guess who's back!!!!!! uni was really starting to kick my ass so i decided to take some time to deal with that but school starts again next week so i'll see how often i can post </3 but i have sooo many new ideas hehe
Hi 🤍could you to a pogue!reader x rafe please? She's in an abusive household and it's late at night and she just couldn't take it anymore, so she's wandering around obx. Rafe walks by and sees her covered in bruises and crying. At first she's frightened but then she let's him help.... Maybe he takes her to Tanyhill? Love your works BTW 💕💕
nowhere's safe (except here)
plot: a late-night escape from home leads you into rafe's path, and for once, he doesn't let you walk alone.
CONTENT: mentions of abusive (physical and emotional), bruises, implied domestic violence, crying, fear, mentions of an unsafe home, comfort
have fun my beautiful people <3!
the night felt heavier than usual. the walls of your house always pressed in, but tonight it felt like they were trying to crush you. the yelling had been sharp, and the sting from the slap still burned along your cheek. you hadn’t even tried to stop the tears, what was the point anymore? but when the door slammed and the silence came, you couldn’t stand staying in there another second.
so you slipped out barefoot, the screen door creaking behind you, the humid obx air wrapping around your shoulders. you didn’t have a plan. you never really did. you just knew you couldn’t sit there and wait for round two.
your legs carried you down familiar streets you’d walked a hundred times, though never like this. bruises bloomed along your arms, your ribs ached with each breath, and the salt of your tears stung when they slid into the corner of your mouth.
you didn’t hear him at first.
the sound of gravel crunching pulled you out of your fog. you blinked and looked up, chest tightening when you saw the tall frame coming toward you. rafe cameron.
you froze, every muscle in your body going tight. rafe wasn’t someone you knew well, not really. he was a figure from a distance, a kooks’ world kind of boy with sharp edges and a reputation you weren’t sure you trusted. and right now, trust wasn’t something you had left in you.
“the hell are you doin’ out here?” his voice cut through the night, sharp, laced with that usual edge you’d heard about. “pogue wandering around this late, kinda asking for trouble, don’t you think?”
your throat worked, but no words came out. you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, suddenly aware of how messy you must look, eyes swollen, lip trembling, clothes hanging loose over bruises you couldn’t hide.
rafe squinted, taking a step closer like he was sizing you up. “what, cat got your tongue? or you just lookin’ for pity?”
his words stung, and you shifted back a step. but the smirk on his lips faded almost instantly when his eyes dragged lower, catching the dark marks along your arms, the split skin, the way you flinched.
“shit,” he muttered, like the word escaped before he could stop it. “who did that to you?”
your chest squeezed. “don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “please don’t.”
he stopped a few feet from you, raising his hands slightly like he was scared of spooking you. his tone was different now, rougher but gentler all at once. “s’ok. i’m not gonna touch you. just—” his throat bobbed, words rougher now, “you shouldn’t be out here like this. it’s not safe.”
you laughed bitterly, though it cracked halfway. “nowhere’s safe.”
the silence stretched, broken only by your shaky breathing. rafe’s jaw flexed, his fists clenching at his sides like he wanted to break something, but he stayed still, steady.
“look,” he said after a moment, softer, “you can come with me. tanyhill’s not far. you don’t have to stay, not if you don’t want. just… you look like you need somewhere that’s not here.”
the idea of following him felt dangerous. you didn’t know him, not really. you’d heard stories, whispers about temper and trouble, and your whole body was already wired to flinch at the first sign of anger. but something in his voice tugged at you, something raw and unpracticed.
“why?” you asked finally, voice breaking. “why would you even care?”
his eyes softened, and for a second, the usual smugness you associated with his face was gone. “’cause no one else seems to,” he murmured. “and i can’t just leave you like this.”
your lip trembled again, and you hated yourself for it. you didn’t want to need anyone. but your legs were shaking, your chest aching, and the thought of going back to that house made you want to curl into the dirt right there.
so you nodded. barely.
rafe moved carefully, like every step closer was something he had to earn. when he reached you, he tilted his head toward the road. “c’mon. you can walk with me. s’ok, i’ll keep my distance.”
the walk was quiet, but not heavy. he kept to your side but not too close, glancing at you every so often like he was making sure you were still breathing. the night air smelled like salt and pine, the distant hum of crickets filling the space where neither of you spoke.
by the time tanyhill came into view, your body felt like it was running on fumes. rafe noticed. he slowed his steps, his voice low. “almost there. you’re doin’ good.”
the cameron estate looked like another world, towering and warm-lit against the dark. you hesitated at the edge of the driveway, suddenly overwhelmed. “i shouldn’t—”
“hey,” rafe interrupted gently. “you don’t have to explain. just come inside for a bit. get cleaned up, get some water. if you still wanna leave after, i’ll drive you wherever you want.”
you didn’t answer, but when he pushed open the door and stepped back for you, you followed.
the inside smelled faintly like wood polish and something expensive you couldn’t name. rafe led you into the living room, flicking on a lamp that cast a soft golden glow. “sit,” he said quietly, nodding to the couch.
you sank down, fingers knotting in your lap. rafe disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and water running filling the silence, then came back with a glass and a damp cloth.
“here.” he set them on the coffee table in front of you, careful not to crowd.
your hands shook as you reached for the glass. the cool water slid down your throat, grounding you just enough. when you set it back, rafe was crouched across from you, eyes searching your face.
“can i…?” he asked, nodding at the cloth.
you hesitated, but finally gave the faintest nod.
he moved slowly, almost painfully so, as he dabbed at the streaks on your cheek. his touch was gentle, nothing like the hands you were used to.
“does it hurt bad?” he asked quietly.
“not really,” you lied.
his eyes narrowed slightly, like he wanted to call you out, but he didn’t. instead, he leaned back, resting his arms on his knees.
“you don’t gotta tell me what happened,” he said after a while. “but… if you ever want to, i’ll listen.”
the tears burned again, spilling over before you could stop them. you hated crying in front of anyone, but something about the way he said it, like he wasn’t asking for details, just offering a place to put them, broke something in you.
rafe didn’t move right away. he let you cry, let you breathe through it. then, when you finally whispered, “i can’t go back there,” his jaw tightened.
“then don’t,” he said firmly. “stay here. stay as long as you need.”
you shook your head. “i can’t—”
“you can,” he cut in, voice softer this time. “no one’s gonna touch you here. not while i’m around.”
your chest ached, but for the first time in forever, the ache wasn’t just fear. it was something else, hope maybe. fragile, but real.
and when rafe finally leaned back into the couch beside you, leaving space but close enough that you could feel his warmth, you didn’t pull away. you just sat there, bruised and broken, but not alone.
and for tonight, that was enough.
author's note
anyways....how y'all doing.... it has been awhile since i've last posted </3 uni got to me butttt i hope you, my beautiful people, enjoyed this fic i put together heh
plot: when a fire tears through your apartment in the middle of the night, you’re forced to trust the firefighter who carries you and your daughter to safety. with nowhere else to go, you accept his offer of shelter—and slowly, in the stillness of his home, you begin to breathe again
CONTENT: house fire, smoke inhalation, trauma responses, implied homelessness, emotional distress, fluff at the end
@darlingshecried <3 have fun!
you don’t remember the smell of smoke at first. just the sharp scent of burnt plastic and something sour in the air, thick enough to make your nose wrinkle as you stirred awake. your baby was still asleep beside you, her tiny fists curled near her face, her lips parted with each soft breath. it was the sudden flicker of orange light bleeding under the bedroom door that made your chest seize.
at first, you thought it was just a weird dream. then came the alarms—shrill, high-pitched, piercing through your skull like a knife. you sat up fast, lungs catching on panic. your daughter stirred, confused, whining softly as the noise startled her.
“it’s okay, baby,” you whispered, already scooping her into your arms. “we’re okay, i got you, i got you…”
but the second you opened the bedroom door, heat hit you like a wall.
your breath caught. the hallway was thick with smoke, dark and rising fast, and you could see the flames at the end of it—red and violent, eating through the cheap wallpaper like it was nothing.
your instincts kicked in. stay low. cover her face. move fast.
you dropped to your knees, clutching her to your chest, the baby blanket wrapped around her little head as she started crying, her voice high and terrified.
“help!” you shouted, throat burning. “somebody help us!”
you tried the front door. wouldn’t budge. heat warped the frame. your hands shook as you fumbled with the lock, but it wouldn’t give. tears blurred your vision as the smoke thickened, your lungs screaming for air, your baby’s cries getting smaller and smaller.
and then—you heard it.
heavy footsteps. muffled shouting. the sound of a door being bashed open, wood splintering under pressure.
and then him.
he stepped into the room like something out of a movie—helmeted, suited in thick black gear, face covered except for his eyes. calm, blue, and alert.
“two in here!” he shouted over his shoulder, then looked at you. crouched low, one gloved hand outstretched. “ma’am, i need you to come with me. now.”
you couldn’t speak. couldn’t breathe. just nodded, clutching your daughter tighter as he reached for you both.
“i’ve got you,” he said, voice steady through the mask. “i promise. you’re okay.”
he picked you up like you weighed nothing. one arm under your legs, the other cradling your daughter’s back as he moved fast through the smoke, barking out directions to the other firefighters as he carried you outside, into air that felt cold and sharp against your skin.
you coughed hard, lungs scraping against your ribs. someone handed you water. someone else draped a blanket around your shoulders. your daughter was still crying, but she was breathing, reaching up to touch your face with soot-covered fingers.
he crouched next to you a few minutes later, helmet off now, revealing damp blond hair and soot-streaked skin. his eyes were softer up close. tired but kind.
“i’m rafe,” he said gently. “i was the one who carried you out.”
you looked at him, not sure what to say. everything felt far away, like your brain was still stuck inside the fire.
“thank you,” you managed to whisper.
he nodded once. “you did good. keeping low, covering her face. you probably saved her life.”
your breath caught. you didn’t feel like a hero. you felt like a wreck.
he glanced over his shoulder as someone called his name, then looked back at you. “you got anyone nearby? family? friends?”
you shook your head. “just me and her.”
his jaw tightened slightly. he stood up, ran a hand through his hair, then crouched back down.
“listen,” he said after a pause. “i live ten minutes from here. i’ve got a spare room. clean bed. if you need a place for the night, it’s yours.”
you stared at him. “you don’t even know me.”
“i didn’t know you,” he corrected, “but i carried you both outta a burning building, so i figure we’ve already skipped a few steps.”
you almost laughed, but your throat still burned too much. you looked down at your daughter, who was finally starting to calm, then back at him.
“you don’t have to,” he added quickly. “i get it if you’re not comfortable. there’s a motel near the station—we could call ahead, see if they’ve got a room.”
you hesitated. every nerve in your body screamed not to trust a stranger, not with your daughter, not after everything you’d survived.
but you had nowhere else to go.
and he’d already saved your life once.
“…okay,” you whispered. “just for tonight.”
his truck was quiet. warm. you sat in the passenger seat, wrapped in the blanket, your daughter asleep against your chest, still sniffling softly every few minutes.
he didn’t talk much on the drive. just asked if you were warm enough, if your seatbelt was okay, if she needed anything. you shook your head each time, throat still too raw to speak.
his apartment was on the second floor of a building that looked newer than yours had been. it smelled like clean laundry and faint cologne. he held the door open for you, flicked on a soft light, and nodded toward the hallway.
“guest room’s down there. bathroom too. towels are clean. water heater’s strong.”
you blinked. “you sure about this?”
he shrugged, pulling off his boots. “wasn’t gonna leave you two on the curb.”
you carried your daughter to the guest room and laid her down gently on the bed. she curled onto her side instantly, thumb in her mouth, lashes still damp from crying.
you watched her for a moment, chest aching. she’d been so scared. you both had.
you didn’t realize rafe was standing in the doorway until you turned.
“you want something to wear?” he asked. “your clothes are… yeah.”
you looked down. soot and ash, fabric torn and damp with sweat. you nodded.
he returned a minute later with a faded t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants that looked soft and worn. you thanked him and shut the door.
the hot water stung at first. your skin was raw in places, smoke still clinging to your hair, your eyes. you scrubbed until you were pink, until your fingers ached, until you felt almost human again.
you didn’t cry. not in the shower. not yet.
he was in the kitchen when you came out. the shirt hung to your thighs. your daughter’s blanket was freshly washed, draped over the back of the couch.
“tea?” he asked, holding up a mug.
you nodded and sat across from him at the small kitchen table. the tea was hot and strong, and it burned your throat going down. it was the best thing you’d tasted in days.
“i don’t usually trust people,” you said quietly after a while.
rafe didn’t look surprised. just sipped his tea.
“especially not men,” you added. “especially not strangers.”
“understandable.”
“but i didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
he looked at you then. really looked at you. not in a weird way. just… like he got it. like he’d seen too many people crawl out of flames with nowhere to land after.
“you can stay here as long as you need,” he said. “i mean it.”
your fingers tightened around the mug. “i can’t pay you.”
“wasn’t asking you to.”
you didn’t know what to say to that. so you just nodded.
you didn’t sleep much that night. kept getting up to check on her, to make sure she was still breathing, still there. rafe had left a baby monitor on the nightstand—said it was from his niece. hadn’t used it in a while, but it still worked.
you listened to the sound of her soft breathing through it. in. out. safe.
your eyes didn’t close until nearly dawn.
he was already gone when you woke up. a note on the counter said he had a shift but would be back around six. there was cereal in the pantry, cartoons on the tv, and extra diapers under the sink—he’d picked some up before leaving, just in case.
you sat on the couch with your daughter in your lap, heart aching at how easily she smiled at the animated characters on screen. like nothing had happened. like she hadn’t been in your arms, screaming for her life twelve hours ago.
you buried your face in her hair and let yourself cry, finally.
not loud. not messy. just silent tears that soaked into her curls while she giggled at the screen.
he came home tired, smelling faintly of smoke and soap. his eyes scanned the room until they found you.
“everything okay?”
you nodded. “thank you for the diapers.”
he smiled. “no problem. she likes elmo, huh?”
“she’s obsessed.”
he nodded like he’d take note of that. maybe he did.
three days turned into a week.
he never pried. never asked questions you weren’t ready to answer. he just let you be. gave you space. cooked sometimes. let you use the laundry. let your daughter nap on his chest after she got comfortable enough to reach for him.
“you’re good with her,” you said one evening, watching them on the couch.
rafe shrugged. “my sister’s got twins. i babysit sometimes.”
you nodded. watched as your daughter tugged gently on his nose and made him laugh.
you hadn’t heard her laugh like that since before the fire.
you found a temporary shelter that would take you in after two weeks. filled out forms. stood in long lines. tried to ignore how heavy your feet felt as you packed the baby’s things into the bag rafe lent you.
he didn’t say much when you told him. just helped you load the car.
when you turned to say goodbye, he just looked at you with that same quiet steadiness.
“you ever need anything,” he said, “you know where i’m at.”
you nodded. “thank you, rafe. for everything.”
he looked at your daughter. gave her a little wave.
“stay safe, sweetheart.”
she smiled at him. reached for him one last time.
you let her.
you didn’t know if you’d see him again.
but a week later, when the shelter lost power in a storm, you didn’t even hesitate before calling.
he picked up on the second ring.
“you two need a place to stay?” he asked.
you swallowed. “if it’s still okay.”
“always.”
and just like before—he opened his door.
no questions asked.
just steady arms and warm light.
and a place to land.
author’s note
i really enjoyed writing this! hope uguys enjoyed <3
Hii, just wondering if do a little blurb for a reader who cries when they're angry. Like Rafe and the reader are in an argument and maybe he's yelling or smth but after the reader says a few things she like breaks down sobbing while trying to argue but failing
★ don't cry, baby
wait i actually lov this
you weren’t even trying to argue, not really. not at first.
you’d just asked a question—maybe a little sharp, maybe too much tension curled in your tone—but it had been innocent in your head. a simple “where were you?” that somehow struck a nerve.
he looked at you like you’d said something cruel. like you’d accused him of something he didn’t do.
and maybe that’s where it all started.
“i told you i was with topper,” he snapped, standing in the middle of the living room with his arms crossed, shoulders tight. “why do you keep asking me that?”
you blinked, trying to keep calm. “because you didn’t answer your phone all night.”
“my phone died,” he shot back. “what, you think i’m lying?”
you didn’t say anything, and maybe that’s what pissed him off the most.
rafe had always been like this—his fuse a little too short, his voice a little too loud when he felt cornered. you’d gotten used to it, most days. he never meant to yell. he never meant to make you feel small. but tonight, your skin already felt raw, and every word he threw sounded sharper than usual.
“jesus, y/n, what do you want from me?” he barked, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to pull the frustration out of his skull. “you want a fucking minute-by-minute breakdown of my night? is that it?”
you flinched, just a little, but enough that his face changed for a split second—like he noticed. like he regretted it.
but you were too far in now.
“no,” you said softly, voice trembling despite your best effort. “i just wanted to know why you didn’t come home.”
he scoffed, shaking his head. “i fell asleep, alright? topper’s couch. didn’t know i had to report back to you like i’m on parole.”
“you said you’d be back,” you whispered.
“and i didn’t realize that meant i was gonna get interrogated like this if i wasn’t. god, y/n, i can’t fucking breathe with you sometimes—”
“don’t say that,” you cut in, your voice cracking, and that was the beginning of the end.
your chest felt tight. your face hot. and even though you were still trying—still trying to argue back, to explain, to stand your ground—your eyes were already burning.
he didn’t notice at first. or maybe he did and ignored it.
“you always do this,” he muttered, pacing now. “always think the worst of me. always turn shit into a fight when i’m already f*cking trying.”
“i’m not trying to fight with you,” you said, louder than before, but your voice wobbled on the last word.
and that’s when it happened.
you opened your mouth to keep going—“i just wanted to feel like you cared, like you didn’t forget about me”—but all that came out was a strangled little sob. not cute. not quiet. not something you could play off.
you were crying. fully crying.
and rafe went still.
your hands came up to your face instinctively, wiping at the tears like you could stop them, like that would fix the way your voice broke every time you tried to speak. you shook your head, trying to get it together, trying to finish what you’d started.
“i’m not—” another sob cracked through your words. “i’m not trying to fight, i’m not—god, i’m so tired, i just—i don’t even know—”
rafe’s expression crumbled like wet paper.
“baby—” his voice dropped, suddenly soft, hesitant.
but you kept going. you were spiraling now, sobbing into your palms, barely able to form words between gasps for air.
“you’re always mad at me, and i’m always scared of saying the wrong thing, and i hate feeling like this, i hate crying, i hate this—”
“baby, no—shh, hey, come here, come here,” rafe was in front of you before you could move, hands on your arms, panicked. “fuck, i didn’t—i didn’t mean to make you cry.”
you hiccuped through another sob, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you.
“don’t,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest despite your protests. “don’t push me away. not right now. i’m here, i’m right here.”
you were shaking.
your tears soaked through his shirt. your hands clutched at his sides without meaning to, like your body needed the comfort more than your brain wanted it.
“‘m sorry,” you gasped, half-incoherent. “i don’t cry like this, i swear, i just—I get mad, and then i cry, and i can’t talk when i’m like this, and—”
he held you tighter. rocked you a little. kissed your hair.
“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he murmured. “this is my fault. i shouldn’t have yelled. i didn’t mean any of that shit, okay? you didn’t deserve that.”
you sniffled, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
he moved one hand to the back of your head, cradling it gently, and kept whispering.
“i just get so fucking stupid sometimes. when i think you’re upset with me, i get loud, and i get mean, and i hate that i do that. you’re the last person i ever wanna hurt.”
you didn’t answer, still catching your breath, tears still leaking from the corners of your eyes even as they slowed.
“you have every right to be mad,” he said softly. “i told you i’d come home and i didn’t. you were just worried, weren’t you?”
you nodded against his chest, miserably.
“and then i showed up and started yelling like a f*cking asshole. jesus, baby, i’m so sorry.”
you mumbled something unintelligible, and rafe leaned down, tipping your chin up gently so he could see your face.
“say that again?”
“i didn’t mean to cry,” you whispered. “i hate crying when i’m angry. i hate it.”
“hey,” he said, brushing your hair back. “look at me.”
you did, barely.
his expression was nothing but soft now, like all the anger had drained out of him the moment he saw your tears.
“you cry because you care,” he said, voice low. “and that’s not a bad thing.”
you swallowed thickly, lip trembling.
“it’s embarrassing.”
“it’s not,” he promised. “it’s not, baby. not to me.”
he wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, lingering there for a second too long. like he couldn’t stand the idea of leaving you upset.
“you’re so strong all the time,” he murmured. “sometimes you forget you’re allowed to break a little. you don’t have to hold it in with me.”
you leaned into his touch without meaning to, and he took that as a sign to guide you to the couch. he sat down first, pulling you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“you warm enough?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you again. “want a blanket?”
you shook your head, resting your forehead against his collarbone.
he kissed the top of your head.
“i’ll be better,” he said quietly. “i promise.”
you didn’t say anything for a while. your tears dried slow, breath returning steady. you could feel your face aching from crying, throat raw, head pounding.
but rafe held you like he had nowhere else to be. like you were something fragile he couldn’t afford to let go of. he didn’t try to make it better with jokes or fake promises. he just stayed, quiet and steady.
and eventually, when your voice came back, you whispered:
“i just wanted you to come home.”
his arms tightened around you instantly.
“i know,” he said. “and i will. every time. i swear.”
OMG!!! I love your writing so so so much, I have a request! You’re watching a scary movie together at Tannyhill. You get scared and hide your face against his arm, and he plays it cool until he realizes you’re actually scared. Then he turns the movie off and jokes that you owe him cuddles for the emotional trauma. Thank you!!!!!
୨୧ ♡ safe with you
sorry for getting to this late bby </3 but hope u enjoy!
tannyhill’s quiet tonight—no parties, no chaos, just the soft hum of the fridge down the hall and the occasional creak of old floorboards settling. the lights are dim, the couch is too big for two people who aren’t cuddling, and the horror movie rafe picked is already three jumpscares in.
“this one’s supposed to be psychological,” he says, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch like he’s completely unbothered.
you shoot him a side-eye, shifting the blanket over your legs. “psychological like… mind games? or psychological like… ‘you’ll never sleep again’?”
he smirks, not looking away from the screen. “mm. bit of both.”
you try to match his calm, lean back, pretend like your heart’s not already racing every time the music swells. but the suspense is crawling under your skin, cold and prickly, and when the camera pans just a little too slowly down a dark hallway, you already know something’s coming.
you brace.
and then it happens—loud, jarring, too sudden. something screeches and lunges toward the camera and your hand flies up like instinct, like covering your face could block it all out. but instead of the throw pillow you’d been clutching, you end up leaning into rafe. forehead pressed to his bicep, hand curled in the fabric of his hoodie, breath caught somewhere in your chest.
“woah—” he laughs, just a little, surprised. “damn, babe. didn’t know you were this easy to scare.”
you don’t respond. don’t move. just stay there, curled up against his arm, completely still.
rafe blinks.
“…hey.” his voice lowers, just a bit. “you good?”
nothing. just the tiniest shake of your head against his sleeve.
he pauses then. doesn’t joke. doesn’t tease. just looks down at you—really looks—and his chest tugs a little.
you’re not trembling exactly, but your fingers are curled tight into his hoodie like you don’t even realize it, like letting go might make it worse. your breath is soft and uneven, cheek warm against his skin. and yeah, okay, maybe he thought you were just faking it to be cute—he wouldn’t have blamed you—but now?
his whole face softens.
“alright,” he mutters, more to himself than you, already reaching for the remote. “we’re not doing this.”
screen goes dark. silence rushes in.
“movie night’s cancelled,” he declares, tugging the blanket higher over both of you. “new rule: no haunted dolls, demons, or blood-curdling screams allowed in my living room.”
you peek up at him, eyes wide and a little sheepish, still not all the way calm. rafe just wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in, like it’s nothing.
“also,” he adds, glancing down at you with a smirk creeping back into his voice, “you definitely owe me cuddles for the emotional damage.”
you let out a small breath, tension still sitting somewhere in your ribs, but it starts to ease the second rafe settles you against his chest. one of his hands comes up to smooth over your back, slow and steady, like he’s not in a rush to move you or let go.
“you good now?” he murmurs, nose brushing the top of your head.
you nod, not pulling away. “wasn’t that scary.”
he huffs a laugh, but it’s quiet. “sure, babe. totally believable. that shriek you let out? absolutely not rooted in fear.”
you swat at his side, but it’s half-hearted at best. you’re already melting into him.
the blanket is warm, his hoodie even warmer, and the way his fingers keep tracing gentle shapes along your spine is making it harder and harder to stay awake. rafe notices, of course. he always does.
“mhm,” he says, low and teasing, lips brushing your temple. “you fall asleep on me, i’m takin’ a mental screenshot. you know that, right?”
“do it,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut. “not scared of that.”
he doesn’t answer right away—just looks at you for a second longer. at how soft you’ve gone in his arms. at the way your lashes kiss your cheeks and your mouth tugs into the faintest smile. you, safe and close and finally calm.
his smirk fades into something gentler.
“yeah,” he whispers. “me neither.”
you don’t hear that part. you’re already half-asleep, tucked into him like you belong there, like you always have. and rafe just holds you a little closer, lets the silence stretch, the night slow down.
the tv stays off. the lights stay low. and he stays right there, with you—warm and quiet and full of every excuse he’d ever need just to keep holding you like this.
plot: ditzy and forgetful, you live with your head in the clouds-but rafe never minds picking up the pieces you drop. in his quiet, steady way, he reminds you that being loved doesn't mean being perfect.
CONTENT: mild language, mentions of self-doubt/insecurity, lots of fluff
have fun!
you forget your keys. again.
rafe’s leaning against the doorframe, brows arched, watching you pat every pocket like it’ll magically fix something. you’re juggling your tote bag, your phone, a half-eaten granola bar you swear you don’t remember picking up, and your water bottle that keeps sloshing like it’s trying to escape.
he doesn’t say anything. just holds up the familiar pink keychain with the chipped “hello kitty” charm that’s seen better days.
you gasp. “you’re magic.”
“nah,” he says, voice flat but soft at the edges. “you just leave ‘em in the fridge.”
you blink. “the fridge?”
he nods.
“…why would i put my keys in the fridge?”
he gives you a look. it’s not mean—never is. it’s amusement. fond, in that quiet way he doesn’t know how to say out loud. “same reason you put your phone in the pantry last week.”
“okay, that was one time—”
“three.”
“maybe i was multitasking.”
he drops the keys into your palm and curls his fingers around yours. “maybe you need a babysitter.”
you grin. “lucky i’ve got you, then.”
he doesn’t say anything to that, just shuts the door behind you both and walks you down to the car, hand still loosely hooked around yours like he’s afraid you’ll float off if he lets go.
you forget things. all the time.
you forget your lunch on the kitchen counter and your charger in the bathroom. you forget where you parked and what day of the week it is. you forget the punchline of jokes halfway through telling them.
and somehow—rafe never seems to mind.
he remembers it all. what you like in your coffee (light oat milk, two sugars), the way you like your eggs (scrambled, soft), the way you get cold on the couch even in july. he tucks throw blankets around you without asking. stocks your favorite gum in the glove compartment. carries an extra hair tie in his wallet even though he pretends it’s not on purpose.
you don’t know when he started doing all that. you just know that he does. and that it makes your chest warm in that aching, confusing way you haven’t figured out how to name yet.
“what’re you thinkin’ so hard about?” he asks one night, arm slung over the back of the couch, remote in his hand.
you’re staring at the tv but not watching it. some romcom plays in the background, but you couldn’t name a single character if someone paid you.
you tilt your head, thinking. “i was wondering what would happen if dogs could vote.”
rafe turns to look at you. “huh?”
you blink at him. “like, do you think they’d be conservative or liberal? or maybe form their own party. bark-gressives.”
he stares.
then: “jesus christ.”
you smile, pleased.
he drops his head back against the cushion. “you’re gonna be the reason i lose brain cells.”
“but i’m cute, right?”
he sighs, and it’s exaggerated, all drama and no heat. “unfortunately.”
you lean into his side, heart quietly pounding. “you like me even though i’m a little dumb, huh?”
he doesn’t answer for a beat.
but then he shifts. angles toward you. hooks a finger under your chin so you’re looking up at him, eyes wide and blinking.
“you’re not dumb,” he says, voice low and sincere. “you’re just… floaty.”
you giggle. “floaty?”
“yeah. like a balloon.” he pauses. “with sparkles in it.”
“oh my god, that’s kinda cute.”
he shrugs, like it’s no big deal. like he didn’t just compare you to a glittery balloon with the most casual affection in the world.
your chest does that warm-aching thing again. you bite your lip. “can i kiss you?”
he blinks.
then he leans in, slow, like he’s worried you’ll spook. “you can do anything you want.”
you kiss him.
it’s soft. careful. your lips are sugar-sweet from the candy you’d been eating earlier and his are warm, steady, like they’ve been waiting.
he keeps his hand on your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll forget where you are mid-kiss and wander off. (you might. you’ve done worse.)
you show up at his apartment three days later with a giant bag of marshmallows and absolutely no explanation.
he opens the door, eyebrows already raised. “you’re gonna tell me why, or—”
“have you ever tried microwaving them?”
he squints. “microwaving what?”
“marshmallows!”
“…no?”
you grin. “they puff up! like—like pufferfish, but snackable!”
he blinks slowly. “okay.”
you shoulder your way in and make yourself at home, barefoot and humming a song he knows you forgot the words to. the microwave whirs. the marshmallows grow. you clap your hands like a kid at a magic show.
he watches you laugh at the melted goo mess you make and can’t stop the small smile tugging at his mouth.
you leave powdered sugar fingerprints on his counter. he doesn’t clean them off until the next day.
some people say you’re too much. too distracted. too scattered. you space out, you talk in loops, you laugh too loud at the wrong parts of movies.
but rafe never makes you feel like you’re too anything.
he just… makes space. always.
you start noticing how he adapts without even thinking.
how he reads menus out loud when your brain’s too foggy to decide. how he texts you reminders before appointments. how he writes your name on your coffee cups even when he’s not the one ordering.
how he touches you gently—like you’re made of seafoam and starlight.
one night, after a long day where everything felt a little too hard and your thoughts kept slipping through your fingers like water, you curl into his side and whisper, “do i exhaust you?”
his hand stills on your back. “what?”
you hide your face in his sweatshirt. “i know i’m… kinda messy. and i forget things. and i ramble. i’m not like—other girls. y’know. put-together. polished. easy.”
rafe pulls back just enough to look at you. his expression is unreadable at first. then it softens.
“you’re not exhausting,” he says, firm. “you’re just different. and i like that.”
you search his face, unsure. “you mean it?”
he leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth. “if i didn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”
you blink. “where would you be?”
he shrugs. “probably losing brain cells somewhere else.”
you laugh, all breath and relief. you feel his arms tighten around you.
“i mean it,” he says again, quieter. “you’re not too much. not for me.”
he finds one of your socks in his dresser drawer.
he doesn’t ask how it got there.
just folds it and puts it in the little basket he’s started keeping by the door—your collection of forgotten things. a lanyard, a lipstick, a crumpled receipt with a heart doodled on it.
he picks up the receipt, stares at the scribbled heart.
smiles to himself.
you fall asleep on his chest one night after a late movie and half a pizza. you drool a little.
he doesn’t move.
doesn’t wake you up.
just rests his chin on your head and traces slow circles on your back, steady and silent.
when you shift in your sleep and murmur his name, he whispers, “i’m here,” like it’s a promise he’ll never break.
rafe’s not good at saying how he feels.
he’s got rough edges and sharp instincts. sometimes he gets quiet when he’s overwhelmed, and you never push.
but he shows you.
in the way he knows your order by heart. in the way he waits for you to catch up when your mind wanders off. in the way he listens—really listens—even when you’re talking about something silly, like cloud shapes or conspiracy theories about birds not being real.
you notice it all.
maybe you forget your charger again the next morning.
but you don’t forget that.
on your birthday, he gives you a box.
inside: a scrapbook.
every page is chaotic, like your brain. glitter stickers, random photos, half-doodles, a gum wrapper you’d once claimed was “lucky.” and notes. so many notes. little things he’s remembered. inside jokes. polaroids of you making stupid faces.
on the last page: a note that just says, “i love your mind. and i love you.”
your hands shake.
you look up at him, eyes glassy.
“you remembered all this?”
he shrugs, like it’s nothing.
you launch yourself at him, arms tight around his neck.
“i love you too,” you whisper, so soft he almost doesn’t hear.
but he does.
and he holds you like he’ll never let go.
you forget your umbrella the next week.
he meets you at work with one, standing in the rain, hair damp, hoodie pulled up.
you laugh, skipping over puddles to get to him. “you’re gonna catch a cold.”
“worth it.”
he opens the umbrella over you both, tugs you close, and says, “let’s go home.”
you blink. “home?”
his lips twitch. “yeah. ours.”
author's note
hello everyone! i am back, and hopefully for awhile now! <3
only ten minutes, but it felt like a hundred when you were standing in front of the mirror trying to figure out if your sandals were too shiny.
(“can sandals even be too shiny?” you asked out loud. “is that a thing?”)
you changed outfits three times.
first it was the pink dress — but then you worried it was too pink.
then it was jeans — but what if it looked like you weren’t trying?
then it was your favorite sundress, the one with little strawberries on it.
you spun around once, tripped over your own feet, and decided: okay. this is the one.
your phone buzzed just as you were grabbing your bag.
rafey baby: outside whenever you’re ready, baby. no rush.
you nearly dropped your phone and your lip gloss at the same time.
scrambling out the door, you almost forgot your keys — had to run back, grab them — and then finally, finally, you tumbled outside.
and there he was.
rafe was leaning against his truck, hands in his pockets, looking like he belonged on a movie poster.
baseball cap turned backwards. white t-shirt, jeans, the chain around his neck glinting in the evening sun.
but the second he saw you, something shifted in his whole face.
like he forgot how to breathe for a second.
you waved wildly, almost hitting yourself in the face with your purse strap.
“hi!! sorry sorry sorry!!” you called, half-tripping down the porch steps. “i was gonna be ready but then i thought my shoes were too sparkly but then i couldn’t find my other sandals so then i had to—”
you stopped when you reached him, breathing hard.
rafe just smiled.
soft and easy and so, so gone.
“you’re good, sweet girl,” he said, reaching out without even thinking and tucking a flyaway piece of hair behind your ear. “worth the wait.”
you went still, blinking up at him.
your cheeks went so hot you thought you might actually catch fire.
he opened the truck door for you, offering his hand to help you climb up.
you totally forgot to grab it — missed by, like, a mile — and smacked your knee on the doorframe instead.
“ow,” you mumbled, wincing.
rafe was immediately there, hand on your leg, checking.
“you good, baby?”
you nodded furiously.
“i’m great! i’m like, indestructible! i’m basically iron man!!”
rafe bit back a laugh, running his hand down your shin once more before letting go.
“sure you are, baby,” he murmured.
“my little iron girl.”
you grinned, sliding into the seat.
your dress fluffed up around you like cotton candy.
the drive was easy.
you talked the entire time — about how you almost got a cat last week (but then you got distracted and left the shelter without it), about how you thought stop signs should be prettier colors, about how you once tried to microwave soup without a bowl.
rafe just listened, smiling the whole time.
like he couldn’t get enough of you.
like he didn’t want you to ever stop talking.
he took you to the boardwalk.
the sky was all orange and pink, the ocean glittering, and there were string lights twinkling over the little shops and restaurants.
“wanted to do somethin’ fun,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking suddenly a little nervous. “somewhere we could, you know… just hang out. nothin’ fancy.”
you beamed up at him.
“this is perfect, rafe!”
he relaxed immediately.
and then you reached out — without thinking — and grabbed his hand.
he froze.
not because he didn’t want it.
because he wanted it too much.
your fingers laced through his like it was nothing.
like it was natural.
you swung your joined hands a little as you walked, totally oblivious to how red his ears were turning.
“can we get ice cream?” you asked hopefully.
“anything you want, sweet girl,” rafe said, voice a little hoarse.
you got two cones — one strawberry (for you, obviously), and one vanilla (for rafe).
you immediately dripped yours all over your wrist.
“oh nooo,” you whined. “i’m melting!!”
rafe grabbed a napkin, gently wiping your hand clean, just like he had the very first day.
“told you,” he said, grinning, “you’re made of sugar.”
you giggled, totally missing the way his eyes dropped to your mouth — the way he watched the little drip of pink ice cream on your bottom lip like he was fighting for his life.
you walked the whole boardwalk like that.
holding hands, laughing, you accidentally getting way too excited about a stuffed animal stand and nearly knocking over a whole display.
rafe caught it before it hit the ground.
caught you, too — hands steadying you at the waist, holding you close for a second too long.
you looked up at him, wide-eyed.
he looked down at you like he wanted to kiss you so bad it hurt.
but he didn’t.
not yet.
instead, he just brushed a thumb along your jaw, soft and slow, and said,
“careful, sweet girl. don’t wanna lose you.”
you nodded, heart hammering, not sure if he meant it the way it sounded like he did.
but rafe knew exactly what he meant.
and he wasn’t gonna let you slip away.
not now.
not ever.
author's note
i should be studying..but oh well! hope u enjoyed, my sweet beautiful people <3
Hi angel!! Maybe you could a do a fic of ditzy and rafe, and ditzy does something and rafe accidentally makes her feel dumb and hurts her feelings!!
: ̗̀➛ falling short
i dunno how to feel abt this one..but enjoy! <3
it’s a quiet saturday afternoon, but the tension in the air is thick. you’re sittin’ on the couch, scrolling through your phone, pretending you’re lost in whatever nonsense the internet’s showing you. but it’s hard to focus when rafe’s been so distant the last few days. you can’t quite figure it out—he’s been so on edge, snappy even, and you can tell it’s not about you, but every time you try to bring it up, he shuts it down.
you don’t know what’s been goin’ on with him, but the worry has started to eat away at you. you want to talk to him, but you’re scared. every time you open your mouth, he looks at you like you’re addin’ to his stress, not helpin’ it.
today, though, you decide to push it. you can’t stand the silence anymore, the walls growing higher between you. it’s like you’re right here, but still so far away. you glance over at him, where he’s leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes narrowed as he stirs a cup of coffee. something in his posture, the way he holds himself, is off. so you clear your throat, trying to catch his attention.
“rafe?” you ask softly, but it’s the wrong time. his head jerks up, his eyes flashing irritation.
“what?” he snaps, more harshly than you were expectin’. his voice is sharp, and it stings more than it should. “you need somethin’?”
you blink, thrown off by the tone. he’s never like this, not really. sure, he has his moods, but this is different. this is… mean.
“i—i just wanted to check in,” you start, voice smaller than you meant it to be. “you’ve been actin’ different. i miss you, rafe.”
he clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath before setting the cup down with a little too much force. “i’m fine,” he mutters, his words flat, the anger simmering beneath them. “just tired, okay? work’s been hell. i don’t need you askin’ a million questions.”
you swallow hard, the tightness in your chest pulling you in. “i’m not askin’ to make things harder,” you whisper, trying to make sense of the frustration swirling in the air. “i just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
“well, maybe i don’t need you to make sure i’m alright,” rafe snaps, and his voice cuts through you like a knife. you didn’t expect it to go this far, didn’t think he’d really snap at you like that. “you never get it, do you? always askin’ about dumb shit. why don’t you just take a minute and think before you talk for once?”
the words hit like a ton of bricks, and you freeze, heart hammering in your chest. you try to speak, but it feels like your voice is stuck. everything in you crumbles. the worry, the fear—it’s all bubbling to the surface now, like a dam ready to break.
“rafe…” you whisper, but it’s barely a sound. the tears start to build up, but you push them down. you don’t want him to see. you don’t want to be even more of a disappointment.
“you don’t have to be so mean…” you murmur, but your voice is shaky, barely a whisper. “i’m just—i don’t know, i’m just tryin’ to help, rafe.”
he lets out an exasperated breath, running a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated with the whole situation. “you’re always tryin’ to help, but you don’t even know what’s going on half the time” he says, voice low and sharp. “it’s like you’re livin’ in your own world, where everything’s fine and dandy, and i’m the one who has to deal with all the shit. i’m sorry i’m not as perfect as you think i am, but sometimes it’d be nice if you just got it.”
you feel the tears well up before you can stop them, the way his words twist in your chest, pulling at the last thread of confidence you had left. it’s like he’s telling you everything you already feared—that you’re not good enough, that you’re just too much of a mess, too dumb for him.
you turn your head quickly to hide the tears, but they slip down your cheeks anyway. “i’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, “i’m sorry i’m so dumb, rafe. i just… i just don’t know what you want from me. i try so hard, and i always mess up. always.”
rafe’s anger falters for a moment, but the coldness still hangs in the air. he doesn’t step forward. doesn’t reach for you right away. he just stands there, face twisted with frustration, unsure of how to fix what he’s just broken.
“i didn’t mean it like that, okay?” he says after a long pause, voice quieter, but still laced with tension. “i’m just—i’m not mad at you, i’m mad at everything else. work’s been a shitshow, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have.”
you nod, but you don’t move, still wrapped in the sting of his words. he’s sorry, but you don’t know if it’s enough yet. you feel small, stupid for caring so much about what he says, but it’s hard to push away the feeling that maybe he’s right. Maybe you are too much of a mess to keep up.
“i’m just… i don’t know, rafe,” you mumble, wiping at your face. “i try, i do… but i mess up all the time. i’m dumb. i get everything wrong.”
there’s a long silence, and you wait for him to push past this, to make it better. but he doesn’t. he stands there, just watching you, as if he’s trying to figure out how to get back to you. he doesn’t speak for a long while, and it feels like you’re on opposite sides of a huge chasm, too far for him to bridge with just a couple of words.
“baby, please… i’m not sayin’ you’re dumb, okay? i’m not,” rafe says, finally stepping closer, his voice gentler now, like he’s still unsure of how to make things right. “i’m just mad, and i took it out on you. but you’re not dumb. you’re not stupid. i don’t ever want you to think that.”
you look up at him, the hurt still there, but now it’s mixed with confusion. “but you just called me that… like, it’s all i do. mess up. ask questions. forget things. i know you’re tired, and i know i can be… well, a mess, but i just— i just don’t get why it feels like i’m always falling short.”
rafe’s hand shakes slightly as he reaches for you, but when you flinch away, his expression falters. he doesn’t push any further, instead letting the space between you remain. “baby, please, don’t cry. m’sorry,” he says, voice thick with regret. “i shouldn’t have said that. i wasn’t thinkin’ when i snapped. i don’t care about you forgettin’ stuff or askin’ questions. i care about you, and i messed up, okay?”
you don’t respond right away, letting the silence settle over you, the tears continuing to fall, but now they feel different. they feel less like they’re from hurt, more like they’re from confusion, from needing to understand why he would hurt you, why it got this far.
you shake your head slowly. “i don’t know if i can just forget what you said.”
rafe nods, his face creasing with guilt. “i get that. i just need you to know that i never meant to make you feel… small, sweetheart. you’re not. you’re everything to me. i was frustrated and i took it out on you. i promise, you don’t deserve that. not ever.”
there’s another long pause, and you feel like you’re breaking and rebuilding all at once. finally, you take a deep breath, looking at him through blurry eyes. “you sure?” you whisper. “you sure i’m not dumb?”
“i’m sure,” he says, voice low and steady now, and he steps forward, slowly this time, giving you the space you need. “you’re not dumb, baby. you’re perfect the way you are. i love you just as you are, quirks and all.”
you let out a shaky breath, and something in you softens, even though the hurt’s still there, lingering. but it feels different now, not like a deep wound. more like a bruise that just needs a little time to heal.
“i love you too, rafe,” you whisper, finally reaching for him, letting him pull you into his arms. “but you gotta be better. you can’t just call me dumb when i’m tryin’ so hard.”
“i know,” he murmurs, holding you close. “m’sorry, baby. i’ll do better. i swear.”
you nod against his chest, the tension between you starting to melt, slowly but surely. you don’t know if everything’s okay yet, but you know it will be. it’s just gonna take time. it always does.
Hiiiii! I love your work so much and I have a request. Can you do where the reader and Rafe are best friends but everyone knows they like each other except them. At a bonfire the reader comes up to Rafe and they have a conversation and she leaves and Kelce is like “you only smile like that with her.”
only ever you ──── ୨୧ ────
i should be working on my research paper...but oh well. i had to write this!!
the bonfire was already burning high when you got there, the sky dark and the air thick with smoke and laughter. you weren’t really in the mood for the crowd, the noise, the stupid stuff kelce and topper always got into when they were drunk off their asses—but you figured maybe you’d catch a glimpse of him. that usually made it worth it.
and sure enough, there he was, leaning against the cooler, his eyes scanning the crowd like he was looking for something. your stomach did that familiar flip when you saw him. he was rafe. and you were definitely looking for him.
you swung your legs from where you sat on the back of someone’s truck, drink in hand, talking to a girl whose name you didn’t care enough to remember. you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. it was easy to laugh around rafe. always had been.
you spotted him then, the way his eyes flicked over you before narrowing in, catching your gaze. his face softened, just for a second. you felt your heart stutter.
you hopped off the truck—almost tripping on your way down—and made your way over to him, grinning like an idiot. his expression softened the moment you were close, and your heart sped up.
“rafe!” you chirped, bumping into his side as you got close. “was starting to think you weren’t gonna show up.”
he smiled back, a real, wide smile that made something flutter in your chest. “wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his voice low and warm as his eyes softened.
you felt that familiar warmth spread across your cheeks, a shy little laugh escaping as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. you looked up at him, all wide-eyed. “thought you were mad at me or something,” you teased, half serious.
rafe frowned, leaning down a little so you could hear him over the music. “why the hell would i be mad at you, baby?” he asked, voice rougher than he probably intended.
you shrugged, sheepish, suddenly feeling small. “dunno. just felt like maybe i was being… annoying. kept texting you today.”
his expression shifted, like you’d just taken the wind out of him. he shook his head and reached out, without thinking, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers brushed your cheek, and you nearly melted right there.
“could never be mad at you,” he said, his voice low, like he meant every word. “ain’t nothing you could do that’d annoy me, m’sweet girl.”
your heart skipped a beat at the way he said it, your cheeks flushing even deeper. you ducked your head, laughing softly. “you’re just saying that.”
“ain’t,” he murmured, softer now, his gaze locked onto yours like it was just the two of you standing there. he almost said something else, you could tell, but then someone called his name from across the fire, and he broke his gaze, looking away. you pulled back, swaying on your feet as you tried to act normal again.
“i’m gonna go get another drink,” you said, nodding toward the coolers. “you want something?”
he shook his head, his eyes never leaving you as you turned. “nah, i’m good.”
you smiled again, a little smaller this time, and made your way to the coolers, leaving him standing there with your heart all tangled up in his gaze.
“jesus christ,” kelce said, sidling up next to him with a shit-eating grin. “you only smile like that with her, y’know.”
rafe scowled, taking a long pull of his beer. “shut the fuck up, kelce.”
“no, for real,” kelce laughed, nudging him with his shoulder. “you’re hopeless, man. everybody sees it. everybody. she’s fuckin’ made for you or something.”
rafe didn’t respond. he just stared into the fire, the words sitting heavy in his chest. he thought about the way you looked at him, like he was something worth looking at. he thought about the easy way everything was with you. nothing ever felt right unless you were there.
fuck.
maybe he was hopeless. maybe he’d been hopeless for a long time.
when you came back, arms full of two drinks even though he’d told you he didn’t want one, you handed him one with a proud little grin, like you’d done something important.
“got you one anyway,” you said, looking up at him with a smile that had his heart stuttering again.
he took the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, and for a second, neither of you pulled away.
“thanks, baby,” he said, his voice thick in a way that made your insides twist.
the two of you ended up sitting on the tailgate of his truck, away from the loudest parts of the bonfire, the firelight flickering over your face as you told him some story about losing your shoe at the mall earlier that week. he listened like it was the most important thing in the world, hanging on every word you said.
every laugh, every wide-eyed look you gave him, pulled him deeper under, like he didn’t even have a say in it.
at some point, you leaned your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. “dunno what i’d do without you, rafe,” you mumbled, half asleep, half dreamy.
he closed his eyes, resting his head against yours. “you’ll never have to find out, baby,” he whispered, too quiet for anyone but you to hear.
maybe you didn’t understand it fully yet—not the way he did, not all big and heavy and aching—but you felt it. you could feel it in the way you stayed close, in the way your hand found his without thinking.
rafe looked down at you, his heart thumping hard in his chest, and smiled.
i think i might be officially out of ideas 💔 there might be a second part continuing ditzy!reader’s date w rafe but other than that im all out. keep sending in requests my pretties!!