Rafe with a breeding kink, soft dom Rafe, heavyset reader (they have low self esteem ?) and Rafe just wants to show her she’s beautiful no matter what size she is?! If not that’s okay, I’m obsessed with your reading !
Warnings: breeding kink, dom!rafe, talk of self-hate, smut, language, name calling, unprotected sex, choking kink, hair pulling kink, biting
A/n: thank you so much! I love hearing all the things you guys say about my writing, warms my heart 🫶 That being said.. I’m gonna be posting a little blurb today with some smut in it 😉 make sure to check it out, and keep these requests coming!
“Rafe- I- I just don’t feel sexy. I feel gross, and I don’t want you to see me naked” you were currently sitting on the bed wearing a towel.
“Baby. Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that. Your gorgeous!” Rafe was kneeling between your legs and he cupped your face as he spoke to you.
He wiped your tears with the pads of his thumb “I think I need to show you just how beautiful I think you are..” he kissed you and while you were distracted he peeled the towel off your body. He slammed you back into the bed all while keeping his lips connected to yours.
He hovered over you, his bare chest nudging your nipples and turning them rock solid, his member was hardened and pressing against his sweats and to your core.
“Rafe” you huffed out in between kisses. His hand wrapped around your throat, gently, “sh, tonight’s about you” he went back to kissing you. His hand gripped your throat a little harsher and you moaned, which he swallowed with his kisses.
“Now I think you may have been a bad girl.. talking down on yourself. Tsk tsk tsk, I need to punish you” he whispered against your lips as his forehead rested on yours and his eyes grew itch lust.
“Ra-“ he shut you up by gripping your throat a little rougher, causing a gasp to escape your lips.
“I told you to be quiet, did I not?” He asked as he cocked an eyebrow at you. You knew better then to speak, you nodded your head and he quickly had to hide his smile.
Rafe always tried to be dominate in bed, and it would work, but he had a soft spot for you and would always end up going a little softer on you.
“Good girl” he said releasing your throat he stood up and took off his sweats, he never bothered wearing boxers so his cock sprung up as soon as he pulled the material down.
You couldn’t help the wetness pooling the sheets below you, all thoughts of earlier gone.
“Now lay back and grab the back of your knees, pull them up. There you go, nice and spread out for me” he said as he watched you obey orders and softly stroked his cock.
“Fuck, your so sexy” he mumbled as he walked over to you and teasingly swiped your clit
Your back arched at the contact and wiggled around.
“Don’t make me tie you up” he warned, but that threat just got you wetter.
“Oh you like that” he mocked you as he rubbed your clit
“Dirty little slut, you like the idea of being tied up and fucked?” He said rubbing faster now.
“Rafe!” You moaned out as your orgasm was approaching.
He removed his hand and smacked your pussy, gently, but enough to make you hiss out. “Oh I’m sorry baby, did that hurt?” He quickly stopped his act and rushed to your side.
“No Rafe, I liked it” you said smirking at him. He grinned and got back to work.
He did it once again and you moaned. “I told you I’d punish you” he said “now keep holding yourself nice and spread out for me”
He got to his knees and you felt his breath against your inner thighs, automatically your body covered in goosebumps. “Such a pretty pussy” Rafe spiked to himself.
You obeyed him and held your thighs up as his tongue farted out and licked a strip of your arousal, swirling his tongue on your clit and wrapping his lips around it, sucking and flicking.
You moaned out as you threw your head back and gripped the skin of your legs tighter, trying not to wiggle or move around. “Rafe! Fuck!” You moaned as you reached the edge of release.
He pulled back and whipped his mouth, licking his lips. “Rafe! Fu- why?” You whined.
As you whined he stood up and aligned himself to your entrance and pushed in “oh!” You moaned as you left your legs fall and wrapped around him.
“Fuck” he gritted out as he bottomed out and started thrusting at a fast speed.
He leaned down and propped himself on his elbows so he could be face to face with you.
His hips moving at a sensual pace, he rested his forehead on yours and looked into your eyes.
“I love you. You’re perfect, you’re beautiful and I love you” he kissed you “I don’t ever want to hear you talking bad about yourself, you’re mine and I love you baby” he twisted his hips in a way that made you moaned out in a cry as pleasure washed over you, his sweet words adding to it.
“Fuck rafe, I love you too.”
“Where do you want me baby?”
“Shit-“ you wrapped your legs around his butt and pushed him further in “in me”
He lifted his eyebrow as he grinned. “You want a baby y/n? Want me to fill that pretty belly of yours with my cum, make you a mommy?” He asked as his thrusts became harsher.
“Y-y-yes!” You screamed out as your orgasm washed over you “oh fuck!” Rafe followed right after you
You felt his cum leak down the sides of your thighs as he slowed down his thrusts. “I’m not moving until your womb sucks up every last drop, and then I’m gonna fuck you again”
summary: rafe comes home exhausted after a shitty day at work, you comfort him, one kiss turns into another, and lots of needy couch sex.
word count: 1.9k+
content warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, exhaustion, stress, smut: pinv (unprotected), strong sexual language, nudity, breast play, soft sex, hair pulling, not proofread.
author’s note: wish that was me … sigh. hope you enjoy bby’s!!
“Baby?”
The front door swung open, sending a gust of wind into the first floor of your house. You felt it brush the hair from your shoulders, followed by the heavy clamber of his footsteps over the ageing floorboards.
You could tell he’d had a bad day.
His voice was strained and hoarse. The top button of his shirt was undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck because he’d been yanking at it since breakfast. Faint little blotches of red dotted along the sides of his neck where his ironed collar had been rubbing it raw all day.
He was still kicking off his shoes, a stack of paperwork tucked carelessly beneath one arm, when you reached him.
You noticed the way his buzzed hair looked somehow tussled, like he’d had a headache and tried to divert his pain by tugging at his roots, and the crease between his brows that only formed when he was stressed had appeared.
You met him halfway on his path to find you. Your mind racing with what could’ve upset him but you didn’t say anything. Not yet. Just wrapped your arms around his middle and he melted almost immediately. He let his head drop into the crook of your neck with a little hum, his arms curling around your waist as you scratched gently up and down his back like maybe you could soothe whatever part of him was hurting.
“Are you okay?” you muttered, your head tilting to the right to take in his expression. He didn’t bother to come up with a lie. You already knew that he’d been working ridiculous hours lately, first one in and last one out of the office these days.
He didn’t answer right away, too tired to speak. He just nodded, squeezing you tighter.
Your fingers found the back of his head, softly scratching the short hair at the nape of his neck. His grip on your body relaxing as he drew back to look at your face. You met his gaze gently, a shiver rolling up your body now that there was room for air between you both. Your movements stayed slow and deliberate, your touch soft as you brushed your fingers along the side of his face.
“You wanna sit down?” you whispered. Your fingers lowered to cradle his cheeks, thumbs tracing invisible shapes. You didn’t need a response. You knew him too well for that.
You took his hand, leading him into the next room.
The curtains were still open, letting the last of the evening light spill across the room. You shut them while he wandered over to the couch, joining him once you’d switched on the lamps.
A TV show drifts in and out of your hearing as you shift on the couch, eyes sliding toward the kitchen and the pile of things you’d abandoned the second Rafe walked through the door. Quiet stretches between you both. He’s rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to physically shake the day off, one large hand dragging over his eyes.
He turns towards you and says your name slowly, your head snapping towards the sound of his voice.
“You okay?” he asks, voice rough and looking at you through half-closed lashes.
You blink, soft confusion and something far warmer flooding your face. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you fine?” A quiet laugh slips out as you inch closer until you’re halfway in his lap.
“C’mere.” He mumbles, pulling you the rest of the way, settling you properly so that you’re straddling him. A soft yawn breaks across his face as his hands steady themselves on your hips. “Mhm… yeah. Had a shit day.”
“Talk to me about it.” you say, hands resting lightly on his shoulders.
He looks at you for a long second, then leans in and gives you a quiet almost careful kiss. When you pull back you’re still close, noses brushing, forehead to forehead. You’re so close that you’re sharing each other’s air and he stays there, breathing you in.
“Later,” he murmurs. “Right now I just… need this.”
You kiss him again, slower this time. One of his hands slides up your back, warm under your shirt, palm flat against your skin like he’s grounding himself. The kiss deepens. When his lips part under yours he makes a low sound in his throat that you feel more than you can hear.
You shift a little, meaning only to take the weight off him after the long day. His hands lock on your hips immediately, fingers digging in just enough to still you.
“Stay,” he says against your mouth, voice still hoarse. “I want you right here. Don’t move.”
You freeze. He keeps you there, thumbs stroking soft circles into the soft give of your sides, and rolls his hips up once—a controlled drag of the hard line of his cock against you. The friction pulls a soft sound out of both of you.
“I thought you were tired,” you whisper, a small smug smile tugging on your mouth.
“I am.” He does it again, slower, watching your face the whole time. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”
Then he sits up fully.
Chest flush to yours. Chin resting against the upper curve of your breasts so he can tip his face up to look at you while he keeps rocking into you in small, careful rolls of his hips. His eyes are darker now, the crease between his eyebrows still there but softer, but focused entirely on you. Warm breath fans against your skin through your top.
“I need you,” he says certain. His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, palms spanning your waist, then higher, mapping the shape of you. “I need to feel you.”
You answer by rolling your hips once, letting him feel every inch of the friction. His head drops forward for a second, forehead pressing to your chest as a broken sound leaves him, before he tips back up and kisses you again. Deeper this time and more desperate.
Your hands go to the buttons of his shirt. One by one. Pushing the fabric open so you can feel the warm skin of his chest, the faint sheen of his exhaustion still on him. He helps you shrug it off without breaking the kiss, then his fingers are under your top again. You lift your arms and he pulls it over your head, tossing it aside. Cool air touches your bare skin for only a second before his hands are back and cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they tighten. He makes a soft, almost pained sound at the sight of you, then leans in and takes one nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking and sucking gently.
You arch into it, fingers sliding into the short hair at the back of his head, holding him there. The wet heat of his mouth and the soft scrape of teeth against your skin goes straight through you. When he switches to the other breast you rock down harder against him and he groans, the sound vibrating against your middle.
His hands drop to the waistband of your bottoms. He tugs and you lift just enough for him to work them down over your hips along with your underwear. Cool air hits you again, then the heat of his palms as he smoothes them up the bare skin of your thighs. You can feel how wet you already are before his fingers brush between your legs, sliding through the slickness there. He presses two fingers against your entrance, circling slowly without pushing in yet.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your chest. “You’re so wet for me already.”
You reach for him, undoing his belt, the button, the zipper. He lifts his hips to help you push everything down far enough to free him. His cock springs free, hard and already leaking at the tip. You wrap your hand around him, stroking once from base to tip, spreading the wetness, and he shudders hard beneath you, forehead dropping to your shoulder as a long, shaky groan leaves him.
You guide him to your entrance. The blunt head of him presses against you and you sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch, feeling yourself stretch around the thick length of him. He holds completely still except for the fine tremor in his thighs, breath coming in short, harsh pants against your neck. When you finally seat yourself fully, hips flush to his, he makes a sound like he’s been punched, low and guttural at the back of his throat.
“God—” you moan as his hands grip your hips, holding you there, not letting you move yet.
“Just—stay like this a second,” he says, voice strained. “Wanna feel you.”
You nod, staying still, feeling the way he pulses inside of you, the way your body clenches around him in answer. Then you roll your hips in a slow circle and he breaks. Raw, open-mouthed sounds tearing out of him. His chin stays against your breast, eyes looking up at you through his lashes while you start to move. Lifting and sinking in a steady rhythm. Every time you sink down he meets you with a short upward thrust, the sticky sound of it filling up the entire room.
His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer so your chests are pressed together, skin to skin. The new angle lets him go deeper and you feel every ridge of him dragging inside you. His mouth finds yours again, kissing you messy and open while he moves with you. Little mewls and breathless curses escaping you when the head of his cock rubs that perfect spot inside on every downward stroke.
You pick up the pace gradually. He matches it, one hand sliding down to grip the back of your thigh, guiding your movements, the other staying between your bodies so his thumb can find your clit and rub slow, tight circles. The dual sensation makes your thighs shake. Your forehead dropping to his.
“Harder, baby,” he says again, voice cracking a little on the words, hips snapping up harder now. “Tell me what you need.”
“That—yes—” you gasp, rocking into him faster, chasing it. “I’m close—”
“That’s it,” he murmurs breathlessly. “I’ve got you. Let go.”
His thumb presses firmer, circling faster and the coil in your belly tightens fast. When it breaks it pulls a long, shaking moan out of you. Your walls clench around him in rhythmic pulses, whole body locking up as the orgasm hits, eyes fluttering, mouth falling open. While you grab at every part of him you can reach.
He follows almost immediately, his hand flexing and fisting in your hair, the motion of his hips stuttering as his brows pinch together. Another loud groan leaves him as he comes inside you, arms wrapping tight around your waist as if to keep you from floating off.
You stay like that afterward, still joined, while both of you catch your breath. The air hot and sticky between you. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your breast, then tips his face up to look at you again, eyes softer now.
“Stay,” he says. “Just like this a little longer.”
“Okay,” you whisper. “Do you feel better now?” a giggle comes out of you on top of him, it comes out softer than expected, all the punch knocked out of you.
He huffs a quiet laugh against your mouth. “Yeah. I feel pretty good now.”
Your arms loop around his neck and hold tightly, your shoulders moving up and down as weak and tired little laughs escape your throat.
18+ mdni. drug use, graphic smut, 69 position, oral(f!receiving), squirting. | MASTERLIST HERE
ㅤㅤrafe cameron sprawls across the bed, shirt already off, abs catching the low light lamp. his jeans low on hips—showing a peek of his veiny v-line.
hes got that look on his face, the lazy half smirk, like he knows what youre thinking about. and hes already bored of waiting for you to do something about it.
“you gonna stand there all night or what?” he tilts his chin, watching you through that half lidded eyes. one thick arm ducked behind his head. white powder maps out the hard ridges of his stomach.
you move, hovering on top of him. your face met with the sight of his abs covered in lined powders, knees on the mattress. while hes met with the sight of your plump ass and clothed cunt from behind. unfortunately, the only fabric separating is your shorts. youre not wearing underwear on purpose cause you forgot.
“y’know what to do.” the roll of a hundred dollar bill rests between his fingers. he doesnt hand it to you. he makes you take it.
you take the bill between his fingers, skin brushing. your teeth gritting nervously.
“attagirl.” he settles deeper into the pillow. “make it count.”
you lean over him, bending even more. one hand braced on his abs. his skin is hot, with a faint sheen of sweat.
his warm breath and nose brushing against your pussy. you bit your lower lip.
without looking back, you know damn well hes staring at you so intensely and heavily. so, you hesitate a bit.
you finally pull the bill to your nose and take the line in one sharp pull. the burn hits the back of your throat sharply. you gasp against his skin, almost coughing.
his massive hand lands at the back of your head. fingers twisting into your hair, yanking you backward. hes so commanding when it came to his weird fantasies, but you let him. cause, youre as of a freak as he is.
the coke hits you in a slow wave. you can feel everything. the pulse of his blood under your palm, tight tension in his thighs, and the way his chest rises and falls.
his other fingers tease your puffy folds, going up and down the line. circling your clit just barely. you clenched at nothing, how desperate.
“rafe, stop teasi—”
“did i tell you to speak?” a spank lands on your right cheek, you jolt. your ass jiggling at the movement. rafe watches it like its the hottest thing hes ever seen.
tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. you put your face down on his abs, cheeks sticking to the leftover powder.
rafe continues kneading the fat of your ass. he palms the back of your thigh, spreading you wide. letting out a low whistle when he saw a visible damp spot on your cunt. “so fuckin’ needy.”
he drags you down onto his face until youre grinding against his wet lips, biting. though, not hard enough to hurt. your moan is muffled by his abs when you went to the second rail.
“keep going.” hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. tugging them upward, to see the way your shorts stretch around your cunt and your ass. “shorts, no panties. you been thinkin’ bout it, huh.”
he took them down, quickly licking a slow stripe right up your slick heat.
your nose drags across the third rail, his abs flex under you. fat cock leaking hard inside his pants. your eyes almost rolled when he licks your pussy.
the third rail vanishes in one burning pull. your heart slammed against your ribs. suddenly, everything felt brighter.
you trace your fingers further to the blue veins on his v-line, hundred dollar bill resting on your hand long forgotten.
rafe trails his lips along your pussy. then, latching his lips onto your folds. giving them a one firm suck.
his tongue drags flat from your entrance all the way up. he laps, circles your clit with the tip. sucking it between his lips again and holding it for seconds. your knees shake.
“keep snorting, baby.” mouth still buried in you. “and when youre done, you gonna come all over my face while i watch you drip.” tongue curls inside you, he groaned.
his hands wrap around your hips, pulling you down harder, fucking your cunt against his mouth. you squirm.
“quit squirmin’.” he slaps your pussy lightly. the sting makes your cunt throb and get wetter.
he pushes three thick fingers inside your velvety wall. both of your eyes are rolled back, it feels so good. his fingers stretching your cunt in every way. “mhmm.. rafe—”
you grind your ass onto his face, chasing more pleasure. he crooks his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. groaning low against your clit every time you clenched around him.
rafe spat onto your folds, thick glob landing wet and warm. “what a tight pussy,” he works his tongue again. practically making out with your pussy, as his fingers sinking more deep.
“oh, fuck—rafe!”
he curls his thick fingers hard, hitting that spot. you sob his name into his abs, moving your hips in rhythm and press down to his face.
“please, im gonna—”
“cum?” he laughs against you. the vibration making your thighs shake. “do it. cum on my face, soak my tongue.”
and then his fingers crook up harder, mouth closes over your clit and sucks. your whole body seizes, moans come louder and lips forming in a ‘o’ shape.
it floods out of you in a hot gush. soaking his chin, lips, and drips down to his broad chest. your thighs trembling, clamping his head shut. bed sheet wet.
"holy shit," voice muffled between your thighs.
he doesnt move, still keeping his mouth on you. he laps the slick juices coming from you, almost drinking it.
rafe pulls his face away, leaning back into the pillow. “thats so fucking hot.”
He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Every time you leave, I’ll find a way to get you.” He murmurs, referring to your apartment’s door that he broke to get in.
“You can’t keep doing this, i told you—“
His eyes flash with dark amusement as you grip the towel tighter. He likes that you're trying to protect yourself—trying to maintain some control. It only makes him want to dismantle it all the more. “Cute.” He chuckles lowly, his hand reaching out to slowly pry the towel from your grip. “But pointless.”
“Hey!”
He silences you with a sharp look, his hand finally succeeding in pulling the towel away. You're left standing there naked, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest to cover yourself. He tosses the towel aside carelessly. “Shh.”
His eyes roam over your body unabashedly—you're completely naked now, exposed in your own home. The contrast of power is obvious—you're vulnerable, and he knows just what buttons to press to keep you compliant. “Turn around.” He orders suddenly, his voice firm. “Face the wall.”
You murmur his name in objection, trying to reason with him, but he cuts you off.
His eyes darken with warning. “I said turn around.” He repeats slowly, his voice dropping into that dangerous register—like he's no longer the nice man he pretended, just your stalker. The room suddenly feels smaller, colder, suffocatingly cramped. Your heart pounds—you've never seen him like this before. So, you turn around slowly.
He watches you, his eyes scanning over your naked back—your sore shoulders, the bruises on your hips from earlier, your trembling legs. “Good girl.” He approaches you from behind, pressing his chest against your back, one hand sliding up your spine while the other grips your hip tightly.
His breath is hot against your neck as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Keep your hands on the wall.” He instructs, his voice low and commanding. You nod weakly, pressing your hands against the wall to stabilize yourself. His fingers dig into your hips possessively, making your breath hitch. He stays like that for a moment, just pressing against you—his hard chest against your bare back, his fingers digging into your skin. Then, without warning, he spreads your legs roughly with his knee.
You stagger slightly, your legs forced apart, leaving you completely exposed to him. He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck—right where your pulse is pounding visibly. “You look so pretty like this.” His voice is dark, possessive. His hand slides down your side, over your curves, mapping out every inch of your naked body like he's claiming territory.
You say his name, as sternly as your voice allows. “I’m being serious. Please, just stop this and leave…” You attempt to turn around.
His grip on your hip tightens painfully as you try to turn around, holding you in place. His other hand moves to your throat, applying gentle pressure—warning you without actually choking you. “I said keep your hands on the wall.” His voice is rough, against your ear. You do as he says, begrudgingly.
He watches your reluctant compliance, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. He likes that you're doing what he says—even if you're doing it begrudgingly. It's a small victory for him. Cause he knows he’ll break all your inhibitions down bit by bit, till you realize you’re his. “Atta girl.” He murmurs, his thumb tracing along your jawline. He leans down, pressing his lips against your shoulder
Your blood runs cold and impossibly hot at his words and actions. Because he just won’t let it go. He had a taste of you and now he simply can’t fathom the idea of not having you again, over and over, all to himself.
His lips curve into a satisfied smirk against your skin. He presses his nose to the curve of your neck, your damp hair, and breathes you in. He squeezes your breast possessively before sliding his hand down your stomach, towards your hip.
His fingers splay out over your hip bone, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. He pauses, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You're mine to do with as I please. Mine to protect. Mine to cherish. Mine to fuck.”
“You know that’s not true. I’m not yours, you’re insane–“
His hand slams over your mouth, muffling your protests. His other hand pushes between your legs, thrusting two fingers inside you roughly without warning. You gasp against his palm, your body clenching around his fingers. “I didn’t wanna have to do this, baby… but you leave me no choice…” He says vaguely.
You frown in confusion, a muffled “what” leaving your lips, but your thought trail is cut off when his thumb moves faster over your swollen clit.
His fingers curl inside you deliberately, hitting that spot that made you scream earlier. He leans close, his lips brushing your ear. “You keep telling me I'm insane… keep pushing me away…” His thumb rubs your clit, spreading your slickness. “Every time you say 'no'… every time you try to leave…” His fingers move faster, relentless.
“It makes me wanna prove you wrong.” He murmurs darkly against your neck, his fingers pistoning in and out of you. “Makes me wanna show you who you belong to. Maybe if I fuck you enough times… you'll remember who owns this pretty little pussy… maybe i’ll finally slither my way under your skin like you did mine.”
His words are a blur as his fingers work you towards the edge, playing your body so well like he owns and knows every crevice. You tremble in his arms, head thrown back on his chest. “No no no no…” You whimper.
His fingers don't stop. They push you closer, relentless. He leans down, whispering against your ear as you tremble. “No no no...” He repeats mockingly. “All you do is lie… your pussy tells me the truth. Let her do the talking” His fingers curl and thrust, hitting that spot with perfect precision. “You're so close, aren't you?”
Your body betrays you completely—your back arching, your breathing becoming ragged as the pressure builds dangerously fast. The combination of his hot breath on your skin, his rough grip on your hip, and those relentless fingers working inside you relentlessly. Your walls clench. “That's it...” Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing in his arms. He doesn't let up, his fingers continuing to move inside you through the waves of pleasure. He swallows your muffled cries with his hand still covering your mouth. “There it is...”
You’re so caught up in the aftermath of your orgasm, you barely notice his hand moving away from your mouth. You don’t even notice the needle he pulls out. You feel a sharp prick on your neck, followed by a warm sensation spreading through your veins. The room starts to spin as the sedative takes effect. You try to struggle but your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. He holds you close, his voice low and soothing. “Shh...”
“What did you do…” it comes out weak, barely above a whisper.
“Had to. You keep fighting me... keep trying to leave.” His voice is calm, almost sadistic in its serenity. “This way... you'll stay. You'll be good. You’ll learn to be.” He nuzzles his face against your neck, inhaling deeply. He kisses your neck softly where he injected the sedative, his arms wrapping around you possessively.
It’s the last thing you feel before everything goes black.
summary: reeling after your date with Rafe Cameron, you're swiftly reminded that real life is not a love story & you have what should be an easy breezy day out... but you somehow end up on a date with Topper??
pairing: best friend's brother rafe x fem!reader
previous part next part
words: 4.2k
a/n: damn if you're still here thank you so much & I'm so sorry it took so long. Writer block has made me hate this one but think it's v needed for background & knowing kook girlies mindset. Get ready for some Pogues in the next one...
On your way home you felt like you were floating - head in the clouds, dumbstruck smile glued to your face, kind of happy that you know your friends would tease you for but honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours and the warm tingly feeling they left behind. Your skin felt scorched from where his hands had travelled, branding you as his own. But you weren’t his, he had kissed you like you were, held you like you were and damn did you want to be but it was too fast, too much. Last week he was just Sarah’s brother and now you were imagining walking into parties together hand in hand, him introducing you to his colleagues as his girlfriend – yeah, you needed to calm down. It was one date, one kiss… one make-out, it did not mean a relationship. You didn’t even usually kiss guys on the first date – your go-to was to leave them hanging a little, leave them wondering and craving but then he leaned in. You just couldn’t help it - you had Rafe Cameron in all his 6-foot, tanned, sculpted glory at your fingertips, you couldn’t not reach out.
Although, it could get messy – Sarah’s face flashes across your mind as you remember how she looked as you walked away from her, towards her brother instead. Messy was putting it lightly. Still, you let yourself revel in the post-date glow, you can worry about the rest of it tomorrow when you get an onslaught of texts from your friends asking about it but now, now you want to linger in it.
That doesn’t last long.
You pull your car into your usual spot on the driveway, darkness draping over your house like it’s been tucked into bed. With every step you take, lights flash on, guiding you to your front door where you can already hear the yelling. Your post-date bubble is swiftly popped as you crash back onto earth and let your head fall forward onto the door. Your parent’s voices reverberate through the wood, crashing into the walls of your home, painting them in anger and bitterness. With a sigh you straighten yourself out and unlock the door, stepping in softly in the hopes that you can go unnoticed. For once the yelling works in your favour as they are too caught up in themselves to notice you, so you dart up the stairs and seek sanctuary in your room, thankful that your little brother was at a sleepover. The yelling is the soundtrack for you as you get ready for bed and it quietens before you drift off to a restless sleep.
The shouts of your parents echo in your dreams, reminding you of what’s real – relationships aren’t dates on yachts, searing kisses at sunset and holding hands on the beach. They’re love turned bitter and cold, one full of quiet resentment, secrets and faux smiles. But that can only last so long- money and reputation can only outweigh the sour taste of betrayal for so long and as their fights get louder and more frequent the rest of Figure Eight are bound to find out the truth about the ‘perfect kook family’ sooner or later.
The next day your phone was going off nonstop, the girls group chat pinging off questions about your date with Rafe, you answered most, leaving only some of the details out. You could basically hear their shock and confusion in their messages by how sweet Rafe had been – to them he was Sarah’s intimidating, sometimes scary, older brother, sweetness wasn’t synonymous with Rafe Cameron, at least not to them. You keep to yourself, cocooning yourself in your room for most of the day and only sneaking out to get snacks – your balcony keeps you from going stir crazy. The air of the house too suffocating and stagnant with unasked questions and false pretences to live in, but your mood was too low to leave the house completely. You needed a day to settle and recover, you were usually pretty good at playing dress up and putting on a pretty, fake smile but today you were just too tired.
By Monday you’re feeling better, your parents are already gone by the time you wake up and the summer sun is sparkling in through the gap in your curtains. You leisurely make yourself breakfast and lounge on your couch with no plans for the day when your front door swings open, making your stomach drop.
“Oh perfect, you’re already up.” Mayci beams when she spots you clutching your chest on the sofa. She bounces over to you and grabs both of your arms, hauling you up as you remain in a state of shock.
“I think I’m having a heart attack.” You murmur as she leads you to the stairs. She merely scoffs in response.
“Big baby.” She mutters.
“Why are you here?” You finally ask as she pulls you into your own room. You sit comfortably on your bed leaning back on your hands as she beelines straight to your closet.
“We’re going golfing with Kelce and Topper. Remember?” She sing-songs as you hear her riffling through your clothes. You groan in response and fling yourself back. Only now do you notice her outfit. She looks like the cover of a woman’s health magazine; her long, copper hair tied back into a ponytail, olive green, athletics dress swishing around her thighs as she darts around your closet, the pristine white socks and trainers basically sparkling.
“But I don’t want to hang out with Kelce and Topper.” You whine. “And I’m going to get stuck with Thornton because Kelce is obsessed with you.” You point out.
“Not true!” Mayci argues from inside your closet, you catch her eyes through a mirror and give her a flat look. “Okay, kind of true.” She gives in with a smug grin. “I’m sorry, it’s not my fault your boyfriend actually has a job.”
“Not my boyfriend.” You murmur.
“Okay, fine.” She gives in with a dramatic sigh. “Husband, whatever.” She adds, cackling as you let out a squeal of protest and launch a pillow at her.
“Why don’t you bring one of the other girls, or Ruthie! She’d love to spend the day with Topper.” You counter with a slight giggle.
“Yes, but I will jump in front of a golf cart if I have to spend the day with her so… no.” Mayci deadpans as she emerges with a handful of dresses. “Please, please, please come with me. It’ll be fun, I swear, and look how cute the outfits are.” You eye her as your defence starts to crumble, she can see a smile threatening to break across your face so she plasters on a saccharine grin. “And I promise to keep the flirting to a minimum.” She adds, holding out her hand in scout’s honour.
“No, you don’t.” You sigh as you stand, holding your hand out to accept the clothes and accepting your fate for the day.
“No, I don’t.” She agrees with a giggle.
You swiftly pick out the white halter neck dress from her selection, showing it off with a quick spin, earning a cheer from the both of you for the built-in shorts with side pockets under the skirt of the dress. You pair it with the green and white adidas trainers Mayci throws in your direction. You both stumble into your garage to find the golf clubs your dad had gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago, you find them behind boxes of Christmas lights and lightly pat the dust off before you are on your way to the country club in Mayci’s Mercedes.
Kelce and Topper are already there when you pull up lingering at the front. They’re joking around but when Kelce notices the car he straightens up and Topper snickers at him. As you step out, you swear you see Kelce’s eyes widen and hearts start swirling around his head making you shake your head and you scoff as you catch Mayci’s smug smirk.
“Can you help with our stuff?” Mayci calls over as she opens her trunk.
“Y-yeah – of course.” Kelce replies, clearing his throat.
The course is surprisingly empty, only a few groups can be seen in the distance giving your group time to linger and joke around.
“God, it looks like a freaking double date.” You grumble from your spot in between Topper and Mayci, watching Kelce set up his shot. “Ruthie is going to skin me alive.”
“Shut up.” Topper elbows you jokingly. “And don’t say date so loud, if Rafe hears that he’ll beat my ass.” He adds, looking around for dramatic flair.
“Who’s going to tell him? His minions are all right here.” You play along, gesturing to Topper and Kelce.
“Who you calling a minion?” Kelce calls over playful anger.
“If the overalls fit.” Mayci sing songs.
“Now I regret inviting him, doesn’t help the image.” Kelce replies as he walks back over to you all waiting by the cart.
“Rafe’s coming?” You ask, your interest peaked – he hadn’t mentioned anything to you about it.
“Maybe – he said he had some meetings but might meet us here later.” Topper shrugs.
“Did you tell him y/n was here?” Mayci teases with a laugh, nudging you. The guys share a glance before looking at you in with confusion.
“Yeah… why’d he care about that?” Topper hesitantly asks.
“Okay. Rude.” Mayci mumbles.
“Not like that.” Topper quickly corrects.
“Because they’re dating- duh.” Mayci says it like she’s talking to a 5-year-old. Your stomach drops as you take in their confused and shocked expressions. They had no idea. You had texted your group chat the night he had asked you on a date and his closest friends don’t even know and worse, they’re shocked by it.
“Wait, what?” Kelce exclaims.
“We’re not dating. It was a date.” You clarify, feeling the need to minimise it – maybe it wasn’t a big deal, maybe it was just a date.
“Are you going on another one?” Mayci asks, trying to prove her point.
“I think so.” You shrug, somewhat uneasily now.
“Dating.” She finalises with a nod. The conversation finally catches up to her and you see the realisation dawn on her as her head whips back to the guys. “Wait, you guys didn’t know?”
“No, I-“ Kelce attempts to explain but Mayci is already on a roll, her attention already on Topper.
“But why did you mention him earlier then?” She asks.
“I was messing around. He’s always had like… a thing about you. I thought he was just like protective or something because of Sarah but damn.” He explains as he raises his hands in surrender to her intense questioning.
You start to play with the bottom of your skirt, straightening out non-existent creases as your thoughts run wild. They thought he was protective of you because of Sarah, his sister. They thought he thought of you like a sister? Now you were feeling a bit nauseous. Mayci turns to you to express her shock but she notices your fidgeting hands and tight smile so she easily turns back to the guys.
“Okay ladies.” She claps her hands together. “Enough chatter let’s get back to golf okay.” She sends you a discreet smile as the guys swiftly move on from the conversation, not giving it another thought – if only you were as lucky.
You were a secret.
Was he embarrassed? Was it some joke and you were the punchline for it? It felt so real on the yacht, he made you feel safe and warm and cared for… maybe it was pity. He felt bad watching you mope around at family dinners, looking lost at the door waiting for your best friend – it was a sympathy date. Then why did he kiss you like he meant it?
You’re dragged out of your downward spiral when Kelce cackles at Mayci’s poor swing, nearly taking him out with it as he attempted to guide her. You need to focus on today – get out of your head. So, you throw yourself into the light atmosphere, racing carts with Topper against the other pair, sipping spritzes as the sun blazes down on you and Mayci lounging in the carts as the guys argue over whose got a better form. You let your worries wash down the drain and it works until they all come flooding back as you watch none other than Rafe Cameron saunter over.
Topper, Kelce and Mayci are over by your carts changing out irons when he approaches them. You watch from the drinks cart as he daps up the guys, smiling as he greets them and nods politely to Mayci. His eyes flicker, not really listening as the guys start to recap the day, he nods along like he’s interested but his mind is set on you. You scrape your focus away from him as the cart girl asks you what you want, and thankful for the interruption, you start a mindless conversation with her about the day, the weather, her shoes – whatever you can. It’s all working until you feel the sun dim and a warm hand gently graces your waist. You don’t need to look, you already know who it is before his cologne hits - he’d burnt his handprint into you days before.
“Hey.” Rafe whispers, ducking down so his mouth is nearly grazing your ear and he gives your waist a squeeze in greeting. “You were right, I do like your short skirt.” You can hear the smile in his voice which now sounds more mocking than sweet.
“Hi.” You mutter back tightly as you shrug out of his hold, he’s barely even touching you but it’s still too overwhelming. In return he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Too much?” He asks with a slight wince thinking he was coming on too strong after just one date but who can blame the guy- he was just excited to see you. But you’re too in your head to see it. You realise you’ve missed something as he just patiently looks to you so you shake your head, trying to clear the fog.
“Huh?” You ask. Thankfully you’re interrupted by the cart girl and you thank her with a polite smile as she hands you your drink and Rafe is already tapping his card against the machine before you can blink. “I had it.” You argue as you turn to face him but he merely shrugs like it’s no big deal. And he’s right. It’s not a big deal – he’s paid for your drinks hundreds of times; it doesn’t mean anything. None of it does.
You go to step away, to return to the safety net of your friends but he easily blocks your path placing a gentle hand on your shoulder as he ducks his head to catch your eye. Confusion drapes his face as he studies you, he knows you too well, has known you too long to not see that you’re upset.
“You good?” He asks, his worry seeping into every syllable.
“Yeah, yeah of course- I’m fine.” You dismiss with a faint smile. It’s not Rafe’s fault you’re in your head. It’s not his fault that your feelings got ahead of yourself.
“Wow I’m convinced.” He replies in a sarcastic drawl, which pulls a small smile from you, amusement glimmering faintly in your eyes against your will.
“I’m okay, just a bit spacey today.” You reassure, placing a placating hand on his forearm as you both start walking back over to your friends.
“Golf that boring, huh?” He asks, returning lightness to the conversation.
“It’s not the most fun sport I’ve ever played.” Rafe grins over at you, sliding his hands into his pockets to keep them off of you, all he wants is to grasp your hand in his but reminds himself to keep his distance, he doesn’t want to overwhelm you or overstep.
“You were right though.” You shoot him a questioning look. “I do like the skirt.” He repeats from earlier, wanting to make sure you actually hear his compliment this time, even as his tone is full of tease.
“I knew it.” You triumphant say, your grin widening and bumping him lightly with your shoulder.
From across the green Topper, Kelce and Mayci are keeping a watchful eye on you two; Topper and Kelce analysing your every move and Mayci with an affectionate smile.
“See they don’t look all flirty.” Topper exclaims as he points at the two of you as you bump Rafe with your shoulder, going back to walking next to each other with some distance between you.
“They’re not even touching.” Kelce comments in a conspiratorially whisper.
“Because you got her all in her head, doofus.” Mayci rolls her eyes at the pair ending with a glare.
Rafe notices your friends’ watchful gaze and gently stops you before you get too close to them- before you get within hearing distance. His hold on your wrist is loose but it’s the tenderness that gives you pause. He hesitates for a moment before he asks, “Did I do something? Did you not like the other night because it felt like you did?”
“No, it’s not that.” You shake your head emphatically.
“But it is something.” He notes, trying to track your eyes to get a read on you.
“I just- I just got in my head. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
“About me? Come on y/n, talk to me. I thought we were good.”
“We are, it’s fine.” You offer him a smile, entirely unconvincing as you’re even annoying yourself at this point, you take a deep breath and mildly squeeze his wrist as he lets you walk away. His eyes stay on you, not at all satisfied. His eyes map you trying to figure out what’s wrong when he sees Topper’s eyes dart over to you flickering between you and Rafe. He can see the worry and maybe… guilt (or at least Topper’s version of guilt) in his eyes from here, making Rafe’s blue eyes squint in suspicion– he should have known those idiots said something to you.
You both return to the group and agree to carry on for two more holes before going back to the clubhouse. You sit in the passenger seat of your golf cart as Topper shoves his club back into his bag and goes to get back into the driver’s seat but is stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. Topper pauses and looks back to see Rafe with a smirk on his face as he pulls him back and pushes him towards Kelce’s cart that holds a giggling Mayci as she watches the scene unfold.
“But it’s my cart.” Topper weakly argues gesturing to where you sit.
“Not anymore.” Rafe dismisses with a grin as he sits down next to you and pulls down his sunglasses. Amusement colours your features as you eye Rafe and merely shrug at Topper when you glance back at him before Rafe takes off. Topper quickly scurries over to Kelce’s cart before he’s left behind.
The group carries on golfing for another hour, filling the time with light-hearted jokes and teasing – the guys taking it all way too seriously and you and Mayci just trying to get through without disappointing your self-appointed coaches (Kelce and Topper) too much. You get back to the clubhouse around mid-afternoon and grab your usual table out on the veranda for a late lunch. You sit across from Mayci, both of you quickly getting wrapped up in making more plans for the summer, Rafe sits at your side opposite Kelce with Topper taking the head of the table with the sinking realisation he is officially fifth wheeling. At the thought, his eyes wander back to you before darting back to Rafe trying to see what he had missed, and in doing so, he catches Rafe’s gaze roaming your figure, fighting back a smile at your laugh before he returns to his conversation with Kelce, all without missing a beat. Topper may have really fucked up.
Throughout the lunch, Rafe feels the guys’ eyes lingering on him with you at his side, he notices them side-eyeing each other attempting to communicate without words and after an hour he’s had enough.
“Let’s grab another round.” Rafe announces rising from his seat, clapping Topper on the back. Topper stands and Kelce starts to lean back in his chair before Rafe makes him pause. “You too.” He nods his head towards the bar. He leaves no room for argument as he’s already halfway across the room causing Kelce to stumble to his feet.
“Be right back ladies.” Kelce grins as he walks backwards towards the bar, holding Mayci’s eye as he winks at her.
“Please take your time.” You sarcastically beg, he flips you the finger as he finally turns around to fully walk away.
Once reconvened at the bar, away from lingering ears, Rafe rounds on the pair. “Alright, what did you idiots do?” He asks, keeping his voice down as he leans against the bar top.
“Us?” Topper indignantly exclaims, pointing to himself and Kelce.
“Yes. You.” Rafe teasingly sneers.
“Nothing, we didn’t-“ Topper attempts to save themselves but is cut off by Kelce sucking in a breath and slightly cringing.
“No, we might have messed it up for you.” Kelce concedes. Rafe simply stares at him waiting for him to continue, feeling his irritation grow but gritting his teeth to keep it tempered.
“No-not messed it up but maybe just a little hiccup.” Topper attempts to soothe.
“We didn’t know you went on a date with her o-or even liked her like that so when Mace mentioned it, we were shocked, you know?” Kelce explains with a slight stutter, feeling flustered under Rafe’s intense gaze.
“Jesus Christ.” Rafe mutter as he roughly rubs his hand down his face.
“Not shocked but like surprised. Not in a bad way. Just we didn’t know.” Topper continues, his voice slowly fading out towards the end.
“What did you say?” Rafe asks through gritted teeth.
“Just that we didn’t know.” Topper states, in an attempt to placate him.
“And that we thought you only were nice to her because of Sarah.” Kelce adds
“Dude.” Topper whispers in betrayal to Kelce.
“Fucking morons.” Rafe mutters as their drinks are placed in front of them, he thanks the bartender as he grabs your drink and his before making his way back to the table. Topper and Kelce lag for a minute before quickly following suit.
“Here you go.” Rafe murmurs as he places your spritz in front of you before gently grazing his palm between your shoulder blades. He leans down to press a sweet kiss to your temple as he settles back into his seat. Shock takes over your features at his gentle gesture and he notes your widened eyes, he keeps his eyes on you as his arm remains draped across the back of your chair, thumb sweeping soothing circles across your shoulder.
“Thanks.” You whisper back to him sending him a smile that makes his heart stutter, one so full of surprise and wonder he can’t help but mirror it back to you. All while Mayci grins at you both like she’s watching her favourite romcom unfold right before her eyes.
After lunch, your groups mindless chatter is interrupted by Mayci’s phone vibrating against the table, her eyes light up as she reads the message.
“Bonfire party down at the beach tonight.” She announces to the table with a playful smirk. Topper and Kelce whoop like frat boys and lean into each other already discussing pre-gaming plans. Mayci leans across the table to you grasping your hands in her own. “You’re coming.” She states – no room for disagreement.
“Oh, if I must.” You playfully concede, mirroring her smirk before looking over to Rafe, raising a brow to him in question. He lets a smile take over his face as he leans further back into his chair, giving you his full attention.
“What time should I pick you up?” He asks, arm still across the back of your chair. His question makes you straighten in your seat.
“Oh, you don’t have to pick me up.” You try to dismiss him but he remains unfazed.
“I know.” He lets that settle before adding, “I want to.” His eyes hold onto yours to make sure you know he means it, attempting to quell any doubts that have been festering in your mind caused by his idiot friends. You nod your head back at him, keeping his gaze and letting your mind calm in his presence. This is real – this feeling he gives you and the way he looks at you, the way he considers you. This is real. Not the fear, not the doubt. If only your mind could bask in it and shut out all the noise, but you’ve had years of raised voices and slamming doors, you know better than most that not all noise can be silenced that easily.
summary: shopping for a midsummers dress is looking a bit different this year but playing dress up with Wheezie may have been just the pick-me-up you needed - her hot brother may just be an added bonus
pairing: best friend's brother rafe x fem!reader
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words: 2.7k
The sun hadn’t long risen when you woke up on the following Wednesday. The air was just heating up as the Carolina sun reached its peak, throwing out gold and orange rays against the clear blue sky - it was going to be a hot one. A perfect day for shopping on the mainland especially as your usual boutique loved to blast the AC.
You got ready as usual, adding enough make up to feel prettier while trying on clothes but not enough that you left remnants of your face on them. You threw on a summer dress, something breezy but still up to par for the high-end boutiques you’d be scouring later. You decided to skip breakfast as you could treat yourself and Wheezie to something when you were out, might as well make a whole day of it. You knew dressing up wasn’t Wheezie’s idea of fun so anything you could do to make it a bit better for her, you would.
It was just past 10am when you got into your little silver convertible to make the short trek to Tanneyhill. You sped past familiar houses of friends, having made this journey enough times you could probably do it blindfolded and definitely could do it blind drunk (as proven on multiple occasions). Your hair flew across your face, the downside of having the roof down but you refused to have it up in summer, needing to make the most of the sun before a storm inevitably rolled in. When you pulled up, you noticed that Ward and Rose’s cars were already gone, likely at work or even more likely at the country club. Pushing your sunglasses up into your hair, you gave the front door a light knock before letting yourself in, old habits did die hard after all, the foyer was empty- the downstairs seemingly vacant of any Cameron life.
“Wheezieee.” You sing up from the bottom of the stairs.
“I’ll be five minutes.” You could hear her frantically yell back from her room.
You hum to yourself in reply, laughing slightly as you think you hear her trip, knowing you won’t see her for at least another ten. Taking your time, you slowly wander into the kitchen sitting down on one of the bar stools by the island, making yourself comfortable as you pull out your phone when the door to the backyard opens behind you.
You swivel to see Rafe coming in, clearly having just finished his morning swim and distracted as he doesn’t notice you right away, too preoccupied towelling off his short hair. The moment he walks in your eyes follow the water droplets running down his tanned, toned torso, thankful for his distracted state so he doesn’t see you eyeing his arms as they flex with the movement of the towel. It hits you suddenly – since when was Sarah’s brother hot?
You’re pulled from your thoughts when Rafe pulls the towel from his head and drapes it over his shoulder. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you sat in his kitchen, perched daintily on a bar stool in yet another sundress that drapes across your thighs like it was sewn around you. He recovers quickly, blinking away his initial surprise as you smile sweetly at him.
“Hey...” He greets you, his confusion seeping into his tone as he makes his way further into his kitchen.
“Hey, taking Wheezie dress shopping.” You reply answering his unasked question.
“Right.” He nods recalling the dinner from last week. He reaches the fridge and grabs waters for both of you, sliding yours across the island. “You always dress up this much for shopping?”
“Got to look pretty otherwise all the clothes will look ugly - it’s science Rafe.” You playfully advise with a grin as you accept the bottle.
“You always look pretty.” He drawls, leaning his elbows on the island making himself closer to your eyelevel with a smirk pulling at his mouth. You feel your cheeks heat up at not just his words but also his stare, you watch his eyes drift lower following the pink flush traveling across your face. You drop your chin for a moment to recollect before meeting his eyes again, his smirk just that much deeper.
“I’m not buying your suit too, no matter how many compliments you give me.” You tease, leaning closer to him yourself.
“You’re not even the one buying.” He reminds you.
“You’re right.” You hum. “I’ll get you a Rolex in commiseration. All on daddy’s card.” You wickedly grin as he cringes, wincing away from you and standing tall.
“Don’t ever call Ward daddy - ever again.” He asserts with a grimace pulling a loud laugh from you, he quickly joins you as you nearly slide off of your stool.
“What’s so funny?” Wheezie asks, announcing her entrance making you both pause as the young teen eyes you both suspiciously.
“Your brother’s balding.” You faux gasp as you hop down from your seat and make your way over to Wheezie, closely missing Rafe’s towel as he swings it out to hit you. “And so young too, what shame. Let’s go Wheez.” You quickly link your arm through the teen’s, as you start to see movement from Rafe in your periphery, dragging her out of the house as she giggles alongside you.
The entire drive to the ferry consists of you singing along loudly to your girl pop playlist and Wheezie pretending she’s not enjoying it. The starting notes of a particularly risqué Sabrina Carpenter song filters through your speakers, you squeal attempting to quickly skip it but Wheezie catches your wrist before you can and shouts the lyrics at the top of her lungs making you both erupt into giggles for the rest of the drive.
Once on the ferry you both settle comfortably into a booth, happy to sit with the silence but also occasionally pointing out the different people scattered across the deck; guessing their jobs, their relationships with each other, why they’re not working on a Wednesday. On the mainland, you take Wheezie to your favourite little café buying both of you some breakfast and then an iced coffee for the road that you both leisurely sip as you window shop. Wheezie drags you into random game stores you both excitedly enter the book store before swiftly going into your separate sections – her the comic books and you the new fiction releases. Finally, you have to drag her, with only minimal resistance into the dress boutiques. Your first stop is one you thought she would like, aimed more for young teens but by the bland look on her face she was not feeling the dresses covered in butterflies and glitter. Your second stop was a new attempt to lift her spirits, a store mostly focused on elderly women and you both tried on some ridiculous dresses that looked more like table doilies than clothing and ended at your mid shins. Que the movie montage of you both trying on the ugliest dresses you could find and proceeding to cackle at each other. Afterwards you strolled into the main event, your favourite store, Wheezie’s eyes light up in wonder as she takes in the elegant patterns and sheer amount of colour littering the rails. You’re greeted by one of the workers, their eyes warm with recognition as you all get to work to find the perfect dress.
You all focus on Wheezie first, pulling different dresses from the racks for her to try while she mostly stares in overwhelmed wonder. You direct her to the dressing rooms to start trying some on, just so she can see what styles, colours, patterns she likes. She’s on her fifth dress and you can hear her mumbled complaint thorough the dressing room door before she quietens.
“Wheez, you okay?” You tentatively ask. Silence and Wheezie do not often go hand in hand.
“Yeah.” She quietly replies, so quiet you only just about catch it over the sound of the door unlocking. Wheezie gingerly steps out, not quite making eye contact with you as she stands in front of the mirror in the waiting area. She eyes herself wearily but with a small smile starting to lift at her mouth as she turns gently, letting the skirt of the dress swish lightly at her legs. The dress is deep green with splashes of red, pink and blue making up an abstract floral pattern. It is high at her neck and flows down beautifully with a diagonal hem that goes from her knees to the floor – youthful and playful enough for her age but also showing off that she’s growing, she’s not baby Louisa anymore.
“You look beautiful, Wheezie.”
“Really?” She tests, finally looking you in the eye.
“Really. This one is perfect – do you like it?” You question, wanting to make sure she’s getting it for her – not because you like it, or if Rose and Ward would approve.
“Yeah, I think… I really like it. I feel- pretty.” She decides, giving herself an assured nod as she looks at herself in the mirror.
“Because you are – you always are.” She blushes at you compliment but rolls her eyes all the same.
“Yeah whatever.” She dismisses as she quickly retreats back into the changing room. You breathe out a laugh to yourself as you make your way back to the shop floor – time to find your dress.
Once Wheezie comes back out, dress safely waiting for her behind the counter, she seems to have much more fun picking out dresses for you to try on; some outrageous that your mother would disown you for, others looking more like bridal gowns but you try them on for her-sake, letting her laugh at you or you laugh at her as her jaw drops. You try on a blue, floor length dress that is simple but elegant, one that she picked out, and as she sees you step out she lets out a small squeal.
“That one – you have to pick that one!” She excitedly exclaims, a beaming smile on her face.
“You think?” You ask as you eye yourself in the mirror, turning to see how the dress moves, how your body looks in the different angles and – you look good! Not just good but captivating, the dress accentuating your best features, the colour making your eyes pop and tan glow.
“I think you’re right. Look at you being a stylist, better watch out or I’ll tell Rose you actually enjoyed yourself.” You tease as you walk back to change.
“You wouldn’t dare!” She gasps, playing along. She watches you walk back into the changing room with a knowing look in her eyes. “Rafe is going to lose his mind.” She mumbles to herself.
You finally make it back to Tanneyhill and as you pull up Wheezie is rattling off question after question on how she should do her hair, what colour shoes should she wear, does she need to wear jewellery? Amusement swirls in your eyes as you gently calm her and follow her up to her room so you can help raid her wardrobe.
When Rafe arrives home after his meetings, he smiles as he sees your Porsche parked back along the drive. He waltzes in, drops his keys with a clank by the door but stops as silence welcomes him, seeing no sign of you. He starts up the stairs to his room, ready to wash the humid air from the day off, when he hears the soft tones of your voice floating out of Wheezie’s room, her door slightly ajar. It brings him back to all the times he would come home from school, work, a party to hear you and Sarah laughing and whispering secrets – your melodic laugh and gentle tone more of a soundtrack to his life than he realised until it stopped.
He peaks through the small gap in the doorway to see his little sister sat in front of her vanity, you stood behind her curling her hair and pinning each section perfectly in place. He watches Wheezie talk enthusiastically about any and all thoughts that come to mind but your eyes are intently focused on her hair, flickering to her in the mirror occasionally with a kind smile, nodding along to whatever she’s saying. Rafe can’t contain the small lift of his mouth as he turns away to leave you guys alone, going back to his room.
“Ta-da.” You say as you step away from the younger girl’s hair, Wheezie stops mid-sentence to take in your masterpiece of an up-do, the girl's curly hair pinned up with small sections gracefully flowing out of it, and the front pieces perfectly framing her face.
“Woah. I am so not going to be able to do this.” She exhales turning her head side to side.
“I’ll take a photo – I’m sure Sarah or Rose can help you.” You assure, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“She’d have to be here to help.” Wheezie scoffs with a small pout.
“You can always call me and I’ll help too.” You advise her gently, not wanting to ruin her good mood.
“Thanks, Y/n. I actually did have fun today.” She bashfully smiles as she turns in her seat to face you.
“I knew it!” You jab pulling the girl into a hug as she whines. “I should get going, but I had fun with you too Wheez.” You add.
You’re down the stairs before you hear a deep voice call your name and you turn to see Rafe coming down the stairs.
“Hey, I didn’t hear you come home.” You greet him, taking a few steps back to the stairs to meet him halfway.
“You guys were busy, didn’t want to interrupt.” He waves off. “Have fun?”
“Yeah, it was really nice.” You beam. “Oh wait.” You pause to rummage through your purse before pulling out Ward’s card. “Here.” You pass it over to Rafe, he takes it before dropping it onto the side table next to him. You roll your eyes at his carelessness. “Well, I could have done that.” He shoots you a smirk in reply.
“So, you going to let me see your dress?” He drawls, his usual boyish air on at full force.
“You want to see my dress?” You blandly ask, knowing he’s never been one to care about that sort of thing.
“Well, you in it, yeah.” He corrects as his smile turns into a roguish smirk.
“Down boy, just have to wait like the rest.” You tease, turning away from him and his flirting- he can’t see that he’s made you blush twice in one day, his ego doesn’t need the inflation.
“Alright, alright.” He settles, drawing your attention back to him. “What are you er- what are you doing on Saturday?” He questions casually.
“Nothing, why?”
“Thinking of taking the Druthers out, would be nice to have company.” He trails off, looking to you. Rafe subtly brushes his hands against the fabric of his shorts, before pushing them into his pockets.
“Yeah, sounds good, who else is- “
“No one. Thought this could just be you and me.” He states simply like he hasn’t sent your mind reeling. Sure, you’ve known the Cameron’s your whole life but the number of times you’ve hung out with just Rafe could be counted in single digits and even fewer were planned. But now that you’re thinking about it, you’re struggling to remember why – why haven’t you spent more time with just Rafe? You’ve always gotten along, he’s always been easy to talk to, someone you’ve divulged your secrets and feelings to without a second thought. You feel yourself nodding before you can think about it.
“Yeah, yeah. That would be fun.” You smile gently, feeling yourself already getting excited.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at your dock.” He grins, letting his hands fall back to his sides as he lets out a relieved breath.
“My dad’s having it extended so it’s out of commission. I can just meet you here.” You advise, stepping backwards towards the door again but this time not taking your eyes off of Rafe.
i have a req! okay so reader got out of like a really toxic relationship which made her like view affection and love in a weird way. then she starts dating rafe and she confused by all the kind gestures he’s doing. so he kind of like fixing her idea of what love is.
love your work!!
“YOU’RE GETTING THE HANG OF IT”
MASTERLIST
a/n: thank you for your request!! this was lowkey heartbreaking to write but it’s very cute
you had gotten used to thinking that love was supposed to hurt; your ex boyfriend had strongly made sure of that. every small disagreement would always lead to a shouting match where you would be left apologizing, begging for him to forgive you even though it was never your fault. the lines between affection and manipulation blurred and somewhere along the way, you couldn’t tell the difference.
so when you started dating rafe, you didn’t know what to do with him. the first time he showed up at your house on a random tuesday morning with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, you stared at them suspiciously before looking back up at him. “what did you do?” you ask slightly panicked, because it never crossed your mind that someone could gift flowers without the intent of covering up a mistake. your ex boyfriend had always gotten you half-assed roses after he spent the night with another girl.
“nothing, baby.” he looks down at the flowers before giving you a warm smile. “i just wanted to.” you frown, taking them from him slowly. “that’s it? you don’t have anything else to tell me?” his eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion at your response. “yeah,” he laughs quietly. “what else would there be? what, am i not allowed to bring flowers for my special girl?”
you shrug, still unsure as you walk inside with the flowers clutched against your body. you feel an unfamiliar warmth in your chest. rafe trails behind you into the house, watching the way you keep glancing down at them like you’re trying to figure out what the catch was.
and it kept happening.
it was after you had a heated argument with your parents that left you stranded showing up at tannyhill at 2am. tears start to blur your vision as you tell rafe what had happened, sat on his lap as he gently runs his hands up and down your back. your heartbeat starts to get faster as you relive the moment, your tears becoming more uncontrollable by the second.
the memories of your ex boyfriend suddenly come rushing back, reminding you of all the times you’d gone to him for comfort after situations like this. “grow the fuck up- nobody wants to hear you whining okay? jesus christ stop being so fucking dramatic.” he’d said when your mom kicked you out of the house for the first time.
“rafe i’m sorry, i’ll try to stop crying-” you whisper into his chest between ragged breaths. rafe freezes for a second at your response before brushing the hair out of your face, leaning down to lift your chin up. “hey. look at me.” he says.
“i know- i know i’m sorry-” you apologize out of habit. “don’t ever apologize for crying.” he wipes your tears away like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. that night, you slowly started to learn how it felt to be truly loved. it was the way he held you in his arms all night, whispering soft “im here for you”s, telling you “im not going anywhere.” that night he had stayed up for you until the sun peeked through his curtains, pressing gentle kisses onto your forehead and fighting his own exhaustion to make sure nothing disturbed you in your precious sleep.
on a regular basis, he’d bring you food whenever you mentioned anything about being hungry. he’d drive across town to pick you up when your car wouldn’t start, promising that he’d buy the right equipment to fix it himself. he’d remember the smallest things you told him without realizing you’d said them in passing. and every single time, you’d ask the same question in one way or another.
“what do you want in return?” you ask one day after he’d given you his credit card to spend shopping on a girls day. “what?” he responds. you let out a quiet laugh, looking down at his wallet in your hand. “i just don’t get why you’re always doing stuff for me.” rafe’s expression softens. “because i love you.”
you shake your head in confusion. “yeah, but..you don’t have to do all this.”
“i know.”
“and im not gonna owe you anything?”
his eyebrows furrow. “baby, what?”
you shrug, suddenly embarrassed. “nothing. forget it.”
“no,” rafe turns toward you, his voice quieter. “what do you mean?” you stare down at your hands for a moment before finally admitting it. “i’m just not used to guys doing nice things for me without expecting something back. like- like my ex boyfriend he would yell at me if i didn’t pay him back for-“ rafe’s jaw clenches as you describe your last relationship, cutting you off with a “yeah, well your ex boyfriends a fucking piece of shit.”
“you don’t owe me anything,” he says. “not for this. not for anything.” you look up at him as he gives your hand a squeeze. “you don’t have to earn me being nice to you. i do it because i love you. if i get you flowers, i want you to decorate your room with them. when i get you food i want you to eat it-”
“and if i want a kiss?” you ask, a wide grin in your face.
“then i kiss you back.” he smiles, leaning down as your lips meet his. “see? you’re getting the hang of it.”
tags/comment to be added or removed: @filthyrafe @ihateithere33 @lh87905 @naomiiily @drewmfstarkey @dabishou @shewants7 @ghoulmetery @meltyice77 @sweetstrawberrianne @ldrjordannn @kissmeuntil @cakecoffeeandbooks @inclubheaven @imacreepimaweirdoradiohead @rafecameronarchive @cameronsfics
pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader
content: fluff, established relationship, calico critters, rafe being secretly soft, lots of teasing, domestic sweetness
warnings: language
word count: 4.3k
masterlist
Rafe Cameron did not understand Calico Critters.
He understood boats, engines, expensive watches, which gas station stayed open latest, and exactly how much shit he could talk before Topper finally got pissed enough to shove him.
Tiny flocked animals dressed in little sweaters, however, made absolutely no sense to him.
Which was why, when you stopped so abruptly in the middle of Target that he nearly walked straight into your back, Rafe immediately assumed something was wrong. His hand landed against your waist to steady you while his eyes swept the aisle. “What?”
You turned toward him with your eyes wide. “Rafe. They have them.”
He followed your gaze toward an entire pastel wall of boxes filled with rabbits, cats, squirrels, bears, and an unreasonable number of babies being pushed around in miniature strollers. Rafe stared at the display for a few seconds before looking back at you. “What the fuck am I looking at?”
Your mouth fell open. “Don’t say that in front of them.”
“In front of who?”
“The babies.”
Rafe looked at the shelf again, then at you, like maybe if he gave you enough time you would realize how ridiculous you sounded. You didn’t. Instead, you grabbed one of the boxes and shoved it into his hands. “Look. They’re twins.”
“They’re rabbits.”
“They’re twin rabbits,” you corrected, tapping the plastic window. “And they come with a stroller. Look at the stroller.”
“I can see the stroller.”
“No, you’re looking at it. You’re not appreciating it.”
Rafe let out a long breath through his nose, but he turned the box over anyway. The back showed the two tiny rabbits posed in several different scenes, one tucked inside the stroller while the other stood beside it. He studied them for all of three seconds before his eyebrows pinched together. “They look exactly the same.”
“They’re twins, Rafe.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
You gasped. “Language.”
His mouth twitched. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“And you’re being rude to them.”
“To the rabbits?”
“To me.”
That got an actual smile out of him, quick and crooked before he looked away.
You had come to Target for shampoo. That was literally it. Somehow, fifteen minutes later, you were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the toy aisle with three boxes arranged in front of you while Rafe leaned against the cart, looking increasingly unimpressed.
“The seals are cute,” you murmured.
“Get the seals.”
“But I already have the seal family.”
“Then don’t get the seals.”
“But these are the babies.”
Rafe closed his eyes for a second.
You picked up another box. “But the latte cats are really cute too. Look at their ears.”
“Get those.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t.”
You frowned down at all three options, genuinely conflicted, until Rafe finally checked his phone. “Baby, you have been sitting on the fucking floor for fourteen minutes.”
“It has not been fourteen minutes.”
He held his phone toward you. You squinted at the time before looking offended anyway. “Okay, but I can’t decide.”
“Then buy all three.”
You looked up immediately. “No.”
Rafe glanced at the three boxes, then at the seventy-dollar sweatshirt he had thrown into the cart earlier without even checking the price. “You’re joking.”
“They’re like twenty dollars each.”
“And?”
“Rafe.”
“And?”
“I don’t need all of them.”
He nudged the toe of your sneaker with his. “Then pick one.”
You looked down again, still agonizing over it, and Rafe lasted maybe ten more seconds before bending down, scooping up all three boxes, and dropping them into the cart.
Your head snapped up. “Rafe.”
“What?”
“Put them back.”
“No.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“You’re not buying me sixty dollars worth of Calico Critters.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s excessive.”
“That’s not a reason.” He had already started pushing the cart away by then, leaving you sitting on the floor until you scrambled up and hurried after him.
“Put two back.”
“No.”
“Baby.”
“No.”
“You don’t even like them.”
“Exactly. Consider this charity.”
You shoved his shoulder. He barely moved. “You’re so annoying.”
“And yet,” he said, glancing down at you with that lazy little smirk that made it impossible to stay properly irritated with him.
“And yet what?”
“You’re still following me around.”
“You have the cart.”
“Sure.”
“My purse is in it.”
“Sure.”
“And I love you.”
That made him falter for barely half a second, but you noticed because you always noticed. Rafe had gotten better at hearing it, better at accepting affection without immediately acting like it made him uncomfortable, but sometimes there was still that tiny pause whenever you said something too casually tender. Like some part of him still expected love to come with conditions he had missed.
His fingers tightened around the cart handle. “Yeah, yeah.”
You grinned. “Love you too.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you’re expensive.”
“You put them in the cart.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours.”
By then he was smiling properly, so you rose onto your toes to kiss his cheek. Rafe ducked away just enough to be irritating. “Get off me.”
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Rafe.”
He sighed like you had asked something deeply inconvenient, caught your chin between his fingers, and bent down to press a quick kiss against your mouth. “There. Happy?”
Your entire face brightened. “Very.”
“Good. Go find your shampoo before we leave here with a miniature fucking suburb.”
ᨳଓ .
You had technically been collecting Calico Critters since you were little, although you refused to call it collecting whenever Rafe was around because he made you sound insane.
There were a handful from childhood that had survived several moves, lost accessories, and your mother repeatedly asking if she could finally donate the cardboard box beneath your bed. Then, sometime during college, you started buying them again. One rabbit family became two. Two families became four. Then came the furniture, followed by the little bakery, and eventually a house you found secondhand online and made Rafe drive forty minutes with you to pick up because, according to you, it was vintage.
“It’s plastic,” he had said when the seller carried it outside.
“It’s discontinued.”
“That doesn’t make it vintage.”
“You don’t understand collecting.”
“Yeah, because I have hobbies.”
You had glared at him for nearly the entire drive home. He bought you dinner anyway.
That was generally how your relationship worked. Rafe complained, you ignored him, Rafe complained some more while doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and then several days later the thing you had mentioned wanting would mysteriously appear somewhere in your apartment while he pretended he had nothing to do with it.
So maybe you shouldn’t have been quite as surprised as you were when you came home from class one Thursday afternoon and found a small paper shopping bag sitting on your kitchen counter.
Rafe was stretched across your couch with his shoes kicked off, one arm thrown along the back cushions while SportsCenter played quietly on the television. He barely looked up when you dropped your keys into the bowl beside the door. “Hey.”
“Hi.” You walked behind the couch and leaned over to kiss him upside down, only for Rafe to catch the back of your neck and tilt his face until he could kiss you properly.
“Miss me?”
You smiled against his mouth. “You’ve been here for, like, twenty minutes.”
“Didn’t answer.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He kissed you once more before letting you go. You straightened, smoothing your hair back into place, and immediately looked toward the counter. “What’s that?”
Rafe’s eyes flicked toward the bag for half a second. “What’s what?”
“The bag.”
“Food.”
You stared at him. He stared back.
“You do that weird thing with your eyebrows when you lie.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“You’re making shit up.”
You were already walking toward the counter, your suspicion turning into excitement when you noticed the toy store logo printed on the side. “Did you get me something?”
“No.”
The smile spreading across your face widened. “Why are you lying again?”
“Baby.”
You opened the bag before he could stop you and pulled out a small box.
For one stunned second, you just stared.
Then you squealed so loudly that Rafe visibly flinched from the couch. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“You got the Persian cat twins!”
“Apparently.”
“Rafe!”
You practically threw yourself across the room. He had just enough time to toss his phone aside before you landed half on top of him, wrapping both arms around his neck. “I love them. Oh my God, I’ve been looking for these forever.”
“I know.”
You froze and slowly leaned back enough to look at him. “You know?”
Rafe’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
Your eyes narrowed before the realization hit. “You listened to me.”
“I listen to you.”
“You remembered which ones I wanted.”
“You talk about these little fuckers constantly.”
The warmth spreading through your chest had very little to do with the actual gift anymore. You held the box against yourself and watched the defensive look start creeping onto his face because he already knew you were about to make the moment sentimental.
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“That’s so cute.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re so cute.”
“Stop.”
“You went into the toy store by yourself?”
“Baby.”
Your eyes widened. “Did you ask an employee?”
His ears started turning pink.
“Oh my God, you did.”
“Okay.”
“You walked into a toy store and asked somebody where the Calico Critters were.”
“I knew where they were.”
“Then how did you find these?”
Rafe went silent.
You gasped. “Did you ask if they had them in the back?”
“I’m breaking up with you.”
You burst out laughing and tried to slide off his lap, but Rafe caught you around the waist and dragged you back against him. “You’re an asshole.”
“You love me.”
“Starting to reconsider.”
You kissed his cheek anyway, then the other one, then his forehead until Rafe shoved your face away with one hand. “Get off.”
“No.”
“You’re crushing me.”
“You can bench, like, two hundred pounds.”
“More than that.”
“Congratulations.”
You settled sideways across his lap and looked down at the box again, smiling at the tiny white kittens sitting beside each other in matching pastel outfits. “They’re so cute.”
“Yeah.”
Your head lifted immediately.
Rafe was looking at them too. Not with the disgust he usually performed whenever your collection came up, and not even with annoyance. He looked interested.
You narrowed your eyes. “You think they’re cute.”
“No.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You just looked at them fondly.”
“I don’t look at anything fondly.”
“That’s not true. You look at me fondly.”
“Rarely.”
“And apparently tiny cats.”
Rafe grabbed the remote. “Put your show on.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Put your show on.”
You did, but the moment stayed tucked in the back of your mind.
ᨳଓ .
The first undeniable sign that something was happening came a couple weeks later.
You were reorganizing your collection on the bedroom floor while Rafe lay sprawled across your bed behind you. Miniature chairs, tables, dishes, beds, and suspiciously tiny appliances covered most of the carpet because you had decided the bakery needed to move beside the main house. According to you, it made more sense geographically.
Rafe had informed you that using the word geographically in reference to Calico Critters should qualify you for psychiatric observation.
You ignored him.
You were halfway through moving a little table when he suddenly said, “No.”
Your hand froze. “What?”
Rafe pointed lazily from the bed. “That doesn’t go there.”
You looked at the table, then at him. “What?”
“The table. It was beside the window.”
There was a pause.
You slowly put it down. “Why do you know where it was?”
Rafe’s expression changed almost immediately. “I’ve seen it before.”
“Rafe.”
“What?”
“You know where my Calico Critter furniture goes.”
“I have eyes.”
You narrowed yours. He narrowed his right back.
Something was happening.
You weren’t sure exactly what, but something was absolutely happening.
Instead of pushing it, you turned around and started rearranging the bakery again. “Okay.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You said it weird.”
“I said okay.”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you know something.”
You smiled to yourself. “I don’t know anything.”
“Baby.”
You continued moving things around, and for several seconds Rafe stayed quiet. Then he said, “The register goes on the other side.”
Your shoulders started shaking.
“Shut up.”
“That’s where you had it.”
You spun around. “You know where the register goes?”
“Because you keep changing shit.”
“You know the layout.”
“I’ve been forced to look at it for six months.”
“Oh my God.”
“Stop saying that.”
“You like them.”
“I do not like them.”
“You have opinions.”
“Because your new layout looks stupid.”
You crawled toward the bed with a grin, and Rafe immediately leaned backward like he could somehow escape the interrogation. “Don’t.”
“You’re a collector.”
“Don’t fucking call me that.”
“You’re one of us.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You’re one of us.”
He grabbed a pillow and held it between you like a shield. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re obsessed with them.”
“I think your bakery looks like shit.”
“You remembered the register.”
“Because the register belongs beside the display case.”
Silence.
Rafe realized what he had said at roughly the same time you did.
You stared at him.
He shut his eyes.
“Oh,” you whispered.
“Don’t.”
“You’ve thought about this.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have interior design opinions about my Calico Critter bakery.”
“I’m leaving.”
You collapsed against him laughing, and Rafe shoved weakly at your shoulder. “Get away from me.”
“You’re so embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m pissed off.”
“You’re blushing because you love Calico Critters.”
“I love you.”
That shut you up.
Rafe seemed to realize what had come out of his mouth a second later.
Not because he had never said it. He had, plenty of times by then. But Rafe’s I love yous tended to come quietly, mumbled against your hair before bed or pressed into your mouth in the dark or tossed over his shoulder when he was leaving like saying it casually somehow made it safer.
This one had slipped out without thought.
Immediate. Annoyed. I love you.
As though that explained the whole thing.
Your expression softened. Rafe looked away first and cleared his throat. “And because I love you, I’m forced to know where the stupid register goes.”
You climbed onto the bed beside him and tucked yourself into his side. “So you don’t love them.”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
You picked up one of the tiny rabbits from beside your knee and held it in front of him. “Look at her.”
“Get that shit out of my face.”
“She loves you.”
“She doesn’t know me.”
“You’re hurting her feelings.”
“She is made of plastic.”
“Flocked plastic.”
“Whatever.”
You placed the rabbit directly on his chest. Rafe stared down at it while the little rabbit stared back. You waited, trying not to smile as his forehead creased.
Finally, after nearly ten seconds of silence, he asked, “Why is she naked?”
You laughed so hard you nearly fell off the bed.
ᨳଓ .
The second sign came when one went missing.
Not yours.
His.
Although you didn’t know that yet.
Rafe showed up at your apartment at nine in the morning on a Saturday already irritated, which was not unusual enough to immediately concern you. You opened the door wearing pajama shorts and one of his shirts, barely managing a sleepy smile before he leaned in to kiss your forehead.
“Morning.”
“Did I leave something here?”
You blinked. “Hello to you too.”
“Hi.” He kissed your temple this time, distracted. “Did I leave something here?”
“What?”
Rafe stepped past you and immediately started looking beside the couch. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what you’re looking for?”
“I know what I’m looking for.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“Nothing.”
You watched him check beneath a pillow before crouching to look beneath the coffee table. “Rafe, what did you lose?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re searching my apartment.”
“Dropped something.”
“What?”
“My—” He stopped.
You crossed your arms. “Your what?”
Rafe looked at you. You looked back.
“My lighter.”
“You don’t smoke in here.”
“Could’ve had it.”
“You used your blue lighter last night, and I watched you put it back in your pocket.”
Silence.
That was when you started paying attention.
You joined the search, mostly because your curiosity had become unbearable. “What size is it?”
“Don’t.”
“Big?”
“Baby.”
“Small?”
He said nothing.
You crouched beside the entertainment center and scanned the dark space underneath until something small and brown caught your eye. You reached beneath it, fingertips brushing something soft, and pulled out a tiny flocked otter wearing a yellow shirt.
You stared at it.
Behind you, the entire room went silent.
Slowly, you stood. Rafe had the expression of someone who had just been caught committing a felony.
You looked at the otter again, then back at him. “What.”
“Give me that.”
You immediately pulled your hand out of reach. “What is this?”
“Nothing.”
“This is a Calico Critter.”
“I can see that.”
“This isn’t mine.”
“Okay.”
“Rafe.”
He reached for it again, and you dodged him. “Is this yours?”
“No.”
“Then whose is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You came here at nine in the morning and have been crawling around my apartment specifically looking for it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
You stared at him. Rafe stared back before his gaze dropped toward the otter.
“Can you just give him back?”
Your whole expression changed. “Him?”
Rafe closed his eyes.
You gasped. “He has a gender?”
“Don’t start.”
“You know enough about him to have decided he’s a boy?”
“He’s obviously a guy.”
“Oh my God.”
“Stop saying that.”
You clutched the Critter to your chest before he could snatch it. “Where did he come from?”
For a second, Rafe said absolutely nothing. Then he muttered, “The boat.”
You blinked. “What boat?”
His eyes closed again.
A slow smile spread across your face. “Rafe.”
“No.”
“What boat?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“What boat?”
He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “The fucking boat.”
Your eyes widened. “The Calico Critter boat?”
“It’s just a boat.”
“You bought the Seaside Cruiser Houseboat?”
“How the fuck do you know the name?”
“Because I wanted it.”
“Well, now you know why I didn’t get it for you.”
You stopped. “What?”
Rafe crossed his arms. “You said you wanted it. I looked it up. It was cool.”
You stared at him. “You bought it for yourself?”
“It has a slide.”
Your jaw dropped.
Rafe’s face immediately went red. “A working slide.”
“Rafe.”
“And the top comes off.”
“Rafe Cameron.”
“And you can put the fucking furniture inside it.”
You were already vibrating with excitement. “You have a collection.”
“I have one boat.”
“And an otter.”
“The otter came with it.”
“That counts.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“You started collecting Calico Critters.”
“I bought a boat.”
“You started collecting Calico Critters.”
“I swear to God—”
You launched yourself at him before he could finish. Rafe caught you automatically, hands gripping beneath your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist and buried your face against his neck, laughing.
“This is the cutest thing you have ever done.”
“Get off me.”
“You have a Critter.”
“I have a boat.”
“You have an otter.”
“Baby.”
You lifted your head, still smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. “Does he have a name?”
Rafe said nothing.
Your smile vanished. “No way.”
“Don’t.”
“Rafe.”
“Don’t.”
“You named him?”
“I didn’t name him.”
“You definitely named him.”
“I didn’t.”
“What’s his name?”
Rafe looked away.
You waited.
Finally, with the quiet resignation of someone confessing to a crime, he muttered, “Finn.”
There was a beat of complete silence.
Then you made a sound so high-pitched that Rafe physically recoiled. “Stop.”
“You named him Finn!”
“Keep your voice down.”
“There’s nobody here.”
“You’re being annoying.”
“You named your Calico Critter.”
“He needed a name.”
You were laughing so hard by then that you could barely breathe. Rafe dumped you unceremoniously onto the couch, and you grabbed his wrist before he could walk away.
“Wait. Can I see the boat?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Rafe.”
“No.”
You widened your eyes.
He looked at you. “No.”
Your bottom lip pushed out.
“Stop.”
“Please?”
“You’re manipulating me.”
“Please, baby?”
Rafe stared at you for three long seconds before sighing. “Put shoes on.”
Your entire face lit up.
He pointed at you immediately. “And you get one comment.”
“One?”
“One. About the boat.”
“Can I comment about Finn separately?”
“No.”
“But—”
“I’m leaving.”
“Okay! Okay.”
You jumped up from the couch and hurried toward your bedroom. Rafe shook his head behind you, but you caught him glancing down at the otter still in your hand.
“Don’t lose him again.”
You bit down on your smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
ᨳଓ .
The boat lived in Rafe’s closet.
That was somehow the funniest part.
He had cleared an entire shelf for it, not some forgotten bottom corner where he could pretend he had thrown it. An actual shelf, positioned at eye level, with the white-and-blue houseboat displayed properly and several miniature pieces of furniture arranged inside.
Finn sat in the driver’s seat.
You stood completely still in front of the open closet while Rafe hovered behind you, becoming visibly more irritated by the second. “You’ve got ten seconds.”
“You decorated it.”
“Eight.”
“There’s a little bed.”
“Seven.”
“You put a lamp beside it.”
“Six.”
“Rafe.”
“Five.”
“You made him a bedroom.”
“Four.”
Your eyes narrowed as you leaned closer. “Did you buy that furniture separately?”
“Three.”
“Oh my God, you did.”
“Two.”
“You’re literally obsessed—”
Rafe shut the closet door.
You immediately grabbed his arm. “No!”
“You used your comment.”
“That was not one comment.”
“That was like twelve.”
“Let me see.”
“No.”
“Baby.”
“Absolutely not.”
You were laughing again, which only made him more defensive. Rafe tried to walk around you, but you wrapped both arms around his waist from behind. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m embarrassed for you.”
“You bought him a bedroom set.”
“It came with bunk beds.”
You froze.
Rafe froze too.
Very slowly, you leaned around his side. “Bunk beds?”
“No.”
“You said bunk beds.”
“Forget it.”
“Rafe.”
“Stop.”
“Who sleeps on the top bunk?”
“Nobody.”
Your eyes widened. “Rafe Cameron.”
He peeled your hands off him and started walking out of the room. You followed immediately, half laughing as suspicion dawned. “You bought another one.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Who lives on the top bunk?”
“Nobody.”
“What kind is he?”
“Not telling you.”
“So there is another one.”
“Fuck.”
You stopped in the hallway, clutching your stomach. Rafe kept walking while you called after him, “Is it another otter?”
Silence.
“A rabbit?”
Nothing.
“A cat?”
He kept going.
“A squirrel?”
Nothing.
“A dog?”
His mouth twitched.
You gasped. “Dog.”
“Shut up.”
“What kind?”
“Baby.”
“What breed?”
“They don’t have fucking breeds.”
“Yes they do.”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“You bought him.”
“Because Finn needed somebody on the boat.”
You stopped.
Rafe stopped too.
He realized what he had said.
Your hand slowly lifted to your chest. “Finn was lonely?”
“No.”
“You thought he was lonely.”
“No.”
“You bought him a friend because he was lonely.”
“I’m going home.”
“This is your house.”
“Then you’re going home.”
You followed him into the kitchen, unable to stop smiling. “What’s his name?”
“Doesn’t have one.”
“Can I name him?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Charlie.”
“No.”
“Henry.”
“No.”
“Waffles.”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Walter.”
Rafe paused.
It was barely noticeable, but you saw it.
“You like Walter.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You paused.”
“Because it’s stupid.”
“Finn and Walter.”
“Stop.”
“Finn and Walter Cameron.”
Rafe whipped around. “They do not have my last name.”
You grinned. “So they do have first names.”
His eyes narrowed.
You blew him a kiss.
ᨳଓ .
After that, it became a problem.
For both of you.
You started sending him listings whenever you found something cute, usually with no expectation that he would actually care. Rafe pretended to ignore them. Then, at random hours of the day, you would get texts that proved he absolutely had not.
do you have the yellow rabbit
You stared at the message for several seconds before replying.
WHICH YELLOW RABBIT
A picture arrived less than a minute later, blurry and badly framed because Rafe apparently couldn’t be bothered to take a decent photo of something he claimed not to care about. You zoomed in and immediately typed back.
OH MY GOD THAT’S THE HOPSCOTCH RABBIT FATHER
do you have it
no :(
okay
why
no reason
Three days later, the rabbit was sitting on your pillow when you came home.
Sometimes you found them in his truck. Once, while looking for gum in the glove compartment, you discovered a tiny koala wearing a dress tucked beside his registration papers. You pulled her out and held her up between two fingers.
Rafe didn’t even glance away from the road. “Don’t.”
“Why is she in here?”
“Bought her earlier.”
“You just carry them around now?”
“She was in the bag.”
You studied the little koala. “She’s cute.”
“I know.”
Silence.
Rafe seemed to realize what he had said.
You slowly turned toward him. “You said—”
“I know what I said.”
“You think she’s cute.”
“Yeah.”
You pressed the koala against your chest. “Growth.”
“Shut up.”
The worst incident happened when Topper came over and discovered the boat.
Rafe nearly killed him.
Topper had wandered into the bedroom looking for his phone charger, stopping short when he noticed the closet door had been left partially open. “Is that yours?”
Rafe looked up from his phone and immediately knew exactly what Topper was looking at. “Don’t.”
Topper pushed the closet door wider, eyebrows climbing. “No fucking way. Is that a dollhouse?”
“It’s a boat.”
“Is that a tiny dog?”
You were curled up on Rafe’s bed by then, already biting your lip to keep from laughing. Topper turned toward you. “You did this.”
“I did not.”
“I bought her one,” Rafe said defensively.
Topper looked back at him. “And then?”
Rafe’s silence answered for him.
Topper’s entire face changed. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t.”
“You bought yourself one?”
Rafe stood.
Topper immediately started backing toward the doorway. “Okay, okay.”
“Get the fuck out.”
“Does it have a name?”
“Topper.”
“Does it?”
“Leave.”
You were already crying laughing by the time Topper disappeared down the hallway yelling, “RAFE HAS DOLLS,” at absolutely nobody.
Rafe slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it before turning toward you. “This is your fault.”
You wiped beneath your eyes. “How?”
“You introduced me to them.”
“I didn’t make you buy a boat.”
“You said you wanted the boat.”
“For me.”
“I wanted to see if it was worth it.”
“And?”
Rafe glanced toward the closet.
There was a pause.
Then, quietly, he muttered, “The slide’s pretty sick.”
You dissolved all over again.
ᨳଓ .
Christmas was when things got completely out of control.
You and Rafe had agreed not to go crazy with presents, which historically meant absolutely nothing because neither of you had the self-control necessary to follow through. You bought him a new wallet he had been staring at for months, a sweatshirt, sunglasses he refused to replace because he had already lost two pairs that year, and one smaller box you saved for last.
Rafe, meanwhile, had apparently heard the words don’t go crazy and interpreted them as buy everything anyway.
You stood in front of his tree staring at the pile of presents. “This isn’t what we agreed.”
“You said don’t go crazy.”
“This is crazy.”
“This is normal.”
“There are twelve things under your tree with my name on them.”
“One is from Wheezie.”
“Okay. Eleven.”
“Open them.”
“Rafe.”
“Baby.”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
He smiled. “Open your presents.”
So you did. Perfume, a sweater, shoes, a book you had mentioned wanting once months earlier, and a replacement for the necklace you lost and had been convinced was gone forever. Then you reached the largest box.
You looked at him, and Rafe suddenly became very interested in the wrapping paper scattered across the floor.
You peeled it open.
Then stopped breathing for a second.
Inside was the Red Roof Grand Mansion.
The enormous one.
The one you had sent him months ago before immediately retracting the message because it was absurdly expensive and you had nowhere to put it.
“Rafe.”
“What?”
“You did not.”
He shrugged.
You looked at the box, then back at him. “Where am I going to put this?”
“Your living room.”
“Where?”
“I’ll move the bookshelf.”
“You’re not moving my bookshelf.”
“Then we’ll put it here.”
You blinked. “At yours?”
“Yeah.”
“But my collection is at my apartment.”
“So?”
“So then they’d be separated.”
Rafe frowned like this was a genuine logistical problem he had not considered. “We can move yours here.”
You stared at him.
He looked back, expression completely casual.
“You want my Calico Critters at your house?”
“Could.”
Something in your chest softened so suddenly it almost hurt.
Because it wasn’t really about the toys.
It was Rafe making room.
Rafe, who had spent most of his life acting like needing anyone made him vulnerable, casually offering you space in his home as though it was the easiest thing in the world. A shelf. A corner. A ridiculous plastic mansion. For your tiny rabbits.
For you.
You crawled across the carpet and climbed into his lap. Rafe’s arms wrapped around you immediately, one hand settling against your back while you tucked your face into the side of his neck.
“Thank you.”
“You like it?”
“I love it.”
“Good.”
You stayed there for a moment, letting his hand move slowly over your back. “I love you.”
His hold tightened. “Love you too.”
Then you remembered your final present and pulled away abruptly. “Wait.”
Rafe sighed. “You already got me too much shit.”
“Shut up.”
You grabbed the small box from beneath the tree and handed it to him. “This one matters.”
Rafe took it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
He tore the wrapping paper and lifted the lid.
Then went quiet.
Inside was a Calico Critter golden Labrador wearing a navy sweater.
You watched his face carefully. “I know Walter is technically your boat dog, but this one looks like you.”
Rafe looked at you. “I’m a dog?”
“Don’t ruin it.”
He looked back down at the little figure. “Why is he dressed like that?”
“I gave him a blue sweater because you always wear blue, and…” You hesitated.
Rafe lifted the Critter out. “And?”
You smiled. “I named him Rafey.”
His head snapped toward you. “No.”
You immediately started laughing. “Rafey Cameron.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Little Rafey.”
“No.”
“Baby Rafe.”
“Stop.”
“He can live in the mansion with mine.”
“He is not living in your fucking mansion.”
You gasped. “What?”
“He’s living on the boat.”
“With Finn and Walter?”
“Obviously.”
You smiled while Rafe turned the little Labrador over in his hand, his thumb brushing over the ridiculous blue sweater.
“You like him.”
“He’s okay.”
“You love him.”
“Don’t push it.”
You leaned toward him. “Can I tell Topper?”
“I’ll throw you into the ocean.”
“So no?”
“No.”
You kissed him anyway.
Rafe kissed you back.
Then, while you were distracted, he tucked the tiny Labrador carefully into the front pocket of his hoodie.
You noticed.
You didn’t say anything.
ᨳଓ .
By spring, your collections had merged.
Mostly because you were at Rafe’s place more often than your own apartment anyway, and after several months of moving little houses back and forth in bags, it made more sense to keep everything together. The mansion sat against the wall in his spare room. The boat was beside it. Then two smaller houses appeared, followed by the bakery, a nursery, a grocery store, two cars, and a tiny school that Rafe insisted had been on sale and therefore did not count as an impulse purchase.
He had even installed battery-powered lights.
You came over one evening and found him sitting cross-legged on the floor by himself.
He didn’t hear you enter.
You stopped in the doorway.
Rafe was holding Finn in one hand and Walter in the other, carefully positioning both of them inside the miniature car.
Your mouth slowly opened.
He looked up.
Frozen.
You froze too.
Neither of you said anything for several seconds before Rafe looked down at the figures, then back at you. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. “What does it look like?”
“Don’t.”
You stepped into the room. “Were you playing with them?”
“No.”
“You were.”
“I was moving them.”
“Where?”
Rafe hesitated.
You looked at the car, then at him. “Rafe.”
“The bakery.”
Your heart almost exploded. “You were driving Finn and Walter to the bakery?”
“I was moving them to the fucking bakery.”
“In the car.”
“That’s how they’d get there.”
You covered your face with both hands because you could already feel yourself losing it. Rafe’s expression sharpened. “Why would they walk?”
You dropped your hands. “Across what?”
“What?”
“You said why would they walk. Walk across what?”
Rafe gestured vaguely at the collection around him. “This.”
You stared at him. “You have lore.”
“I do not have lore.”
“You have city planning.”
“Shut up.”
You dropped onto the floor beside him and picked up one of your rabbits. “Okay. Where does she live?”
Rafe pointed without hesitation. “Upstairs.”
You stared at him. “You know where everybody lives?”
“No.”
“Rafe.”
“Most of them.”
“Where does the cat family live?”
“Blue house.”
“The squirrels?”
“Yellow.”
“The seals?”
“They have the cottage.”
“The baby twins?”
“Nursery.”
Your entire expression softened.
Rafe noticed immediately. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. What?”
“You’re cute.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re really cute.”
“I’m not.”
“You remember all of them.”
“Because they’re everywhere.”
“You built them a town.”
“You built them a town.”
“You helped.”
“You kept putting the bathroom beside the kitchen. Somebody had to intervene.”
You laughed and leaned sideways until your head rested against his shoulder. For a few seconds, neither of you said anything. Rafe looked down at you and nudged your knee with his.
“You happy?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
You picked up the little golden Labrador in the blue sweater. “And Rafey?”
“No.”
“Where does Rafey live?”
“Boat.”
“With Finn?”
“And Walter.”
“Do they pay rent?”
Rafe looked at you like you had asked the stupidest question imaginable. “No.”
“Freeloaders.”
“They own the boat.”
“Oh.”
“Finn does.”
You lifted your head. “Finn owns the boat?”
“Yeah.”
“And Walter?”
“Mechanic.”
You stared at him.
Rafe stared back.
Then his expression dropped. “Fuck.”
You fell sideways onto the carpet, laughing. “You have lore!”
“I don’t.”
“Walter is a mechanic.”
“He fixes the boat.”
“You’ve thought about this.”
“Because the boat needs somebody who can fix it.”
“The boat is plastic.”
Rafe grabbed you around the waist and dragged you toward him, rolling you beneath him while you continued laughing. “You’re fucking annoying.”
“You’re playing dolls.”
“They’re not dolls.”
Your eyes widened.
Rafe realized immediately.
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t.”
“You just defended them.”
“Shut up.”
“You called them by their correct terminology.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
His expression softened just enough. “Unfortunately.”
You smiled and slid your fingers into his hair, letting the moment settle before your gaze wandered toward the little town spread across the carpet. “You know what we need?”
“No.”
“A restaurant.”
“We have the bakery.”
“They can’t eat pastries for every meal.”
“They’re fake.”
“That sounds like something somebody without proper urban planning would say.”
Rafe stared down at you for several seconds before sighing. “What kind of restaurant?”
Your entire face lit up.
He immediately groaned. “Fuck.”
“A diner. With booths and tiny pancakes and little coffee cups—”
“You already have coffee cups.”
“Not diner coffee cups.”
Rafe rolled his eyes, but you knew him. You knew the slight tilt of his mouth and the look in his eyes when he had already decided he was going to do something but wanted to complain about it first.
So you were not remotely surprised when, three days later, you walked into the spare room and found a Calico Critters diner sitting beside the bakery.
You stood in the doorway for several seconds before turning toward the living room. Rafe was stretched across the couch, looking up when you appeared. “What?”
You pointed toward the spare room.
He shrugged. “They needed somewhere to eat.”
Your mouth fell open.
Rafe managed to hold a straight face for maybe two seconds before he started smiling.
You launched yourself at him.
“Don’t—”
Too late.
You landed directly in his lap.
He caught you anyway.
Always did.
“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, arms settling around your waist as you pressed rapid kisses along his jaw.
“You bought tiny pancakes.”
“They came with it.”
“You bought tiny pancakes.”
“Stop.”
“I love you.”
Rafe sighed, but his arms tightened around you. “Love you too.”
You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “And I love Finn.”
“Obviously.”
“And Walter.”
“Sure.”
“And Rafey.”
“Change his name.”
“Never.”
Rafe groaned and dropped his head against the back of the couch while you grinned into his neck.
Across the room, beneath the window, sat an entire miniature town filled with little houses, tiny furniture, cars, rabbits, cats, seals, dogs, and one boat that Rafe Cameron had once insisted was the only thing he owned. The bakery register was exactly where he liked it. Finn’s boat was parked beside the house. Walter still slept on the top bunk because apparently mechanics needed somewhere to rest after long days repairing plastic boats. Little Rafey Cameron sat behind the wheel of a miniature car because, according to Rafe, somebody had to go pick up dinner.
You still insisted Rafe had become a collector because of you.
Rafe insisted he had not.
He just happened to own twenty-seven Calico Critters, several buildings, multiple vehicles, a diner, one boat, and an embarrassingly detailed note in his phone listing every family you already owned so he wouldn’t accidentally buy duplicates.
But that was different.
Because Rafe Cameron did not collect Calico Critters.
He just loved a girl who did.
And somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, he had started loving all her tiny little things too.
⋆˚꩜｡ BoyfriendRafe who acts annoyed with you when your excited over something small but he's really trying to hide his smile and admiration.
-"Omg, Rafe look at that puppy! Please can we get one? it's so tiny, I need it, please, Rafe, pleaseee?"
-"Stop looking at me like that, baby. No dogs, you won't even take care of it, you hardly clean up after yourself, its fuckin' irritating."
-"That's so not tru--" The look he shoots your way immediately silences you.
-"Stop poutin', honey. Maybe if you be a really good girl then we can get one."
⋆˚꩜｡ BoyfriendRafe who spoils the living daylights out of you its actually unbearable
-One time when Rafe came home from a short work trip, he came back with two suitcases and a duffle bag. Which was confusing because he only packed his things in the duffle, so what was in the suitcases? Clothes upon clothes, trinkets upon trinkets. All for his girl. Seeing the smile on your face made him want to take you to bed right that second (if you'd ask why so soon, he'd say cuddles, but he really desperately needs to be inside you)
Do you have any more boxer rafe fics there so gooooddd
. ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ .YOUR JOB WAS HARDLY ACCEPTED BY BOXER!RAFE, REALLY YOU WERE SUPRISED HE STILL LET YOU WORK.. really, after you got pregnant, all you thought he wanted to do was keep you in the house. well, he tried to at first. it manefiested from his promises of letting you shop online, get ordering food in, and then getting you gifts. the final cherry on top was his subtle hints that you should stay home. safe, warm, and where he knew where you were.
the final straw for you was not being allowed to come to rafe's matches. rather than staying on the stands, he told you it was better if you stayed at home. now, you'd wait on him, all worried as he came in quietly. he reminded you of his old self, someone more controlling than trusting.
breaking this fact to rafe was harder then you thought it would be. really, it was something that you couldn't do to him. and you liked being his wife, of course you really liked it when he showed off that pretty ring on your finger, or when his eyes shone when someone called you ms. cameron. and you loved being his. the one in his sheets, one that made him laugh with happiness as you wrapped your legs around his waist. you loved all of it, but one thing that you didn't budge on was working at your cafe as a waitress.
it was the one thing that the two of you fought about every day. as you got ready for your shift, the shirt slightly tightened at your midsection. you were on your second semester, and barely showing but rafe's eyes always darkened and travelled to your stomach. the second that you walked into the living room, his eyes scanned your face, before giving you a firm pat on your ass. you laughed as you mixed your granola, and got a little on your fingers. before you could wipe it off, rafe kissed it away.
"ew!" you laughed, pushing him away. but you couldn't help but be pulled in when he put his hands in the pocket of your jeans. you softened immediately as he dropped down to kiss your stomach.
"you don't need to work," he mumbled into your button-up shirt. you squirmed, tugging him closer. "i make enough."
"you tell me this every day."
"shit baby, and i mean it every day."
finally you pulled his face away to look at him properly. he eyes were dead set on you, lips pursed, completely serious. "rafe! how many times do i have to tell you...i want to work. i want to."
"and how many times do i have to tell you that i can support for both of us...and fuck this but i can support for," his tone softened, as his calloused hand skimmed past your tummy, "...for the three of us."
and he got you there, but today wasn't the day you were going to give up on your work. he knew it too, the way determination was scribbled on your face, and groaned.
"please sweets," he muttered, "you've got a man to his knees."
you sighed, putting a finger on your chin as if you were contemplating it. you felt a little silly, looking at a completely scrambled and tired rafe. you see the bandages around his knuckles wrapped a little loose, and you knew that if you fixed them, and stayed a little longer, you wouldn't walk out that door. you also knew you were getting on his nerves, but lord did you like to bother him. just a little bit longer would you work at the cafe, just a bit longer.
"no." and then the sweet, independent girl you were—you left a kiss on his shoulder and walked out the door.
. ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
working, and bustling around was hard. you were always sweating from running around so much, and a certain point you felt a bit disgusting under the lights of the cafe. you had to just close your eyes, and put a hand over your stomach. your head hurt, and...it was moments like this where you realised maybe you should have just stayed at home. you had an excuse, and you had a husband, you had a good life, and for gods sake, you were pregnant—
"excuse me?"
you looked up realising someone was calling you.
"yeah! you. quit stalling."
it was a man your age on the right of you. brown slicked back hair, and cold eyes. he was waving around the menu, as well as snapping his fingers. you cracked a forced smile, making your way to him. you hoped to god you couldn't get a rant.
"hello, what can i get for you?"
he coughed, "took you long enough. well, you can get me some eggs and a coffee. black, and no sugar," you nodded, quickly writing down the items before giving him a pleading smile.
"i'm sorry for the wait, sir. i'll bring your ordered items quickly," you murmured, letting out a soft sigh. you felt so winded these days, and a small voice in the back of your head seemed to tell you rafe was right...maybe you shouldn't work. however the customer's sneery voice brought you back to reality.
"damn right you will."
this was the last order. you knew better than to mess it up. c'mon, this is the last one! you just gotta get this one, and you can go home, you thought to yourself. finally you brought out the tray with the food. as it may be, something else caught your eye....was that rafe?
your husband. your goddamn husband was coming inside. see, now this would normally not alarm you, but you knew if he came in and saw how lightheaded you looked, and the grumpy man you were serving was acting...things would go south.
quickly, you rushed into the kitchen, praying that you could give that customer to someone else. you turned to malia, your co-worker, while peeking outside to see if rafe was still there. sure, there he was with furrowed brows as if he was trying to find you and failing.
"hey, could you cover for me? the guy in the red? i feel really sick," you whispered to her, fanning your face with the flimsy menu. there was a long pause while you watched her wipe the table. malia bit her lip before turning to look at the guy. you watched her face lose a little color as she winced. then she screwed her eyes shut, sighing before shaking her head.
"sorry babe, the last time i served him he cursed me out. besides, he seems finished with his food, just pick it up and ask him if he wants the bill," malia said, before moving on to another table. you bit the side of your mouth, folding your hands tightly to your chest, not wanting to cause more of a fuss. inside you there was a war raging. why did rafe have to come to the cafe now?
finally a few minutes passed before you heard an insisting loud voice. you looked outside again to see it was the man. letting out a small breath, you got the courage to go out and see what he wanted.
the man let out a loud sigh, "im done. bring me the check. fuck, you guys serve lousy food." hearing him ask for the bill gave you so much relief you felt your body relax. scurring to get all of his plates, you felt a tap on your shoulder. tensing, you turned again.
rafe. he was smiling, a little rough, a little tired. his eyes were sharp as they scanned, but concern flickered instantly. he looked so gorgeous, but you couldn't help but stay tense, giving him a tight-lipped smile.
"hey, what are you doing here?" you squirmed, trying to move away from the man. rafes' eyebrows went up, giving you a pointed look. you were trying to hide how uncomfortable you were by quickly darting around the kitchen looking for something.
"waitress!"
"hey? baby-" rafe tried calling out for you, but you've already made it to the guy's table.
"yeah, you. took so long with the bill, do you guys even have any training? alright, 60 bucks, 2-dollar tip, don't you dare complain about that bitch. took you around an hour to even bring the bill."
"yeah, but i-" you stammered out, trying to say something. the guy scowled, spitting food out in a napkin before letting out a burp. you winced before you are interrupted.
you felt rafe behind you, fuming. he stayed silent, though, silence stretching things. you didn't dare look at him, but the man kept going.
"yeah whatever. the customer's always right. you know what, why don't you call over your manager? i bet he'd want a load of this incompetent-"
rafe steps forward slowly, and you can see the way his temple is throbbing. theres murder in his eyes, his movement sharp and controlled. his eye is twiching in that way that makes your stomach twist.
"hey," he says, voice deadly soft, like the calm before a storm, "you got a problem?"
the man scoffs, looking him up and down as if sizing him up. you see a small flicker of fear in the man's eyes as he scoffs arrogantly, "yeah, i do dipshit. your waitress can't do her job-"
"my wife," rafe snaps, his tone sharper. his hand smacks down on the man's table.
"don't really care who she is. service is shit."
you step in, your heart racing, as anger simmers on rafe's face. his gaze is locked on the man, sharp and unblinking. "you don't get to talk to her like that."
the man laughs under his breath, licking his lips as he looks rafe straight in the eyes.
"or what?"
now you see rafe get closer to him, hand hooked under the man's shirt. the guy squirms as his face goes red. you grab his arm quickly, pulling him away.
"rafe," you whisper softly, pleading him to stop, "not here."
for a second, rafe doesn't move until his jaw tightens. his breathing is uneven, his whole body locks forward like he's about to do something worse. his eyes seem to flicker to you, to your face, to you, and then lower to your stomach. something in his changes, his gaze almost worried as he looks at you, trembling
rafe's grip loosens just slightly, like he’s fighting himself now instead of the guy. his jaw tightens harder, and he exhales sharply through his nose, shoving the man back.
“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand over his mouth like he’s trying to pull himself together.
"pay," rafe says flatly, "and leave."
the guy is quick to put a few cash bills out of his pocket before tightly wrapping his jacket. he's watching rafe closely as if he were about to be attacked. all you can do is breathe out and in. there thobbing in your head as you watch the man pack his things.
you can see there's a small bruise forming from where rafe gripped him, but it doesn't stop him from getting the last word "fucking psycho."
as the door shuts, the little bell signals that the nightmare is over. you let out a sigh of relief, gripping the table for dear life. rafe is immediately by your side, strong hands holding you up, "shit, are you okay?"
you can hear his fear, his voice almost a whisper. you try not to let it affect you. you nod quickly, brushing him off as you unsteadily try to find your balance. your chest feels tight, "i'm fine, i was handling it."
"fuck that," he laughs a little cruelly, and it reminds you of a younger, a more lost rafe. his eyes are narrowed, letting out a shaky breath, "you're not fine."
you scowl, "i just got a little lightheaded, it's nothing."
"it's not nothing," his voice tightens again. you can see the volatile look in his eyes, "you're working like this? running around, dealing with assholes like that?"
you pull away, "it's my job, rafe"
"you're pregnaunt."
"i'm still me." you shoot back, your voice firm as you place your his chest to feel his heartbeat. you lift your head up, pleading.
"you need to trust me."
his eyes search yours, as he sighs, sensing that you won't budge. the tension in his doesn't disappear, rafe runs a hand through his hair, his voice quiet, "fewer shifts. i can't let you live like this."
"okay," you breathe out, nodding your head before you finally take his hand. "fewer shifts."
finally, he wraps his hands around you, not too tight, but you completely relax around him without thinking about anything. his head rests on your head before gently kissing your cheek.
reader trying to make rafe listen to her fav music
Aux cord
pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
blurb: you finally have the chance to get the aux and you're not passing up this opportunity to make rafe listen to your favourite music
warnings: just some fluff and cute banter
wc: 0.7k
It wasn’t often that you got the aux cord when it was just you and Rafe in the car. Usually on longer trips, Topper, Kelce, and Sarah would be in the back on one of the dedicated road trip playlists blasting through the high-grade speakers, or Topper would be begging for the aux. On shorter trips, the music would be from the radio or Rafe’s connected phone, some random rap song you’d never heard of playing.
So when you got the rare opportunity to be alone with him for an hour trip to go to some Cameron family event, you didn’t pass up the chance to connect your phone and decide the music for once. As soon as you did, Rafe groaned.
“Seriously, baby?” he pouted fakely, glancing over at you with his best puppy eyes. You weren’t falling for them this time.
“C’mon,” you whined, scrolling through your Spotify to find something nice to play, “You never even try to like my music taste.”
“Yeah, because you don’t have any,” Rafe muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.
You gasped dramatically as you heard, mock-offended. “Excuse you. How would you even know good music when all you listen to is rap?”
“You just don’t know how to appreciate the art,” Rafe commented, as if proud about his choice in music. It wasn’t necessarily bad. Just not your style. But you weren’t about to tell him that.
“You liked Taylor Swift,” you countered. Rafe tried to interject, but you didn’t let him. “Don’t lie to me. I saw Cruel Summer on your playlist.”
“That’s just because it’s everywhere. Can’t really avoid it.” Rafe tried to defend himself. He couldn’t deny it was a vibe sometimes, though.
You sighed, finally finding a decent song. Summertime Sadness by Lana del Rey. It was a timeless song. Couldn’t go wrong with that, right? “You’ll like this one,” you promised, even though it was the furthest thing from what Rafe usually listened to.
The intro started with violins. Had he ever even heard them before? You looked over to gauge Rafe’s reaction, laughing softly as you saw the almost comical expression on his face. A mix of pure confusion and annoyance. Or was it fear?
Rafe glanced at the screen displaying the song, his face contorting even more. “Who the fuck is Lana?”
That elicited another shocked gasp from you. “Baby? How do you not know who Lana del Rey is? Hello?” He had to be joking. There was no way he hadn’t even heard the name. God, how could you be dating someone who didn’t know the icon herself?
You heard the chorus start up, enjoying the rather soft music for once. Then you were confused. “Wait a minute… Do you not look at any of my stories on Instagram, Rafe?” You’d posted maybe a million with Lana. That little-
Rafe looked guilty for about a second before covering it up with his abundance of arrogance. “I’m there for the photos, baby. Not the music.”
You shook your head dramatically, turning to stare out the window. “How could you? Do you understand the time it takes me to curate my stories? And you can’t even look at them.”
Rafe tried to hide his smirk. God, you were so over the top. He moved one of his hands to rest on the smooth skin of your thigh. “Mm… I’m sorry, baby.” When you didn’t respond, he knew he had to compromise. “How about you get to choose songs for the rest of the ride?”
That got you to look with eager excitement, then you dimmed it to appear more composed. You couldn’t let him win that easy. “And you won’t complain?”
Rafe sighed but then begrudgingly agreed. “And I won’t complain.” The way your face lit up was worth it. He could sit through an hour of this. How hard could it be?
“Alright! Next one’s National Anthem,” you chirped, grinning like this was the best day ever.
Wait, she’s going to sing the National Anthem? That was music now? What had he signed himself up to?
a/n: tysm for this request!!! im sorry it took me like forever to get to 😭 i didn't really know what kinda music but i figured everyone who loves rafe loves lana soooo 🤭 and if you dont then like... go listen to her i promise your life will be changed! moreee reqs and stuff coming this week love yall 💖✨ feel free to send in requests for fics, headcanons or moodboards (pls send some dark ones i beg) ꫂ᭪݁
Sunlight was already pouring through the half-open curtains, warm across the tangled sheets. Your head was tucked under Rafe’s chin, one of his heavy arms locked around your waist, your leg thrown over his hip like you’d been trying to climb inside him in your sleep. His other hand was buried in your hair. You were both still completely naked under the covers, and the room smelled like sex and his cologne.
You were just starting to stir when the door swung open without warning.
“Yo, Rafe, we’re heading to the— oh shit.”
Topper’s voice froze mid-sentence.
Your best friend’s gasp followed a second later.
You and Rafe both jolted awake at the same time. You scrambled to yank the sheet higher while Rafe sat up fast, one arm still protectively around you, blinking hard against the sudden light.
Topper stood in the doorway with his mouth open, your best friend peeking around his shoulder with wide eyes. The two of them took in the scene in one long, stunned second: the messy bed, the clothes scattered across the floor, the very obvious hickeys on your neck, and the fact that you were currently half-draped over their frat president like you belonged there.
“Holy fuck,” Topper finally said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I knew it.”
Your best friend smacked his arm, but she was biting back a smile too. “We knocked! You didn’t answer!”
“Get out,” Rafe growled, voice still rough with sleep. He looked murderous and ridiculously hot at the same time, hair a mess, chest bare, one hand still resting possessively on your bare thigh under the sheet.
Topper held up both hands, laughing as he backed toward the door. “We’re going, we’re going. But just so you know, breakfast is almost over and everyone already assumed you two were fucking after the way you’ve been looking at each other. Congrats, I guess?”
Your best friend gave you a pointed look that clearly said we are talking about this later, then dragged Topper out and shut the door behind them.
The second they were gone, you dropped your face into your hands with a mortified groan.
Rafe let out a low, tired laugh and pulled you back against his chest.
“Well,” he muttered into your hair, “that’s one way to tell the house.”
You groaned again, but you were smiling into his skin.
Present Day
The bass from the speakers thumped through the crowded living room of the Delta Kappa house, red lights flashing across bodies moving to the music. Solo cups everywhere. Laughter. The usual controlled chaos of a Saturday night party.
You were leaning against the kitchen counter, a little tipsy, nursing the same drink you’d been nursing for twenty minutes while watching Rafe across the room. He was talking to a couple of the brothers, one hand in the pocket of his black jeans, the other holding a beer. Every so often his eyes found yours through the crowd, dark and knowing, like he could still feel the way you’d woken up that morning tangled around him.
It had been months since that beach trip.
Months since Topper and your best friend had walked in on the two of you looking thoroughly fucked and ridiculously soft with each other.
Months since the arguing had turned into something else entirely.
You took another sip of your drink, warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Your mind kept drifting back — the car rides, the lake, the way he’d tied your bikini bottoms with careful hands, the night you finally stopped running and kissed him first. How he’d looked at you the next morning like you were already his, even before either of you had said it out loud.
Rafe finished his conversation and started making his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with that same easy, arrogant confidence he’d always had. Only now it was softer around the edges when it was directed at you.
He stopped in front of you, close enough that his chest almost brushed yours, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“You’ve been staring,” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear over the music. “What’s going on in that head?”
You smiled up at him, a little soft, a little drunk, and looped your arms around his neck.
“Just thinking about how we got here,” you admitted. “How much I used to hate you.”
Rafe’s mouth curved into that familiar smirk. He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
“Yeah?” he murmured. “And now?”
You pulled back just enough to look at him properly, thumbs brushing the back of his neck.
“Now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
His expression softened in that rare way that was only ever for you. Then he kissed you — slow and deep right there in the middle of the kitchen — while the party kept moving around you like background noise.
When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.
“Good,” he said quietly. “Because you’re stuck with me.”
You laughed, tipsy and warm and completely gone for him.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I know.”
Across the room, Topper caught your eye and raised his cup in a mock toast, still looking far too pleased with himself.
Some things never changed.
But the most important one had.
And as Rafe’s hand slid down to rest on the small of your back, grounding you against him, you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.
wooohooo end of an era! Thank you guys for all the support throughout the series (with my longggg breaks in between)! I want to especially thanks @rafecameronarchive who helped me throughout the series love her! Though sometimes it had its slow moments and I was farmished for ideas and energy I would do it again! Which why I am with another Rafe series! Yayyyyy!
Twenty minutes of lying stiffly on your side of the bed, staring at the dark ceiling, listening to Rafe’s steady breathing and overthinking every single word from earlier. The garage. The store. The way he’d looked at you when you said you might move back to your own room. The quiet disappointment he hadn’t even tried to hide.
You hated this.
You hated the distance more than you’d hated arguing with him.
So you caved.
Carefully, you rolled onto your side and reached out, poking him lightly in the ribs with one finger.
Rafe’s eyes opened almost immediately. He hadn’t been fully asleep.
“What?” he muttered, voice rough with the edge of sleep.
You didn’t answer with words at first. Instead you scooted closer, the sheets whispering around you as you closed the space you’d been so careful to keep. Your hand found his side again, fingers brushing over warm skin as you pressed yourself against him, forehead nearly touching his chest.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
Rafe went still.
You kept going, voice soft and a little shaky. “About earlier. About saying I’d move back the second the room was ready. I didn’t mean it like… like I was done with this. I just panicked. I don’t know how to explain any of this to anyone yet, and I didn’t want to assume you even wanted me in here for more than one night.”
His hand came up slowly, resting on the curve of your waist. Not pulling you closer. Just holding.
“You talk too much when you’re nervous,” he murmured.
“I know.”
You tilted your head back to look at him. In the dim light his eyes were dark, watching you carefully. The usual cocky edge was softer. Quieter.
You swallowed.
Then you kissed him.
It was slower than the first time in his dorm room. Softer than last night’s hungry, filthy urgency. Just your mouth brushing his, tentative and a little shy, like you were still waiting for him to push you away.
He didn’t.
Rafe’s hand slid up your back, fingers threading into your hair as he kissed you back. Deep and unhurried. Like he’d been waiting for you to make the decision. His other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you fully against him so there was no space left between your bodies.
You made a small sound against his mouth when your chest pressed to his. He answered by tilting his head and kissing you harder, tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl under the sheets.
When you finally broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against yours.
“Took you long enough,” he said, voice low.
You huffed a tiny, breathless laugh. “I was trying to be responsible.”
“Fuck responsible.”
His hand slid down to your thigh, hitching it over his hip so you were half on top of him. The kiss that followed was deeper. Hungrier. You could feel him getting hard against you, and the low sound he made when you shifted your hips sent heat flooding through your entire body.
“You still nervous?” he asked against your mouth.
“A little.”
Rafe kissed the corner of your lips, then your jaw. “Good. Means you’re not overthinking it as much.”
You smiled despite yourself, fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.
“I’m still sorry,” you whispered.
He pulled back just enough to look at you properly. Something serious flickered in his expression.
“Then stay,” he said simply. “For the rest of the trip. Don’t do the whole ‘maybe I’ll move back’ thing again. Just stay.”
Your heart stuttered.
“…Okay.”
Rafe’s mouth curved into the smallest smirk. Then he rolled you onto your back in one smooth motion, settling between your thighs as he kissed you again — slower this time, but with clear intent.
“Okay,” he repeated against your lips. “Now shut up and let me make up for being an asshole earlier.”
The plumber had done what he could, but the carpet was still damp and the smell of mildew hadn’t fully cleared. Topper delivered the news at dinner with an apologetic shrug.
“Looks like you’re stuck upstairs another few nights,” he said. “Sorry, man.”
Rafe just nodded once, expression unreadable. You felt your stomach drop.
A few more nights.
After the conversation in the garage, the thought of sharing a bed with him again made your skin feel too tight. You’d left things unfinished. He’d told you to figure out what you wanted. And now you were going to be trapped in the same room with him while you still had no clear answer.
You tried to delay the inevitable.
You stayed downstairs longer than anyone else, helping clean up after dinner, then sitting on the porch with your best friend until the group started drifting off to bed one by one. You volunteered to lock up. You took an unnecessarily long shower in the downstairs bathroom. Anything to give Rafe time to fall asleep first.
It didn’t work.
When you finally crept upstairs a little after midnight, the hallway was quiet. You pushed open the door to his room as softly as possible, hoping the lights would be off and he’d already be out.
Instead, the en suite bathroom door opened at the exact same moment.
Rafe stepped out, towel hanging low on his hips, hair still damp from the shower. Steam followed him into the room. Water droplets clung to his chest and shoulders. He stopped short when he saw you standing there in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, one hand still on the doorknob.
For a second neither of you spoke.
You felt the shiver run through you before you could stop it.
Rafe’s eyes moved over you slowly — not in the hungry way from earlier, but assessing. Taking in the way you were hovering near the door like you might turn and run. The way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. The flush already climbing your neck.
He’d never seen you look this shy.
“You’re late,” he said finally, voice quiet.
“I was… helping downstairs.”
He didn’t call you on the obvious lie. He just walked over to the dresser, pulled out a pair of black sweatpants, and stepped into them under the towel before letting it drop. The casualness of it made your mouth go dry.
You still hadn’t moved from the doorway.
Rafe glanced at you again as he tossed the towel toward the bathroom. “You planning on sleeping in the hallway?”
“No.” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. You forced yourself to step inside and close the door behind you. The soft click felt too loud.
The king bed suddenly looked enormous and far too intimate.
You set your phone on the nightstand and hovered near the edge of the mattress, unsure what the protocol was now. Last night had been heat and teasing and no hesitation. Tonight felt different. Heavier.
Rafe pulled the covers back on his side and got in, leaning against the headboard. He watched you for a moment, elbows resting on his knees.
“You can relax,” he said. “I’m not gonna jump you the second you get in the bed.”
The dry edge in his voice almost made you smile. Almost.
“I know.”
You climbed in carefully, staying as close to the edge as possible without falling off. The sheets were cool. His body heat radiated from the other side of the mattress. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, hyperaware of every small movement he made.
Silence stretched.
Then Rafe exhaled and turned onto his side, facing you.
“You’re being weird,” he muttered.
“I’m not.”
“You are. You’ve been acting like I might bite you since you walked in.”
You turned your head to look at him. In the low light from the bathroom, his expression was softer than usual. Still a little closed off, but not cold.
“I just… didn’t know how this was supposed to go,” you admitted. “After earlier.”
Rafe was quiet for a few seconds. Then he reached out and tugged lightly at the edge of your pillow, dragging it — and you — a few inches closer without fully closing the space between you.
“Same as last night,” he said. “You stay on your side. I stay on mine. Unless you decide otherwise.”
Your heart thudded against your ribs.
“Okay.”
He didn’t push further. Didn’t tease. Just settled back against his pillow, eyes still on you for a moment longer before he closed them.
You lay there in the dark, listening to his breathing even out, every nerve in your body still buzzing.
reader doing the hickey prank on rafe after hanging out with the pouges🤭
hickey prank w rafe
he was already waiting for you in the car as you waved goodbye to the pogues before opening the car door & sliding in. cleo had suggested it, wanting some “fun” before quickly putting some dark blush on your neck and making sure your hair was down to look like you had been hiding it.
“how was it?” rafe asked, immediately leaning forward to kiss you, hand cupping the back of your neck.
you kissed him back, “great. are we going back to yours?”
“yeah” his gaze dropped to your hair, “your hair looks real nice. i also got some snacks since i found that movie you wanted to watch..” he trailed off, eyes narrowing on the dark marks on your skin. his voice lowered as he leaned forward, “what’s that?”
you slapped his hand away, “nothing.”
“baby” he snapped, “im being dead fucking serious. is that a hickey?”
“no, it’s just a bruise.”
“a bruise that’s on your neck & dark purple? really?”
“it’s not that deep.”
“it was JJ, wasn’t it?”
you had to hide your smile. you don’t think the pair of blondes would ever stop hating each other. “ew, no.”
“so who was it?” rafe actually looked furious as he brushed your neck. his face tightened, “did you consent to it?” he asked softly.
you sighed, pulling away, “rafe, it was a prank.”
he blinked. “oh.” all the anger and jealousy from before was gone as his grip loosened on your neck. “really?”
you glared at him as you smudged the makeup on your neck to prove it.
“don’t give me that look.” he mumbled, “it looked really real.”
you laughed as you leaned forward and kissed him gently. “im sorry, baby.”
rafe grinned earnestly, “really? now let me give you some real ones.”
━ (18+) Your big strong boyfriend is always needy after his workouts.
He came home still in his gym clothes, muscles swollen and glistening with sweat. The second the door shut, that intimidating exterior crumbled. He dropped his bag, walked straight to you, and wrapped his huge arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck with a quiet, almost desperate sigh. “Missed you so much,” he mumbled against your skin, already nuzzling closer.
You smiled and ran your hands up his broad, damp back. “Come on. Shower.” In the bathroom, he barely waited for the water to warm up before peeling both of you out of your clothes. Once under the hot spray, he became even needier. His big hands roamed everywhere — squeezing your ass, sliding up to cup your tits, pulling you flush against his hard, slick body. His thick length was already half-hard and pressing hot against your stomach.
“Can I have you?” he asked softly, almost shy despite how massive he was. You answered by wrapping your fingers around him and stroking slowly. He groaned low in his chest and lifted you like you weighed nothing, pressing your back against the cool tiles. One strong arm held you up while the other guided his dick between your thighs. He pushed in slow, inch by thick inch, until he was buried deep. The stretch made you moan, and the sound seemed to break something in him. He started thrusting with deep, powerful strokes, the wet slap of skin echoing in the shower as water poured over both of you.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” he rasped against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours. “I always get so fucking needy after the gym… just want to be inside you.” His hips snapped harder, fucking you deep against the wall. One of his hands slid between your bodies so he could rub your clit in tight circles while he pounded into you. The combination of him stretching you open and his fingers working your clit had you clenching around him within minutes.
“That’s it, baby… squeeze me,” he groaned, voice rough and wrecked. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.” He came hard with a deep, broken moan, burying himself to the hilt and pulsing thick ropes of cum deep inside you. The feeling of him throbbing pushed you over the edge too — you came with a loud cry, walls fluttering around him as he kept grinding through both your orgasms.
Even after he finished, he stayed inside you, still holding you tightly against the wall, pressing soft, almost worshipful kisses to your wet neck and shoulders like he wasn’t ready to let go yet. “Stay with me a little longer,” he whispered, still soft and needy despite the mess he’d just made of you.
