no one’s ever had me, not like you | chapter 2 teaser
here you go, as promised, a super teensy tiny teaser of chapter two of my rafe fic. like i mentioned before, i didn’t want to include any rafe/reader interaction as i wanna save that for when i post the fic. buttttt any predictions what’s gonna happen in part 2 based on this teaser?? 🤔💞🫶🏼
“Hey man, did you hear what I said? What do you think?”
Rafe blinks, forcibly peeling his eyes away from you, and trying his best to suppress the wild, innate desire to follow you, keep tabs on you, make sure he knows what you’re doing at all times.
Topper waves his hand in front of his face, “Rafe?”
His eyes narrow in irritation, “What?”
“The party. Saturday night. It’s at this abandoned beach house in the Cut. I’m pretty sure Sarah’s gonna be there, and–”
“No.”
Topper sighs, “I mean, I think you should go, man. There’ll be plenty of other Pogue girls there if you’re looking to hook up.”
The thought of that makes him sick.
“I’m not going to some Pogue-infested crack house on the Cut, Topper.”
“But I think the best way for you to get over her is to find someone else–”
“Get it through your thick fucking skull,” Rafe grabs him by the collar, a sudden rage coursing through his veins and he can’t even pinpoint why, “I’m not trying to get over shit, okay? There’s nothing to get over. Don’t fuckin’ project your shit on me just ‘cause you can’t get over my bitch of a sister.”
“Jesus Christ, alright!” Topper shakes him off, backing away and raising his hands in the air, “You shouldn’t speak about Sarah like that.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Everyone’s staring at him again. Like he’s the crazy one or some shit like that. Fuck them all. His nose twitches, and he wishes he’d brought some coke with him. But the last time he’d been caught on campus with drugs, Ward had to pay a shit ton of money for the faculty to forget it ever happened. Doesn’t help now, when he feels like he’s gonna implode. A part of him wishes he could go to you, because you’d make him feel calm and in control again. But that isn’t an option, and so he tries to control his breathing. He can’t.
Fuck.
yikes… Rafe is… not doing okay, is he? LMAOOO let me know what you think and if you have any predictions on what’ll happen in part 2!!! 💞
𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: frat!Rafe Cameron x innocent Pogue!reader
𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: dark, dubcon, unhinged inner monolog from rafe, misogynistic rhetoric, classist rhetoric (in the context of kooks, pogues etc), daddy kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity, smut (oral + p in v), oral (female receiving, fingering, MAJORR size kink, spanking, daddy issues, condescension, babying, dirty talk, swearing, very unbalanced power dynamic, which rafe gets off on, slut-shaming, derogatory name calling, manipulation, college au, reader is a freshman and rafe is a senior, 18+ only, mdni
𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Rafe bets his friends he can fuck you in one week.
𝘼/𝙉: It's here! The full fic. Word count: 23k. Please let me know what you think - reblogs and feedback mean the world to me. Read the warnings before you read, and enjoy!
“Her.”
Rafe looks over at the Pogue girl Topper’s nodding at and smirks. “Been there, done that. Pick a different one.”
Topper scoffs, “She literally moved here last week.”
“And?”
“OK… What about her?” He brazenly points at a leggy blonde that stands out in her group of Pogues.
“Last weekend at the beach party you threw. She gives good head.”
“Jesus Christ dude, is there anyone left??”
Rafe chuckles, leaning back and stretching his legs out while his friends stare at him in disbelief. He sometimes wonders if they know how stupid they look. Like followers. His followers. Hanging on to his every word, oohing and aahing at whatever he did. Making him feel like he was a God among men. Which he may as well be, considering that’s how most people at this college looked at him.
That’s why he loved fucking the Pogue girls. Almost exclusively. There was something about the power imbalance. Most of them came from poor families, looked at Rafe like he was a God. It didn’t take much for them to spread their legs for him, impressed by his power, turned on by his wealth. Hell, even the Kook girls were the same. But Rafe hardly ever took them home. They were spoiled sluts who hung around the country club wasting their lives and spending their daddies” money. Yeah, they didn’t pique his interest at all. Not as much as the Pogue girls who worked at the country club. In their little housekeeping outfits, deliberately teasing him in the hopes he’d take one of them home.
Yeah. It was safe to say Rafe Cameron had a type.
“Well, what about that one?”
Rafe rolls his eyes, about to say that yes, he had indeed fucked whatever girl Topper was pointing at this time. Because he’d fucked all of them. Because of who he was. Because of what he was capable of. Because of the family he came from. Because of what being a mere notch on Rafe Cameron’s bedpost meant to every single slut he’d ran through.
Except he doesn’t. Because Topper is pointing at you. And he’s never seen you before in his life.
You look so out of place, despite the fact you’re with a group of Pogues. And he knows you’re a Pogue. Like a shark with blood and a predator with its prey, he can always tell. And yet you stand awkwardly on the outskirts of the group, smiling yet not quite participating in whatever conversation is going on. You push your glasses up, straighten your skirt, pretend to look for something in your book bag. You’re shy. Self-conscious. Insecure. Rafe smiles.
“Who is she?”
“Aha! You haven’t slept with her!” Topper cheers like he’s won the fucking lottery. Sometimes Rafe wonders why he’s friends with him.
“Who is she?” He repeats like he hasn’t even heard him.
“She’s the new chick,” Kelce says, “except she’s not exactly new in town.”
“I heard she was home-schooled,” Topper snickers, “That’s why she’s fucking weird and has no friends. Even the Pogues don’t want her.”
Rafe observes you some more. Watches the bright smile on your face, how you try to chime in to whatever conversation the girls around you are having. They nod at you politely yet dismissively. They’re not your friends. As Topper said, you don’t have any.
Insecure. Weak. Vulnerable.
He licks his lips.
“How long?”
“Huh?”
He runs a hand through his hair impatiently, “How long do you wanna bet it takes me to get her into bed?” He nods in your direction.
Topper raises an eyebrow.
“You can’t be serious, man. She looks like she doesn’t even know what sex means.”
Kelce laughs, “She looks like she can’t even say it. Like she spells it out every time, s-e-x.”
They’re right. You look very innocent, but all that does is incense him. Rafe’s used to easy sluts who spread their legs after one drink or a ride on his motorbike. But you. He can tell you’d be harder to crack. But there’s something so fucking hot about how naive you look. How shy and sweet you are. How ruined he could leave you. Splayed out on his bike, legs quivering, all sweaty limbs and shy pants after he’s done having his way with you—
“How long?” He repeats, not in the mood to waste time and already getting hard picturing innocent little you with your tiny skirt flipped up and his head buried between those soft thighs, your sweet little confused cries because no one’s ever touched you like that, and—
“A week.”
“Mm?”
“A week to fuck her. With proof.”
Rafe stands up and stretches, licking his lips as he watches you retreat to a small bench, getting your little book out and burying your nose in it.
“That’s too easy. What do I get when I do it?”
“If you do it, you can decide what you get then. But as I said before, we’d need proof.” Kelce says.
“Yeah, proof,” Topper echoes, a glint in his eye as he looks over at you, “Pictures.”
Rafe shrugs, already kind of bored, “Sure.” He’d taken plenty of pictures of his conquests in the past. Him and his boys had a group chat where they shared that kind of shit. And the idea of taking pictures of you in such a vulnerable position gets him harder than anything. Sweet little freshman baby fucked dumb by the big bad senior, posing for pictures afterwards all teary-eyed but submissive. They all got submissive for him, even after he was done using them.
You flip a page, completely engrossed in your book and looking every bit the naive baby he’s imagining you as. A little lamb who has no idea she was in the presence of a fucking lion. And he bets you’re a virgin. Homeschooled with no friends? Forget virgin, you probably haven’t even had your first kiss. And that gets him so fucking horny, right there in the middle of the campus courtyard. The idea that you’re so pure, so untouched. So happy, so unassuming. A little fucking baby.
He’d have fun ruining you.
***
“You sure do love reading, don’t you?”
It’s the following day when Rafe finds you sitting by yourself in the corner of the library, with nothing but your book to keep you company.
You jump like a little mouse, pushing your glasses up your nose and gulping up at him, fear briefly flitting across your face before you force a small smile. And he likes his girls jumpy, he likes them slightly afraid of him. He knows he has that effect on people in general, but he wonders who’s told you about him.
“Sorry, were you — uh — were you talking to me?”
Rafe smirks, “Yes. Who else would I be talking to?”
“Oh, uh, I’m not sure…”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“Oh, of course,” you look embarrassed, and he watches you squirm under his gaze for a good few seconds. “I… um…”
“You find books more interesting than people?”
“Huh?”
He chuckles, pulling up a chair next to you, noting how your eyes widen as he takes a seat, “Why are you always reading?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just like to read,” you shrug.
“You sure do.” He wonders if he could get you to read your precious book out loud while he went down on you, licked your virgin cunt while you cried because it felt too good. And then he’d spank you if you stopped or messed up a word, and like a stupid dumb fucking baby, you’d sniffle and wail through each paragraph, hold back your moans while he went to town on your little pussy till you wet yourself, and he’d suck your—
“Are you making fun of me?”
You pose the question so innocently— hell, you practically whisper it, and it knocks Rafe straight out of his daydream to find you blinking up at him with Bambi eyes.
“What?”
You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not so good at understanding if someone’s joking or not. I’m not… uh… I’m not used to being around so many people, and it makes me nervous and I can’t tell if someone’s being genuine or if they’re making fun of me.”
“You were homeschooled, huh?” Rafe stares at you intently, noting how you play with your hair nervously, and your fingers tap against the hard cover of your book. How you can barely make eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds.
“Yes. My mom taught me and my older brothers.”
Rafe nods, taking his time to answer. He looks at you some more, enjoying how it makes you uncomfortable. You fidget nervously, and it amuses him every time you peek up to meet his gaze before a look of alarm crosses your face and you divert your eyes down to your book once more.
“You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?” He says finally, chuckling at the embarrassed look on your face.
“I… I guess. I do want to make friends but it’s pretty overwhelming.”
“I’ll be your friend.”
He does a good job of hiding his predatory, wolfish smile. And he wonders if you can see the glint in his eye as he mentally undresses you. You look so small and weak, especially compared to him. Gullible too. Too innocent for your own good, the way you gape up at him as if he’s offered you gold on a platter. It makes him want to stroke your soft cheek, pat it and tell you what a good little girl you are. For being so naive.
You shake your head as if trying to straighten out your thoughts. He can tell, he has that effect on women too.
“Oh, you don’t have to, I uh—”
“Rafe Cameron?! In the library?!” An annoying, high-pitched voice shrieks, making you jump as it cuts you off mid-sentence.
It’s a kook girl. A cheerleader. Rafe can’t be fucked to remember her name but he’s sure he’s hooked up with her. She’s one of those ones, the ones that hang out at the country club and try to catch his eye. One of the desperate sluts who thinks if she spreads her legs enough times for him, that he’ll make her his girlfriend or some stupid shit like that.
“Rafe, what are you doing here?” The cheerleader sidles up to him, her hand on his chest and batting her lashes in his direction in some pathetic form of seduction. She ignores you, and you shrink into yourself, hastily burying your face in your book.
“What do you want?” He asks, not quite as interested in her answer as he is in continuing to stare at you. How you try to act like you don’t care, but he knows you’re hurt from being ignored, from being treated like you’re invisible.
“Nothing. Just wondering what you’re up to.” But she flashes him her fuck me eyes, her nails scraping suggestively against his chest. Rafe yawns, considering it. He has time before his next class (not that he could be fucked to turn up to class half the time) and his dick’s hard from talking to you. And since you probably don’t even know what the word blowjob means…
“Go in there,” he nods at one of the private study rooms in the far end of the library, and the fucking slut nearly trips as she scrambles to obey him. Rafe takes his time, stretching his legs before slowly getting up.
You peek up from your book, “Are you guys gonna go study in there?”
He could’ve bust a nut then and there from how fucking innocent you sound. Batting your little eyelashes at him like you’re trying to seduce him without even realising it. He knows he’ll be thinking about you, weepy and on your knees, while the kook girl blows him. Fuck, and if he plays his cards right, he’d have you by the end of the week. And he always plays his cards right.
“You could call it studying.”
You nod, “OK, well, goodbye then.” You look back down at your book, but risk a glance up at him again, which he finds very amusing.
“What’s your name, homeschool?”
You tell him.
He sounds it out, before shooting you one last smile, “Well, I’ll see you soon. Won’t I?”
You give him a puzzled look, but it’s replaced by your usual wide-eyed Bambi stare when he pats your hand, his thumb lingering, stroking your skin. He wonders if you’ve ever even touched someone of the opposite sex before. Judging by how your breath hitches softly, he doubts it.
Fuck. He can’t wait to ruin you. Play the slow game and enjoy that sweet virgin snatch before any other man ever could.
That’s what he’s thinking of when he’s got the cheerleader on her knees in front of him. That sweet little look on your face, the look of curiosity mixed with shyness and that little hint of indignation. Fuck, he wants to ruin you. And he would. With proof.
***
Day two. Rafe finds you walking down the hallway, your books clutched to your chest and eyes trained to the floor. Cutest little skirt making your perky ass pop, winking at him enticingly with every step as if you’re deliberately seducing him. Makes him want to slap your cute little ass, reprimand you for teasing him and half the men on campus without even realising it. He wonders what you’d say if he just did it. Spanked you in front of everyone. You’d probably start blubbering like a little baby. He has to forcibly stop picturing it before he gets uncomfortably hard.
You’re alone. As usual.
“Hey, homeschool,” he falls into step beside you, eyebrow raising in amusement when you don’t slow down nor look at him.
“Oh, h-hello, Rafe.”
“What’re you up to today?”
“Nothing, just going to my next lecture.”
He grabs your wrist, watching as your breath hitches, and yet you still don’t look at him. Damn, what had gotten Bambi so scared?
“You’ve got time to talk to me, don’t you?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. And you know it, judging by how you swallow harshly.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to be late—” You attempt to tug your little hand out of his grasp but you’re so small and weak that it barely has any effect.
“C’mon, homeschool. That’s no way to treat your one and only friend.”
He’s walks you into a corner, and he likes how you gape at the wall before turning and looking up at him. He’s so much taller than you, bigger than you in every single way.
“Rafe, I…” you sigh, shifting from one foot to the other, “My friends said some things…”
“Friends?” You don’t have any.
“Some of the girls I know. They saw us talking yesterday at the library and they…” you sigh, “They said you were probably just playing a joke on me.”
Fuckin’ jealous pogue bitches.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. They said there’s no way you’d talk to me for any other reason apart from as a joke. And they…” you bite your lip, looking so cutely distraught and it goes straight to his dick. “They said some other things… about you.”
Of course they fuckin’ did. Always talking behind his back, but never to his goddamned face. Nothing but a bunch of jealous, gold-digging whores.
He doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you as if he expects you to tell him. And he knows you will. You’re too innocent to keep secrets.
“They said that you… that you’re scary sometimes.”
Rafe remains impassive, waiting for you to continue.
“That you… that you pick on a lot of us Pogues. E-Especially the boys. That you and your friends bully them.”
He snorts. Bully. What a juvenile word. Sure, he pushed the dipshit Pogues around here and there. They deserved it for all the trouble they ran around town causing, disrupting the natural order of shit. And he could fuck their girls better than they ever could. Especially that fuckin’ idiot JJ Maybank…
“They also said that… never mind.” Again, you try to tug away from him but to no avail.
“Tell me.” He likes how you struggle under his scrutinising gaze.
“It’s… it’s not appropriate.”
“Say it. Now.”
You lower your voice, “They said you like to use the girls. The pogue girls. Th-That you have a kink for them.”
The scandalous words have hardly left your mouth before you duck your head down as if embarrassed. God, you were so fucking innocent. Rafe wonders how he should play this.
“Huh. Is that so?”
“Y-Yeah. One of the girls I talk to… She said that you…” you swallow, biting your lip, “that you’ve been with her and all her friends too. That you tell them all the same thing but it’s always a lie and you just end up using them.”
Rafe nods, “Hmm.”
“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I don’t think we should—“
“That’s funny. I thought you were smart. You know, with all your books and the glasses and shit.”
You blink, “What?”
He shrugs, “I didn’t think you’d go ahead and pass judgement on someone without even getting to know them first.”
“It’s not that–”
“I mean, here I am, wanting to be friends with you. And I’ve been nothin’ but nice, haven’t I?”
He’s still got you backed into a corner, and he watches as you flinch when he emphasises his words. He knows people get intimidated by his intensity, but there’s nothing he hates more than people talking shit behind his back. Especially low-life Pogues. And he likes how scared you look right now, pouty lips all downturned and alarm in your eyes.
“I asked you a question, homeschool.”
“Yes, you’ve been nothing but nice! It’s just, I heard all these things, and–”
“And you chose to believe them.” He steps back abruptly, “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
He walks away, about to count to three in his head but you beat the count before he can even begin.
“Rafe, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to judge you.”
He stops, allows you to catch up.
“You’re right, I…I shouldn’t listen to other people.”
“You shouldn’t.” Rafe agrees, easily taking your heavy textbooks from where you’ve been balancing them in your arms. You gape, but he just continues smoothly: “Where’s your next class?”
You tell him, “But you don’t have to walk with me or anything–”
“I’m your friend, homeschool. That’s what friends do.”
*
Day 3. You’re eating your lunch on a bench outside all by yourself. Rafe’s heading to his car with his friends. They usually cut classes most days to hit the beach or the country club. Rafe doesn’t see the point of college anyways, not when he was poised to inherit all of his father’s businesses, money and property. And with the ideas he had, he’d expand tenfold on whatever Ward was doing now, make a shit ton more money than his old man ever did. That would show him…
”How’s the bet coming along, Rafe?” Topper asks.
“Wait till the end of the week.” Is all Rafe says. He doesn’t need to give progress reports to his dumb fuck ass follower friends.
“That means he’s nowhere near cracking that virgin pussy.” Kelce chuckles. “No worries, brother. She looks like she’s got a stick up her ass anyways. Not loose like the rest of the Pogue whores.”
He ignores them as they laugh. But they’re right. You’re not like the rest of the Pogue girls. They’d grown up wild, promiscuous, loose. Trained to catch the attention of a rich Kook like himself, filled with self-serving motivations to marry into money. But he can already tell you’re different. With your cute little outfits and respectful, quiet demeanour. You look like you’d fit in where he was from.
Too bad he was only going to fuck you before discarding you like he did the rest of them.
“I’ll catch you guys later.” He says, making a beeline for you.
“Hey,” he chucks you under the chin, smirking when you jump.
“Oh, hey Rafe.” You look beyond his shoulder, “Your friends are all leaving.”
“Yeah. The waves are good this time of day.”
You gape, “But don’t you have classes?”
He takes a seat next to you, making sure to stretch out while you shrink into yourself. Still so nervous around him. He snickers, “You gonna tell on us?”
You look aghast, “No! I would never–”
“I’m just kidding, homeschool.”
“Oh,” you look embarrassed, “Sorry. Sometimes I–”
“Can’t tell if someone’s joking or not,” Rafe completes, “I remember. I’ll be more straight up with you.”
You nod, and he can tell you’re trying to think of something else to say. But you’re too nervous, too awkward. And so you just bury your head in your book again, all while he watches you. You’ve got a bottle of apple juice and a half-eaten sandwich of some kind on the table next to you. Cut up into little triangles. He bets you’ve done it yourself. Fuckin’ cute.
“You dress cute.” He says, and again, widened Bambi eyes stare up at him. He chuckles, “You know, the little skirts and plaid and shit. It’s cute.”
“Thank you.”
“You do it on purpose?” He can’t help but ask, because he wonders if a part of you knows what you’re doing. Knows you’re dressing like a sexy little angel out of his wettest dreams. All little and cute and innocent, so much smaller than him. Weak. All pastel and pretty, like you’d look so fucking sexy on the back of his bike. On his arm. On his dick.
“I don’t know what you mean by that,” you say, sounding every bit as innocent as you look. Damn, homeschool must’ve done a number on you. But he likes how sheltered you sound. It gets him so fucking hard, and a part of him almost feels sorry for how primed you are to be taken advantage of. “I wear my mom’s old clothes, or stuff I find in the charity shops.”
He’d had maids and housekeepers who shopped in places like that. He remembers him and his siblings giving them their old clothes once they’d grown out of them.
He nods, “You look pretty.”
Your breath hitches, and you really don’t know how to respond to that, because you slam your book shut and stand up, “I, uh, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for my next class.”
He watches you leave, distracted by your ass again but not enough to miss the little smile that quirks on your lips as you bid him farewell and walk away.
*
On day 4, Rafe walks up behind you in the busy hallway, pressing his huge hand on your lower back and pushing you into another secluded corner. He smirks when you squeak, but he likes how easily he can push you around because of how weak and small you are.
“Hey.” He told himself he’d take it slow (well, as slow as he could take it in the span of one week) and yet he can’t help but press into you a little bit. It’s innocuous enough, but your eyes widen as per usual, and the feel of your hot little body against his much larger one is enough to give him a boner. It’s how he could easily push you into an empty lecture hall and have his way with you if he so wanted to. Sure, you’d cry and resist at first, but they all gave in in the end. And if someone caught them, he’d pay them off.
Rafe Cameron owned the world. Nothing could stop him.
“Hello, Rafe.” You breathe, and he loves how his name sounds when you say it. He imagines you moaning it when he has you on his lap, pressing you down on his dick while you cry and whimper because it’s too much, it’s too big. But your greedy little virgin pussy would take every inch of his fat dick, and he’d do all the work, of course. You’d be too busy crying, and he’d bounce you up and down on his dick while you grabbed at his arms, his hair, his face. He’d tell you to scrape your nails down his back, leave a fucking mark or two so daddy could remember you.
“Come for a drive with me? I’ll buy you lunch.”
Despite your shyness, a fire flashes in your eyes, “I can buy my own lunch!”
He raises an eyebrow. As if on cue, you lower your gaze.
“Sorry, I mean… thank you for your offer, Rafe. But I can buy my own lunch.”
Surprisingly though, you agree to the drive. And he still has his hand pressed against your back, guiding you out to where his car’s parked. You ogle at it, probably never having seen anything as expensive. He wonders if your family even owns a car, or if you even know how to drive. It would be hot if you didn’t, it made you look even more helpless. In need of someone like him to protect you, take care of you. Someone powerful and wealthy like himself.
“Wow, I’ve never been on this side of the island before!” You say, oohing and aahing as you stare out the window. Rafe’s never seen anyone so easily excited by the neighbourhood he’d grown so used to. But he supposes the mansions, sports cars, country clubs and private beaches would be impressive to anyone who hadn’t grown up with easy access to all of that.
“No?”
“No, but my brother’s friend works there, I think.” You point to the vast golf course at the back end of one of the clubs. “He says the tips are really good.”
Rafe frowns. You were talking to other men? No, not you. You were too sweet, too innocent. He was sure he was the only man you spoke to. Or even if you were speaking to others, he doubts a golf caddy pathetically running after balls would be much competition. And yet, he bristles, wanting to change the subject.
“Do you have a job?” Rafe asks.
You shake your head, “No. I sometimes tutor some kids in the neighbourhood but nothing permanent. I’d love to have a part-time job with proper wages like the country club or library or something, but my family’s kind of protective of me.”
“Mm?” He’s deliberately being quiet, wanting to hear you talk, wanting to learn more about you.
“Yeah. That’s why I was homeschooled. My mom’s scared someone’s gonna take advantage of me.” You pause, before giggling, “It took a lot to convince her to let me apply for colleges, but I think she’s finally starting to see me as an adult who can make my own decisions and protect myself.”
The irony isn’t lost on Rafe, but he finds himself leaning closer. You have this way of talking, so soft and breathy, yet energetic and full of life at the same time. Like you’re a storybook character, like you’re someone out of this world. Like an angel dropped down from heaven and sent just for him. You’re his type to a tee. God, he wants to fuck you so bad.
“What would your mom say if she knew you were out with me?” His hand creeps up to rest on your knee. You’re wearing jeans, which he doesn’t approve of but he decides to give you a pass since it’s windy today.
You don’t notice his touch anyways; you’re too busy pondering over his question. But there’s a glint in your eye, “Sh-She wouldn’t approve. But that’s only ‘cause she doesn’t know you.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, his thumb rubbing circles against the denim of your jeans. “And you do?”
You swallow, finally realising he’s got his hand on you. Surprisingly, you don’t move. It’s almost like you’re frozen, those big fuck me Bambi eyes making a comeback, “Uh…I…We’re friends, aren’t we?”
He smirks, “Yeah. Friends.” His hand creeps up higher, stroking your thigh softly, wishing you were wearing one of your little skirts so he could feel your bare skin. But it’s thrilling anyways, touching your quivering body while you’re defenceless inside his car. He could lock the doors and have his way with you right now. Hell, people outside would get quite the show but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked in public.
Poor little you. Losing your virginity in the front seat of his car. He’d drag you into his lap, bounce you up and down on his cock. But not before making you beg for it first. And you’d cry so fucking bad, because it would hurt. Because he’d promise he’d be gentle but he knows himself, he knows he’d lose control like he always did. Fuck you so goddamned hard, he’d have to lay you down in the backseat afterwards because you wouldn’t be able to stop shaking. Then drive you back to his house, carry you into his bed and have his way with you again. And again. And again.
“Rafe?”
“Yes?”
“You’re not hanging out with me because you feel sorry for me, are you?”
That grabs his attention, “Why would you think that?”
You shrug, “No reason. I just… Well, you have so many friends. I guess I don’t quite understand why you’re hanging out with me.”
“I like you.” He shifts even closer, his hand steadily stroking your leg while you remain stiff, “Do you like me?”
“H-Huh?”
“You heard me, homeschool.” And yet he knows you’re distracted by his fingers tracing shapes on your thigh. Not random shapes, though. It’s his initials. Over and over again. R.C., he wonders if you can tell.
“I, uh, y-ye–” You’re having trouble getting your words out, and it amuses him. He can see you visibly shaking, and he wonders if it’s out of fear or anticipation. Or both. He leans down, bringing his face close to yours.
“I didn’t quite get that.” He licks his lips at how weak and intimidated you look. “Say it again.”
It’s an order, and you clear your throat, shake your head as if to clear your thoughts.
“Yes,” you whisper, as if it’s something scandalous, “Y-Yes, I like you.”
He pulls back abruptly, leaving you gaping at him.
“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
He buys you a panini from a little artisan bakery, with a strawberry iced tea and a packet of chocolate hearts with a cherry cream filling. You protest at first, unzipping your bag to pay for yourself, but he’d sooner roll over and die than let a woman pay for anything.
“Toss me one,” he says, and you throw a little cherry-filled truffle at him. He catches it between his teeth, and your eyes light up, clearly impressed.
“Wow, that was cool!”
“C’mere, you’ve got a little something…” He grabs your chin gently, pulling you forward before rubbing his thumb against the side of your lip, wiping away a bit of chocolate. “Messy girl.”
Your breath hitches, but you stay still for him like a good little girl. His thumb lingers, and he wants to press it into your mouth, make you suck the chocolate off it. Then tell you he had something else for you to suck on. Push you down and make you warm his cock with your mouth while he drove you back to campus. One hand on the steering wheel, the other pressing your head down, making you take his big cock despite you whimpering and panicking because you can’t breathe.
He rubs your lower lip with his thumb for a moment before pulling away. You clear your throat, snapping out of whatever reverie you’ve been in, straighten up against the seat and put your seatbelt on. You still look like you’re in a daze, however, and he wonders if you’re wet from him wiping your face clean.
“I-uh-we should head back please, if that’s okay?” you say, voice slightly shaky as you avoid eye contact with him. “I don’t want to miss my afternoon class.”
He grins, “You a teacher’s pet?”
That makes you smile, and you shrug shyly. It almost enamours him.
He gets you back to campus on time, and you give him a little wave before you jump out of his car and walk inside. And god, it’s insane how hot you are. Even in your jeans, which have cute little embroidered flowers on the butt. Makes your ass look insane. Like it’s begging to be grabbed, smacked, fucked.
He breathes out heavily through his nose, slumping back against his seat. His dick is uncomfortably hard. God, you didn’t even realise how much you’d teased him tonight. Sitting tight and pretty in the passenger seat of his car, so quiet and pretty. So innocently impressed by Figure 8, and by him. How shy you’d been when you’d admitted that you liked him…
He gets his phone out, blindly texting one of the desperate girls on his phone. He needs a release. And he’d be thinking of you the whole time.
*
On day 5, Rafe tells you to give him your number. From his peripheral, he can see a bunch of Pogues whispering and watching while he takes your phone and puts his number in.
“Have your little friends been talking more shit about me?”
You flinch. He can’t help the intensity of his tone sometimes, and he’s noticed you never swear and, like a jumpy little mouse, probably feel intimidated when he does.
“No, I haven’t really spoken to them in a while.”
Rafe grins, “Yeah?”
“Yes. I’ve been busy with schoolwork.”
He saves his number on your phone before pressing it into your back pocket for you. You gape, eyes darting around to see if anyone saw. He wonders just how prim and proper you are, and how quickly he could get you to come undone once he got you comfortable and behind closed doors.
“You’re not too busy to text me, right?”
You smile, looking down and fidgeting with your binder. He notices you’ve got little stickers on it, like cupcakes and hearts and shit. What a fuckin’ baby.
“Text you? I don’t really– I have to a test tomorrow that I need to study for.”
But he knows you’ll text him. They always did. You weren’t any different.
“What are you smiling at?” Kelce asks, pulling up beside him as Rafe watches you head into your next class.
Immediately, he straightens his face, “Nothing man.”
“You falling for that homeschool freak Pogue?”
He snorts, “You wish. I have standards.”
“You sure about that?”
He whips his head sharply to stare down at his friend, “You want me to repeat myself?”
Rafe doesn’t miss the flicker of fear in Kelce’s eyes. They’d never admit it, but he knows his friends are afraid of him. Of his mood swings, his unpredictability. He doesn’t care. In fact, he prefers it this way. They weren’t like him, they were weak-minded, beneath him. He kept them around because of semantics, because of who their parents were and who his dad was. And because they proved to be minorly useful sometimes when he needed help to get shit done.
All the girls he’d been with had been afraid of him too. When he fucked them, he often lost control. But it turned him on, how they’d swallow their fear in case they offended him, or set him off. Once, he’d fucked a girl who just wouldn’t stop shaking. Sure, he’d showed her his gun right before he’d bent her over, but it was her problem if she was frightened by something as mundane as that.
You weren’t scared of him. Yet. Intimidated, sure. But he’d kept that side of him well under wraps when it came to you. You were too sweet, too pure. And you were a good girl, incapable of crossing him in any form. He didn’t have to scare you to get what he wanted from you. No, you’d give it to him, like the good little girl you were. Naïve, innocent little girl.
*
Rafe: Hey.
Y/N: Hi, Rafe. How are you?
He finds himself smiling at his screen. There’s a party going on downstairs, but Rafe couldn’t care less. It’s the same thing every other night. His friends showing up at his house and bringing along a whole entourage of people he doesn’t give a fuck about. Sarah used to do it a lot before she moved out, invite her fuck ass Pogue friend group into his house as if they were ever welcome there.
Rafe didn’t want any Pogues inside his house. Unless they were girls that he intended to sleep with. But he appreciated it when they showed themselves out once he was done using them.
Rafe: What are you up to?
A minute passes by, then another one. Fuck, he hates that you’re making him wait. What a fuckin’ tease. He wonders for the hundredth time if you’re doing it on purpose. No, not you. You’re too innocent.
Y/N: Nothing, I just finished cleaning my room. Wbu?
It’s insane how the visual of that gets his dick hard in less than a second. The thought of you doing something as domestic as cleaning. The good little college girl, who went home straight after school and spent her evenings dusting and vacuuming or whatever it was that cleaning entailed. Unlike the Kook sluts his friends were probably fucking downstairs. They were pathetic party girls who’d easily spread their legs for a line or two.
He calls you, losing patience with this texting bullshit. He runs a hand through his hair impatiently when you don’t immediately pick up, huffing and gulping down the remaining whiskey in his glass. Slamming it down on his desk when you still don’t pick up. Fucking tease. He grabs a baggie from one of the drawers, prepares a neat line; despite promising himself he wouldn’t do it tonight. Fuck that. Ten seconds have passed; you still haven’t picked up. He snorts it quickly, about to throw his phone out the fucking window, except you choose that moment to pick up.
“H-Hello?”
“Hi,” he sounds slightly breathless, but who the fuck cared. He refills his glass with more whiskey, taking a sip to calm himself down. “Took your time to pick up, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say hastily, “I got distracted.”
He feels a sudden surge of jealousy so violent, he doesn’t know how to act for a moment. Distracted by fucking what?
“The lights went out, so I had to go reset them,” you explain, and he barks out a laugh. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Y-You sound kinda breathless, Rafe,” you say, “Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” He downs his drink and sets it aside before his hand slips down. God, you sound so hot. All breathy and innocent, even just over the phone. “Tell me what you were doing.”
A pause, and then you force out a chuckle, “I told you, I just finished cleaning.”
“What like vacuuming and shit?”
“Yes.”
Over the years, Rafe had slept with a number of maids Ward had hired on multiple occasions. He’d fucked Wheezie’s babysitter a few years ago, the housekeeper too. His father had a knack for hiring hot Pogue girls, and maybe that’s where Rafe’s kink for them started.
He could imagine you working for him – he’d make you wear the sexiest little barely-there maid outfit. You wouldn’t question it because you were too innocent. With your little feather duster, trying to clean except you’d be too small to reach certain areas. Fuck, he wouldn’t last five seconds in the same room as you. And he wouldn’t have to because you’d be his hired help, his property. He’d have you bent over his desk, fuck you so hard till you couldn’t stop shaking, till you were crying like a baby and apologising for not focusing on cleaning all while he carried you up to his bedroom. Locked you up in there so nobody else could see you. His girl. All his.
“Uh, Rafe?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says.
A pause.
“Really?” You clear your throat, “Where are you? I can hear music.”
“Shit, yeah. Like, there’s a party or whatever going on downstairs. My friends came over unannounced.”
“Oh.” He can sense a level of dejection in your tone. He bets you’re thinking about it, thinking how it’s just a reminder that he has his own group of Kook friends. And you’d never be one of them. You’d never truly fit in. You were either one or the other. Hell, Sarah had proven that when she’d transitioned into the slums. But maybe there was a way to bring you into his world, a way that would stick.
He has to forcibly shake his head to remind himself you’re just part of a stupid bet.
“I’d rather speak to you than them.”
“That’s not true, Rafe.”
“I like how you say my name.” He’s palming his dick now, knowing he’s treading over the line and could easily scare you off now if he’s not careful. But fuck being careful. He’s never really been careful before in his life. He hasn’t had to be. “An’ I’m serious. I told you, I like you.”
“Rafe, I… I just can’t shake the feeling that–”
“That what?” He spits into his palm before resuming touching himself. And shit, he doesn’t know if it’s the drugs or if it’s really just the sound of your voice that’s got him so goddamned horny. He wonders if you’ve ever touched yourself before. If you even knew how to.
“That you’re just playing a big joke on me. I mean, even the people from the Cut think I’m this weird, homeschooled freak.” You laugh, but he can tell you don’t find it funny, “It’s just hard to believe that you’d want to be my friend.”
“They think I’m a freak too,” he says, being honest for once. “Only difference is they don’t talk shit about me because they know I’d kill them.”
“You’re funny, Rafe.”
You’re too innocent to realise he’s not kidding. Not in the least.
“And if anyone says anything about you, I’ll kill them too. I’m serious.” Fuck, he feels like his dick’s gonna goddamn explode. The thought of protecting you like that, like he was responsible for you. Like you were all cute and helpless and he was the one taking care of shit, the one protecting you. That’s all he’s done his whole life, take care of shit and get shit done. And nobody’s ever fucking appreciated him for it.
“Well, thank you, Rafe. I’ve never had anyone stick up for me like that.”
He likes how you keep saying his name now that he’s told you he likes it when you say it. Means you’d be real good at taking instructions. He can imagine telling you what to do when he finally has you in his bed. Order you to get on your hands and knees. Then he’d spread your cute little ass, eat you from the back while you moaned his name over and over, thanking him for taking care of you, weeping how much you appreciate him, how much he means to you. How much you need him.
“A-Are you still there?”
“Shit, yeah. Yeah, I am.” His dick’s red and painfully hard, and he’s still trying to pump it steadily but now he’s imagining your tight little virgin cunt wrapped around it. Soft like velvet, warm and wet. Pulsating around him. Never had even a finger up there but you’d take his big dick, because he owned you, because he was your protector, because you were too weak and helpless without him, and–
“Could you, uh, fuck, say my name again,” he orders you, not caring in the least if he scares you off.
“Rafe?”
He cums into his fist like a goddamned teenage boy, biting down to keep from making any noise. God fucking dammit, you’d listened again. What a good fucking girl. He wants to tell you that, tell you how good you were for him just now, how obedient and submissive you were without even realising it.
“If you’re busy, it’s okay and you can go,” you say softly.
“No, wait…” he clears this throat, grabbing a bunch of tissues from his desk. He can’t believe you hadn’t caught on to him jacking off. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to come over tomorrow? To hang out?”
“Like, uh, at your house?”
“Yeah.” He needs you in private, needs you on his turf where he can control just about everything. God, was it even about the bet anymore? Or just this newfound fucking irrevocable need to fuck you just for his own personal satisfaction? Maybe both.
“I don’t know, I’ve never been to a guy’s house before.”
That just makes him even more determined to be your first.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can go after your classes finish or whatever, and I’ll drive you home afterwards.”
“Rafe…”
He shuts his eyes for a moment, savouring the sound of your voice. He wonders if he can get you to call him daddy. God fucking dammit, just the idea of that was getting him hard again.
“Look, we’ll order some food, watch TV. Whatever you want. It’ll be fun. And it’s what friends do.”
That last part gets to you. He can tell. He knows how badly you want to have friends. He knows you’ve never had any. Not good, permanent ones like you saw in movies and TV shows. Hell, Rafe’s not sure he himself has real friends. But he doesn’t care. The idea of friendship means nothing to him. He’s best when he’s on his own because nobody else could be trusted. But what is important is having a girl like you in his bed. A girl like you who looks up to him with shining eyes, like he’s your goddamned entire world. A girl he plucked up from poverty and saved, and you’d appreciate him more than anyone in his dumb fucking family ever did.
“Say yes,” he all but orders you, but he already knows the answer before you say it.
“O-Okay, yeah. Yes, that sounds like fun. I’d love to come.”
*
“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Topper frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, “You were supposed to bring the, you know…”
Rafe rolls his eyes, wondering why he’s friends with a fucking loser who can’t even say the word coke. That’s why nobody on the goddamned island wanted to sell to Topper. Hell, even Barry refused to.
“I have plans.” Rafe answers, checking his watch for the tenth time. Your final class of the day was due to end any minute now, and he couldn’t wait to get you into his house.
“What plans? You were gonna help me with Sarah tonight.” Topper was a whiny fucking bitch, but even Rafe had to admit he was a better fit for his sister than that lowlife John B.
“I’m not helping you with shit, man.” He mutters disinterestedly, although he had promised a few nights ago that he’d help him. He’d been high as a fucking kite, though. So it didn’t exactly count. “Look, she’ll get bored eventually when she realises his broke ass can’t provide shit for her. Then she’ll come crawling back.”
Topper shakes his head, “No, Sarah’s not materialistic like that.”
Rafe smirks, “You don’t know her.”
“Well, speaking of broke, how’s it going with that homeschool girl? You guys sure seem to be hanging out a lot.”
“Do you have brain damage, Topper?”
“What?”
Rafe corners his friend against a wall, relishing the immediate fear in his eyes, “I seem to remember you placing a bet a week ago.”
“Well, yeah, but –”
“So why the fuck,” he hits the locker lightly behind Topper’s head, “are you asking me about hanging out with her a lot?”
“Chill, dude. It’s just,” he looks hesitant, scared as he’s barely able to make eye contact, “It’s okay if you like her, you know?”
Rafe feels a wave of emotion, something he can’t quite pinpoint. And that makes him mad, because what the fuck was he feeling? He has to clench his fists by his side to stop from slapping the taste out of Topper’s mouth. Why did him bringing you up irritate him so much? Jesus, reign it the fuck in.
He takes a deep breath and steps back, forcing a chuckle, “You think I’m gonna slum it like that?”
Topper grins nervously, as if Rafe hadn’t had him pinned against a locker like a little bitch just a second ago. He straightens up, “I mean, it’s not exactly a secret what your type is.”
Rafe laughs, and Topper relaxes and joins in after a moment or two. That’s when Rafe slams him against the locker again.
“Get it through your thick fucking skull, Topper. I may fuck a Pogue but I’d never date one. Got that?”
“Yes, okay, Jesus Christ, man.” Topper pushes Rafe off him and backs off, “Do whatever the fuck you want.”
That’s when Rafe starts laughing again. “I will, pussy.”
Topper fucks off after that. Sometimes, Rafe wonders what his deal is. He acted up in front of the rest of the group, then tried to act all sensitive and understanding in private. Like Rafe had time for that shit. And how dare Topper insinuate that Rafe had feelings for you? Hell would freeze over before he ever caught feelings for a Pogue.
He realises a bunch of people are staring at him. Goddamit. Fuck all of them. When he was younger, Ward had sent him to see a therapist once a week. He’d quit going once he’d realised it was everyone else who was the problem, and not him. But one thing the shrink had taught him that had stuck was to breathe slowly and count to ten whenever he felt angry or overwhelmed.
That’s what he’s doing when you arrive.
“Hey, Rafe. I’m sorry I’m late. The professor held me back.”
“Why?” He barks out before he can contain himself. He’s already on edge, and now some dumbass professor is keeping you back in class because you undoubtedly get his old, shrivelled dick hard and you’re too innocent to even realise it.
You blink, “He really liked the essay I submitted last week. He even said he wants to use it as an example for his other classes!”
“That’s great,” Rafe plasters a smile on his face but he’s only half listening, “Let’s go.”
He calms down some as he guides you out of the hallway and toward the parking lot. He almost grabs your hand when it gets a bit too crowded, but remembers himself just in time. He couldn’t be caught holding hands with a Pogue. It was too intimate, and like he’d said to Topper, he’d never let it get to that point with a Pogue. Instead, he places his hand on your lower back and pushes you forward. You smile at him, and it goes straight to his… well, not his dick, surprisingly. But it goes somewhere within him, and he feels it again. Something he doesn’t really recognise or know how to deal with. So he forcibly pushes it back inside himself.
“You look cute,” he says once he’s got you outside and there’s more room to breathe. You look like an angel in the afternoon sunlight, dressed in the cutest little sundress he’s ever seen. It’s this pinkish-orange, like the colour of the sunset, and you’ve got matching ribbons in your hair. Like you’ve really made an effort to get all dressed up just to go to his house.
“Thanks,” you look down as if you’re embarrassed, like you don’t know how to take a compliment, “It’s my mom’s dress.”
“It’s really pretty,” he says softly, before clearing his throat and looking away.
He gets you to his car, lifting you up by your waist and helping you into it. And that turns him on so much, how small and sweet you look. Like a little fairy in his arms. None of the other girls were like you. Not at all. He wonders what you’re wearing underneath, and feels his cock thicken in his slacks with anticipation when he realises he was probably going to find out today.
You don’t say anything when he pulls up into the driveway of his house. Ward had fucked off on some business trip and taken Wheezie and Rose with him so he had the place to himself. That’s how he liked it best, it gave him space to think and breathe without the constant noise of his family. Well, Wheezie was an exception. He didn’t mind her too much.
“Wait here,” he says, getting out the car and walking around to open the door for you. You allow him to lift you out again, this time your hands landing on his shoulders. And it’s fucking insane how that tiny, voluntary touch does things to him that no other girl has ever done before.
Now, he doesn’t think twice before grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the large, ornate wooden double doors. You’re distracted anyways, eyes wide as saucers as you ogle the mansion that Rafe’s never thought twice about. But he reckons it’s a step or two above whatever shacks the people from the Cut lived in, so he allows you to remain silent and let it sink in.
Finally, you exhale slowly, “This is… uh… wow. I can’t believe there’s people in this world who live like this.”
Rafe smirks, squeezing your hand, “Yeah. Do you want a drink?”
He leads you to the bar in the corner of the living room, again lifting you up and placing you on one of the stools. You giggle, “I can climb on myself, you know.”
“Yeah? You seem to like it when I pick you up, though.”
He winks, and notes how you duck your head and smile shyly, your hands wringing together on your lap like you’re nervous. God, you were so fucking cute.
“What’s your usual drink of choice?” He asks, going behind the island to inspect the liquor. His friends had gone through a lot of it at the party the night before, but the house help had restocked everything this morning.
You blink, “Um, water?”
He stifles a laugh, pouring himself his usual whiskey with ice, “You’re a good girl, huh?”
“I tried some of my mom’s wine once but it tasted horrible,” you shrug, “I don’t know why people like it so much.”
“Try this.” He pours you a Peach Schnapps with lemonade and ice, “It’s sweet like you.”
You hesitate, but end up taking it. And he watches as you take a tentative sip, and he knows you like it because you take another one. And then another. He can’t help but feel proud for introducing you to your first alcoholic drink.
“You’re not as bad as people say you are,” you say out of nowhere, and his expression immediately sours.
“People have been talking about me to you?”
“No, it’s just the stuff I’ve heard. Like what I told you before. But it can’t be true, because you’re so nice to me so it just doesn’t add up.”
He grips his glass tight, about to lose it because yet again people were talking shit about him behind his back and never to his fucking face. Because they were all a bunch of pussies who knew he’d beat the shit out of them or kill them if they said anything to his face. But then you speak again.
“Do you always drink after school?”
“Huh?”
“Like, alcohol. Do you drink a lot? Like every day?”
“No.” He lies. “Only sometimes.”
He takes you out to the patio, where the sun is shining and you look so fucking pretty in your little sundress. Like you fit right into his world, next to the pool with a drink in your hand, sat next to him and looking at him with sparkling eyes as if he was your god. He wonders if you’ve naturally grown more comfortable with him through the course of the week, or if it’s just the alcohol. Probably the alcohol, since no one was ever really comfortable around him.
Either way, he puts his hand on your leg just like he had a few days ago in his car. Your breath hitches, but you don’t make a move to stop him. Instead, you opt to take another sip of your drink, and he wonders if he can get you drunk tonight. Shit, did he even want to? It was no fun fucking a drunk girl.
“Tell me more about you,” he strokes the soft skin of your bare thigh, feeling your goosebumps underneath the pads of his fingers. “You ever had a boyfriend or anything?”
Your eyes widen, “No. I, uh, you don’t tend to meet any guys when you’re homeschooled.” Embarrassed, you giggle before looking away. He reaches out, grabbing your chin lightly and making you look at him again. Fuck, your lips were so sexy. So pouty and perfect, begging to be kissed. “What about…what about you? Have you had any girlfriends?”
He shrugs, “A few.”
You nod, “Of course you have. That was a stupid question. Sorry, I forget not everyone’s as far behind in life as I am.”
“You’re not far behind.” He says, although you are and he prefers it that way.
“I am. Every other girl my age has had all the experiences you’re supposed to have. Drinking, partying, boys, all of it.” You sigh, “Sometimes I feel like I’m so far behind that I’ll never catch up.”
Rafe inches his hand upwards, till he reaches the hem of your dress halfway up your thigh. He plays with the fabric, and he can tell you’re acutely aware of what he’s doing. You don’t make a move to stop him, but you do press your legs together.
“There’s still plenty of time to catch up,” he says softly, “I can help you.”
You smile up at him, holding up your drink, “You already have. I’d never drank with friends before now.”
“Congratulations,” he says, clinking his glass with yours, “To one of many firsts.”
He downs his drink and so do you, and he’s quick to get a refill for both of you. He’s guessing you’re a lightweight, and again the thought of getting you drunk crosses his mind. But that would be way too easy.
“I’m capping you after this one,” he says, handing you your second Peach Schnapps.
You giggle, “Are you gonna cap yourself too?”
“No.” He chucks you under the chin again, “But, see, I’m not a baby.”
“Hey!”
He kisses you. And shit, he hadn’t planned on catching you so off-guard. Hell, he’s caught himself off-guard. But he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help how kissable your lips looked, all pouty and bitten. And you taste like cherry lip gloss mixed with peaches and lemonade, and you’re so pliant underneath him, and he’s kissed a shit ton of girls but it’s never felt like this.
You pull away with a start, shocked as you stare up at him. Breathing hard and biting your goddamned lips before they turn into the shape of an o.
“I’m sorry,” Rafe says, although he’s not, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I first saw you.”
Your breathing is shallow, and with a shaky hand you put your glass down on the crystal table in front of you. “I’ve never, uh, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
“Well, it’s easy. I could show you.”
You swallow, “I don’t want this to be like, a pity thing.”
Rafe exhales slowly, “You’re here in front of me in this tiny fuckin” dress, acting all cute and innocent and you think I want to kiss you out of pity?”
Your jaw drops, “Hey, it’s not tiny!”
He kisses you again. And sure, maybe he should’ve asked permission since it’s, well, your first kiss. But frankly he’s never had to ask permission to do anything in his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start now. The way he sees it, you wouldn’t have worn a slutty dress and agreed to come to his house if you didn’t want him to make a move on you.
Again, you pull away, “Rafe, I– don’t… I don’t know how to kiss, I’m sorry–”
He cups your face in his hands, pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours again. Just to feel your soft, quivering lips against his confident ones. He kisses you once, twice, three times. Coaxing you to open your mouth, to let him in. Fuck, a part of him just wants to shove his tongue down your fucking throat, show you what it means to really be kissed. But he’s already pushing his luck right now.
“I’ll teach you,” he says, “But you need to do exactly what I say, okay?”
He can’t believe his goddamned luck when you nod. God, you were just so fucking hot, prancing around his house in your little dress, all impressed by his riches and shit, drinking your drink he made you like a good little girl, and now here you were, agreeing to whatever he said.
He taps his leg, “Get on my lap.”
Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “Wh-What?”
Rafe smirks, “Didn’t you just agree to do exactly what I say?”
He’s surprised with the amount of patience he has with you. If you were another girl, he’d have thrown your ass out to the curb for asking too many annoying questions. Or bent you over, shoved your face into a pillow to shut you up and had his way with you. God knew he’d done that more times than he could count over the years. He was aware of how much bigger and stronger he was than you and every other girl, and that fact turned him on more than anything. The fact that he could, if he wanted to, completely take advantage of you however he wanted. And all you’d be able to do is cry and beg him to stop, which would just turn him on more.
“I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t–”
Easily, he grabs your hips and lifts you up onto his lap, makes you straddle him with one leg on either side of him. Your dress is just about long enough to still cover your modesty, but now he’s acutely aware of your panty-covered pussy just inches away from reach. Fuck, he wonders what kind of panties you’re wearing, and if you’d let him look…
“There. Comfy?”
“Well, I guess, but…”
He pulls you into another kiss, this time catching you mid-sentence so he’s able to slip his tongue into your mouth. And you’re so fucking shy, just rigid while he explores your mouth. But he doesn’t mind. You taste so fucking sweet, and it’s getting him so hard, knowing he’s the first man you’ve let touch you like this, kiss you like this.
He can feel your breath hitch as he strokes your face, his thumbs running across your cheeks before his hand tangles into your hair. He yanks you closer, grazing his teeth against your plump bottom lip. You gasp, and he chuckles into your open mouth. His tongue plays with yours, coaxing you to kiss him back, but not really caring too much if you don’t.
And god, he wants to thrust up into you so bad. You’re sitting right on top of his fucking hard dick, and you don’t even seem to realise it. In fact, you shift around, that cute little peachy ass rubbing against his boner, and he wonders if you even know what a boner is.
When you pull away this time, your eyes are bright and excited. And he loves how he’s kissed the gloss off your lips, and how he can still taste you on his tongue.
“Wow, that was…” you giggle, breathless yet excited from finally having your first kiss, “I don’t have anything to compare it to, but that was good!”
Rafe has to crack a smile at your innocence, and his hand lands on your bare thigh, tracing his initials on it again, “Yeah? You like kissing me?”
“I…um… yeah I do,” you say shyly, before closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, “Could we uh, could we try again? Could I try?”
Well, shit. He’s never devoted this much time and energy into just kissing a girl, but his dick grows even harder at how you’ve plucked up the courage to ask him that. And so he simply nods and sits back, lets you figure out what it is you want to do.
Your cute little hands hold on to his broad shoulders shyly. And you lean up, fluttering your eyes closed like it’s some kind of fairytale for you and you’re the little princess kissing her prince charming. It’s part enamouring, part pathetic. But Rafe feels it again, that unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest. He shakes out of it, focusing on your plump lips that hesitantly press against yours.
He sits still; lets you explore his mouth. Your tongue pokes out, swipes against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick. And then he’s kissing you back, because he doesn’t have the goddamned willpower to just sit there and do nothing. There’s an animal inside of him and you’ve awoken it, more than any drug or alcohol ever could.
And he gets rougher, biting your lip till you gasp into his mouth. His hands slip up and down your bare arms before he takes your hand, squeezes it before pressing it down on his chest, wanting you to touch him, feel how much bigger he is than you.
“Good girl,” he mutters when you don’t move your hand, and then he fingers the hem of your dress. “Gonna let me touch you a little bit?”
“Rafe, maybe not too much–”
“C’mon, princess, you have to touch while you’re making out, right? That’s lesson number two.” He distracts you with another rough kiss, grabbing your jaw and squeezing while he brings you closer to his mouth. Kissing down your jaw and neck before returning to your lips, smirking when you squeak out a little involuntary moan. That’s when he slips his hand up your dress and cups your ass. Perfect little handful of your bubble butt, and he gives it a little squeeze to test the waters. You’re too distracted with kissing him, and so he squeezes harder. God, so fuckin’ soft and pliable, just like how he’d imagined.
“Nice ass,” he murmurs against your lips, and that’s what jolts you out of it. He curses inwardly when you pull away, pushing against his chest when he doesn’t immediately stop. And a part of him knows how easy it would be to just pin you down on this fucking sofa and have his way with you. Tell you how it’s your fault for wearing this fucking dress, your fault for seducing him in his own home, acting so sexy and innocent and getting him so riled up. Teasing him with your shy little kisses and squeaks till he had no choice but to hold you down and fuck you.
“I’m sorry,” you say as you slide off his lap, straightening your dress, “I just… I got overwhelmed.”
He blinks, and he’s this close to pulling you back on top of him, telling you he didn’t give you permission to stop, that you had to listen to him because this was his house and he’d been kind enough to invite you over. And he could make you feel so good, if you just stopped being a goddamned little prude.
Instead, he forces a smile, “You’re a pretty good kisser for someone who claims she’s never done it before.”
You beam, relaxing immediately, “Oh, you’re just saying that. I bet I was really bad.”
“My memory’s kinda foggy, I think you’re gonna have to remind me,” he pulls you back into him, and you giggle as he presses light kisses on your lips, his arm going around your shoulders while your hands tangle into his hair.
It doesn’t go any further than that, though. You stop him when he tries to touch you again, and a part of him wants to slam his fist down on the glass patio table in frustration. And yet, something stops him from just overpowering you and taking what he wants. No, that would be too easy. He’s about to crack you, he can tell from the way you look at him with those big eyes, now full of trust and comfort. He just needs more time.
Too bad he only had one day left to complete the goddamned bet.
“You should come over again,” he says when he’s done up your seatbelt for you in his car. He finds he likes doing all that shit – opening the door for you, lifting you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt into place, all of it. A stark difference from other girls, where often he’s tossed their clothes at them and motioned for them to leave after he’s done hooking up with them.
“That sounds nice,” you say, waiting for him to come round and get into the driver’s seat, “And I told you; you don’t have to drive me all the way home. I could’ve just got the bus.”
He blinks. He didn’t realise buses even functioned in Figure 8, but either way, he can’t have you on a public bus. Especially not in that dress, where every man would be leering at you and you’d be none the wiser about it. The control freak in him is itching to be let out, to tell you exactly what you were and weren’t allowed to wear in public, tell you how you weren’t allowed to speak to any men except him. And you weren’t allowed to argue or contest any of this, because he was in charge of you now, and–
“No buses,” he says firmly, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as he drives, “Anyways, come over again tomorrow. We can go in the pool or whatever.”
He feels you go rigid, “Th-The pool?”
He glances at you, “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
You laugh nervously, “Uh, I’m not too great with water. I don’t really swim or anything.”
Rafe has to do a double-take, “You realise you live on an island?”
Even he knew that every child born in Kildare could swim before they could even walk. It’s just the way it was. They were surrounded by water. Rafe doesn’t even remember learning how to swim; it was almost like he knew how to do it by default.
“I know how to swim, I just don’t like water,” you say, and there’s something off about your tone. Something he can’t pinpoint, but you turn to the side and look out the window. Silent for the rest of the drive. Rafe doesn’t push it, although your odd behaviour has piqued his curiosity.
It’s only when he’s pulling up into the pitiful dirt road of a street where your house is situated that you clear your throat.
“Look, Rafe, you’re my friend now. And I don’t really like keeping secrets from you. I’m sorry I was so quiet just now.”
Cute. He likes how much you apologise to him. It shows how respectful you are, how much you respected him as an authority figure.
“That’s okay,” he says.
You take a deep breath, “I used to go out in the water a lot when I was younger. With my dad. He had a boat, and I would help him. But…”
Your voice trails off for a moment. Rafe thinks he knows where this is going, and a part of him is touched you’d share something like this with him. A tiny, obscure part of him, that is. He can’t help but squeeze your leg reassuringly, and you clear your throat again and blink several times. Like you’re trying not to cry. And Rafe’s never had the patience for emotional chicks, but it’s different with you.
You force out a little laugh, “I don’t want to go into details. But one time we were out pretty far, and the weather was bad. Like, really bad. The waves were rough and…” You swallow, looking down into your lap and wringing your hands together, your chest rising and falling rapidly, “And… Well, I was fine but… my dad…”
Shaking your head, you don’t say anymore. You don’t have to. Your eyes are wet and glistening, the muscles in your face working overtime to stop the tears from coming out. He parks the car in front of your house, turning to face you. He’s never been in a situation like this before, and he’s not sure how to act.
Fiercely, you wipe away the one or two rogue tears that have escaped down your cheeks, “It happened so long ago, I barely remember it. But I’ve been scared of the water ever since.”
He nods, “It’s just you and your mom now?”
“Yes. And my brothers. But they’re always working, so it’s just me and her. That’s why she’s so protective of me… I, uh, I don’t have a dad anymore.”
Rafe knows what it’s like to lose a parent, but he can’t fathom ever talking about it or voicing his feelings on it or some shit like that. His loser therapist had tried to get him to talk about his mother, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. It was just muscle memory at this point, to force any thoughts of her straight out of his mind. It was easier that way. And now, it was like he could barely remember her. And he hated it, but it made it easier too.
He’s never been good at comforting anyone else. And a part of him is glad you’re not sobbing your eyes out right now, because he’s not sure how he’d handle that. So he’s happy when you clear your throat again and smile up at him.
“I’m not sure why I told you that, I’ve never had a friend to tell that to before. I guess I just feel comfortable with you, Rafe.”
What the hell had he done to make you so trusting of him in the span of less than a week? God, you were like an innocent little angel, sitting in his car all tiny and vulnerable. Making him feel like a goddamned fucking monster for the thoughts he had towards you, what he planned to do with you. Suddenly, the bet feels so stupid and insignificant. God, this was why Rafe didn’t speak to the women he fucked. They went all emotional on him, and now he wasn’t sure how to act.
“I feel comfortable around you too,” he says carefully. He’s never been great with his words, but he grabs your hands that continue to wring nervously together. His big, warm hand dwarfing your tiny ones, and he realises you’re shaking. And there’s a part of him that wants to protect you against everything. Take you back to his place, lock you up in his room so he could keep an eye on you and keep you away from anything and anyone who could ever hurt you and make you cry.
Even if the only person who could hurt you the most right now is Rafe himself.
You leave after that, thanking him again and again for giving you a lift home. He wants to walk you to your door, but you run off quickly, and his mind’s too distracted to follow you. He drives off once he sees you’ve safely closed your front door behind you, his mind moving a million miles per minute.
Jesus Christ, why’d you have to go and open up to him like that? This would be so much fucking easier if you hadn’t done that. He hates that he should know better, that he knows that he should leave you alone. You were too innocent, too vulnerable for his bullshit; to be caught in the middle of some dumbass bet he’d made with his friends. God dammit, he hates himself for agreeing to that stupid bet, seems so fucking juvenile looking back. Wished he’d picked a different girl at the very least, someone not as lovely a you.
Most of all, he hates himself because he knows that despite everything he’s just found out about you, he still has every intention of fucking you. Daddy issues and a phobia of water. It was almost like fate was handing you to him on a silver platter. He had to fuck you. He’d figure out the rest later.
*
Kelce: One day left, loverboy.
Topper: Can’t wait to see the pictures.
Rafe mutes the groupchat before throwing his phone aside. He’d goddamn throttle his friends if they were in front of him right now. Sometimes, he gets these violent tendencies. He doesn’t really know what to make of them except it feels good to have some kind of release. Usually that comes in the form of pushing around a sorry ass Pogue, but that option’s not really available right now.
Instead, he searches blindly for the coke he’s stashed in his bedside drawer. Again, he’d promised himself he’d cut down, but this was just to take the edge off. It didn’t count. Not really.
He wonders what you’d think if you knew how often he took drugs. Well, you wouldn’t because he’d keep you well away from that part of his life. Even when he made you his girlfriend, he’d keep you separate from all the partying. And he’d never allow you to even look at any type of Class A drug. And who knows, maybe he’d become better for you, maybe he’d go stone cold sober if you wanted him to.
That makes him laugh. Going sober for a Pogue. It was insane of him to even consider it.
Again, he has to remind himself to take his emotions out of it. All you were was a stupid Pogue, and a part of a bet he was going to goddamned fulfil. And he wouldn’t allow himself to think anything more of it. He may have had a momentary lapse of judgement yesterday, but today was a new day, the last day of the week he had to fuck you.
How? He wasn’t too sure. Reports of a storm meant you couldn’t come to his house again like how he’d planned. Even now, Rafe could hear the harrowing winds outside. Like a goddamned cyclone. And the rain pelting down unforgivingly, and the distant roar of the sea, waves crashing like they’d taken on a life of their own.
The weather on the island was usually all sunshine, but once in a blue moon a storm would hit like now. Residents were always told to wait it out and stay inside. For Rafe, that meant copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. Sometimes a girl or two to keep him company. But the idea of fucking anyone that isn’t you right now makes him sick.
He thinks about texting you, but what would be the goddamned point? If he couldn’t physically be with you today? He knows the weak, pussy part of his mind just wants to talk to you in whatever form he can. But he needs to bury that bullshit down deep inside him and never back, and–
His phone vibrates. It’s you. And he hates how he feels his heart jump to his fucking throat. You’ve called him all on your own, which means you were thinking about him like how he was thinking about you.
“Rafe?” You sound sexy like you always do, all breathy and weak and needy. A bit panicked too.
“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, “What’s up?”
“Hey, calm down.” Rafe barely recognises the gentle quality of his voice as he straightens up, “What’s wrong, princess?”
“I’m scared.”
You say it so softly, with an air of embarrassment and shame, that at first he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying. But then he does, and something kicks in inside him. This innate need to protect you. You sound so small and needy on the phone, and you called him. You need him.
“What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
“No, no. Oh, Rafe, it’s the storm. It keeps getting worse.”
He chuckles in relief that you weren’t in any immediate danger, “Well, shit. Yeah. Looks pretty wild, huh?”
“I hate it,” you whimper softly, “and I’m sorry I called. But my mom’s stuck at work, and my brothers are crashing somewhere else. So it’s just me, and, and…”
“Hey, calm down. It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” He’s never had to comfort anyone before, but it comes naturally with you. “As long as you stay inside, the storm should pass. Just watch TV or something.”
“The lights are gonna go off any second,” you sniffle, “They always do when the weather gets bad.”
They did? Rafe never noticed shit like that. Then again, he doubts you had the luxury of backup generators where you lived. He pauses.
“Gimme twenty minutes. I’ll come over.”
“No!” You say quickly, “Rafe, it’s too dangerous.”
He snorts. He’d been in far more dangerous situations than a little bad weather. But the less you knew about that, the better. “I think I’ll be okay, princess.”
“B-But we’re not allowed out. You’ll get a fine.”
Rafe can’t count on one hand how many times he’d been fined by the dumbass police on this goddamned island over some petty bullshit reason or another. A fine meant nothing to someone with money. He was above the law, and most people on this island knew it.
“Stay put. I’ll see you soon.”
Rafe actually enjoys driving in the storm. The roads are deserted, and he can speed without worrying about anything else. And he does speed, and he runs more than one red light too. Gets to your house quicker than he thought he would. Past all the other tiny shacks all boarded up because they weren’t built well enough to withstand the storm.
“Rafe! You came!”
You sound like a fucking needy little baby, but something pulls at his heart when you hug him harder than you ever have before. And you’re so small, on your tippy toes so your arms reach around his neck. Automatically, his arms wind around your waist and he holds you close, and he can feel you trembling, your face buried in his chest as you hold on to him tightly.
“Yeah. Roads were empty. Didn’t take long.” He mutters, looking around the inside of your house. Pitiful. And pitch black, because you were right, the power had gone out. He hates that you live here. You’d fit in so much better at Tannyhill, in a pretty pink silk dressing gown and dripping with diamonds he’d buy for you. And you’d be so thankful for him, tell everyone that he saved you, how well he took care of you. How he gave you everything you could ever want, and how much you appreciated him.
At that moment, a clap of thunder makes you jump and squeal. Quickly, you pull him inside and shut the door. That’s when he notices that you’re crying.
“Hey, it’s okay. C’mere.” He pulls you into another hug, and he’s never seen another human being look so scared, so vulnerable. It makes him feel so powerful, like the man he knew you needed. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”
It feels natural, his lips pressing a kiss into your hairline. Like you’re his little baby, like he’s been trusted with something so precious and now he has to protect you. And you’re too scared to be your usual jumpy self, and you just snuggle closer into him. A flash of lightning lights up the whole room, the storm relentless against the weak confines of this sorry excuse of a house.
“Maybe we should head back to mine.” He suggests, but you whimper again.
“No, no, we can’t go out there. It’s not safe. Rafe, please.”
He doesn’t think he’s ever seen another human being so scared before. Not even when he was fucking that one girl after he’d showed her his gun. Even now, he consciously tucks his gun further down the waistband of his chinos. Of course he’d brought it with him, he wasn’t going to enter the Cut without a piece on him.
“Okay, okay. We’ll stay here. When’s your mom coming home?”
“Not till tomorrow once the storm’s died down.”
He licks his lips. It was too good to be true.
You’re still holding on to him as you lead him into your bedroom. He wonders why you’d take him straight there, but he guesses it’s your safe place. And you’ve got candles lit up, and they brighten the room enough for him to notice how small it is. The size of a shoebox, with a single bed covered in pink sheets and a bunch of stuffed animals.
Despite everything, his dick hardens.
“You’re a really good friend, Rafe.” You say honestly, “Nobody else would’ve come over like this.”
He shrugs, sitting on the edge of your bed and patting the mattress next to him. It’s not even his house and yet he feels like he needs to take control. And you obey, taking a seat next to him. But you’re preoccupied with your own fear, doing that thing where you fidget with your hands in your lap.
“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.”
You look up at him with wide eyes, biting your lip like you can’t quite believe what he’s said, “I-I’m not special, Rafe, I–”
You’re cut off by another clap of thunder, this one so loud it makes the whole house shake. You scream bloody murder, and honestly, if you were anyone else Rafe would’ve laughed. But it’s you, and so he just watches. It’s fascinating, the way you clutch onto him like he’s your saviour, and he wonders just how this opportunity had basically just fallen into his lap.
He pulls you into his lap, knowing you won’t protest. Not in the state you’re in. You’re wearing a pair of black leggings and a little white tank top. No bra, because he can feel your nipples, hard and poking out from the fabric of your top. He can feel them against his chest as he hugs you again, and he can also feel you shifting on top of him. Your peachy little ass rubbing against his dick like you’re a fucking tease except he knows you’re none the wiser, that you have no idea the effect you have on him.
He’s so turned on, it feels like he might explode.
“I’m sorry,” you apologise for the umpteenth time, “It’s just so scary. Wh-What if the storm gets worse, Rafe?”
“It probably will,” he says, feeling slightly wicked. He holds you tighter against him, wanting to feel the brush of your breasts against his chest again. Fuck, he wants to cop a feel so bad. “They were saying something about a severe weather warning on the news. Not like anything we’ve ever seen before.”
“Noooo,” you moan like a goddamned baby, cuddling into him even more.
“It’s okay,” he says, running his hand up and down your back, “You ever, uh, you ever think of distracting yourself from the storm?”
You hiccup and blink up at him with wet eyes, “Nothing works, Rafe.”
He smirks, “I could distract you.”
“H-How?”
He runs his thumb over your lips. They’re wet with your salty tears, and yet like muscle memory, you part them for him. You watch him in wonder, your breathing shallow as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, his other hand holding you in place by your hip.
“Suck.” He instructs gently, and your eyes are as big as saucers. But in your frightened, vulnerable state, you obey immediately. And it feels like he’ll bust a nut right there, watching as you suck his thumb on command like a little fucking baby. Like he’s your daddy.
“Good girl,” he says, stroking your hair out of your face so he can watch you better. “Now listen to me, I can help you. I can distract you so that you forget all about the storm. Do you want that?”
You nod slowly, almost like you’re entranced by him. Not that he needs the green light from you, but it’s hot to see you agree so easily to whatever he’s saying. Fuck, you really were just like an angel fallen straight from heaven and into his lap. Perfect for him in every single way. So soft, so impressionable. Completely untouched. Ready to be ruined.
“That’s good,” he mutters vaguely, thinking of everything he was going to do to you. He takes his thumb out of your mouth, noticing how you pout involuntarily, like you’d gotten used to the feeling of sucking on it. Fuck, he could give you something else to suck on. “Give me a kiss.”
“H-Huh–”
“Do it. Just like how I taught you yesterday. You remember our lesson, don’t you?”
You nod, “Yeah, but will that really work? I mean–”
It’s like God himself is on Rafe’s side because there’s a loud boom of thunder at that exact moment. And you jump in his lap, tears welling in your eyes. Your chest rises up and down, and you bite your lip again, your gaze zeroing in on his mouth. Slowly, you lean up, shyly pressing your lips on his. But there’s a desperation to it, and Rafe’s returning kiss completely envelopes you whole.
He makes out with you for a while, smirking through your little pants and moans mixed with a whimper every time the weather gets especially brutal outside. He’s never been with such a goddamned scaredy cat baby before in his entire life, and it turns him on beyond belief. In the state you’re in, he could get you to do anything.
Rafe’s hands slip up to grab your little top, tugging it upwards. And this time, he almost loses it in frustration when again, you stop him.
“Rafe, Rafe no stop.” You push his hands off, straightening your top back over your midriff. “Couldn’t we just… just kiss?”
He presses his lips together in a thin line, “You trust me?”
“Of course, I just don’t know if I want to–”
“Look, didn’t I say I would distract you? I mean, shit, I could just leave.”
Your jaw drops, a flash of fear glimmering in your eyes. Instinctively, you grab onto his bicep with your tiny hands, a pleading look on your face, “No, don’t!”
He smirks, “I won’t leave. But you need to trust me to do what I need to do to distract you. Because the storm’s just gonna get worse.” He grabs your chin when you avert your gaze, forcing you to look at him, “Hey, c’mon. Who has more experience with this shit, you or me?”
“Y-You.”
“Yeah. And who’s older?”
“You are.”
“That’s right. Which means you need to trust me to make these kinds of decisions, because I know what’s best for you. That’s why you called me over, right?”
You don’t say anything, but this time when he tries to take your top off, you don’t protest. And Jesus fucking Christ, he was right. You’re not even wearing a bra, almost like you were deliberately trying to seduce him. Acting like a whiny little damsel in distress, pulling him into your pitiful little pink room, all candlelit and shit, on your little bed with your stuffed fucking animals.
Your nipples are hard, and he can’t help but cup your breasts. They’re so tender, so soft just like you. He’d imagined this exact moment many times over the course of the week whilst he’d jacked off to you, but nothing could compare to now. The way you tremble beneath his touch, knowing no one’s ever touched you like this before. He squeezes gently, watching how your breath hitches.
He’s overcome with animalistic instinct in just a second, and leans down to take your breast into his mouth. Sucks your nipple sweetly, before biting down. You cry out, arching your back so prettily, feeding him more of your nipple as you push it into his mouth. He bets you probably don’t even understand why it feels so good, having never been touched like this ever before.
He pinches your other nipple and you gasp. He smirks and does it again, looking up at you to see you gazing imploringly down at him.
“Th-That hurts,” you say pitifully.
“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” He takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his hair. Like a good little girl, you get the message. Your hands fist into his hair as he continues to play with your tits, licking and sucking all over them, pushing them together, biting your nipples and sucking the sensitive skin around them, wanting to leave his mark everywhere.
“Rafe, I, that… oh… oh my–”
“Stand up, baby.”
You squeak at the pet-name that falls so naturally from his lips, and he can tell you like being called that. It’s from the way your eyes widen, and how you scramble to obey. God, you were a little tease but you took instructions so fucking well.
You stand between his legs, and it gets him so fucking hard that you’re still barely eye level with him even when he’s sat down.
“Take your leggings off.”
You open your mouth to argue, but this time he just flashes you a look and you’re quick to shut the fuck up. That, and he distracts you with his hands running up and down your sides, squeezing your waist, then your hip. Finally landing on your ass with a light slap as if to tell you not to keep him waiting.
You push your leggings down and step out of them, till you’re standing between his legs in just your pink flowery panties and nothing else. And he feels a hunger he’s never ever felt before, looking down at you ravenously as if you’re a piece of meat and he’s a goddamned starved lion. A part of him just wants to grab you and stick his cock inside you while you scream and thrash and beg him to stop while you secretly enjoy it and cum again and again.
“Turn around,” Rafe says slowly, because despite his animalistic thoughts, he wants to savour this. And you do, letting him see your sexy butt adorned in just your panties. He hooks his thumb under the elastic, snapping it against your skin and laughing crudely when you yelp. “God, you’ve got such a perfect ass. I knew that since the moment I saw you.”
“Wh-What?”
“You heard me. You’re always wearing the cutest little outfits, like you were showing it off just for me.” He grabs your left ass cheek, squeezing it hard while you moan in pain or pleasure, right now he doesn’t really give much of a fuck. His other hand palms his cock through his pants at the sight.
“I wasn’t!” You say indignantly, as if he’s accused you of the absolute worst. “I wasn’t showing off, Rafe!”
“Sure you weren’t,” he snorts, “Now bend over, lemme see it better.”
He can’t believe it when you don’t hesitate this time, almost like you’re seeking his approval. Like you’re under some kind of submissive spell now, making everything even easier for him. You bend over, and your cute little ass is directly in his face. He pushes your panties to the side, gives the soft flesh a feather-light kiss before spanking you again. You yelp all cutely, but stay in position for him. What a good fucking girl.
“Stand up straight, look at me again.”
You turn back around, biting your lip as you look at him anxiously. Around you, the whole room seems to vibrate as another boom of thunder strikes. You make a noise in your throat, before grabbing onto his bicep again. You keep doing that, and it makes him feel strong, big, important. Like you’re a little baby seeking protection from her daddy.
“I’m gonna take your panties off now, okay?” He doesn’t know why he tells you before he does it, but he watches as you relax. There’s a war going on behind your eyes, he can tell. He knows part of you is liking how he’s making you feel, and part of you is desperate to distract yourself from the storm, and it’s battling the part of you that wants to keep your modesty, the part that knows this is a bad idea, that itching fear that he’s not a good guy, that he’s taking advantage of you.
Slowly, he slips your panties down your shaking legs, and you keep holding on to his arm like you’re scared to let go. Like the storm would come and get you the moment you stopped holding him like a little baby. He lets you, liking how weak you feel against him.
And then you’re completely naked in front of him, stepping shyly out of your panties that are left on the floor in a heap along with the rest of your clothes. And he’s still fully dressed, and that juxtaposition turns him on beyond belief. He can smell your pussy, and it’s driving him crazy. Makes him want to just pin you down and have his way with you. It incenses him in a way he’s never really experiences before.
His hands grab your hips, yanking you closer. He feels a wave of impatience, pushing you down till you’re sitting on the bed. He gets up, pushing your legs apart with one of his own. You gasp, and he sinks down to his knees, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just below your belly button.
“It’s time for lesson number three, baby,” Rafe murmurs softly, “this is how I’m gonna distract you, okay? Shit, I’m gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget all about the storm. You gonna let me do that?”
You swallow, “H-How, Rafe?”
God, you were absolutely clueless. Made him feel like a fucking monster for taking advantage of you like this. But he liked it, liked how good and sweet and innocent you were, even now when he had you naked on your pretty princess bed with your legs spread for him.
“I’m gonna kiss you down here for a while, alright baby?”
“Down there?” You suck in your breath prettily, as if the very idea of that sounds so insane to you. God fucking dammit, just how much had your mother sheltered you?
Instead of explaining further, Rafe spreads your folds with two of his fingers, smirking when he sees you glistening and wet. And God, what a pretty and perfect pussy you had, all slippery and wet, like it was begging to be fucked. And even now, as you sit there breathing heavily, your pussy seems to get wetter just by him spreading it. You’re leaking down onto your pretty pink sheets, and it’s all because he’s merely touched you there.
You’ve gone silent, the storm seemingly already forgotten as you just watch him. Your chest rises up and down, and it’s like every other part of you is frozen in place. In awe, until he notices a slight movement in your pelvis. Involuntarily, you hump the air, like your poor pussy is begging for some type of contact or friction. He smirks.
“You have an accident, princess?”
You look absolutely aghast, “No!”
Rafe leans forward, inhaling deeply. And you smell so goddamned sweet, and he can’t wait any longer. He lays his tongue flat against your virgin cunt, and he can feel you throbbing with anticipation. He licks upwards, and you grab onto his hair, tugging hard as you yelp.
“Oh my God–”
He looks up, “Not God, baby. Just me.” Absentmindedly, he flicks your clit with his thumb and your entire body jerks. He chuckles, “And there’s another thing I’m going to need you to do.”
“What?”
“You’re going to call me daddy while I eat your cunt, okay?”
For the fifth time this evening, your jaw drops, and you gaze down at him in indignance, “What? But Rafe, you’re not my–”
“Your daddy? I mean, you do want me to take care of you, don’t you?” He smiles when you don’t immediately respond, “That’s why you called me today. Because you felt unsafe, like how you’ve felt your whole life ever since you lost your real daddy, isn’t that right?”
He half expects you to shove him off you, scream, lose it, slap him, kick him out of your house for going there, for trying to take advantage of your obvious daddy issues. But it’s like you’re in a trance, and he keeps going, “You want someone to take control, to reassure you that everything’s gonna be okay. That’s why you’ve let me take care of you this whole week, right? Because you need me, you like how I make you feel.”
He softly strokes your bare thighs, noticing that you’re shaking under his touch. And you look like you’re about to cry, in your most vulnerable state in front of him. And yet he keeps going, his voice like a calm lull, almost hypnotic with how you look at him with your huge, unblinking eyes.
“I can be your new daddy, princess. You’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”
Rafe doesn’t wait for your response. Instead, he grips your thighs harder, spreading them as far as they’ll go. He spits on your mound, watching his saliva drip down to your pussy. You’re watching too, with stricken, hooded eyes. Like you’re frozen in time and space, and he’s the only constant.
Leaning forward, he envelopes your clit between his lips, giving it a harsh suck. Your entire body convulses, and you moan the loudest he’s ever heard you. Thunder claps at the same time, but you’re louder than it, and your hands grab on to his hair, and you press your cunt into his face, practically smothering him but he fucking loves it.
“Tell daddy to lick your cunt,” he orders, his voice deeper and lower than it’s ever been, and a slight threat in his tone, “say it, or else I’ll stop everything.”
“L-Lick it, please,” you beg so prettily, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe sits back, looking at you expectantly till you make the prettiest little noise of impatience. You shoot him a pleading look of desperation, but he doesn’t let up. You cry out, gripping his hair harder before ducking your head in shame, “P-Please, okay? Please lick my cunt, daddy.”
Rafe could’ve orgasmed right there at the sound of your sweet, delicate voice pleading with him, finally addressing him as daddy. Instead, he sucks hard on your sensitive, engorged clit, and you scream bloody murder. He snickers against your soaking folds, grabbing your thrashing hips, stilling them slightly but allowing you to rock them against his face till it’s shining with your wetness.
“Messy little girl,” he mutters, “excited, aren’t you? Never had this virgin pussy eaten, huh?” he grows sloppy, messy with his licks. Tonguing your sensitive nub till you’re a writhing mess above him, incoherent little gasps and moans tumbling out of your mouth as you continue to hump against his face because you’re a goddamned virgin who doesn’t know how to act because you’re feeling so good.
Rafe’s practically making out with your pussy, and he’s never enjoyed going down on a girl as much as he is right now. It’s how responsive you are, it’s how this is all so new to you so you don’t even know nor care to hold anything back. You’re rubbing your pussy on his face like all you can think of is how good he’s making you feel. And he fucks you with his tongue, unable to quite believe how sweet you taste. Like an angel, his angel. All his.
“It’s…It’s too much, Rafe!” you cry out, and yet you’re rolling your hips with abandon, riding his tongue while he sucks and licks you out like he’s starved.
“You can take it,” his voice is muffled, and you try to wrap your thighs around his head except his grip on them is too strong. It’ll leave bruises in the shape of his fingers all over your soft skin, but he likes that. He wants to bruise you, mark you, make you his in every way possible. So next time when you wore a slutty little sundress, every goddamned man on this island would know you’re taken. Fuck, he’d get his name tattooed on your goddamned pussy, and–
You cum, squeaking so prettily he wants to bottle up the sound and keep it safe in his memories forever. Your first orgasm, and all it took was a couple of minutes of him eating your cunt. And your muscles squeeze around his tongue, and you cry and moan like you don’t even know what’s happening. Your grab at his hair, pulling so hard because you’ve probably never felt like this before.
And Rafe doesn’t stop, his tongue swirling circles while you hump and grind against his mouth, riding out your orgasm, moaning his name over and over again. Outside, the weather gets worse, and at one point he notes the whole room shakes as if the goddamned roof’s about to blow off. You don’t give a fuck though, and he doesn’t either.
“Oh, Rafe, oh, oh oh, it’s too much!”
Now, you’re trying to push him off you, but selfishly he keeps tongue-fucking you. His thumb rubs your engorged, sensitive clit. He knows it’s too much for you, but he’s too fucking turned on to stop.
“C’mon, baby. Don’t be like that. Lemme give you another one.”
“No, I-I can’t, I, oh fuck!”
He slaps your clit, and a squelching sound fills the room. You gasp, and he just snickers, having entirely too much fun with you. And again, you twitch your hips, inadvertently pushing your cunt into his face again. You’re out of breath and sensitive from your first orgasm, and yet your greedy little pussy wants to give him another one.
“You like it when your daddy slaps your cunt?”
You’re such a shy little thing, gaping at him as if he’s said the most insidious thing on earth. And yet, your cunt squeezes around his tongue, and he you up as you continue to leak into his mouth. He looks up at you, “Tell me you like it.”
“I, uh, I like it, uh… daddy, oh gosh!”
It takes just one more spank and you come undone, cumming all over his face and he licks you throughout. Long, languid stripes of his tongue flat against your wet folds, then he switches to fucking you with it, and your fuckhole’s so goddamned tight, his tongue barely even fits a little bit, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s got one hand slipped down his pants, jacking off because this is the hottest thing in the world he’s ever witnessed. Innocent little baby crying after orgasming from getting her pussy spanked by her daddy.
He feels like a lion closing in on the fucking lamb, forgetting himself for a second as he gets up. Aggressively pushing you down till you’re lying flat on the bed, surrounded by your stupid stuffed animals. In a second, he’s on top of you, breathing hard like a man possessed. God fuck, all he had to do was shove it inside you, hold you down and tell you to take it. Maybe press his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming too loud. Not that it mattered. Nobody could save you from him tonight.
But you blink up at him so prettily, so unaware of his intentions, your eyelashes wet with tears. Your lips bitten and pouty, face shiny with sweat. Your hands grab his arms again, squeezing like you’ve grown used to doing.
“R-Rafe, that was… wow.” You say breathlessly, so blissfully innocent, not realising at all that he’s moments away from holding you down and fucking you, that he’s planning how he’ll do it in his head this very moment. “I never… I never thought it could feel that good.”
Rafe finds himself feeling that again, that weird feeling that kept bubbling up inside his chest from time to time whenever he was with you. He still doesn’t have a name for it; he can’t even properly describe it. But looking down at you now, watching you stare up at him with those shining eyes of yours. All he can do is push a piece of your hair out of your face, and smile slowly down at you.
“What do you even know about sex, baby?” He breathes, his face so close to yours.
“Oh, well, uh… Not that much. I mean obviously I know how it works. I just… I didn’t know you could call someone da– that.”
He smirks, tapping your cheek condescendingly, “You mean daddy?”
You look embarrassed, “Yeah.”
“I need you to keep calling me that, okay?” Rafe says gently, “It’s completely normal and I told you I’d take care of you from now on. You want that, don’t you?”
Again, he nudges at your lips with his thumb, making you suck it. Which you do, and the feeling goes straight to his dick. He wants to fuck you while you suck his thumb, gently rock his hips into you, your tight pussy squeezing his huge cock while you whimper around his thumb, sucking it while you cried and just took it, took whatever he gave you and then said thank you, daddy like the good little girl you were.
He starts kissing you again, unable to help it. And your response is so enthusiastic, he feels like he might explode. You’re getting more confident with all the kissing stuff, and Rafe likes that it’s all because of him.
“You ready for the next lesson, baby?” He asks between kisses, his hands everywhere all over your naked body. Squeezing your breasts, playing with your ass. Loving that you’re naked beneath him and so willingly too.
You swallow harshly, “I don’t think I’m ready–Oh!”
He takes your hand, pressing it inside his slacks. Right on his hard, throbbing dick. And fuck, it feels so small, so weak against his pulsating cock. He bites his lip hard to keep from thrusting into your hand.
“Take it out.”
“N-No!”
He exhales loudly through his nose, holding your hand tight against him when you try to snatch it away. “Baby, what did I tell you about doing what I say?”
“I-I know but… but I’m scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared,” he says, “but you need to do this, alright? Didn’t I make you feel good just now?”
“Well, yes, but–”
“So just trust me. I’ll make you feel good again, okay baby?” He kisses you lightly once, twice, three times till you smile, “You’ve been such a good girl tonight. So brave for me....”
You hiccup, looking up at him with those goddamned saucer-like eyes again, “R-Really?”
He strokes your cheek, innately aware of your hand relaxing against his cock, “Yes. Such a brave, good girl. You forgot all about the storm outside, didn’t you?”
As if on cue, you whimper and cuddle into him more. He smiles like a goddamned wolf, feeling evil yet desperate at the same time, “Call me daddy again, princess.”
You don’t even fucking hesitate, “d-daddy, I–”
“Take daddy’s cock out, baby. It’ll distract you, I promise.”
You do exactly what he says, and he helps you. He can’t help but hiss when you free his dick from the confines of his slacks, and you gasp too, dropping it immediately when you see it.
“Shit, gimme your hand,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t wait this time. Snatching your hand in his, he spits down into your palm before pressing it on his dick. “Stroke it.”
You pull back, “I don’t know how, I don’t–”
“Do it or I’ll leave right the fuck now.”
In your helpless daze, you whimper before placing your hand back on his dick. And it’s so red, about ready to explode the moment you touch him. He exhales slowly, and it feels so fucking good, and he covers your hand with his, guiding it, making you stroke him up and down.
“That’s so good, baby. You’re so good.”
“I am?”
“Shit, yeah, just keep doing that. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He notes how you grow more confident, rubbing his dick and jacking him off like a good little girl. His hand leaves yours, instead cupping your face as he pulls you in for another kiss. He can’t help kissing you, you taste so fucking sweet and it’s insane because he’s never particularly enjoyed kissing anyone this much before. But he loves kissing you, leading you through it, guiding you. Loves how responsive you are, loves how you listen to him even when you feel all scared and hesitant. As if you know that at the end of the day, he was the one with all the power, the one in charge. The only one who knew how to take care of you.
“You ever seen a cock before this, princess?” He asks crudely between kisses.
Your eyes widen, “N-No, Rafe– I mean, uh, daddy.”
“No? Good girl. That’s so fuckin’ hot.” He bites your pouty bottom lip, and you gasp, squeezing his dick in your hand and it makes him moan straight into your fucking mouth. What a naughty girl.
“It’s, uh, it’s so big,” you say quietly, so quietly that Rafe almost doesn’t catch it. But he does, and he smiles, pulling back slightly.
“Yeah?”
Shyly, you duck your head, “Yeah, daddy.”
God, you were so fucking irresistible. He couldn’t take it anymore. He takes your hand, which was still steadily pumping his dick, and holds it tightly. Holds both your hands by your sides as he nudges your legs apart again, and watches as you take a deep breath, as if you know what’s coming.
Lowly, he whistles at how wet you are, your juices having leaked down to stain your pink sheets again. Rafe’s never had a virgin before but he knows how eager they are, how easily turned on they get. He can imagine how slippery wet and snug your snatch would be around his dick. Now, he swipes a finger down your slit, gathering your wetness while you squirm under him.
“Aww, look how excited your pussy is, princess.” He snickers, bringing his finger up to your lips, smearing them with your wetness, getting it all over your face too till it shines and you’re all messy. “Tell me, what’s got her so wet?”
‘I don’t know.”
SMACK.
Rafe finds he quite enjoys slapping your cunt, especially when it’s so wet and throbbing. You cry out, quivering and shaking underneath him. He flashes you a look, “Answer the question.”
“You,” you breathe, blinking up at him, “You, daddy.”
“Yeah? I get your pussy wet?” He’s working himself up, his dick nudging against your folds and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t just shove it in there. “Tell me why.”
You moan pleadingly, “R-Rafe, please!”
“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it properly,” he says, enjoying himself a bit too much. It was payback for all the times you’d teased him without even realising it this past week. Flaunting your sexy little body, blinking up at him with those fuck me eyes, as if you were just begging for it in your own little innocent way.
You swallow harshly, and despite everything he can see you thinking carefully, as if you want to give him a real proper answer to impress him. Cute.
“I, uh, I like how big you are,” you stutter slowly, “you-you’re a lot bigger than me.”
He grins wolfishly, pushing his hair out of his face before pressing a greedy kiss to your lips, which you respond to fervently. But he pulls away all too quickly, looking down at you as if he expects you to continue.
“I like how strong you are,” you’re looking anywhere but at his face, he guesses because you’re too shy. He sponges kisses down your jaw, your neck, down to your chest. Kisses all over your tits, presses them together and licks them, bites at your nipples while you moan between your words. “You make me feel safe, daddy.”
Rafe pauses, and it’s there again. That stupid fucking feeling that he doesn’t understand, nor does he care to understand it right now. Nobody’s ever felt safe with him before. Everyone’s always been afraid of him or hated him or screwed him over because they didn’t trust him. No one’s ever looked at him how you’re looking at him and it makes him feel things he’s never felt before.
But he shoves those feelings straight back down, clears his throat before pressing his finger down between your folds. You shiver and moan, hips bucking up before he pins them in place. He tries pushing his pointer finger inside you, but is met with resistance despite how soaking wet you are. Fuck.
“Tightest pussy I ever had,” he mutters, “but she’ll take daddy’s dick, won’t she?”
It’s more of a statement than a question, and he ignores your soft cries as he forces his finger up your cunt. Till it’s finally knuckle-deep, and he bets you can feel the cool silver of his ring against your warmth. And your pussy’s so fucking snug, gripping his finger like a vice, and even he has to wonder how he’d possibly fit his big dick inside you.
“So full,” you breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. But he shuts you up soon enough when he starts fingering you. One singular finger, because that’s all that fits. But he moves it in and out, curving upwards till you moan, thrusting your hips in rhythm like you can’t even help it.
“Gonna add another one, okay baby?”
‘W-Won’t fit, daddy.”
“Shh, yes it will. Daddy’s gonna make it fit.”
Rafe makes it fit. He has to hold you down while you cry like a baby, but soon he’s got his index and middle finger shoved inside you, finger-fucking your tight, virgin cunt while his hard dick slaps against his stomach, and he’s so fucking turned on. More than he’s ever been in his whole life.
“How’s that feel, baby?” He murmurs into your ear, nibbling at it, licking inside it and making you jump. And fuck, you’re so jumpy, and he has to keep you pinned down while he fingers you, and a sick part of him wonders if he’s drawn blood already.
“H-Hurts,” you whimper like the goddamned little cry-baby you are. “R-Rafe please slow down.”
“Come on, don’t tell me to slow down,” he continues pumping his thick fingers up your slippery wetness, feeling like you’re swallowing them up whole every time, “Not when you’re drippin’ all over your sheets like a little–”
“But it hurts!”
“That’s okay, it’s supposed to hurt,” he explains slowly, like you’re dumb, “it’s because you’ve never done this before, so that’s why I gotta stretch you out like this first, okay?”
A lone tear meanders down your cheek, “I-I don’t think it’s gonna fit, Rafe.”
“I made ‘em fit, didn’t I?”
“Nooo, you’re, uh, I mean your…” You sniffle helplessly, a wild look in your eye that looks half scared, half confused as he bets your body’s starting to betray you.
Rafe feels a smile creep up on his face, “You already thinkin’ about my cock, sweetheart? How it’s gonna feel when it’s up your virgin cunt?”
You shake your head vehemently, but you’re a little angel slut because your hips are bucking up to meet his fingers. “Rafe, no. Your f-fingers, they’re already too much, I don’t think I can take…”
“Didn’t I just tell you I’d make it fit?”
You grip his arm tightly, pleadingly “Y-You’re too big, I-I don’t think I can handle anymore…Oh fuck!”
He knows he’s hit that spot inside you because your whole back arches, and you let out the hottest moan he’s ever fucking heard in his life. Complete abandon, head thrown back, digging your nails so hard into his arm that he’s sure you’ve broken through his skin.
“That’s right, baby girl. Just fuckin’ take it,” he mutters, increasing his pace, wondering if he can fit a third finger in. “Fuck, you’re so good, baby. Taking your daddy’s fingers like a champ. God, look at your little virgin cunt, swallowing ‘em up like a greedy little slut. Didn’t think you’d turn out to be so fuckin’ slutty, baby.”
You clench around him, moaning his name and he can’t believe how much his dirty talk is having an effect on you. His thumb rubs at your clit while he continues to finger fuck you, wanting to draw another orgasm out of you because you’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum, and he wants you to make a mess all over his fingers before he finally takes you with his cock.
“Too much, too much, oh, oh, oh,” you’re half delirious, humping against his fingers, letting him fuck you with them, and he knows you must feel so full. And it feels like heaven for him, being inside you (even if it is just with his fingers). You feel so soft, so wet, so warm. Your muscles tensing and relaxing around him as he builds you up.
“Take it,” Rafe repeats, “bet it’s never felt this good huh? You ever finger yourself, baby girl? Touch yourself late at night when you think everyone else’s asleep?”
You gasp at his words, but he feels you clench around his digits.
“Mmm, not such a good little girl after all, huh? Fingering yourself when you think your mommy’s asleep,” he grins wickedly at the horrified look on your face, increasing pace, “but it’s never enough, is it? Your fingers aren’t as big as mine, so you could never make yourself cum.” He laughs, “this whole time, all you needed was a man like me to take care of you. Say it, say you need me. Say it.”
“N-Need you!” You cry out, delicious tears streaking your face, “I need you, daddy. I-I…Oh fuck, please! Please, I don’t… I just… I–“
You squirt all over his hand. And it’s insane; Rafe’s never seen anything like it before. He gazes in wonder, caught off-guard for once. You completely come undone, crying and panting his name, rocking your hips against his hand as you ride out your third orgasm of the night. And who knew it would take just a little bit of dirty talk to get you to squirt? God, you were so fucking hot, so full of surprises. So perfect for him, it was unbelievable.
“Good girl,” he strokes your head like you’re his little pet, taking his wet fingers and pressing them into your mouth, and you’re so hot when you automatically suck on them. “Such a good girl, baby. That was so fuckin’ sexy.”
All you do is clutch at him and cry, so spent and overstimulated from your orgasm. Rafe licks his lips, feeling both protective yet predatory at the same time. You’re at your weakest, most vulnerable state. Outside, thunder and lightning strike over and over again as if they were paid to do so, and the room lights up and goes dark, it shakes and shudders, and the winds howl like a pack of possessed wolves. And yet you look so pretty in the dim glow of the candlelight.
It's the perfect night for you to get ruined. His perfect little baby. Pristine and innocent and at his mercy.
Rafe’s cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing as he grabs it by the base, pumps it as he hovers over you. On his knees while you lie beneath him, looking so deliciously scared. He presses his whole length against your stomach, and watches your eyes almost bulge out of your head. He knows he’s big, but compared to your tiny frame, he’s massive. And he gets off on that, gets off on how much bigger he is than you. He smears his precum against your stomach, smirking as he watches you swallow and try to be brave.
“Listen to me,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, “You like my cock, baby? You like looking at it, huh?”
The way you lick your lips gives it away, and he laughs cruelly, tapping your cheek like you’re his little pet. “Say it, then. Say you like it. Beg me to put it inside you. C’mon, baby, look at your pussy, she’s crying for it. Beg me.”
He knows you’re at war with yourself, and you shake your head tearfully, opening your mouth to speak. But a clap of thunder sounds just then, so loud it makes the whole room shake. You cry out so pitifully, it makes his heart throb a little. You grab at him, and he falls down on top of you, kissing you, kissing your salty sweet lips and your tears. Kissing you all over while your desperate hands tangle into his hair.
That’s when he nudges the tip of his dick against your folds. And it already feels like fucking heaven, your wet warmth practically begging him to shove it inside you. He presses his tip on your puffy, sensitive clit and you jump, your eyes widening and then you push at his chest.
“R-Rafe, please, I don’t think–”
“Shh, c’mon, baby. Let daddy fuck you,” Rafe urges softly against your lips, “gonna make you feel so good again, mhm?”
“Nooo…”
He tries to ignore your soft cries, the way your palms press weakly against his chest.
“Shit, just relax,” he coaxes, knowing he could just hold you down and force it in, and yet…
He kisses you, tasting salt on your lips. You try to kiss him back, but he can feel you gulping for breath. He can feel your heart hammering against your chest. He can feel your limbs pushing at his body, but he’s just so much fucking bigger than you that it doesn’t even make a difference, and yet…
“Rafe, I… please…”
“Baby…”
His dick feels like it’s going to explode, and he runs it up and down your soaking slit, and you moan. And your face looks turned on beyond belief, and yet scared at the same time. Nervous, frightened, vulnerable. It’s a heady mix, and he doesn’t know what to do, and–
“Please, Rafe. I’m not ready, I-I can’t, Rafe. Please…”
“Fuck.”
Something comes over him, and Rafe feels it again. That bubbling, intense feeling inside his chest. Like a rush of an emotion he doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand. All he knows is he can’t, he fucking can’t. You’re so sweet, so kind, pure like a flower and he just can’t bring himself to pluck it. Tear it apart. Ruin it like how he ruined everything else he touched.
He rolls over, lying beside you while you quiver next to him. Both breathing hard. And outside, the wind howls and howls almost like it’s mocking him. Laughing at him for being a goddamned pussy. And there’s another clap of thunder, and he hears you crying softly.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Rafe finds himself gathering you in his arms, holding you against his chest, “Hey, look, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
“I-I thought I could but…” you hiccup between your tears, and your eyes look like there are a thousand stars shining wetly inside them, and he knows he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “I’m sorry, I thought I could do it, I thought–”
“It’s okay,” he repeats, cupping your face and making you look at him, his thumbs swiping away your tears, “Don’t cry, okay? Shit, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
“Y-You’re not mad?”
He strokes up and down your back, soothing you while he wonders whether he is. But the only thing he feels right now is this strange, innate need to protect you. To reassure you. Hold your quivering body close till you stopped shaking. It’s insane, because he doesn’t feel like himself, because he’s never felt this before. It’s alien. Completely, utterly fucking alien.
“No,” he answers quietly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “No, I’m not mad.”
“You pr-promise?”
“I promise.”
He feels like a different person as he tucks his dick back into his slacks. Like someone else, like someone he doesn’t recognise. But it feels so natural, holding you so close that your heartbeat feels like his. And the storm outside feels like a million miles away. Like it’s just you and him on a different planet and nothing else exists, nothing else means anything except you.
You fall asleep in his arms, spent after everything. And Rafe doesn’t even feel frustrated in that moment, because all he can focus on is how peaceful you look. Your tears dried on your cheeks, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. You trusted him with everything. And it made him feel like someone important.
The wind laughs and laughs all night.
*
The morning is calm, tranquil. Almost like the storm never even was. And Rafe wakes up well rested, with you cuddled on his chest, his arm around you and his thumb in your mouth. The room dappled in sunlight, the candles all blown out or melted away.
Slowly, he detangles from you, making sure not to wake you up. You look so peaceful, so innocent. So soft and pretty, in your little shack of a house on the Cut. He frowns as he looks around. In the morning light, your room looks even more pitiful. It’s clean, and you’ve made it pretty with notes and posters and fairy lights. But he can see the paint peeling off the walls, the fact it’s smaller than his closet back home.
Rafe can’t believe he’s woken up on this side of the island.
He has the sudden urge to leave. To run. Hastily, he types out a text to you.
Rafe: Hey. I thought I’d leave in case your mom came home and saw us. Didn’t want to wake you. Talk to you later.
He has to get home. Gather his thoughts. Recalibrate. Think about what the fuck came over him last night, when he’d had you right where he fucking wanted you. And then he’d pussied out of it. Rafe Cameron never pussied out of anything.
What the fuck did that mean?
His gaze shifts to you again, so pretty and sound asleep. Naked because you’d so willingly shed your clothes for him, spread your legs for him. And he could have had you. Hell, he could have you right now. Force himself into you while you were still asleep, and you’d wake up crying and sobbing, all confused and sleepy while he held you down and ordered you to just take it.
That’s what he should’ve done last night. So then what the fuck had stopped him?
Now, he lightly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, humming lightly at how smooth you feel. So soft, like an angel. A powerful, almost all-consuming feeling overtakes him. A wave of possessiveness coursing through him like a tidal wave of dark poison. You were his. All his. He could do what he pleased with you. Your body was his. You’d all but served it to him on a silver platter last night, in your pathetic little room with the candles.
Rafe feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He gets his phone out, ignoring any small, decent part of him that was sending warning signals to his brain. You were his. He had every right to do this.
Silently, he takes the pictures. And a sick part of him gets off on it, gets off on the fact you’re asleep and none the wiser to what’s happening. But this was the least you could do, you’d left him hanging last night. After he’d been so patient, so understanding. Fuck that. Why had he been like that? Like he was weak?
“You make me feel safe, daddy.”
Your words from last night ring in his ears, bouncing around in his brain till it gets too much, till they start to echo and get louder and louder. Till he feels the urge to punch the shit out of your bedroom wall. It was all too much. He had to get out of here.
He tucks his phone into his pocket, pushes the cotton covers up till your chin, and then leaves without looking back.
*
“There he is! The loverboy himself!”
His friends gather around him the next morning like he’s the second coming of Christ himself.
“How was she, Rafe?” one of them slaps him on the back, “That is, if you fucked her.”
“Yeah.” Kelce stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Rafe expectantly. They all are. “Did you fuck her?”
Rafe scoffs, “Is that even a question.”
He’d waited all day yesterday for you to respond to his text. Like a pussy ass little bitch, he’d waited for you to say something. Growing angrier and more paranoid by the second when you didn’t. Staring at the pictures he’d taken of you like a man possessed, his thumb hovering over the delete button a handful of times before he’d thrown his phone angrily across the room. Hating how you were making him wait. Hating how his heart had leapt up to his fucking throat when you finally had replied: I’m so sorry for being such a scaredy cat yesterday. Thank you for coming over.
He'd discovered something then. He was obsessed with you. And he hated it.
“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Kelce grins, cutting straight to the chase. Next to him, Rafe sees Topper’s eyes light with interest, as well as the others too. Fucking desperate losers, trying to catch a glimpse of something that belonged to him. Because they’d never get to see you like that, ever. No one else would. He’d make sure of that.
“It did happen.” Rafe says calmly, “Like I said it would.”
“Okay well, that’s great brother but we’re gonna need proof.” One of the clowns pipes up.
“You don’t need shit,” He shoots back.
“You didn’t take pictures?” Topper asks.
Rafe runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I did.”
“Then show us. That was the deal.”
He wants to beat the shit out of all of them for daring to ask to see intimate pictures of you. As if you were anything like the other whores he’d fucked in the past, the type of stupid girls him and his friends used every week. You were different, and you were his, and they had no fucking business looking at what was his.
“Look. I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe me.” He mutters, completely over the dumb ass bet and over his friends too. They’d forget about it by tomorrow, ready to become his willing followers once more. They always did.
“C’mon man, you can’t bring our hopes up like that. Either you never fucked her or,” Kelce’s eyes glint when it registers, “Or you’ve gone soft for her. You’ve–”
Rafe grabs him roughly by the collar, a sudden anger coursing through him like he’s been electrocuted. “Listen, you fucking moron. Don’t ever insinuate I’ve gone soft for a goddamned Pogue.”
He spits that last word out like it’s venom, and yet he tried to ignore how hollow it feels. When he realises people are staring, he quietly lets go, smoothing Kelce’s shirt while his friends stare at him fearfully in that way he’s grown used to people looking at him.
“I fucked her,” Rafe says plainly, his tone switching from aggressive to calm in a split second, almost like he’s slipped on a mask, “I fucked her just like I’ve fucked every other Pogue bitch who’s thrown herself at me before her. And it wasn’t anything special. She acts all innocent, but it was easy to get her to spread her legs for me just like I told you it would be.”
He hears a thud, and then a little gasp behind him. So soft, it barely registers. Except it does, and he turns around.
And immediately locks eyes with you.
And then it feels like it’s just him and you. And nobody else is there. And there’s no sound, like both of you have stopped breathing. You stand there, frozen, stricken. Your books on the ground in front of you. Only a few steps behind him, well within earshot. And he sees something break in your expression, porcelain features twisting in hurt, shock, dismay, disbelief.
“Oh shit,” Topper mutters from somewhere behind him. A few of his friends snicker, but Rafe can’t hear them. No, he’s frozen, staring at you as if he can’t quite believe it. And he sees the tears welling in your eyes.
A little broken sob falls from your lips, and then you turn and run. And Rafe wants to chase after you but it’s like he’s frozen in time and space. Watching you run off while he just stands there.
Stands and watches as you run away from him, your hands reaching up blindly to wipe at your face. And that feeling returns tenfold. That feeling that Rafe can’t quite put his finger on, that feeling which he wants to push back down because it suffocates him, and he doesn’t understand it. The feeling consumes him from the inside out, till he feels like he can’t breathe.
And he just stands there and watches until you’re gone.
𝘼/𝙉: OOF. Okay, I finally posted it! Please let me know what your thoughts! Literally any reaction, predictions, favourite parts etc. All of it, ANY of it would be so appreciated! Also please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. Here's some questions in case you want to answer them (you don't have to!! you can comment/reblog whatever you want, i just always post questions at the end of my fics)
Does Rafe genuinely care for reader?
Should reader forgive Rafe?
Favourite scene/part?
Anyways, that's it. Now I'll anxiously wait to see what you guys think. PLEASE PLEASE consider reblogging this fic if you plan on liking it and want me to continue it. Thanks so much for all your support when I posted the sneak peek. I hope this lived up to your expectations! <3
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Following the aftermath of Casa Amor and The 'Boss Bitch' challenge, the islanders are forced to confront lingering conflicts
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, verbal arguments, suggestive content (love island typical), toxic relationship dynamics (miles x haja, sofia x rafe), manipulation, Y/N IS NOT DUMB STOP COMING IN MY REPLIES WITH THAT SHE IS JUST TRAUMATIZED AND HURT AND NOT THINKING CLEARLY😭READ THE ROOM PLEASE IT'S BEEN THERE THE SIGNS HAVE BEEN THERE
˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗
DAY twenty-one came before you knew it, the aftermath of the Casa Amor recoupling still hanging in the air.
You walked into the glam room, eyes heavy as you yawned, the mirrors lights blinding you as they did every morning. Everyone else was already up, half-way ready for the day. But before you could even reach for your hairbrush, the door creaked open.
Theo stepped in first, carrying himself with a grace that usually made your heart skip, but today, you just felt hollow. He offered you a warm smile, placing a plate of eggs and fruit on the edge of your vanity.
"Thought you might be hungry," Theo murmured, his voice oddly soothing. He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against your temple.
"Thanks," you whispered, offering a small smile.
Before he could even step back though, the door swung open again.
And Rafe walked in.
Your chest tightened at the sight of him—the buzzcut, the broad shoulders, and those blue eyes that were currently burning holes straight into the man next to you.
In a way, you did miss seeing him.
In his hand, Rafe held a tall glass filled with a freshly blended smoothie. The one he made you every morning.
Or used to.
The exact one he used to make you every single morning when things were perfect.
The problem was, things weren’t perfect.
And you weren't a couple anymore.
Rafe offered Theo a polite, short nod, stepping into your space. He sat the glass down in front of you, his jaw clenching.
"Made you this," he said, his voice still raspy, a sound that used to make you excited for the rest of the day. "Figured you might want it."
“...I’m gonna go,” Theo whispered, leaning down to kiss your cheek, leaving with a small smile, not wanting to be possibly be caught in the middle of whatever was going on, as you squeezed his hand in a silent goodbye, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Rafe as Theo left and the other boys began to flood the room, also bringing food.
You looked from the pink liquid up to his face. "I don't want it," you deadpanned, your voice flat, absent of the warmth he was hoping for.
Around you, the dressing room was growing louder. Sarah was blending her foundation while John B whispered to her, Cleo was being lovey-dovey with Justin, and the remaining islanders were talking loudly enough to create a blanket of background noise.
Because of the ambience, you and Rafe were trapped whispering, silently arguing.
Rafe didn’t walk away. His eyes narrowed, searching yours. "C'mon, angel. Just take it—"
"Go give the smoothie to your girlfriend," you hissed, leaning closer, tilting your chin up at him.
Rafe sucked in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. He stepped even closer, leaning down so his mouth was closer to your ear. "Can you stop saying that shit?" he muttered, voice harsh. "You know damn well she isn't my girlfriend. You know why I’m here."
"I don't know anything about you," you hiss back, glaring at him over your shoulder, your fingers gripping the edge of the marble counter. "Now, leave me alone." you snarl, pushing the smoothie glass to the edge of the table, so fast it screeched.
Rafe stood still for a long moment and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. He looked at you, then let out a defeated sigh. Respecting your boundary, he slowly stepped back. Wordlessly, he turned and walked straight out of the glam room, ignoring the way everyone was pretending they weren’t staring.
THE rest of the morning turned into lounging and hushed conversations. The villa was huge, yet felt claustrophobic with all the hovering drama. And by mid-afternoon, you and the girls had migrated out toward the beanbags.
Two of the three new Casa Amor girls—Haja and Kaitlyn—sat in the middle of it all, introducing themselves.
Kaitlyn spoke first, telling you all about herself. "I hate that I’m finally getting to talk to all of you, like, a whole twenty-four hours later but,” she shrugged. “Uh, I’m twenty-two, I’m from San Francisco," she said, flashing a sweet, polite smile as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Oh! I’m Vietnamese, anddd I work as a junior tech lawyer. So, yeah, my life back home sucks."
Sarah, who had been sitting with her knees pulled tightly to her chest, jumped in, the anxiety and uncertainty of Casa still written plainly across her face. "I really don't mean to be aggressive, but... you and John B. You guys have a history, right?” Kaitlyn nods. “Can you just fill me in? Because he’s been so vague about it."
Kaitlyn sighed, looking around the circle before offering Sarah a sympathetic look. "Eh, I guess, for me, it boiled down to the fact that John B wasn't exactly the most attentive boyfriend when we were together. He seemed self-absorbed, always distracted by his own stuff, his own friends, and whatever weird theories he and his dad liked to chase.” She scoffs. “I was always an afterthought."
Sarah’s face fell, but Kaitlyn was quick to lean forward, placing a hand on Sarah’s leg. "But you don't have to worry about me. I'm over him. Honestly? From what I saw of him here... I think he actually really does like you. Even at Casa, he talked about you constantly. Even when the girls were throwing themselves at him, his head didn't fully turn."
“Fully?" Sarah raises an eyebrow, her eyes searching Kaitlyn's face. "...Did John B do anything while he was at Casa? Because my gut is telling me he’s hiding something from me. He’s being way too defensive anytime I ask and he’s always too eager to change the subject."
Kaitlyn bit her lip, looking hesitant. "...Look, I just got here. I really don't want to cause any problems or start any drama—"
"Please," Sarah pleaded, her voice cracking slightly.
Kaitlyn let out a slow sigh, casting her eyes down before looking right back at Sarah. "Okay. If you want to ask John B anything about what happened over at Casa, ask him about Delaney, JJ’s ex."
The name dropped and Sarah’s face hardened, the blood draining from her cheeks, tongue prodding the inside of her cheek like she knew something.
But before she could spiral any further, Cleo jumped into the conversation.
"So, Kaitlyn," Cleo started, her voice smooth. "Pope told me his side of the story about why he coupled up with you. What’s yours?"
Pope had spent the previous evening giving Cleo his version of events on why he had brought Kaitlyn back, insisting it was a purely platonic pairing to keep them both in the game. Cleo was curious to see if his story checked out against what Kaitlyn would say.
Kaitlyn turned to Cleo, unbothered by the interrogation. "Oh, it’s nothing. I swear.” She throws her hands up. “When we came into Casa, I really didn't find a genuine romantic connection with any of the other guys. But obviously, I still wanted to stay in the game and get a chance to enter the main villa and hopefully find someone. Pope and I got along really well just as friends. He didn't mind bringing me back, and I didn't mind being the one to keep him from elimination, just in case."
Knowing that Pope had actually told the absolute truth made Cleo’s demeanor soften, but it also started a whole other issue...
Confessional: Cleo
"Ughhh,” she groans, throwing her head back. “Is it bad that I hoped he was lying? Knowing Pope told me the truth makes things ten times harder, man! Part of me wanted him to be the bad guy so I could just free myself from him and focus on Justin. Shit, man…"
Then, it was Haja’s turn to introduce herself. She leaned back against the cushions, sunglasses atop her head. "I don’t know where to start but, um, my name’s Haja," she said, her drawl smooth and rich. "Pronounced exactly like that. I’m twenty-five, and I’m a professional dancer from Houston, Texas. I’ve actually been on tour for, like, the last year. So, this is my first summer in a while..."
“You’re...Miles’ ex, right?” Rima asks, unsure.
"We dated, yeah," she scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“How was that?” You ask, leaning back.
"Our relationship was toxic as fuck," Haja amuses, saying it like a joke, a smile on her face. "And when I say that man is manipulative?" She drags out, turning to you. "I mean, you experienced it first hand from what I saw. When he said that stuff to you? About Rafe? He used to do shit like that all the time. It’s the same move he pulled to get me away from the boyfriend I had before him."
Your heart drops at the mention of that day, at the mention of Rafe. “Guess he wasn’t too far off, though…” you mutter to yourself.
"I don’t know too much about that,” she disclaims. “All I know is that Miles was wrong to tell you that shit, and I am one hundred percent sure he was just trying to cause trouble and break you and Rafe apart for his own selfish reasons."
And because the topic had officially been dragged out into the open, you couldn't hold it back anymore. The question had been burning a hole in your chest since last night. You leaned forward, looking at Haja through your lashes.
"Haja, can you tell me what you saw...between Rafe and Sofia at Casa?” you asked, voice soft as you played with your fingers. “I just…I feel like I need to know."
The girls are surprised by your line of questioning, and reasonably so. Since last night, it seemed like the topic of Rafe or Sofia or Casa Amor had you seconds away from either throwing up or burning the villa down.
Haja looked visibly hesitant, exchanging a brief, worried glance with Kaitlyn before looking back at you. "...Long story short, when we all walked into Casa Amor on day one, Sofia made it very, very clear to every single person that she was there for Rafe, and for Rafe only." She paused, picking her words carefully. "And... I can't say that Rafe was one hundred percent into it. Definitely, at first, he seemed totally uninterested. He wouldn't even look at her, he’d walk out of rooms if she walked in. But... I guess something happened after Raunchy Races, and Sofia came back to the girls' dressing room, and she was just like, super happy, telling all of us that she was 'getting her man back'."
Your stomach dropped at her words, swallowing harshly.
"But," Haja added quickly, reaching out to touch your arm supportively. "This is just what I saw from the outside, from my perspective. I didn’t pay too much attention to them, I was focused on doing my own thing.” She tries to comfort. “If you really want a real explanation about what happened, you need to ask Rafe."
"I can’t ask him," you whispered, a broken laugh escaping your lips as you threw yourself back against the beanbag. “I can’t even bring myself to look at him. I don't know if I can trust a word that comes out of his mouth anymore." You shook your head, trying to clear the bad thoughts.
That was when Sarah jumped in, looking at both of the new girls. "Do either of you know why Miles was the one to bring Sofia back, then? Especially if she was there for Rafe?"
Both Haja and Kaitlyn looked equally confused, shaking their heads in unison.
"Honestly, we’re confused by it, too," Kaitlyn admitted. "I mean everyone got kind of close at one point or another, because of challenges and stuff, but I don’t think either of us can say we ever saw a spark or romantic vibe between them.” She shrugs. “Like Haja said, Sofia was throwing herself at Rafe the whole time, but then that last day, her and Miles were non-stop talking and next thing you know, he’s coupled up with her."
Haja let out a sarcastic scoff, a knowing smirk pulling at her lips. "I’d like to propose the theory that Miles just did it to piss me off. He was trying and failing the entire time.” She snarls. “And Sofia probably did it for the exact same reason—to get at Rafe. She used Miles as a ticket into the main villa to get back to him."
As if on cue, mid-conversation, Sarah nudged your shoulder, pointing a finger out across the lawn.
Across the grass, near the edge of the pool, Sofia and Miles were walking together, talking casually in low tones. Nobody in the main villa was particularly fond of either of them, so it was clear they were finding solace in their mutual isolation.
"Look at them," Cleo muttered, her lip curling in disgust as she also noticed. "Two snakes slithering in the same grass."
Sarah turned her head toward Haja and Kaitlyn, her eyebrows raised curiously. "Does Sofia even talk to you guys? Like, are you even cool with her?"
"Absolutely not," Haja deadpanned. "Sofia hasn't been interested in making a single connection since day one—not friendship-wise, and definitely not romantically. Her main goal has been getting Rafe back and staying in this villa by any means necessary. She barely gave us the time of day."
You sat silently, mind spinning. And you hated how the pieces of the puzzle were starting to form a messy, yet almost more clear, picture. Before you could sink completely into your own head, though, the topic of conversation shifted.
ON the opposite side of the villa, the boys had gathered around the fire pit.
Rafe was pacing a tight line along the edge of the stone seating, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts. He stopped, turning his gaze toward JJ, John B, and Pope, who were sitting around.
"I just want a fuckin’ chance to explain," Rafe sighs, his voice cracking with frustration. "She thinks she knows what happened but she doesn’t. It’s like she’s made up this story in her head and she’s sticking with it, she won't even look at me."
JJ leaned back against the cushions, spinning sunglasses between his fingers. "Bro, we gotta figure out what they actually saw because what would make her think you wanted Sofia back?" He throws out. “I mean, we were there, dude. I don’t think you did anything wrong. Like, at all.”
John B leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe it was the Raunchy Races challenge?"
"Yeah," Pope agreed, nodding like a light bulb came on in his head. "Wasn’t that when she randomly kissed you? After the lap dance thing?"
Rafe immediately shut the theory down, shaking his head as he paced back toward them. "No. That's not it. It can’t be." He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "It would be obvious to anyone with a brain that that kiss was during a challenge."
"Rafe’s right," John B admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "That was clearly challenge kiss. Plus, bro, your face right after Sofia did it? You looked grossed out. If the video showed that, she wouldn't be this mad."
Rafe let out a ragged sigh of defeat, dropping onto the edge of the couch. "I can't believe she actually brought somebody back," he muttered, his voice dropping into a bitter hiss as his eyes caught Theo throwing a football with Justin across the lawn. "Who the fuck is this Italian giant anyway?" he ranted. "I feel like shit, man. I just want her to let me talk to her for five minutes, but she is literally the most stubborn girl I have ever met in my life."
JJ let out a scoff from his corner. "Oh, you think you feel bad?" JJ shook his head. "How do you think I feel right now? The girls are all pissed at me for something I don't even think is completely my fault." He shook his head, eyes widening with stress. "I never wanted Kie to get dumped 'cause of me. She was a really good person, and she didn't deserve to go home like that. But at the end of the day, we are all here to find love, man. And I just...didn't see that with her. I can't force something that isn't there."
"Yeah, they were ready to execute you," John B sighed, leaning back against the couch, trying to maintain some level of peace. "Look, I’m just really glad I chose to come back alone, and that Sarah did the same. We’re in a good spot." He paused, his expression turning anxious as he rubbed his chin. "But... I can't lie. I’m lowkey worried that if Sarah knew exactly what was going through my mind and everything I said or did while we were over there... she might not be as happy to be coupled up with me right now."
Pope let out a heavy sigh from his seat, staring blankly at his feet. "I feel you. I got the chance to explain to Cleo that I did stand on my word, that I only brought Kaitlyn back to make sure I stayed in the villa and didn't get dumped. But I'm not even sure if she believes me..."
The boys all fell silent, their eyes drifting across the wide lawn to where the girls were sitting, talking.
"Hopefully," Pope muttered quietly, "we can all figure our shit out soon."
AND it didn't take long for the boys to start plucking you off, one by one, desperate to clear the air.
Justin was the first to make a move, sauntering over, offering a polite smile before looking at Cleo. "Mind if I pull you?"
"No, of course not." She beamed. "Let’s go," Cleo said smoothly, sliding out of her seat, taking his hand and following him over to a quiet corner near the outdoor kitchen.
They sat down on the barstools, Justin leaning his forearms against the counter as he looked into her eyes. "So... I just wanted to check in. I know last night was a lot and that things are weird with Pope back.” He starts anxiously, knee bouncing. “I guess, it’s just…do you actually like me? Like, with him here, do you want to keep getting to know me?"
Cleo offered him a relaxed smile. "Justin, of course I like you.” She breathes. “And I do want to keep getting to know you. You’ve been great to me."
Justin nodded, but his expression turned slightly guarded. "But...what about Pope?"
Cleo let out a slow breath, refusing to lie to him. "I’m not gonna deny that a piece of me has always been with Pope because of our initial connection during the first couple weeks. I do...still have feelings there.” She admits, finally to herself. “But... I’m just not sure if I want to go forward with exploring them anymore after everything that happened. I feel like you have always put me first since the moment you walked in, and I really appreciate you for that. I just want to focus on us."
Justin listened, respectful as he nodded slowly. "I appreciate the honesty, Cleo. Seriously. I understand where you're coming from, and I’m not gonna push you."
Confessional: Justin
"I really do respect her for being honest. And I know there are other beautiful women in this villa who would probably give me one hundred percent of their attention right now. But the truth is... I don't want anyone else. I only want Cleo. Is it too early to say that?"
On the other side of the yard, John B had finally gathered the courage to pull Sarah away. He led her over to the daybeds, tense as he sat down opposite her.
"Sarah," John B started, reaching out toward her hand. Sarah was clueless. "I feel like we should talk."
“Okay…”
“There’s no point in really dancing around it, so,” John B sucks in a deep breath. “I guess I’ll start by asking…what did you do during Casa?”
“...Do you mean like emotional or physical?” She tries to clarify, and John B ponders for a moment, face twisting.
“Both, I guess.”
"Um," Sarah started, thinking, but also confused. "To be honest? Nothing.” She laughs to herself. “I mean, I was open to exploring and everything. I talked to some of the guys I didn’t know, but I didn’t click with anyone. And if you were worried about my ex, me and Thomas didn’t do anything. We’ve been over.” She throws out casually. “And physically, outside of challenges, I still didn’t do anything. I slept alone in Soul Ties the entire time, I didn’t kiss anyone…hell, I don’t even think I hugged any of those guys. And it wasn't for lack of trying, it was more so for the fact...no one could ever beat what I feel for you."
John B swallowed hard, nodding, the guilt written plain across his freckled face.
“...What about you?” Sarah dragged, noting the look on his face. But he remained silent. “...Hello? John B—”
"Sarah,” He blurted, eyes locking onto her own, wide and frantic. “I need you to promise not to get mad," He tries, looking apprehensive.
Sarah's face twists, leaning back away from him slightly. "...Why?"
John B took a deep breath, straightening out. "While I was at Casa... I did end up…catching feelings for a girl." He admits, dropping his head.
"Delaney.” Sarah deadpans, remembering Kaitlyn's words from only moments prior.
John B nods, having at least the decency to look shameful, watching Sarah scoff, her shoulders dropping. “But it wasn’t anything serious—”
“I knew it.”
“She was just…there, and—”
“Did you kiss her?” She cuts him off sharply. “Outside of a challenge.” She clarifies. “Did you?”
John B hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting away before locking back onto hers. "...Yeah," he admitted. "But only once. I swear, Sarah—"
“I fucking knew it!” She exclaims incredulously, snatching her hands out of his. “I knew it from the minute I saw that video and you were holding her fucking face. And I wanted to believe in you, so bad.”
"Sarah, calm down, please—" John B scrambled to his stand, his hands raised in a panic.
"No, don't tell me to calm down,” She scrutinizes. “Are you fucking kidding me? What, I’m just your safe option?”
“No,” John B immediately denies her words. “No, Sarah, you know you’re not—”
“You went over there, made a whole new connection with another girl, shoved your tongue down her throat, and you’re just telling me about it.” She says, disappointed before her face hardens again. “If you made a connection with her, why the hell didn't you bring her back?"
John B desperately tried to smooth it over. "Because clearly I liked you more than her, Sarah! That’s why I came back alone!” He pleads. “Delaney and you... you guys actually share a lot of the same personality traits. You even kind of look alike!” He throws out in a panic, but he can see that it only makes the girl angrier. “I think... I think part of my interest in her just came from the fact that I was missing you so much."
Sarah stared at him, her expression completely disgusted. "Missing me? You kissed another girl because you missed me?" She let out a harsh scoff. "That is the fattest load of bullshit I have ever heard in my entire life, John B."
Without letting him say another word, Sarah turned and stormed away from the conversation, leaving John B standing alone in the garden, gripping his curls in frustration.
MEANWHILE, you were sitting with Theo on the edge of the pool, kicking your feet in the water, trying your best to have a casual conversation. You were chatting and having fun, his typical flirtatious banter temporarily lifting the weight from your shoulders.
But then, Theo’s expression turned serious as silence took over. He set his water bottle on the concrete, turning fully towards your face. "I hate to ruin the mood,” He starts. “But, if you don’t mind me asking…I’d like to know what happened last night." You tilt your head at him innocently, not clear on his question before he clarifies himself. “Your talk with Rafe, bella.” He laughs lowly, but there’s not much humor in it, mostly anxiety.
You let out a soft sigh. "He was basically trying to explain to me that whatever I saw in that video clip... he says I…misinterpreted it. He was swearing up and down that he didn't do anything wrong."
Theo watched you closely, his brow furrowing as his fingers brushed yours from where they were splayed next to each other on the ground. "And you believe him?"
You bit your lip, face scrunching in thought. "Off the top of my head, I have to say no," you said flatly, shaking your head. "I don’t know. Something about it all feels…weird."
Theo hums, letting the silence hang for a moment before, "What if he’s actually telling the truth?"
You groan lightly, kicking your feet against the water more aggressively. "That’s…a problem for another day, Theo," you murmured, looking away across the water.
Despite your dismissive tone, Theo didn't let the subject drop. He leaned closer, pressing the issue. "Y/N,” his voice drops, more serious than you’d ever heard it as a hand falls to your thigh. “I would really like a straight answer to the question."
And something about the topic of conversation or the fact that Theo wouldn’t drop it just put you off. You knew he had every right to ask but the subject matter made you…angry. Defensive. You pulled your legs out of the water, turning to glare at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "Why does it matter?"
Theo hesitated, his jaw working for a second before he confessed. "Because... I’m worried that if he is, you’ll choose him over me."
You physically flinched at his words, eyes widening as your expression softened slightly. You reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. "Theo,” you call softly. “I have a real connection with you. Keeping you here wasn't some petty revenge plot or a way to get back at Rafe. I genuinely do have feelings for you."
Theo listened, but he didn't look entirely convinced. He let out a slow sigh. "I understand what you're saying, bella. But I’m not blind. I know that your feelings for Rafe are stronger than what you feel for me.”
“That’s not—”
“You can try to deny it all you want, but you forget I watched you two fall for each other before even coming here. You liked him and he liked you. A lot. And I know feelings don’t disappear overnight.” He reminds, and you huff, relenting. “But a part of me feels like... if you hadn't seen that video of Rafe and Sofia kissing... you would have never picked me." He tells you, sighing. "...Am I wrong?"
The question hit you hard, knocking the wind out of your lungs as you scrambled for a response, knowing hesitation would only make it worse.
"I—yes, I mean—no?—I don't..." you stuttered over your words. "Theo, I don't know..." you finally admitted, looking down at your hands, letting your shoulders slump. "I really do like you. I like the way you make me feel safe and how attentive you are and how you call me beautiful.” You list off, trying to appeal to him. “But... I can't lie to you. I think, maybe, seeing that kiss between Rafe and Sofia... it might’ve fast-tracked something for me.” You admit, somewhat shamefully. “But I’m not using you, Theo. I swear."
Theo stared at you for three long seconds, a look of disappointment and hurt settling plain across his features. He was rightfully put off by your hesitation, the confirmation of his worst fear written across your own features, whether you were ready to admit to him or not.
He slowly pulled his forearm away from your touch, standing up from the edge of the pool. "I understand," Theo said, his voice perfectly polite, but drained of the warmth it held just minutes ago.
“Theo—”
"Thank you for the honesty.” He nods politely. “I think... I’m gonna go inside, get some water..." and without giving you a chance to repair the damage, he walked away, leaving you sitting alone, feeling like the worst person ever, cursing yourself.
And as you sat there sulking from the aftermath of the conversation, your sad eyes drifted across the lawn.
On the daybeds, Sofia and Miles were talking casually when, suddenly, Rafe walked past them from one direction and Haja walked past from the other, Miles and Sofia quickly glanced at them both before randomly jumping on each other, Miles wrapping his arm tightly around her waist as Sofia leaned in, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips.
It was obvious they were trying to make both of their exes jealous, but neither Rafe nor Haja paid them a single ounce of mind, walking right past the display as if Miles and Sofia were completely invisible.
And you couldn’t help the way your eyes glued themselves to Rafe longer than intended, watching him walk—remembering how it felt to have his arms around you, how it felt to lay on his chest at night, how it felt to have his hand gently squeeze the base of your throat while he kissed you like he hadn’t in years—
You startled yourself out of your daydreaming when Rafe must’ve sensed a pair of eyes on him, turning as his eyes locked with yours, holding your stare.
But you were the one to break eye contact, slightly embarrassed.
You missed him.
But fuck him.
RAFE, on the other hand, kept staring at you as he walked across the lawn.
He noted the way your hair fell in front of your face, finding it adorable, missing the way you'd do that when he made you nervous. He wished he could tell you how good you looked in the bikini you chose today, to whisper in your ear how he couldn’t wait to be the one to take it off of you whenever you decided to give him that chance.
And when he realized that another guy, in the same villa, was probably having the same thoughts, and rightfully so because he was coupled up with you now, all of his anger returned. And, frustrated by your refusal to even listen to him, Rafe decided that if you wouldn't give him the time of day, he needed to get through to someone you would.
He looked around the deck, surveying his options—Sarah looked furious after her talk with John B, Cleo had been practically attached to Justin's hip all morning, and he nor you were close enough with Haja or Kaitlyn to pull them. And he damn sure wasn't going to talk to Sofia.
So, considering he was currently in a couple with Rima, he figured it was time to use the coupling to his advantage. He jogged over to where she was suntanning on a lounge chair she’d dragged out into the sun, clearing his throat as he loomed above her, blocking the sun.
She lifted her head from where it was laying on her folded arms, cocking a curious eyebrow the man’s way.
"Can we talk?"
Rima pushed her sunglasses down, looking up at him with a stubborn expression. Like you and the rest of the girls, she was under the impression that Rafe had spent his time at Casa kissing Sofia behind your back, and was now just trying to clean up his tracks.
"Rafe," Rima said flatly, sitting up. "I really don't want to hear—"
"Please," Rafe begged, his voice cracking slightly. "Just listen to me for two minutes. I swear to God I’m telling the truth, but she won’t listen to me." He whines. "I’m hoping you will."
Rima let out a deep sigh, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine. Two minutes. Go."
Rafe let the ghost of a smile grace his face as he took the available space on the sun lounger next to her, not wasting any time. "Look, Sofia was all over me the second we walked into Casa, Rima, I swear. She was relentless. But I ignored her the entire time. I swear on my mother’s grave." He said, entirely serious. He leaned forward, eyes wide with urgency and desperation. "I did not sleep in a bed with anyone, I slept outside the entire time, getting ate the fuck up by mosquitoes." To back up his point, Rafe aggressively gestured towards his legs, revealing his calves and thighs, which were covered in dozens of angry, red, swollen mosquito bites. "Like, look at my fuckin’ legs."
Rima looked down at the bites, her eyebrows raising slightly in surprise before looking back at him.
"And outside of challenges," Rafe continued frantically, "I did not kiss anyone. I did not touch anyone. And I wasn't forcing myself to not make a connection, I just didn't find one because the only girl I want is Y/N.” He huffs, getting it all out in one breath, voice lowering for the final part of his plea. “Whatever kiss she thinks she saw in that video... she’s wrong."
Rima listened, her sharp eyes scanning his face. She let out a slow breath, raising her own skepticism. "Okay, Rafe.” She starts, letting her shoulders rise and fall. “I hear what you're saying. But I don’t think you understand how bad that video looked.." She leaned in closer, voice dropping. "We saw the kiss during the challenge, yeah. But what really got to her, what I think is really breaking her heart right now, isn't that. It’s what you said." Rima stared right into his eyes. "She watched you argue with your ex, and the second she came onto you, you say you miss her and then y’all kissed. It looks like you were trying to fight unresolved feelings you might’ve had, or have, and failed in the end."
Rafe’s eyes widened, his jaw slacking as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place inside his brain. He finally understood what you had seen, and why you had thrown your connection away so fast.
You didn’t see the whole conversation.
"Fuck," Rafe whispered, dragging his hands down his face. "Rima... there was so much more to that conversation. I can't even fully explain how edited that shit must’ve been to make it look like that, but when I said I missed her... I didn't mean it like that. I swear to you."
Rima raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp. "So... you did say it?"
Rafe looked at a loss for words, stuttering over his thoughts. "Y-Yes, but... it’s a lot... it’s different than what you think.” He tries to clean it up. “I’m not that kind of guy. But she won't even give me the time of day to prove it to her. She’s avoiding me like the plague." He looked at Rima with sad, blue, puppy-dog eyes. "Will you just please help me? I’m literally begging you."
Rima stared at him for a long moment. She had looked into the faces of a lot of guilty men in her life, but looking at Rafe right now, she didn't see a liar. All she saw was a man who was utterly terrified of losing you and desperate to get you back. She’d never gotten a begging-type of vibe from Rafe before, and that, plus his evident desperation, was what led her to believe him.
She sighed, giving in. "How the hell am I supposed to help you?" Rima asked, throwing her hands up. "She saw what she saw, and she already brought an entire Italian God back to the villa. She’s in a whole new couple, Rafe. And, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I think she does actually like him."
"Okay, yeah, I get that,” Rafe waves off, not really caring. “Just... be my wing woman," Rafe pleaded quietly. "Be my eyes on the inside. Help me figure out what she’s thinking, so that way I know how to go about fixing this. I just want her to know that I didn't lie to her." He admits, his face falling as his next words leave his lips. "After that, if she doesn't...want me anymore. I'll accept that. But I can't let her go over something as stupid as this. I can't." His voice shook. "I’m not asking you to go behind her back or lie to anyone, Rima. I’m just asking you to help a man out."
Rima let out a long sigh, shaking her head before a small smirk pulled at her lips. "Fine. I’ll help you." Her expression instantly turned serious, her voice dropping into a low whisper. "But let me make one thing clear to you right now. I swear, if it comes out that your ass is lying to me—because in here, everything always comes out—I’m going to break. your. face.” She threatens, a finger jammed into his chest. “Are we clear?"
Rafe swallowed hard, nodding quickly—only happy to be making progress in getting through to you. "Crystal."
Just then, Rafe's phone dinged, the man sliding it out of his pocket. "Shit," he smirked to himself, standing up. "I got a text!"
At that, everyone stopped what they were doing, drawing in closer as he read it out.
"Islanders, it’s time to find out who is climbing the corporate ladder and who is up for termination! Girls, get ready to give the boys a performance review they’ll never forget in today's challenge, Boss Bitch! #BoardroomBabes #CorporateTakeover #SlimeAndSizzle"
The yard erupted into a choir of cheers and whistles as you all ran off to change.
YOU’D all returned moments later, looking ridiculously hot—the boys completely shirtless under open blazers, ties hanging loosely against bare, toned chests, and shorts that left very little to the imagination.
You and the rest of the girls pulled out all the stops, per usual.
Every one had some version of a provocative business-casual fit. You, specifically, were adorned in a lace brassiere under an open blazer that had the 'girls' sitting perfectly, probably one of the smallest skirts you’d ever worn, and a pair of glasses sitting cutely on the tip of your nose.
You were all sitting around a curved table where the lawn had been transformed into a sleek boardroom, the table top littered with colorful papers that would soon be serving as a runway, a podium, and a deep pit of thick, pink slime.
The challenge was simple—you’d come out, give the men a show, choose someone outside of your couple to kiss, read a trivia question that could be naughty or nice and choose someone to dunk before exiting the “meeting” with a passionate kiss to your partner.
The men waited anxiously, smiling to each other when the doors opened, revealing their first girl.
Cleo was the first to emerge, and she set the bar high. Clad in a vibrant cobalt blue blazer that laid wide open over a matching sheer lace brassiere, she looked drop-dead gorgeous. You were all hooting and hollering as she climbed onto the boardroom table, hips moving fluidly to the heavy bass of the music. She arched her back, grinding down the length of the table while running her hands down her own torso.
"Go on then, girl!" Justin shouted, making Cleo laugh lightly, hyping her up with his eyes glued to her.
But she surprised everyone when she sat down in front of Pope’s chair, a sultry smirk pulling at her lips as she grabbed him firmly by his tie, and yanked him towards her, pressing her lips against his own as Pope let his hands roam. Your jaw dropped as Cleo deepened the kiss, tilting his head back as the villa went crazy.
Of course, the original guys were the loudest—JJ, John B, and Rafe sounding like hyenas, happy that Pope was, seemingly, on the road to that second chance he’d been groveling for.
But further down the table, Justin swallowed harshly. He tried to play it cool, but a frown marred his features as he watched Pope's hands basically map out Cleo’s body.
After a few moments, Cleo broke the kiss, swaggering over to the podium to snatch up her trivia card. She read the prompt aloud, hand on her hip—"Which islander is bringing the team morale down?"
"Oh, this is a no-brainer," Cleo laughed, pointing the hand with the card in it at JJ. "You knocked us down a staff member, rude boy." She teased as JJ took his walk of shame to the hot seat, lips curled inwards as he sat down, anticipating the drop.
Cleo slammed the lever and JJ went face first into the puddle of goo as you all winced, watching him rise, wiping the thick goo from his face. And Cleo concluded her turn by walking straight over to Justin.
She climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs, and delivered a sexy, breathless kiss that wiped the frown right off his face, leaving him grinning like a fool by the time she took her seat next to him.
When Sarah stepped up the chopping block, dressed in a crimson blazer and a black lace bra underneath, she radiated a dangerous kind of aura. She climbed onto the table, eyes locked dead on John B as she did a slow, provocative grind, dropping low to the music before strutting to the edge. But something about their gaze held a kind of unspoken tension.
And everyone’s jaws hit the floor when Sarah stepped down and made a b-line…for JJ.
JJ’s eyes went wide as he caught her strutting over, his hands going up in mock surrender, but as Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck and smashed her lips against his, he didn't pull away. It was a steamy kiss that had you all stunned, noises of disbelief echoing around the table.
John B was left wordless, his face dropping as a look of intense jealousy washed over him.
Confessional: Sarah
"Am I being petty? Absolutely.” She laughs. “Since there’s enough of John B to go around, I figured there’s enough of me for his best friend in here to get a taste." She leans back. “Oh, but don’t worry, John B! I only kissed your best friend because I missed you!” She mocks, rolling her eyes.
Ungluing her lips from JJ’s, Sarah marched over to the podium, her eyes cutting straight through John B on her way over before she read her trivia card.
"Which employee loves to take secret meetings with new clients behind their partner's back?"
"Oooooh," Everyone looked around, probably having a couple of people in mind with recent events.
But, again, to everyone’s surprise, Sarah locked eyes with John B, beckoning him over with a single finger as he obeyed and walked over while you all exchanged weary, confused glances.
Oh, you’d definitely ask her about this later.
Though, right now, you focused on watching as John B got comfortable in the elevated seat while Sarah looked all too happy to slam the lever and send him into the pit, soaking his blazer and curls in pink slime.
And to top it all off, she had deliver her final kiss to him. Sarah sauntered over, climbed onto his sticky, slimed lap, and delivered an agonizingly slow kiss, leaving John B dazed and defeated.
Confessional : Sarah
"I don't know if I'm still mad." Sarah shrugged. "Like, he explored and still chose me but that shit sucked, dude!" She whines. "...But dunking him definitely helped."
After her, Haja turned the boardroom into show and you all, fortunately, had front row seats. Her movements across the table were so fluid—dropping into a slow split and executing flawless, complicated moves that had the boys standing up out of their chairs, screaming.
But the real mess came when Haja lowered herself down from the table and walked straight over to Miles. Everyone, the boys especially, looked around like, 'what the hell?' given how much they hated each other, or at least appeared to.
Miles smirked, smug as Haja pulled him in by his open blazer, delivering a deep kiss that looked entirely too comfortable. JJ’s jaw clenched, a look of insecurity crossing his features as he watched the girl he was coupled up with swap spit with her ex...by choice.
Confessional: JJ
"So…she acts like Miles is the literal bane of her entire existence…and to back it up, she shoves her tongue down his throat?” He throws out, clearly put off. “It’s messing with my head, bro. I feel like a pawn in their weird little game..."
Haja broke the kiss, pushing Miles back by his shoulders, stepping up to the podium to read her trivia card.
"Which employee is trying to pull off a hostile takeover in another department?"
Haja pretended to think, her eyes traveling when the stopped on Miles…before jumping to Sofia, beckoning her over as Sofia pointed a finger at herself, surprised. Haja nodded, urging her up out of her seat. "This one's for you, sweetie," She teased as Sofia tried to act unbothered, sitting in the chair, closing her eyes and waiting for the moment to come.
Haja slammed the lever back, and Sofia let out a small shriek as she fell into the pool, slime splattering across her face and into her hair. And as she rose, scooping the substance out of her eyes, almost slipping on her way back to her seat, Haja concluded her turn by walking back to JJ. She took him by the chin, forcing him to look at her, and delivered a passionate kiss that almost made him forget he was mildly upset with her, leaving him grinning.
Kaitlyn’s turn was undeniably sultry. She already had this mature, sexy confidence about her, but as she did a slow crawl down the center of the conference table, her dark hair falling over her shoulders before stepping down—she stole the show. And she proved she knew exactly how to twist a knife, whether purposely or not, when her outside kiss targeted John B.
John B looked flustered as she approached, shifting his weight as her lips met his, but he kissed her back when he remembered Sarah’s lips on JJ’s.
And Sarah simply watched with a lethal stare, jaw working.
Confessional: Kaitlyn
"Honestly, I just kissed John B for a bit of fun and we have that history, so it felt safe. But looking back? Probably not the right move.” She winces. “I clearly wasn’t reading the room, and I think I just added more fuel to Sarah's fire. Oops?"
Kaitlyn untangled herself from John B and moved swiftly to the podium, reading her card.
"Which employee thinks they're the boss when they're actually just a temp?"
Kaitlyn laughed, holding the card to her mouth, laughing before her eyes landed dead smack on Miles. Various reactions sounded out as the man rose from his seat, Kaitlyn stepping aside to let him take a seat in the chair before yanking the lever back, letting him drop.
The slime coated almost every inch of him, dripping down his frame as he stepped out of the pool, a tight-lipped grimace on his face as Kaitlyn then walked over to Pope, ending her turn with a sexy kiss.
And before you knew it, it was your turn to show off. You were wearing an oversized white blazer that laid wide open over a matching white lace brassiere, framing you perfectly.
You climbed onto the long, curved conference table, the bass of the music thumping as you let yourself go, used to these games by now. You dropped to your knees, crawling seductively down the center of the table, locking eyes with the perimeter of guys as everyone cheered you on, louder than ever. You held your glasses in your mouth, clutched between your teeth, hanging loosely from your lips as you ran your hands up your thighs, holding eye contact with Rafe for a split second before deliberately bypassing him.
Confessional: Rafe
"Just fuckin' kill me. I don't think I deserve it but this is torture."
The boys were shouting, completely losing their minds. But, of course, your girls were even louder.
You got caught up in the moment, glasses hanging sexily low on your face as your peered over them, realizing you had to choose someone to kiss.
And he came to mind, of course he did.
But he didn’t get that luxury anymore.
So, without much thought, you stopped in front of JJ, eyes locked onto his. He laughed, throwing his hands up as a blush rose on his cheeks, but he caught you by the waist as you tugged him harshly by his tie, slanting your lips against his as his hands splayed out against your lower back, pulling you in closer.
Confessional: You
You were squealing, covering your face with your hands. “I will never get used to kissing JJ.” You whined into your hands dramatically. “It’s so weird! It literally felt like incest. And I’m still kind of pissed at him!”
Confessional : JJ
“Y’know, I know she could’ve kissed Rafe, probably wanted to,” He ponders, shrugging. “But I don’t think I mind being her scapegoat.” He smirks.
Despite the internal awkwardness, the kiss looked like something out of a movie, and while Theo sat back with a calm smirk, Rafe looked somewhere between grossed out and pissed off, his face contorting as he had to just look away.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t kissed JJ before, almost everyone had kissed everyone, but this time you had the choice to. You could’ve picked him, and you didn’t. It cut him straight to the bone that you could have chosen to kiss him, and you explicitly chose to kiss someone else.
He knew why you did it, but the rejection still felt like a punch to the gut.
As you broke away from JJ, leaving him red, hot, and flustered, walking over to the podium, you swiped up the trivia card.
"Which employee loves trying to manage two different corporate accounts at the same time?"
The villa fell into a chorus of oohs, and, feeling particularly messy, you didn't think on it as your eyes locked directly onto Rafe, narrowing your eyes and beckoning him forward with a single finger.
Rafe didn’t look the least bit upset as he got up, making his way towards you. He actually looked amused, happy you were acknowledging him. Pleased, even.
And it made you even madder as he came to a stop in front of you. But you didn’t let it show, fixing him with a bitter smile. "Time for an audit, baby boy." you teased.
And Rafe raised a single eyebrow, crossing his arms as he towered over you, veins in his arms flexing. “That’s a new one,” he tilts his head. “What happened to ‘big guy’?”
Your jaw clenched as you fixed him with an unamused expression. “You tell me.”
“I’ve been tryin’.” He says, both of you completely forgetting there are indeed people watching, especially two people in particular, as his voice drops its teasing tone.
You simply huff, jerking your head to the side. “Shut up. Get your ass in the chair.” You bite out, moving to put your hand on the lever, shifting your weight as you watch him climb into the seat.
“Yes, ma’am.” He throws out carelessly, sitting down with his hands in his lap, waiting. His words send a heat crawling up your neck but you use those emotions to pull the lever, dropping Rafe into the pool of goo, most of it getting on his chest and neck.
And you couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed the length of his body as he stood up, pink slime dripping down, curving over his shoulders, filling the valleys between his abs as he exited the pool, wiping the little bit that did get on his face.
And as you watched him, you had two people watching you. And Theo and Sofia did not look happy, by any means.
Snapping out of your stupor when Rafe, once again catches you staring and sends a slow smirk your way, you turn on your heel, walk straight over to Theo and climb onto his lap, wounding your legs around his waist, and plant a sloppy, slow kiss that had everyone else cheering but had Rafe’s jaw clenching so hard, he swore he felt something pop.
After you, Sofia was the next to step out, and she didn’t look as graceful as she’d hoped because of the fact she’d already been dunked. She did a sexy dance across the table, eyeing all of the boys, shooting them looks before setting her sights on one guy.
She marched straight over to Rafe, not without a glare towards you, so fast you barely caught it. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck, as you swore you saw him sigh heavier than ever right before she pressed her lips against his, attempting to deepen the kiss into something more.
But Rafe cut the kiss short. After a split second, he turned his face away from hers, his hands catching her shoulders.
Everyone looked shocked, JJ letting out a low whistle, muttering under his breath. "Oh, damn."
This was the first time the original girls, and specifically you, had ever seen Rafe reject Sofia’s advances, as he claimed he did, in person. And, somewhat shamefully, a spike of satisfaction mixed with total confusion hit you as you watched him wipe his mouth with the pad of his thumb as Sofia walked away, visibly embarrassed. Her eyes locked straight onto you, a fire in them.
She had noticed the mere fraction of a second Rafe pulled away from her, the way his eyes had immediately shot across the table to find you, watching him glare at her when he realized you had looked away, a snarl on your lips.
Desperate to recover her dignity, she walked over to the podium, pissed off and territorial, reading her trivia card.
"Which temporary hire is just filling a vacancy until the original person comes back to reclaim the position?"
And it went weirdly silent as everyone watched Sofia’s mean eyes lock on to you across the table, tilting her head sweetly.
"Y/N," she called you out.
A few people made noises, most just stared, waiting to see what would happen. And Rafe huffed, tired of the girl’s antics by now.
You simply tilted your head back at her, smiling softly as you rose from your seat, walking around the table. As you passed Rafe, he reached for your hand, gently enough that no one else noticed. You glanced down at his hand briefly as you continued walking past him towards Sofia, what sounded like an apology tumbling from his lips fading into thin air as you stopped in front of the girl.
She looked you up and down, quick enough that you were sure no one really caught it, before speaking.
“It was sweet of you to keep things running for me—”
Theo’s face twists as he sits up straighter. “Hey.”
“Sofia.” Rafe scolds, clearly irritated as much as everyone else.
“Its fine.” You shrug, meeting both boy’s eyes before turning back to Sofia.
“...But I'm happy to take over and let you take a well-deserved break.” She shrugs, smiling at you. “No hard feelings?”
You looking down, laughing to yourself—who does this bitch think she is?—as you tie your hair up into a ponytail, everyone’s eyes widening as they were under the impression you were seconds away from getting yourself sent home when you look back up, smiling.
“No hard feelings.” You return the fake sentiment, returning her favor from the previous night as you brush her shoulder as you walk past her to take your seat in the dunk chair. Your eyes lock with Theo’s as you send him a small wink, letting him know it’s okay. Then they look at your girls, making a small heart with your hands as they blow kisses at you, before your eyes make one last pit stop on Rafe—glaring into his soul as you can only note how angry yet sad he looks before you hear the lever click and feel yourself falling.
A wave of thick, sticky pink slime hits you in the face, the goo coating your white blazer, dripping down your neck. You took it like nothing—standing up calmly, smiling as the voices of the girls telling you that you ‘still look good’ traveled through the air, completely covered, but you refused to let Sofia see it get to you.
You kept your composure, wiping the slime from your eyes, fixing Sofia with a cold, unamused stare that made her look away first as you removed your blazer and returned to your seat.
Confessional: You
"I am never, ever one to be mad at the girl in these situations. But, clearly, this kitty’s got claws.” You admit, plucking dried slime from your collarbone, shrugging. “But it’s okay... because I do too. She picked the wrong bitch to play dirty with."
When you’re sat, Sofia concludes her turn by walking over to Miles, who smirks as she delivers a kiss to end her turn.
After the debacle with Sofia, Rima was the final girl to go, bringing her typical confidence as she did a dance across the table that had everyone hyped up. Though, for her kiss, she walked straight over to Justin, pulling him in by his tie.
Confessional: Rima
"Look, I chose to kiss Justin because I’m familiar with kissing him. He’s my ex, so it felt more natural than kissing any of these other guys. I love you, Cleo! Don't be mad at meee!"
But Cleo didn't take a single ounce of offense to the kiss, knowing that, for one, it was a typical challenge, sitting back and winking at her. Rima then walked over to the podium, reading the final trivia card with a playful grin.
"Which employee is secretly running this entire firm and deserves a bonus?"
She throws her hands out, looking offended. “Can I dunk myself?” She proposed, making you all chuckle. “No, I’m serious.” Though, she laughs along, rolling her eyes lightheartedly before relenting. “Fine, besides me, I’d have to say…” she ponders, looking around before pointing both fingers at Cleo. "Give my girl her bonus!"
The whole table cheered as Cleo did a cute jog up to the podium, settling in the chair as Rima dunked her.
Rima then ended her turn, and the game, by walking over to Rafe, climbing onto his lap, and delivering a sexy kiss. And though you know it meant nothing, you hated the fact that it still made your chest tighten.
Because it meant you still cared.
BY the time evening arrived, the villa had settled into silence. The challenge had long been over, but the residual drama was still looming.
In the girls' dressing room, the core group—you, Rima, Cleo, and Sarah—were huddled around the mirrors.
"Okay, Sarah, we need to address the elephant in the room first," Cleo said, leaning against the counter as she brushed out her hair. "You kissing JJ? That was the last thing I expected."
“Me too,” you added, smoothing serum into your skin. “What was that about?”
Sarah let out a heavy sigh, sitting down on her stool. "John B and I had a talk right before the challenge.” She starts. “...He admitted that he kissed Delaney outside of a challenge while they were at Casa Amor.”
“What?” Rima cuts in, eyebrows shooting into her hairline.
“Yeah,” Sarah slumps. “I was just so angry, and wanted to do something to make him as upset as I was. When I told him afterward that it was just a petty move, he got pretty pissed. He said he was being completely honest with me about Delaney, and he feels like I’m not acknowledging that fact and only being pissed that he kissed someone else when that’s ‘literally the point’." She puts in air quotes, rolling her eyes lightly. "I mean, he's right, I guess. But still, I don't like that he waited until the next day to tell me..."
Sarah scoffed, looking at her reflection. "I told him that if he feels like shoving his tongue down every girl's throat that looks exactly like me is the point of the show, then he should feel completely free to keep doing that.”
You all made noises of approval at her words.
"What about you and Pope?" you asked, turning to Cleo and leaning against the vanity. “I didn’t expect you to kiss him, to be honest.”
Cleo shrugged. "I only kissed him to see if the spark was still there," Cleo admitted bluntly. "And unfortunately, it is.” She groans. “And now I feel like I’ve just made things ten times harder for myself with Justin..."
Rima laughed, nudging your shoulder playfully. "What we really need to get into is you kissing JJ," she wiggles her eyebrows. “He looked about ready to float after you with heart eyes like they do in cartoons.”
You made a dramatic, exaggerated face of horror, scrunching your nose up. "No, please it was so weird. JJ is like my annoying little brother."
Rima smirked, sliding a glance your way as she found now a good time to start trying to make good on her alliance with Rafe. "You know... you could have easily chosen to kiss Rafe. He was sitting right there, y'know, and his eyes were glued to you."
The mention of his name made your face harden. "Fuck that, and fuck him," you snapped, side-eyes flashing across the room toward where Sofia was getting ready for bed. "I’m not interested in being someone's sloppy seconds."
Sofia didn't say a word, but her jaw clenched as she overheard the comment. Rima, smirking as she caught your shade, then turned to Haja, trying to switch topics before whatever it was between you two boiled over. "Haja, can we address you…kissing Miles?"
Haja simply dismissed it with a casual shrug, applying her moisturizer. "I mean, the man is an absolutely terrible person, but there’s no denying he’s a good kisser."
A few minutes later, the newer Casa girls—Haja, Kaitlyn, and Sofia—left the dressing room to head to the bedroom, leaving the four of you alone to actually talk.
Sarah turned to you, her expression serious. "Finally,” she groaned, awaiting their exit. “Can we talk about Sofia dunking you during her turn? It didn't even make any sense with the question asked."
"And she seemed way too happy to see you covered in that shit," Cleo noted sharply, pursing her lips.
"Oh, please, we all know why she did it," Rima added, a deadpan expression across her features.
You let out an exhausted sigh, dropping the conversation, unwilling to give Sofia any more energy. "If she wants to play dirty, she has the wrong bitch.” You scoffed.
OVER in the guys' bathroom, the atmosphere was equally tense. John B, JJ, Pope, and Rafe were crowded around the sinks, while Miles, Theo, and Justin had already entered the bedroom with the Casa girls.
John B was running a hand through his hair, spazzing out. "Is it bad that I regret telling Sarah the truth? I feel like now she’s just trying to punish me for doing what we came here to do, which was exploring options.” He sighs. “I don't understand why it matters so much anyway because at the end of the day, I still came back to her. I chose her."
JJ let out an equally exhausted sigh, looking discouraged. "And I don't know if Haja is actually here for me. I think she’s super sexy and confident, and I love that about her. But I’m starting to think she’s just using me as some kind of piece in her game to make Miles mad..."
Pope looked just as crushed, staring down at the drain as he rinsed his face. "I was so worried after the recoupling that bringing Kaitlyn back was the wrong choice and that I’d ruined all my chances with Cleo. But honestly? The kiss today during the challenge... it gave me hope, man. I still felt that same spark we had when we first met. Just the simple fact that she chose to kiss me gives me hope that I can fix what I broke with her."
Rafe let out a loud, frustrated groan from his corner. "I’m pissed, man," he ranted to the guys. “I have never had to go through this much trouble dealing with a girl in my life. And I didn’t even do anything wrong for once!"
He shook his head, wounded. "She knew damn well she could have kissed me during that challenge. And instead, she chose to kiss JJ—no offense,"
"None taken, dude," JJ muttered.
"And then," Rafe continued, his voice cracking, "seeing her kiss Theo in person? Up close? Fuck that. I could've hurled. I still haven't eaten..."
John B looked up, adjusting his towel. "What about Sofia dunking her though?” He raises an eyebrow. “That was weird as hell. It was like Sofia was trying to assert her dominance or something."
"She was," Rafe seethed, his eyes narrowing. "And that’s exactly why I don't want her anywhere near me or her. She does petty bullshit like that." Rafe let out a jagged breath, his shoulders slumping as the anger drained out of him. He leaned back against the bathroom wall, hands dropping limply to his sides.
"But I don't even give a fuck about Sofia," He muttered, his voice dropping into a rough whisper. He looked across at the three of them, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I just... I miss her, man. I miss Y/N so fucking much, shit’s drivin’ me out of my mind."
The guys all slowly stopped what they were doing. JJ paused mid-shave, and Pope lowered his towel, the bathroom going quiet as everyone clocked the shakiness in his voice.
"I spent days sleeping outside on those damn daybeds, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, just counting down the hours until I could get back to her," Rafe ranted, the words pouring out of him like a dam breaking. "I did everything right. I kept our conversation in Soul Ties in my head the entire time. All I wanted was to get back to her. And then I walk back in... and she’s holding hands with some dude she met five days ago? It's like no matter what I do in life, the universe always finds some way to fuck me over."
Rafe shook his head, a broken chuckle escaping his lips, his blue eyes going glassy.
JJ blinked rapidly, staring at him in absolute disbelief. He nudged John B’s arm, pointing a finger. "Whoa... bro. Hold on a second. Dude, are you about to cry right now?"
John B and Pope immediately exchanged a staggered look. The three of them stood frozen, staring at Rafe like he had just grown a second head. This was Rafe Cameron.
Rafe didn't cry. He got angry, he got loud—but he did not get teary eyed over a girl.
Rafe’s face flushed a deeply embarrassed shade of crimson, voice cracking sharply as he tried to bark back. "No. I’m not fucking crying.” He scowled, but it was evident.
"Nah, man, you're definitely mistin’ up," JJ teased, a grin breaking across his face. "Man's completely whipped."
"Fuck off," Rafe snapped, but there was no real anger or malice in his tone as he muttered under his breath.
"We’re just messing with you, man," Pope stepped in quickly, his tone shifting into something much softer as he patted Rafe firmly on the shoulder.
"Yeah, we’re only joking," John B added earnestly, tossing his towel aside and walking over to stand in front of him. The teasing dropped as the trio of boys stepped forward in silent comradery. "Look, we know you're hurt. We were hurt for you.” He said. “We saw how you were at Casa, you were the most loyal guy there, to be honest. She just needs time to realize that."
JJ sighed, his expression turning serious as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “We’ve got your back. We’ll help you out with her, however we can." He let out a light, honest chuckle. "Because honestly? Without her, you’re miserable, man. You’re walkin’ around this place like a fuckin’...caged tiger, scowling at the walls and shit, and it’s making everyone else miserable.” He adds honestly, though lighthearted. “For our own sanity, we gotta get you two back together."
Rafe let out a long breath through his nose, his shoulders relaxing as he looked at the three boys he could confidently call his friends. He didn't say thank you—he couldn't bring himself to be that vulnerable, only further proving just how much progress he’d made with you and you alone—but the desperate look in his eyes softened as he gave the boys a curt nod.
CLOSER to midnight, the house had finally gone dark. You were lying in bed, your mind spinning with a million conflicting thoughts, unable to sleep.
Feeling thirsty and overwhelmed, you quietly slid out from the sheets, and from up under Theo’s light embrace, and crept downstairs to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.
The villa was drenched in a deep blue, moonlight shining, the night quiet. You walked into the kitchen area, reaching for a glass as you yawned, when you froze.
Rafe was standing there, in the dark and in the silence, awkwardness settling over the space as you locked eyes.
Both of you were angry and confused and felt some level of betrayal, but beneath all of that, there was an evident sadness radiating off both of you—feelings don’t just disappear and now that your connection was no longer being nurtured, it was just up in the air, and neither of you knew what to do with it.
You were the first to break the gaze, ignoring his presence, turning your back to him as you filled your glass from the water dispenser.
Rafe watched you, his chest rising and falling with a heavy, sad breath.
He was the first to speak.
"So, you're really just not gonna speak to me?"
You bit the inside of your cheek, turned around slowly, holding the glass tightly in your hand, fixing him with a cold stare. "We have nothing left to speak about, Rafe.” You bit out. “I made my choice. You made yours."
"But I didn't, though." Rafe huffed out, taking a step closer to you, his eyes wide with a desperate fury. "That's what I’ve been trying to tell you, but you won’t listen. I didn't choose her—"
"I saw the video, Rafe—"
"And the video didn’t show you everything." he argued back, voice cracking.
“It showed me enough.”
“...So, that’s just it?” Rafe asked, hurt filling his eyes. “You’re gonna throw us away, me and you, over what you think you saw? What you think you know—”
“So, you didn’t tell her you missed her?” You asked, unamused, eyes glued to his now. To him, you looked calm, casual, checked out. But on the inside, your heart was racing.
Rafe sighed, pinching the skin between his eyebrows. “I did, but I didn’t mean it—”
“And then, let me guess, I’m supposed to believe you didn’t let her kiss you, either. That you didn’t kiss her back—”
“I didn’t.”
“And I don’t believe you.”
“Because you don’t want to.” Rafe threw out, weak. “I told you I was done holding shit back from you, that I would tell you the truth, and that’s what I’m doing. Like, I don’t understand, is this your past trust issues or something—”
“Don’t—”
“Or is it the guy you brought back? Do you feel like you have to push me away to be with him?”
You took a step forward, the glass of water trembling slightly in your grip. "This has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you. You don't get to turn your screw-ups around and blame my judgment."
"But that's exactly what you're doing." Rafe fired back, his voice rising now, desperate. He stepped right back into your space. "You're projecting. You're standing here looking right at me, but you're seeing your damn ex.” You huffed, letting out a humorless laugh, but deep down…you knew he was right. “You're looking at me and you're just waiting for me to turn into a piece of shit ‘cause that’s what you’re used to."
"Will you stop—"
"No, I'm not gonna stop. If you’re gonna hear me say anything, you’re gonna hear me say this," he argued, his eyes wide, swimming with frustration and hurt. "I know I have a temper, and I know I've been a mess, but I have been nothing but real with you about my past and my feelings.” He pleads. “You know I’m being honest. I can see it in your eyes, angel.” The nickname had you taking a deep breath to steady yourself. It’d been days since you heard it. You didn’t realize how much you missed hearing it leave his lips. “You know I didn't do anything wrong over there."
He was almost right.
It was something that had been lingering in the back of your mind, nagging you every time the silence got too loud.
What if he was telling the truth? What if he really didn't do anything?
But then you look back on all the times you had given your ex, or any other guy, the benefit of the doubt and it always came full circle, slapping you right back in the face, reminding you how stupid you were to believe them. So yeah, you pondered on the possibility of Rafe telling the truth, but your heart was begging you to not possibly put yourself through that again, because while Rafe had opened up to you about parts of himself and you had done the same, you both still had a really long way to go before you could confidently say that you knew each other. And your heart and mind and body were screaming at you, all saying different things
He took another half-step, closing the distance. "I might not know all of you, yet, but I know you enough. Enough to know that you're sitting here, overthinking it because you're terrified that if you trust me, I’m gonna make you look stupid—”
“You already did.”
Your jaw tightened, a fresh pool of tears pricking behind your eyelids.
Rafe sighed, defeated.
“...I’m not the guy that you’re so afraid of me being.” He says softly. “But I don’t know what else I can say or do to get you to understand that. To believe it.”
Suddenly, the fury between you two evaporated. You were standing face to face, inches apart, breathing the same air.
Rafe’s eyes dropped from your gaze, tracking down the lines of your face, the slight frown on your lips as his jaw worked silently. Slowly, with a trembling hand, he reached up and you tensed, your heart beating violently, but you didn't pull back as his thumb gently brushed against your cheek.
His touch felt warm against your face as he rubbed a spot right near your jawline, thumb lingering tenderly for a moment before he slowly pulled his hand away, looking down at his finger.
"You had..." Rafe murmured, his voice soft, entirely empty of its previous anger and frustration. "You still had slime on your face."
You stared up at him, breath hitching, the proximity, the familiar scent of his cologne and the sound of the ocean in the distance completely clouding your logic.
For a split second, the divide between you vanished. Your eyes drifted down to his lips, and Rafe leaned in closer, his head tilting down as he prepared to close the remaining space between you.
…When the memory of the video flashed in your mind like a warning sign.
You snapped yourself out of the trance, yanking your face back from his touch, eyeing the dried flake of pink slime still on his thumb.
"...Yeah,” you sighed. “Courtesy of the girl you missed so much," you snarked, the words cutting through the moment.
Rafe flinched, his face falling. "Angel, please—"
"Just stop, Rafe.” You shook your head, turning to grab your water glass from the counter, ready to bolt back upstairs.
He let out a desperate sigh, his hands hovering in the empty space between you. "Please... just let me explain," he pleaded, his voice rough. "I miss you. I missed you every single day I was over there. I miss you even when I know you’re around somewhere but I hate that I can’t see you.” He admitted, eyes growing slightly. “Why are you making it so hard for me? Why can't you just trust me?"
Before you could even open your mouth to counter him, the sound of bare feet hitting the ground made you both freeze, turning towards the sound.
Sofia stepped into the kitchen—that's why, you thought to yourself. She was holding an empty water bottle and the second her tired eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight and she realized how close you and Rafe were standing in the kitchen, surprised by your presence at all, the air in the space turned awkward.
"Oh..." Sofia dragged out, her voice dropping into that same soft, innocent tone that sounded entirely too practiced. She stopped a few feet away, clutching the bottle to her chest. "Sorry. I just came down to get some water."
She offered a sweet smile, but you didn't look at her lips—you looked straight at her eyes.
Even in the low light of the villa, you could see the hostility written plainly across her face. Sofia was not fond of you, she’d made that clear, and it was obvious that she was furious to find you and Rafe huddled up together in the middle of the night, too close for her comfort. Her jaw was tight, a bitter twitch of irritation flashing in her eyes before she quickly smoothed her expression back over before she turned her back, filling her water bottle.
"Speak of the devil," you muttered, your voice cold. You grabbed your glass from the counter, done with the situation.
"Wait, don't go," Rafe said frantically. He reached out, his fingers catching your wrist to try and get you to stay. "We weren’t done talking. Just—"
"We are now.” you hissed. “You’ve got all the company you need." you seethed, yanking your arm out of his grip.
And you didn't give him another second, and you definitely didn't give Sofia the satisfaction of watching you argue.
Shooting them both a final glare, you spun on your heel and sauntered out of the kitchen, your footsteps echoing as you headed straight back upstairs to the bedroom.
He sighed, cursing to himself as a single tear fell from his eye, quickly dragging both of his hands down his face, shaking his emotions off. Or, at least, trying to. He had taken one step forward, planning to return to his solitude on the daybeds and sulk when she spoke.
"Well, now that she’s finally gone,” She started, shifting her weight, a smug grin on her lips. “We can actually finish what we started.”
THE next morning, you were woken up by the feeling of heat on your face, the Fiji sun beaming through the tall window. It felt like punishment, exposing every washed out expression and heavy heart traveling through the villa.
The glam room was already an obstacle course when you walked in—discarded spray cans, tangled curling iron cords, and half-empty water bottles.
Everyone got ready, per usual, the guys bringing up breakfast and swiftly exiting. You’d disappeared to the adjoined bathroom at some point to brush your teeth, coming back to that damn smoothie right in front of your mirror, next to the plate of eggs and fruit Theo had given to you earlier.
But this time, without the pressure of Rafe’s gaze and the desire to push him away, you drank it.
Too engrossed in getting ready yourself, you didn’t notice everyone slowly filtering out to mingle, leaving only you and Rima in a comfortable silence.
"You look like you're about to fight a war, girlie," Rima broke the ice. “I haven’t seen that smile of yours all morning,” She noted, turning her sharp eyes toward you. "And you look like you haven't slept more than twenty minutes."
You let out a dry laugh. "I haven't. My mind has been running laps since last night. This place is starting to feel like an experiment I didn't sign up for..."
Rima hummed, smoothing lotion over her knuckles. She took a step closer, her eyes searching yours. "I can imagine. The energy still kind of sucks.” She admits, shrugging. “How are you actually doing, though? How are things with you and Theo?"
"Theo is…great," you said quickly, voice flat. "He’s been nothing but sweet to me. He made me breakfast, he listens... he’s exactly the kind of guy a girl should want."
"...But he’s not the guy you want." Rima countered smoothly, her tone conversational, though the bait was dangling right in front of your face. You glanced at her, a pained expression on your face as she said what you weren’t willing to. She leaned against the adjacent mirror, crossing her arms over her chest. "Babe, you’ve got to face the music. When I walked past the patio this morning, Rafe looked like he’d been hit by a bus." Her face twisted. "It's a very hard sight to look at his big ass being all sad. He’s hurt. Like, really hurt."
You kept your eyes fixed on the mirror, refusing to look at her. "Rafe is fine."
"No, he’s not," Rima pressed, her voice dropping. She tilted her head, watching the way your jaw clenched. "And I don't know if you’ve noticed... but he’s been sleeping out on those hard ass daybeds since he got back from Casa."
"Good.” You quip. “The daybeds have excellent airflow," you snarked bitterly, your voice rising just a fraction. "He can stay out there until the finale for all I care."
“Don’t do that. I know you care. You know you care.” Rima let out a slow breath, shaking her head. She leaned in just a bit closer, her eyes locking onto yours. "He told me what happened in the kitchen last night. He pulled me first thing this morning, before the sun was even fully up. He’s trying to make it right, babe. But you’re not letting him…."
Your eyes narrowed, chest heaving with a spike of irritation that was really directed toward no one but yourself.
"Why does it sound like you're taking his side right now?" you bit out. “Did you forget what we all saw in that video?"
"I didn’t forget and I’m not taking his side. I’m really not," Rima said, keeping her voice level. "I’m just saying... he looks really damn hurt for a guy who supposedly wants to be with his ex. If he wanted Sofia, it’s clear that she’s wide open for him." She rolls her eyes, making a sound of disgust. "But instead, he’s pacing around the villa, making smoothies that he knows will probably get poured out, though I see you were more open-minded today—” She smirks, eyeing the half-full glass. “And begging anyone who will listen to help him get through to you."
"He’s not hurt. He just feels guilty…” you scoffed, a breath escaping your lips as you rubbed a hand aggressively over your face. “He got caught and now that his game plan blew up in his face and I actually brought someone back, his ego is bruised. That’s all it is."
Rima didn't push back against your words or your anger. She just stood there, her features softening into a look of sympathetic pity. She let the silence hang between you for a few seconds before she spoke again, her voice dropping into a more serious tone.
"I’m just saying... maybe we misunderstood something about what happened over at Casa.”
The sentence hung in the air and you stared up at her as the logic of her words began to fight against the wall of anger you’d been building. You let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping in exhaustion.
"You believe him, don't you?" you asked quietly, voice cracking slightly as you looked at her.
"I do," Rima said honestly, stepping forward and placing a supportive hand on your knee. "I don't think that man is lying to you."
She shifted her weight, her eyes locking onto yours. "I have looked into the faces of a lot of guilty men. I know what a liar looks like. And when I looked at Rafe, I didn't see a guilty man. I saw a man who was genuinely terrified of losing the one good thing he’s found in this place."
You looked down at your hands, your throat growing tight as your brain scrambled to find another excuse, another fruitless reason, and before you could stop yourself, the words started pouring out of your mouth.
"Last night," you whispered, your voice shaking. "In the kitchen, when we were arguing... he told me I have 'trust issues', that I’m just waiting for him to turn into a piece of shit because ‘that’s what I’m used to’." You let out a choked, hollow laugh, a tear escaping your eyelashes, tracing down your cheek. "And the worst part...is that deep down, I know he’s right. But, even then, it’s like I can’t help it. I want to believe him, that there’s more to it, that it wasn’t what it looked like. But I’m so scared of looking fucking dumb."
Rima listened, her hand squeezing your knee tightly as you opened up.
"I’ve spent my entire life dealing with men who treated me like an option," you confessed, the tears started coming faster. "I am so used to giving a guy the benefit of the doubt, letting my guard down, and then looking like a complete idiot for it."
Rima let out a soft sigh, leaning down so she was at eye level with you. Her hand moved from your knee up to your arm, her touch warm.
"Look at me," Rima ordered gently. "I hear you. But let me be real with you, as a friend—it’s not healthy, and it is not fair, to project the mistakes of your past relationships onto Rafe."
She shook her head, her voice firm. "Rafe has done nothing since the moment you two paired up but try for you. He’s been working through his own shit, purely because he wants to better himself so he can be better for you. He laid his cards on the table, even asked you to close things off, and he has consistently shown you who he wants to be. It is not worth throwing away a connection that is clearly that deep and that real...based on a fear you have because of how some loser back home treated you.” She tells you. “Rafe is not that guy."
You wiped furiously at your face with the back of your hand, nodding at her words..
"Look, I know we don't know exactly what went down, minute by minute, over at Casa," Rima admitted, offering you a small, encouraging smile. "But in my gut? I truly believe that boy didn't do anything. I’m pretty sure he might even be falling for you. Anyone with eyes can see it." She let out a loud laugh, trying to lighten the mood as she patted your shoulder. "And hey... if it turns out I’m wrong and he actually did do some shady shit? You can happily beat my ass first for giving you bad advice, and then I will personally help you beat his from one side of this villa to the other.” She offers. “Deal?"
A small, wet chuckle escaped your lips as you looked at her. You drew your lips into a tight line, turning back toward your mirror to fix the makeup your tears had ruined.
"Deal," you murmured softly. "But... I can't make any promises, Rima."
"I don't expect you to give him a pass, sweetie," She smiled, standing up and heading toward the door, hand on the knob. "Just give him a chance to speak."
BY midday, the Fiji heat had reached its peak, and the islanders were scattered about the property in small clusters.
Down by the edge of the lower terrace, Rafe was sitting on a daybed, his fingers mindlessly pulling at a loose thread on his shorts. He looked isolated, a cloud of frustration tracing his features.
The sound of sandals clicking against the concrete made him snap his head up, finding Rima sauntering down the path. She didn't waste any time, sliding onto the cushions directly next to him.
Rafe sat up straight instantly, his blue eyes wide, drilling into her face. "Well?" he burst out, voice anxious. "Did you talk to her?"
“What ever happened to ‘hello’, ‘good morning’, ‘how are you’?” Rima took a slow sip of her water, letting him sweat for a fraction of a second before she rolled her eyes when he deadpanned her. "Jesus, yes, I talked to her, Rafe."
"And?" He leaned in closer. "What did she say?"
"Long story short, she’s scared and hurt." Rima said straightforwardly. "And that’s probably the reason why it’s so damn hard for you to get through to her right now. She’s emotional, so she’s not very open to reason or logic."
Rafe let out a frustrated groan, dragging his palms down his face. "I don't get it, Rima. I told her last night... I swear I didn't do anything wrong over there. Why can't she just see it for what it is?"
"Because she’s terrified, Rafe," Rima explained, crossing her legs. "And she did talk to me about last night. When you called her out in the kitchen about not being able to trust guys because of things that happened to her in her past? She probably won’t admit it to you, but...she did tell me that she thinks you were right."
Rafe’s hands dropped from his face, eyes narrowing as he processed her words, a sudden look of curiosity and concern gracing his features as a question came to mind.
"...How did she act when her ex was here?"
Rima let out a heavy breath, her expression turning somber as she recalled the expression that had crossed your face at the start of Casa. "She was pissed. She didn’t want him here at all. Like, not even a little bit. The second she realized what was going on, her entire face went blank and it was like her whole personality just flatlined." She tells him honestly. "She barely spoke a single word to the man," Rima continued. "Every time he tried to strike up a conversation, she would immediately stand up, walk away, anything but acknowledge him. She wouldn't even look him in the eye. I wanna say that the very few times they interacted, she was either chewing him out or glaring him down.” She said. “And let me tell you, as a woman watching another woman? Whatever happened between them, it definitely left a mark on her."
Rafe sat completely still, his breathing shallow as Rima's words and what you’d told him about your past painted a vivid picture of the pain you had been running from.
"So, I guess, when she watched that video of you and Sofia," Rima pointed out, her voice gentle but firm. "She got the exact same feelings that she used to get in that relationship. Or maybe another. Either way, her brain probably convinced her that the cycle was bound to repeat itself with you. That’s probably the reason why she’s being so stubborn and pushing you away—she thinks she’s just protecting herself from looking like an idiot again."
Rafe let out a long breath, his head dropping as he stared at his feet. "I hate that I made her feel like that," he whispered, voice shaking. "I didn't want to be another bad memory in her life." He shook his head, a desperate, angry edge returning to his voice. "And Sofia being here... it’s just making everything fucking worse. She’s doing it on purpose. She knows exactly what she’s doing to her head, and it’s driving me crazy because I can't force Sofia to leave, and I can't force Y/N to listen."
Rima offered him a supportive smile, patting his arm reassuringly. "You can't force anything in here, Rafe. But you can be patient. Just give her a little space to breathe, and when you do get a chance to talk to her, don't get defensive.” She advised. “Just...lay your heart out on the line. That's the only girl advice I can give you right now."
Rafe looked up at her, his eyes full of a silent gratitude. He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders as he tried to gather his composure. "Thank you, Rima. Seriously. For doing this for me. For me and her."
Before Rima could even respond, the sharp ping of multiple phones echoed across the pool deck. The tri-tone chime cut through the afternoon air, causing every islander in the yard to stop in their tracks.
Down by the pool, JJ pulled his device from his swim shorts, his eyes widening as he scanned the notification. "Yo! Text, y'all!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the lawn as the islanders began to migrate around him.
You walked out onto the lower terrace, your fingers tightly wrapped around your water bottle. You took a seat on a beanbag next to Sarah and Cleo. Rafe walked over from his chat with Rima, her joining the three of you as his eyes locked directly onto your face the second you appeared, watching you talk to your girls, watching your head fall back as you laughed at something Cleo said.
God, he missed when you would laugh like that with him.
JJ opened the message, his voice ringing out clearly.
"Islanders, the public has been watching your every move since the dramatic fallout of Casa Amor. They’ve seen the tears, the arguments, and the broken trust, and they think one couple desperately needs a little bit of time away from the drama to sort out their unfinished business."
A collective gasp ran across the lawn, and your stomach dropped as JJ read the final lines.
"Y/N and Rafe... the viewers have voted for the two of you to escape the villa and head out on a private, one-on-one date outside the villa! Please go get dressed and head to the front entrance. #TimeOut #FaceTheTruth #UnfinishedBusiness"
And that was when the air went still, a genuine smile breaking out across Rafe’s face for the first time all day, hope visible in his expression. He looked straight at you, his blue eyes bright, a spark in them that you genuinely missed. But one you also felt bad for dimming. But you still weren’t sure if you should.
The guys seemed happy for Rafe, even Theo clapping him on the back as they pushed him towards the villa to start getting ready, while the girls sat with you, not saying much, trying to gauge your reaction first.
Your jaw was clenched as you sat silent, not knowing how to feel, when Rima leaned over, whispering. “Just one chance,” she reminded, and you looked to her, vulnerability swimming in your eyes as she nudged you, kissing your cheek. “You got this.” She encouraged, pulling you up to drag you a few feet away from the others, wanting her next words to only be to you. “Let him be the good guy for once. Don't force him to be the bad one just because you think it'll save you from being hurt.” She told you firmly, no room for debate. “Promise me you’ll at least do that.”
You huffed, your shoulders slumping. “I promise.” You nodded once.
And that seemed to satisfy the woman as she smiled, tugging you forward into a brief hug before the gathering broke up to let you get ready, heading toward the staircase. Though, before you could even reach it, a hand gently caught your wrist.
You whirled around to find Theo standing there, his eyes shadowed with that same quiet anxiety that had poured itself over him since your talk yesterday. It was only then had you realized that you hadn’t spoken much since then. Even last night, he was sleep when you climbed into the bed, silent tears running down your cheeks.
But right now, he didn't look angry.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice low as he looked down at your face. "...Look, I’m sorry for walking away from you yesterday."
You frowned, knowing he had nothing to apologize for. “Theo, you have nothing to be sorry for—”
“I do,” he dismissed your dismissal. “I knew what I signed up for coming in and I can’t be upset with you for not having it all figured out.” He explained. “I just…I want you to know that I’m not here to tie you down or force you into anything. I know what you and Rafe have is complicated. Just... go on the date. And be honest with yourself.” He advised, though there was something behind his eyes. Like he knew what that might mean for him. “I just want you to know that you’ll still have me right here when you get back, piccola. I’m not going anywhere.” He assured. “...Not unless you want me to."
The sheer grace of his words made a lump form in your throat. You offered him a tight, grateful nod. “I know,” you choked out, fighting tears. “Thank you.” You said, hugging the man before turning to head up to the dressing room.
THE car ride out to the date location was…weird. To put it mildly. It didn’t help you’d spent the last hour getting ready and trying not to spiral.
The black SUV wound its way along the rocky coastal roads, the only sound between you and Rafe being the low sound of the engine, the AC, and the distant crash of the waves through the open windows. You sat pressed against the door, your eyes fixed firmly out the window, refusing to look in his direction.
Rafe sat beside you, his hands resting on his knees, his knuckles white as he repeatedly curled and uncurled his fists, a nervous habit. He kept opening and closing his mouth, thinking of something to say then immediately losing the thought, his throat working silently as he fought his own nerves.
When the car finally came to a stop, the driver held the door open, and you stepped out into a secluded cliffside sanctuary—a rustic wooden table for two right at the edge of the plateau, overlooking the endless expanse of the ocean. The setting sun was beginning to paint the sky in deep shades of amber, casting long, golden shadows across the ground. A bottle of champagne sat chilling in a silver bucket next to a platter of fresh berries and charcuterie, but all of this did absolutely nothing to ease the ball of anxiety sitting behind your ribs.
You walked over, your heels clicking softly against the stone. Though, Rafe was quicker, getting ahead and pulling your chair out for you, not making a big deal of the gesture as he fixed you with a fleeting smile before sliding into the chair opposite yours.
It was silent. Awkward. Tense.
Should you speak? No, he should speak first.
Does it even really fucking matter?
You reach for your glass of champagne after he pours it, keeping your eyes on the bubbles, refusing to meet his gaze as your leg bounced relentlessly underneath the table. But as you finally forced yourself to look up, peering through your eyelashes, you noticed that Rafe had a small, gentle smile on his face as he sat there, staring at you.
He looked incredibly handsome in a crisp white button-up shirt, a soft, boyish drowsiness that showed just how happy he was to finally have you in a space where nobody else could interrupt. A space where it was just you and him and he could explain.
He took a deep breath, rolling his sleeves just below his elbows and resting his forearms on the table as he looked across at you.
"...Thank you. For not jumping out of the car," Rafe started quietly, trying to catch you gaze, lighten the mood, and get you to say something. "I know this is the last place you want to be right now, angel. I know you don't really like me right now, but I’m glad you’re here with me."
You kept your face completely neutral, chewing your lip as you continued to watch the champagne bubbles jump. "The public voted, Rafe.” You remind him, but the word weren’t as bitter as most of yours had been towards him lately. “I didn't have a choice."
"Well, I’m glad they did," Rafe confessed as he leaned in closer. "Because I’ve been trying to get you to listen to me, and I’m finally able to just sit down and explain everything to you without anyone else walking in." He paused, his jaw clenching slightly as he gathered his thoughts, his eyes locking onto yours as you finally lifted your head, relaxing into the chair as you set the glass down and splayed both your hands out on the table.
You thought about saying something, but then you remembered Rima’s word about just being quiet and listening.
"I don’t think you understand," Rafe began, his voice wavering. "Waking up that morning and realizing we were being carted off... all the guys were excited, man.” He laughs at the memory. “They were hitting each other, laughing as everyone tried to pack their shit without waking you all up, whisper-shouting ‘Casa’ over and over on the way out... But the entire time I was sitting in that car riding over there, I kept you in my mind."
He reached across the table, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it drop onto the wood, not wanting to push you too far. "When we got there, I was immediately ready to leave. No joke, I swear to you. I never wanted to go in the first place." He throws in. "And whether it was cold, hot, humid as hell... I slept outside by myself on those fuck ass daybeds the entire time. And, without you curled up on me, they actually kind of suck to sleep on.” He throws out, trying to get a smile out of you. He got the ghost of one, but it was enough. “I couldn't stomach the thought of sharing a bed with someone else. And, outside of the challenges, I did nothing. I didn't touch anyone, I didn't flirt, I didn’t kiss anyone,” he emphasized, eyes boring into yours.
You listened, your chest tightening, but you kept your mouth shut, letting him speak.
"And of course, the girls were relentless," Rafe muttered. "They’re bombshells, and even worse, they’ve been watching all of us, using what they've seen to try and secure a spot in the main villa, so they knew exactly how to play dirty. They would pull me and try to talk shit about you. They’d make little sly comments about how you probably didn't appreciate me, or how you were probably already onto a new guy the second my back was turned. But I shot that shit down. Every single time.” He affirmed. “I wasn't going for any of it because nobody could even hold a candle to you."
Rafe took in a jagged breath, his face falling as he addressed the elephant in the room.
“The… kiss. With Sofia.” Rafe starts, his chest heaving as he watches your jaw tighten. “I didn't start that, angel. I didn’t kiss her back. Not even close. It was after that challenge where she'd already kissed me once, and I was screaming at her," He admits, painfully. He didn't exactly want you to know about that, knowing his temper was something he'd been trying to work on. "I was telling her we were over, done, that I’ve been done.” His blue eyes bore into yours, desperate for you to see the truth. “But Sofia... she’s always been persistent. She’s used to getting whatever the hell she wants because that’s how I treated her in our relationship, whenever things were good anyway. So mid-argument, she just...lunged forward, throwing herself at me.” He huffs, his nostrils flaring. “The second her lips hit mine, I swear to God, I shoved her off me. And I can see why you think—”
“You said you missed her.” You cut him off, your voice cracking as you shift away from him, your eyebrows pinching. “You say you didn’t initiate it or kiss her back, okay...but you gave her a reason to think it was okay, Rafe.”
Rafe lets out a jagged sigh, dropping his head into his hands. “...There’s no good way to explain this. I said I missed her… I did.” He nods slowly, rubbing his jaw as he picks his next words with agonizing care. “But it wasn't like that.”
“You keep saying that—” You scoff.
“Because it wasn't.” He cuts you off, finally reaching out to grasp your hand. “I told her I missed the version of her that I thought was real. I don't remember what I said word-for-word, and I’m sorry I can’t give you that." He pleads. "But all I meant in that moment was that I missed the person she was. When we first met. I don't know if that makes it any better or worse, but that's the truth. That's what you didn't hear. I was not telling Sofia that I missed her in a way that meant I wanted her back in my life." He clarifies.
"I told her I missed who I thought she was, but that person doesn't exist anymore. But I told her it doesn't matter anyway because I have someone else now—you.” He tells you sternly. “She took it the wrong way, and the second she kissed me, I pushed her back and walked away because...I didn’t know what the fuck else to do.”
Rafe stopped pacing his words, his posture sagging as he looked at your silent form across the table. The anger left him, replaced by a quiet heartbreak as he looked at your face.
"And walking back in, seeing you with Theo... it breaks my heart in a lot of ways. It really does," Rafe whispered, a tear finally escaping his eye and tracing down his cheek. "I’m not gonna lie and act like it doesn't kill me to see him with you.” He says, having to choke the words out like they pain him physically. “But... I’m also not gonna hold you back if I’m not what you want anymore. If Theo is truly the guy you want, and he’s making you happy and giving you the peace I couldn't... then I’ll stay away.” His bottom lip quivering for a fraction of a second as his eyes set on yours, fighting the tears you can see building in his waterline. “I will let you go."
He leaned closer across the table. "But if you even still have just a tiny feeling left inside you from the moment we first met, from that first blindfolded kiss... then I am begging you, just give me one more chance. You can ask me whatever the fuck you want about Casa. I don’t care if you ask me every day forever, I am willing to give you every single detail. I have nothing to hide from you.” He says confidently, throwing a hand out towards the scenery. “You can go ask any of the guys who were there with me. I swear I haven't told them to say a single word to cover for me or anything, I’ve been too busy losing my mind over you. Go ask them yourself. They’ll tell you the same thing."
For two days, you had carried your anger like a sword, using the image of that video to keep your walls up, to hide from the terrifying vulnerability of your own feelings. But sitting across from him now, watching Rafe beg before your eyes—his voice shaking, his legs covered in mosquito bites, and his eyes swimming with tears—you conceded.
And you couldn’t stop any of it—the way your breath hitched, the way your lips quivering as a violent sob tore out of your throat as you let your head fall forward, burying your face in your hands, the tears overflowing.
"Hey, no... hey, angel, don't cry, please," Rafe murmured frantically, out of his chair in a second, rounding the table and dropping to his knees right beside your chair. He didn't force you into an embrace, but his large, warm hands gently wrapped around your wrists, slowly pulling your hands away from your face so he could look at you.
"I’m sorry...," you sobbed as you looked down at his tortured face through your blurred vision. " I don’t know... seeing you kiss her... and hearing you say miss her, after everything you told me... it just really fucked with me. That shit hurt.” Your voice wavered. “And I didn't know what the hell you and Sofia had going on, and I was just so terrified that I was being sucked into it, and I don't want that. All I wanted was you and it just—"
You let out a ragged breath. "...I have never been the only girl, Rafe.” You confess, teary eyes looking at him. “I have always been the girl that gets cheated on, the girl men cheat with. I’ve been the girl that guys use as a placeholder just to get over another woman, and I’ve been the girl left holding on to what was while everyone else moves on."
You play with the folded edge of his sleeve your trembling fingers, your voice a desperate whisper. "I came here to get away from that, to find a guy who actually saw me as his first choice, without hesitation. And this whole situation, ever since I got that video, I’ve felt like the universe is just laughing in my face. I didn't want you to put me right back in that box, Rafe. I couldn't handle looking that stupid again."
Rafe listened to you, his own eyes spilling over with tears as the full weight of your fears finally made sense to him. He reached up, his thumbs tenderly wiping the rivers of tears from your cheeks, his touch light.
"I’m never gonna put you in that box, angel," Rafe promised as he squeezed your hands tightly. "You are not an option to me, and you are definitely not a placeholder. You are the only girl I see in this entire place."
You sniffled, swallowing the lump in your throat as you looked into his eyes. "...What I have with Theo... It is nowhere near touching what you and I had.” You shake your head as the words leave your lips, feeling guilty. “He’s great, and he’s sweet, but... he’s not you. And I feel like such a bitch for putting him in the middle of all this," You let out a shaky breath, looking down. "But if it’s honestly best for my own sanity in the long run to start a new connection with another guy, rather than keep getting hurt and spiraling over whatever drama follows you then..."
You knew it wasn’t Rafe’s fault. You were trying to trust that. But you weren’t sure if Sofia ever planned on exiting the frame. And you weren’t sure you wanted to fight over his love.
"I know, angel. I know," Rafe murmured softly, leaning his forehead gently against your knee. "And I’m not gonna force you to make a decision right now.” He nods, but you can see how much it all pains him as he rests his head on your knees. “I’m just... I'm glad you listened to me." He says, placing a small kiss on your exposed knee.
And you both just sat like that for a while, silent, but it was comfortable this time. Somewhat, anyway.
By the time the date wrapped up and the sun had completely slipped beneath the horizon, and thought you weren't entirely fixed, and things were still incredibly weird, you weren't angry anymore.
And your mind was open to the truth.
But now, you had to decide what you wanted to do with it.
THE second the black SUV pulled back up to the front driveway of the main villa, you stepped out with a silent weight on your shoulders. You turned to Rafe, hugging him one last time before walking away.
You had a single mission in mind. You had to do this before going forward with anything else.
You navigated the side path of the lawn, your eyes scanning the property until you spotted JJ sitting alone by the outdoor gym, mindlessly spinning a football in his hands.
“JJ,” you called, marching straight up to him, dress flowing around you.
JJ blinked, startled by your sudden appearance, but he quickly dropped the football, sliding over on the weight bench to make room for you. "You’re back from the date. How did it—"
"I need you to be one-hundred with me," you interrupted gently, sitting down beside him, your expression serious as you locked eyes with him. "No jokes, no side-stepping, and no bro-code bullshit.” You asserted. “...I need you to tell me what happened at Casa."
“Okay…” JJ’s playful demeanor dropped. He took a look at the sad, anticipatory look in your eyes and let out a slow breath, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Are you asking about what happened with all of us…or what happened with Rafe?"
You bit your lower lip, your fingers twisting together nervously. "...I’m asking about Rafe, JJ.” He quipped. “He’s swearing up and down to me that Sofia is the one trying to ruin everything, and that he’s completely innocent. I just need to know if he’s telling the truth."
JJ turned his head to look at you. "From what I saw with my own two eyes? The entire time we were over at Casa Amor, Rafe was easily the most loyal guy in that house. Hands down."
You felt the smallest bit of relief at JJ’s words.
"The man slept outside on those damn daybeds every single night," JJ explained, his voice serious. "He barely interacted with any of the new girls outside of the challenges, and if he did? It was small talk about nothing. I once heard him talking about the fuckin' weather, about how white the clouds were and what it meant."
JJ shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. "And especially when it came to Sofia? Man, Rafe acted like that girl was invisible. She would walk into the kitchen, and he would up and leave the room. She would try to walk over to the daybeds to start a conversation with him, and Rafe would immediately turn around and start a conversation with anyone else nearby—me, John B, Pope, the other girls—anybody just to avoid giving her the time of day. He was icin’ her out."
He let out a soft sigh, looking out over the water. "I was so sure that by the time Casa Amor was over, you and Rafe would choose to still be together, without a doubt. Out of all the couples in this villa, I had the most faith in you two to stay locked down. So when we walked through those doors and I saw you standing there coupled up with Theo? I was shocked."
You sat frozen on the weight bench, the truth of his words raining down on you hard…but also matching perfectly with what Rafe and Haja had already told you.
"Oh! And after the kiss during Raunchy Races? Because I’ve heard that’s what’s causing a lot of issues," JJ continued, his voice dropping. "Rafe freaked the fuck out, Y/N. Like, total meltdown. I don’t know what he said to her but he found us—pacing, ranting to us about it. He was worried because knows exactly how this show works, and he was just really praying and hoping that he would have a chance to explain the context to you before production did something with it. And, well, basically, his worst fear came true."
JJ turned fully toward you then. "Plus, that night, it was like day three or four I think when I assume y’all got this video, and you yelled 'Fuck Rafe'? The look of pure fear and hurt that hit Rafe’s eyes in that moment was an expression I have never seen on his face before, bro. You could hear how hurt you were, even from all the way at Casa."
"You guys heard that?" you whispered, embarrassment hitting you as you covered your mouth.
"Loud and clear, babygirl," JJ nodded tightly.
You sighed, your head spinning as the final wall of your defense completely disintegrated. Crumbled. You felt distraught, confused, and overwhelmed with a crushing wave of realization—Rafe, Haja, and now JJ had all given you the exact same version of events.
Rafe was telling the truth.
Most likely, anyway.
NEEDING to clear the air with the guy you were currently coupled up with, you reluctantly made your way back into the house, finding Theo sitting alone on the sofa in the indoor lounge. He looked up as you entered, his eyes reading the emotional storm written plainly across your features.
You walked over slowly, slipping your heels off and sliding into the cushions beside him, leaving a respectful amount of space between you.
"Hey," Theo said gently, his voice smooth. "You're back from the date. How did it go?"
You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your face with both hands. "Theo... Rafe explained a lot of things out there.” You started. “And... it’s left me in a really, really weird, confusing place, mentally."
Theo watched you for a long beat, taking in your slumped shoulders and your red-rimmed eyes. “I’m assuming he got the chance to explain then,” He says quietly, a look of realization crossed his face, but he kept his composure. "Well, how are you feeling about him now?"
"I don't know," you admitted quietly, looking down at your lap. "I’m just... I’m overwhelmed." You turned your head to look at him, searching his face. "How are you feeling? About all of this?"
Theo let out a soft, bittersweet breath, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared straight ahead. "Honestly, bella... I really, really do like you. From the second I walked into this villa, I was captivated by you, and I was really hoping that I could be the guy to...change your mind, and to make you happy."
He turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "But I can clearly see that whatever you and Rafe have between you... is very, very complicated, and honestly? It feels kind of unbreakable.” He confesses, slumping like he was admitting defeat. “You two have a pull toward each other. And I think I, as well as you, have been trying to ignore it."
Your face dropped at his words. "Theo, I'm sorry," You started. "I've been trying to give you a fair chance—"
"You have." He assures, sitting up straighter, hands on your thighs. "You absolutely have. I don't want you to doubt that. You've been nothing but honest with me, I'm not faulting you for any of this. I'm just as much to blame." He reached out, his hand gently squeezing yours for a brief second before releasing it. "At the end of the day, I just want you to be the one to make the final decision. I don't want to push you, and I don't want to force you into a corner. Whether you decide you want to stick with me and keep exploring what we have... or you decide you want to try again with Rafe... I want you to know that I am really glad I met you. You are an amazing woman."
Your heart melted at his selflessness, tears building in your eyes. You looked at him, your voice a cracking whisper. "Non mi odi?" You ask for the second time.
Theo let out a low chuckle, the gloomy cloud above you two breaking into something lighter as a handsome smirk returned to his lips. He leaned in close, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he answered you. "Non potrei mai odiarti, bellissima." He admitted, the moment much less tense that it just was. “Your Italian is much better.”
You let out a soft laugh through your tears. "I’ll always have you to thank."
BY nighttime, the girls had gathered in the glam room to prepare for bed. You stood in front of the center mirror, fixing your hair, looking significantly less upset than you had in days, but increasingly more sad as the reality of your choice loomed over you.
Sarah turned around from her vanity, her eyes wide as she pinned her hair up. "Alright, we’ve been waiting all night.” She cuts in, always blunt. “How did the date go? Are we back on the Rafe-Train orrrr should we start cutting down the palm trees and carving pitchforks?"
You let out a breath, rounding the table and sitting down on your stool as Cleo and Rima turned their heads to listen. "He explained everything, I think," you admitted quietly. "And... I talked to JJ right when I got back and he basically verified every word Rafe said, saying he was the most loyal guy at Casa. So between Rafe, Haja, and JJ—the story remains the same. Which means that Rafe is probably telling the truth…"
"Awww," Sarah gushed, clapping her hands together. "This is good! Why do you look so sad?"
"Because I talked to Theo right after," you added, your voice dropping. "I told him how confused I was, and he was just... so Theo about it—calm, sweet, understanding. He told me he can see our connection is unbreakable, and he just wants me to follow my heart, even if it doesn’t lead me to him. But... Rafe also said the same thing."
"Wow," Cleo murmured, shaking her head in approval. "You’ve got two men fighting for you, girl. You're livin' my dream."
"No, Cleo," you whine. "This dream sucks." you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I’m still stuck between them. Theo is amazing and he's been so great to me and, I know I keep saying it but, I just can't stand to hurt him. And I brought him back here, it wouldn't be fair to not give him that chance,” You say, nearly rambling, letting the words fall. “...but no matter what I do, Rafe is just…there, and I can't ignore it. Me and Rafe have been building a connection for weeks at this point and I've invested so much time into him, he's invested so much time into me and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I wouldn't trade anything that me and Rafe have gone through or talked about together for anything and… I miss him."
Forgetting entirely about Sofia’s presence in the room—who was currently standing by the wardrobe racks, pretending to fold a t-shirt—the original girls continued interrogating you, determined to get to the bottom of your emotional tiff.
"Okay, look—right here, right now," Rima started, leaning forward. "No more side-stepping, and no more 'I don't know'. If it turns out that Rafe is telling the truth—which it looks like he is—who are you choosing?" She crosses her arms. "Rafe or Theo? Don’t think, just answer—"
“Rafe.”
The dressing room went dead silent. You sat frozen on your stool, your heart racing as your reflection stared back at you. Through the glass, you could see Sofia’s reflection in the background, her entire body locking up.
You took a deep, shuddering breath, the truth finally forcing its way out of your throat.
"...I would choose Rafe." you whispered softly.
Sarah let out a soft, satisfied smile, nodding her head. "Well... there it is.” She smiled. “You know where your heart is, babe. So now? It’s up to you to move accordingly."
"Exactly," Cleo agreed, standing up. "Good luck, girl.” She hugs you, yawning. “Mama’s goin’ to bed. I’m exhausted."
“I’m right with you,”
One by one, Sarah, Cleo, and Rima gathered their blankets and filed out of the glam room, bidding you a sleepy goodnight, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving you completely alone in the room with Sofia, seeing as Haja and Kaitlyn had been long gone as well.
The silence in the room turned biting. You remained seated at your vanity, continuing your nightly routine, refusing to give her the satisfaction of your attention.
Sofia stood across the room, biting the inside of her cheek, debating whether or not to speak.
And when she did, she didn't start off polite at all, letting out a sharp scoff, tossing a hanger onto the rack before turning her body to face you fully, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"...I know we don't talk much," Sofia started, her voice dropping into that fake, calculatedly polite tone that made your blood boil. "But I just want to get something out there before you start making a fool of yourself."
You slowly turned your head, fixing her with a calm, unamused stare over your shoulder.
Sofia took a slow step closer. "I think that going after Rafe is a complete waste of your time.” She shrugs. “I don't know what kind of little romantic fairytale he’s trying to sell you, or what lies he’s whispering in your ear... but that’s all it is. Lies. I should know. I dated him. In the real world."
She let out a short, patronizing laugh. "Rafe and I... we have a history. A history that goes way, way deeper than some reality TV show and three weeks of challenges and sharing a bed. We fostered a real relationship outside of this place, where things actually matter."
Sofia leaned forward slightly, her fake-nice smile widening into a venomous smirk. "The only reason you and Rafe even have a ‘relationship’ right now... is because of this show. But outside of this? Trust me, you wouldn't last a single second with the real Rafe. You don't know him like I do. I understand what it’s like to love Rafe because I’ve been there first. I was before you."
The insult was purposeful, designed to slide directly under your skin and trigger every single ounce of the trauma you had been fighting. She wanted you to get loud, she wanted you to scream, she wanted you emotionally wrecked, as far away from Rafe as possible, and she wanted you to look like the crazy, insecure girl in front of the cameras.
But you didn't give her that. You wouldn’t.
You sat perfectly still, your expression completely unmoved by her sharp words. You let a slow, unamused smile pull at the corners of your lips as you stood up from your vanity chair, glaring over at her.
"Are you done?" you asked smoothly, your voice perfectly calm.
Sofia blinked, her smug smile falling. "...Wh—"
"I hear what you're saying about being 'first'," you interrupted, your voice dropping into a snarky undertone as you stepped closer. "But from where I’m standing? Being first clearly doesn't mean anything. If it did, you wouldn’t be here."
Sofia’s jaw tensed, her face turning an angry shade of crimson.
"You can call me temporary all you want, you can keep glaring me every chance you get, you can keep trying to embarrass me," you whispered with a smirk. "But at least I’m not desperate, going through all of this trouble for a man who won’t even look at me twice.” You quipped, hissing. “You’re the only one fighting his feelings for me, thinking it’ll change his feelings for you, I’m assuming.” You bite out. “It won’t.”
Without giving her a chance to attempt another shady comeback, you spun on your heel and walked straight out of the glam room, letting the door click shut behind you, leaving Sofia standing alone in her own humiliated silence.
WHEN you pushed the bedroom door open, the room was bathed in that soft glow, the other islanders already huddled beneath their duvets.
You slid under the sheets of your shared mattress, moving close to Theo.
He didn't greet you with his usual touch, the conversation from the earlier still hanging heavily between you, but the second he felt your body heat, he didn't pull away.
Wordlessly, Theo rolled onto his side, his strong arms pulling you firmly against his bare chest, enveloping you in a tight embrace. He snuggled you close, his grip almost desperate as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
The warmth of his body radiated against yours, and your chest filled with a bittersweet ache because you knew where your heart was leading you—but you still couldn't deny the good in the man holding you right now.
Theo tightened his grip around your waist, holding you so tightly, his deep voice a low whisper against your skin.
"Just in case this is the last time I share a bed with you."
next chapter>
i give this chapter like a 6/10, it's something i don't like about it but then there's parts i absolutely loveeee
cw: heavy angst, mentions of dead bodies, guilt, breakup
“where were you?” you crossed your arms as you saw your boyfriend getting out of the truck. rafe froze immediately. you knew something was wrong. not because of his words, because he was staring at you with the biggest eyes in human history.
one hand was still gripping the edge of his truck door when he looked up and found you standing in the driveway. his stomach dropped. you weren’t supposed to be here.
you had been waiting almost two hours. you tried calling him. once. twice. seven times. but everytime it went straight to voicemail. rose had answered the door when you stopped by earlier. “he’s handling some business.” at nearly midnight? it didn’t sit right with you.
now the clock on the dashboard read far past midnight. he tried not to think the entire ride home. tried not to see gavin’s face every time he blinked. tried not to hear the splash of the water. tried not to remember what he had done. but now you were here. looking at him with those eyes. judging him. his hair was messy and his eyes looked exhausted.
“what are you doing here?” his voice sounded rough. you stepped closer. “i’ve been waiting.” the guilt hit him immediately. you knew him well enough that you could tell. “baby—”
“i went looking for you.” his jaw tightened. “what?” he tried to get a hold of your words. everything was a blur. “i stopped by tanneyhill earlier.” you shoved your hands into the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “rose said you were doing business.”
business. the word made him sick. because if only you knew what kind of business he was up to. “and?” he asked. “and i thought it was weird.” rafe swallowed. “it wasn’t.” you sighed. “ray..”
“it wasn’t.” you stared at him. he looked worn out. and not the normal way. not the kind that came from working late or too much drinking. it was something else. his eyes were bloodshot. his clothes looked thrown together.
suddenly you felt nervous. “you didn’t answer any of my calls.” his gaze dropped. he looked like your questions were exhausting him. which hurt you more than you’d like to admit.
you took another step. “what’s going on?” but he just shook his head. nothing. everything. too much. rafe could feel his pulse hammering against his ribs.
if you kept asking questions, if you kept looking at him like that, you were going to find out. and the second you found out, you’d leave. because you wouldn’t look at him the same. you couldn’t.
“it’s none of your business.” he mumbled. “excuse me?” your eyebrows furrowed immediately. “you heard me.” the words sounded wrong even as they left his mouth. you blinked. he never was this dismissive with you.
hurt flashed across your face. “rafe, i’m your girlfriend.” girlfriend. the word made his chest ache. because that’s exactly why he couldn’t tell you. because girlfriends were supposed to feel safe.
girlfriends were supposed to have boyfriends that didn’t spend their nights disposing of bodies. that didn’t lie. that didn’t steal. that didn’t destroy everything they touched. you deserved someone normal. someone good. someone who wouldn’t drag you into the darkness with him.
“go home.” he hissed. “not until you tell me what’s wrong.” his breathing became uneven. you noticed immediately. “baby?” rafe sighed heavily, “i said go home.” you crossed your arms, “no.”
his eyes squeezed shut. god. why couldn’t you just leave? why did you care so much? why did you keep loving him when he gave you every reason not to?
“look at me,” you whispered. he couldn’t. because if he looked at you right now, he was going to break. “rafe.” your hand reached for his but he pulled away. the motion hurt both of you.
“what’s happening?” your voice cracked. “please just talk to me.” rafe laughed. except it wasn’t really a laugh. it sounded broken. “you don’t know what you’re asking.”
“then tell me.” you begged. “no.” he shook his head. “why?” because if i tell you, you’ll hate me. because you’ll finally see me. because you’ll realize i’m not the person you think i am. he thought.
his eyes burned. “because you don’t know me.” you stared at him. confused. “what?” the knot in your stomach tightened. “you don’t know me.” his voice was shaking now. “you think you do.”
“rafe—” you started but he cut you off. “you think i’m somebody worth loving.” your heart dropped. “don’t.” his eyes closed briefly, “but i’m not.” now you were worried, really worried.
“stop.” he finally looked at you. and the expression on his face shattered you. because he’d never looked so sad. never looked so lost. “you have no idea who i really am.”
“yes, i do.” you argued. “no.” his voice cracked. “no, you don’t.” you felt tears building immediately. “then tell me.” and as he heard the desperation in your voice, he almost did. for one horrible second, he almost told you everything.
about peterkin. about gavin. about every awful thing he’d done. he almost collapsed right there and begged you to understand. but then he looked at you. and all he could think was that your hands were too clean to be stained by someone like him.
you were too good. too kind. too loving. too everything. and he would ruin you. just like he ruined everything else. so he did the only thing he thought would protect you. he pushed you away.
“i don’t love you.” you blurted out and what followed was silence. and that’s when you knew that there was something really wrong. your face went white. and rafe felt something inside himself die. “what?”
he couldn’t breathe. couldn’t think. could barely stand. but he forced himself to keep going. “i don’t love you.” liar. you are such a liar. he thought to himself
“rafe—” you didn’t understand. none of this made any sense. “i don’t.” his voice broke. you heard it. he knew you heard it. but now he had to push through to the end. “i think you should leave.”
tears spilled down your cheeks. “why are you doing this?” because i love you. because i love you so much that i’d rather destroy myself than let you stay. because one day you’ll find out what i’ve done. and when that happens, it’ll hurt less if you already hate me. he thought.
his throat tightened. “because i’m tired.” his eyes squeezed shut. you could practically see the war happening inside him. “of me?” the question nearly brought him to his knees. “yeah.”
another lie. another knife. another wound. you stared at him for a long moment. searching his face. looking for something. anything. the truth. and rafe prayed you wouldn’t find it.
because if you did, he’d fold immediately. he’d pull you into his arms. he’d tell you everything. he’d beg you not to leave. and that would be selfish. so unbelievably selfish.
you stepped closer. close enough to grab his hand. but the second your fingers brushed his, he pulled away. like your touch burned him. your entire body went cold. it felt like you were watching him disappear right in front of you. and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop it.
“okay.” you whispered. he refused to say something. something was standing between you. and suddenly you realized that no amount of crying was going to fix this. he had already decided.
“okay.” you wiped at your face. failing miserably. “if that’s what you want.” no. it’s not what he wanted. it was the exact opposite. but it wasn’t right. “goodbye, rafe.”
don’t go. please don’t go. please. he thought, but he said nothing. because loving you meant letting you walk away. even when every part of him was screaming.
he let you walk away. every step down the driveway felt impossible. your vision blurred. your chest started aching. your heart breaking into a million pieces. because none of it made sense. none of it.
and as you climbed into your car, his legs gave out. he collapsed against the side of the truck, one hand covering his mouth as a broken sound escaped him. the driveway was empty. and you were gone.
and for the first time all night, the weight of everything he’d done crashed down on him completely. he thought getting rid of the body would make him feel better. safer. but all he’d really done was lose the one good thing he had left.
“fuck…” he whispered hoarsely. his eyes squeezed shut. because the worst part wasn’t what he’d done to gavin. or peterkin. or himself. the worst part was knowing what he did to you.
and despite what he’d said. despite every lie he’d forced from his mouth. he loved you. he loved you so much it hurt. and that was exactly why he let you go.
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ When you enter the Love Island villa as a bombshell, you spark an instant, high-stakes connection with the intense and complicated Rafe Cameron. As you navigate each others web of secrets, messy betrayals, and jealous rivals, you must decide if your undeniable chemistry is a genuine match or just a casualty of the game...
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, smut, mentions of past relationships, suggestive content, mentions of addiction, circumstantial cheating/infidelity, general LI drama, arguments, mentions of mental health, drinking, more detailed warnings for each individual chapter
SERIES TAG NAV‧₊˚ #fic analysis☀️ | #sotb | #mailbox:sotb
some quick (kinda important) notes
EPISODES
The Deep End (Day 1+2) | tweets
2. Muggy Mornings and Moonlit Pasts (Day 3+4) | tweets
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ When you enter the Love Island villa as a bombshell, you spark an instant, high-stakes connection with the intense and complicated Rafe Cameron. As you navigate each others web of secrets, messy betrayals, and jealous rivals, you must decide if your undeniable chemistry is a genuine match or just a casualty of the game...
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, smut, mentions of past relationships, suggestive content, mentions of addiction, circumstantial cheating/infidelity, general LI drama, arguments, mentions of mental health, drinking, more detailed warnings for each individual chapter
SERIES TAG NAV‧₊˚ #fic analysis☀️ | #sotb | #mailbox:sotb
some quick (kinda important) notes
EPISODES
The Deep End (Day 1+2) | tweets
2. Muggy Mornings and Moonlit Pasts (Day 3+4) | tweets
Batkids finding out that batmom was a model, a famous one
FASHION FASHION ( bruce wayne!)
summary | Your kids are bored and discover your secret past, and a somewhat strange secret from their father.
pairing | Bruce wayne x fem! model reader
note: the characters don't really stick to the personality they have, but I liked how it turned out so, sorry I'm not sorry
open request - dc masterlist
It all started as a harmless search.
The kids were bored. A night with no missions, no emergencies, no chaos. Just the rain pounding against the windows of Wayne Manor and an awkward silence that none of them wanted to fill with real questions. So when Dick suggested going up to the attic, they all agreed with childish enthusiasm.
"Alfred said not to go up," Tim muttered, holding the flashlight.
“Alfred says that about everything funny,” Jason replied, already perched on some crates.
"What are you looking for, exactly?" Damian asked, arms crossed. "Dirt?"
"Something interesting," Dick replied, with a mischievous smile as he opened a dusty old trunk. "And probably some of Bruce's dark secrets."
The others gravitated toward it like magnets. The boxes had no labels, but were sealed with a leather strap cracked by age. Tim carefully opened one, as if it were a fragile relic, and inside they found… papers, envelopes, folders, and something even more striking: old magazines.
"What the...?" Steph muttered, taking one of them.
It was a Vogue Paris cover. The issue featured a striking young woman with familiar eyes, shining with a power that pierced the page. She wore a dark dress, her hair pulled back, and her expression was one of absolute elegance.
Damian silently flipped through an album until he stopped on a particular page. His eyebrows furrowed. "What is this?" causing everyone to stop what they were doing.
It was from a different box. More personal, there were letters, printed articles, old photos. The most striking one was one of Bruce and Batman's wedding, both young, you younger than him, but he looked at you almost dazzled. And beneath the photo was a note in Alfred's handwriting: "You always had a soft spot for her, even before you met her. It was only a matter of time."
Everyone fell silent. Even Jason, who muttered, "What the hell?"
Tim cleared his throat, smoothing out the crumpled paper before beginning to read. The page had yellowed edges, as if it had been stored away for years. The title at the top was from an old celebrity magazine, one of those tabloids Bruce would now despise but had clearly, once upon a time, collected.
—“The tastes of Gotham’s heir: who is the model stealing young Wayne’s attention?” Tim read aloud.
The boys looked at each other, confused.
"Model?" Damian asked. "Who are they talking about?"
Tim looked down. His eyes widened at a photo. It was Batmom, young, walking down a runway in a scarlet evening gown, elegant, unstoppable. Beside her, another photo of Bruce, even younger, smiling as he got out of a car, with that rich boy smile that bore no resemblance to the man they knew now.
—“Sources claim that the Wayne heir has a fixation with the model of the moment. He's been seen on more than one occasion with magazines where she appears on the cover, and some insiders claim he has a photo of her in his office. Obsession or admiration? Time will tell if Gotham's most eligible bachelor will dare to approach the icon who has him fascinated.”
Jason let out an incredulous laugh. “Mom was Bruce’s celebrity crush!?”
"For God's sake, Mom was a model" Dick said, still surprised.
And there it was: a photo of Batmom walking the red carpet at Cannes. And another of Bruce, maybe twentyfour years old, leaving the company with a fashion magazine folded under his arm, and the magazine showed a close up of the cover showing your face.
“Oh. My. God,” Steph said.
—This is like... when someone marries their celebrity crush... Only he did it —said Tim
“Bruce was in love with Mom… before he met her,” Dick said, as if that reshaped his entire family history.
"That's cute…" Steph murmured as she looked through all the magazines.
"He seems more like a freak to me" Jason added, though he seemed secretly impressed.
Just then, the sound of soft, steady footsteps interrupted the silence. Alfred appeared in the attic entrance, his calm, unmistakable demeanor.
And as if fate had known it, Alfred's firm footsteps were heard ascending the attic stairs. "I knew curiosity would win" he said, without raising his voice too much. "Although I expected it to be a few years ago, all detectives were quite slow to see..."
"So you knew? That Mom was Bruce's teenage fantasy?"
Alfred raised an eyebrow, picking up a magazine from the floor with two fingers as if it were a crystal goblet. "I prefer the term 'admiration.' Although... yes, I knew it. I knew it from the first day he walked in with a copy of Harper's Bazaar under his arm, feigning interest in an article about Swiss watches."
"That's beyond pathetic," Damian said, a little disappointed in his father.
Then Bruce's firm, heavy footsteps were heard on the wood of the staircase.
Everyone froze.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low but firm, seeing the chaos of magazines, clippings, and letters.
"So you had an obsession with Mom?" Tim shot back, not missing a beat.
"A whole collection of magazines?" Steph continued, holding one up. "Bruce, this is teen crush level."
"How did we not know this before?" Dick looked somewhere between fascinated and disappointed in himself.
Damian, still in his sour tone, crossed his arms. "I thought you were pathetic in other ways. This is new."
Bruce sighed, closing his eyes for a second. "Why were you rummaging through private things?"
"We were bored. It's Dick's fault," Jason said quickly.
"Alfred knew it," Steph accused, pointing to the butler, who had just calmly brought up a tray of teacups as if it were all part of the service.
Alfred didn't even flinch. "Of course I knew. Master Bruce had a poster of her hidden away. I discovered it once when I went to get the laundry."
"Alfred!" Bruce growled in disbelief.
"im sorry master Bruce"
"A poster?" Jason asked, raising his eyebrows with a mischievous grin. "I don't want to know what you were doing with that."
"Jason!" several people shouted at the same time, between laughs and groans.
"It was a different time" Bruce tried to defend himself, though he knew it was useless. "i didn't do anything. I had it because i admired her work. End of story."
"Sure, sure," Tim murmured. "The art. The talent. The... four foot ten legs."
"TIM!" they all shouted at once.
"So Mom was your celebrity crush?" Tim said, amused. "And you married her? That's legendary."
"It wasn't exactly like that," Bruce began, but broke off when your silhouette appeared in the doorway.
"What are you doing with my magazines?" you asked, a mixture of amusement and resignation.
The kids turned around as if they had been caught stealing.
“Investigating your hidden past” Jason said, waving a magazine like it was classified evidence.
"Confirming theories," Tim added, still holding a photo. "Like, Dad was completely in love with you before he even met you."
"And that he had a hidden poster," Damian added, his voice dry. "Disgusting."
"I didn't want to know that, by the way," Steph continued, raising a hand. "But now it's etched in my mind forever."
Bruce put a hand to his forehead, muttering something unintelligible.
"And you found this, Alfred?" you asked with a smile, looking at the butler, who was still holding an untouched cup of tea.
"I was just providing some historical context," Alfred replied, unperturbed. "And perhaps I remembered certain... details."
Bruce looked at you with a silent intensity. The same as always. As if he still couldn't believe that that woman from the magazines was standing in front of him, every day, in a bathrobe, drinking coffee and scolding her children for not setting the table.
"Come on. I'll show you something better than magazine clippings."
You led them downstairs to the main room. You opened a small, decorative-looking wooden box. From it, you took out an old flash drive. "I thought this would get lost over time," you said, plugging it into the TV.
You led them into the living room. You connected an old external hard drive to the TV screen. You didn't explain anything. You just pressed "play."
And there you were.
A young you. Walking down a runway in Milan. The camera followed you as if you were the only person in the world. Fashion shows, interviews, covers. The music, the flashes, the unstoppable aura. A version of you your kids had never seen.
Not as a mother, not as Bruce Wayne's wife. But as yourself. Strong, brilliant, and unforgettable.
you were always from two different worlds: you, a high-status noble who never had to lift a finger to get what you want, and he, a commoner who swung a flimsy stick and covered himself in bruises to achieve his aspirations. even when he rose through the ranks, never did you think you would find yourself on equal grounds. yet he shouldered through it all — through any and all obstacles which stood before him, including the walls you had never once let down; the ones which crumbled before him without you even realising.
CONTAINS : 3.4k wc, fem!reader, fluff, (attempts at) humour, angst if you squint, royalty au, villainess!reader, general!varka, somehow hurt/comfort crept into this..., mentions of alcohol, alluded family issues (kinda), reader has more depth than i initially planned
A/N : so this originally was an ask. and originally i was going to answer it in like. 3 paragraphs. that of course never happens so here i am with a new varka fic which isn't the vampire hunter varka fic... sigh. but this is basically manhwa au varka.... which is basically royalty au varka........ gobbles it (him) up. anyway new header and divider !! courtesy of his drip market hehehahahoho throws up what a handsome man orufdsl
dedicated to: the nonnie who sent in the ask abt villainess!reader and general!varka like. over a month ago. pls believe me when i say i stared at it constantly wondering how i am supposed to live with this revelation.
AO3 LINK HERE !!
The General — or Grand Master, as he had been officially titled years ago when he became the youngest in history to reach such a level, is a righteous and chivalrous knight of the highest order who commands the royal army. He is known as the strongest in the land, the nation's hero who paved the way through countless battles as a beacon of light even amid the bleakest of situations, and serves directly under Mondstadt's reigning king, Barbatos.
(No one can seem to catch a glimpse of the fabled king on the throne aside from a select few, with many believing there to be no king at all. Yet he still holds some semblance of power despite being the one to bring in the rule for democracy.)
He is a man with many achievements. Military medals, more than favourable public opinion of both the nobles and the commoners, numerous peace treaties with the most ludicrous of parties, and an avid drinker who reigns undefeated. Well, aside from the nation of war’s leader managing to drink him under. People don’t really talk about that though, as he still managed to secure a prosperous trade deal with their grains and Mondstadt’s ports.
Truly, his reputation precedes him.
Well, not that you care. These are all things your stoic father constantly goes on and on and on about during family dinners when returning from a meeting with said general. And it's not just your father, but your strict mother, your teeth-grinding annoying older brother, your retired general of a grandfather, your uptight grandmother, your money-hungry aunt and uncle, your bratty blabbermouth of a third cousin, your, quote-unquote, "clique" who foolishly agrees with everything you say, your—
Seriously, what a load of nonsense. He's not even all that, and yet he gets all the approval from everyone around you! You, a duke’s daughter! And he's just some... some muscle-loaded, freakishly strong, happy-go-lucky brute with an annoying laugh! Even in a ballroom packed with gossip-mongering nobles, his unmistakable, “hahaha” still manages to ring clear through the air!
Speaking of that insufferable laugh, you can hear it right now. It booms from somewhere behind you on your left, the area where most of this evening’s party-goers have congregated. Well, you can’t say you’re surprised. Whenever he attends these gatherings everyone seems to flock towards him like some kind of hivemind.
It’s laughable, really, considering how they were the ones who mocked him in the past; how a lowly commoner like he could never become something great, let alone even enter the knight’s academy. Yet now that he has become a living legend, built a name for himself after all these years, all of their past transgressions behind his back seem to have been conveniently forgotten. Like birds of a feather, you suppose. No matter where you go, no matter who the next target is, they’re always the same.
(You would know best, after all.)
You don’t realise you’re staring. At least, not until his eyes catch yours. Champagne bubbles stuck in your throat, you are not even given the luxury of pretending such an interaction never happened when his easy-going smile suddenly turns into that of a beam replicating the watt of a thousand suns, eyes glimmering like the sharp edge of a finely carved diamond caught under the light, as he begins to spew apologies to the crowd around him before steadily making his way over to where you stand.
God, you hope some knight or military official or someone swoops in and takes him away for some urgent business. What a delight that would be, sparing you the—
The ladies around you gasp, blushing gazes drawn to something behind you like moths to a flame. You don’t even need to turn to guess who could be making his way towards you.
Glass creaks under your fingers.
Damn it all.
You really don’t understand this guy’s deal. Have all your previous schemes really had no effect in deterring him away?
Initially, you ignored him and gave the cold shoulder whenever he would approach to try and strike up a conversation of sorts. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure what you thought would happen when he was the man who went from zero to hero in record time and overturned the favour of this snobbish high society. Maybe you thought he would take the hint and leave you alone, but no. He stayed. And even when he did start to maintain a distance after your first and only confrontation, you could feel his gaze linger in the moments when everyone looked away.
It was unnerving, the way it seemed he could see right through you at times when you have spent your entire existence as anything but acknowledged. That’s what you hated about him the most, how he kept his distance not out of respect (though you’re sure he has some strict knightly code he abides by, he certainly seems like the type), but because he seemed know something beyond you. He always had that annoying expression akin to understanding or, worse yet, pity. And who was he to pity you? He may be a hero of the nation, but what right does that give him to play the role in the lives of others? In your life?
So, you resorted to tactics in hopes of driving him away for good. Petty? Sure. But that’s what you are known for, so why not make use of the rumours and reputation already at your disposal to get rid of him before he manages to reach a part of you you’re sure won’t be the same ever again.
Once, you spilled the darkest red wine available on his clean, white ceremonial garb. It was his celebratory banquet for becoming the youngest to inherit the title of Grand Master. Your dress was coincidentally just a little too long, your grip on the glass coincidentally a little too loose, and he just so happened to be there when you coincidentally stumbled and spilled your drink over him, staining his pristine attire crimson. Coincidentally, of course.
Your family gave scathing glares, but what’s new? Well, that foolish general’s laid-back reaction was certainly new. He took one look at his soiled clothes, flicked his eyes over your own attire, before grinning at you, the words, “No need to sweat over it! It was an accident, after all. But now we match!” Much to your immense horror, the crimson bleeding into his ceremonial garb was an almost one-to-one match with that of your dress!
There was also that time when you were — begrudgingly, you must stress — sharing drinks and sneaked in some very potent alcohol, adding it to his cup without anyone realising, confident it would render him sick and unable to perform his duties for a while. You know, just to tell him, “Stay away if you know what’s good for you.”
So imagine your complete and utter bafflement when he drinks the entire thing, licks his lips, sighs in complete and utter contentment, and has the audacity to ask, “Hey, that was pretty good! Mind if I take some with me back to the barracks? I’m sure the others would love it, too! Hahaha!”
Mouth agape, you seriously contemplated the idea he was not human.
(No, genuinely. How can he still be fine after downing such a high alcohol concentration in one go?? Is his liver alien??? How did he not get alcohol poisoning???? What in the world is this man?????)
…and many more failed attempts at getting him to despise your entire being. You've done just about everything you can to throw this stubborn man off your back, yet, much to your complete and absolute horror, he has not relented a single inch. After that last attempt, which has you sick at even the mere thought of consuming a single drop of that near-pure concentrate alcohol concoction, you promptly gave up on tricks and went back to giving him the cold shoulder. A full-circle moment, if you will.
Ugh! Curse this brute and that stubborn smile and stupid laugh of his! Just who does he think he is?!
And, as if to make matters even worse, your father appears by your side, your mother and brother following soon after. Great. Just great.
Tuning out their conversation, you sip on your champagne flute and mindlessly listen to the surrounding chatter. The ladies in your group have gone back to discussing the most recent play by that popular acting troupe from Fontaine, debating whether or not it was better than the last performance. That Furina seems to be making a name for herself lately. Apparently the affairs of the Fontainian nation weren’t doing so great, but things seem to have settled if they are able to travel so often like this, along with that magic group with the three siblings.
Some of the older nobles are discussing the current affairs of Mondstadt, particularly the military and political scenes. There’s some rumours about the Snezhnayan diplomats making their move. Some seem relatively tame, while others have you wondering just what in the world their leader is thinking, letting people like that run free as influential figures. At least they are yet to come here, but who knows how long that will last. You just hope one of the seemingly tamer ones come to Mondstadt for negotiations, like that… that Captain guy? Seriously, why do they all have such strange aliases? You wouldn’t ever agree to being referred to as a child.
Well, whatever. It’s none of your business anyway. The worse that can happen is—
“Your Grace, I would be honoured if you would bestow me your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
This. This is apparently the worse that can happen.
Glass shatters somewhere in the distance. Actually, something tells you it also shattered near you as well, but you have bigger things to worry about than some replaceable material scattered across the floor. This conversation between the general and your father you unfortunately overheard being one of them, with the other constituting of not dying from choking on champagne. (What a mortifying way to go that would be.)
From the corner of your eye, your father tenses. It’s rare to see him in such a state. For all his feats in building the family’s name and further prospering the ducal house and its territory, his stoicism is one of his main traits; a most annoying one, but it’s familiar. Nothing like a certain man’s jolly demeanour; the complete opposite, if you will.
“Grand Master Varka, I am afraid I will have to reject your proposal,” he responds after a few long seconds worthy of baited breaths.
Figures, a commoner like him wouldn't ever be able to gain approval for your hand, no matter how incredible his feats are. Perhaps your father maintains that wretchedly stubborn noble pride of his even in the face of the figurehead he constantly praises in your home. Or perhaps he has some heart in him for you after all. Maybe the thought of his one and only daughter being snatched away by some hulking guy who swings a sword has knocked some sense into him, and—
“I fear my daughter is less than suitable and far too lacking for someone of your calibre.”
...what? You? Lacking? Should it not be the other way around?? And what kind of father says that about his own daughter??? You're his flesh and blood!
It seems your so-called father makes it a point to avoid your glare, if the way he claps a palm over the general's shoulder and treats him so familiarly is anything to go by. Ha! He should just go and take him in as a son then! They can gallop to the registry and have him officially become a part of the family. You're sure everyone would be jumping over the moon with that notion, finally having the golden child they always dreamed of having.
(What were you expecting? You should have never dreamed, should have never hoped for the impossible. You fool. You absolute fool.)
You expect the general to laugh that annoying laugh of his. Does he find this situation funny? Is your complete and utter humiliation that enjoyable to his sick senses? He probably does. Well, if not him, then those around you certainly find amusement in the current scene. You can already see all those two-faced nobles smirking down at you behind their masks. Maybe next time you should go to the black market to put some actual poison in—
“That's not true.”
...come again?
“Lady [Name] is anything but lacking,” Varka continues, as if what he is saying isn’t absolutely ludicrous in and of itself. “She is graceful, poised, and confident in her every manner. There is no one more suitable, and if she is considered as “lacking” as you say, then I’m afraid I will go the rest of my life without marriage.”
You blink. Uhh... is he really talking about you? Has he lost his mind? No, never mind that. What really has you gawking is how flippantly he brushed off your father’s hand from his shoulder; as though the weight that palm carries is nothing but mere dust soiling his clothes.
(…did your father always look so small? What happened to the man whose mere silhouette had your hands clamming up? Was his entire image simply something you made up? What were you always so afraid of? How much of your life have you wasted?)
A dull, prickling pain digs into the base of your palm.
“Even when alone, she tries her best to prove herself. To me, Lady [Name] is someone to be admired, but even more than that,” he trails off, tearing his blazing gaze away from that of your stunned father and instead focusing his sole attention onto you. Within that instant, his features relax, as though his parched throat has finally been relieved with a drop of water.
You want him to stop. To let this whole thing go and to forget this incident ever occurred. Why did he have to bring up such a topic to begin with? Why won’t he stop and just move on?
And then, within a blink, it happens.
One second he is standing, stature tall and posture the epitome of confidence. The next, he swoops down to bend at the knee — left knee flat against marble, one hand splayed across his heart, the other holding yours as he looks up at you in a way which screams warmth personified. When he slowly guides the back of your hand closer to him, clear blue seeking permission to continue, you find yourself unable to tear neither your gaze nor your hand away from him.
Feather-light is the kiss placed atop your gloved hand. Searing is the remnant which lingers when he pulls away.
“You are someone to be cherished; reverently, wholeheartedly, most ardently.” Even with the glove as a barrier, his breath is warm; his eyes even more so when he continues. “I may be lacking in many ways, my lady, but I hope you may give me a chance to love you in the way you deserve.”
He's not putting on a facade, that much you can tell. Then again, when has he ever put one on? You can't recall, and you really don't believe there to be a time where he ever did don a mask of his own. He has just remained as himself; unapologetically so.
...seriously, what's wrong with this guy? How can he be so... so...
Dammit.
And so when you snatch his stupidly large hand in yours and dash out of the ballroom with only the stunned silence of the nobles, the hurried clacks of your heels against polished marble, and Varka's infuriatingly concerned tone when asking if you're alright as if running at this speed doesn't wind him in the slightest, you choose to ignore the searing heat spreading rapidly across your skin, nor do you acknowledge the tears which threaten to spill over after years of repression or the rapid palpitations of your heart you already know aren't from running.
You’re not sure how long you keep running for, but you eventually come to a slow, your huffing figure caring little about what unsightly state you might be in right now. Rows of Cecilia extend as far as the eye can see, glimmering lamp grass lighting up the cobble-squared path further into the palace garden. There is a water fountain beside you, the faint pitter-pattering filling in the silence.
Varka doesn’t say anything. You don’t even look at him, gaze stubbornly fixed to the dampened grass. But he shifts, his shadow moving to enshroud you in your entirety, as if he were blocking anything else from disturbing this space. Feet shuffling, he eventually guides you to sit on the stone ledge of the fountain, his hand still held firmly in yours. You can’t bring yourself to pull away, and yet your eyes refuse to meet his in fear of what would eventually escape through the widening cracks of your composure.
“Why…” Gritting your teeth, you blatantly ignore the warmth of his hand beginning to seep through your gloves. “Why did you say all of that in front of everyone? Why didn’t you…”
“Why didn’t you laugh and mock me like everyone else in that room?” Is what you would have asked had you not bitten back the remaining words, had they not been stuck in the back of your throat like a wedge shoved under a door.
No words are said. Instead, he kneels down once more in the damp grass, and you’re reminded of moments prior in the ballroom. Except, instead of cool, polished marble, a patchy green already begins to bleed into the pristine white of his trousers, the plane of his knee a mini field, matching the blue skies of his eyes and the golden sun of his hair.
…this is stupid. He is stupid. You’re stupid. Everything is stupid.
Him and his stupid messy hair, fanged grin, scar-littered skin, infuriatingly gentle gaze, boisterous laugh, steadfast resolve, callused hands, annoyingly warm voice—
He looks at you then; really looks at you. In a single instant, you have never felt more exposed than you do now under this man’s gaze, as if he himself understands what everyone else never bothered to try like it’s nothing.
A thumb brushes over your knuckles like it’s easy; like it’s second nature. Warm, comforting, gentle — everything you’ve come to associate with the man, and everything you have come to despise him for.
“Because I see you.”
You scoff, disbelieving, heart caught in your throat. “What kind of answer is that?”
It takes a moment for Varka to respond, eyes boring into your own with something secure and assured and utterly incomprehensible to you.
“An answer I believe in, because when you thought no one saw the cracks slowly forming to reveal everything you worked hard to hide, I saw them. Where everyone else saw the contempt and vitriol, I saw someone trying to survive in a room where no one took them seriously — where you were always under constant scrutiny for every minor thing and did all you could just to remain afloat.”
Your lip trembles; his grip tightens.
“I see you,” he reiterates once more, body leaning up until his forehead rests against yours, both of your hands held firmly within his. Strands of gold enter your vision, tickle the skin of your cheek, yet your eyes remain fixed onto his, wondering how someone could look so sure and unwavering in their beliefs. He whispers your name in utter reverence, like silk doused in the sweetest of honey. “If you’ll have me, I will happily spend the rest of my life giving you everything you should’ve had since the moment you blessed this world with your birth.”
Ha. What a fool. What a complete, utter fool.
(Whether that is meant for him or for you... Well, you're not even sure anymore. Perhaps he is a fool. Perhaps you're both fools. But maybe, you're the biggest fool of all for thinking someone as earnest as he could truly be hated; that his sincerity hadn’t reached you through the hairline cracks of your noble composure back during the first time you saw him as a knight-in-training when visiting the palace, swinging that flimsy wooden sword one thousand times.)
(Yeah. You really are a fool. In more ways than one.)
if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33
— meet kenji bakugou yln!! the baby of yn yln and bakugou katsuki. no, they’re not married… or in a relationship… yeah, you know they’ve never dated! it was just a one night stand and she still had the baby. i heard he’s a good father too… wait look, are you sure like they’re not dating?
his hand behind his head like he’d spent minutes debating whether or not to even take the picture.
you smiled a little before the feeling in your stomach suddenly dropped.
because you knew that jacket.
your thumb froze against the screen.
no.
no, you didn’t.
it was just a black jacket.
thousands of people owned black jackets.
you swallowed hard and looked again anyway.
the longer you stared, the worse it got.
the shape of his eyes above the flash.
the bridge of his nose barely visible through the light.
the way his hair fell back.
your chest tightened so fast it almost hurt.
it looked exactly like him.
not “kind of.”
not “a little bit.”
exactly.
you locked your phone immediately.
this was insane.
actually insane.
lee heeseung was not secretly messaging you pretending to be some random guy named jae. that was something out of a fanfic, not real life.
and yet your hands were shaking.
because you knew those eyes.
god you knew those eyes.
you’d spent years reposting photos of them onto your fan account at three in the morning. spent hours defending that man in twitter arguments. spent embarrassing amounts of time zooming into fancams and airport lives.
you knew his face better than your own at this point.
and that jacket—
your stomach twisted harder.
he’d worn it before.
you remembered the exact photos.
dark denim. white shirt underneath. black jacket.
you remembered because you’d reposted the exact pictures onto your account with a stupid caption over explaining how good he looked in dark clothes.
you opened the photo again with shaky fingers, zooming in until the image started losing quality.
maybe you were projecting.
maybe you were just seeing what you wanted to see.
maybe being an engene for this long had genuinely damaged your brain.
but the more you stared, the more impossible it became to deny.
that was heeseung’s nose.
his eyes.
his hair.
his fucking jacket.
your heartbeat started pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.
BEING A FULL TIME HATER . . . is hard ! but y/n can’t help it, she hates jungwon, hates him and his stupid talent for dancing, his stupid perfect face, his stupid incredible body, the stupid way he makes her inner thighs want him, yeah hates him, so why the universe seems to drag her to him in every ways.
an mini smau starring yang jungwon and fem!reader ; social media au with some written parts ; +18 ; taglist is close
« I know I’m not supposed to but I think I like you »
SYNOPSIS. ⋮ in which you have the best sex of your life OR- in which you get fucked over by the fuckboy
⋮. 심재윤. ⋮ 2.1k ⋮. ⋆ fuckboy jake ⋆ strong language, alcohol consumption, sexual references, suggestive content, mentions of prior sexual encounter, brief sexual gesture, jake sim being a menace to society
part 1 ┃ part 2 — please read part 1 before reading part 2!
🥥 laceys note ; since everyone wanted a part 2 here it is! I hope yall enjoy, this chapter is annoying asf and jake is just annoying asf too. enjoy!! (Part 3 anyone?) comments, reblogs, feedback and likes keep me writing!
Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
Three hundred and thirty six hours — not that you were counting, because you absolutely were not counting — and yet somehow, somehow, Jake Sim still lived rent free in your head like he owned the place and hadn’t even bothered to furnish it.
It was annoying. He was annoying. The whole thing was annoying.
You’d had hookups before. You knew the deal. You weren’t naive enough to think a guy you met at a frat party at eleven pm was going to be sending you good morning texts. That wasn’t the issue.
The issue was the way he’d said it.
This isn’t a slumber party, sweetheart.
And then the dimples. God, the dimples — like he was proud of himself. Like you were supposed to be grateful.
You’d replayed it probably forty seven times more than any self respecting person should, lying in your bed staring at the ceiling while Sunoo snored peacefully across the dorm. Each time you got to the part where he said already did your jaw tightened on reflex.
Asshole.
You’d decided not to think about it anymore and had proceeded to do so approximately eleven times.
So when Sunoo padded out of the bathroom on a Friday night and announced that Jungwon was having people round and you were going, you almost said yes just to have something else to do with your brain.
Almost.
“I don’t know those people,” you said flatly, not looking up from your laptop.
“You know me,” Sunoo said, like that settled it, already pulling your jacket off the hook by the door and holding it out.
You looked at him. At the essay on your laptop that’s been waiting since approximately 2pm. At your jacket already in Sunoo's hand.
“Fine,” you muttered. “But I’m not staying past midnight.”
—
Jungwon’s apartment was warm and smelled like garlic bread, which immediately made you feel more charitable toward the whole situation. He answered the door with a bright smile and he genuinely looked like he wanted everyone in his home to have a good time, which was disarming enough that you softened slightly before you’d even stepped inside.
His roommate Jay was sprawled across the couch — tall, dark haired, quite good looking in the way that seemed effortless — one arm around a pretty girl, he introduced her as Millie and she immediately pulled you into conversation like she’d known you for years.
Her friend Gretta was curled in the armchair in the corner with a wine glass, she was sharp eyed and funny, and within ten minutes you’d decided you liked both of them.
Sunoo had already made himself at home, feet tucked under him on the floor, accepting a slice of pizza from Jungwon like he lived there.
It was nice. Easy. You felt the tension you’d been carrying around in your shoulders for two weeks start to loosen.
Then the front door opened.
A man walked in — he was tall with dark hair and was well… very attractive — first, unwinding his scarf, laughing at something over his shoulder.
And behind him walked Jake.
Jake Sim
The air left your lungs in one quiet, controlled exhale that you were extremely proud of.
He looked annoyingly good. Of course he did. Dark hair slightly damp at the edges, fitted grey hoodie, that same easy posture that took up space without even trying. And there — down the left side of his neck, visible even from across the room — a constellation of marks. Dark. Deliberate. Not even slightly concealed.
Your eye twitched (you were NOT going to examine why).
Sunoo, bless him and curse him simultaneously, grabbed your arm and pulled you over for introductions before you could develop an exit strategy.
“Heeseung, Jake, this is my roommate,” Sunoo said cheerfully, gesturing between you and the two boys.
Heeseung smiled at your and gave a “hey” before migrating toward the pizza in the living room.
But Jake… his eyes landed on you.
Something flickered across his face — fast, almost imperceptible — before his mouth curved into an easy smile. The same one from two weeks ago. Of course it was the same one.
“Hey,” he said, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
You shook it. Firm. Brief. Professional, even. “Yeah,” you said. “You too.”
His hand was warm. You remembered how they felt on you, how his warmth engulfed you in sheets —
Stop it.
—
The night settled into a comfortable rhythm for you even if the group of people you’d only met a few hours ago — pizza boxes were open on the coffee table, someone had put a playlist on low, and conversation moved easily around the group.
Jungwon was a good host. Heeseung was funnier than you expected. Millie kept refilling your glass before it was empty, which you appreciated deeply.
All while Jake sat across the room.
He laughed easily, leaned back in his chair with that unbothered energy, talked to Jay about something football related for a while. Casually friendly, relaxed.
Like he was at ease with everything in the universe including apparently the concept of you existing in the same room as him.
Normal like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t looked you dead in the eyes and said already did with a fucking spiteful smile on his face.
You kept your eyes off him with great discipline (you were almost proud of yourself) and talked to Gretta about her film studies course and laughed at Sunoo’s increasingly funny story about the campus library printer destroying his dissertation draft, and you were fine.
You were genuinely fine.
Eventually you excused yourself to the bathroom down the hall. The hall was littered with shelves filled with books — good books too, Jungwon had good taste.
The hallway was quieter, muffled laughter drifting from the living room as you pulled the bathroom door open and stepped in.
You ran cold water over your hands. Stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment.
Fine, you told your reflection. You are completely fine. It was two weeks ago and you do not care.
Your reflection looked deeply unconvinced. You dried your hands, pulled the door open—
Jake was right there.
You stopped.
He stopped.
For one second neither of you said anything.
Then he stepped forward — not aggressive, just deliberate — and you stepped back on instinct, and suddenly you were back in the bathroom and his hand was flat against the door, and it clicked shut behind him.
“What the—” your voice came out low, sharp, “—what the fuck, Jake—”
“I just want to talk,” he said, which would have sounded more convincing if he wasn’t smirking slightly when he said it.
“Bathroom’s free,” you told him. “You can have it.”
“Two minutes.”
You stared at him. Then deciding to hear him out: “Talk then.”
He exhaled, scrubbing a hand through his hair, and for a moment he almost looked like he was genuinely trying to find words. “Look — the other night. I wasn’t—” He paused. Tried again. “I could’ve handled it better. The way I said it.”
You blinked. “That’s your apology?”
“I’m not great at them.”
“Clearly.”
“You’ve never had a one night stand before?” he said then, out of the blue with that stupid smirk on his stupid face.
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“That’s what it was.” A shrug, loose, unbothered. “One night stand. That’s how they work. You don’t stay, you don’t—” he gestured vaguely, “—make it into something it wasn’t.”
The audacity rendered you momentarily speechless.
“I know how a one night stand works,” you said, very carefully.
“Then why are you acting like it meant something?”
“Because you were a dick about it.” You stepped forward, something bright and furious igniting in your chest, embarrassment flooded you and his stupid smug face packed behind every word he said wasn’t helping your anger. “There’s a difference between leaving and humiliating someone on their way out. Do you get that? Or is that concept genuinely too complicated—”
“You’re being dramatic—”
“You’re such an asshole,” you said. Cleanly. Clearly. With everything behind it.
Something shifted in his expression. Not quite what you expected. He stepped closer, head tilting slightly, voice dropping. “Say that again.”
“Asshole,” you said clearly again though with a bit more anger behind it.
His tongue pressed to his cheek. He reached down — casual, brazen, utterly shameless — fingers curling against the obvious strain in the front of his jeans, eyes on yours the entire time.
Your face went hot.
He saw it, of course he saw it, and the corner of his mouth curved in a way that made you want to actually combust — you shoved his shoulder hard enough that he moved. “You’re disgusting,” you informed him.
His grin was infuriating. “You’re blushing.”
“Fuck you, Jake.”
“You already did, baby.” His eyes didn’t move from yours.
You held up your middle finger directly in his face, pulled the door open and walked back down the hall without looking back, jaw set, heart doing something entirely unreasonable in your chest that you were choosing not to examine.
You dropped back onto the couch next to Millie, picked up your drink, smiled when everyone else smiled. Completely normal. Completely fine.
Jake reappeared a minute later. Dropped back into his spot but his eyes found yours across the room.
—
You made it to midnight. Barely.
Sunoo read your face the moment you grabbed your jacket at 11:34 and stood to say your goodbyes without a word, he was on his feet in seconds, hugging Jungwon, kissing Millie on the cheek, and falling into step beside you as the two of you headed out into the cool night air.
You walked in silence for almost a full minute.
“Okay,” Sunoo said carefully. “What happened.”
“Nothing.”
You walked another half block before you finally cracked. “You know that Jake guy that was there tonight?” you said.
Sunoo turned his head slowly toward you. “…Yeah?”
“I hooked up with him,” you said. “At that party two weeks ago. The one you dragged me to.”
Dead silence.
“Sunoo.”
“I’m processing,” he said. Then — “Oh my god.”
“Yeah.”
“He’s the one who—” Sunoo grabbed your arm. “He’s the one you told me about?? The ass who kicked you out and said it wasn’t a ‘sleepover’??”
“Yep,” you confirmed grimly.
“OH.” Sunoo’s voice pitched up an entire octave. “Oh that’s so — he’s such a — I can’t believe — the hickies, by the way, did you see them! Are they from you—”
“Yes I saw them. No they’re not from me,” you said flatly.
“He’s probably a walking STD.”
“Clearly.”
“He has an ego of seven men,” Sunoo declared. “Seven. The ego of a man who has never been told no in his life — which, fine, he’s hot, he’s incredibly hot but whatever—”
“He’s insufferable.”
“Insufferably hot,” Sunoo corrected, then caught your look. “Which means nothing. He’s awful. The worst. You deserve someone who at minimum offers you a blanket after.”
“Thank you,” you said.
“I can’t believe this,” he said. “You know he’s been with like… a million girls?”
“I know. I’m so embarrassed"
Sunoo laughed and linked his arm with yours as the two of you continued to walk back to your dorm.
You made it back thankfully without Sunoo falling from having far too much wine and too much feeding.
You changed into your oversized shirt, and collapsed into bed while Sunoo was still in the bathroom doing his lengthy skincare routine (which is beyond you how he can still always do it while tipsy) and muttering to himself about Jake’s audacity.
You smiled at the ceiling. Okay. You felt better.
Jake was just a guy. A dick guy. A guy with nice hands and a terrible personality and a really, really, really good dick but you’ve decided you don't need to give him another second of your Friday night.
You picked up your phone to set your alarm for tomorrow morning to finally finish that essay. When a notification blinked up at you.
Unknown number: hey
before anyone asks I’ve already got part 3 in the making😆 anyone who wants tagged comment below! Ty for investing in this series xx
at university, two rival rock bands dominate the campus music scene. one led by lee heeseung, the other by y/n. constantly competing for the same spotlight, their rivalry quickly turns personal. but when circumstances force them to work together, the tension between them only grows, blurring the line between hate and something neither of them wants to admit.
notes: this smau has a lot of rock music or other references - if something is unclear don‘t hesitate to ask! on the other side this is the first smau i’ve ever made so i hope you‘ll enjoy :) pls ignore dates & this is not proofread.
이희승 x f!reader ; suggestive, dark humor, crack, mentions of alcohol (if not now, in other chapters), smau, romance, cursing, angst etc.
don't you know how sweet it tastes, now that I'm without you?
pairing soccerplayer!sunghoon x sororitysister!yn
synopsis When your sorority president volunteered the house to work with the soccer team for fundraising, you didn’t know how you were supposed to react. Not when your assigned partner turned out to be Park Sunghoon, the vice-captain and your worst enemy since grade school.
featuring chaewon (LESSERAFIM), sophia (KATSEYE), yunah (ILLIT), ENHYPEN’s hyung line, and MORE! — xinyu (TRIPLES) as your faceclaim
content warning kys jokes, sexual innuendos, drinking, swearing, yn is stubborn, sunghoon is rizzful, sunghoon and Haruna (BILLLIE) are dating and shes rly bitchy :/
note NO HATE TO ANY IDOLS INVOLVEDDD its just a story guys and i dont wanna hear serious hate about the idols only their characters in this story AT MOST!!!!
SYNOPSIS you and seonghyeon have been best friends for so long that no one remembers a version of you without the other. you fight like siblings, compete over everything, and live by one very clear rule never befriend the enemy. teasing him is your favorite hobby. denying everything is his. he insists there’s nothing romantic between you. never has been. never will be. he especially hates when people joke about it because maybe if he rolls his eyes hard enough, the weird feeling in his chest will go away. it works for a short while until you start getting closer to the one person he can’t stand. It’s easy to tell himself that he doesn’t care. it’s harder when he realizes someone else is taking his place besides you and seonghyeon has never been good at losing.
seonghyeon x reader — smau, ft. woojin+louis from lngshot+ ella from meovv+iroha from illit frenemies to lovers, profanity, kys jokes, teen being teens, seonghyeon is easily ragebaited, huge denials (slow burn??),misunderstang&miscommunication, purely fiction!
→ this is lowk inspired by my ex situationship (yo run it back frr👀) guys i’ll be committed to updating this one deadahh, the posting schedule might be all over the place tho. taglist is open! but BOII WE LITTT🔥🔥
