretty lips don’t beg me to do”

His smirk returned to his face when your face went red and your eyes widened. He handed you the bag tags and opened his door, starting his truck while you sat on your bike, shocked.

“I’ll see you around, Pink” he grinned at the nickname, “You’re not exactly hard to spot” he winked and sped off, leaving you in the parking lot, flustered, stunned and confused.

You stood there for a moment thinking back to his body language, the way he was staring, the undertones of what he was saying to you. 

Maybe Rafe wasn’t your savior. He wasn’t better than them. He was just smarter. He knew how to behave to get what he wants.

And now, it seems to be you.

[littlebunnygold]

More Fun To Miss (au!Rafe x reader)

summary: Rafe gives you what you're asking for because he knows it's the only way to get what he wants.

warnings: drug use, swearing, drinking, cheating

word count: 3.4k

a/n: okay is it like too niche to crossover lol? idc I loves it I would pay good money to watch him in that role like OMG!! okay anyways hope you like its based off the show Daisy Jones and the Six, set in episode six but Rafe as Billy and reader as Daisy I hope you like it!! but if you haven't watched it lock in its on prime!! xoxo bunny

my masterlist

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At first you thought it was hate. Pure, 100% hate. You couldn’t stand to be around someone so prideful, so narcissistic and cocky and righteous. But in your life, love and hate tend to run together hand in hand. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are.

Rafe Cameron was your twin soul. You had never met someone who understood you and saw you on such a raw and naked level just by looking at you. And you're the same with him, you just saw things in him that he would never let anyone else see, and you didn't even have to try. That's when he knew you were different. You were broken. Just like him. 

When he said that to you though, that you were “broken"... you did not take it the way he meant it. You were not a broken person, and you didn't need fixing. 

But he could see through your cracks no matter how hard you tried to hide them. 

He knew in that first recording session that you were going to be a handful. Immediately calling him on hit shit when nobody else would, showing him up creativity and vocally, and it intimidated him just how comfortable you were being yourself. Until he saw how many pills you popped, lines you snorted, and bottles of liquor you filled yourself with every day. Rafe had been sober for a while now, and he made sure to remind you that he wasn't fond of your… habits. But that didn’t stop his feelings for you from blooming. 

It didn’t matter that he was married, or that he had a child, or that you were his bandmate, or that it would ruin everything.

He craved you. Everything he wrote was for you. He spent late nights on the phone listening to you humming a melody and writing a chorus to match your aura. Even the lyrics were getting more obvious about the secrets going on behind closed doors. 

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After weeks of writing songs together, most of the time just the two of you, you had managed to write nine amazing songs, with only a few more to go to complete a full album. You and Rafe had grown so close, your bandmates joked, “He speaks Y/n now” as you had a certain way of describing things, and now Rafe had a way of understanding.

He knew how you liked your coffee, he knew what your process for song writing was and having him around was making you a better artist. You could tell. 

Your manager Teddy had decided to call a reporter, Jonah,  from Rolling Stone Magazine to do a special on your upcoming album. You didn’t mind having him around, he seemed harmless and was nice enough to talk to. He was just always there. Always watching. Which didn’t sit right with Rafe.

When Jonah noticed how thick the tension was between you and Rafe, he was quick to make try and clear his name, “It’s not what you think, man” Rafe began, defense in his tone, “You know, you let the sparks fly in front of the camera but I have my life, so…” he trails off, tuning his guitar, trying to at least look like he wasn’t lying through his teeth. 

“So you’re saying it’s just an act?” the reporter clarified, gesturing his pencil in his han as if to remind Rafe he was on the record.

“Not exactly, no” Rafe said, looking over with a grin, “But it’s not real life either. That’s kind of the point”

Jonah started jotting some notes down and Rafe’s grin fell instantly, regretting what he said but knowing it had to be done. Whether it was the truth or not, he was married. And he wasn’t going to fuck his marriage up, again. 

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The next night, while trying to finish up another song, you and Rafe were in the studio just the two of you. You were struggling to find the melody, and wanted to go on a drive to try and find it again. Rafe offered to drive you around while you did. 

As he drove, you spoke and laughed and sat in a thick but comfortable silence. Like you both knew what was going on but knew you couldn't say anything. When he said he had never been to the beach, you knew that's where you'd end up. 

Walking the cool sand at night was a sensation you didn‘t know you'd love so much, but it was so calming and relaxing with the moonlight hitting the waves bright enough you could see Rafes features as he turned to you, inches away looking right into your eyes. 

“Whatever this- this is… it’s new for me” you admitted, uncertainty in your eyes.

“This is new for me too, Y/n” he replied, glancing around the beach before looking back down to you, taking a small step closer, “I have a confession for you” he continued, the corner of his lips tugging upward. 

“You… made Honeycomb better” he said with more sincerity than you've ever heard from him. 

Honeycomb was the first song you ever did together, granted it was more your writing than his, but hated you for that. Hated that you made his song better. Now it seems like he… is finally accepting it. And liking it. 

“I know” you smiled knowingly, looking at the water as Rafe stared at you.

He didn't take his eyes off you, drinking in your disheveled hair and clothes that didn’t match but did in their own way. In a you way. 

“You make everything better” he said, looking quickly to your lips before meeting your gaze, letting the words hang in the air between you. Your smile fell when he took another step closer to you, he inhaled through his nose and looked back towards the car, “We should go finish that song” he said.

“I’m not tired” you grinned up at him. He grinned back.

The ride back to Teddy’s house was quick. You had been crashing at his place for weeks, ever since he had asked you to be on this album, and you liked it. There was always booze, you had your own room, and the house itself was giant and beautiful. 

But all Rafe saw when he got to the front door was temptation. He would say it was the alcohol, the drugs, all of the time he spent cleaning up and getting sober that stopped him from coming inside that night. 

But he’ll always know what it really was. Who it really was. 

So when you saw the reporter sitting in the backyard on a poolchair, the alcohol running through you told you to go make small talk with him. Maybe he'll have some interesting questions and you can give him some interesting answers. Instead, he asks about Rafe. 

“I could have sworn you two were together… just from the songs” he says, looking over at you as you smoke a cigarette. You give him a cheeky smile and lower your voice, “How do you know we're not?” you tease back, taking a drag.

He chuckled lightly, taking a drag of his own, “Not according to Rafe”

That made your smile drop and you sit up in your chair, swinging your legs around to be closer to him, “And what did he say?” you questioned, an amused look on your face now, trying to mask how much his words were really affecting you. 

“He said it was acting. Make-believe. He doesn't actually have feelings for you, but he doesn't mind if people think that he does” the reporter says, taking in your expression as he lets the words fall from his mouth. You’re getting angrier by the word.

“He said it's all about the music” 

Your face stayed unmoving for a moment, staring at the reporter and taking in what he said. How the fuck was Rafe going to say that this was all make-believe? All for the music? He just told you that you made everything better, but he’s telling the reporter he’s just using you? You were so bothered, so angry you could feel the heat rising from your feet to your ears. 

But then, a big, sarcastic smile broke onto your face and you shook your head, clearing your throat and leaning in closer. 

“Do you have any coke?” 

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You skipped rehearsal the next day, knowing you were supposed to be recording vocals for a new song, but opting to throw a party here instead, drink and do drugs and party all day to get the thought of him out of your mind. Plus you knew nothing would bother him more than not showing up. Incredibly punctual that man was. 

So when Rafe showed up, he was expecting you to be passed out drunk on the floor, alone. Not swimming clothed in the pool with a hundred strangers scattered throughout the backyard. He approached the side of the pool and once you saw him, you knew you were in shit. 

“Oh yeah, oh shit” he began to discipline you as you drunkenly and lazily swam toward him. 

“Sorry!” you said, a big smile on your face and no hint of actual regret in your tone as you grabbed the ladder railing for support. 

“I have to tell you a secret” you mumbled, leaning your head on the side of the pool, beckoning him to get closer to listen to you, “I think you're the most talented person I’ve ever met” you said, with a smile still on your face, “besides me”

But Rafe doesn't find this entertaining at all, “How much have you taken?” he demanded, eyes narrow and face straight. You rolled your eyes and started to pull yourself up from the side of the pool, “I’m perfectly, perfectly in control” you slurred.

After getting out, you stepped forward onto a small pile of broken glass, probably fom some drunk idiot hours before that nobody noticed, and you were so fucked up you didn’t even notice. Your foot started bleeding and you just stood there, staring back at Rafe like he was the one acting crazy. 

He tightened his jaw, “You’re a mess right now, you know that?” He looked you up and down in a way that made you feel smaller than you've felt in a long time. 

“Fuck you” you said back, venom dripping from your tone. He turned away sharply, walking back to his car before he went too far. But you weren't going to let him get away that easily.

“Say hi to Camilla for me!” you yelled after him, name dropped his wife like you've never done before. Reminding him of the repercussions of his actions, that you knew about his life even when he was trying to make you feel shitty about yours.

And even though he couldn't admit it to himself, that his feelings for you were becoming stronger and harder to shove in a box in his brain, didn't mean it wasn't true. 

He just kept walking. Because he knew you were right. 

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Rehearsal was slow the next day, Rafe was late but of course it didn’t matter because it was him and not you, so you spent most of the day drinking, popping pills and fucking around with Warren while he drummed up stupid beats fo fun. It was actually a pretty good day. Until Rafe finally shows up. 

“I wanna hear like.. Him thinking" you half-slur to Warren, cigarette hanging from your fingers as you laid on the floor of the studio. Warren was tapping his drum sticks behind your head, trying to listen to whatever nonsense you were describing to him, and judging by your laughter, he was doing a good job, “Okay now he's getting really… stressed!” you giggled as Warren began biting other random objects on the floor, a relaxed laugh slipping from his mouth as well. 

Neither of you heard Rafe walk in, or saw the roll of his eyes when he saw the two of you messing around. 

He quickly walked in the room, not even offering Warren a glance, but kicking your foot as he towered over you, “Hey” and you sat up, a smile still on your face. Not for long. 

“I wrote something for you” Rafe said, a smug grin on his face as he handed you papers with lyrics on them. The title? 

'More Fun To Miss'

You read over a few lines, flipping the paper over like it was some joke, “More fun to miss than to be with...” you muttered the lyrics out quietly, painfully, like it wasn't a direct shot at you. 

You looked up at him with a straight face, “I’m not singing that” you stated, throwing the papers on the ground in protest, not breaking eye contact. 

Rafe stared down at you, that same smug grin still on his face, “They’re just words” he said with a tone that made you know he knew what he was doing, “What’s the problem?” 

You scoffed and stood up. If he was gonna make you sing this bullshit song, you didn’t have to do it well. 

And that's exactly what you did. For the first couple takes, he had you repeating lines, cutting you off halfway through a note, telling you to start over just after you had begun. 

“Okay, what is the fucking problem?” you raised your voice, holding our arms out in question. Rafe stared back at you, expression not breaking from inside the control room, "After yesterday, it's the least you can do” he was quick to answer. The rest of your bandmates stood behind him, not looking at you. 

You knew you messed up by not showing yesterday. You knew that. But you also knew that none of your other friends were mad, not like Rafe was. That only made you even more confused and angry. 

You huffed and rolled your eyes, “Again” he demanded, starting the song back from the beginning. 

And it went on that way for an hour. You singing, him interrupting, telling you it didn't sound good enough, it needed to be different. He was being noticeably harder on you, and everybody knew why. Everybody except for him. 

Not only was he getting on your nerves, but even the rest of your bandmates noticed there was something going on beneath just you singing the song right, and they also knew you didn't exactly react nicely to criticism. 

“Rafe, hey…” Warren started, putting a hand on Rafe's shoulder, “Just.. ease up on her, man” he said, watching you glare your eyes at Rafe and take a long swig from the flask you had tucked in your bra. 

The control room was silent. Everybody was tired, annoyed, feeling like they were intruding on something far more personal than they knew. 

Then, Rafe stood up, swiftly brushing past everybody and walking into the booth where you were standing., “Y/n, you’re not trying hard enough” he coached like you were asking. 

He kept walking closer to you, “I-I just need you to feel, alright? I mean, what are you afraid of?”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering if those words had actually just left his mouth. 

What were you afraid of?! He was the one who couldn’t own up to his feelings!

You roughly dropped your flask on the table and glared up at him, “Fuck this” you said, turning on your heel and storming out of the studio, mind racing faster and anger bubbling higher every step you took. 

As if Rafe had the audacity to accuse you of being afraid. He had to lie to the rolling stone to try to convince himself his feelings for you weren't true… unless maybe they weren't. 

Maybe he was telling the truth to the reporter, maybe it was all an act, and it was all about the music. Had he really been able to fool you that easily? Did you fall for his tricks?

Just as you thought your brain was going to start spinning, you heard Rafe calling your name from behind you, swinging the door to the parking lot open a few seconds after you. 

“Y/n!”

You stopped in your tracks, sighing and spinning around to find him less than a foot away from you. You could see the nags under his eyes, and the sweat shining on his forehead. You could smell his shampoo and see the little details in his shirt and it was all so intoxicating.

“Why are you doing this?" you asked, voice pleading. 

“This is what we do, we push each other to be better” he stated, like he wasn’t being a complete asshole for the last hour. 

“This doesn't feel like you want me to be better, it feels like you're punishing me” you retorted. 

He stayed silent. Just staring at you, eyes diving deep into yours and chest heaving lightly, as if you hit the nail on the head. It made you scoff. 

“Fine, you want me to sing your song? I’ll sing your fuckin song, if you tell me the truth” you said, stepping closer to him and pointing a finger into his chest, anger laced in your tone. You were fed up with the lies, and the games, and the manipulation. You wanted answers. 

He still just stood there, eyes boring into yours as he watched your outburst. 

“Tell me there's nothing going on between us” you said, a small nervous smile lifting up the corners of your mouth when he turned his head away, looking off into the distance as if he had been asking himself that same question. 

“Tell me that this thing, that the way I feel, that this is in my fucking head, and I’ll go in there and sing the song” you gestured to your head and took another step closer, your chests almost touching, when he looked back at you, his face full of annoyance. Like he hated that you were saying these words out loud. That you were making him confront them. 

“Tell me if I’m fucking crazy!” You demanded, getting more pissed off he wasn't saying anything. He just stood there, right in front of you, close enough you could feel his breath on your face as his chest heaved. His eyes searched yours, then down to your lips for a second, then back to your eyes. You could see a thought cross his mind, like a light bulb going off in his head.  

And then he grabbed your face and kissed you. 

He kissed you like he was hungry, like he felt every possible emotion he could for you in a burning sensation, and like he had been holding out since he met you. You could feel restraint, the tension, the feeling of knowing it was wrong. But the longer your lips were on his, the more it felt like this is what you should have been doing all along. 

He ran his hand through your hair, keeping his other hand on your face, holding your steady as you wrapped your arms around his back, pulling him closer.

So it was real. 

Nothing was said after, no conversation, no clarification, no confession. He just walked back inside, nodding his head at you to come along. 

When you got back into the studio, you sang the song for everybody again. But this time, it was different. There was power behind your voice, raw power that they hadn't heard on any of your other songs, let alone today in the studio. You had never sounded like that before, and the rest of the band didn’t even want to ask what Rafe said to you to get you to sing like that. 

And they didn’t ask. They just watched.

They watched you stare at Rafe as you sang the lyrics to his song, not looking away for even a second. They watched Rafe stare back at you, no longer picking you apart or interrupting you to start again, but looking at you with… smugness. 

Like he knew what he was doing, he knew could get you to do whatever he wanted. Like he knew he was in control. At least for right now. 

The thought made him break into a sly, devious grin, and he continued to watch you sing. A new sense of forcefulness in your belts that he knew he was responsible for, and he wanted to see how far you two could really push each other.

[littlebunnygold]

Peak (Rafe Cameron x reader)

summary: Rafe found his twin flame.

warnings: drug use

word count: 854words

a/n: lil blurb I miss summer festivals xoxo bunny

my masterlist

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It had only been a few weeks, but you and Rafe already felt inseparable in a way that surprised even you. You did everything together: lazy mornings tangled in sheets, late nights driving nowhere with music too loud, spontaneous plans that somehow always worked out. He matched your energy effortlessly. Your chaos didn’t scare him; he stepped right into it. And when he got too serious, too weighed down by his own thoughts, you were the one who pulled him back into the moment.

You liked doing drugs together, too—not recklessly, not carelessly, but intentionally. Sharing experiences, sharing trust. Letting the world soften around the edges while you talked, laughed, danced, and stayed connected. Rafe loved that about you, that you could let go and still stay grounded, that you could feel everything deeply and come back to yourself just as strong.

So when he surprised you with tickets to a massive outdoor music festival, it felt inevitable. Like something that had been waiting for you both.

The festival was huge. Open sky above, towering stages, lights slicing through the dark as bass rippled endlessly through the crowd. You held his hand as you made your way into the crowd, bodies pressing in from every direction, energy buzzing thick in the air. The music thudded in your chest, syncing your heartbeat to the rhythm before you even realized it.

When you took the molly together, it felt like a quiet little ritual. Fingers brushing, smiles shared, a quick kiss sealed with laughter. 

Us, always.

And by the time it started to bloom in your system, everything felt brighter and warmer, like the night had cracked open just for you.

Then the first notes of Licky by Larry Tee hit and your breath caught instantly. You’re favourite song. 

“No way,” you laughed, already bouncing, joy spilling out of you as the beat built.

As you dance, your body feels like it’s made of light. The bass rolls through you in waves—deep, rhythmic, almost liquid—and every pulse vibrates straight up your spine. The air is warm and thick, tasting faintly of sweat and dust and something sweet you can’t quite place. Colored lights wash over you in flashes of blue and purple, blurring at the edges like the world can’t quite keep up anymore.

You move instinctively, hips swaying back into Rafe, your body finding the beat without effort. His hands slide to your waist, grounding and warm, thumbs brushing slow circles through your shirt like he’s reminding you he’s right there. Every touch feels amplified, the press of his chest against your back, the way his breath ghosts your ear, the heat of him matching yours.

You laugh when you turn around, the sound bubbling out of you uncontrollably, and he laughs too, eyes glassy and soft and so focused on you. It’s like the crowd disappears when he looks at you that way. You dance closer, grinding, jumping, letting your head fall back as the music swallows you whole. Your skin feels electric, sensitive to everything, the brush of his fingers, the vibration of the ground beneath your feet, the way your heart syncs perfectly with the beat.

Rafe’s hands found your hips, steady and warm, thumbs brushing slow, grounding circles through your shirt. Every touch felt magnified. The press of his chest against your back, the heat of his breath near your ear, the way he moved with you like he knew your body as well as his own.

You turned to face him, laughing uncontrollably, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed with pure euphoria. He froze for just a second.

Not because he didn’t know what to do, but because he was completely enamored by you.

Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You danced closer, foreheads brushing, noses bumping as you laughed and moved together. Sometimes he danced with you, sometimes he just held you and watched, awe written all over his face while the world exploded around you.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, leaning down so only you could hear him over the music. “Tou make me feel real… like keep me grounded but you can still keep up. You do all of this with me, the life, the chaos, the fun”

Then, softer but sure.

“I love you.”

The words hit harder than the bass.

Your chest swelled, warmth blooming outward until it felt like you might burst. You grabbed his face, smiling so hard it almost hurt. “I love you too,” you said, and you meant it in a way that felt absolute.

He kissed you then, slow at first, then deeper. Messy, heated, euphoric. The crowd roared, lights flashed, the music surged, but none of it mattered. You were high on the night, on the sound, on the way loving him felt as natural as breathing.

Hours later, when the set ended and your ears rang and your legs ached, you stumbled back to your hotel room hand in hand, still buzzing, still laughing. Clothes were discarded, kisses lingered, and you collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and warmth. Hearts full, bodies humming, and Rafe showing you just how much he loved you all night long.

[littlebunnygold]

Yacht Rock (Rafe Cameron x bimbo! reader)

summary: Rafe throws a party and you bring your friend who isn't 100% convinced of his care for you, until he proves it.

warnings: some swearing, blood and cut cleanup, dumb reader what's new,

word count: 3k

a/n: not my favourite but it will do! love bimbo!reader I want the next one to be more intense so we'll see what I come up with. thank you for the love!!! xoxo bunny

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It’s been a few weeks since the cafe incident, and honestly everything has been perfect. 

Rafe hadn’t raised his voice once, hadn't been cold or sharp in that way he sometimes got when the world felt like it got too heavy. If anything, he's been sweeter, more attentive if possible. Always making sure you were comfortable, warm, happy and entertained. Dates turned into routines, routines turned into habits, and now you spent most of your nights at Rafe’s place. 

Your things had slowly migrated from your house to his without either of you really acknowledging it. Not that Rafe had a problem with it, he felt better knowing you were safe under his roof, in his bed, in his arms, where the world couldn't hurt you. 

He walked you everywhere, picked you up and dropped you off. Always texted to check in, kissed your forehead like punctuation. You’d never felt so taken care of so… loved. 

That was probably part of the reason it took you so long to realize how much time had passed since you'd last seen Jenna. 

She’d been texting you here and there, little “miss you” messages, asking when you were free, and you always meant to answer properly… you just forgot. Or you were with Rafe, or you were tired, or you just assumed you would see her soon anyway, like you always did. 

So when you finally got back to her to meet for a beach date like you used to do every weekend, she was elated but suspicious.

You were sitting on a towel near the shoreline, toes digging into the sand, the mid afternoon sun warm against your skin. The yacht bobbed lazily a little ways offshore, already buzzing with movement- music loud, people climbing aboard, the faint promise of something fun and expensive in the air.

Jenna dropped down beside you with a sigh, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair, “There you are” she said, “I was starting to think you disappeared””

You laughed immediately, “I know! I’m sorry Jen I’ve been so… busy”

“With him” she lightly added, not accusing, just stating. You nodded back in response, feeling a little guilty, but not before she compliments you. 

“You look really good, y/n” Jenna said, leaning back on her hands and glancing over at you, “Thanks!” you beamed, a big smile spread across your face, “Rafe bought this dress”

Jenna smiled, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes, not judgment, just curiosity, “Is he picking out all of your clothes now?” she chuckled gently, keeping the tone light. 

“Not always… just when he sees something he thinks I’d like” you replied, thinking back on the dozens of dresses and shoes he bought for you, saying it was to ‘remind you who makes you feel like a princess’ and you did feel like a princess.  

She only hummed in response as you kicked your feet around in the sand, relaxed, “So you’re gonna come to the party with me?” you gave her a cheeky smile and her eyes drifted over to the yacht, “Uh.. yeah, I can stop by for a bit” she smiled back at you, barely convincing, but you still hugged her in response, “Yay! It’s gonna be so fun, I thought we would head over in about an hour? That’s when I told Rafe I’d be back” 

Jenna pulled away from your embrace, taking in your meticulously polished appearance once more, “I’ve just… missed you, y/n” she said finally, softer now, “You usually don’t go this long without popping out” 

You leaned back into her without thinking, resting your head on her shoulder, “I missed you too”

The two of you stayed there for a while, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, it felt easy and normal like it always had, and you realized how much you really missed your best friend. But at some point, Jenna stopped listening to her own voice. Her eyes drifted past you and toward the yacht. 

She couldn’t see him clearly from here- just a figure on the deck with a posture like he owned the place around him. Still, Jenna could feel it, the weight of his attention and the way his gaze never really left you. She swallowed and forced her smile to stay in place.

You still didn’t notice a thing.

Of course Jenna had heard the rumours about Rafe, that he was the type to party, sometimes too hard, and he could be a controlling friend, let alone boyfriend. 

She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, just like people talked about you, it wasn’t fair to hold these rumours against him when she didn’t really know him… 

But as the sun began to dip lower, you and Jenna stayed put at the beach, giggling and gossiping, just letting the moment stretch- because even from the beach she could feel Rafe watching. 

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Rafe hated throwing yacht parties. 

They were too loud with nowhere to go, too many people no matter how predictable Kooks were, and hated that they were expected of him from his friends. That's the only reason he threw them, because Ward's name still meant something, and because people wanted access. 

But what he hated most of all, is that you weren’t here yet.

He stood near the rail, drink untouched in his hand, jaw tight as the sun sank lower and turned the water gold. Music pulsed through the deck, bodies scattered everywhere, sunglasses and linen and careless hands all over the place. Rafes eyes kept cutting towards the dock.

You were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago, he kept checking his phone: no missed calls, no missed texts, no updates. He told himself not to rush you- you were with Jenna, you were fine and you were probably just talking…  but the thought of you sitting somewhere without him, smiling at the wrong people, letting the wrong eyes linger, made something hot and restless curl in his chest. 

He told himself to breathe, you weren't doing anything wrong, you never did.

That's what made him so restless. 

Someone laughed too close behind him, a hand clapped on his shoulder, “Hell of a turn out” one of the guys said, clearly already drunk, already annoying. Rafe nodded once, distant, his attention snapped to the dock the second he saw movement. 

There you were.

Little yellow dress- the one he'd picked out. Soft, familiar, sitting just right on your body like it belonged to him. Jenna walked beside you, talking animatedly, her hand brushing you as you stepped onto the yacht a little clumsily, late and unaware. 

Relief hit him at first, sharp and immediate. Irritation followed closely behind. 

You scanned the deck, eyes lighting up when you spotted him. You smiled, that open and easy smile, and waved like you hadn’t been counting the minutes and Rafes hand tightened on his glass.

He pushed off the rail and met you halfway, already positioning himself between you and the rest of the party without thinking. His hand slid down your lower back, firm and grounding, “You okay?” he asked quietly, eyes searching your face. 

“Yeah” you said easily, “Sorry we’re late, we just lost track of time chatting” you smiled, voice light and innocent like it always was when you weren’t reading the room. 

He nodded, jaw flexing, “Text me next time.”

You didn’t hear the edge. You never did. You smiled bigger up at him and wrapped your arms around his neck, “Okay, I will” you eased him. 

Jenna lingered beside you, offering Rafe a polite smile, watchful and measured, before excusing herself toward the bar. Rafe tracked her movement for half a second, then looked back down at you. The music was louder now, the sun dipped even lower and the party swelled around you.

Rafe adjusted his stance, one arm anchoring you to his side, eyes sweeping the deck- counting how many threats, already deciding who didn’t get to look at you for too long. You leaned into him naturally, unaware of the way his world narrowed the second you arrived. 

The party carried on, loud and careless and full of people you didn’t know, and Rafe stayed right where he was- watching, waiting and keeping. 

A while later, you ended up near the kitchen inside, a natural gathering spot as it was close enough to the bar and bathroom and far enough from the edge to feel safe. You leaned against a counter beside Jenna, straw between your lips, nodding along as she talked about someone she recognized from work. Rafe stood behind you, on hand resting at your hip, absentmindedly tracing the seam on your panties like muscle memory. 

You were glowing, laughing, and comfortable… safe.

That’s the thought that kept returning to Rafe as his eyes scanned the room. You were distracted, happily so, and Jenna hadn’t left your side since you two got here. This was a rare moment where Rafe felt like he could step away without the world cracking open. 

“I’m gonna go grab a drink” he murmured near your ear and you turned nodding, “Okay”

He squeezed your hip once, out of reassurance or possession or both, then slipped through the narrow hallways towards the back of the yacht, where the noise dulled and the lights were lower. The bathroom door clicked shut behind him and he immediately grabbed the little baggie he had tucked away in his wallet, dumping the powder on his phone and cutting a few lines, snorting them roughly. 

The relief was euphoric. 

Of course you didn’t notice he didn’t walk towards the bar to get a drink like he said he was going to, but Jenna noticed. A few moments passed, and before she could stop herself she excused herself, trailing down the hallways she just saw Rafe go down, finding him leaving the bathroom.

“Rafe,” she said quietly, and he glanced over at her, already guarded, “What”

She didn’t raise her voice, didn't fold her arms, she just looked at him and shook her head slightly, “I- I know that you’re not who she thinks you are” Jenna said.

His expression hardened but a small chuckle escaped his lips, “You don’t know what she thinks” 

“She talks about you like you're.. safe” Jenna continued, “Like you’re gentle, and you are with her I can see that... but that’s not the whole picture”

Rafe scoffed, “And you think you know it better?” 

“I think I’ve been the one watching her back on this island long before you showed up” Jenna replied quickly, “I’ve been the one making sure guys don't take advantage of her, or laugh at her, or push past what she doesn't understand because you know as well as I do she doesn't… see things the way we do”

His jaw tightened.

“And now,” she went on, “you’re everywhere. She doesn't go anywhere without you, she doesn't even notice” 

“That’s because she doesn't have to anymore,” he replied sharply, “It’s not just about the people, it's about everything else. You said it yourself, she sees things differently, she doesn't know what’s dangerous. If I have to be there at all times to make sure she's protected, then that's what its gonna be"

Jenna blinked, “That’s not protection Rafe, that’s control” 

Rafe stopped closer, lowering his voice, “You don’t understand what I have around here” he said, restraining how angry he was that your friend was even questioning what he was doing for you. 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jenna asked, to which Rafe grinned slightly. 

“Power” he said simply, “People listen to me. People don’t cross lines when I’m around, they don't see her as something they can mess with... she's untouchable with me” he defended himself.

“You think she needs someone scary standing next to her to survive?"

“I think she needs someone who won't let the world chew her up and spit her out” he shot back, “And I’m not going to let her keep getting walked all over because no one else has the spine to stop it” 

Jenna searched his face, "You talk about her like she's fragile” 

“She is,” he said without hesitation, “And she needs protecting. She trusts me”

Jenna exhaled slowly, “Just… don’t turn her into something that needs you, she wears her heart on her sleeve” and Rafe straightened, already done with this conversation, “Too late” he replied.

Jenna just looked at him, deciding if she should keep going to get some more answers, but before she can-

Crash.

Glass shattered. 

Not just the sound- the pitch of it. Too close and too sudden. Rafe’s head snapped toward the kitchen, heart slamming once, hard. He already knew it was you. 

He brushed past Jenna before she could say his name, pushing past people, shoving some shoulders aside and ignoring the laughter that hadn't caught up to the panic yet. 

When he made it to you, he saw glass laying shattered around your bare feet, ice melting on the floor and liquid spreading. You stood frozen in the middle of it, eyes wide, hands shaking and tears beginning to spill as you looked down at the small red spots blooming along your feet.

“I- I didn’t mean to,” your voice cracked, breath hitching as you tried to step back and immediately winced, another piece of glass piercing your skin, “It just slipped, I thought it was plastic-” 

“Don’t move” Rafe snapped, not at you, never at you, but at the room, at the people already leaning in too close. Someone reached out instinctively and Rafe’s hand shot up, “Back the fuck up” 

The room stilled.

Rafe was standing in front of you now, he scooped you up and placed you in the counter, his feet not being affected because he had the thought to have shoes on. His hands grabbed your arms, eyes scanned you with frantic precision, “Look at me” he said, voice tight but steady, “Hey, look at me”

You did, tears clinging to your lashes, "I'm sorry” you said, sniffing and looking at him with such innocence it did something ugly to his chest. 

He dropped to his knees in front of you, gently lifting one of your feet and inspecting it, “Jesus” he sighed, jaw clenching when he saw a few pieces of thin shards of glass embedded in your feet. 

“I wasn't paying attention,” you said quietly, sniffing again, “I didn’t know-”

“I know” he said immediately, “I know” he shut his eyes briefly, then glanced around the room, not liking how many people were watching and decided to move. He scooped you up again, one arm tucked under your knees and the other secure around your back, turning back towards the bathroom. 

People parted for him this time.

Your arms looped around his neck automatically, face pressing into his shoulder as you cried harder now that you were off the ground and out of the room, “I ruined everything” 

“No,” he said firmly, carrying you down the hall, “you didn’t ruin anything, you just weren't paying attention” he nearly muttered at the end. 

He kicked the bathroom door shut behind him and set you gently on the counter, hands already reaching for bandages and towels, “Sit still” he ordered, then softened immediately, “Please.. Okay baby?” 

You nodded, sniffling. 

He knelt again, this time slower, more careful. He rinsed your feet under the sink, fingers steady despite the way his pulse thudded in his ears. He plucked glass from your skin with painstaking care, murmuring reassurances the whole time. 

“Almost done… you’re okay baby… I've got you” 

When you winced, his head snapped up, “I’m sorry, I know it hurts” 

“It’s my fault” you whispered and he shook his head, “No, it’s not" he replied, voice low and absolute, like he didn’t want you to say it again. He wrapped your feet carefully, hands lingering a second longer than necessary, like he needed the contact to ground himself. 

He let out a deep sigh, then stood, cupping your face gently and his thumbs wiping away your stray tears, “You just... need to pay better attention” he said, softer now, “You can’t just drift, alright? Not when I’m not there.. People aren’t going to watch out for you”

Your lip started trembling, “I was just-”

“I know” he cut you off, pulling you into his chest and rubbing your back. Your arms wrapped around him without a thought and he inhaled the smell of your hair when he felt you relax into his touch, "That's why I’m here... to watch out for you” and you buried your face into his shirt, feeling safe and taken care of in a way you had never experienced.

Outside the  bathroom door, Jenna stood silently. She’d watched the whole thing- the speed, the certainty, the way Rafe moved like your fear was a threat he needed to eliminate. The way his anger never landed on you, only curled inward, redirected into vigilance.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved he was in your life, or terrified. She turned away to go back to the party, conflicted and suspicious, as Rafe held you tighter. 

“You’re mine” he murmured into your hair, almost to himself, “And I won’t let anything happen to you” 

[littlebunnygold]

Do Ya Think I'm Sexy? (Rafe Cameron x kook!reader)

summary: in a world where you, Rafe, Topper, and Sarah are the most notorious double dates on the Kook side of the island, you’re known as the bubbly half to Rafe’s grumpy half, but when Sarah throws a 70’s themed party, your boyfriend shows you he can have fun for you.

warnings: none! Fluffff and fun

word count: 900ish short n sweet

a/n: no shame inspired from Rod Stewart just imagine Rafe singing this to you I NEED IT HAHA anyways loves ya enjoy xoxo bunny

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Sarah’s parties were a known thing in Kildare. 

Theme announced two weeks in advance, group chat reminders, and a very clear rule: no costume, no entry. She enforces it too- last Halloween she made someone go home and change.

So tonight, the house is a full-blown 70’s fever dream. A silver fringe curtain hangs above the doorway, disco balls spin lazily adobe the living room, scattered lighting across shag rugs and glittered walls. She even hung vinyl records to the walls. The air smelled like perfume and hairspray and whatever Topper poured in the punch that is definitely stronger than it should be. 

The four of you are posted near the edge of the living room: You, Rafe, Sarah and Topper- your usual little unit, comfortable and chaotic. 

Sarah’s leaning into Topper, laughing about something, Topper has one hand around her waist, the other already hovering near the aux cord like he's itching to take control. 

Rafe stands beside you, arms crossed, expression set in his usual unimpressed scowl. It’s not like he was miserable, he was having fun, he just didn’t have fun like everyone else. And definitely didn't show it. But that never really bothered you. 

You sip your drink and bump his shoulder, “You having fun?” you ask, grinning knowingly.

He looks around the room, people dancing, laughing, glitter literally everywhere that he knows he's gonna get stuck cleaning up tomorrow. 

“It's… a lot” he says, and Sarah snaps her head towards him, “Oh my god, he’s grumping” she said, looking up at Topper with a cheeky smile. 

“I am not grumping,” Rafe says flatly. 

Topper grins, “You’ve been grumping since I got here, man”

“I just don’t need to be screaming to enjoy myself” his voice wasn’t agitated, but defensive, and Sarah gasps dramatically, “Oh we know, you only like quiet enjoying” 

You laugh, slipping a hand behind Rafe and rubbing his back gently, “Be nice, this is basically his version of hell” you say and Rafe leans into your touch, like he's grateful for your defense, but his mouth still twitches. 

Sarah narrows her eyes at her brother, “You know what? I don't believe you” 

“Believe what?” Rafe scoffed.

“That you’re capable of having fun?” and Topper nods in agreement, “Yeah, I think you’re all talk”  he agrees with his girlfriend. 

Rafe finally uncrosses his arms, looking between them, “You two really wanna do this?” He challenged, standing up a bit straighter now, “Oh” Sarah says sweetly, “I do”

Topper taps the aux, “I really do” 

Before Rafe can respond, the opening beat to Da Ya Think I’m Sexy by Rod Stewart slides into the room, everyone beginning to dance and move. A crowd favourite.

Sarah squeals, “YES!” 

Rafe exhales sharply, shaking his head, “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” and Topper smirks, “What? Too much for you, Grumpy?” 

Rafe looks at him, and then at Sarah, and then- slowly his eyes move to you and something shifts. 

His mouth curves into a dangerous smile, “Oh,” he says, “I’ll show you a grump”

And then- right there, in front of everyone, Rafe Cameron steps forward and starts dancing. 

Not shy, not subtle. Full commitment. He rolls his shoulders, snaps his fingers to the beat, hips moving in a way that makes Sarah shriek and Topper choke on his drink. Kelce whistles from behind him, laughing. The room near loses it, and you just stare, stunned and smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. 

“Oh my God!,” you laugh, “Rafe!”

He points at you still dancing, "Grumpy who?” a grin plastered on his face, singing the lyrics to the song while keeping a beat.

Sarah pulls out her phone to record and Topper doubles over, “Since when was this an option??” 

Rafe doesnt answer, he spins and does a ridiculous disco point, then looks straight at you and holds his hands out. 

“C’mere” he says, eyes twinkling and you don’t even hesitate. 

The second you’re in front of him, he pulls you in, one arm around your waist, the other guiding you to the rhythm like he's an expert. He dances with you now, still playful and showing off, but softer. 

“You’re insane” you laugh, breathless and he grins down at you, “Worth it” he responds.

Around you, the party has gone back to enjoying the song and dancing, drinking and partying like normal, with Sarah clapping like she's witnessed history and Topper shaking his head, smiling. 

Rafe leans down, forehead resting against your, his voice low and warm, “Still think I'm grumpy?” he asked and you smiled, hands sliding up his shoulders, “I think you’re my favorite person”

His expression softens completely, “Yeah?” he murmurs and you nod back, staring up at him like he meant the world to you. Because he did. 

He kisses you then, sweet and slow, unbothered by the crowd, like the party could just disappear and he wouldn’t notice. Just you and him, disco lights spinning above, laughter and music humming all around. 

When he pulls back, he brushes his nose against yours, “Told you,” he says quietly, “I have fun, just… selectively" 

You laugh, tucking yourself back into his chest, continuing to dance to the music, and loving him even more than you already did. 

[littlebunnygold]

Party 4 U (Rafe Cameron x reader)

summary: after a brutal heartbreak, and your first year almost done at NYU, you're beginning to settle into the city when your friends convince you to come to one of the most exclusive, outrageous and extravagant parties in the upper east side, leading you to question everything since the break up.

warnings: swearing, drinking, makeout and yearning HA

word count: 4.5k

a/n: okay never done anything like this like super non-canon but what else is new it was so much fun to write!! I saw an edit to the Great Gatsby with Party 4 U by CharliXCX and seriously just locked in it came to me like a vision all you need is a penjamin and dream! he threw this party for you <3 I hope you like it thank you for reading!! xoxo bunny

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You and Rafe Cameron had been broken up for a year.

Not in the dramatic, screaming-match way people always seem to imagine, not the kind that leaves scorch marks and blocked numbers and mutual friends choosing sides. Yours ended quietly, painfully, with too many unsaid things and one sentence that still circles your head when you can’t sleep:

‘I need to grow somewhere you’re not’

You meant it. You still do. You just didn’t realize how lonely growth would feel.

New York was supposed to save you, that was the plan at least. NYU brochures spread across your bed back in the Outer Banks, sunlight shining through salt-stained windows, Rafe pretending not to notice your fingers lingered on the photos of giant brick buildings and libraries with millions of books, and people who looked like they were going somewhere. 

He would sometimes make comments about how you wouldn’t like it, how it would be too cold or too busy, and you smiled like it didn’t sting. Like you didn’t already know how afraid he was of anything that pulled you further away from him, knowing he wouldn’t understand.

Wouldn’t even try.

So you left. And now your life is syllabi and deadlines and subway delays. Professors who don't know your name but know your writing voice. Lecture halls that smelled like coffee and wet wool in the winter. Papers returned with neat comments in the margins- insightful, promising, push this further.

You’re doing well. Really well. Your GPA is higher than it’s ever been, you sit in the front row without thinking twice, you talk in seminars and argue your points. You learned how to articulate yourself without apologizing first. Your advisor tells you you're exactly where you're supposed to be and you nod like you believe it. 

Some day you do. But Rafe lingers in the quiet moments. 

In the way you still wake up before your alarm, disoriented, expecting ocean air instead of sirens. In the way your phone feels heavier at night. In the way you think of him when you pass by boys who look like they could belong to him- careless posture, expensive jackets, restless energy. 

You haven’t spoken since the breakup. Not a text, not a drunk voicemail, not even a like on social media. You asked him not to.  

Because loving Rafe Cameron was like loving a storm- thrilling, consuming, but never stable. He loved hard, but inconsistently. Promises made in the heat of the moment but forgotten when things got complicated. He wanted you, but not enough to change. Not enough to meet you where you were going. And you couldn’t stay in the Outer Banks shrinking yourself to make him comfortable. 

So you chose yourself, and you mourn him anyway. 

Your roommates didn't know the full story, they knew there was a boy and he lived somewhere warm and coastal and that you don’t like talking much about him when you’ve had too much wine. They know you’ve never brought anybody back to the apartment, never even flirted beyond something polite and distant. 

They tease you gently, calling you mysterious, or old-soul, saying things like “When she finally goes out, it’s gonna be a moment”

You don’t tell them that you’re afraid. 

Not of New York, not of parties, but of what happens when you stop holding him at arms lengths. Of what might spill out once the music gets loud enough to drown out your better judgment. Some nights, when the work is done and the city quiets just a fraction, you let yourself remember him properly. 

Rafe leaning on the hood of his truck, barefoot, cigarette burning between his fingers, watching you like he couldn’t decide if you were going to save him or ruin him. Him always promises to do better, next time, always next time. 

You wonder if he ever grew up.

You wonder if he hates you.

You wonder- quietly and shamefully, if he ever looks for you in crowded rooms, at blaring parties or when he smelled your perfume pass by. Not that you would actually be at a party. 

No matter how wild the rumours were about the parties thrown on the upper east side. 

At first, they’re just stories you overhear while waiting for coffee or sitting on the floor of a friend-of-a-friends apartment, shoes kicked off, someone passing a joint you politely decline. A girl you barely know says, “Did you see that place?” and someone else laughs like they don’t even have a language to describe it. 

They’re extravagant. That’s the word people keep using. 

Not frat-house chaos or downtown grime, but something older, sharper. Crystal glasses instead of plastic cups, live jazz bleeding into electronic music, balconies full of cigarette smoke and laughter. People dressed like they're auditioning for a version of themselves that's richer, freer, untouchable. 

Someone says the champagne is real. And someone says there are hired drivers outside all night, just waiting. Another swears they saw a string quartet at one of them, playing in the middle of a living room while people lively danced around like it was nothing.

It feels theatrical. Intentional. Like whoever is throwing them wants to be seen without ever being known. 

They always happen uptown, always. An old building with history baked into the walls, apartments that looked like they've never known rent control. No flyers, no public invites. You either get sent an address the day of- or you don’t. And hundreds of people still manage to show up.

It became a joke, almost. A marker of social currency, ‘Have you been to one yet?”  people post blurry photos- gold light, silk dresses, champagne scattered in a glowing atmosphere. No captions, just proof. 

You notice them, distantly, but you don’t really care who’s behind them. You don’t speculate, you don't lean in when people start guessing crypto guy, european art dealer, some trust fund collective bored with normal nightlife. You’re too busy surviving midterms. 

Too busy annotating books on subway rides and memorizing professor preference. Too busy convincing yourself you don’t miss the kind of life where excess was normal. Where chaos felt romantic. Where love came fast and burned even faster. Parties are noise, distraction, things you’ll get to hear, maybe. 

But your roommates, Hannah and Peyton cared. 

They care in the way people do when they're young and want to feel like the city noticed them back. They track the parties like constellations, connecting stories, waiting for their moment.

So when Hannah’s phone buzzed one Friday evening, screen lighting up the dim kitchen, you didn't think much of it. Until she went still and gasped so suddenly you jumped in your seat, “Stop!” she exclaimed, standing up and a giant grin on her face, “Shut up!” her enthusiasm bringing Peyton out of her room, “What?” she asked, gently combing through her hair. 

She stares at her phone like it might vanish, “I just got sent an address” she jumped for joy as Peyton's expression turned to shock, “For the party?? No way!” they were both getting excited now, jumping and dancing around, and it actually made you giggle, “Tonight's the night!” Hannah cheered, breathless.

The room hums with a different kind of energy now. Anticipation, possibility, the kind of excitement that makes people feel chosen. You close your laptop, “I don’t know if i’m gonna go” you began rubbing the back of your neck, “I’m tired’

They both looked at you, not annoyed, not surprised, just knowing. 

“You’ve been ‘tired’ for like, a year” Peyton said gently, Hannah tipping her phone toward you now, “And! You can’t keep pretending New York is something you only observe” she added. 

That made you sit back for a second. Maybe you have been taking a backseat to your New York life.. It wasn’t like you meant to, you were just waiting until you were ready, but for some reason, one you don’t examine too closely, your chest feels tight, like the city has shifted on its axis. 

Like something has finally decided to stop waiting. 

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A few hours later, music is paying off Hannah’s speaker, probably too loud for your neighbor's sake, but you’re all buzzed enough to not care. The apartment smells like vanilla perfume and heat from hair tools, mixed in with the sweet and cheap wine poured into your mismatched glasses. Peyton's bed becomes a battlefield of dresses, jewelry and shoes kicked off without a ceremony, as she always had the best style between you three. 

You were more used to bikinis under a loose sundress.

You hover at first, watching, sitting at the edge of your own bed like you might change your mind, then someone presses a glass to your hand, “To a roomie's night out!” Peyton cheers, “Finally!” she exclaimed, all three of you smiling and taking a sip. Then another, the burn settling warm in your chest, loosening something that's been knotted tight for months. You let them curl your hair, line your eyes darker than usual, and pull you into the mirror with them.

You barely recognize yourself. Not in a bad way , just… glamourized. Like someone who maybe belongs in the city instead of passing through it. 

The dress Peyton put you in was smooth against your skin, a fabric that didn’t ask for permission, confidence stitched into the seams and when you finally get a good look at yourself, your roommates are already staring, “There she is!” Hannah exclaims, “I told you, it was going to be a moment!”  she continues, both her and Peyton taking fake paparazzi pictures of you and giggling, telling you how much of a “hot mama” you are, which eventually got you laughing too. 

You drink a little more, not enough to be careless- just enough to stop overthinking, to stop categorizing exists and outcomes and memories you don't want following you into the night. Still, as you zip up your purse and step into your heels, something low settles in your stomach.

A feeling. Subtle but present. Like the air before a storm. You shake it off. 

This is just nerves, you tell yourself, first night out and letting yourself be seen again. You’re allowed to feel strange about it. You don’t say anything, not wanting to disappoint not only your friends, but yourself. You just follow your friends out the door, down the stairs and into the city buzzing and bright and waiting.

Tonight is about fun, so you decide to not read into the feeling… not yet. 

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The car drops you off on a quiet upper east side street. Too quiet.

The kind of block where the buildings stand tall and dignified, carved stone facades glowing under soft streetlights. Wrought-iron railings, tall arched windows, doormen who look like they've been there since the building was born. Everything about it whispers old money- the kind that doesn't announce itself because it never had too. You had seen this kind of money before.

Hannah checked her phone again,"This is it”

You tilt your head back taking it in. The building was stunning, impossibly grand. Limestone steps worn smooth by decades of polished shoes and quiet power There’s no sign, no line snaking down the block, no chaos spilling into the street. Just a steady stream of beautiful people slipping inside like they belong.

You do too, somehow. 

The door opens and it hits you all at once, the music is deep layered and alive, spilling into the marble lobby. Laughter echoing up the stairwell, the sharp pop of a champagne corkscrew somewhere above. The air smells of expensive perfume, smoke, something warm and indulgent you can't name. 

Inside, it’s chaos in the most elegant way possible. 

The apartment stretches impossibly wide, room bleeding into room, ceilings high enough to swallow sound. Chandeliers glow low and golden, casting everything in a honeyed light. Women in beautiful dresses brush past you, men in tailored suits lean against doorframes like they owned the place- or wish they did. 

There were hundreds of people. Not packed in, not frantic, just… everywhere. Sprawled across couches, perched on window ledges, crowding balconies, dancing in corners where a DJ blends seamlessly into a live band like it was planned months ago. 

Someone hands you a glass before you can even ask.

Champagne, Cold and real. Your sense overload. 

You feel small and electric at the same time, like you've stepped into a dream someone else is paying for. It’s wild but not sloppy, uncontrolled but intentional. Like the entire night has been curated to feel just a little too good to be true. 

Hannah and Peyton get swallowed by the crown almost immediately, pulled towards laughter and flirtation. You let it happen, drifting and sipping until you're moving with the music, pulse syncing with something ancient and indulgent and reckless. For the first time since you left the Outer Banks, you don’t feel like you’re pretending. 

You feel alive.

The city stretches out through tall windows- Manhattan glittering, endless, watching. Smoke curls through the air, someone laughs too loud, someone kisses someone they probably shouldn’t. And beneath it all, the spectacle and the music and the champagne, you feel it again. 

That tug. That sense that this night isn’t random. That you didn’t just stumble here by accident after all this time. You turn slowly, champagne glass forgotten in your hand, eyes drifting upward without knowing why. 

That’s when you see him. 

Rafe stands on the balcony above the main room, half-shadowed, leaning forward over the railing like he's afraid to blink. His suit jacket is open, shirt collar undone, his hair longer and darker than you remember, like he hasn’t been in the sun. For a split second he looks stunned- like the city has just reached up and touched him. 

Like he didn’t think this would actually work. 

Your breath catches in your chest and a year collapses into a single moment. 

He isn’t talking, isn’t drinking, isn't performing for anyone around him. His entire attention is fixed on you, eye soft and unguarded in a way you haven't seen since the very beginning- before things got hard. 

Then he smiles. Not cocky or smug, but relieved. 

It’s small and private, like it's only meant for you, like he’s been holding it back all night, waiting for permission. Your heart stutters painfully in your chest. 

This is impossible. This has to be a coincidence. New York is too big to work like this 

And yet… the music swells and the room blurs at the edges. The champagne tastes too sweet now, too sharp. You’re suddenly aware of yourself- your dress, your hair, the way you;re standing in a room he clearly built like an offering. 

People move between you, breaking the line of sight for half a second. When they clear, he’s still there, still looking, like he’s been waiting a year for this exact second. 

For a moment you just stand there. The room feels too loud now, too bright, like every sense has been turned up past what you can handle. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, drowning out the music, the laughter, the clink of glasses. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You didn’t come here for closure, or to reopen something you worked so hard to put away. A year of discipline and distance starts to unravel all at once, and suddenly you're afraid. Afraid of what you’ll say, afraid of what he’ll say, afraid that if you let him get close again, you'll forget how to be without him.

So you do the only thing you can think to do… turn away.  

Not running, just redirecting. Slipping through bodies and silk and smoke, moving with purpose even though your hands are trembling. You push past a pair of laughing girls, dodge someone spinning with a drink held high, and find a hallway mercifully quieter than the rest. 

The bathroom door gleams at the end like a promise. You slip inside and lock it, pressing your back against the cool wood as soon as it clicks shut. The music dulls to a distant thrum and you take a few deep breathes. 

Your reflection stares back at you from the mirror- eyes bright, lips parted, chest rising too fast. You don’t recognize yourself like this: undone, caught off guard, sixteen again in the worst way, “Get it together” you whispered to yourself, trying to convince yourself this is just shock. Just nostalgia colliding with champagne and low lighting. You run cold water over your wrists, grounding yourself, letting the moment pass. 

But it doesn't. 

Because across the apartment, Rafe loses sight of you. 

One second you're there- real, glowing, impossibly beautiful in a way that feels like a reward and a punishment all at once, and the next you’re gone. 

His chest tightens, a year of waiting, of patience, of pretending these parties were about anything other than you, suddenly threatens to collapse into panic. He scans the crowd, leaning over the railing, heart hammering like he’s about to lose you all over again.

Don’t leave. Please don’t leave. 

He doesn't think. He just moves.

Down the stairs, two at a time, shouldering through the crowd of people who barely register. Apologies fall from his mouth without much meaning; his eyes stay sharp, searching, refusing to accept that this ends with you disappearing again. 

He knows that look on your face- right before you pulled away. Right before you said you needed more than he knew how to give. And he’s not letting it happen again. 

He spots a quiet hallway, still remembering your habit of finding the least crowded spot at a party, and when he sees the bathroom door shut, his sixth sense told him it was you. He approached the door and exhaled, reaching for the handle just as you switched off the sink.

You hear the knock, soft and careful, not demanding. 

Your heart stumbles and for a second, you consider staying silent. Letting the night swallow this moment whole. Letting him think that you left, that the magic didn't work at all. Then his voice cuts through the door, low and unmistakable.

“It’s me” 

You don’t open the door right away, resting your forehead against the wood, hand on the handle and eyes squeezed shut like that might reset everything. Like when you open them, the year won't collapse in on itself all at once. 

On the other side of the door, Rafe waits. He tells himself not to rush you. He;s had a year to practice patience- though he’s been bad at it, truthfully. A year of restraint, of swallowing impulses, of letting absence do the work he never could while you were his. 

You asked him to leave you alone. So he did, in every way that mattered. No calls, no texts, no showing up where you might be. Instead, he built a beacon. 

The first party had been an accident- flying to New York to try to find you, but quickly realizing that would be near impossible without reaching out, but he needed to make sure to give you the space you needed. He ended up being too loud, too much, and too obvious. He almost scrapped the whole idea after that. But then someone mentioned the “crazy rager the other night” at a bar, and someone else asked who was behind it, ‘I’d kill to get invited to one of those’

And Rafe thought of you. Of New York, of the way you used to talk about it like it was a living thing. Of how you loved beautiful chaos when it wasn’t hurting you. So he refined it, elevated it, and turned it into something mythic. 

And he decided to stay. Every party after that was thrown with the same quiet hope: maybe this time. Every address sent out like a message in a bottle, hoping it found someone in your secret friend group he knew nothing about. A complete shot in the dark backed up by nothing but sheer hope and need. 

And tonight- when he saw you standing there, champagne in hand, eyes wide and shining, he almost forgot how to breathe. Because you looked so yourself but… more. 

Stronger but softer, like the city had taken care of you in a way he didn’t know how to. 

On the other side of the door, you finally moved and opened it.

Rafe straightens immediately, like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do. His expression isn't hungry or frantic- it's careful. Concerned. Almost shy in a way that surprises you. 

“Hey” he breathes out.

Just that. No dramatics, no grand declarations, Like he's afraid too much will see you running again. 

“Hey” you echoed, quieter. The hallway feels suddenly too narrow, too intimate. Light spills in from the bathroom behind you, catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, a closer look at his face shows you he's sporting some facial hair, and the familiar curve of his mouth makes your cheeks turn slightly pink. He looks good- really good. But more than that, he looks… steady.

“You okay?” he asks, scanning your face, earnest, "You disappeared and I-” he stops himself and softens, “I didn’t want to overwhelm you”

Something in your chest loosens, “I just needed-” you caught yourself, “It’s.. a lot in there” you gestured towards the noise down the hall. He nods immediately, “Yeah, it is”

A beat passes. Then, gentler, “You look amazing, by the way” he runs a hand through his hair like he had been thinking about saying that since you got here and you laugh under your breath, “So do you” 

Neither of you moves closer yet, it feels important- this space. This proof that something had changed. 

“So,” you say, glancing past him again at the distant thrum of music, “This party is insane” and you see the corner of his mouth lifts, “They’ve gotten a little out of hand”

They’ve.

You tilt your head, “You’ve been to these before?” you questioned, and he answered without thinking, “All of them”

You blink up at him, a clearly confused expression across your face. He freezes for half a second, like he's just stepped into something he hadn't meant to yet. Then he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I- yeah. I mean… I've been around” and there's something in his tone, not smug or evasive but almost embarrassed.  

“And you just… know whoever's throwing them?” you press, eyes squinted and slightly amused now. 

He hesitates and then decides, clearly, not to lie to you, “I might…” he says carefully, “Have a little insight”

You study his face, the way he won't quite meet your eyes now, the way his jaw tightens like he's bracing for impact, “Rafe..” you say slowly, beginning to put together the pieces he's laying out.  

He finally looks at you, expression open and unguarded in a way that steals your breath.

“It means that when you told me to leave you alone so you could grow… I listened"

Your heart stuttered.

“And it also means” he continues, softer now, “that I didn't stop loving you. I just tried to love you… quietly”

Your lip turned up slightly at the construction of his words, loving you quietly as you stood in one of the largest parties you’ve ever attended, the hallway was starting to feel warmer. 

“I started throwing them every weekend,” he admits, “Not for the attention, not for the scene.. I figured if I invited enough people- if I made it big enough, eventually someone in your bubble would get the address” he said, a small self-conscious smile on his face.

You just stared up at him, ‘You did all of this… just in case?” 

“They were all for you” he nods, “Because you asked me not to come looking for you, and I wanted to respect that” he’s looking right in your eyes and emotion swells in your chest, warm and overwhelming. 

“You’ve grown,” he says, eyes shining now, “I can see it. You look happy, confident, like New York has been good to you”

“It has” you say, a smile forming, “I worked really hard”

“I know, honey” he says, the name he used to call you slipping out made you heart flutter so hard you could feel it in your fingertips, “I worked really hard too”

Silence settles- but it’s soft now, full instead of heavy, "I didn't want to pull you backwards,” he says, “I just wanted a chance to walk forward with you. If you wanted that too”

You step closer, not ruched or afraid.

“I didn’t come looking for you,” you say, “But… I’m really glad I found you” and this time, his breath catches at your words, “Me too” he murmurs, eyes dipping down to your lips for half a second before swallowing.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The party hums around you- luxury and excess and noise, but here, in this narrow hallway, it feels like something else entirely.

Rafe’s hand lifts slowly at first- slow, like he's still giving you a chance to stop him, and settles at your waist. Warm, solid and real. The contact sends a shiver straight through you, sharp and distant, like a memory come back to life. He continues leaning in and you stay still.

“You sure?” he whispers, nose brushing yours.

You answer by closing the distance. 

He kisses you differently than he had in the Outer Banks- careless, rushed, field by heat and impatience.

This one is deep and deliberate, mouths fitting together like something cherished and remembered. Rafe kisses you like he's been waiting a year and knows exactly what it cost him.

His other hand comes up, thumb brushing your jaw, tilting your face just enough to deepen it, your tongues dancing together. You feel it everywhere- the way his breath stutters, the way his grip tightens like he's anchoring himself.  

The music fades to a dull echo, all that exists is the press of him against you, the familiar heat, the way your body responds without hesitation, like it never forgot. When you pull away -barely- your lips are swollen, breath uneven. Rafe rests his forehead on yours, eyes dark and searching your face like he’s making sure you’re still there. 

“I’ve missed this” he admits quietly, peppering kisses on your cheeks and jaw.

“Me too” you whisper. His mouth finds your neck then, his touch light, but enough to make your knees soften and your fingers curl into his suit jacket. It’s restrained- but barely. Like you’re both aware of how thin the line is now. 

Somewhere behind you, laughter erupts, the party surges on, oblivious, and Rafe exhales a shaky laugh against your skin, “We should probably not do this in a.. hallway” and you smile breathless, “Probably”

But neither of you moves yet. You just stood there, warm in his embrace, his hands roaming your body and a weight felt like it had been lifted off of you. No matter what comes next- later, somewhere quieter, you already knew what you wanted. 

He waited for you. Did all of this for you.

And this time, you’re not walking away.

[littlebunnygold]

Iced Vanilla Chai (Rafe Cameron x bimbo!reader)

Times Like These

summary: A month after your first date, and Rafe's presence already feels more normal than not. Although you trust him to handle things you don't understand, and when eyes start to linger, the need to protect you is tightened.

warnings: some drugs, swearing, sexualizing I guess? idk

word count: 3.7k

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! this is like my last calm month before I move and my leg is still broken in a cast so I've just been uppppp but I love this story line!! already have a new idea for the next one thank you for all the love!!! xoxo bunny

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Rafe dropped you off outside the cafe like it was routine now, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to smooth out the bottom of your skirt, not liking how it was riding up your thighs. 

This had become a normal occurrence when Rafe would take you on dates: you would see a movie, get ice cream, walk on the beach, go shopping… really whatever you wanted to do, and he never seemed to mind. 

But near the end, he always had some “errands to run” and you “weren’t allowed to come” which you never understood, but also never questioned. It wasn’t the first thing Rafe did that confused you, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

Plus he always paid for your chai latte while you waited for him to finish and come pick you back up, so you didn’t mind waiting for him. Sometimes he would even come back with flowers for you. 

“Text me when you get your drink” he said, looking at you stern but sweet, “I will” you promised with ease, like it was second nature. 

He leaned over and kissed your temple, lingering for a moment before pulling away and reaching over to open the passenger door for you from the inside, “And don’t… talk to anyone you don’t have to, okay?” he said, pulling down the bottom of your dress that was riding up your thigh, the dress he had bought you the week prior.

You smiled at him before getting out of the truck, “Okay” you replied in a sweet tone before turning and making your way inside the cute coffee shop. 

Rafe watched you walk all the way inside before pulling away like he always did, watching until you were just out of sight, before hastily making his way to Barry’s so you wouldn’t have to wait too long. He told you he had errands to run, nothing important, it never was- just stuff that needed to be done. 

He knew that you wouldn’t understand that side of him when he’s around Barry- sharper, colder, uglier tinges in his voice and buzzing under his skin, let alone how Barry would behave if Rafe started bringing you around. He liked you better untouched by that part of him. 

Clean, soft, unaware. 

Barry’s place was just a short drive from the cafe he dropped you at, precisely why he chose it. His jaw was already tight, anticipation crawling up his spine like static. 

He would never call it a problem, an addiction. He never had. Cocaine wasn’t something he worried about- it kept him sharp, focused, ahead of everyone else, something that he felt helped keep you safe. 

Control, in powdered form. 

Barry grinned when he saw him, always too wide, always knowing. Rafe barely listened as he handed over a wad of cash, fingers already itching, mind already halfway back to you, to the cafe, to the chair you’d be sitting in, the rules he put in place so you didn’t have to think too hard about the world.

You trusted him to handle parts that you couldn’t see, and he intended to keep it that way.  

Inside the cafe, you ordered the same thing you always did, iced chai latte with extra vanilla, extra sweet how you like it. You smiled at the barista, thanking her twice before tucking yourself into a small table by the window, patiently waiting for Rafe to return while scrolling on your phone and taking slow sips of your latte, before someone stopped in front of your table. 

“Well look at you”

You looked up blinking, a smile already forming out of habit.

It was Topper. 

He stood there like he’d been debating whether or not to interrupt you, hands in his pockets and eyes sweeping over you in a way that felt casual- not obvious.

“Oh, hey” you put your phone down, happy that it was someone you knew.

Rafe had introduced you to Topper last weekend, although you wouldn’t say it was a proper introduction. You said your name to him, and Rafe answered all the questions from there, like he always did. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you, you just looked real comfortable over here” and you laughed softly, “I come here a lot” you replied, taking another sip of your latte. 

“Yeah?” he continued, pulling out the chair across from you without asking, “With Rafe?”

You nodded, smiling at the mention of his name, “He drops me off sometimes” you replied as Topper sat down, humming, “That so” he said, although he sounded like he had more questions. 

In the short time you had been with Rafe, Topper knew he was reluctant to leave your side. He leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out like he had nowhere else to be, eyes flicking to your drink briefly before returning to your face, “Same order everytime?” 

You glanced down at your cup, “Yeah.. I like sweet things” which made him grin, “Figures” he said amused, “You always this agreeable?”

You smiled, not hearing the edge under his tone, “I don’t like to be any more difficult that I already am.. Or that’s what my parent’s say” you replied, blushing a bit as you had gotten asked that question quite often. 

Topper's mouth twitched like he found your answer interesting.

“Rafe pick that dress out?” he asked casually, looking you up and down quickly as your face lit up, “Yeah! He bought it for me, he’s the sweetest” you gushed. 

“Thought so, looks like his taste.. Soft and simple. Shows off just enough” 

His eyes ran over you again, slower this time, but you still didn’t notice the sexualizing gaze they held, or the condensing tone in his voice. You smiled back at him, “Thank you! I wasn’t sure if it was too much pink” you admitted, patting down your dress like Rafe had done earlier. 

Topper leaned forward then, resting his forearms on the table, “Nah, it works, it makes you look…” he paused, like he was choosing his words carefully, “easy to approach” he finished and you let a small giggle out before nodding and taking another sip of your latte.

“People say that alot” 

“I believe it” he replied , fingers tapping lightly on the table as he spoke- close enough that when you gestured while talking, his knuckles brushed your hand. It was brief, incidental, the kind of touch that didn’t demand a reaction, at least not to you. So you didn’t pull away. 

“So, what” he went on, “Rafe’s got you on standby while he handles things?’ he asked and you shrugged, “He said he had some stuff to do”

Topper smiled at that, not unkindly, just… knowing, “Yeah, sounds like him” 

He reached out then, slow and unhurried, brushing a loose strand of hair back from your shoulder. His touch was light, almost absentminded, like he knew you wouldn’t have a problem with it. And you didn’t.

“You ever get bored of waiting around?’ he asked, settling back in his seat and you shook your head, “Not really, he waits for me to try on like a million dresses so, I don’t mind.. He says I'm low maintenance” you smiled.

“I’ll bet he likes that.”

He stood after a moment, straightening his shirt , “Well, I won’t keep you, just wanted to say hi” he said, smiling and pushing his chair back under the table. 

“Oh,” you said quickly, “Okay! Well it was nice seeing you!” you said, standing up to give him a quick hug goodbye, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment but not long enough for you to notice or question. 

When you pulled away, he smiled again, wider this time “Yeah, it was” 

Before he turned away, he added lightly, “Tell Rafe I said hi, and that he’s got good taste” he grinned and you waved as he walked out the door, attention already back to your phone, remembering to text Rafe that you were sitting. 

You didn’t think about the way Topper's eyes had lingered too many times, or how he had touched you like you knew you wouldn’t stop him. You didn’t even notice. 

You just waited for Rafe.

The next day 

Tannyhill was too quiet in the mornings. The kind of quiet that made Rafe restless. 

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, coffee untouched, jaw tight like he’d been grinding his teeth all night. He hadn’t slept much, not being anything was wrong- nothing ever was, not with you, but because his head wouldn’t shut up. The noise came and went in waves, sharp and insistent, and he told himself it was nothing. Just the result or staying up too late, just his brain moving faster than everyone else’s. 

He checked his phone again. No new messages. 

After reluctantly dropping you off at your house last night, you texted him goodnight like you always did when you weren’t staying at his place. Hearts and smiley faces, you sounded happy. Normal. Safe. That should’ve been enough. 

The front door opened without a knock, “Jesus” Topper said as he stepped inside the mansion, already grinning, “You ever lock this place?” 

Rafe didn’t look up, “What do you want, Top?” he asked, already annoyed at his presence. Not the time for his shit, and Topper always had shit. 

Toper laughed, kicking the door shut with his heel, “Damn, good morning to you too” he panned and wandered in like he owned the place, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, eyes flicking around until they landed back on Rafe, who still hadn't looked his way, eyes glued to his phone. 

“So..” he started, twisting the cap open, “Where’s your girl?” 

Rafe stiffened, not particularly liking the fact his friend was asking about you, “What?” he asked flatly as Topper took a long drink of his water, watching him over the rim. 

“Your girlfriend, the sweet one, thought she’d be glued to your side by now” Topper replied, putting his water down and watching the gears turn in Rafe’s head, amused. Something cold slid down Rafe’s spine, “She’s not here” he said curtly, “Why?” and Topper shrugged his shoulders, like it was casual, “Just wondering. Saw her yesterday” 

Rafe’s head snapped up at that. 

“You did what?” his voice raising slightly, thrown off by the confession as Topper’s smile widened, “Relax bro, I was at the cafe near the cut, saw her sitting there. Looked good” 

Rafe straightened slowly, every muscle in his body going taut, “You talk to her?” 

“Little bit” Topper replied easily, “She’s nice.. Real polite”

Rafe didn’t answer. His brain was already replaying it- you at the table, your drink, the way you smiled at strangers like you trusted them, the way you listened. The way you didn’t pull away. Topper kept going, oblivious or intentionally pushing, it didn’t matter to Rafe. He didn’t want to hear another word out of his mouth. 

“That dress she had on- the pink one. Definitely you, you always pick her clothes or what? She like your Barbie doll?” he teased and Rafe’s fingers curled against the counter, hating how his friend knew of his antics. 

“She didn’t tell me” Topper added, amused, “I just figured. Looks like something you’d want people seeing her in” 

Rafe’s chest was getting tighter with every word that came out of his mouth, “What exactly did you say to her?” he asked, voice low and serious. Topper tilted his head up, studying him now, “Man, you’re wound up” he tried, but Rafe wasn’t having it.

“What did you say” Rafe repeated, more of a demand than a question. Topper sighed theatrically, “Nothing crazy, just talked. She’s easy to talk to. Doesn’t overthink shit” 

That word… easy… landed wrong. It lodged under Rafe’s ribs and stayed there. 

“She didn’t even realize I was flirting” Topper added with a chuckle, “Kinda cute, actually’ 

That was it. Rafe pushed off the counter and took a step forward. Not too aggressive, not too loud, just enough to shift the air in the room. 

“Don’t talk about her like that” he said, anger clear in his eyes. Topper blinked, then laughed again, “Like what? I didn’t do anything man, you know that, she’s just…” he gestured vaguely, “Sweet. Open. Little spacey” 

Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard it ached, “That’s not an invitation” he shoved Topper back a few feet, “That’s you seeing something you think you can take” 

Topper looked as his friend, not surprised by the outburst, scoffing as he fixed his shirt, “Jesus dude, you’re acting like a crossed some line” 

“You did” Rafe snapped- then stopped himself, inhaling sharply through his nose. He closed his eyes for half a second. When he opened them, his voice was calmer, colder, “You don’t talk to her without me around” he said, “Ever”

Topper made a face of confused amusement, raising his eyebrows, “You serious?”

A beat passed as Rafe stared at Topper, getting his point across without using words. 

Topper smirked and shook his head, “Damn, you really got her on lockdown, huh?” 

Rafe stepped away, walking around to the fridge for his own water, not answering his friend's question. 

Topper leaned against the counter now, unfazed, “Careful Rafe. You keep her that sheltered, she’s gonna start asking questions”

That made something dark stir in Rafe’s chest, “She doesn’t need to ask any questions” he defended himself, “I handle things”

Topper grinned and laughed quietly, “Yeah, I bet you do” he muttered, his eyes flicking over to the small plate on the counter and the folded bill Rafe hadn’t bothered hiding yet. His grin turned knowing. 

“Funny,” he said lightly, “She really has no idea, does she?” he asked, gesturing to the lines cut out on the plate, and Rafe’s eyes went sharp, “Watch your mouth” he barked out. 

“Relax” Topper said, holding up his hands in fake surrender, “I’m just saying. You play house, you keep her all clean and pretty, while you're out there doing your… errands”  

The word dripped with implication. 

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about” Rafe retorted, but Topper could tell he was getting under his skin and shrugged, “Just seems like a lot of effort to keep someone that protected” 

Protected. Rafe latched on to the word like it proved his point. 

“She needs it!” He said immediately, “She doesn't see people the way I do, the way they are! She thinks everyone is being nice” 

Topper tilted his head, “And you like that?”

Rafe didn’t hesitate to say yes, because it meant you trusted him. It meant you leaned into his rules without pushing back, it meant when he told you what was safe, you believed him.

It meant you were his. 

“She doesn’t know what guys want from her, not at all,” Rafe continued, more to himself now than to Topper, “She doesn't recognize when someone is pushing, when they're testing what they can get away with” 

Topper studied him, quieter now, “And you think you’re different?”

“I am different” Rafe said, confidence laced in his tone, “Because I don’t take from her. I keep”

And that settled it, Topper exhaled roughly, shaking his head, “Fuck man.. You’re in deep”

Rafe didn’t argue or deny it, because as he stood there, heart pounding with the image of you smiling at Topper like he was harmless, something solidified in his chest. 

Rules aren’t optional, protection wasn’t a suggestion. You didn’t need to understand the world, you just needed to stay close to him. 

And Rafe already knew, the next time he saw you he was going to make that very clear. 

A few hours later 

Topper had been gone for hours, but his words still hadn’t left. They sat in Rafe's head, looping, irritating, needling into places he didn't like to examine too closely. 

‘She really has no idea, does she?’

Rafe  made his way back downstairs to the kitchen and stood at the sink, hands braced against the counter, staring at nothing. The house felt too empty , and too big. His jaw was still aching, and he could feel that relentless buzz under his skin- not enough to make him frantic , just enough to keep him sharp, alert, on edge. 

He hated that Topper had seen you without him there, who knows what he could have said or done and it would have gone right over your head. The thought made his skin crawl. 

The sound of the front door opening cut through his thoughts, his head snapping up, “Rafe?” your voice called out, soft and familiar. His chest loosened in an instant, “In here” he said, already turning. 

You came into the house like you always did, unguarded, light, sundress brushing your thighs, eyes lighting up when you saw him. You looked… fine. Happy. Exactly the way you sounded over text. That didn’t make him feel better. 

“There you are” you said with a smile, setting your purse down, “You never texted me back” 

“Phone died” he lied automatically, crossing the room toward you and instantly pulling you to him. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, then your temple, lingering longer than usual before giving you lips a soft but hungry kiss, hands sliding down to your waist, steadying you- grounding himself. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head after he pulled away from your kiss, “You feel… tense” and he huffed a quiet breath through his nose. 

“I’m fine” he said, brushing your hair back gently, “Just thinking” and you nodded back, accepting it immediately, the acceptance did something sharp and painful to his chest. You trusted him so easily. When you started to turn away, probably to sit or wander or do something small and domestic, Rafe’s hand tightened just a fraction at your waist, “Hey,” he said, “Come here” and you stopped.

He guided you back in front of him, hands settling on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow absent circles into the fabric on your dress. He took a moment before speaking, choosing his words as carefully as he could, “Did anything weird happen yesterday?" he asked.

You blinked up at him, “Weird?” 

“At the cafe,” he clarified, watching your face closely. You thought about it, brows knitting together just a little, the way they always did when you were genuinely trying. 

“Oh!” you said, brightening, “Topper stopped by!’ 

That same dark feeling began stirring in Rafe's chest again, but his face stayed calm., “Yeah?” he asked evenly, “What did he want?” 

“He just talked to me” you shrugged “He said he liked my dress” you smiled, but Rafe’s jaw tightened trying to keep a collected expression on for you, “What else?”

You tilted your head again, confused now, “Nothing? He was just… nice” 

Nice.

Rafe exhaled slowly, “He touch you at all?” he asked quietly, almost not wanting the answer. Your eyes widened immediately, “No! I mean-” you hesitated, searching your memory, “He brushed my hair, but I think it was an accident”

Rafe’s hands slid from your hips to your sides, firm but gentle, anchoring you, “Listen to me” he said, lowering his voice, “That wasn’t nothing”

You frowned, feeling guilty and unsettled, “Rafe…” and he softened quickly, “Hey,” he murmured, leaning down until his forehead was resting against yours, “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” he felt your shoulders relax as the words left his mouth, “But you don’t see what people are doing sometimes” he continued gently.

He slightly pushed away so he could look in your innocent eyes, “You take things at face value. And that’s not your fault” 

You swallowed, “I thought he was just being friendly..” you trailed off, getting mad at yourself for not noticing, again.

“I know you did, baby” he said immediately, lightly sighing, “That’s the issue” 

Your brows pulled together, “What do you mean?” you asked, and Rafe straightened slightly, still holding you close, “Guys, especially guys like my friends, don't just.. Talk” he said carefully, “They watch. They test. They see what they can get away with” 

Your lips parted, uncertain, “But Topper wouldn’t-” but Rafe shook his head, “You don’t know that”

You looked down then, finger twisting loosely in his shirt, racking your brain to try and remember when Topper would have been ‘testing’ you, “I don’t want you talking to my friends without me there” his voice cut through your memories firm but calm, “Or any guys. Not alone”

You lifted your head looking at him, “That feels… kinda strict”

The words hit him harder than he expected and he softened immediately, hands sliding up your back, pulling you fully into his chest and breathing in the scent on your hair. Vanilla, of course. 

“I’m not trying to control you” he said quietly, voice low and steady, “I’m trying to protect you” 

You pressed your cheek to his chest, hugging him back, conflicted but comforted by his words, “They don’t look at you the way I do” he continued, “They don’t care if they confuse you or cross lines. I do”

You were quiet, listening to what he was saying, and how steady his heart was beating. 

“I just don’t want anyone taking advantage of you,” he finished, “Thats my job” 

You smiled a bit at that, fingers curled into his shirt, “..Okay” you reply softly. The relief that flooded his chest was immediate and overwhelming. Rafe closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of your head, holding you like something precious, something fragile. 

Something that belonged with him.

As you relaxed against him, trusting and unaware, Topper's words finally quieted, because Rafe was certain now. Certain that as long as you listened to him, he would make sure nothing bad happened. No matter what… or who.

[littlebunnygold]

Times Like These (Rafe Cameron x bimbo!reader)

Clumsy

summary: Rafe takes you to a nice restaurant for your first date and learns more about you than he anticipated, providing feelings he didn't know were there.

warnings: some swearing, dumb reader

word count: 2.2k

a/n: anothaaa bimbo!reader this one is new and I legit wrote it in like three hours but I'm just so bored I have nothing else to do but live through her love her love this vibe love Addison Rae thank you xoxo bunny

my masterlist

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Rafe: Downstairs. Black truck. 

You smiled at your phone like it had said something sweet.

Y/N: Coming! 

You typed back, tossing lip gloss into your purse and checking your reflection one last time. You didn’t look nervous, but your stomach fluttered anyway. First dates always did that to you. The hope. The possibility. The way someone new could look at you like you were something worth keeping.

You slipped on your heels and headed downstairs, practically floating.

Rafe was leaning against his truck when you pushed open the front door, cigarette between his fingers, eyes already on you like he’d been waiting longer than he let on. He looked… unfair. Dark shirt, chain at his neck, jaw tight like he was already irritated by something you hadn’t done yet.

“Hey,” you said brightly.

He pushed off the truck and opened the passenger door for you without a word. You climbed in, knees brushing his hand for half a second, and he shut the door a little harder than necessary.

“You look good,” he said once he was behind the wheel, pulling away from the curb.

Your face warmed instantly. “Thanks. You do too.”

He smirked, like that had been expected.

The drive was quiet but not uncomfortable. You talked. He listened, or at least pretended to, nodding occasionally, glancing over at you with that unreadable look. You told him about Jenna, about the restaurant you were going to, about how you’d never been there before but heard it was really nice.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

The restaurant glowed warm and expensive when you pulled up. Soft lighting, low music, valet out front. You straightened in your seat, suddenly aware of your dress.

“You sure my dress is okay?” you asked, the third time since you’d gotten in the truck.

Rafe looked you over, slow. “More than okay.”

Your heart did that stupid little flip again.

Inside, the host told you there’d be a short wait. Rafe sighed, annoyed immediately.

“I’m gonna grab a smoke,” he said. “You good here?” he asked, eyes squinting at you like he already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” you said easily. “Take your time.”

He hesitated, “Just.. don’t move, alright?” he clarified once more before turning and walking back outside.

You stood near the bar, scrolling on your phone, completely unaware of the eyes on you until a voice cut in.

“Hey there.”

You looked up to see a man leaning against the bar beside you. Older. Confident in that lazy way. His gaze dipped openly before coming back to your face, not that you noticed, “You waiting on someone?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded and smiled. “He’s just outside-”

“Oh,” he said, interrupting like it didn’t matter, “Lucky guy.”

You laughed softly. “I guess.”

He stepped closer, invading your space just a little. “You come here a lot?”

“No, actually, it’s my first time! It’s beautiful inside though!”

“Well,” he said grinning, eyes dragging again, “I’m sure you have something to do with that.”

You smiled brightly at the man, still not really understanding why he was here just complimenting you a bunch but appreciating his confidence, he was being nice afterall. 

“Thank you,” you said finally. “I didn’t know if my dress would be fancy enough, but I think it looks fine” you patted your dress down a bit as you spoke, unknowingly drawing his attention to how short it was. 

He grinned, encouraged. “You got a real sweet voice.”

“Oh,” you said again, smiling because smiling was easier than thinking.

That was when Rafe came back in.

He stopped dead the second he saw you- saw the man too close, saw the way the guy’s body angled toward you like you were something on display.

Rafe’s jaw tightened.

The man didn’t notice him at first. “You sure that date is coming, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, pretty sure,” Rafe said coldly, stepping in beside you.

You turned, surprised. “Oh — hey.”

Rafe’s hand slid to your lower back, firm. Possessive. The man finally looked up at him, sizing him up.

“Didn’t know she was taken,” he said, tone not apologetic in the slightest.

“Yeah,” Rafe drawled out, like he didn’t believe him, “Well now you do, so get lost”

The man scoffed lightly but stepped away. “No harm meant.”

Rafe stared him down until he disappeared into the crowd.

You looked up at Rafe, confused more than anything, “He was just being nice.”

Rafe looked at you like he didn’t know whether to laugh or lose his mind.

“Nice,” he repeated flatly.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think he was just bored.”

Rafe exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes scanning your face like he was checking for cracks. “You think that guy was talking to you like that to be… nice?”

You frowned, not liking his tone, “Like what?”

He stared at you for a long moment, face scrunching up before quickly letting it fall, then shook his head, “Never mind.”

The host called your name, and Rafe guided you toward the table, hand still at your back like he didn’t trust you not to drift away.

Once seated, Rafe barely touched the menu. You talked- about the beach, about Jenna again, about how good the bread smelled. He watched you instead.

Watched how you smiled at the waiter when being brought over more bread, even though the basket was still full. He watched how you laughed when the man sitting behind you bumped into your chair, resting his hand on your shoulder as he ‘apologized’.

It was driving him crazy, how… oblivious you were.

“You okay?” you asked finally, noticing his silence.

“Fine,” he said.

The waiter returned with drinks. Rafe ordered for himself, but you hesitated, “I’ll… just have whatever’s sweet,” you said cheerfully.

The waiter smiled a little too long, gaze dipping lower to your low cut dress before meeting your eyes again, and of course Rafe was the only one to notice, “I think I can manage that.”

Rafe noticed his fingers curling around his glass.

As the night went on, it kept happening, comments that slid just past polite, looks that lingered, people talking to you like you weren’t really there.

And every time, you responded the same way- with kindness, with gratitude, with no awareness that anything was wrong.

“They mean well,” you whispered at one point when Rafe muttered something under his breath.

“They don’t,” he said.

You shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Rafe watched you nod along to a conversation you didn’t fully follow. Watched you agree to things just to keep the peace. Watched you apologize when someone else spilled their drink.

You weren’t stupid, you were… unchecked. Unguarded. Open in a way the world didn’t deserve, and it made something dark and hot coil in his chest.

By the time dessert came, Rafe’s knee was pressed firmly against yours under the table. His hand rested there too now, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin.

“You tired?” he asked.

“A little,” you admitted. “But in a good way.”

He nodded. “Lets go,” and you only nodded back in response.

Outside, the night air felt cool against your skin. Rafe kept his arm on your waist all the way over to his truck, helping you up once again. 

The doors shut with a solid thunk, sealing you both inside the truck. For a second, neither of you moved. The engine was still running, the dash lights glowing softly, the world outside muffled and distant, but Rafe stared straight ahead.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked finally, voice small but honest.

That made him look at you, “What?” he scoffed.

“You’ve been… quiet,” you added. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you or anything.”

Rafe let out a short, humorless laugh and shook his head. “You think you embarrassed me?”

You shrugged, helpless. “I don’t know. Maybe I talked too much.”

He turned toward you fully now, elbow resting on the console, eyes dragging over your face like he was seeing it clearly for the first time, “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said slowly. “That’s the problem.”

 That made you frown, “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” he muttered, looking out the windshield, thinking about how to word what he wants to say, before looking back at you.

He reached up and rubbed at his jaw, thumb pressing into the muscle there like he was holding something back. Then he looked at you again- really looked.

“You really think those guys were just being nice,” he said.

You nodded immediately, “Yeah, why wouldn’t they be?”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, sharp, “Jesus,” running a hand over his head like he was getting more stressed out the more you spoke.

“What?” you asked, a little defensive now, “They didn’t say anything mean.”

“They didn’t have to,” he snapped- then caught himself, softened his tone just slightly, “Just because they’re being nice with their words, doesn't mean they’re nice with their intentions. Understand?” he asked, eyes widening slightly.

You hugged your purse closer to your side. “Yeah.. I understand” you replied, shrinking in on yourself a little bit while Rafe sighed and collected himself.

“I don’t know what else their intentions would be but-”

“I know you don’t,” he said, his voice interrupted, low and annoyed that he was still having to explain this to you, “That’s what scares me.”

Your brows knit together. “Scares you?”

Rafe leaned closer, forearm braced against the steering wheel, voice quiet and controlled but tight with something ugly underneath, “You don’t see it,” he said, “Y- you don’t register even when someone’s looking at you like they can take whatever they want.” his eyes ran over you, hungry but intrigued, and you couldn’t help but think if he was talking about himself.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “I just… assume people are good.”

Rafe went still.

He’d seen girls like you before- pretty, soft, floating through rooms like nothing could touch them but they were always pretending. You weren’t. You actually believed it. Nobody had popped your bubble yet. 

“You walk around like that,” he said quietly, “and you think everyone’s being genuine”

You smiled a little, like you were embarrassed by it, “Is that stupid?”

His jaw tightened again, “No,” he said. “It’s dangerous.”

You looked down at your lap, “I don’t know… I guess I don't like thinking badly about people.”

He scoffed and shook his head, “Well fuck, then I’ll do it for you,” he said immediately and your head snapped up. “What?”

Rafe’s eyes locked onto yours. There was no teasing in them now. No smirk. Just something intense and possessive and very sure of itself, “You’re not going out alone anymore,” he said.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, voice steady, “you don’t wander into bars, or restaurants, or beaches or stores by yourself. Not with guys talking to you like that.”

“But-”

“And if you do,” he cut in, “I’m with you.”

Your heart started to race, but not in a scared way. In that familiar, dizzy way- like being chosen, “You don’t have to do that,” you said softly.

“I do,” he replied. “Because you won’t.”

Silence filled the truck again, thick and heavy.

“You don’t even notice when people cross lines,” he went on, “You laugh. You smile. You thank them. You think it’s normal.”

You shrugged. “I don’t want to be rude.”

Rafe reached out then, fingers curling gently but firmly around your wrist, grounding you, “That’s not kindness,” he said, “That’s you letting people touch what isn’t theirs.”

Your breath caught.

Rafe realized, in that moment, that he hated the idea of anyone else getting access to you- your attention, your softness, the way you gave without thinking, when they hadn’t earned it.

He wanted it all for himself.

“You’re gonna stay close to me,” he said. “Understand?”

You nodded automatically. “Okay.”

His thumb brushed over your pulse, slow. “And when men talk to you like that-”

“I tell them I’m with you?” you offered, and a corner of his mouth lifted, dark and satisfied. “Exactly.”

He released your wrist but didn’t pull away completely, his hand lingering like he might reach for you again at any second.

“You’re too fucking sweet for your own good,” he muttered.

Rafe’s hand came back to you before you could respond, fingers sliding into your hair at the nape of your neck. Not rough, just firm enough to make it clear he wasn’t asking.

You inhaled sharply, eyes flicking to his mouth.

“Rafe-” you started, but the sound barely made it out.

He leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. Not rushed either. It was slow and deliberate, like he was proving something- to you, and to himself. His mouth moved against yours with quiet authority, thumb pressing lightly into your jaw, keeping you right where he wanted you. You melted instantly, lips parting without hesitation, because of course you did. You always did when someone chose you like this.

Rafe felt it- felt how easily you gave in, and something dark and satisfied settled low in his chest. He invaded you space, hovering his body over yours as his tongue explored your mouth with ease.

You moaned into his mouth and gripped his neck, like it was the only thing grounding you, until he moved his lips to your neck, roughly kissing and biting and you squirmed under him.

He loved how undone you became for him.

As he continued kissing your neck, up your jaw and the corners of your mouth, he hand was slowly making it way up your dress, his fingers creeping towards your laced panties.

His fingers brushed over you gently, making you gasp and his eyes looked at you like a man starved, and he knew he never wanted another man to know what you sounded like so... vulnerable,

“That,” he said, “is mine.” he mumbled as he pulled away, cupping your face with one hand as he settled back in his seat, and you could see his boner through his suit pants.

You smiled.

Your heart was pounding and you nodded, dazed, smiling softly as his words were finally making some sense, “Okay,” you whispered.

Rafe’s mouth curved into something dangerous, something hungry and protective twisting in his chest. 

You didn’t argue.

You never did.

And as Rafe pulled the truck back onto the road, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting possessively on your thigh, he already knew:

From now on, you were his responsibility.

[littlebunnygold]

Clumsy (Rafe Cameron x bimbo!reader)

summary: after getting dumped again, you go to the beach with your friend to try and cheer up, not expecting to meet someone so happy to see you upset.

warnings: idk nothing? maybe swearing and like condescending vibes towards reader but that's the point.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: okay I loveeeeee bimbo!reader with rafe so I think I'm gonna make this a little recurring vibe but we'll see I just love the thought of a little innocent airhead getting caught up with rafe and his manipulation like pleaseeeeee also was bumping Clumsy by Fergie and that's def the inspo because she is me thank youuu loves you xoxo bunny

my masterlist

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“You know, this ain’t the first time this has happened to me.. This love sick thing. I like serious relationships and uh, a girl like me don’t stay single for long. Because everytime a boyfriend and I break up, and my world is crushed and I’m all alone.. The love bug crawls right back up and BITES me, and I’m back!”

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You didn’t think you asked for much. Love, attention, someone who wanted you the way you wanted them, to put you on the pedestal you had always put other people on. Someone who didn’t get bored when the novelty wore off, once they realized you talked a whole lot about nothing, always forgot what day it was, or cried over commercials. Someone who looked at you like you were more than what people whispered when you walked by

Because they did whisper. 

Most people just thought you floated through life, and in a way you did, always nodding your head and smiling, a tendency to agree with people even though you didn't always fully understand what they were saying. You had heard it all before- airhead, dumb blonde, relationship hopper. People always joked you wouldn’t be able to stand up straight if you didn’t have a boyfriend to hold your purse. 

But you never saw it that way, you just wanted to be loved. 

You liked the comfort labels allowed. You loved being someone's girlfriend, loved being taken, needing to be chosen to scratch that itch of loneliness nothing else could reach. 

Maybe that desperation is how you ended up on the beach with your best friend, freshly dumped… again. 

“He said he wasn’t ready for something serious” you sighed, letting your hair fall out of the clip it was in and pushing your sunglasses back, sitting up from the towel you've been baking on for 45 minutes now. 

Jenna didn’t even look surprised, “Well you only knew him, what, two months?”

“I know” you said softly, ​​ “I just thought this one would work out” you continued, pouting. 

She sighed and turned over on her stomach, looking at you slightly as you looked at the water ahead, “Don’t beat yourself up y/n, I’m sure you’ll have a new man by next week” she giggled, not taking this as seriously as you were due to this being such a recurring sequence of events. 

You laughed, “No, I won't. I’m serious Jenna, this time is different. I’m really hurt!” you said to the girl, a small smile on your face at her antics but you were still upset. 

She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to, she knew you better than you knew yourself. You were only as upset as the attention you didn’t receive. 

After a while, you got too hot. The sun was brutal, and you could feel yourself getting all sticky and uncomfortable, so you stood up, “I’m going to the water.” 

“Don’t drown,” Jenna replied lazily.

You started walking toward the ocean, not really paying attention to anything. Just thinking about how unfair breakups are, how people just decide one day they don’t want you anymore. You were staring at the sand, at your feet, at the way the waves kept pulling back.

And then- 

WHAM.

Something smacked you right in the side of the head, hard enough to make you stumble forward, completely off balance, and fall down hard onto the sand. Everything felt loud and dizzy for a second.

“Oh shit—oh my god—are you okay?”

You looked up, blinking, and saw a guy jogging toward you from a volleyball net. He looked stressed, hands running over his buzzed head like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “You just walked right through- here, let me help you” he reached down and pulled you up before you could even answer, eyes scanning over your head and body looking for any injuries. You felt your cheeks get warm. 

“I wasn’t watching,” you admitted, brushing sand off you legs. “I’m fine. I think.”

He tilted his head, studying you like he was checking for damage. “You sure? That hit you pretty hard.”

“I mean… I’ve been hit harder,” you said, then immediately realized that didn’t make sense, “I mean- not like, by people. I mean-”

He smiled. A slow, crooked smile.

“Careful,” he said. “You always this clumsy?”

You laughed, embarrassed. “Sometimes… that’s what people always tell me anyways”

“Yeah,” he said, like he already knew. “I can tell.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that, but the way he was looking at you made your stomach flip, so you didn’t question it.

“I’m Rafe,” he said, “By the way. And that was my fault. I shouldn’t have spiked it that hard.”

“It’s okay,” you said quickly. “It was kind of my fault too. I wasn’t paying attention at all.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s… obvious.”

“I’m Y/n” you said, looking up at him, not really piecing together what he had said but thinking his smile was going to put you in a trance. 

“Oh, I know who you are Y/n”

You smiled at him, the way he said your name made you bite your lip. He was so cute and his eyes were so icy and intense, and he stood so close to you it was hard to gather your thoughts. 

“You’re really pretty,” he said suddenly, like it just occurred to him.

“Oh,” you said. “Thank you.”

He looked amused by your reaction. “You say that like you don’t hear it all the time.”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “people are nice.”

“Mm,” he said. “I’m sure people are very nice to you.” running a hand over his jaw.

There was something in his tone- like he didn’t fully believe anything you said, but it didn’t bother you. It made him seem confident. Like he knew things.

“So,” he said, glancing back at the volleyball court, then back at you, “you here alone?”

“Oh, no, I’m with my friend,” you said, pointing back to your towels. “I just got dumped, so she brought me here to cheer me up.”

“Oh,” he said, not one ounce of sympathy in his voice and you swear you saw his eyes widen a little bit, “Recently?”

“Yeah like… a few days ago.”

He nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth curling into a slight smirk “That explains a lot.”

“Explains what?”

He smiled bigger, “Nothing” and you laughed, even though you didn’t really get it.

“Well,” he said, “I feel like I owe you something for nearly knocking you out.”

“You didn’t knock me out,” you said.

“Still,” he replied, “Let me take you out sometime. Make it up to you.”

Your heart did that thing it always does. The flutter. The hope. The butterflies.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said easily. “Give me your number” and you didn’t hesitate, typing it into his phone while he watched, his mouth tilted up like he already knew you would.

“I’ll text you,” he said. “Don’t wander into traffic between now and then, okay?”

You giggled. “I’ll try.”

He walked back toward the volleyball game, and you stood there for a second, smiling to yourself. When you got back to your towel, Jenna sat up immediately.

“What happened?”

“I met someone,” you said.

She stared at you, mouth opening in a shocked but amused look “Already?”

“He’s super hot,” you added. “And he asked me out!”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You are unbelievable.”

You laid back, staring at the sky, feeling that familiar rush settle in your chest.

You were wanted again.

But you didn’t expect this love bug to bite so fucking hard!

[littlebunnygold]

august on film💆🏼‍♀️

I WISH

[littlebunnygold]

Friends (Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader)

summary: You’ve been Rafe’s secret for months now, but it all comes to a boiling point when he shows you he might really care. 

warnings: swearings, talks of sex, drinking, some dumbification 

word count: 4.2k

a/n: okay I kinda love this even though I feel like I lost the plot half way through lmao enjoy another draft I'm still bed bound with this cast on so ill try and pump out some more!! loves ya xoxo bunny

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You stood in the kitchen of the Cameron’s house, pouring shots for you and Sarah, “Okay, ready?” you asked her as she grinned at you, “1..2..3!” she said, the two of you pouring the burning liquid down your throats, loving the feeling as it went down. You were definitely drunk. You put the glass down and giggled, “Is it bad that I don’t really taste it?” you asked the girl and laughed harder, “Wait, you're telling me that wasn’t water?” she laughed out.

This was possibly the biggest party you’ve ever been to, which is saying a lot for OBX. Sarah’s parents were gone for the weekend and practically everybody you’ve ever met was here. Even the Pogues, as per Sarah’s request. Ever since her and John B fell in love, they’ve been showing up to Figure Eight parties more often. Not that it really bothered you, you liked all of them, they were super nice to you, you were a Pogue after all… just maybe not by their standards.

Honestly, they found it pretty entertaining when they found out John B’s new boo already had connections to the Cut through the Pogue girl next door. You had lived up the road from John B for as long as you could remember, and in turn you had come to know the group as well as any neighbor could. 

But what kept them at a distance was your draw to Kooks of all people. 

You had always felt like their way of living, the cars, the pools, the yachts, was always more your type of bea than fishing and bonfires, and as a result you tended to surround yourself with the handful of Kook’s who didn’t care about your true social status. 

Queue Sarah Cameron. 

You had first met her freshman year, she joined you in playing beer pong and the two of you cleared every team that challenged you, drinking and laughing together all night.

You both ended up puking in her bathroom that night, but it bonded you and you’ve been inseparable best friends from opposite sides of the pond ever since. 

Sarah made all of your dreams of being accepted in Kook life come true, she brought you to every party, every event, basically forced your presence on her friends and family until they had no other option but to love you. And they did. Except her older brother. 

He couldn't understand how his little sister had gotten so close to the enemy... or how that enemy had gotten so close to him.

Rafe had always been skeptical of you, actively avoiding you when he’d see you around the house, or out with Sarah and Topper. He never smiled back at you when you awkwardly made eye contact, you would watch his eyes roll when you sat next to him, and you slept over at Tannyhill so often he thought you were trying to steal their goods and pawn them off, never said hello when he opened the front door to see you waiting, just got out of the way so you could come inside. 

You were convinced he hated you.

Until three months ago. 

After about a million slumber parties at Sarah’s, you were accustomed to her kitchen, so when you came downstairs to fill up your water bottle in the late hours of the night, you weren’t expecting a figure to be behind you when you backed up,

“Rafe, you scared me!” you whispered, putting your hand above your heart and catching your breath, “I didn’t even hear you come downstairs” you continued, your eyes adjusting to his dark shadowy figure standing an arms length away. 

He looked you up and down, taking in the sight of you in your pajamas, little bunny slippers on, hair in a braid, so effortlessly beautiful, but also teasing. He took a breath before speaking, “I just got home,” he replied, his voice deep and quiet, taking a small step forward and reaching for your water bottle, “You mind?” he asked, looking down at you. 

You shook your head, released your grip and watched him take a few chugs, his face shined from the moonlight and you could see his biceps flex, some sweat ran down his forehead and judging by the smell of his clothes, you could tell he had probably been at Barry’s.

But that didn’t change how intoxicating it was to watch him. 

Once he finished, he handed the bottle back to you and you felt his fingers touch yours. This was the longest you and Rafe had ever been near each other, and the tension you felt was indescribable. 

“Thanks” he muttered and wiped his mouth, taking a look around the kitchen but not abandoning his spot in front of you. You kept your gaze on him, you could feel the heat radiating off his body and it was making your stomach flip. 

“You always up this late?” he asked, eyes flicking over to your hair, then your shoulder, slow and intentional. You shrugged and tried not to fidget under his stare, “No matter how many times I stay here, I still can’t get used to the quiet” you replied. The corner of his mouth twitched up, “Yeah, quiet’s one word for it”

Silence stretched between you two, and you became very aware of how close he was to you, how his arm brushed yours every time he breathed, “So…” you said, forcing a hushed tone, “You usually scare girls in the middle of the night or am I special?” 

Your cheeks turn pink when he lets out a huffed laugh, shaking his head, “You don’t scare easy” he said, “I’ve noticed.”

You tilted your head, “You’ve noticed me?” which made his jaw tighten, like he hadn’t meant to let that slip, “I notice things” his tone was flat, but his eyes betrayed him, dark and focused, like you were the only person in the room. You swallowed before speaking. 

“Could have fooled me” and just as you got the words out, he took a small step closer, just one step, but close enough you could smell the salt on his skin, a smell very familiar. 

“You think I hate you” he said quietly, not a question but more a statement, like it’s exactly what he expected. You looked up, heart hammering, to meet his gaze, finding his eyes on yours, “Don’t you?” 

For a moment, he looked conflicted. Then his eyes dropped to the string of your pajama shorts, fingers lifting without asking, twirling it once around his knuckle, “These are cute” he muttered, and your breath caught in your throat, “Rafe…” you whispered out, feeling as though the two of you were on your own planet, not in his families kitchen. 

He inched closer to you, hands roaming around your back and down your ass before his chest was flush with yours and he was looking down at you, but the look in his face was unreadable. Like he had been avoiding you for this very reason…

Before you could think about it any deeper, he pulled you in for a kiss, hard and sudden, like he had been holding it back for months. You gasped into his mouth, surprised at his action, and slowly fell into rhythm with his movements. Your finger curled into his shirt and he began backing you into the counter, your hips locked together and light moans escaping your mouth. 

Your back hit the counter softly, the cool counters a stark contrast from the heat between your bodies. Your lips colliding is the only sound in the room and it's completely drowned out by your thoughts. How did you get here? Why was Rafe kissing you? And why did it feel like he should have been kissing you for a long time?

He scooped you up to sit on the counter top, standing between your spread legs and kissing down your neck, giving small bites here and there while pawing at your body through your clothes. Your nails gripped his hair and neck and he let out a groan into your mouth before he reached his hand up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing just between your lips as if he was grounding himself- or stopping himself from going any further. He pulled back just enough to breathe.

“This can’t be more than this,” he said, voice low, almost rough. You blinked, still catching your breath. “More than… kissing me in your parents’ kitchen?” you asked and he clenched his jaw, “You know what I mean.”

You swallowed. “I don’t.”

He looked away, like meeting your eyes would make him lose whatever control he had left. “You’re Sarah’s best friend,” he said. “You’re a Pogue. And I—” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t deal with that.” Your chest tightened. “But you can deal with touching me?” your voice came out quieter than you intended and his eyes snapped back to yours. “That’s the problem.”

The words hung heavy between you.

“I don’t hate you,” he said finally, quieter now. “I hate that I don’t hate you.”

Something in your expression must’ve shifted, because his hand slid back to your hip, grip firm but unsure. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he added. “But I’m not gonna pretend this can be something it’s not.” he said with such a matter of fact. You searched his face, trying to find where the line was- where Rafe Cameron ended and the boy in front of you began, “So what is it, then?” you asked softly.

His thumb pressed into your skin, like he needed the reminder you were real. “This,” he said. “When it happens. No expectations. No names.”

“And when it doesn’t?” you asked.

He hesitated. Just for a second.

“Then we act like nothing’s changed.”

You felt a pang of sadness and excitement hit you. The fact that Rafe wanted you was exhilarating, but the thought of being his secret... you couldn’t quite place the feeling. 

 “Okay,” you whispered, even though your stomach twisted saying it. His shoulders loosened, like he’d been bracing for a fight. He leaned in again, forehead resting against yours. “You’re gonna make this really hard for me,” he murmured and you let out a breathless laugh. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

He kissed you once more—slower this time, like he was trying to memorize it—before pulling away for good.

“Go back upstairs,” he said gently. “Before I change my mind.”

You grabbed your water bottle with shaking hands and slipped past him, heart pounding, head spinning. As you disappeared up the stairs, Rafe stayed in the kitchen, staring at the spot where you’d been—knowing damn well this was only the beginning. 

And that’s all you’ve been allowed. Stolen glances at dinner, the odd ass grab at parties, and long, hot nights moaning his name that make you forget just how embarrassing it really is. 

You’re in a friend's with benefits relationship with your best friend's brother who doesn’t even really care to be friends… but how can he be so cold after you’ve shared such vulnerable moments together? The question had been burning in your throat for weeks, and when you finally asked him, his answer wasn’t exactly what you imagined,

“That’s a stupid question, do you date everyone you screw?” he scoffed as he zipped his pants back up, tossing your panties and shirt over to where you’re laying on his mattress. 

The words hit harder than you expected, sharp and careless, like he hadn’t just had you wrapped around him minutes ago. You sat up slowly, pulling the sheet tighter around your chest as you watched him turn away from you, already reaching for his hoodie like this was nothing more than routine. Like you weren’t still trying to steady your breathing, trying to decide whether you were allowed to feel embarrassed or angry or just tired.

“I didn’t say that,” you replied quietly, fingers curling around the fabric in your lap. “I just asked if you cared.”

That made him pause.

Only for a second, but you noticed it-  the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his jaw tightened before he finally turned back to look at you. His expression wasn’t smug anymore, wasn’t dismissive. It was conflicted, almost irritated, like the question itself pissed him off more than your tone ever could.

“Why are you doing this right now?” he asked, running a hand over his shaved head, “You know what this is.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I do. That’s kind of the problem.”

He let out a breath through his nose, pacing once across the room before stopping near the foot of the bed. “I don’t date,” he said, like he’d said it a hundred times before. “You knew that.”

“I also know you pretend I don’t exist in public,” you shot back before you could stop yourself. “At least, when everyone else is around.”

He looked at you then — really looked at you — eyes dark, unreadable, something heavy sitting behind them. “It’s not like that,” he said. “You know it’s not.”

“Then what is it like?” you asked. “Because I don’t know if I can do the silent treatment in public anymore.. not when you’re saying my name in private”

His mouth opened, then closed again, “You’re Sarah’s best friend,” he said finally. “And you’re a Pogue. And people already look for reasons to talk about me.”

“So you’re embarrassed,” you said, the word bitter on your tongue.

“No,” he snapped, a little too fast. “I’m not embarrassed of you.”

“Then say my name,” you challenged softly. “Out there. Just once.”

Silence filled the room, thick and uncomfortable.

He stepped closer to the bed, hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to touch you and didn’t trust himself to. “You think this is easy for me?” he asked, voice lower now. “You think I don’t care? Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here every night.” he gestured to his room, the four walls where he kept you hidden. 

“That’s the thing,” you said, meeting his eyes. “You are here. Just never anywhere else.”

Something in his expression cracked then- not enough to break, but enough to show you the truth underneath. He reached out, brushing his thumb along your knee, a small, grounding touch that felt too intimate for something he insisted meant nothing.

“I’m not gonna screw this up,” he said quietly. “For you. For Sarah. For me.”

You swallowed. “By pretending I don’t matter?”

He shook his head. “By not letting this become something I can’t control.”

The way he said it, like you were something... made your chest ache.

You didn’t answer. You just stood, pulling your clothes on slowly, deliberately, forcing yourself not to look back at him too much. He watched you the whole time, eyes following every movement like he was memorizing you again, like he always did before letting you leave.

At the door, you paused.

“For what it’s worth,” you said, hand on the knob, “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t already know the answer.”

He didn’t respond. Not with words.

But as you stepped into the hallway, you felt his hand catch your wrist for just a second-  not to stop you, just enough to remind you he was there.

“Be careful getting home,” he muttered.

Tonight was going to be different.

You told yourself that all week- that tonight you’d drink too much, laugh too loud, and stop waiting for Rafe to look at you like you mattered. You were done letting him own you only in the dark, done pretending that the way he ignored you in public didn’t crawl under your skin and stay there long after the sun came up. So you promised yourself that tonight, you’d forget him. You’d have fun with Sarah, dance until your legs hurt, maybe even let someone touch you who wasn’t him.

And for a while, it worked.

You’d already had more to drink than you should’ve, bottle swinging in your hand as the music thumped through Tannyhill, bass rattling the floors and walls. The house was packed-  Kooks spilling out of every room, lights dimmed low and blue, laughter and shouting blurring together until it felt like you were floating through it all instead of really being there. You danced with Sarah and Kie in the middle of it, arms thrown around each other, singing lyrics you barely knew, laughing until your cheeks hurt.

Eventually, they drifted away, Kie complaining about her feet, Sarah disappearing to find John B, and you were left alone in the middle of the crowd, breathless and buzzing, suddenly aware of the empty space beside you.

You went for another drink.

The kitchen was just as packed, bodies brushing past you as you opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, the cold metal grounding you for a second. That was when you heard his voice — not loud, not calling for you, just there — and your stomach dropped before you even saw him.

Rafe was across the room, leaning against the counter with Topper and a few others, red cup in his hand, jaw tight as he laughed at something that clearly wasn’t funny. He looked the same as always- too confident, too put together, and it pissed you off how easily he fit into every room while you still felt like you were trespassing.

You looked away.You knew better than to stare. Three months of secret nights had taught you that much. He didn’t touch you in public. Didn’t talk to you unless he had to. Didn’t even acknowledge you most of the time,  like whatever existed between you only came alive after midnight.

You didn’t even notice him approach until he was right there, close enough that you could feel the heat of him at your back, “Planning on blacking out, or is this just for fun?” he asked quietly.

You turned, already annoyed that he’d found you. “What, now you care?” you said, tipping the beer back anyway.

His eyes flicked to your face, lingering a second too long. “I care that you don’t end up puking on my parents’ floor.”

You laughed, humorless. “Relax. I’ll aim for the lawn.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The noise of the party faded just enough for the tension to slip in — thick, familiar, suffocating. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then quickly away, like he hated himself for it.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.

You scoffed. “That’s rich.”

“I’m serious,” he pressed, stepping closer, voice low. “What’s your problem?”

You looked up at him then, really looked at him, and felt that familiar ache in your chest. “You don’t get to ask me that,” you said. “Not when you only remember I exist when no one’s watching.”

His jaw clenched. “This isn’t the place.”

“Funny,” you replied, grabbing another drink, “because this is the only place you ever forget about me completely.”

You didn’t wait around for his response. You left the kitchen and went back into the crowd, letting the music swallow you whole. You danced harder this time, recklessly, body loose with alcohol and frustration, until someone unfamiliar slid in behind you — hands settling at your hips, tentative at first.

You didn’t pull away.

The guy introduced himself, some tourist, some name you’d forget, and you let him press closer, let his hands wander, let yourself laugh and move like this was all you wanted. It felt good to not think for once, to not measure every move against what Rafe might think.

But from across the room, Rafe saw everything.

He tried not to stare. Tried to tell himself it wasn’t his business, that he had no claim to you, that this was exactly why he kept his distance. But it didn’t matter. The sight of someone else touching you- openly, carelessly… made something ugly twist in his chest.

Topper was talking. Sarah was laughing. None of it registered.

All Rafe could see was you- your head thrown back, your hands on someone else’s shoulders, your body moving like you weren’t his at all. And that was the problem.

He didn’t want you… or he shouldn’t want you.

But watching you with someone else made it painfully clear that whatever he’d been pretending these past three months was a lie he’d told himself - and it was starting to unravel.

He didn't even remember deciding to move.

One second he was standing near the edge of the room, knuckles white around an empty cup, telling himself to look away, to let it go, to do what he always did and swallow it down until it burned itself out. And the next, he was cutting through the crowd with purpose, shoulders tense, jaw set, eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

You didn’t notice him at first.

You were laughing at something the guy behind you said, head tipped back slightly, hair brushing his cheek as his hands rested a little too comfortably at your hips. It wasn’t even that intimate, not really, but it felt unbearable anyway. The way you looked relaxed. Open. Unhidden.

Rafe reached you before he could talk himself out of it.

“Hey,” he said sharply, hand wrapping around your wrist.

You startled, turning fast, annoyance already on your face until you realized who it was. The expression shifted- surprise, confusion, something like hope you didn’t want to acknowledge before you masked it, “What?” you snapped, tugging your hand slightly. “I’m busy.”

The guy behind you hesitated, sensing the tension immediately. “You good?” he asked, glancing between the two of you.

Rafe didn’t even look at him. “Yeah,” he said flatly. “She is” his grip tightening just enough to make his point clear, and after a beat, the guy backed off, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd.

You turned back to Rafe, eyes blazing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I need to talk to you,” he said, voice low and strained.

“No,” you shot back. “You don’t. Not tonight.”

You tried to step around him, but he blocked you without thinking, the movement instinctive. “Please,” he said, and the word sounded foreign coming out of his mouth.

That stopped you.

“What?” you asked almost helplessly, “What do you want from me?”

He exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair, the mask slipping just enough to show the chaos underneath. “I can’t watch that,” he admitted, gesturing vaguely to where you’d been dancing. “I thought I could. I can’t.”

You laughed, short and disbelieving. “You don’t get to decide who touches me,” you said. “You made that pretty clear.”

“I know,” he replied. “And that’s the problem.”

The music pulsed around you, people brushing past, voices loud and careless, completely unaware that something was breaking right there in the middle of it all. Rafe stepped closer, lowering his voice even more.

“You think I don’t feel this?” he asked. “You think I don’t wake up every morning knowing exactly how bad I’m screwing this up?”

You swallowed, heart pounding. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

His eyes searched your face, desperate now, stripped of their usual arrogance. “Because if I admit what this is,” he said quietly, “I lose control. And I don’t know how to do that without losing everything else too.”

“Everything else?” you repeated. “Or your pride?”

His jaw clenched. “Those are the same thing where I come from.”

The words stung, but at least they were honest.

“I’ve spent my whole life being told what I’m supposed to want,” he continued, voice tight. “Who I’m supposed to be seen with. What makes me look weak.” He paused, swallowing hard. “And you… you don’t fit into any of it.”

You felt your chest ache. “So you hide me.”

“I protect myself,” he corrected automatically, then stopped, shaking his head. “No. I hide you.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and painful.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said softly. “I can’t be something you only love in the dark.”

His breath hitched.

“Don’t say it like that,” he murmured.

“But that’s what it is, Rafe.”

He looked at you then like he was seeing you clearly for the first time, like the weight of what he’d been risking finally outweighed the fear of being seen.

“I love you,” he said, the words rough and unpolished, like they hurt to say. “Just not in a way that’s ever been safe for me.”

Your eyes widened, emotions colliding all at once. “You don’t get to say that now.”

“I do,” he insisted, stepping even closer. “Because I can’t stomach watching someone else do it better. I can’t watch someone hold you out here like you don’t have to be hidden, when I’ve been loving you behind closed doors like it’s something to be ashamed of.”

People were starting to notice. A few glances. A few curious pauses.

Rafe noticed too.

“I’m terrified,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m more terrified of losing you.”

Before you could respond, before you could think, he cupped your face in both hands and kissed you — slow, deliberate, unmistakable. Not rushed. Not desperate. A kiss meant to be seen.

The room didn’t disappear, and that was the point.

You felt every pair of eyes that landed on you, felt the weight of what he was doing-  what he was choosing.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, “I don’t know how to do this right,” he said. “But I’m done pretending you don’t mean the world to me.”

Your heart was racing, your head spinning, the future suddenly unclear in a way it had never been before. Standing there in the middle of it all, you realized that for the first time, Rafe Cameron had chosen you over the version of himself he’d been trying so hard to protect.

[littlebunnygold]

Hypnotized (Rafe Cameron x reader)

summary: after your boyfriend breaks up with you for ‘not being able to have fun’ you go out and show him how much fun you can really have and make him eat his words

warnings: drinking, swearing, getting dumped, bad bf!rafe 

word count: 860 words 

a/n: inspired from that scene in 10 things I hate about you with my own spin! just a blurb loves youuu xoxo bunny

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Rafe broke up with you like it was an inconvenience.

“You don’t know how to have fun,” he’d said, pacing your bedroom like the answer might be hiding in the floorboards. “You don’t wanna go out, you don’t wanna party, you don’t wanna do anything. It’s like you’re already bored of life.”

You’d stared at him, stunned. “I just like quiet. I like you.”

“That’s not enough,” he replied, frustrated. “I need more.”

So you let him go.

You didn’t cry in front of him. You waited until the door closed and the house felt too big and too quiet, then curled in on yourself and wondered how liking peace had somehow turned into a flaw.

Sarah found you two days later.

“You’re coming out with me,” she said firmly. “No arguments.”

You almost said no. Almost stayed in your comfort zone. But then you remembered Rafe’s voice—you don’t know how to have fun—and something stubborn sparked in your chest. 

Fine. You’d show him.

You dressed differently than usual. Hair done. Lip gloss catching the light. Outfit that made you feel bold instead of safe. When you looked in the mirror, your heart raced—not because you felt fake, but because you felt seen.

The party was already wild when you and Sarah arrived. Music blasting, people everywhere, laughter spilling out into the yard.

Rafe was there.

He hadn’t expected to see you — not like this.

His stomach dropped the second his eyes landed on you. You were glowing. Laughing. Talking to some guy he didn’t recognize, drink in your hand, body relaxed in a way he had never seen before.

And he hated how much it bothered him.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He was the one who ended things. He was the one who wanted a girl who could “keep up.”

So why did his jaw clench every time another guy leaned closer to you? Jealously began eating away at his cool demeanour wondering if you had kissed any of them.

Why did it feel wrong watching you laugh without him? There was no way they were funnier than he was, Rafe was the only person who knew how to truly make you laugh.

Then he noticed the drinks.

One. Two. Three.

You weren’t sloppy — not yet — but Rafe knew you. Knew how little it took before it hit you hard. He hovered at the edge of the room, pretending not to stare, pretending his chest wasn’t tight.

When Hypnotize came on, the bass heavy and intoxicating, something shifted.

You laughed, climbing up onto the table like you didn’t care who was watching. The room erupted. Cheers. Phones lifted. You danced freely, recklessly, like you were proving something — to yourself more than anyone else.

Rafe stopped breathing.

That wasn’t you. And that terrified him.

A guy stepped forward, hands raised, trying to help you down — smiling like he thought he’d earned the right, like he might get lucky after.

The thought made Rafe snap. 

He was there in seconds, shoving the guy back. “Back off.”

“I was just—”

“She’s fine,” Rafe said sharply, grabbing your waist. “I’ve got her.”

You blinked at him, drunk enough to laugh. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”

The words hit harder than you meant them to.

Rafe swallowed. “You’re coming down before you fall.”

“You just don’t like that I’m having fun,” you shot back.

He lifted you down anyway, hands steady, heart racing. “I don’t like that you’re hurting yourself to prove something I never should’ve said.”

Outside, the night air cooled your flushed skin. You stumbled slightly, and Rafe caught you instantly, like it was instinct.

“I can go home by myself,” you muttered.

“No,” he said. “You can’t.”

You looked up at him, eyes glossy. “You don’t get to care now.”

“I never stopped,” he admitted quietly.

The drive was silent except for the hum of the road. You rested your head against the window, exhaustion finally pulling you under.

When you woke up, you were in your own bed.

Rafe sat on the edge, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together like he’d been praying for the right words.

“I messed up,” he said before you could speak. “I said something stupid because I thought fun had to look a certain way.”

You stayed quiet.

“I like that you don’t wanna go out,” he continued, voice rough. “I like that you’d rather stay in, watch dumb movies, fall asleep early. I like that you make things feel calm.”

He looked at you then, really looked. “I don’t want a girl who can outdrink everyone at a party. I want you. I want calm. I want quiet. I want forever nights at home with you.”

Your chest ached. “You hurt me.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if you don’t give me a chance to fix it.”

Silence stretched.

Then, softly: “I don’t need you to change. I was the one who didn’t know what I had.”

You exhaled, tears burning. “You don’t get to leave again.”

Rafe nodded immediately. “I won’t.”

And for the first time since the breakup, you believed him.

[littlebunnygold]

WOO (Rafe Cameron x reader)

summary : lowkey crazy and insecure reader making sure rafe reassures her how much he loves her

warnings: idk some sexy moments

word count: 430 words

a/n: ANOTHER DRAFT DUHHHHH lil blurb inspired from that one scene in Anna Karenina where she's on ATJ's lap talking about "how much do you love me" and lord knows I love a crazy girl so here we go. also listened to Woo by Rihanna while I was cleaning it up so those are my vibes going into this hope you like! xoxo bunny

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The blanket is still warm from the sun.

You’re sitting between his legs, half-turned, his knees bracketing your hips like they belong there. There’s food untouched beside you, a bottle tipped over in the grass, forgotten. Rafe’s arm is loose around your waist — not restraining, just ready.

You’ve been quiet too long.

You twist suddenly, crawling back into his lap like it’s instinct. Like gravity. His breath stutters, but his hands come to you automatically, settling at your thighs.

“You love me?” you ask.

Not teasing. Testing.

Rafe looks at you for a long moment. He knows this part of you — the way love makes you restless. Hungry. Dangerous.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

You don’t relax. You never do.

“But only me?” you press. “You don’t feel like this with anyone else.”

His thumb strokes up your leg, slow, grounding.

“No, baby” he says. “Just you.”

Your mouth curves, sharp and satisfied — then immediately doubtful again.

“And if I get… like this?” you ask. “If I get obsessive?.”

You shift in his lap, deliberately, feeling his breath catch beneath you. He tightens his grip, jaw flexing, eyes darkening — not annoyed. Interested.

“I like when it’s with me,” he says calmly. “I like being the one who talks you through it.”

That does something to you.

You rock once, slow, intentional. His head tips back just slightly, a low sound leaving his chest before he can stop it.

“How much do you love me?” you whisper. “More than your friends?”

Rafe’s hands slide up your hips, firm now. Claiming.

“I don’t care about anyone the way I care about you,” he says. “You know that.”

You lean in, noses brushing, breath shared.

“Prove it.”

Your hips move against him again — not fast, not frantic. Controlled. Like you’re daring him to stop you.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls you closer, grinding you against him, his voice low in your ear.

“This is me choosing you,” he murmurs. “Every time.”

You pause, hovering, staring at him like you’re memorizing the way his eyes soften for you and only you. Like you’re checking to make sure it’s real.

“This much?” you breathe.

His grip tightens, and his hips rub into yours in just the right way.

“This much.”

You smile, slow and dangerous, and begin to move again — unhurried, deliberate — the world narrowing to heat and devotion and the way Rafe never looks away.

His mouth finds your neck, your shoulder, like a promise.

Whatever this is — obsession, love, something twisted and tender —

it’s yours.

And he’s happy to give it to you.

[littlebunnygold]

Washed Up (JJ Maybank x Reader)

summary: You impulsively break up with your boyfriend JJ Maybank due to your violent drug and alcohol addiction and become friends with Rafe Cameron and Barry, but after seeing your ex at a party will you be able to stay away from each other?

word count: 4.1k

warnings: talk of depression, anxiety, mood disorders, swearing, drug and alcohol use, heartbroken and mad JJ but kinda sweet ending!

a/n: omg just depression 

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You lay in the darkness of your room, laying face down in your bed covering yourself in three separate blankets with your eyes closed but you are nowhere close to being asleep.

You check your clock on the side of your nightside table and groan as it reads 2:30pm. You haven’t been able to get yourself out of bed for four days to do anything. There is no energy in your body to get yourself to shower or brush your teeth or clean your room even though you could see it was looking messier than it had ever been.

That is the hardest part about the comedown of Molly, you can’t eat or feel happy, which is already a struggle for you in the first place.

In addition to the comedown, you’ve also been depressed for months, it’s like you can see everything around you for what it is and you're aware of what’s happening, but you just can't pull yourself out of it, and the worst part is that after a while, it almost becomes comforting.

You check your phone for the first time today, seeing missed calls and texts from all of your friends, asking where you are and if you’re safe. You haven't seen them in over a month, and you couldn’t lie it was becoming really hard to keep ignoring them, but you just can’t stand to look at them after what you had done...

One Month Ago

“I’m not arguing with you about this right now, JJ” you shouted as you grabbed your bag from the chateau, where you had been crashing for the last couple weeks to get away from your insane mother. Though it’s not like you weren’t always there anyways, if JJ was there odds are you weren't too far behind. Ever since you guys met 1 year ago, you’ve been joined at the hip. You fell in love faster with him than you ever have before. It’s a shame you fell in love with cocaine before you met him. “You can’t just push this aside Y/n, you have a problem! Let me help you!” JJ shouted back to you, watching as you packed your things into a bag, “You can’t just leave when things get hard! All you do is hangout with Rafe Cameron and Barry and its fucking exhausting, I hate seeing you with them just throwing your goddamn life away!” he yelled even louder, his anger clearly taking over him. You stayed silent, not wanting to give him a reason to yell at you even more. You finished packing your clothes and some other stuff then zipped your bag closed, “I’m gonna go home for a bit” you said in a neutral tone, “Y/n I swear to god if you leave I will never forgive you. I’ve seen what this kind of stuff can do to people first hand” he said, reaching out for you, “I’ve seen it destroy my dads life and I will NOT let it destroy yours. You barely eat, you've lost so much weight baby… we never go out anymore, you never wanna have sex... it’s like I'm not even dating the same Y/n I met a year ago”. You stood there for a second, letting JJ hold you, “What are you saying?” you asked him, pulling away a little bit so you could look him in the eyes, “It’s either me or drugs. That’s what I’m saying” he said with a certain hardness that tells you he’s dead serious. You stayed quiet for a moment, knowing every second you didn’t speak his heart was breaking a little bit more, “I’m going home” you said calmly, pulling away from him and grabbing your bag, not giving him a chance to convince you to stay, not even saying goodbye to your friends. You ran out of the chateau and right when you got to your car you started sobbing. You knew you had just fucked up everything good in your life, but you didn’t even feel like you deserved it anymore. If you were going to hurt him this much he deserved to be with somebody who would make him happier than you can.

You thought about texting them back but couldn’t get your thumbs to start typing. You didn’t want to see them, or see the disgust in their faces when they looked at you, knowing you broke their best friend's heart for little white lines.

You think about texting JJ to check in on him, you haven't seen him since you left the Chateau, and since you've been hanging with Rafe, he’s bringing you to Kook parties where JJ couldn’t be caught dead.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you hear a knock at the door.

You roll back into bed, muffling the noise from outside with your blankets that are now covering your entire body. You hear the knocking continue, hoping your Mom was home so she could answer it. Then the door bell started ringing over and over and over again, which is when you realised your Mom was most likely at work.

You contemplated just staying in bed, not having the energy to get up and walk to the door and talk to whoever was there.

A couple seconds later, the ringing gets too annoying for you to ignore so you drape one of the blankets over your body to cover yourself up a little bit more, you were wearing pyjamas after all.

You slowly make your way out of your room and towards the door, “Holy fucking shit, you know if someone doesn’t open the door it normally means they don't want to talk to you!” you raise your voice as you open the door, about to tell whoever it was to get lost, but you’re not looking up to a stranger, instead you were looking at your only friends, Rafe and Barry, who had just stopped ringing the doorbell.

They looked you up and down.

“Damn girl, you look like shit” Barry said laughing and pushing past you bee-lining for your kitchen, “Yeah no problem, come into my home uninvited” you replied to him, laughing a little bit.

You were always amazed at how comfortable Rafe and Barry could make themselves in every situation, “How you been?” Rafe asked you as he made his way into your house as well, “Definitely been better, the comedown fucking sucked” you replied to him, watching him nod in agreement.

You knew how everybody felt about seeing you hanging around Barry and Rafe, they have their reputations and a fair amount of drama with your ex-boyfriend, but you had to admit that having them around was nice.

They weren’t the worst friends in the world, and after seeing them almost everyday for the past couple months, the three of you have grown kind of close, considering the main thing you had in common with them was your addiction.

You and Rafe walked into the kitchen, finding Barry sitting at the table cutting up some lines.

You looked at them like they were your life support, quickly grabbing your already rolled 20$ bill and doing the biggest line Barry had cut.

“Okay, I see, it’s one of those days. You lucky I like you lil girl or I’d be pissed that you just did a line of my own shit” Barry said, looking up at you and half grinning.

You walked to the cupboard and grabbed three glasses, pouring vodka into all three of them and serving them to your friends before sitting down at the table with them.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” you asked them, taking a swig of your drink and liking the burn as it goes down, “Boneyards tonight, we gotta go” Rafe said, smiling before doing his second line off your kitchen table.

“Boneyard already? Jesus this summer is flying by” you said.

You finished your drink and did another line, then handed your bill to Barry so he could do the last one, “Yeah, it’s gonna be dope. Pick ya up around 9?” Rafe asked, downing his drink.

You nodded and stood up from the table, followed by Barry and Rafe, “Don’t know if I’ll be able to make it tonight guys, I got shit I gotta do” Barry said packing up his shit into his backpack, “Oh shut up you don’t have anything tonight, you’re coming” you said back to him smiling.

He looked at you and smiled, “Maybe... you know you can’t just snap your fingers and get whatever you want chica, that's not how this works” Barry said putting his backpack on, “Yes it does dude. She’s been doing it for months, she just bats those eyelashes and we do whatever she says. I think she's a witch” Rafe said laughing and playfully rubbing your shoulders.

You shrugged him off you and giggled, “Shut the fuck up! I do not do that!” you pretended to be mad while raising your voice, but couldn’t keep the smile off your face, “Oh yes great queen, we’re wrong you never do that” Barry said and jokingly began to bow down to you.

You laughed and pushed him towards the door, “See you at 9, don’t be late” you said to Rafe as he walked through your door and to his car, “You got it!” he replied.

You closed the door and went back into your room, deciding it’s time to get out of this funk.

You’re going to a real party tonight, you have to look good.

~later that night~

You heard honking outside your house, looking out the window to see Rafe’s truck parked in your driveway. You took another quick look in the mirror.

You wore a white tennis skirt with a pink cropped tank, necklaces and bracelets layered over each other, with your hair tied into a ponytail. You couldn’t help but notice how sickly thin you looked… hastily deciding to throw on a green sweater.

‘Jesus I look like a Kook’ you thought as you took one last look in the mirror.

You slipped on your favourite pair of sneakers before running out the door and into the truck, “Rafe, always so punctual” you smiled as you put your seatbelt on.

He smiled back at you and began driving towards the party, “I can’t believe Barry really didn’t come, fuck that guy” you said to Rafe in the passenger seat of his car, doing a line off the small mirror you always carried in your purse.

He laughed, “He said he had shit to do, plus who cares whenever he goes to parties he doesn’t get to relax, people are always up his ass trying to get drugs or to fight him. It’s probably better he didn't come, especially ‘cause your little boyfriend might be there, it’s better to not risk it” Rafe said back to you.

You were kind of surprised he brought JJ up like that, he normally knows not to talk about him around you because it’s a touchy subject.

“Okay first of all he's not my boyfriend, but do you think he’ll be there?” you asked him, opening a beer and quickly chugging half of it, the anxiety of having to see him and your old friends making you want to get more drunk than normal, “I mean, yeah why would he not be? It’s the end of summer party, everybody goes” Rafe said.

You went quiet.

Thoughts creeping inside your head about seeing JJ and the other Pogues.

Were they going to talk to you?

Or worse, get mad at you?

You quickly chugged the rest of your drink and did two more lines as Rafe was parking.

You both sat in the darkness of the car for a couple minutes, listening to the reggae music he had on the radio while he did his share of coke.

“Okay”, he said as he sniffled through his powdered nose, “Ready tiger?” he asked grinning.

You laughed and lightly punched him in the arm, “Yeah, whatever” you said, hopping out of the passenger side of the car.

The second your feet hit the ground you could already feel the drinks and drugs in your system.

Rafe walked around the front of the car and jokingly offered you his arm, which you took and giggled.

As the two of you walked through the crowd, you noticed eyes lingering on you, girls whispering to their friends while they stared.

You would think people would get used to seeing you and Rafe together after a couple months, but yet some still couldn’t wrap their heads around it.

The Kook King hanging around the Pogue Princess… when worlds collide, huh?

After getting a couple drinks from the keg, you and Rafe made your way over to the other Kooks, mainly Topper and Kelce, and settled into a casual conversation with them.

They discussed their boats, and what they would do at the Country Club tomorrow, and honestly, you couldn’t be more bored.

Even with the copious amount of alcohol and drugs in your system, you still couldn’t find it in you to care about what they were talking about, like it meant anything to you.

You were a Pogue afterall, and nothing made you feel more out of place than being surrounded by Kooks.

That’s when you saw him.

You didn’t even make it 10 minutes into the bonfire before you spotted the golden blonde locks you were so afraid to run into, standing across the beach with the rest of your friends, if you could even call them that anymore.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks when you got a good look at his face, his sun-kissed skin telling you he’s probably been working a lot, and his hair longer than you remembered it being.

You quickly looked away, focusing your gaze on the almost empty cup in your hand.

He looked the same, but at the same time so different.

Your heart ached for him, and you found yourself nearly tearing up at the thought of how you left things with him… but there was nothing you could do about it now.

You made your decision, and you knew the consequences, no matter how stupid you feel.

Realising you definitely need another drink, you break away from Rafe and his goons and head back over to the keg to fill up.

Your cup was about half-way full until you heard a familiar voice call your name.

“Y/n! Oh my god!” she yelled, voice getting closer. You turned around, met with beautiful brown eyes and a full head of curly hair.

She quickly pulled you into a tight hug, “Hey Kie” you strained out, due to how tight she was hugging you.

You wrapped your arms around her after a moment, not being able to remember the last time you hugged your best friend.

“We’ve all been worried sick about you, you haven’t answered any of my messages and I haven’t seen you..” she trailed off after pulling away, her eyes darting over your face.

You couldn’t help the guilty expression that fell over your face, afterall, it had been your fault.

You sighed, “Yeah, I’ve been at my place a lot, I’ve been sick-” you began but were cut off by a scoff, but not from Kiara.

You and Kie both turned to see JJ walking towards you both, Pope and John B trailing behind him.

“Sick? You’ve been sick?” he said to you, his voice harsh and taunting.

You froze at the sight of him being so close to you and he noticed, staring you right in the eyes, before his gaze travelled down your body.

You could see his expression soften slightly as he took in your appearance.

You looked different to everybody, but especially to him.

Your once hopeful and glistening eyes looked exhausted and sunk in, dark bags surrounding them.

Your skin almost translucent and so frail he thought if he touched you your turn into thin air.

But what got to him the most was your smile.

JJ had fallen in love with your smile, it was the most precious thing about you in his eyes, it could light up any room and was so contagious even after he'd had a bad run in with his father, the moment you smile at him it's as if his worries and problems just melt away.

You used to be warm and loving.. Now you looked like nothing but a shell of the old y/n.

And it made him angry.

“She hasn’t been sick” he continues after you don’t answer him, “She’s been off doing blow with dumb and dumber” he got closer to you, not breaking eye contact.

As tough as he was acting, you could see the hurt in his eyes.

Kie grabbed his arm and pulled him a step back from you, “Back off J, not here” she mumbled, but he shook his head, “No! Why not here, Kie? She’s the one who bailed on us.. on me!” he got louder, once again getting closer to you.

“I didn’t bail on you” you responded, voice weak.

“Then what would you call it, huh? You chose Rafe and Barry over us, you chose coke over me!” his voice loud enough to grab the attention of the exact Kook he was talking about.  

Your eyes started to tear up at his harsh, but true, words and your head lowered, “I’m sorry, okay, I just-” you sniffled and looked back up at your friends, at the man you loved, “I just can’t” you mumbled as JJ scoffed again, the tears in his eyes making themselves more apparent by the second.

You could tell you hurt him, and it was killing you, “You’re a fucking coward, Y/n. Nothing but a washed up, addict” JJ said to you, his eyes piercing into your soul, his voice low and clearly full of pain and betrayal.

The look on your face almost made him take it all back, tell you he didn’t mean a word he said and he still loved you and wanted the best for you, but his jealousy and anger was taking over him in the worst way.

Before anybody could say anything, Rafe had finally made his way over to your group, Topper and Kelce hot on his trail.

“Back off, Maybank, let her enjoy the night” Rafe stated, putting his hands on JJ's chest and gently pushing him back from you, an action that didn’t sit too well with JJ, or any of the Pogues for that matter.

“Don’t fucking touch me Cameron, this has nothing to do with you” JJ raised his voice, throwing Rafe’s hands off of him and getting in his face, a hard expression thrown over both of the boys faces, “Unless you’re forgetting, Y/n’s with us now, so yeah it has something to do with me” Rafe said to him, their faces inches apart, Rafe sporting a cocky grin.

He knew he had gotten under JJ’s skin.

“Okay, enough” you said, standing between the boys and pushing them apart. JJ looked you up and down one more time before scoffing and turning back to your friends, leaving you reeling at everything he had just said.

You didn’t look back as you pushed through the crowd, moving as quickly as you could to Rafe's truck, your heart pounding in time with the bass of the music, every shout and laugh from the bonfire blending into a dull roar. Rafe followed behind, muttering something about “chill, you got this,” but you barely heard him.

The bottle in your hand felt heavy, your hands trembling as you grabbed another line off the little mirror you always carried in your purse.

Just one more. You needed one more.

The line burned as it went up your nose, but you barely noticed. Your vision blurred, the air around you thick and heavy. You felt weightless and dizzy at the same time, and for a moment, the guilt, the heartbreak, the exhaustion—all of it—was gone.

“Y/n… hey,” Rafe said softly, his hand brushing your arm. “You good?”

You waved him off. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” you slurred, but your voice was thin, unconvincing even to yourself.

The world tilted. The sounds of laughter, shouting, and waves lapping against the shore warped into a distant hum. Your knees buckled, and you stumbled into the truck, the door slamming behind you. The cold metal of the seat was the only thing grounding you.

“Easy… just breathe,” Rafe said, leaning close, but his voice sounded muffled. You tried to answer, but the words caught in your throat. You felt your vision darken at the edges, your chest tightening as panic and euphoria collided inside you.

Suddenly, everything went white.

You were aware of a sharp sting in your arm, a coldness in your skin, the pounding in your head—but it felt far away, like you were watching your body from above. The truck swayed around you as the room tilted violently. You tried to reach for Rafe, but your arms felt like lead.

Panic hit him like a truck. “Y/n! No! What the fuck!”

You heard a scream—your name—louder and louder, but it sounded like it was underwater. Your fingers twitched, trying to grab anything, anything at all, but there was nothing. Darkness started creeping in from the edges, swallowing the edges of your vision.

Rafe’s face blurred, and then the world shifted violently. You gasped—or tried to—but no air came. The ceiling of the truck spun above you, the taste of blood and powder heavy on your tongue.

And then there was his voice. Clear, sharp, and full of pure terror.

“Y/n! Don’t—stay with me! Stay with me!”

Your eyes snapped open to blue eyes, rimmed red and brimming with tears. JJ. His hands were shaking as he grabbed your shoulders, shaking you gently but frantically. “Oh my god, Y/n… please, please stay awake!”

Then everything went dark.

The smell of antiseptic replaced the alcohol and saltwater from the beach. The blinding fluorescent lights stung your eyes. You could hear the beep of a heart monitor, a steady, loud rhythm that matched the thundering of your heart—or what was left of it.

“You… you need to stop, Y/n. You can’t… you can’t keep doing this,” JJ said, his voice cracking, tears running down his cheeks, hands gripping yours so tightly you thought he might break your bones.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, raspy from the panic and overdose.

“No!” he shouted, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize to me! Promise me… promise me you’re done. You can’t do this to yourself… you can’t do this to me ever again Y/n promise me!”

Your vision blurred with tears and guilt. Every ounce of your body ached, trembling from the overdose and the comedown. But beneath it all, the fear in JJ’s eyes cut through the haze. You could see his heart breaking in real-time, the boy you loved more than anything, terrified he was about to lose you forever.

“I… I love you, JJ,” you managed to whisper, your lips shaking. “I… I’m done. I promise.”

He sobbed, moving closer and burying his face in your hair, holding you as if you were made of glass, as if letting go would shatter you completely. “Don’t do this to me again, I was so scared I was gonna lose you. I don’t know what I would have done”

“I won’t,” you whispered, letting yourself melt into his embrace. The drugs, the partying, the comedowns—all of it felt like it might finally be behind you.

‘I love you so much Y/n, you’re my entire world. I can’t lose you.”

Outside the hospital room, the world could wait. Inside, it was just you and him, and the fragile hope that maybe, after everything, love—and survival—could be enough.

[littlebunnygold]

Happier Than Ever (Rafes POV)

Happier Than Ever

same story just from his side. still sad :(

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Rafe didn’t mean to fall in love with you.

That was the first lie he told himself.

He noticed you long before he touched you—before the dress, before the candles, before your mouth fit so easily against his. You were always there. Sarah’s shadow. Quiet, soft, laughing too loud when you were nervous. He told himself you were off-limits, that wanting you would be wrong.

But wanting didn’t care about rules.

On your sixteenth birthday, he watched Kelce and Topper lift you off the ground like you weighed nothing, watched your head fall back as you laughed, watched your hands cling to their shoulders. Something sharp twisted in his chest.

Mine.

The thought came uninvited. Immediate. Possessive.

He didn’t like the way other people touched you. Didn’t like how easily you smiled at them. Didn’t like how unaware you were of what you did to a room just by existing in it.

That’s why he cornered you upstairs.

He told himself it was honesty. Courage. Really, it was jealousy finally given permission to speak.

When you kissed him, it felt like winning something he hadn’t known he was competing for. Like claiming territory. Like relief.

For a while, it was good. Better than good.

You made him feel grounded. Quieted the noise. You looked at him like he wasn’t broken, like he wasn’t already slipping through the cracks his father carved into him.

But love like yours came with expectations.

Questions. Concern. Hope.

And Rafe didn’t know how to survive under that kind of light.

By New Year’s, the drugs had become a solution. A way to smooth the edges. A way to feel powerful instead of small. Alcohol blurred things; coke sharpened them. Made him faster. Smarter. Untouchable.

It also made him mean.

He hated the way other guys looked at you—like they saw something worth wanting. Like they could take you. Like he could lose you.

So he held tighter.

When he snapped at you, when he accused you, when he disappeared and came back wired and defensive, he told himself it was because he cared. That jealousy was love. That possession meant protection.

And when you cried, when you said you were worried, he apologized just enough to keep you close.

You always softened. Always forgave.

That made him reckless.

By summer, the drugs weren’t a choice anymore. They were routine. They made his thoughts louder, sharper, more absolute.

You laughing with another guy wasn’t harmless—it was betrayal. You asking questions wasn’t care—it was control. You pulling away wasn’t self-preservation—it was abandonment.

At the bonfire, everything inside him felt too tight, too fast. His heart pounded like it wanted to escape his chest. When he saw that guy refill your beer, smile at you, touch your hand—

Something snapped.

Violence felt justified. Necessary. Righteous.

I’m protecting what’s mine.

Dragging you away felt like control returning to his body. Your fear barely registered through the adrenaline. Your tears annoyed him more than they hurt him.

On the walk home, silence felt safer than words. Words could unravel him. Words could make this real.

When you told him you were done, his first instinct wasn’t heartbreak.

It was rage.

How dare you leave. How dare you choose peace over him. How dare you stop belonging.

But underneath that—deep, quiet, unbearable—was something else.

Loss.

Not just of you.

Of the version of himself that might’ve been worthy of you.

When you disappeared behind your front door, the high started to fade. The night grew too quiet. The world rushed back in.

For the first time in a year, no one was there to steady him.

August followed him everywhere after that.

In the comedowns. In the mirrors. In the silence.

Because that was the time love stopped being something he could control.

And Rafe Cameron had never learned how to survive without control.

[littlebunnygold]

Happier Than Ever (Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader)

summary: after a year of dating Rafe, you didn’t think things could be so different. 

warnings: swearing, drinking, drug use, driving under the influence, just sad vibes ya’ll 

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hiiiiiii ANOTHA ONE this ones been in my drafts since 2021 LMAO inspired by billie’s Happier Than Ever because I loves her! enjoy honeys xoxo bunny 

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

When I was a kid, I used to think falling in love would feel like a dream. Finding the person who would love you in spite of your flaws and mistakes, choosing to care for you and adore you no matter what happens. Who looks in your eyes and sees the entire universe in them, embers of galaxies knitted into your bones. I used to believe in soulmates. Now I just feel stupid.  

‘When I’m away from you I’m happier than ever Wish I could explain it better I wish it wasn’t true’ 

August 2021

Sixteen

You’d been counting down to sixteen since you were eight years old.

Sixteen meant freedom. Independence. Being taken seriously. It meant you weren’t a kid anymore—at least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood in front of your mirror, smoothing the pastel pink dress Sarah had given you. It hugged you in a way your other clothes didn’t, soft and unfamiliar and exciting.

You didn’t know yet that this dress would become a memory you’d carry forever.

Downstairs, music thumped through the house, laughter spilling from room to room as people arrived. Your heart fluttered every time the front door opened, anticipation curling tight in your chest.

When Sarah arrived earlier, she’d barely let you breathe before dragging you into a hug.

“Happy birthday!” she’d yelled.

“And before you say anything,” she added, shoving the gift into your hands, “you have to wear it.”

Now, hours later, you were glad you listened.

The party grew louder as the night went on. You’d had your first few drinks—too many, probably—and everything felt warmer, lighter, easier. You laughed louder. Hugged harder. Loved more openly.

“I love you so much,” you slurred at Sarah, throwing your arms around her.

She laughed, hugging you back. “I know. You’re drunk.”

“So are you!”

Across the room, Topper watched the two of you with an amused grin, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright,” he called out. “Birthday girl’s wasted already.”

You flipped him off playfully. “Shut up, Top.”

The music cut suddenly.

Everyone turned.

Kelce appeared from the kitchen carrying your cake, sixteen candles glowing bright. The room erupted into cheers.

“Happy birthday to you—”

You laughed as everyone sang, the sound echoing off the walls. When Kelce reached you, Topper jumped in too, grabbing your arms.

“Wait, wait—” you protested, laughing as they lifted you off the ground and onto their shoulders. 

“Make a wish!” Kelce shouted over the singing.

You squeezed your eyes shut, heart pounding, and made the same wish you’d made every year—only this time, it felt closer somehow. Possible.

You blew out the candles.

The room exploded with cheers as Kelce and Topper spun you around, laughing while Sarah clapped and shouted your name.

“You’re officially grown now!” Kelce declared, setting you back on your feet.

“God help us all,” Topper added.

You laughed, breathless and glowing, and that’s when you felt it.

Someone watching you.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Rafe stood near the edge of the room, a drink in his hand, eyes fixed on you. His expression was unreadable—jaw tight, gaze dark, intense in a way that made your stomach flip.

He’d been watching the way Topper lifted you. The way Kelce’s hands stayed on your waist a second too long. The way you laughed so freely, so unaware.

Before you could overthink it, he was moving.

You excused yourself to go upstairs, needing air, your head spinning from alcohol and attention. The hallway was quieter, the music muffled as you slipped into the bathroom and splashed water on your face.

When you opened the door again, you nearly ran straight into him.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

“Oh—hey, Rafe,” you smiled, heart jumping. “Sorry.”

He didn’t move out of the doorway.

“Happy birthday,” he said, eyes flicking over you. “You look… different.”

You laughed nervously. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

He smirked. “Definitely good.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Thanks.”

There was a pause. Heavy. Charged.

“I saw that,” he said suddenly.

“Saw what?”

“You getting lifted up like that,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Didn’t love it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why?”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Because I don’t like other guys touching you.”

Your heart stuttered.

“That’s… kind of dramatic,” you laughed softly.

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer. “But it’s true.”

You swallowed. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he replied. “I’ve known you for years. You just never noticed.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck like he was fighting with himself. “Look, I wasn’t planning on doing this tonight, but watching them all over you—” he shook his head. “It pissed me off.”

“Why?” you asked again, quieter this time.

“Because I like you,” he said plainly. “And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

Your breath caught.

“I thought you just saw me as Sarah’s friend,” you whispered.

“I tried to,” he admitted. “Didn’t work.”

The hallway felt too small. Too warm. His presence overwhelming in a way that felt thrilling, intoxicating.

“So what?” you asked. “You’re just… jealous?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “And I don’t feel bad about it.”

Your heart hammered.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you reached up, grabbing his collar and pulling him down into a kiss.

It was everything you’d imagined—electric, consuming, real. Like the universe snapping into place.

When you pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured.

And you believed, in that moment, that this was the beginning of something beautiful.

You didn’t know yet that it was also the beginning of everything falling apart.

‘You called me again,  Drunk in your Benz, Driving home under the influence, You scared me to death, But I’m wasting my breath, Cause you only listen to your fucking friends’

NYE 2021

Five Months In

By New Year’s, loving Rafe felt effortless—dangerous, but effortless.

Five months together had turned into a rhythm. His house felt like yours. His bed felt like home. He knew how you took your coffee, how you liked your music loud in the car, how you hated silence but loved quiet with him.

You didn’t notice yet how often quiet had started turning into distance.

Sarah’s New Year’s party was massive—people packed into every room, bodies swaying, music vibrating through the walls. You arrived with Rafe, his hand firm on your waist as if grounding himself through you.

“Don’t lose me,” he murmured into your ear.

You smiled. “I won’t.”

He kissed your cheek and disappeared almost immediately, swallowed by the crowd.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Rafe knew everyone. People gravitated toward him. You told yourself that was normal.

Twenty minutes passed.

Then thirty.

You checked your phone—no texts, no missed calls. You scanned the room, anxiety creeping in as you wove through laughing strangers and spilled drinks.

When you finally spotted him near the back of the house, a drink already in his hand, something in your chest tightened. His eyes were too bright. His movements a little too loose.

Before you could reach him, someone bumped into you.

“Hey, sorry—” a guy from school laughed, steadying you. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “All good.”

You laughed at something he said—nothing special, nothing flirty—

And suddenly Rafe was there.

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest hard enough to steal your breath.

“What’s funny?” he asked flatly

The guy blinked. “Uh—nothing man.”

He disappeared.

You turned, heart racing. “Rafe, what was that?”

“What?” he asked, eyes unfocused, jaw tight.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“I was literally just standing there.”

“Exactly,” he replied. “That’s enough.”

The words sent a strange chill through you.

“Where did you go?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation. “I’ve been looking for you.”

He shrugged. “Out.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He smirked, tapping the side of his nose absentmindedly. “Relax. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You stared at him, realization slowly forming.

“Have you been drinking?”

He grinned. “A little.”

“And… anything else?”

His eyes flickered for just a second—annoyance, then something softer.

“Don’t start,” he said lightly.

“I’m not starting,” you replied. “I’m worried.”

That word again.

Rafe sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “God, you sound like my dad.”

That one hurt.

“I just care about you,” you said quietly.

He looked at you for a long moment, like he was deciding whether to push or pull. Then he stepped closer, hands sliding to your hips, grounding, familiar.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that. I just—” he shook his head, laughing softly, “—everything’s loud tonight.”

You softened despite yourself. “You could’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your night,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re supposed to be having fun.”

“Fun doesn’t mean not knowing where you are,” you said.

He smirked. “You miss me that much?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

He laughed, genuine this time, spinning you slightly as music shifted.

Later, when you pulled him into the bathroom and shut the door behind you, the tension finally snapped.

“Were you drinking and driving?” you asked, hands shaking as you took the bottle from him.

“No,” he said too quickly.

You sighed. “Rafe.”

He looked away. “Okay. Yes. But I’m fine.”

“You could’ve hurt someone,” you whispered.

He scoffed. “You’re overreacting.”

You stepped closer, wiping under his nose without thinking.

White powder.

“What’s this?” you asked.

His jaw clenched. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“Why are you doing this right now?” he snapped. “It’s New Year’s.”

“Because I love you,” you said. “And I’m scared.”

That stopped him.

For a moment, the irritation drained from his face, replaced by something vulnerable, almost boyish. He cupped your cheek.

“Hey,” he murmured. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“You always promise,” you said softly.

“And I always come back,” he replied, smiling crookedly. “Don’t I?”

You nodded, even though your chest still hurt.

When the countdown began, he pulled you into the living room, one hand on your waist, the other cradling your face like you were something precious.

When he said I love you, it sounded like truth.

When you said it back, it felt like hope.

And as the room erupted in cheers and kisses and fireworks lit the sky, you let yourself believe that love would be enough.

You didn’t notice how tightly his grip held you.

Or how easily apologies kept you quiet.

‘I don't relate to you I don't relate to you, no Cause I’d never treat me this shitty  You make me hate this city’

August 2022

Almost One Year

By August, loving Rafe felt like bracing for impact.

You’d stopped wearing the pink dress, stopped waiting by the window, stopped believing that loving him harder would make him softer.

When he texted you—Bonfire. Come now.—you hesitated before replying. Not because you didn’t want to see him, but because you were already tired.

The beach was packed when you arrived. Music blared from truck beds, flames roared high, sparks drifting into the dark sky. The air smelled like smoke, beer, and something sharper—chemical, electric.

You found Rafe near the fire almost immediately.

He looked wired. Eyes blown wide, jaw clenched tight, movements restless like he couldn’t stand still in his own body. He didn’t smile when he saw you.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“With Sarah,” you replied. “I told you.”

He scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Sure.”

You ignored the edge in his voice and turned toward the cooler nearby. “I’m grabbing another beer.”

Before he could answer, a guy you vaguely recognized—tall, tan, annoyingly attractive—popped the cooler open for you.

“Need help?” he asked, flashing an easy smile.

“Thanks,” you laughed. “Mine keeps sticking.”

He handed you a cold beer, fingers brushing yours briefly. “Birthday’s coming up, right? You still a Leo?”

You smiled. “Always.”

You didn’t even notice Rafe until the air shifted.

“What the fuck is this?”

The guy looked between the two of you. “Relax, man, I was just—”

Rafe shoved him.

Hard.

“Rafe!” you shouted, grabbing his arm, but he ripped free like he didn’t even feel you.

“You think you’re funny?” Rafe snarled, chest heaving. “You think you can touch what’s mine?”

The guy pushed back. “Dude, back off—”

Rafe swung.

It happened fast—too fast. A fist, a shout, bodies scrambling as the guy stumbled back into the sand. People started yelling. Someone tried to grab Rafe, but he shook them off, breathing heavy, eyes wild.

“Rafe, stop!” you cried.

He turned to you, nostrils flaring, eyes glassy and unfocused. There was white dust still clinging faintly beneath his nose.

“We’re leaving,” he said.

“What?” you whispered.

“Now,” he snapped, grabbing your wrist.

“Let go of me!” you protested, trying to pull back. “You can’t just—”

“I said now.”

His grip tightened, not enough to bruise, but enough to scare you. People were staring. Someone shouted his name. He didn’t care.

He dragged you away from the fire, down the beach, your heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Once you were far enough away, he finally released you.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, tears spilling over. “You embarrassed me. You scared me.”

“He was hitting on you,” Rafe shot back.

“So what?” you cried. “That doesn’t give you the right to do that.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he snapped. “You don’t let guys do that.”

“I don’t let anything,” you said, shaking. “I’m not something you get to guard.”

He laughed bitterly. “You don’t get it.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t. Because this isn’t you anymore.”

He stepped closer, crowding your space. “I’m walking you home.”

“I can walk myself.”

“No,” he said flatly. “You’re coming with me.”

The walk was silent. No apologies. No jokes. No hand on your waist. Just footsteps in the sand and the sound of your own breathing.

When you reached your house, you stopped at the edge of the driveway.

“This is it,” you said quietly.

He crossed his arms. “So you’re still mad.”

You laughed softly through tears. “I’m done.”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you said. “I don’t recognize you. And you don’t even seem to care.”

He scoffed. “You’re being dramatic.”

You shook your head. “I’ve been shrinking myself for you for months. I’ve been scared of you. That’s not love.”

He looked away, restless. “So what, you’re just leaving?”

“Yes.”

“After everything?” he snapped. “After I fought for you?”

“That wasn’t for me,” you said gently. “That was for your ego.”

That one hit.

“You don’t even want me happy,” you whispered. “You just don’t want anyone else to have me.”

Silence.

For the first time, he didn’t argue.

“Happy almost-one-year,” he muttered bitterly.

You wiped your cheeks. “I loved you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah. I know.”

You turned and walked up the driveway without looking back.

Behind you, Rafe stood alone in the dark—amped up, empty, furious—watching the only person who ever loved him without conditions disappear behind a closed door.

And later, when the drugs wore off and the silence crept back in—

August would hurt worse than any punch he threw.

Because that was the night he finally lost you.