the party is loud, warm, a little messy — bodies everywhere, music bleeding into laughter, beer cans clinking against the concrete. rafe tried to act normal for maybe the first hour. tried being social. tried being charming.
then the alcohol hit him just right.
now he’s sitting on the floor between your legs, back pressed to your thighs like that’s the most natural place in the world. your knees frame his shoulders, your hands resting lazily on his chest while he leans into you, loose and heavy and completely unbothered by anyone watching.
he’s drunk-drunk. the clingy kind. the kind that forgets the room exists.
“baby,” he murmurs, head tilting back so he can look up at you, eyes glossy, smile soft and stupid and in love. “stay. don’t move.”
you laugh, fingers sliding into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. he hums at the touch immediately, eyes fluttering closed like a cat that just got exactly what it wanted.
someone walks by, says his name. rafe doesn’t even flinch.
you feel his hand find your knee, fingers curling possessively like he needs the reminder that you’re real, that you’re there, that you’re his. his thumb rubs absent little circles through the fabric of your pants, slow and comforting, not even trying to be subtle.
“you’re so warm,” he mumbles, pressing his cheek to your thigh. “this is better than standing.”
“you’re drunk,” you tease.
“mm,” he agrees easily. “drunk and married.”
that makes your chest ache — the way he says it like a fact, like a badge of honor. like nothing else in the room matters more than being yours.
your fingers trace the line of his jaw, thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. he catches it with his lips, kissing it softly before resting your hand against his cheek, grounding himself there.
the party keeps going. music gets louder. people get messier.
rafe doesn’t move.
he stays right there between your legs, head tipped back against you, breathing slow, trusting, clingy in the way only he gets when he’s had too much to drink and too much love for one body to hold.
random ramble about nba!rafe x shy!babydoll!reader during Christmas
a/n: inspired by smth that happened with my almost bf irl 😛 dw, I’ll post a birthday special and maybeee some recycled blurbs from my Christmas advent thing that I quit 😭😭
divider credits go to @dollywons
You’re on your tiptoes, standing on a small stool, trying to place the final ornament at the very top of the tree. Twinkling lights cast a warm glow over the room, making your cheeks look pinker than they really are.
Rafe steps behind you, hand resting lightly on your waist. “Need a lift?” he asks, his voice low, teasing.
You glance over your shoulder. “I can do it myself.”
“You can,” he says, smirking, “but I like holding you like this.”
Before you can argue, he’s gently scooping you up, supporting you until you can reach the star. Your fingers brush his chest as you steady yourself, and you swear your heart just skipped a beat.
“There,” you whisper, placing the star at the top.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, leaning closer than necessary. “Just like my doll.”
You freeze. “Rafe Alexander Cameron!”
“Mm?” His lips brush against your ear. “You like it when I say things like that, don’t you?”
You swat at him, laughing, but your knees feel weak. He grins, mischievous and proud, as he sets you back on the floor.
Later, you curl up on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa, the room smelling like pine and sugar cookies. Rafe wraps a blanket around both of you, fingers brushing your hands. The tree lights reflect in his eyes.
“Are you cold?” he asks softly.
“A little,” you admit, snuggling into him.
He leans down, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Good,” he whispers. “Because you’re not going anywhere.”
You can’t help it—your heart beats faster at the way he says it, warm and protective. You tilt your head, and he catches your lips in a soft, lingering kiss, just long enough to make you melt without saying a word.
Pulling back slightly, he grins, whispering, “Merry Christmas, doll.”
“Merry Christmas, Rafe,” you murmur, eyes sparkling like the lights around you.
pairing: richbf!rafe x spoiled!fem | wc: 1.3k~ | warning: nsfw
⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔
being a pogue was rough. you lived on the poor side of the island, and people automatically lumped you in with the usual troublemakers. even though you weren’t really that close to them, the label stuck. the lifestyle did too. and honestly? it never suited you. you weren’t built for pogue life. you were meant for big houses, nice things, and clothes that cost way too much.
your boyfriend knew that.
rafe made sure you never had to live like that. his girl wasn’t going without—ever. and yeah, part of it was him spoiling you, but part of it was definitely about how things looked.
because rafe couldn’t deal with his girlfriend not fitting the image.
dating a pogue was already something his friends wouldn’t shut up about. a few jokes went too far, a few people learned their lesson, but it still stuck in his head. he was a kook, and he liked it that way. appearances mattered.
so he bought you things. whatever you wanted, he got it. money wasn’t a problem, and spending it on you felt right. especially when you always made it worth his while. the little fashion shows after every shopping trip always had him watching with that familiar smirk, already thinking a few steps ahead.
your relationship had a bit of sugar to it. but you didn’t really mind. you got what you wanted. rafe did too.
“c’mon, do a spin,” he says, voice lazy as you stepped out of his walk-in closet. joint between his fingers, eyes glued to you. when you turned, he nodded, that crooked smile showing up again.
“yeah,” he mutters. “just like that, baby.”
his eyes drag over you, slow and intentional, catching on every little detail of the dress. they linger a second too long on your chest before he finally looks up, smirk already waiting.
he taps his thigh, lazy, expectant. a silent invitation.
“c’mere,” he says low, the smirk widening as he took another hit of the blunt. he blows the smoke off to the side, never breaking eye contact.
a rough chuckle leaves him when you settle onto his lap, his free hand instantly finding your waist. tight. possessive. “fuck,” he mutters. “you look good and that ass...”
he takes another slow drag, exhaling just close enough to make you squirm on purpose. his thumb trace lazy circles against your hip, fingers pressing in like he wanted to remember the shape of you.
“think this one’s my favorite so far.”
his smile shifts into something darker as he leans in, voice dropping.
“so,” he murmurs, “how’re you gonna thank me for it?”
“can’t you just stare at me?” you say, rolling your eyes as you lift the hem of your dress a little.
his grip tightens immediately, gaze darkening as he scoffs. “oh, trust me, baby,” he drawls, smoke leaving his lips as he leans in, mouth barely brushing your neck. “i’ve been staring since the second you walked out.”
“yeah, i noticed.” you giggle, kissing his cheek.
“i wasn’t that discreet, was i?” he murmurs playfully against your ear.
his hand lifts higher under your dress, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck. “rafe…”, you mumble faintly.
the joint hangs from the corner of his lip as he speaks, eyes watching you intently as he slowly pulls his hand higher. his fingers graze the soft lace underwear that was already soaked.
“please, i want you.” a plea falls from your lips, wanting more.
"mmm, do you now?" rafe chuckled darkly, his hand on your thigh squeezing it firmly. he tilted his head back, as he looked at you with a cocky smirk.
"is someone needy, huh? need my dick that badly, baby?" he teased, his other hand pulling you closer.
you nod, tugging at the waistband of his pants. “come on, you’re teasing me too much. i want it inside me, rafe, please.”
his breath hitches at your words, fingers digging into your hips as he lets out a sharp exhale. "fuck, alright," he mutters, voice thick with arousal.
"get on the bed," he orders roughly, eyes darkening. "now"
his hands move to his belt buckle, already undoing it with practiced ease, gaze locked onto you as he waits, looking at you already positioned after taking your clothes off.
he lets out a sharp breath at the sight of you—positioned just how he likes before finishing with his belt, shoving his pants down just enough.
his hands grip your hips again, pulling you closer to him. "such a fucking tease," he mutters under his breath, but there's no real annoyance in it, just hunger.
and then, with no more warning, he positions the head at your entrance and slides inside you, just like what you've been begging for.
a groan slips from his lips as he grips your hips tighter, leaning over you slightly. "fuck, baby," he rasps. "that pussy feels so good."
his breath comes out rough, uneven, as his hands roam down your back, fingers gripping your ass just enough to leave marks.
"you like that?" he growls, voice thick with satisfaction when he hears you moan again, thrusting with a rough, rapid pace.
he leans down, lips brushing against your shoulder as his thrusts slow for just a moment—just long enough to drag a rough chuckle from his chest.
"thought you were being all cute earlier," he murmurs, his rough fingertip rubbing your needy clit.
"this what you really wanted, hm my pretty girl?”
—
a/n: hi i’ve been away so longgg but like im back and also this is my first smut i wouldve made it longer if it wasnt 4am rn but yeah also happy new year 🩷
⊹ ࣪ ˖ AUTHOR'S NOTE ♥︎ it’s november already but i got this idea and wanted to write it!
── RED ROSE READER જ⁀➴ ♥︎ RAFE CAMERON
"are you sure you're okay with this?" you asked with your lips set in a small pout, your husband's face visible on your computer screen as you laid on the bed.
"of course. theo's just a kid, and it's important for you and rafe to have a healthy co-parenting relationship. part of it is both of you being there for important moments, and what's more important than trick or treating?" will smiled, "now… are you gonna show me your costume?" the man raised his brows suggestively, making you let out a soft laugh and roll your eyes.
you put on your cat ears, standing up and taking a few steps back away from your laptop, watching as your husband's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets, and you covered your mouth from embarrassment, feeling your cheeks warm.
"jesus fucking christ…" will took in a low breath and you rolled your eyes, "i feel so embarrassed." "babe, you're incredibly hot. do you have any idea what i'd do to you if i was home? turn around for me."
you turned around slowly, letting your husband get a good look at the skin-tight black full bodysuit, and as you turned around, will looked at you up and down with clear appreciation, letting out a low whistle. "you should wear that when i come home."
"yeah?" you laughed softly, flopping back down on the bed, "when's that?"
"i think we'll get the case wrapped up by wednesday. think we can celebrate halloween together belatedly? you can show me all your tricks and treats."
you burst into laughter, shaking your head, "jesus, you're the worst at sexual innuendos." you smiled, "i miss you."
"i miss you too." will sighed, leaning his head on his hands with a fond smile, the pupils of his eyes overtaking the blues, "you look gorgeous."
"i'll make sure to send some—"
your attempt at flirting was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell, followed by a high-pitched squeal coming from downstairs. "and that's rafe." you sighed, your lips now in a straight line, "i love you. call me tomorrow?"
"love you too, baby. have fun."
you could hear the elated squeal of your son even as you were walking down the stairs, "put me down, daddy!" you could hear theo screaming joyfully, "i won't! you wanted to be a superhero and superheroes fly!"
when you got to the doorway of the living room, you leaned your head on the arch with a small, fond smile on your lips, watching as rafe, dressed as batman, was holding your son, superman theo, up in the air as if he was flying.
when your son noticed you, his eyes lit up and he brought his fist forward like superman as rafe continued to make him fly, "look, mama, i'm flying!" you laughed, "i can see that, superman."
rafe walked over to you, placing theo down in front of you, "superman has arrived to his destination." rafe grinned, standing up straight. you could see him size you up in your costume with a look that resembled hunger, desire, but instead of commenting on it, rafe cleared his throat, turning to theo, "alright, superman, you ready to go get a basket full of candy?"
"yeah!" theo exclaimed, jumping up into the air. "mama, can you gimme krypto?" you chuckled softly, handing your son the white plush dog, the plushie wearing a cape you'd especially made for it, theo clutching it and cuddling it close to his chest.
theo was wandering way ahead of you two, his basket almost half-full of candy. you and rafe hadn't really said more than five words to another, and for some reason... there was an air of awkwardness surrounding you.
you cleared your throat, briefly looking to rafe before looking back at your son, "so, how's sofia?" you asked, trying to sound like saying that didn't feel like swallowing rusty nails.
"i wouldn't know." rafe shrugged, "i broke up with her." his statement made your head snap to face your ex-husband, your eyes wide, "what?" "yeah. you were right. dating theo's kindergarten teacher... it wasn't appropriate. i should've never started it. i'm sorry."
your eyes widened slightly. rafe... actually apologized for something he did, instead of acting like he could do no wrong. before you could question him on his reaction, though, you heard your son call out.
"mama! this house next!"
you let out a soft laugh, turning to rafe, "that house next, i guess."
once theo's basket was overflowing with candy, the three of you made your way to your home with theo's eyes already drooping, drool leaking onto rafe's shirt as he carried his son, softly stroking the back of the little boy's head in a way that made you swoon.
"is it okay if i put him down?" "of course. let me just..." you mumbled, pressing a kiss on top of the boy's head, "mama loves you, theo." a little "mmhmm." was the only response you got as the boy curled further into his father's chest.
rafe watched as theo let out soft mumbles as he laid in his race car bed, muscles twitching every now and then in his sleep. he smiled, brushing back some of his hair, before pressing a light kiss on theo's cheek.
when rafe walked down the stairs, he saw that you were sitting on the couch, now changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, a glass of wine nestled between your hands. as he got to the bottom of the steps, he noticed you'd placed a second glass next to the bottle.
"i can go." rafe swallowed, glancing at the wine glass, "if you want me to." "do whatever you want to do." you shrugged, taking a big sip out of your glass, "i was thinking we could sort some things out about theo, but if you don't want to, we don't have to."
rafe sighed, "if you want me to stay, you can just say that."
you swallowed, looking down at the wine glass on your lap, "fine. i want you to stay." you brought the glass to your lips, tilting your head back slightly to take a big sip, muttering, "i don't like being alone. the house is too big."
rafe sat down on the couch next to you, leaning forward to pour himself some wine before sitting back with a sigh. "why are you acting so weird?" you asked with a furrowed brow, making rafe chuckle, "like what?" "like a good guy."
"i, uh..." rafe pressed his eyes close, taking in a deep breath, "i started seeing a therapist." your eyes widened at the statement, and you turned to rafe "the fuck? are you... are you serious? you? therapy"
rafe laughed, "yeah." he took in a deep breath, "i want to be better. i want to be better for you and th-" before rafe could finish his sentence, you'd already connected your lips with his.
you moved to straddle his lap, rafe's hands finding themselves on your waist, calloused hands creeping up your back under your sweater, a grin suddenly appearing on his lips as he pulled back, squeezing your soft flesh, a string of saliva still connecting your lips, "no bra? i'm starting to think this was your plan all along."
"maybe it was." you whisper against his lips, shivers running up rafe's spine, "you're really trying to... better yourself?"
"yeah. wanna be better, for theo, for you..." rafe's lips pressed against your neck, your back arching into him, your head tilting back to give him better access to your body as you ground down on his thigh with a low breath, "rafe, i'm married..."
"we have a kid together." the man pushed up your sweater, lips trailing down to your breast, "marriage is just a piece of paper, baby. c'mon, don't tell me you haven't thought about us being together again..." rafe pressed a kiss on your nipple that made you let out a gasp, "we could give theo a proper family and shit..." he sucked the hard bud into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as he moved you back and forth on his thigh.
"rafe..." you threw your head back, grinding down on rafe's muscular thigh, his hands holding you by your waist, "fuck..." rafe's lips detached from your nipple, the man looking up at you with hazy blue eyes, "you're so fucking hot... nearly came in my pants when i saw you in that costume..."
your clit throbbed as you rocked yourself on your ex's thigh, "just think about it... us, in the same house, in the same bed..." you moaned as rafe's hold tightened on your hips, making you let out a gasp, "we could have another baby..."
"don't talk like that..." you moaned, "we're not good for each other..."
"we could be." rafe grunted, moving you on his thigh, the knot in your stomach tightening, "could be real good. we both know william doesn't make you feel as good as i do..."
"rafe..." you let out a whine, the pressure in your abdomen growing as rafe increased his pace, "fuck, rafe, i'm close!"
he grinned up at you, "yeah? gonna come for me? does will make you come this fast?"
"shut up..." you panted, grinding on him more fervently, "shut up, dumbass." rafe laughed softly, watching as your eyes rolled back in your head, revelling in it.
and finally, your pussy clenched around nothing, a high pitch leaving your lips, your brows knitting together, your nails biting into rafe's shoulder as he watched you come on his thigh, and somehow it made him feel better than when he comes; the look of pure pleasure on your face was enough to make him feel like he was the one experiencing all that.
rafe stopped moving, allowing you to come down from your high as you pressed your forehead to his shoulder, taking in deep breaths, his large hand stroking the back of your head. "you did so good." he mumbled, pressing a kiss on the side of your head, "did so good for me, baby."
a big beefy guy. loves cuddles. a goof. seems dumb most of the time. teen boy humour. classic golden retriever boy. usually in activewear. loves a gym mirror selfie. menace on the dance floor. belts out all of the words to fleetwood mac. loves stick insects. surprisingly emotionally intelligent. total mama's boy. constant backwards cap. prank wars are his love language. cried during how to train your dragon. physically incapable of whispering. says the friend zone doesn't apply to him. takes off his shirt to fix anything. has an emotional support hoodie.
he, does the little "pspspsps" noise to call animals… and sometimes you but you let him because you can hear him giggling to himself when he does.
he, loves science but isn't very good at the theory portion of it, has asked if frogs are considered a fish before.
he's, constantly asking “is this outfit okay?” and it’s literally just sweats and a tank top, it might be the huge biceps but he always looks good.
he, always needs to carry all the groceries in one trip, even if it’s cutting off circulation.
he, deeply believes he could survive in the wild with “just a knife and vibes," you'd beg to differ, he can't even handle gore and horror movies that are 'too messed up'.
Pairing: bf!rafe x fem!reader | Word count: ~1.7k | Warnings: suggestive tension
⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔
You hear the door before you see him—hinges bite, wood thuds the wall, and then Rafe fills the frame like he owns the place. Gray button up, rings flashing, hair pushed back the way he does when he’s annoyed.
“So that’s how we doin' it now?” he asks, voice low. “You just dip mid-sentence?”
You don’t look up from the kitchen counter. Your phone screen is a little too bright, the same text thread open and empty. “Didn’t feel like dealing with you.”
He laughs once, dry. “Cute. You throw a grenade and then clock out.”
You set the phone down and turn. “I said what I needrd to say.”
Rafe steps in, letting the door swing shut behind him. He tries to look like he’s unbothered but his jaw says otherwise. “You didn’t say anything. You ran.”
Heat crawls up your neck. You hate that he reads you so fast. “Maybe I’m tired of repeating myself.”
“Yeah?” He drifts toward the counter, his knuckles brushing the granite. “Try me again.”
You cross your arms. If you speak too quick you’ll say something nuclear, so you force the words out slow. “You don’t listen. You steamroll. And then you act like I’m crazy for not wanting to get bulldozed.”
He tilts his head. “I hear you just fine.”
“Do you?” You lift your chin. “Because five minutes ago you were flirting with a waitress while I was literally right there.”
“That’s what this is?” His mouth twitches. “You jealous?”
“I’m not jealous.” The lie clings to your tongue. You can feel the heat of your pulse in your wrist.
Rafe clocks it. His gaze drops to your hand, then back up. A lazy, mean little smile. “Yeah. Okay.”
You roll your eyes. “You love this. You love poking until I snap.”
“Nah.” He leans in, palms braced on the counter, caging you without touching. He smells like beer and cologne you hate admitting you like. “I like when you stop dodging.”
“My truth is you’re exhausting.”
“Funny.” His voice goes quiet. “You don’t look tired.”
You hold his stare longer than you should. His eyes are sharp when he’s like focused, hungry, like he’s already a step past the argument and into something else. It sparks something hot in your stomach. You hate it. You want it.
“Let go of this,” you say. “It’s not that deep.”
He hums. “To you maybe.”
You snort. “To you it’s a sport.”
“Everything’s a sport,” he says lightly, but there’s weight under it. “I just play to win.”
“Win what?”
He doesn’t blink. “You.”
That lands too direct. You feel it in your knees. You wish he’d joke so you could bite back. Instead you go still, because the word sits between you like a dare. Your heartbeat is a drum in your throat.
“You don’t get to—” you start.
“Say it?” A ghost of a grin. “Then say it back. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Silence stretches. The fridge hums. Your phone buzzes once on the counter—someone replying to a story, the screen flashing a name Rafe doesn’t like. You see his eyes flick down, then up, cold amusement warming into something proprietary.
“Cute,” he says. “He still trying?”
“Don’t,” you warn. “Don’t do that thing where you act like you’re above it.”
He taps the phone with one finger, lazy. “Block him.”
“Not your call.”
“Then mine.” He looks at you like the sun narrowed to a slit. “You’re in my kitchen, wearing my hoodie, telling me I don’t listen. And some clown’s name is lighting up your phone. Pick a lane.”
Your body buzzes with equal parts fury and want. “You don’t get to claim me because your closet is big.”
His mouth curves. “I get to claim you because you let me.”
You hate that your breath catches. “You are so—”
“Say it.”
“—annoying.”
He laughs, really laughs this time. The edge dulls half a degree. He steps in. “You done?”
“No.”
“Cool.” He’s close enough that you feel the heat of him along your bare legs. He watches your mouth like he’s deciding whether to take it. “Because I’m done pretending I didn’t notice you staring at me all night.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” he says, soft, almost kind. “And you’re doing it now.”
You are.
He lets it sit. One beat. Two. Then his hand skims your jaw, thumb finding the corner of your mouth like a practiced map. Your eyes flutter and you hate that he knows it. He drags his thumb across your lip like a promise.
“Last shot,” he murmurs. “Tell me to back off.”
You don’t. You tip your chin instead, the smallest angle. That’s enough.
The kiss hits hot. Not careful, not sweet—hungry. He tastes like mint and beer and something a little mean. His palm slides to your throat, pressure just enough to claim, not enough to cage. Your hands fist in his shirt before you know you’ve moved, dragging him closer. He groans when your mouth opens, a low wrecking thing that makes your knees go loose.
He breaks once to breathe, forehead against yours, laughter ghosting your lips. “Knew you’d fold.”
“Shut up,” you whisper, and he does—mouth back on yours, deeper now. His hands map their way down your back, bunching the borrowed hoodie at your hips. Heat flares, messy and bright. Every time you try to pull away, he chases, coaxing, relentless.
You push at him, not really meaning it. “Someone could—”
“Ain’t nobody here,” he says into your mouth. “S’just us.”
You want to argue but your body is already answering for you. He drags you off the counter, backs you to the hallway wall, crowding your space like it’s his. Your head tips back, the drywall cool against your hair. He kisses you like he’s staking ground—slow now, possessive, his thumb under your chin keeping you open for him. You feel claimed and it makes your spine light up.
“Rafe,” you breathe.
“Mm?”
“This doesn’t fix anything.”
He smiles against your jaw. “Didn’t say it did.”
You close your eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah, baby,” he says softly, a contrast to the grip at your waist. “But you like me like that.”
You slide your hand to his throat like you might shove him, but you don’t. You just hold him there and kiss him longer, deeper, until you have to break for air.
He studies you, pupils blown. “We good?”
You search his face for the trap. “We’re… quieter.”
“That all you need tonight,” he says, smug but gentle. He kisses the edge of your mouth like punctuation. “We can argue again tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere.”
You snort. “That supposed to be comforting?”
He grins. “Nah. It’s supposed to make you crazy.”
You shove him lightly and step past, heart still sprinting. “Get out of my kitchen.”
He slaps your ass as you pass, playful, owning it. “Make me coffee and I’ll think about not texting the waitress back.”
You turn at that, brows up.
He’s already smirking. “Relax. You know I’m not stupid.”
You try not to smile. Fail a little. His lips pressing against the side of your neck.
–
a/n: againnn I hope this was good 😔 anyway I figured out how to do gradient and all 😛
Pairing: frat!rafe x fem!reader | Word count: ~1.1k
⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔
The Cameron mansion is chaos. Music too loud, people spilling drinks, fake blood on the marble floors. It smells like liquor and smoke. You shouldn’t be here, but here you are.
He spots you almost immediately. Rafe’s standing near the stairs with a half-empty glass in one hand and that stupid Purge mask hanging from the other. His shirt’s unbuttoned just enough to prove he doesn’t care anymore. He looks good and he knows it.
When you catch his eye, he grins—lazy, uneven—and you can tell he’s clocked the costume. Black bodysuit, satin ears, heels you already regret wearing. A few heads turn when you pass, but it’s his stare that sticks.
Then he’s moving toward you, pushing through the crowd like it’s nothing.
“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” he says. His voice is rougher than usual, a little slurred at the edges.
“You sound surprised,” you answer.
“I’m drunk, not surprised.” He takes another sip, eyes still on you. “You look good, though. For someone pretending they don’t want to be here.”
You roll your eyes. “You always talk like that when you’ve been drinking?”
“Worse,” he says, smiling. “You should hear me later.”
Someone bumps into you and his hand catches your arm, steadying you before you spill your drink. He doesn’t move it right away. The bass from the speakers rattles the floor under your feet.
“Careful,” he says, quieter now. “Wouldn’t want you falling for me or something.”
“You’re hilarious,” you mutter.
“I know.” He grins wider. “Come upstairs.”
You hesitate, but he’s already heading for the stairs, looking back just once to make sure you follow. You do.
Upstairs, the noise fades a little. The hallway lights flicker red. Rafe kicks open a door, lets you walk in first, then shuts it behind you. The sudden quiet feels too big.
He drops the mask onto the dresser and leans against it, still watching you. “You’re not scared of me, are you?” he asks.
“Should I be?”
He shrugs, a crooked smile playing at his mouth. “Maybe. Depends on the night.”
He steps closer. You can smell the bourbon on his breath, see the faint flush on his cheeks. His gaze flicks between your eyes and your mouth like he’s debating something but already knows the answer.
“You always do that,” you say.
“Do what?”
“Stare.”
“Can’t help it,” he says, voice low. “You make it too easy.”
Before you can think of something smart to say, he’s close enough that the edge of his sleeve brushes yours. The music downstairs swells for a moment, muffled through the walls, and then he leans in. The kiss happens fast—confident, a little rough, exactly how he looks. He tastes like bourbon and mint.
When he pulls back, he’s still smiling. “Told you the party was better up here.”
You shake your head, trying not to smile back. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” he says, reaching past you for the glass he left on the dresser. “But you’re still here.”
—
a/n: this is my first ever post, im so sorry that it came out basic af 💔 ill try harder next time 😔
